#i get old people who complain when they cry but its like man they are babies what do you expect

[cowboyfreakazoid]

i will never understand people who hate kids because when kids come into my work and tell me random facts or show me their toys or wave at me or giggle when tell them the color straw they picked is a good choice. im like….life is good and beautiful. i dont know its just kids bring so much joy.

[nkogneatho]

𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄

: ̗̀➛synopsis: You were scared of falling in love but will you change your mind when you meet someone who actually shows you how you are filled with so much love?

#mlist #commission #taglist

—wc: 1.5k

—cw: gn!reader, fwb to lovers (ig), hurt/comfort, mild smut, cockwarming, receiving head, abandonment issues, past trauma, commitment issues, anxiety and crying, fluff, soft gojo, not proofread (its 2 am im sorry)

—a/n: so my mind decided to remind me of my trauma on a Wednesday night so I pulled this out of my ass. Tell me what you think if you read it :)) Reblogs much appreciated.

It fucked you up. Body fragile as a glass, mind clouded dark. The crippling fear emerged on the surface once again. That same old feeling. The feeling of abandoning someone before they abandon you.

You pitied yourself. What a pathetic person to get walked over by all those people. You despised every single decision you made. That included to kindle a relationship with this man.

Gojo Satoru. The strongest, they say. Hair whiter than snow, eyes glinting in light like the ocean waves turn diamond in sun.

He loved you. In fact, he loved you so much it scared you. The anxiety creeped up your back when he said those words to you.

"I love you."

He loves me. He said he loves me. But so did every other guy. He is lying. He'll leave.

Can you blame the traumatized mind to come to such conclusions?

Gojo did expect this reaction from you. He knew you were scared or love and commitment. Although the man felt the need to confess or he were to regret it for the rest of his life. Your knees met the floor with a loud thud, arms hanging like they were a soft toy.

"Do you know what you're saying?" Your voice cold.

"I do. I love you. And I know it's something you never wanted to hear given this relationship—fuck is this even a relationship?" His palm rubbed his forehead, feeling the rough sensation of his bangs

He was right to ask that question. Was this a relationship? You both started as just fuck buddies. You set a bunch of rules (which were tampered later anyway.)

Rule No. 1, no interference with other party's personal life.

Eh. He broke that when he started coming to your workplace with a bouquet of tulips every Monday. He knew Mondays were harsh. So you didn't complain because it did help to get through the rough day. Rule No. 1 successfully broken.

Rule No. 2, dates are okay sometimes but not a lot. Maybe twice a month.

Now, you were the one to alter this rule. Dates might be forbidden but not coming over to his place and treating it like your own home. His place was way more spacious given his generational wealth. It was easier to focus on work in such a silent and lone environment. The rule only got broken when you decided to move in. Well, you would save the time to call him over or you traveling here just to fuck.

By now, he had probably bullied his dick inside you in every single room. You still remembered his words.

"I want to fuck you in every square inch of this house, y/n."

And he did.

He fucked you on the big navy blue velvet layered couch, not giving a shit if your juices stained the expensive material. He'd just buy another one.

He spread your legs and ate you out on the dinner table on that one evening when the takeout took too long to arrive. Your fingerbeds grabbed his head so hard, it might've broken his skull as you orgasmed. He later thanked the delivery guy for being late to which the boy walked out with a confused look.

He made your wrap your legs tightly around him as you cockwarmed him on the kitchen counter. Brows furrowed, desperately wanting to grind. But your locked thighs around his slutty waist, not letting him do so.

Every square inch, he fucked you in. So Rule No.2 was off the table.

Rule No. 3, No catching of serious feelings or saying I love you.

Gojo didn't recently fall for you. He was caught in this way before you realized. Maybe he even doesn't remember it himself when he did.

"What do you mean? You just broke rule 3, Toru."

"Fuck those rules. I don't even know why we had them in the first place. Look at us y/n," he tried to reason. "We never follwed them so don't give me that crap." His voice was elevating to a higher octave. You hated it. You don't like yelling. It triggers the tinnitus in your ear.

Tears started rummaging down your dry cheeks. "Look at me. I know you're lying."

"Baby, I am not. I know it's hard to believe given your past but just trust me on this one." Yes he knew about your previous failed relationships and the effect it had on you. Which is why he took so long to confess. Each day, calculating the outcome. So at some point, he did know how you'd react. Maybe he'll lose you forever.

"Why?" You questioned him. You felt like you were a broken soul. Used and abused mentally. Taken advantage of the innocent mind and abandoned when you were to ask for the real love. You started hating the word love, ironically.

I love you. It sounds preposterous in your brain. What a fool would someone be to ever believe those words.

"Why? Look at yourself," he said.

"I do. Everyday. Which is why I asked the question. I am nothing but someone drowning. But I do not want to be saved. I don't want a savior, Toru! It makes me feel pathetic and weak." By now, you were wailing and screaming.

But he didn't interrupt. He let you scream your heart out. Maybe that was the last option he could choose to make you face your actual feelings.

"You done?" He asked. You were sniffing, catching your breath from all the yelling.

"Toru, all I see myself is as a broken soul. Why would you ever love...this" you pointed at yourself.

"You fool. Look in my eyes and tell me if I lie, but all i see in you is love. It's funny how you hate that feeling yet you're filled with it, y/n." His gaze softened. "You say you don't want a savior. Do you realize you don't need it in the first place. Because it's you who saves others."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember, Ginger was abandoned in the rain when we saw her the other day? No one cared about her but you did. You fed it canned cat food a took her to a shelter. You named her. You cared for her." He intertwined his hand in yours.

"Y/n. I used to wake up every single day in this apartment feeling absolute shit about what happened with Suguru and others. But when you started barging in on random days, that's when I started to feel a little better." You understood it. It is lonely to live alone with your own thoughts haunting you in this big pace.

"You made this house a home. You don't need a savior because you are one." he claimed.

"When did you—you started loving me?" You asked between hiccups.

"Sweetheart. I fall for your every single second. Everytime I wake up next to you. Everytime I see you smile. Whenever you skip on the same colored tiles on the footpath. I love all of you." That is when you realized how selfish you've been. Taking and taking his love but giving none back. He did so much for you. But you were about to leave him in a fear of something that might never happen.

"What if you leave just like all of them?" you asked.

"Give it one more chance. Who knows? Maybe I'll stick around for the rest of our lives." He wore a soft smile as he said those words, affirming you. You started crying again, but this time, it was due to happiness.

"If you never leave, I promise to love you more than myself."

"Oh, baby," he hugged you a tightly. "I love you so fucking much and I am so happy right now."

He pulled away and his lips crashed against yours. It's weird. You've kissed hundred times before but this one felt different. Maybe, because it was filled with love and acceptance.

You came to a realization. You don't know what the future holds. It is not the fear of abandonment that scares you. It's the feeling of you giving away all your love and them not giving any back. You always swam ocean for people who couldn't even meet you at the shore.

But Gojo never left your side. All this time, he was swimming right behind you, concealing you from all the harm. So if anyone's worth the risk, it's him.

Oh. Gojo Satoru. What a beautiful man you are.

[roachesbf]

Heyy i hope your doing ok!

I wanted to request a Soap x male reader, its very similiar to your rabbit!Rudy x Jessica!male reader story but hear me out 👀

Male reader is hot af like dude be making people stare at him jaw dropped and shi, not only that but he smart as hell too, dude graduated from Harvard in the highest honour, wealthy af and he strong af too AND hes a total sweetheart to Soap but he abit cold to strangers.

So basically male reader was somehow able to convince Price to let him visit the base and everybody staring at him like "zamnn👀👀" but then male reader sees Soap and his cold and stoic expression completely melts and he just runs up to Soap and hugs tf out him and gives Soap some of the food he cooked for him and is just being cheesy af to Soap and then a strangers aprouches Male reader and tries to ask him something and Male reader goes "what😐" and then immediatly goes back to baby-ing Soap.

PLEASE I WOULD CRY TEARS OF JOY IF YOU DO THIS🙇🙇🙇

Soap Headcanons: Ft absolute whipped Male!S/O

Somehow someway you’ve managed to secretly sneak your way into Price's spot of number one favorite. Being able to easily convince him to visit base and get a chance to see everyone again*cough*SOAP*cough*. He obviously knows why you want to go, practically everyone does but he doesn’t have it in his old man heart to say no so you always get your way. You always use the excuse of helping out like doing paperwork, or maybe training new recruits but you never do any of that!! Everyone respects you because of all your achievements…that's why it feels so wrong to tell you off when you’re caught babying Soap, not because you should be getting to work, but because they wish it was them.

It’s always awkward when you first show up on base because who wouldn’t want to talk to such eye candy, but at most you’ll give them the cold shoulder, or just tell them what they need before turning away from the conversation. Even when you’re sitting anywhere, you’ll impatiently tap your foot, as if you’re waiting for something/someone…AND THAT’S BECAUSE YOU ARRE, the entire time you’ll wait for him but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna be happy about it. It’s an absolute 180 because now you’re being all bashful and presenting him with homemade food and treats, holding him against you as you complain about how lonely it is without his loud personality. Soap is probably a physical affection type of lover, so he’ll have you in a headlock while singing praises on how much he missed you as well. 

When he's back and the two of you are together, he insist on training. Of course this gains the attention of others, and you feel the need to shoo them away, insisting that they must be here to oogle your man... "Laddie, Yer heid’s full o’ mince if you think they're checking me out??" and then you get offended because why WOULDN'T they want to check out your totally amazing boyfriend.

He’s completely oblivious to your favoritism as well, he acknowledges that you might like him more than most people because you’re together, but not to the extent that other people say. Even if he does witness this attitude change, he thinks it's the funniest thing in the world and will pretend to not notice when people complain about your favoritism. Price will complain about your attitude towards others, telling Soap to knock some sense into you and all he’ll say is “ I dinnae ken what you mean captain??”

[alittlebitofloveliness]

The Outsiders as Modern Fast Food Employees

Based on stuff I have seen/done at work

-The management very clearly have a 'brand' about who works out front, so stereotypically 'pretty' people are usually interacting with customers and everyone else gets banished to the grill (this is a real thing that happened at my work. We have one token dude who works at the front and the rest of us are all rosy cheeked young girls with long hair. Seriously, put me and most of my female coworkers together we look scarily similar) POINT IS Soda, Ponyboy, and Angela would all get to work front of house

-Steve works grill and he's the coworker everyone likes for no reason, he's just chill and good at what he does and helps out when front of house is swamped without needing to be asked or being a dick about it

-Every fast food place has one good manager and one evil manager (it's a canon event ok) and as long as the evil manager isn't working Steve lets everyone working eat some of the leftover fries before he chucks them each night

-Ponyboy found a mouse in the walk in pantry once and took it home in a cup to keep as a pet. Darry wouldn't let him, so Curly agreed to foster it for him, and now they relentlessly refer to it as 'the baby'. Newly hired coworkers are always confused and a little concerned because are they actually gay teen parents? No, they're just dumbasses, but no one tells the new hires that because it's fun to see how long it takes them to figure out they're cooing about a pet MOUSE not a human child

-Everyone chats and shit talks over the headsets all the time, even though they're not supposed to. Since Curly and Angela speak spanish but no one else does, they shit talk about the evil manager when she's there, and tell her they're talking about their brother if she ever asks what they're going on about

-Sodapop hates working drive through but gets it almost every shift since he's one of the few people trained to do it

-Two-bit is that guy who's technically employed but has like...one scheduled shift a week and still calls in all the time

-Theres a group chat where the schedule gets shared but only Soda and Steve ever use it, and never for it's intended purpose

-Angela can cry on command and anytime a customer starts to complain about anything she immediately bursts into tears. As soon as the customer leaves she stops

-Angela's customer service voice is already high pitched (we love customer service voice woohoo) but when she's working drive through it's so shrill its a wonder anyone can understand her

-Darry has his other jobs so he definitely wouldn't work where the rest of them work but he's that family member that stops by all the time and chates to soda and/or pony for half an hour and everyone else is annoyed 'cause they gotta pick up the slack.

-Dallas also wouldn't work with them because that man could NOT do customer service but him and Tim could drop by all the time and be really nice to the workers but yell at other customers. Someone is letting their kid run wild in the lobby? Tim's scolding that kid AND their mother. Some old guy is bring curt with the staff? Dally's gonna be more than curt to him

-Johnny would be a doordash/skip driver but he's at the store so often that everyone greets him by name and kinda treats him like an honorary employee

[steifel]

More outsiders HCs except this time its mostly about the Curtis bros (it turned into mostly be about Sodapop)

Soda sucked his thumb until he was 12

Speaking of soda sucking his thumb when he was a toddler it was more like he would stick his whole hand in his mouth and let the drool drip all over his arm

He used to wake up at like 2 am crawl out of his bed and waddle over to Darrys room and just stair (hand fully in his mouth mind you) darry would wake up and be like "hay little man do you need something" Soda would just continue staring until Darry got uncomfortable then Soda just waddeld his way back to bed

When they were 4 and 6 Pony and Soda were truly a meness to society

They used to work together to get chocolate cake off of the top shelf of the fridge by Soda lifting Pony onto his shoulders

Together they could reach

They thought it was super funny until Darry got in trouble (because obviously the 4 and 6 year old cant reach the top of the fridge)

Pony started crying when Darry got in trouble and so the boys came clean

One time Sodapop got his head stuck in between the rails on the stairs (he was 15)

One time when he was 10 Pony found a bunch of Darrys playboys

He looked through all of them because he was so curious

Poor thing was confused he had no idea why people would like that kind of stuff

He took them to show Johnny who was also very confused

They told Dally and he just laughed at them

Steve and Soda met when they were both at the parks and Soda goes "i like ponys" and steve was like "i like cars" so they played ponys and cars. They have been best friends ever since

Darry is secretly terrified of when Pony starts dating because he really doesn't want to have *the talk*

Little does he know Pony has had said *talk* at least 7 times

Everyone in the gang has tried to put the fear of God in him about sex

Except Dally who is the most honest of the gang

When he was a kid all Darry ever wanted was to be a dad

Pony absolutely hates kids

Soda was the kid to eat all of his Halloween candy in one sitting and then complain that his tummy hurts

I feel like Soda had a tummy ache quite often as a child

From literal kindergarten to the time he dropped out somebody had to physically sit and watch Soda do his homework or it wouldn't get done

Mrs Curtis used to sit at the table with all 3 boys to watch them do their homework

And once their parents died Darry started to sit down with the two boys to make sure they got their work done

Now whenever he can Sodapop sits to watch Ponyboy do his homework because he truly believes that thats just how homework works

Darry is legitimately afraid of the dark

If there is a spider anywhere in the Curtis household you bet your ass Soda is on the counter screaming like a little girl

Ponyboy cries when his brothers kill bugs so Darry has to let them all outside

[solarwynd]

People are saying the situation with Friends being replaced by Who as army's choice for most streamed k-pop song this year is the same as Like Crazy being replaced by Seven last year, but it was actually worse last year. Cause Like Crazy was doing something like 3m daily streams and had a realistic chance to surpass Cupid, and JK already had the most streamed song of 2022 (which is in itself bullshit cause armys in all their ot7 obssession should've given than to Yet To Come, since it was not only a group song but their last comeback, but instead they choose to push a Charlie Puth song that has only one BTS member as just a feature). Friends on the other hand is doing 1.6m daily streams and is probably not gonna surpass Magnetic. And, unlike JK, Jimin never got the most streamed song and he deserves it now for what happened last year.

Also, I don't understand what the crying is about. Friends was doing badly even before Who was released. So it's not like armys are dropping a song they weren't streaming to being with. What exactly are kths complaining about? That armys are focusing on Who instead of Friends? But Who is gonna have more streams than Friends in a month, and isn't one month the usual minimum amount of time armys should prioritize a new song anyways? Do kths really want armys to drop Who during it's first month just so a song that is over four months old can have more streams? Cause it's not like armys are planning on focusing only on Who for the rest of the year, only one month would be enough. By the time it would be reasonable for armys to stop prioritizing Who, it would already have more streams than Friends, making it the best contender for the song armys should push for that record, so why would they push a song with a worse chance instead? Like, be realistic, for Friends to end the year with more streams than Who everybody would have to stop streaming Who, and why would anyone do that? Because Taehyung's song was chosen for that record first? Well a Jimin song (LC) was chosen even before that, so if anything, he should get it first. Kths can try again next year, fighting!

L&R is where it all started to go wrong and was the unfortunate beginning of getting terrorized with mediocre pop music and white men.

Seeing armys just abandon LC especially after everything we had already seen happen last year was just the final straw for me. From there I knew I had to really had to leave cause I couldn’t deal with the constant shelving people were doing to Jimin.

I think armys were definitely over YTC at that point cause regardless of the typical SOTY response they normally give every single release, they did not care for it. But like you said by their own principle of strict OT7-ness they should’ve given most streamed to it instead.

I feel like armys like Friends between than the songs on layover but not enough that it showed in its numbers because it was also dropped fairly quickly. And like I said if they really wanted to give that man most streamed 2024 for a k act, they would have been moved for it. I’ve seen them push SNTY for EOTY awards more over that record for Friends . (And again proof that people are fine with other members being put on the back burner in benefit of JK, but when it’s Jimin it’s unacceptable)

WHO has gone the LC route (even more so) where it’s definitely not just some armys and us streaming. It definitely has GP and casuals. So even if armys fully drop it and say it goes back down to maybe its initial streams or a little less, it’s still gonna end up over taking Friends. Because even if armys gave their full energy to getting that song’s streams back up, the highest I can see it doing unfiltered is maybe 3M.

And then you have Jin that’s gonna have his album soon. They’re not gonna prioritize friends over his album and I can see them wanting to give Jin the best debut he can get since he got discharged.

[eclipsedrgn]

Left Behind (2)

Pair: Bay!Leonardo x Fem!Reader

Summary: You went to Japan to become a ninja like the boys only to stumble upon another school called Jujutsu Tech.

Part 1

2 years have gone by quickly.

The scenery of Tokyo never gets old, the beautiful streets, the food and the people were amazing. The crowded streets of Tokyo never ceased to amaze-

CRASH!

BOOM!

The side of the building implode, glass shattering towards the streets as a figure flew out. Your hair flew against the wind, wincing at the cuts and bruises that was on your body. The dark purple curse launch of the build after you, its mouth open ready to digest you, you placed your right palm out blasting fire towards the curse. It cries out in pain as you landed on building, you felt your shoulder crack as you yelp in pain.

Your eyes close as you hiss in pain, you hear footsteps coming up to you. Peaking your eyes open, you see two tall men stood side by side next to you.

"Shut. Up" you said, lazily pointing your finger at the white haired male.

"You got your ass kicked. By a grade 2 curse?" Satoru Gojo smirked mockingly.

"I was shopping and was cut off guard" you complained.

"We got this, right Satoru?" Suguaru Geto says crossing his arms.

"Of course... we are the strongest"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You slid the door open stretching out your injured shoulder, with the help of Shoko you were able to heal properly. You paused as you were about to take a seat when you see a familiar small man talking with Yaga, they both turned to you with a grim look on their faces. You sat roughly on the seat next to Gojo who groaned in pain as you slapped his injured arm.

"Ancient One" you say.

"(Y/N)" he says back, "It's been too long"

"Two peaceful years" you grinned, "But that's not the reason why your here isn't it?"

"I'm afraid not"

"Do I have to go back?" you grimly asked.

"The three of you have accomplished so many missions together, especially you (Y/N)-san. Within the two years I've known you, you've quickly became a special grade sorcerer" Yaga spoke.

"The Hamato Clan needs you now, the Shredder has returned and it is not good news" the Ancient One spoke.

You sighed, "It can't be helped. I'll pack and return tonight"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The 16 hour or more plane ride to New York wasn't that bad, you were asleep half of the flight, played games and watched movies. But when the plane landed was when you felt your life falling apart again. You knew you had to return, but not this soon, its only been 3 years after all.

Your now new apartment was bigger than the old one, you placed down your bags as you walked around the new surroundings of your home. The bed was luckily big, as in king size big, and you sighed. You quickly ate a snack, showered before dressing up to head for patrol.

You wore your regular uniform from Jujutsu Tech, a navy blue blazer left open showing your black sports bra and abs along with its matching skirt. You wore black high knee boots and tied your hair into a mermaid braid.

You unlocked the window and climbed out, you climbed up the ladder and stood on the roof of your new building. You jumped roof to roof until you hear someone cry out for help, you jumped down the building landing on the attacker while fighting the others, once finished you turned to see your best friend, Ren who stared at you terrified.

"(Y/N)... y-you're alive?" she stuttered out.

"Ren" you said with a cold tone.

A couple of thuds was heard behind you, as you place your hands in your skirt pockets, you turned to see the now taller four mutant brothers you've come to love and hate. The walked towards you carefully, clearly cautious.

Leo stared at your eyes, clearly alive and not burned beyond recognition. Mikey placed his hands against his mouth, surprised at your appearance. He ran around his brothers, gathering you in his arms, hugging you tightly.

"You're alive!" he exclaims, crying against your shoulder.

You gave Mikey a unsure smile, hugging him back hesitentantly. "Yeah, Mikey I'm alive"

"How the hell are you alive?" Raph exclaims, "You were on the news. We checked your apartment, you were nothing but a burnt body"

You didn't reply and that made Raph angry, the betrayal on Donnie's face says it all and Leo, he just looked at you in disbelief.

You turn to walk away but you stop as you got a little further, "Take it up to your Sensei, he knows"

[lazyalani]

| Blue Lock

| Them as Taylor Swift song lines

| fluffy, becuz taylor swift is life itself, i refuse to believe reo and chigiri arent swfities, swearing cuz its me, i had to redo this cuz tumblr literally deleted the first one :'), slight angst? I like the old version of this better :(

Ft. Reo, Nagi, Chigiri, Aiku, Sae, Rin, Bachira, Ness, Kaiser, Otoya, Yukimiya, Isagi

| Blue Lock Masterlist

| Main Masterlist

REO "you've got a smile that could light up this whole town" - you belong with me

Man you can't tell me his smile just not sends you to cloudnine. That one panel of him smiling at Nagi got me cursing that bitch for making Reo cry. He's so precious I'm crying. Nagi better have tripped 50 times after walking away from him. His smile is so genuine. Reo is so easy to read off field. His emotions are always easily seen based on his expressions and how he acts. Just by looking at his face and eyes, you could really tell how he feels. The way his face lights up and his eyes sparkle when he smiles got butterflies on my tummy. Fuck you Nagi.

MEGURU "we're happy, free, confused, and lonely in the best way" - 22

Bachira is always a mix of emotions. I genuinely believes he can feel and handle a lot of emotions at the same time and still only show one, and he chooses what to show. He's always smiling or calm despite the chaos on field and everything. He's so chill. He'd be the fun person to be around everytime. He's a flexible person. He could be fun when it's the mood, and bring out his lonely feeling when you talk deep. But he's so optimistic he lits up the mood again. He's the type to just go with the flow of anything and worry about something when it's there. The fact that he finds a way to make himself kind of okay is amazing cuz I would honestly lash out on everyone in the field.

RIN "back then we didn't know, we were built to fall apart" - the very first time

Ah, he's definitely the angsty childhood friends to strangers trope. The moment Sae broke him he was bound to break everything around him. Even if he hurts people unintentionally, the damage is still done, no? He inherited his brother's sharp tongue and bad attitude so if you aren't a masochist or a simp, better stay away cuz this man could make you cry with a sentence. It doesn't really help that he literally grew up all over Sae. It's not like Rin is the type to say "go away cuz you're distracting me from my revenge" or something, but his change drives people away from hi.

SEISHIRO "it's me, hi. i'm the problem it's me" - anti-hero

Literally sucks at communicating. He'd be the person who would slack off at communicating and do whatever he wants when he thinks you know him enough. He's probably think you know he'd buy a new house when he complains about the broken cieling. You better get that laziness out of your spoiled ass and start trying harder AND IF YOU DONT WANT REO ILL TAKE HIM. Get your game face on GET YOUR GAME FACE ON. Don't confuse and play with my Reo's feelings you asshole.

HYOMA "i'm captivated by you baby like a firework show" - sparks fly

You cannot tell me you don't internally scream when you see this pretty man. I believe in Chigiri Hyoma supremacy, I believe that he gets all the attention he deserves everywhere he goes, and I refuse to believe that no one in blue lock had even a slight crush on him. He's just so pretty and gorgeous and cute and talented and fast and charming and dreamy and fast and red. Please let me touch your hair you can kick me afterwards. I went into daydream mode the first time I saw him.

EITA "goodbye, mr. perfectly fine, how's your heart after breaking mine?" - mr. perfectly fine

I don't even have to explain. I would've burned his whole soul down if he did that to me.

AIKU "long story short, it was the wrong guy" - long story short

Don't even get me started on this one. He's so obvious. Tbh, in real life, you'd be pretty stupid if you didn't notice sooner. Getting with him on a committed relationship, a fubu, or a fwb would be a risky 50/50 if you're weak for guys like him, better run, but if you're a flagpole then why not? You could fall for him for all he cares, he just wants to have fun.

SAE "why'd i have to break what i love so much?" - afterglow

Now he'd defnitely be the one to lash out. Aside from the Rin drama, if Sae had a childhood sweetheart or something like that, they would either end up like Rin or slowly experience and see the change in Sae. From his usual teasing manner to the dry, lesser and lesser text and messages. He'd be the type to lash out and tell you to go away when you pry too much for his taste. Sharp tongued, bad attitude, sharper actions, so realistic to the point that he does so much damage around him and what's worse is that he doesn't care. He knowd what he's doing and he just doesn't care enough. It's not he doesn't love or like Rin or his 'if' childhood sweetheart, it's just the way he is after his change. He's like a fire burning everything on his path, and he just keeps going.

YUKIMIYA "darling, i fancy you" - london boy

Like, have you seen this man? He's a 3 in 1. Angst, Fluff and Sm-- hehehehe. He's so pretty, soft boy at first look and then sexy at the second, then angsty health drama in the third. My yukki is so strong for handling his sickness so well :') come here and lemme give you a hug.

MICHAEL "he's so obsessed with me and, boy, i understand" - i think he knows

Ness, I completely understand, it's completely justified. This man is gorgeous and he fucking knows it. He's probably the center of attention when he walks in and he loves every bit of it. BUT THE NEXT TIME HE BULLIES NESS IM RIPPING OF THAT REMAINING HAIR ON HIS BACK :D Aside from him annoying himsagi everytime and being a menance to everyone, who wouldn't love him? Talented, handsome, and don't even get me started on that 300M.

ALEXIS "'cause darling i'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream" - blank space

Oh boy only a little more and he's gonna fucking snap and rip himsagi's neck off. His smile is so babyboy and innocent but when he closest his eyes you better run. Many people probably think he's just one of those die hard Kaiser defenders who bark and be a stupid, good for nothing moron in the field but my Ness is very strong and boy he BITES. Reo version 5. Kaiser, make up your mind seriously, I'll take him if you don't want him.

YOICHI "i swear i don't love the drama, it loves me" - end game

Pretty self-explanatory. I feel so bad for him. My boy just wants to play soccer and suddenly he's a double love story antagonist and a brother stealer :') ever since Rin and Nagi came into the picture he lost Bachira. Like, just go away and give him back Bachira. Then there goes Kaiser and Ness drama, an upgraded version of reonagi. Reonagi drama level 3. Cuz level one is them, them level two is Kunigiri. GIVE HIM THE BALL AND LEAVE HIM ALONE. Need to build a government himsagi protection squad cuz Ness is probably gonna break his legs sooner or later.

[harmonysanreads]

all this kaveh angst (canon wise) has me pumped up w ideas, man 🤦‍♀️ i can just imagine yan!kaveh in the hexagon love au falling deeply in love w darling as they offer him a shoulder to cry on. maybe there’s this bridge of understanding between them as darling rubs his back, telling kaveh its not his fault, he shouldn’t carry the burden of all his stresses alone. kaveh wants to cry but he’s just listless, looking at darling as he falls deeper in love. someone cares for him? oh yeahhh, darling defff wants him (bc he’s delusional like that). maybe that’s a skewed perception of love, but kaveh feels very seen right now, and he’s has these feelings brewing more deeply since it’s coming from darling ofc!

or heck, maybe in the vamp au where maybe, immortality is really getting to kaveh as he continues reminisce his old mortal life, even if hundreds of years has passed. and there’s this cute little mortal, his darling love, who’s somehow managing to carry of all his sadness despite their small little pea brain (bc how can a mortal be able to fully comprehend immortality and its grief?). kaveh is smitten, regardless.

overall, yan!kaveh is the type to just dump all of this on darling and he sees it as a very glaring sign that darling is returning these feelings of comfort…and perhaps…its a mutual feeling of love. because if darling cares, they must love him right?

and if darling is willing enough to play therapist, then it’s game :P

also i have this little ramble for the hexagon au, where kaveh isn’t that much of an avid drinker (nowadays, that is, ever since meeting you and years has passed every since his parents….). but he does get a little nervous around you. his hands always manages to get clammy and he can’t help the ache in his stomach when he sees you. to quell his nervousness, he drinks. just a little to give him a boost of confidence! so he comes to the tavern around late noon when the sun is setting. for the first hour he’s preoccupied in drinking to calm his shaky hands and his shyness (read: he’s trying to impress you with his rizz not his awkwardness) then when he’s a little bit better, he’s laughing and talking freely with you; kaveh becomes quite confident.

throughout the weeks to the months he’s lingered around, he grows to talk less of jokes and begins to complain about work, and worst of all: al haithaim, when there’s a feeling of comfort established within him. one day he slips an insult about his work and his need for sleep. you shoot him a sympathetic smile as you put down the glass you were going to give him, the fifth he asks for. he usually stops after the second glass, but he was more than fine with giving you more mora as an exchange. you lean closer to him as you put a hand on his shoulder. you whisper to kaveh that he should head home early for tonight. this was certainly a first as kaveh felt magnetised to your touch. he feels himself move closer to you, the last sip of alcohol is heavy on his lips. he was way past tipsy. the warmth of your hand and your worried look, your lips moving to speak your heart to him of all people. “i—,” kaveh would hesitate to respond back at first. but your furrowed brow and your eyes twinkling under the soft glow of the lamps nearby. your face so soft and how your lips gives him a weary smile, which has his him weak. “thanks for worrying. it’s just that…”kaveh can’t help but find himself sharing his personal ailments. thus born, a wretched and broken man seeking comfort in you. he speaks and speaks until his tongue could no more push him to speak any longer, even if his tears dry up. but you won’t look away from him—never. kaveh notices how you don’t even turn your back on him, you’re always there. sometimes you turn a blind eye to other patrons as you stay beside him. feet planted firmly in your spot as you give him all that he asks for in the world. a reciprocation to mediate this feeling of loneliness. you’re giving him smiles and your words mends the cracks in his broken heart. you touch him too, giving him warmth and shelter from the cold. kaveh is convinced, you must feel the same way as he does when he sees you. no longer did he see you as a crush, it was way more to him at this point.

he comes the next day again, acting as if he didn’t tell you all his burdens. but when you look at him the moment he sits himself down at the bar, “did you get enough sleep last night?” you ask. kaveh is soaring.

he’s willing to spill himself to you and when he wakes back up tomorrow morning in his bed, still in his clothes from the day before with hair tousled about, his heart feels less heavier and he’s yearning to see you once more.

oh gosh, you’re everything to kaveh.

and here comes al haithaim busting through his bedroom. “it’s your turn to do the dishes. or are you too hungover? you were practically dragged home last night.” al haithaim mocks. kaveh immediately sits up, eyes wide open. “you went to get me?”

“no, i wouldn’t waste my time to go and find you when i’m preoccupied with better things to do. so, someone else did. that person you keep mentioning. what’s their name?” al haithaim is silent for a moment before an all too familiar curious look glints his eye. “y/n.” he states with a sureness to his tone. kaveh can’t help but feel his breath get caught in his throat.

anyway sorry for the ramble LOL i love this au 😭 i got more to say about the other participants

Omg Nonnie........ I cannot thank you enough for blessing us with this feast 😩

First let's talk about Vampire!Kaveh, the relationship with Darling and Kaveh here is very dependent. They have much in common ; both of them are lonely (one more chronically and stretched out for centuries but lonely, still), both of them want someone they can connect with deeply and both of them want to be loved. Similar to Vampire!Alhaitham, Vampire!Kaveh is also drawn to darling for their innocence. To normal humans, it may not have been anything noticeable but for these creatures who've known darkness and corruption intimately, Darling is a flicker of hope for them. Though, as Kaveh is one of the few vampires who can, despite their age, still feel, he's... astounded at the existence of a human like you.

The Venn diagram of Vampire!Kaveh and good old broke architect Kaveh would intersect at the part that he dumps his trauma and emotions on Darling. Actually, this is a vital point for even getting Kaveh to fall in 'healthy' love for you, it's an unintentional test. Can you handle the mess that he is? Graciously carry his burden? And still be his pillar until he can stand straight again on his own? A very interesting thing you pointed out that Kaveh is rather delusional. This pairs up well with the previous fact about him developing feelings for you that I mentioned, after all, it takes two to make a quarrel.

Also please please please send in your thoughts for the others — if you have time, of course<3 I'm literally addicted to this.

[not-goldy]

Not your followers thinking Jimin doesn't need to be big star also. Are they even sane ??? EACH AND EVERY MEMBER IN BTS IS AMBITIOUS AF, ESPECIALLY JM. But unlike JK, JM is not airhead to keep on saying he want to be next big thing, want to be seen as this het fuckboy who only sings about sex to be seen as mature, want to be one and only kpop star to do so bla bla bla all while not lifting a pen to write songs, won't have streams and sales without a 938397328 versions and all that mediaplay from company. Or atleast the bare minimum hold a mic properly and talk/sing without fidgeting and embarrassing yourself. How you gonna dominate western market without even communication skills lmao.. those times when he used to stand in shade of RM is gone lol. Jk's big project DREAMERS debuted under bubbling 100 while JM gave that YG company their 1st hot 100 entry by a collab. So saying JK is this and that while we are not seeing results organically is dumb af. Golden maknae because he sing and dance some white man's songs which company already bought success for ? Oh there's 100 other artists who sings and dance way better than him. He can't hold 5 mins on stage if he's doing a dance battle with Jimin lol.

What company doing to members IS INJUSTICE AF.. especially Jimin who fucking proved he can also be the 'next big thing'. But they conveniently sweep him under rug so his shine won't affect their industry plant launch. Or why can't they support him too ???? Is it that difficult ? JK didn't do a shit and got everything. I BET HE WONT DEBUT NO.1 FOR SEVEN NOR GET ALL THOSE RECORDS IF IT WAS NOT THE PUSH FROM SCOOTS. BE FR. Go and check his BB points to see how payola impacted his chart. It would've been a -48 like 3D on second week too. While what we asked for Jimin was the deserved support in 2nd week for a song which fucking went no.1 with fans support and artist impact alone. It's NOT secretly wishing JK's treatment for JM, but asking what he fucking deserves. Literally any company will give the extra promos for his in 2nd week but not hybe who's on a mission to sell themselves to somehow establish JK in west 😬

And don't say JM will chose me over JK. Did I said I want JM to chose me ????? THIS IS HIS CAREER HE WORKED HARD FOR NOT A FUCKASS RELATIONSHIP. Even if you look at their relationship also, it's the same lol. JM keep on giving and giving him his everything while JK sit back and enjoy Jimin while not even bothering to post a simple bday wish or go and meet him even after him begging a 100 times.

YOU CANT CALL OTHERS JK ANTIS BECAUSE THEY SEE TRUTH AND SAY IT OUT LOUD. Ask him to play fairly like a man 1st, then we will see who's the real winner here ?

DAMN IF PSYCHO WAS A PERSON

IF HE'S WINNING DOES IT MATTER HOW HE'S WINNING???? DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW THINGS WORK IN THIS WORLD OR ARE YOU ONE OF THE DELULUS WHO THINK HARD WORK IS EVERYTHING?

You are crazy if you think money, connections, power, politics, privilege and luck play zero role in making a star. Please find other 2 yr olds and hug them, don't bring this shit to the adult table its embarrassing.

I'm embarrassed for you.

Scoot---- okay, MA'AM A PUSH IS A PUSH WHETHER IT'S FROM SCOOBY-DOO OR THE DEVIL

TAKE YOUR WEIRD MORAL COMPASS AND CHICKEN CHANGE ETHICS TO SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY GIVES A FUCK

READ MY LIPS

Go weep somewhere else.

You gonna come on the internet and bitch complain bout how the entertainment industry is not fair WELL BOO HOO CRY ME A RIVER YOU LOSER.

And make sure you come with a costume next time so we know the circus from whence you came Missy Clowniot.

You give PJMs a bad name you ASS HAT

You sound like those whiny kpop losers who complain BTS has privilege and connections and power and their lame loser favs don't- as if power and connections are things you throw on people's laps.

If Hard work is all it takes BTS WOULD HAVE SEVERAL GRAMMYS YOU DUMBASS.

And the fact you out here farting yourself in the name of Park Jimin irks me so much. Here's the truth you want so bad, YOU SUCK. And you making Jimin out to be pathetic too damn.

Now I know it's not Park Jimin you out here acting like he's inferior and a victim and a loser who needs the bar to be lowered and for people to choose him love him play fair and nice before he can win. Child THE AUDACITY.

YOU DON'T THINK DO YOU??

I know he's not the one you fucking dragging through the mud indirectly with these brain dead waste of breathe rants.

PLEASE STOP JIMIN DON'T NEED A FAN LIKE YOU.

YOU ARE EMBARRASSING HIM.

The nerve and audacity for you to even compare him to- WELL ANY ONE I'M ABOUT TO PUT HANDS ON YOU FOR THAT.

I WILL SMACK THE SHIT OUT OF YOU FOR THIS FOR REAL.

It's the lack of intelligence and you not taking a hint and you not knowing when to stop- FUCK IT LET'S GET NASTY THEN.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND I IS I CAN'T PUT ANY ONE ON A PEDESTAL ABOVE PARK JIMIN ENOUGH TO VICTIMIZE HIM THE WAY YOU DO.

HE'S IN A LEAGUE OF HIS OWN PLEASE LEAVE HIM ALONE HE IS NOT COMPETING WITH NO FUCKING ONE

HAVE SOME FUCKING CLASS AND TACT

OR GO OVER THERE WHERE THE OTHER PJMs OF YOUR CALIBRE ARE

IF JIMIN SEES THIS HE WILL THROW UP AND I'M GONNA WIPE HIS VOMIT WITH YOUR FACE YOU RAGGEDY ASS

NEVER EVER EVOOOOORRR COMPARE PARK BIG DADDY JIMIN TO ANY ONE LET ALONE HIS SWEET HEART

NO ONE IS ON HIS LEVEL AND NO ONE WILL EVER BE.

ALSO JIKOOK ARE A FUCKING POWER COUPLE THE FUCK!

IF JUNGKOOK'S POWER MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE

GO SIT OVER THERE

[bucknastysbabe]

Heyo the Bucky rdr western au has much more plot than expected. I have an old one that didn’t get much traction from Ao3 so wanted to post and see if y’all liked it! So something to tide over :)

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Derogatory language towards a woman, outlaws duh, light description of puking, rough handling, bickering bitches, sex pollen (or potion in this case), strip poker, cunnilingus, Bucky’s huge dick, dirty talk, rough pnv!sex, cream pie, pregnancy, open ending, love at first intercourse, ambiguous ending

Bayou Bonding

The boy who carried his father’s blue, blue eyes toothily smiled at you. He sat by the fire in your father’s manor, dressed in fine clothes. You named him James; after his father. He stared at the fire with a contemplative look on his face before asking, “How did you meet Daddy?” You blanched, Bucky was a sore topic around your home. A blight on one of Saint Denis’ finest families. You told the boy a watered down version of the truth, but your mind wandered back to the day.

1879, Saint Denis, LE

“Unhand me! You— you cowpoke!,” you hollered.

A gloved hand slapped over your mouth, the other wrangling you close to his body. The burly cowboy hissed, “Shut it! Howling ain’t gonna do you a damn thing.” You thrashed more, stomping a heeled foot into his foot. He grunted in pain, slinging you into the ground. Ragged ropes cut into your skin as the outlaw hogtied you. He shoved a dirty kerchief in your mouth, and hauled you up over his shoulder.

Another man, a lean blonde snickered, “Feisty one eh Buck?” The surly man cursed, “Too Fuckin’ feisty. Uppity little bitch.” You yowled behind your gag, trying to knee him in the back. The two men cautiously carried you down a back alley. Two horses waited in the murky gloom. ‘Buck’ and his smirking compatriot had plucked you from the Mayor’s party, for what you assumed was ransom. As sheriff, your daddy didn’t mix with the right people all the time.

Buck flipped you onto the back of his huge black horse, you crying out at the rough handling. The pair hopped on their horses, and off you went into the night. The movement of the galloping horse was making you sick. From what you could see they were taking you North into the swampy wasteland of Bayou Nwa. You managed to spit your gag out, but before you could speak, a rush of your dinner decided to make its appearance.

“For fuck’s sake! Tell me why Stark sent me to do this shit?,” the darker man spat. The other man laughed again, chuckling airily as you watched his bow bounced across his back. Buck rumbled, “Quit yer’ laughing Clint or she’s going on the back of ole’ Hawkeye.” Clint shut up and kept riding on.

You really wishes you could’ve taken off your corset, but one doesn’t prepare for kidnapping on horseback by dirty cowboys. The stink of the swamp started to envelop your nose as they closed into the darkness. Buck lit a lamp, you could watch it’s shadow away across the muddy ground. The pair stopped at a dilapidated dock, illuminated only by the sparse moonlight and the lamp. A dingy waited in the pitch water. Your vision swam as Buck hauled you to the boat, gently lowering you down to not disturb the boat.

You complained, “Atleast cut my feet, I’m not stupid enough to go jump in a damn gator infested swamp!”

Clint shrugged and pulled out a knife, cutting the rope after he sat down. Buck protested, “No you damn fool, what happens when we get out of the boat? Dumbass.” You rolled your eyes and muttered, “Like I’m going to either run away from heavily armed criminals.” The big man grumbled under his breath as he stepped down into the dingy. You dusted yourself off, taking a breath as you adjusted your corset. You wrinkled your nose at the smell of horse on your crinoline dress.

Buck began rowing, blue eyes scanning the misty swamp. Clint leaned back, staring up at the stars. He offhandedly asked, “So. You know your daddy is crooked? Don’t even start Barnes!” Bucky called Clint a dumbass, again. You replied, “I had a feeling. Not my business, I’m just here to look pretty and get engaged if it wasn’t for you dirty cowboys.”

“Not cowboys.”

“Outlaws,” you said in an exaggerated accent.

You crossed your arms and huffed, “Great. I really hope you two know your way around the Bayou. Then we’re all dead. Anyways how long is this ‘holding me for ransom’ to last. The entirety of the Saint Denis Police will be looking for me. Your gang must be on some hard times.”

“Shut it!,” Bucky barked.

Clint stage whispered, “We have a map. Headed to a safe house. And until he pays up, killing you has no purpose.”

You nodded solemnly, listening to the sounds of the bayou. This place had always intrigued and scared you. Your grand-mère told you stories of ghosts, pirates, the night folk and such. Although there were much more real, scary things than stories happening to you now. Clint said you weren’t in harms way but Bucky’s cold eyes frightened you.

The boat pulled up onto an old stilted house. There was a dim red lamp in the window. Bucky paddled the dingy flush to the dock, mooring with some rope. Clint stepped out first, extending a hand to you. You thanked him as the wiry blonde helped you up. Bucky trudged out last, pushing you into the shack. “Go on”, he growled.

Clint carefully slithered back into the weathered dingy. He cheerily announced, “Have fun in the swamp shack you two. Pleasure to meet you miss, Bucky doesn’t bite,” he paused, “Atleast I don’t think he does. Anyways I have to get back to the gang, see you around when the ransom is paid.”

You spluttered, “Why can’t he go? I don’t want to be stuck with this brute!”

Bucky glared at you, hands balling into fists.

Clint cackled, “Rule’s rules miss. I’d love to entertain you another time. Have a good night.”

You stomped into the shack, petulantly sitting on a weathered chair. You complained, “It smells like gator shit in here.” Bucky ignored you in favor of closing the small curtains. You watched him move. For a big man, he carried himself lightly. Maybe if he took a bath and had a trim, he’d even be attractive. Blue eyes turned on you.

You held your ground and deadpanned, “I meant it. You’re greasy and smell like horse.”

He collapsed into an ancient armchair, pulling out some gun oil. Bucky remarked, “You’re just a ray of sunshine aren’t you? Just shut up and lemme’ clean my gun. Yer’ daddy will pick you up soon and you can go back to your bubble.”

He dissembled the pistol efficiently, carefully cleaning each part. You watched him quietly, holding your tongue for everyone’s sanity. You really wanted to take off your corset, the tightness was driving you insane. You held off until your head felt light. With a weak voice you asked, “Bucky. Mister Outlaw.” Sleepy eyes turned to you, his brow quirking up in question.

“I need to take my corset off.”

“Well take it off.”

You whinged, “I need help for that you dullard! Just loosen the laces and I have the rest.” He remained stubbornly silent so you simply began to remove the outer layers of your extravagant outfit. Then you walked over to the ass and turned around. He mumbled, “Spoiled rotten. Fine, you want a plate of cheese and grapes with this madam?” Thick fingers started to loosen the corset, you taking a deep breath of air. You unlatched the front of it, now clad in your pantaloons and blouse. You breathed, “Thank you, and yes that would be delightful sir.”

Bucky gazed at your body as you were turned around, reluctantly appreciating the view. He threw his coat at you and chided, “Cover up.” With a disgusted look you put it on. The smell of leather and herbs was nice, but the stink of horse still lingered. Very warm coat too. You gawked at the filthy mattress in the corner of the shack. It was covered in stains and had a ragged blanket strewn across it. Grabbing your extensive overwear, you managed to cover the mattress and make a pillow out of your bustle pad.

“Hm. Maybe some brains under there. I know they don’t let you city girls learn much.”

You snapped, “I’ll have you know!” You stopped when you realized Bucky had made a very solid point. With a frown you crawled onto your emerald green crinoline pallet. Cuddling into the jacket you let a few tears slip. You hoped you’d be home soon and out of this mess. Your eyes began to droop as you listened to Bucky cleaning his weapons and the crackle of the small fire he started. You said a rosary in your head and drifted asleep.

You awoke to the darkness. Rain pattered against the tin roof. Bucky sat cross legged, reading a book. You prayed to the lord for sleeping safely. As you stretched and sat up he gruffly mumbled, “Mornin’.” You shot back, “Did you not sleep? Stare at me all night instead? I thought your type would take advantage of a helpless lady.” His brows furrowing made you cringe at your lack of forethought.

“Our gang might be criminals but we’re not deviants. You’d like that though, wouldn’t ya? Big scary cowboy rippin’ yer’ bodice,” Bucky smugly replied.

You remained silent, picking at your nails anxiously. The brunette licked his full bottom lip and closed his book with a soft thwip.

He stood up and handed you an open can of beans. You stared at the outlaw incredulously, eyes flicking back and forth from the gross looking food. You primly spoke, “Hate to ruin the moment but do you have an apple or crackers? I’m not eating that.”

He huffed a laugh and rifled through a satchel before tossing you an apple. Bucky busied himself with the beans, eating like it was his last meal. You stared in horror at the scene as you ate your apple. Bucky rolled his eyes as he inhaled the last scoop. You scoffed, “I need to get out of this smelly swamp shack or I’m going to feed myself to the the gators.” Bucky smirked at you, an amused look in his eyes.

“No can do, just gonna’ have to hop out of your bejeweled carriage Princess,” he chuckled.

You threw your hat at the smarmy cowpoke, which he easily caught with a surprised grin. You had to suppress your thoughts on his endearingly crooked grin. You spat, “Oh piss off, I’m not damn Cinderella! I just happen to have manners and morals !” Bucky snorted, “Not using your manners curssin’ at me and throwin’ hats in your skivvies!” You groaned in frustration, taking a particularly vicious bite of your apple.

Bucky busied himself back with his book, leaving you to boredom. So you shucked off the heavy jacket in the hot shack and rummaged around the place. Bucky raised a brow but ignored you. You found a loose floorboard and pried it open. Some strange marking in chalk lined the bottom of the space. Multiple glass jars and dried herbs littered the hidey-hole. You picked up some sort of carved charm, setting it back down carefully. A small bag of coins jingled as you inspected the sack.

It looked like some old hoodoo or voodoo practitioner lived here. You hoped it was the more spiritually benevolent voodoo. Bucky stomped over to you and bellowed, “What in fucks name are you doing?” You yelped and threw the coins at Bucky. After a breath you replied, “I got bored! Found this stuff, some swampfolk left some voodoo trinkets. The man’s face paled as fear entered his blood.

Bucky scolded, “Why would you go mess around with that cursed shit! That’s bad luck— already have enough of that!” He kicked a chair and hollered, “God dammit woman!” You cowered at his outburst, squeaking out, “Voodoo isn’t bad! Hoodoo is, that’s what the Night Folk practice. My grand-mère told me about this, these are probably just luck charms and health elixirs. Relax, you’re scaring me!”

His handsome face fell, wiping a hand over his forehead. He amended, “My bad— I don’t mess around with shit like that. You’d know better than me, now just put that stuff away. C’mon princess, we’ll play cards. I got a deck in my satchel.” While Bucky spoke, you stuffed the remaining trinkets in your underclothes. He held out a hand to help you up, you daintily taking the rough grip.

“You got any drinks?,” you drawled. You were cooking up a plan, something to give you the upper hand. Bucky turned around with a bottle of fancy rum. You awed, “Aged pirate rum, living above your means huh? Rob that off a poor citizen of Lemoyne?” The brunette growled, “You gonna drink it or what?” You waved a hand and seized the bottle. You called over your shoulder as you found some old cups, “Get the game ready, I like rummy. My brother taught me how to play when he got out of the war.”

“Got out?”

“Legs blown off.”

“Damn. Sorry ‘bout that.”

You pulled out the two vials of mystery liquid, reading the labels. They were written in creole. You only knew Parisian French so you had to guess. One said companionship and the other was something along the lines of rest. So you shrugged and poured a bit of both into his cup. You finished off the companionship one in your drink. You didn’t want the outlaw to pick up on the herbal scent.

Bucky questioned, “What’s taking you so long?” You lord smoothly, “Found some dried mint for a little flavor, a lady needs some spice.” He scoffed and crossed his arms. You smirked to yourself as you tucked the empty vials away. You brought the drinks over and handed Bucky his. As expected he sniffed the rum, but didn’t make a fuss as he took a sip. You sat down and teased, “Get ready to get your hide tanned, cowpoke.”

So you drank, and played, and drank some more. You’d beaten Bucky two times before he slammed his hand down on the table and barked, “A’right! Let’s see your hand in poker, Princess!” He grinned wildly, blue eyes sparkling. He looked handsome when he smiled, dimples popping with endearingly crooked teeth. You were trying to take it slow but you felt the effects of the alcohol. Your face was flushed and you felt loose and erratic. Bucky was also wide open, talking much more than you’d ever expected him to.

You teased, “Let’s make this fun, Mister Barnes. How about strip poker? Never seen a cowboy naked.”

He balked at your forwardness, pink lips agape in surprise. Nervousness bolted through your body before Bucky tumbled forward with guffaws. He howled in laughter, “Hah! Miss high falutin’ wants to play strip poker! Aight then, let’s play!” His flush ran down his tanned neck and up to his ears. So the game began, and you felt on top of the world.

Soon you were short of pantaloons and Bucky sat only in his pants, broad chest on display. He was quite drunk now, slurring and flirting shamelessly. You’d slowed down some but vitality thrummed through your veins. Bucky’s lusty stares were starting to make your core ache. You hadn’t felt this aroused since that visiting French Aristocrat fucked you silly a year ago.

He smirked as he dealt his hand, a straight flush. You were beat. The man leaned back, thick thighs spreading invitingly. Bucky crooned, “Get that top off princess, uh-uh no backing out you started this.” You shot back, “Fine fine, lucky day for you cowpoke. High class lady showing you her bosom.” You shucked your top off and gestured at your naked body. Bucky’s eyes visibly darkened with lust and before he spoke you cut him off, “Nah. We aren’t done yet. I want another round.”

As the last round went maddeningly on, your arousal was beginning to spike. You couldn’t pay attention as your skin felt on fire. Your cunt had soaked your thighs and the wooden chair. Your nipples, hips, and nethers throbbed and swelled up. All you could think about was getting a cock in you. Bucky fared no better, his chest was flushed with stiffened nipples. You saw his hand rubbing needily between his legs. Sweat beaded on his temples and the man looked like he was going to jump your bones.

You slurred in a rare moment of clarity, “I thin’ I drugged us.”

Bucky snarled, shoving the table aside. He stalked over to you and dropped to his knees. Worn hands gripped your thighs as he rasped, “S’that why you smell so good n’ my cocks fixin’ to pop? Dumb little rich bitch.” You mewled, rutting your hips toward his swollen lips. He groaned at the sight of your swollen folds. The brunette muttered, “To hell with it.” He dug his face between your thighs, licking a broad stripe up your slick center.

One palm held your hip as the other skated up to your swollen nipples. He plucked and tweaked at the sensitive bud. You wailed in pleasure, bucking into his mouth. His stubbly cheeks rubbed you raw in the right way. Bucky was direct with his cunnilingus, attacking your clit mercifully. He’d dip down and slurp around your leaking cunt before going back to your bud.

You yanked a fistful of his dark hair, wrapping your legs around his meaty shoulders. He moaned into your sex, “G’fuckin girl.” You babbled uselessly, writhing in pleasure. Whatever you had put in the concoction was some sort of sex potion. You’d never felt all of your nerve endings alight like this. Your lower belly was beginning to contract as Bucky suckled on your clit while he stroked your inner walls. You were so out of it you weren’t sure when he’d slipping them in. But tears were welling up as he abused that sensitive, sensitive spot.

You keened, “Heavens above! Fuck ah ah mmh!”

He grinned against your pussy and nipped down on your clit, sending you reeling. You clamped down on his shoulders, folding on top of his body as you shook with the intense spasms. You bit your lip to keep from screeching like a banshee. You held onto Bucky’s head and panted, “Need— more— fuck need your cock Bucky please not enough.”

He shakily got up, detangling you from his body. You whined at the loss, him shushing you. Bucky cooed, “Hol’ on sweetheart lemme get ya somewhere more comfortable. M’ gonna fill you right up.” You moaned in agreement, latching into his strong arms as he hauled you to the makeshift crinoline pallet. He rubbed your back, hissing, “Need that pretty pussy baby, bet it’s Fuckin’ snug. M’ fucking raring to go, gonna wreck you. Never gonna look at a city boy again.”

“Mhm, yes please, need it need it Bucky!”

Bucky ungracefully tossed you on the cot and covered yourself with that sculpted body. He snatched your lips into a quick kiss, before shoving down his jeans to reveal his cock. It was almost purple from the amount of blood flushing the organ. You whimpered and spread your legs. Bucky growled, “Yeah— spread em’ like a good slut. Gonna wreck you.” He seated himself between your plush thighs and sheathed in a quick motion.

Your mouth opened to scream but he shoved a coarse palm over your lips. You felt complete, Bucky’s girthy cock filling you to the brim. You were so wet he met little to no resistance. Without warning the brunette started up a brutal pace, fucking into you in abandon. Slick clapping noises echoed around in the light of the late afternoon. His powerful hips and thighs pistoned into your sloppy core. You sobbed at the intensity, crying Bucky’s name like a prayer.

He gasped into you neck, panting about your perfect cunt. He slid his big hands under your knees, pressing you into a ball. The new angle

had the outlaw’s blunt tip ramming into your sweet spot. You scrabbled at his back, biting and sucking at his muscular shoulders like a feral animal. Bucky let out a pained moan,

“Fucking heavenly— good little slut. Yer’ ole’ daddy gonna be wondering why you can’t walk.”

You cried harder, wondering how the man was holding it together as he drilled you into next week. A second orgasm was approaching at a breakneck pace and threw your head back in ecstasy. Bucky laved his skilled tongue up the column of your throat, gripping your thighs. You yelled, “Oh ah— ah ah Buck m’gonna come again fuck!”

“Come on n’ take it darlin’, it’s all yours,” he spit through clenched teeth. The cowboy’s pace didn’t slow any as you reached your peak. Your legs spasmed and shook as you sobbed at the overstimulation. Petting your sides, Bucky cooed, “Easy girl, I ain’t done with you yet.” You whimpered, “S’ too much please no, I can’t!”

“Yeah you can sweet thing, gonna wear you out and fill you up like the needy slut ya’ are.”

You whined pitifully, wrapping yourself around his broad scarred back. You panted into his scruffy cheek, begging for more or less you weren’t entirely sure. But Bucky kept up. The man had flipped you around like a rag doll and pushed you through two peaks before he came with a shuddering moan and shout of your name. Bucky rolled off of you with a sigh, breathing like a racehorse. He gasped, “Whatever..the fuck..you put in m’drink..a miracle.”

You were too worn out and dazed to speak so you gave a sleepy “mhmmm.” The outlaw rolled to his side, slinging an arm around your soft waist. He rubbed at your slick skin, a strangely soft look on his face. You snuggled into his body and drifted off again.

“Awe what the fuck?! Get dressed the sheriff is coming you horn dog!,” A voice voice rattled in the shack. A darker man threw Bucky’s clothes at him, grumbling about Barnes and his wandering dick. You bolted upright and slung on your clothes. Bucky was pulling up his ranch pants, cussing at the other man ‘Sam’.

“Ease off Sam— it’ll be fine!”

Sam shouted back, “Not when she looks like she’s been mauled by a leech! Idiot!”

The two bickered until you cleared your throat, loudly. You said, “If you two will stop fighting, this corset needs lacing. Then I can put on my dress with a high neck, therefore you don’t see the markings.” Sam harrumphed, “Fine. Turn around I used to lace up Sarah all the time”. Bucky pushed Sam aside and did the deed instead.

He rumbled, “You okay?”

You nodded as you turned to look at Barnes. You whispered, “More than good. If you find your way back to Saint Denis, I live in the big peach house by the Cemetery.” Bucky replied, “Will do.” He squeezed the nape of your neck before buttoning up your dress. You attempted to fix your mussed hair in a cracked half mirror but gave up with a grunt. You pecked Bucky on the cheek, Sam groaned in frustration from the doorway.

And so your father picked you back up. It was a happy reunion, and things went back to normal in Saint Denis. Until you missed your monthly cycle. Your fathers face haunted your dreams when the doctor declared you pregnant. He hissed in the carriage, “You got knocked up by that dirty criminal didn’t ya? Rapist piece of shit. I’m contacting higher ups.” You protested before your father realized, and he turned ice cold. Things in Saint Denis weren’t normal after that. You weren’t kicked out fortunately, and the boy was to be raised as a sad circumstance of your kidnapping.

Bucky didn’t come by, but he left a letter once. Saying he was changing his ways and got some land out in Canada. Your mother burned it up in the fire. You wrote a letter back, telling him to come get you and little James when everything was settled.

“Mama? So you ran with a gang before I was born?”

You blinked and snapped out of reverie. With a sad smile you cooed, “Yes James. We were free and wild! But I had to leave to take care of you. Your father will be back one day. Then we’ll be a family.” The boy grinned and cheered, “Maybe he’ll teach me how to ride a horse!”

In the night, Bucky stared at the luxurious cabin. He proudly smiled at his hard work. Only had a trip to Saint Denis to make

[sunkissedlucida]

beautiful boy

Miles Quaritch x baby! Miles Socorro x deceased! Reader

— Life has lost its color to Quaritch since your recent passing. He continues to mourn over the loss while raising his infant son. But one night and a John Lennon song later, he feels a little more hopeful for the future.

A/N: Been simping for this man longer than I knew what love was. Guess I'm adding another fandom to my list!

Miles wakes up in the middle of the night. Flood lights of the base peek through the slightly open curtains. The starry night sky of Pandora remains visible during early hours like this. He looks over to the crib beside the bed, where he sees his baby boy fussing and crying.

"Shh," says Miles, still half-awake. "You're okay."

He sits up with a grunt. He walks over to the crib and reaches out to hold his son. The baby squirms and wails under his hold, reaching for comfort.

You were always a light sleeper, so you would usually wake up before him when the baby cried. You'd comfort him better than the colonel could. But now you're gone, leaving your husband half of what he once was. One of the few people keeping Miles together is your one-year-old son, who is also his namesake. Your little miracle and greatest joy.

The baby's diaper needs changing, so Miles puts him back down to get a new pair. His hands are shaking from exhaustion, but he manages to change the diaper without much struggle. Afterward, his son's cries diminish to whimpers and sniffling. Miles carries him and walks over to the couch. He sits down, sighing at no sight of tissues on the coffee table. He moves his hand under his shirt and uses the fabric to wipe the snot off his son's nose. If you were here, you'd be complaining about how he couldn't just look for one in the cabinets you painstakingly organized. What he'd give to hear you again.

It's been months since your death, and nothing has changed for the better to him. The world stops turning whenever the baby cries, and he can barely bring himself to eat. With his wife gone, it feels like he's not doing anything right anymore. It's simply harder to get through the day.

Miles looks down at the little one. "What's wrong, Junior? Had a nightmare?"

He looks back at his son's wide, glassy eyes. His lip quivers like he can read his father's mind. The infant nuzzles his chest with a tiny fist gripping his shirt. The sight tears his heart to shreds, knowing things can't go back to the way it was. No form of revenge against who or what killed you can bring you back. It's a lesson he learned the hard way.

"I miss her too, kid." Miles holds Junior tighter, placing kisses on his forehead.

He whispers, eyes brimming with tears, "Mommy's gone now, but I'll never let anything happen to you. Stay strong, alright?"

The child calms down and snuggles into his shoulder. Miles strokes his soft curls, closing his eyes as the two sit in silence. His calloused hands envelops his son like a blanket. Later, soft snores put his mind to rest. As his body relaxes, the tears finally stop threatening to fall.

The silence haunts him. It reminds him of how you'd fill it by playing your favorite song before bed. It is old, but it is a classic, as you would say. Miles hums the tune to himself, trying to keep the memories alive even though you're not here to show him the right notes.

"Close your eyes,

Have no fear,

The monster's gone,

He's on the run, and your daddy's here."

As he rubs the infant's back, he wonders if his son will remember that song. Will he grow up to carry the same love for music as you? Maybe one day, when he's older, he'll tell his father that you were the reason why he fell asleep every night. That the melody made him feel safe and brought him comfort. A reminder of the love that he had, and one that would always be there.

"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful

Beautiful boy

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful

Beautiful boy."

He's not sure how long he's been humming the song, but he realizes he's singing out loud. He hears the familiar lyrics coming from his throat.

The baby stirs in his arms, smiling as he snuggles closer. Miles smiles too, looking down at his son and crooning,

"Before you go to sleep

Say a little prayer

Every day in every way, it's getting better and better."

The world around him disappears. All that remains is the happiness he feels at being loved by someone he created with you. Something tells him that things are going to be okay, even if it's not now. Someday, both of them will be alright. For now and always, they have each other.

"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful

Beautiful boy

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful

Beautiful boy."

[miniscrew-anon]

Texting HC for the boys

Wind - Uses discord way more than text. Commonly mutes chats. He gets a million discord messages from different groups and he can't be bothered to listen to every time someone complains about the mountain of dishes he left in the sink. If you really want to reach Wind you have to jump on discord or go to his room.

Twilight - Doesn’t like to send more than one message in a row because someone called him desperate one (1) time in high school and he never recovered. So instead he’ll send you a whole paragraph and agonize if he forgot to mention something. Everyone’s told him its fine to send literally a million texts in a row but Twi can’t get over it.

Warriors - Will 🙌 ironically 😎 text 📲 like ❤️ this 👏. But only when he wants to be annoying. Otherwise he’s fine and he can use emojis like hieroglyphics if he wants and he’s able to make himself very clear with just an eggplant emoji and a raised brow emoji.

Wild - Commonly texts the wrong chat and confuses the hell out of people. Accidentally forgets his phone in the other room and doesn’t see people’s messages until its several hours too late btu still texts them back like “oops sorry just saw this man” as if they didn’t know. Uses emojis liberally and goes on tangents and makes everyone forget what they were talking about. The people love hearing from him, but its hard to stay on topic when Wild is in the group chat.

Champion - Full words, no abbreviations. Will straight up send you an “acknowledged” instead of an “ok” to let you know he read your message. Never uses emojis. Ever. The one time Warriors did convince Champ to send a thumbs up emoji to Sky instead of “affirmative”, Sky almost broke down the dormitory door because he thought Champion had gotten kidnapped and was sending a coded cry for help.

Legend - Spams the fuck out of everyones phone when he’s pissed, which is a lot of the time. Doens’t give a shit what group text he’s in he’ll fucking send you an essay one sentance at a time cursing Sky out for eating the last of his goddamn breadpudding.

Hyrule - Never responds on time. He’s always busy and in a rush so when he reads a text and it doesn’t say something like “help i got shanked and now my liver is flopping around on the ground like a beached fish” then he’ll promptly forget what he just read. At the end of the day he might flip through his messages to check what he missed but normally he relies on Legend to fill him in on anything important.

Sky - Forgets which group chats hold which roommates so he’s the guy who will start a new chat every time he has a question. Has basically every permutation of group chats possible and yet will still find a way to make more. And he gives them names like “get milk” and “hairdryer?” so you never know whos in the group chat at a glance. It’s impossible to find anything. Plus, he sends texts half-asleep that mean nothing when he gets woken up too early.

Four - His texts are inconsistent as hell. Sometimes its emoji hell, sometimes it’s MLA essay format. But two things are always consistent: you can always detect the sarcasm and he’ll turn on his read receipts just to let you know he left you on read.

Time - Texts in full sentences but overall is a normal texter. But he types with his pointer finger with two hands so his real crime is being old.

Dark - When he got put away texting was in its infancy so he texts like “G8 C u L8r” and “ur 2 much”. The first time he texts Time after he gets out Time feels his soul vaporized by the blast from the past. Thankfully it only takes Dark one text to Shadow before the boy is physically showing up outside Dark's door to bring him into this century.

Shadow - Spams dumbass videos and memes like his life depends on it. His job is a lot of waiting around so he’s got time to kill and you Will receive messages from him at 39 mph (memes per hour).

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Amelia Mavis Christnot at The Big Picture:

When I attended an Ivy League school in the late 1980s, rich, White, male, legacy students lamented about the evils of “affirmative action.” The school—founded in 1769—only began to admit women in 1972 and people of color were few and far between until the late 1960s.

And not surprisingly, it was assumed by most that  these admissions were given to unqualified individuals to meet a race or gender based quota.  They believed and preached the 200+ years worth of almost exclusively rich, White men were all highly qualified to attend an Ivy League institution and receive the lifelong benefits of being an alumnus. The women and BIPOC now in their midst were unqualified and unworthy individuals who stole a spot from a White man. The absurdity of this mindset never occurred to them. But as I pointed out in my piece How Men Like Donald Trump, Brett Kavanaugh And Brock Turner Are Made, the academic underachievers at my Ivy in 1987 were those crying the loudest about the unfairness of affirmative action programs. As far as test scores and GPAs of incoming freshmen, White, male students scored the lowest on average with some White students of sufficient means actually falling below the minimum scores required for admissions.

How does someone like Donald Trump who writes and speaks at a grade school level graduate—allegedly—in 1968 from University of Pennsylvania's prestigious Wharton School of Business?  Being rich, White and male.

Time and time again, elite athletes and legacy students—students whose families attended institutions for generations when those schools were exclusively for White males—score lower than so-called affirmative action students—women and BIPOC.

“DEI Hire” And The Great Replacement Theory

Today, the fear associated with the term affirmative action has lost its potency after the conservative majority of the United States Supreme Court decided enforcing equality in evaluating candidates for academic opportunities was unconstitutional. In June of 2023, the SCOTUS ruled 6-3 that affirmative action programs at Harvard University and the University of North Carolina violate the Constitution’s equal protection clause, which bars racial discrimination by government entities. Today's new conservative scare tactics and insults use DEI—diversity, equity, and inclusion—instead. It ties in well with the Great Replacement Theory promoted by White/Christian nationalists which claims a coordinated effort is being made to replace the White, Christian majority with Jews and BIPOC. Unlike affirmative action horror stories which are most often related to college admissions, private and public institutions and businesses and government entities in the United States have an office or officer dedicated to DEI. Conservative talking heads have gotten their base worked up to the point where you routinely see calls for boycotts and backlash on social media because their favorite company has a DEI office.

[...]

What Is DEI Supposed To Be?

For the underrepresented or historically excluded, DEI offers a promise of a “place at the table” for everyone who should be there. [...] Equity ensures opportunities are free from bias and discrimination. It's pointless to have a seat at the table when the diversity table is tucked in a back corner by the kitchen while the old guard carries on like always. Inclusion ensures everyone gets a chance to speak and be heard. In a past editorial job, our team discussed that the loudest voice in the room needs to be from the community affected. 

[...] While these men see diversity as the problem, the author points out the real issue is their own privilege and entitlement. Underrepresented and historically excluded peoples will see a job that they are applying and competing for, those complaining see the job, the school admission, the opportunity as rightfully belonging to them. Such attitudes are the backbone of modern movements like MAGA, White supremacy, Christian nationalism, and White nationalism. They believe the world belongs to them.

Amelia Mavis Christnot wrote in The Big Picture on how the right-wing’s war on DEI is about protecting White male privilege and backlash over being forced to compete with other (and often underrepresented folks) for spots that they earned just because they were a White man.

[sn4pozu]

my headcanons of Eddie Gluskin if he had a twitter :

he'd repost those RETVRN incel trad memes where its like a woman doing house chores & man doing job stuff

would get into arguments with a woman and subscribe to her onlyfans at the same time (gets mad when blocked)

tries to be professional and a know-it-all but also his entire likes tab is porn (he doesnt know it shows publicly)

calls someone a whore & drops a bible verse in the same thread arguing with them

idk if he'd be delighted with minion memes or viscerally hate them

USES DISNEY REACTION GIFS WITH NO SHAME , USES A CRYING STITCH GIF AT A DODO VIDEO OF A DOG DYING

If twitter bans his account mid argument he'd flip the fuck out and make 3 gmails & alts at the same hour

100% posts creepy comments under peoples post and gets upset if it gets hidden

flirts so much you'd think hes a bot but no he's just sending random women his number (does he care if they're married or not is completely dependant on his mood)

uses the nice guy card whenever shit starts going south

he gets doxxed he goes like "that's not me" (lies, is scared)

either that or he lashes out and start sending them death threats who knows

menace with the twitter Voice Note feature

not even a mutual KYS no hes going to write out his whole murder fantasy in a person's DMs and blocks them before they could respond

gets IP banned on twitter like, weekly, he just figures out VPN apps and finds a way to harrass people constantly

media tab is his breakfast and someones mutilated genitals, bi-weekly photo updates maybe

im not saying he would complain about hairloss but he would complain about hairloss

"i got declined by the pharmacist for asthma medication, fucking bitch *insert something mysogonistic*"

thinks bitcoin is stupid and not a real "manly job" so he dogs on them pretty horribly

thinks tech jobs are for NERDS and says it outloud whenever them NFT bros are commenting under his shit attacking him for calling them nerds

Cracked phone screen with blood in the cracks (he tried to clean it with soapy water on a towel but it just ruined the lcd now its forever stained yellow) ((free bluescreen eye protector mode ?)) (((also has to violently tap the home button because its already broken & that part of the screen died))) ((((has an odd smell))))

he wishes he'd have glasses for the phone screen but all he does is squint

would post dress updates though <3 maybe retweets sewing patterns and videos of old women knitting and go "my grandmother used to do that pattern, ❤️ Wow."

goes back to shitting on women

*posts black coffee with 2 fruitflies in it* "A Good Way To Start A Morning ☕"

posts half eaten food and the dirty plate and would be like "Delicious food today 😋 i almost forgot to pots." -- deletes & reposts because of the typo. PEOPLE CANNOT THINK HE'S WEAK.

His vest would 100% be posted on those gimmick accounts and gets picked on for it being crusty & grody 😔

DMs like multiple women at the same time and either gets immediately blocked or ghosted after a face reveal

he Has cried because of twitter comments before, never again......

has twitter warning threads made of him and has tried to draw a stupid fucking wojack on paper with pencil & pen because he doesnt know how to edit photos but he still wants to own the haters

posts gore to own the haters as well and then got mass reported to death when people found 0 similar images of the gore he posted

'A Thread On @/Eddie287367927 TW: Gore, Mutilation, Harassment, Transphobia, Misogyny'

probably had a youtube documentary made about his twitter acc and all the drama he got himself into (either by accident or for fun)

ok this idea kinda came up to me after i saw a trad meme come up on my tl and i just HAD to dump this all out somewhere

[thewrittingpan]

Painting Lies

Feitan/reader (with a slight mention of phinks/reader and shalnark/reader)

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

He was surprisingly gentle. Nails would carve jagged lines down your legs, he’d press bruises into your skin. The burning of ointment, and warm water often pull gasps from your throat. The stinging and burning of the cuts grasped the air in your chest by its tail, twisting and tugging until it was yanked out, the same way he used pliers on that poor man's teeth when he was annoyed. At least you weren't left with gaping bloody holes when your breath and whines were ripped out.

You met him at an exhibition. There was a gentle background of classical music, a flood of people chattering away as they strolled through the exhibit. You hid in plain sight, your name tag on your chest, staring across the room at a piece made by someone else. Their line work was wonderful, each mark beautifully dragged your eyes across the piece in a loop. Its web pushing you out and pulling you in again. You hated it, it wasn’t bad no, but it was exactly what you wished to be. You were jealous, so filled with envy that you wanted to scream, to cry, and to throw a fit, sob into your pillow, and be comforted by your old stuffed friend.

You liked your little corner, and you happily talked with no one, becoming quick friends with the snack table. A few people came over to complement your work, and you nodded and thanked them. Perhaps you were too anxious, maybe it was a bad day, but you felt like your thanks were forced. It felt like you were stripped bare in front of them, caught halfway through changing. Plucked from the shower, your hair still dripping wet, as if you were halfway through shampooing.

He was different. His eyes were sharp, he felt social-avoidant, more so than you. You stood silently near each other for a while. You still felt like you were on a platter but less so as he took the liberty of glances at your name tag and gazed across the room. He stepped closer as the room grew less crowded.

“You made those?” he motioned toward your section of the exhibition.

You nodded slowly, feeling as if you were shivering like a scared dog.

“They’re good.”

“Thank you.”

You stole sips from your drink, glancing up at him every so often. He looked nice in the suit, it was tailored well, and the vents in the back didn't have the shipping treads still attached. You noticed that it helped you realize who was most likely to have money, and at the very least let you know who knew how to dress in a formal setting.

“The one-piece, with the organs, looked real.”

“Oh? Yeah, I stared at images of surgery the whole time while painting it.” You twirled your straw around your glass. The ice tapped against the cup, like the glass wind chimes that hug from your balcony. Your downstairs neighbor complained about them and you had to get rid of them. Sometimes you still see yourself sitting there in your chair, with your cat tucked behind your feet sleeping. “I didn't get the color right, I should have worked on it longer, it doesn't have enough eye movement.” The piece you’ve been glaring at didn't have those imperfections.

“I like it.”

I like talking with you. “I’m glad.”

You saw the time, realizing you had to go. There were awards to be handed out, and all of them were another reason for you to grow jealous. You wondered if stuffing your pockets full of snacks would be a good thing to come from this night.

“Are you going to the award ceremony?”

He looked back at you, thinking about it perhaps, you wouldn't blame him. They can be boring, especially if they’re unnecessarily long. He nodded, stepping forward without saying anything. He looked over towards you, waiting only a moment before you walked alongside him.

Your table was close to the walls. Nicely placed close to the snacks and drinks, but not close enough to have people hovering behind you. Having your pieces sold wasn't a guarantee, so you stuffed small handfuls of the free food into your bag when you thought no one was looking.

You didn't care to remember much about the night. Your legs were killing you, and you felt like you could sleep through a week when you got home. You liked your brief time with that man, the one you never caught the name of. It was a slow quiet conversation that dragged on but it didn't feel as awkward as you were used to. In a way, you wished to see him again, to have him be a new familiar face at any future show you had. You liked him, in the way you like a staple background character in a show.

You were more than shocked to find out that every piece of yours sold. Even more so when you saw you got more than the original asking price. You were crying with joy, while you practically jumped off the walls letting yourself celebrate with a childish movie and a more spendy takeout meal than you usually allow yourself from time to time. You fell asleep watching it, your cat curled up on your chest.

Your streak of good luck had you dancing all week. You danced with your cat as you took breaks from your projects, swinging him in your arms like he was a newborn. His little squeaks of a meow made you squeal with delight. You peppered kisses across his nose and ears, brushing his chest and desperately fighting off mats that always tried to appear in his fur. Your day job was boring as usual but there were fewer annoying things to deal with. You lucked out managing to snag a deal on paints, even managing to fit an experimental project into your personal use stash of cash.

In your unprofessional opinion, the best thing to happen was bumping into that man from the exhibit. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun started to dip down behind buildings and trees. You had to make a quick stop at a convenience store, the chime of the door welcoming you. You passed by the man in the green jacket waiting on a pack of cigarettes. Your shoes clicked on the floor, they made you feel cute, if you weren't in public maybe you’d spin in a circle and laugh, telling a joke to yourself about being a teacher walking in the halls. You grabbed a small can of tuna, a treat for your cat until you could get his food tomorrow when the store opened. You made sure to triple-check your budget and grab a snack for yourself.

There were a lot of things that needed to be done; you had bills due next week, the cat needed more food, you needed to check on litter sales, and you needed to do some grocery shopping. You need to check the calendar when you get home, that cat of yours needs to go to the groomer to help with his too-fluffy face. Then lost in thought you took a step back bumping into someone behind you.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You turned around, already apologizing with real sincerity.

“It’s fine.”

“Oh! You’re the guy from the thing,” You nearly didn't recognize him, half his face was covered after all. His eyes though were just so sharp, they were calculating and every time they dragged across the room it felt like the walls and floors shivered as a person would. They were beautiful in a scary intimidating way, matched with his silence you would have never dared talk with him.

“Do you live here? Or are you passing through or something?” Maybe you should have been more scared, no you should have been more scared, it was worse than extended family gatherings where you had to sit next to your father’s 3rd cousin’s great-niece, who was also your age with perfect grades and decorated in awards. Part of you desperately wanted to talk to him. You felt so strange dancing around your words, biting on sentences, and licking your comas, but you wanted to get to know this guy, as weird and as awful as it sounded, you kinda had a crush on the guy. It would explain your actions at least.

“Staying for business for a few weeks.”

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again, if that happens and you’re free I could show you this really pretty place with a bunch of cute kitties!” You smiled to yourself and went to check out your things, “I like doodling the cats sometimes they can be so silly, it's peaceful there,” you hummed a little note, thinking of them playing with each other and snacking on treats people left for them. “Anyways, it was nice seeing you again! In case we don't meet again, have a good few weeks!” You waved him goodbye and left with the ring of the door.

You passed through the streets until you were home and greeted by the cat sleeping atop the fridge. He was comfortably curled up with his tail covering his eyes and nose. His little pink ears poked out from atop his head twitching when the door opened and closed. His paws hung over the edge of the fridge, his little paw pads covered in dust and a little dirt from the plant on your balcony.

You went about your day painting his paws. Working diligently on your projects and scrambling to find that damned sketchbook. There were a thousand things to do during your very short few days before your exhibit. Everything was nearly complete. You needed to finish that one cursed liver that was not agreeing with the angle, and you had some hooks to hang to the back of a couple of others. That public showcase needed a more grief-stricken feel, you needed to figure out how to make it ooze out of the piece, and make this more than some random extra gory piece.

You worked late into the evening, you had bright white lights shining down onto the canvas from over your shoulders. When you started yawning every few minutes, your eyes started to water and you were starting to fight to keep focus, you decided to rest. The knot in your shoulders pinched and pulled at you stretched. You struggled to run your knuckles across your back as if to weed out the knots. You rubbed your eyes and noticed you forgot to close the blinds.

Living on the upper floors came with the benefit of safety. Though it did concern you that someone across the street could have been watching you. You’d simply need to make sure to do that every time you start to paint. Or set an alarm on your phone to make sure you close them each night. Though it was late and you needed to finish as soon as you could, so you didn't bother to go change into some fluffy pajamas or curl up into your bed but plopped onto your cheap futon with your cat and a small mountain of blankets you swiped from across the house and just let the exhaustion catch up with you.

Your hard work paid off. You reached your deadline, and while you had a thousand vile words for your last piece others only had small criticisms that you graciously thanked them for. You found yourself stuffing your face with snacks and yawning to yourself in-between conversations. You swear that if you miss one night of full sleep, you feel it for weeks.

Through the nice clothes of passersby and the quiet background chatter of the room, you saw that same guy looking up at one painting. His face was gently covered in a veil to cover his emotions, you couldn't read them even if you knew how. Yet he looked up and the way he looked made you want to believe that he liked it, you hoped that he was gazing up at it with admiration. He looked away from it, meeting eyes with you.

In a sudden surge of confidence, you stepped forward, your hands filled with your small prize of free food. You didn't know what you wanted to say to this man, but you did like how he looked in a suit, it's not your place to comment on his clothing but you preferred to see his lips the few times he spoke. You offered your handful of snacks as you munched on a cube of cheese, biting into pepper jack, how did you feel about the warm pepper jack?

“Do you like it?”

“Sort of.”

You looked up at the painting, your last one, the one that gave you the most trouble. The details still felt all wrong, the emotion was there but it was muddy, and hard to feel.

“It doesn't look like a liver,” you both said to each other.

You felt so excited, he knew it was off too, he knew that it wasn't right. “What’s wrong with it?” you smiled looking at the painting, tilting your head to see if that would help.

“The shading there,” he pointed, “ It doesn't have the right shade it should, and the blood vessels are too easy to see there.”

“Do you think a wash would fix it? I could give this a purple color in the shadows, less dark maybe like a lilac color? But then that part would look too uniform…”

You walked past each piece talking about the issues you could fix with the gorier ones, and how you could make the less gory invoke a desperate and sorrowful feeling.

“Can I ask if you're a collector or a critic?” You yawned a little, but you still felt decently awake, “I’m just curious you don't have to answer.”

“Neither,” he didn't bat an eye at your anxious stumble of words. “I went to the other one because my boss asked me to.”

“Did you come to this one because you wanted to?”

He didn't answer right away. “Yes.”

“Well I’m glad, it meant I could use you as an excuse to avoid conversation,” you joked, once again yawning as you sat down on a bench.

“You’re tired.”

“Yeah, I had to pull one too many all-nighters. I have to catch the last bus.”

He sat down next to you. Deep down inside you, exhaustion was bubbling up. It floated up to your skin melting away at your muscles and nerves. With every breath, you took it chewed through you until you were speaking in yawns and blinking through watery eyes. You wiped away at it, trying to keep yourself afloat in your head and not be dragged down into sleep.

“I could drive you home.”

You sniffled and yawned, trying to think. “I’d like that, I think, I’m just not exactly comfortable with it…” you couldn't ride the bus like this, you couldn't have some stranger drive you home like this either. Yet as if the world was against you, you had to pick between two awful ideas.

“Okay, you can drive me home, just don’t kidnap me, murder me, or any other gross shit okay?” You knew that the request made no logical sense but it made you feel ever so slightly more comfortable with the idea.

You typed your address into his phone, sinking into the passenger seat of what you kinda assumed was a rental car, though you didn’t care to ask while half asleep. The humm of the car on the empty streets was calming. The constant sound and the passing of the buildings only caused you to feel more sleepy, and you just slipped away. It just became so hard to fight to stay awake, it made you feel calm and there was an odd sense of comfort in it, falling asleep in the car, it reminded you of being a little kid.

You briefly woke up when the passenger door opened and you were plucked from the car. You made some confused noise which caused him to speak.

“I’ll carry you in.”

You mumbled something to him, probably your apartment number. Then you unsurprisingly feel asleep again. You kinda woke up to unlock the door. The handle was weird and had to be pushed just right to get the door to open.

“Come in if you want.” You said kicking off your uncomfy fancy shoes and scooping your very confused cat off the floor. He stared wide-eyed at the strange man that was invited into your home.

You had yet to move back into your bed so you collapsed just like every other night on your shitty little futon. “You can sleep over if you want, there’s my room that way if ya want the bed, possibly a sleeping bag if you’ll put up with a pink one from when I was nine.” You vaguely pointed in the directions of each place before promptly forgetting what happened next.

You woke up to a beautiful smell and a pile of blankets, pillows, and a pink sleeping bag on the floor. You were mildly confused but just rolled yourself onto the floor with your mountain of blankets and pillows. Nothing meowed when you landed so you took it as a success.

“Food.”

You looked out of the blankets at the feet beside your head. “I had like nothing in there to make real food out of?” You looked up at him confused.

“I grabbed stuff.”

“That’s like husband material right there.”

You yawned sitting up with a groan. He walked away back to the kitchen, and you looked down at yourself, wondering when you changed into pajamas, but it wouldn’t have been the weirdest thing you’ve done while asleep so you moved on like an idiot. That savory smell made you salivate like a starved dog. It was like your shitty little kitchen was glowing with holy light.

“Thank you so much!”

He nodded, sitting down on a mismatched stool next to you. You didn't mind eating in silence, you were so excited to have a home-cooked meal that tasted good, you may be able to do many things but cooking was not your forte.

“I leave tonight, will you show me the cat place?”

“The cat place?” you stared at him for a moment before it dawned on you and you practically screamed, “The cat place! Oh yes, I will! I have some wet food that we can feed them! My cat is picky and won’t eat the kind I wanted him to try.”

That's how you came to lead him through this bright sunny park, with a small bag of cat food and treats. It wasn’t warm, there was this slight cool feel to the air, when you stepped into the sun it warmed you instantly but as the leaves covered you from it you felt a shiver deep in your bones.

You stopped at a small little creek tucked away from the open park. You sat yourself on the ground and opened your bag, you had to fish out all your little gifts for the cats and handed him a can of cat food.

“Get ready, it's adorable.” You grasped the pull tab looking out across the grass and rocks.

Then pulled up the tab and unsealed the can. A series of loud meows and cries echoed around the trees as cats started locking their heads out of bushes and grass to find the food. You had a huge smile on your face and stood up to dump the food across the ground for them to fight over. You sprinkled and tossed some solid treats in the grass and across the rocks. Sometimes crows and ravens would eat them so you sat down and enjoyed watching the cats.

You gently stroked the kittens that climbed up your legs to grab your food. You playfully pushed the friendlier cats over and let them kick at your hands and naw on your fingers. The quiet man had let the cats rub along his sides scratching their heads. He said nothing but you’d sometimes catch him looking at you. You laughed holding a cat up to your face, and holding its paw so it looked like he was waving at the man.

“You know mister, a cute kitten such as myself, still doesn’t know your name.” You kissed the cat's head before placing him back on the ground. “But you obviously know mine, it’s quite unfair don’t you think?”

“Fetain,” he said, “Not unfair now.”

You laughed lightly and tossed him a water bottle, sifting through your bag to give him a simple sandwich and pulled out some snacks. The sun moved slowly pulling across the sky, shining down from the branches. The sun stippled across the grass, sparkling across the rocks of the creek, and curressing the kittens who were bathing in its warmth.

“It’s a shame you leave tonight.”

Your fingers plucked a fallen leaf from the ground, you rubbed your thumb across its veins, feeling the slight bumps. It was a smooth yellow, freshly fallen from the branches. It was leathery, and you loved its color. Staring at it left you feeling as if you had been gazing up at the sunrise, watching the sun scatter across the stream.

“I like this color.” You looked over at him, “reminds me of a sunrise, the white wispy clouds dyed this pale yellow and highlighting parts of the water…” you drew yourself into a melancholy silence, if you had a chance to watch the sunrise with him and the cats you would.

“Cheesy,” he huffed a small chuckle.

“I know I know, it’s gross and cheesy,” you rolled your eyes, “kinda looks like a cartoon cheese yellow, now that ya say that.”

“It’s getting late, sun's setting.”

“Oh, do you wanna be cheesy and watch it?” You wrapped your arms around your knees and looked over at him.

He didn’t say much of anything but leaned back onto his arms to watch alongside you. You pulled a friendly fur ball into your lap, and rubbed his little ears.

“I think my cat liked you, he’s pretty shy, but he seemed to like you.”

“He was cute.”

“Isn't he?” you laid down with a smile looking up at him. “I think he’d be cuddling with you in no time if you keep visiting.”

Saying goodbye was a bitter moment. You desperately didn’t want him to leave, you realized that you had become so isolated in your daily life. The momentary companionship had left a bittersweet taste, and the more you stayed hung up on it the more it felt like your teeth were rotting away from your overthinking. You tried to go out more after he left. You’d sit sketching the little creek you had shown him. If anything you felt yourself faced with an embarrassing block.

You repeated the same ideas, the same concepts but nothing felt complete, everything was missing something. There weren’t enough emotions maybe, or everything was too muddled together. Perhaps you were the problem and we’re trying too hard, or the idea wasn’t completed, and you were rushing it. Working through the block was a painful endeavor, you spent hours sitting and just listening to music, trying to let your mind wonder. Somewhere a seed of an idea was uncovered, a small fragile thing covered in a thin layer of dirt.

You rolled it between your fingers, the texture needed to be grooved, little threads feathering the figure. How can you capture the sorrow? How can you make something violent and graceful at once? You needed desperation in the figure, the hands needed to search for another that wasn’t there, it needed to feel both cruel and comforting, or maybe it would morph into something new, something that would take on its own life, becoming more than a painting filled with an empty heart. You found yourself transfixed on the eyes. They were the most detailed aspect, you found yourself drawn to them adding so much detail that every brush stroke was a reflection of yourself. When you had to cover it with a cloth, you knew you were succeeding.

You became haunted by the painting, its eyes followed you with that cruel pity. There was something foreboding with the way it giggled at you. You became absent minded with the time, forgetting to take care of yourself as you painted a nightmare of dependency. Having the eyes be such a focal point was a great idea and you were sure that it would look perfect when it was complete but it was just so gastly. It’s effect on you was proving how successful it was already though you had only been working for a short while.

You continued sleeping on your cheap futon while you worked passing out late into the morning and arising even later into the afternoon. Honestly you became too focused on work, ignoring your phone and missing the messages from that mysterious guy you think is cute not knowing he was visiting town again, honestly you should have been taking brakes and paying more attention.

When Fetain showed up at your door you were dressed in one of your painting shirts and left awkwardly without pants, since you had been neglecting your chores.

He stood staring at the painting as you folded your laundry, he would have sat down but the cat was fond of that chair. Fetain was drawn to the eyes too, or at least that’s what you guessed, he was staring intently at every little detail and it was nice if you had to be honest. He wasn’t someone you felt like you needed to look up to, not a teacher or a critic, or not that you know of at least, god you hope not, but he seemed genuinely interested in the ideas you had. Every concept seemed to make him think, the more abstract left him with open ended inferences, and there were a thousand ways one painting could inspire him. You sometimes see that shine in his eyes where he gets an idea. You never asked but you were starting to get curious about it.

“The eyes need to have more shadows.”

You waddled over folding a pair of pants, looking over his shoulder, “show me.”

The eye lids, you somehow missed that important detail and your shading was off. His hand pointed to the shoulder and the shoulder blades.

“Too sharp, and looks like they’re missing a lot of blood.”

“That’s not a bad idea actually, to purposefully make them look like that.” You leaned forwards holding your folded pants to your chest, you traveled your finger down the spine, “I could try to make these look sharper as if something like a knife is digging from the inside out? Do you think that would be too much?” You looked up at him.

“If you don’t like it you can always change it.”

You hummed in agreement, “I think I’ll try it and maybe I can make it look more bruised too.” You went back to folding your things thinking out loud about some of your n ideas under your breath.

“I’ll make food.”

“You really don’t have to do that you know, I appreciate it and I mean I love your cooking so I’m not going to say no it’s just, I feel a little awkward with a guest cooking, does that make sense?”

He nodded and started searching through your kitchen to get an idea of what you had. “I’ll still cook.”

There was something sweet about working on the painting as he cooked. You were jealous of his cooking, last time you had it it stuck in your thoughts. You’d be laying there and then shout out with annoyance as you could slightly taste it still, you could remember the way it melted on your tongue, you savored it and wished to rip into a newly made dish with the ferocity of a rabid dog. You felt like how you imagine your cat does when looking at an empty bowl and the empty box of treats that was mocking him.

You slowly went about putting your folded clothes back in the closet and your drawers. It was mundane but taking the break you needed was helping with preventing any sort of burn out. While you were in your room putting things away you just started wandering around and moving things that had been moved from their correct spots, you must have been looking for something and got distracted before fixing it. Some of your selves were getting dusty, you should wipe them down but you also needed to clean the bathroom.

You settled with staring in the bathroom, it would be less fun but it was needed more than the rest. You sorted through old makeup tossing out old products and things you hadn’t used in a while. You shuffled through spilt bandages boxes and your medicine cabinet. You scrubbed off the grime from the counters and the dust that had collected in the small corners.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Little spots and marks on the glass dotted across your reflection. You could tell that you’ve been doing nothing but working for days. Your skin thankfully wasn’t bad but you started the process of washing it and attempting to prevent acne from bubbling up worse in the few spots that were starting to get a little more irritated. If the visit that you had missed the warning of had ruffle your feathers you relaxed as you rinsed off your face. It was grounding in a way, basic self care that can easily be pushed to the side and missed in a rush, and the warm water comforted you in the chill of autumn.

You walked back out where that beautiful smell was strongest, pulling the knots and tangles out of your hair as you did. The pan was sizzling and you could hear it as you came around the corner. You’d tug on your hair and a series of pops from the stove would mimic you. Tug. Pop pop. Tug. Pop pop. Tug tug. Pop.

“It smells good.”

“Good it’s done.”

You ate mostly quietly, caught up too much on the distinct flavors, and a myriad of textures. You happily tried everything with a joy comparable to that of a puppy running so fast that it ends up stumbling into its mother's legs. When you bit down into something bitter your nose scrunched up, and your eyes closed. You whined a little at the surprise and made a little joke about how maybe you shouldn't trust his cooking after all. He rolled his eyes and slid you a piece of his meal that he knew you enjoyed much more than you had gotten to tell him.

“Eat and stop complaining.”

You saw a glimmer in his eye and laughed, taking a bite of his kindness.

You talked quietly on your futon, some random thing playing on tv to fill the background. You tended to mostly be the one talking, it's not that you minded but sometimes you questioned if you were boring him or if he wanted to say something. You just kept talking to him and convincing your cat to trust him a bit more. When you started getting a little sleepy he didn't mind, offering to do the dishes while you rested.

“Are you sure? You already did the-” you were cut off by your yawn, “cooking.”

“It's fine, sleep.”

“Okay, but at least let me put them away when I wake up.” you lay down, watching him walk to the kitchen, “I don't want you doing all of it,” and you slipped to sleep, with your cat crawling onto your back not too much later.

It felt fuzzy and it blurred together like watered-down acrylic. You saw him scrubbing away in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Your eyes dipped shut and when you pulled them apart half aware that you didn't want to sleep, he wasn't in the kitchen, he was walking around your home. He must have finished and wanted to let you sleep, you rationalized as you blinked asleep again. It felt so warm, so comforting to be asleep, but something was missing, something was off. You couldn't keep your eyes open anymore, you just laid there, eyes closed half aware that something was wrong.

You heard your cat meow. It was low and drawn out. He was upset. What could be upsetting him? You vaguely remember reaching for him but couldn't remember if you found him or if he was doing better or not. You definitely didn’t know why he was upset, or if comfort is what he needed, but you still longed to stop his crying.

The room was different, you noticed that first. You nearly didn’t notice it, a lot of the room looked familiar, but the furniture wasn’t as distressed as the ones you had. There was no sticker from when you were a kid on the shelf on the bottom. The shelves were arranged the same and even had the same things that you had in yours. It felt like you woke up from a weird dream. The shelves of books had the books you were missing in series and even books you wanted to read.

You didn’t really believe it, your sheets were different but so alike at the same time. It was clearly an attempt to replicate it as best as possible. You tossed the blankets off of you panic slowly seeping in, you were so confused so lost, you could have sworn you were home asleep on your futon, but this looked eerily close to your room.

Where was your cat? Had he been left behind? What happened to Fetain? Where were you, and why the hell did it look so much like your room?

You looked under the bed finding your cat tucked away with one of your shoes. His front paws were wrapped around the toes and his head was resting on the ankle of the shoe. Relief for his well-being leaked through you as you called out his name like a whisper, desperate for him to truly show you he was alright. His big eyes opened wide and he yawned squeaking as he stretched out his limbs before crawling over to you. You combed your fingers through his fur, and he purred and mewled, letting you drag him up to your face and cradle him like a newborn. His warm soft and fluffy body grounded you as you looked around wide-eyed at the room, for an embarrassingly long time you just sat there frozen and confused in the corner wondering what was going on.

You desperately clung to him, pulling open the closet to see your clothes lose threads, stains, and all, but mixed in were clothes that weren't yours at all. You took laps around the room inspecting everything in sight. The shelves had things that were nearly impossible to replace and things you had thought were long gone. There was a bag near the bed and when you peeked inside there were more, little knick-knacks and trinkets, books with notes, and emotionally important gifts.

It felt like choking. Suffocating. A thousand things went wrong like a ship in a bottle tossed helplessly onto the shoreline with jagged rocks. You wanted to sob feeling as if you were being torn into a million pieces, scattered across the wind. You grabbed the door handle wondering if you should open it or if you should even try to see if it was locked. Should you be sitting in bed pretending to be asleep still? Behave and be good in the hopes that you don't get brutally murdered? There were too many options, and you twisted the door handle.

It opened easily and you looked out into a hallway. It was plain, sparse with nothing on the walls, there was nothing except the orange lights humming above you. There were voices down the hall you stared down towards them. Should you see who that is? Should you go back and tuck yourself back into the sheets? It was all so strange, standing in the doorway of the mimic of your room, looking around at an unfamiliar place.

You stepped tenderly across the carpet that seemed to you like glass. Each step made you feel like the floor creaked and groaned, splintering and cracking with each timid tiptoe. You felt so cold, shivering and quaking down the long looming hall. There was a loud frustrated yell, a curse, and a mocking laugh, you peered around the corner tucked into yourself.

Two men, both blondes, were sitting around a tv, a low table covered in marks and scratches was scattered with cans and cups. There were wrappers and chips, a standard mess of snacks and drinks that had piled up. The two blondes threatened each other as they focused intently on the TV screen playing some sort of shooter game. You looked across it all into a kitchen that needed a bit of a clean too, it was much better than the table but some take out boxes were set next to the trash can.

You didn’t know what to do. A thousand different emotions glued you to the floor, tears threatened to run lines down your cheeks until it melted through the meat of your cheeks. Oh how crying could provide comfort, to be swaddled up with a tub of something sweet, and to whail to some cute comfort show. It was cruel, to be standing there like a statue, but as fragile as a newborn. You couldn’t do anything but someone could easily hurt you and make horrible nightmares cling like phantoms. Even worse they’ll be true and real digging claws to your skin and sinking down into muscle and bone.

You retreated back, tucking yourself around the corner. The sweet boy that was your cat mewled and squirmed digging his claws into your shoulder, as a toddler would try to stabilize itself in a parents’ arms. How many times would things go wrong?

You scattered backwards down the hall, the two blondes turning around the corner to see you standing not too far from them. You didn’t say anything to them, you couldn’t. There was nothing to do, you just kept backing up, holding on desperately to your cat, trying not to hurt him, but also it felt like you were holding a stuffed animal at this point.

“Where am I? Who are you?” it felt like you were choking, a plastic bag forced over your head as you were left gasping and sputtering for air almost. “Why am I here?” You felt like you were shouting but it was nothing more than a whisper, and your mind was reeling and spinning, a hurricane tore through your thoughts as you spiraled and gapped for air.

It became so hard to breathe, too difficult to try to stay calm and hold back the tears. You were shaking and panting, your chest rising and falling faster than a ball would bounce. It was horrible losing your thoughts as fear and panic overtook you. It became hard to know what was going on, and hard to stay standing as the floor seemed to sway and rock like the deck of a boat. The two men seemed a little shocked. One looked more awkward than anything.

You shook your head frantically, and stepped back like a dog in a corner. You were scared and everything just came imploding into you. When the cat squirmed out of your arms you were so lost and confused that you didn’t reach for him again, you watched him hide in the room you woke up in with a glassy and far away look. Somehow it felt like your body wasn’t yours, a doll tossed and strewn about the floor, left to be picked up by the next kid to come across you. Yet you laid there sobbing, shaking your body, and your face boiling as you cried. It must have been a pathetic sight, a desperate and lonely picture.

You didn’t fight more than a gentle push at one of the men's faces, as one picked you up from your puddle on the floor. It wasn’t like you even recognized which one it was, there was nothing you could do. The act was nothing more than a bleeding mouse trying to push away a cat. Nothing useful would come of it, it was a last act of defiance, a testament to freedom, and a symbol that you didn’t approve of this, that it was thrusted upon you by someone else. It was nothing more than that, but it boiled and evaporated just as fast as your emotions spilled over. You yawned through tears but leaned into the hold, because everyone needs comfort over everything else.

Fetain was like a shadow. He stood out in the room, the bright pale walls and the curious oddities of your old home made him look like a monster. He didn’t so much as speak a word along the lines of “good morning” just sat in a chair pulled back from the desk, with one of your books in hand. You knew it was your book, it’s hard to mimic the bite marks along the bottom corner of the first ten pages or so. You remember getting it to, remember reading it for the first time. You loved the book, but part of your confused mind knew that you shouldn’t like him reading it, or the fact that your cat was curled up on his lap.

Your cat was always shy, friendly enough that he would never hiss, scratch, or bite without a serious reason for it. He was easily spooked by strangers, always dashing away when they towered over him and reached down to pet him. He preferred watching them really, gazing down from atop the cabinets, or from across the room. When strangers were over sometimes you couldn’t even convince him to let you hold him he was so scared. Yet seeing him there on his lap, in this unfamiliar place pissed you off.

“Where am I?”

“Home, doesn’t matter where.” He didn’t look up, he scratched under your cat's chin.

“Bullshit. Why the hell am I here?” You pushed yourself up, hovering over the side of the bed, as if you could somehow intimidate him.

“I brought you home.”

You jumped up, the sheets and blankets falling like water across the floor. They followed your movements like an afterimage, leaving a trail in your wake. You grabbed his wrists forcing the damned book from his hands, letting it fall to your feet. The cat looked up at you, wide eyes, and his ears straight up in the air.

“What do you want?” It was despairing, a whisper and a plea.

You were so tired yet, exhausted by the weight of your emotions and the stress of it all. Your grip was pathetic at best, but it was desperate. Some last attempt at consoling, a final prayer for comfort, as you fell to your knees, and rested your head on the cat's stomach. You still held his wrists but now there was no fight, just proof that he was there and that it was his doing.

“You,” he said, the answer to your question that you already knew. His hand fell to your head, his fingers massaging your scalp, “I want you to paint for me.”

“Is that why?”

“Yes, and more.”

Your arms fell to your sides and you looked up at him, and his hands moved to your cheeks, pinning you gently in place so he could study your face.

“Others won't hurt you, they like you. You grow to like them too.”

You gripped his sleeve, as you fought back another sob, leaning forward so your nose was inches above his knees. The sob jumped in your chest and bounced around, but you never wailed, only gasped as he moved to hold your hand.