#i have a week of work woe ahead of me

[writingreadinglurkingandsmirking]

Hold Me Down (Is This A New Start?) - Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: After a long, hard day of work you just want to go home and go to bed. But, when you get a persistent knock on your door from Rafe fucking Cameron. you know you’re gonna have a long night ahead. Letting him in, after two months of not seeing him, you fully anticipated a screaming match. But, you got something much different than you bargained for—much better too.

CW/TWs: brief angst, brief mentions of Rafe being on house arrest lol, feminine pronouns used, gorgeous/sweet girl/baby/darlin' as nicknames, toxic behavior, canon-adjacent Rafe, mean-ish Rafe, smut, piv sex, oral sex (male receiving), impact play, (not really) lowkey daddy kink, brat reader, dumbification, degradation kink, praise kink, overstimulation, breath play, unprotected sex (be safe I am nawt your mom gn), allusions to a pain kink for sure, mushy gushy sweet ending, not highly edited or reviewed

Words: 8.1k+

Note: 18+ MDNI, really just fucking don’t. I wrote this one in first person because writing in second person irritates my very soul. Uhhhh so this kinda came out of left field and I did nawt plan on writing this but here we are! But such is life! Anyways…back to regularly scheduled programming.

It had been a long day - too long. There was something exceedingly exhausting about living paycheck to paycheck that the average person didn’t understand. There was nothing quite as specific as the exhaustion that you encountered by overworking yourself day after day, week after week, month after month, all for nothing. Because that’s what this all amounted to. Nothing. Nothing extra at the end of the week to take home, nothing to do anything nice with. Just nothing. And nothing sucked the joy out of your day like knowing you’d have to get up the next day and do it all over again.

When I’d finally gotten home from a shift that didn’t end until almost the crack of fucking dawn - a good twelve hours after I was supposed to have gotten off shift - there was not a thing I wanted more than to sleep. Still, even as I sat on my fucking couch, my woes could not end. There was a loud, demanding knock on the door.

The first time I ignored it.

The second time I ignored it.

The third time, an annoyed voice accompanied the knock.

“Baby, open the fucking door,” came the snarl from the other side. I groaned and ran my hands down my face. I really didn’t want to deal with Rafe today. Not like that had ever deterred him before. “Baby, come on. Listen. Please. The cops are fucking trolling around outside. Baby, please open the door.”

I groaned and pulled myself to my feet, opening the apartment door. Standing there, looking at pitiful as ever was Rafe fucking Cameron. The bane of my existence. My more-or-less on-again-off-again boyfriend—though I’d sooner bash my head against the door than admit that. I glared at the ass who had done nothing but make my life harder since he’d entered it. Then, I stepped to the side and let him in. He stepped in and closed the door quickly, locking it behind him. He turned to me and pressed an absent-minded kiss to my forehead before going to sit down on the couch.

“You look like shit, darlin’,” he said. When he even had the decency to look up and notice I was there.

“Thanks,” I said dryly. I looked down at his leg. His ankle monitor looked fucked. “What the fuck did you do this time?”

“Just a little mod,” he said casually. “I needed to get out for a minute.”

“Why did you come here?” I demanded. “Did you stash more fucking coke in my house I swear to fucking God I will kill you. I am not catching a fucking charge for you, asshole.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why would I leave my coke with you knowing that you’d throw it out, baby? That’s just bad business. Besides, darlin’ the cops aren’t outside for me some loser is probably getting caught selling a few doors down again. And hey? It’s a crime to want to see you now, darlin’?” he asked, winking.

“No. But it is a crime to skip out on house arrest, Rafe,” I said blandly. “And I know damn well that you’re not here because you want to see me. I’m just convenient to you like fucking always.”

He rolled his eyes as if I were being the dramatic one. “What’s wrong now, gorgeous?” he drawled. “Always seems like there’s something these days, hmm?”

I clenched my jaw. “Fuck you, Rafe. Get the hell out,” I snapped.

Rafe frowned. Stood again and walked over to me. He placed his hands on my hips, refusing to leave. I, in turn, refused to look at him. “Look at me, darlin’,” he demanded. Reluctantly I did. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t answer. He brushed my hair back from my face and just kept looking at me. “Come on, sweet girl. Tell me…what’s wrong.” He smiled to himself when I still didn’t answer. “You know better than anyone I’m not going to leave until you tell me, baby…so come on…what’s wrong with my sweet girl?”

“Fuck you,” I repeated weakly, pulling out of his arms. I plopped down on my couch, curling into myself and closing my eyes. “Just fucking leave when you see the cops are gone. I can’t be bothered today.” The asshole had the audacity to laugh at my words. “Shut the fuck up, Rafe.”

Dramatically, Rafe sighed and knelt down on the ground in front of me. I felt him grab my knees and pull me to face him. I had no choice but to unfurl, otherwise, I would’ve fallen into him, which I had no interest in doing. So, I leaned back into the couch, trying to ignore the heat of his hand sinking into my cold legs through worn jeans. It was hard to ignore that. Hard to ignore any of him, really. And he knew that. That’s why he only waited through my stubborn silence for a few minutes.

“Come on, baby,” he hummed. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’m sorry I’m a dick, darlin’…you know I care.”

I laughed weakly, eyes still closed. “No. No, you don’t,” I said flatly.

He ignored my words and kept rubbing my legs. “It’s so fucking cold in here, baby,” he commented. “And your legs are freezing. Your heat not working?”

“No, it's working. It’s just too fucking expensive to heat this shitty goddamn apartment and I’m not forking over more money to the cunt landlord,” I said sharply, glaring at him. “Did you suddenly forget what life is like if—” I cut myself off, shaking my head.

He had the audacity to glare back if you could believe it. Then, he slapped my inner thigh. “I told you to call me if you needed help,” he hissed. He slapped my other thigh. “The fuck are you doing? What game are you playing at, baby?”

I pushed him away from me with my foot. “A game where I don’t need to rely on a man who is a fucking wannabe felon,” I snapped.

He rolled his eyes and got to his feet. “Newsflash, baby, you do need me,” he said, sounding way too smug about it.

“Fuck you, Rafe. I need a bullet to the brain more than I need you,” I sneered.

“That’s cute.” He continued on like I didn’t even speak in the first place. “I could give you that, if you want. But that doesn’t change anything about it, darlin’. You need my money, you need my cock, you need my love. You’ve said it yourself that no one gives it to you as good as I do. And I know you haven’t been looking which means you’re still as invested in this as I am. So.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. “When I tell you if you need my fucking money to heat your stupid apartment because your ass is too stubborn to move in with me…then you fucking call me.”

“You are not my fucking father,” I snapped, pulling out of his tough.. “Like I said. Bullet to the fucking brain before this shit anymore. I’m sick of it.”

“I don’t know. You do call me daddy a lot,” he mocked. He smiled down at me, but there was hardly any warmth to it. “But, oh? You’re so sick of it, hmm? You want to be brainless?” He laughed. “Well, I can make you brainless without having to put a hole in your pretty little head.” He wound his hand tightly in my hair, pulling my face towards his while I sharply inhaled. “And you’ll remember exactly why you’re not done with me, gorgeous.”

I glared at him. “I haven’t seen you in two months. The last time I did see you, you called me a stupid, worthless cunt and told me that you never wanted to see me again. And you think you can just show up here and get me to listen to you?” I demanded. I felt my face heating with my frustration. “Just like that? You think you’re…you think you’re worth me listening to?” I laughed. “Like I said. Fuck you, Rafe. I deserve…I deserve so much better than this. Than you.”

There was a mocking pout on his face. He reached out and grabbed my face again, squeezing my chin. “You think you’re going to find someone better than me?” he asked incredulously. He let out a laugh. “And where do you think you’ll find someone like that?” I didn’t answer. I refused to give him the satisfaction. He chuckled, but then his face went serious. “I’m sorry that I haven’t seen you in months, darlin’. I’m sorry that I said I never wanted to see you again. I was pissed, sweet girl. I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh you never mean it,” I said, the sarcasm’s impact dampened by the tearful sound of my voice.

He moved his hand from my chin to cup my face. I hated myself for it, but I did lean into the touch. “Come on, sweet girl…don’t be like that, baby,” he said. He leaned forward and dropped a kiss to the side of my neck. “You know that I love you.” Another kiss, followed by a short nip. “I’ve been busy, darlin’. That’s all. I’m sorry. I should’ve called, sweet girl. I know that. I’m not mad.”

“You were mad,” I accused, glaring at him.

“I was mad, baby,” he said, deceptively calm. “I was…frustrated that you wouldn’t let me take care of you. I just want what’s best for you. But I’m not mad anymore.”

“Well maybe I’m mad at you,” I retorted, harshness still lessened by the teary voice and the way I leaned into him.

“That’s okay,” he practically cooed. He pressed another kiss to my neck then moved so we were face to face, just a breath between us. He smirked, eyes drifting down to my lips and then back up. “You can be mad at me as long as you want, sweet girl. Just as long as you tell me that you love me.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. “No,” I said stubbornly.

“Come on, sweet girl, please,” Rafe purred, stroking my neck with his hand lazily. “I love you, darlin’.”

“I love you,” I said, voice breaking. My eyes popped open and I felt the tears in them.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t waver, but his eyes did soften. He let out a hum and wiped a tear that slipped. “There’s my sweet girl,” he cooed. He leaned forward and pressed a long, languid kiss to my lips. “Let me make it up to you, baby.” Another long kiss—lazier this time. “Let me apologize for calling you names, baby.” Another kiss. “Remind you that you’re my special, sweet girl.”

I huffed. “Oh so you wanna fuck me and suddenly I’m not a stupid, worthless cunt then?” I spat, voice dripping insecurity.

Rafe rolled his eyes so hard I was shocked that his eyes didn’t stick in the back of his head. “You’re not a stupid, worthless cunt. You’re my sweet girl and you know it,” he drawled. “I was a little fucking high when I said that. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

I gave him a withering glare. “Oh and you’re not high now?” I asked even though I could already tell he wasn’t. He gave me a flat look and I deflated, leaning back, covering my face as I leaned against the arm of the couch. I sniffled. “Okay, I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I didn’t mean it.”

He chuckled dryly and rubbed my leg gently. “It’d be fair if you did,” he drawled. He squeezed my leg. “And it’s fine that it’s not fair, sweet girl. I wasn’t fair. So.” He grabbed my legs and lowered them both to the floor. He gently pried my legs open leaning further into my space, hands dancing up both my thighs now. “How about I be real nice and make it up to you?”

“No,” I said stubbornly, glaring half-heartedly down at him. I felt his hand toy with the waist of my jeans, dancing just over the button. “I don’t want you to.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, unconvinced considering I’d begun to lean into his space more, opening my legs to give him more space to occupy, more space to get closer. “Oh?” he posed, tone almost mocking. “You don’t want to?”

“No,” I corrected, grabbing his hand, putting it back on my hair to silently prompt him to grab it just as he did before. “I don’t want you to be nice.” I glowered at him .”It’s been two months, Rafe. I need…”

He let out a low chuckle, eyes dark with quickly emerging lust. “Fuck, darlin’, tell me…what do you need?” he asked.

I blinked slowly, still looking right into his eyes, intoxicated by him already from such a short time together. “I need you to take care of me like you always do,” I said quietly.

Immediately, his hand wound tightly through my hair and he rose to his feet, forcing me to tilt my head up. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as I looked up at him, my eyes wide and wanting. I bit my lip, eyes trailing slowly down his body, to his belt at my eye level, and then back up. He chuckled again, grinning down at me. He wound his hand a bit tighter in my hair making me let out a squeak as he dragged me just a bit closer to his body.

“You need me to take care of you?” he posed, tone just shy of mocking. “Need me to help turn off that gorgeous fucking brain of yours, baby?” He used his free hand to trail down my cheek, fingers briefly touching my neck and stopping there. “Need me to fuck you stupid, sweet girl?”

Taking a shaky breath, I reached out, hand loosely holding his belt buckle. “Yes,” I said breathlessly.

I reveled in the sudden, sharp sting in my cheek. “Try again,” he warned, voice raspy.

“Yes…please fuck me stupid, daddy,” I said, batting my eyes up at him. “I don’t wanna think anymore.”

“Fuck,” Rafe muttered, his voice raspier still, thick with lust. He chuckled and loosened his hand in my hair before dropping it. He took his shirt off and then knotted a hand back in my hair. “Okay, baby. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of my sweet girl.” He stroked my cheek gently with his free hand before moving it to his belt buckle and undoing it with ease. He then smirked down at me, inclining his head. “Well? Take me out, darlin’.” I glanced down at his open belt but he tutted, tilting my chin back up. “No, baby. Keep your eyes on me.” His request was one that was most easy for me to accommodate considering I felt like I’d die if I looked away from him.

My hands trembled as I reached forward, taking the belt off of him. I was ready to throw it to the side but Rafe held out a hand. Without even questioning it, I placed it in his hand. He then set it to the side and gestured with his head at me to continue. Which, I happily did. I heard him let out a quiet chuckle as I undid the button on his pants and brought down the zipper without breaking eye contact. I almost hastily pulled down the fabric until it sagged the rest of the way down. I raised my eyebrows at Rafe in a silent plea.

“What, baby?” he asked, amused, tightening his grip on my hair. I let out a weak whine and pouted. “What? You gotta tell me what you want, sweet girl. Use your words.”

“I wanna see your cock,” I responded, hooking my hand on the hem of the waistband of his boxers. I tilted my head to the side, jutting my bottom lip out further. “Please, daddy.”

He let out a dark chuckle. “Okay, baby,” he drawled. I hummed, pleased with myself, and looked down, prepared to take his boxers off. But, he tutted, turning my head up with his grip on my hair so I’d meet his eyes again. “Nuh, uh, darlin’. Keep those gorgeous eyes on me still. Don’t you dare even think about looking at my cock yet, baby. Just get it out.”

“But—” I began to complain before being silenced with another warning slap on the cheek making me whine and pull back slightly; not that Rafe let me get very far.

“No but, baby. You listen to me. Be a good girl,” Rafe warned, tone darkening. “You know I want what’s best for you, right, sweet girl?” I nodded through teary eyes, looking back up at him. He cursed under his breath at the sight, tightening and then loosening his hand in my hair once more. “Good girl, baby. Such a good fucking girl. Now, get my cock out. And don’t even look at it.”

I shivered at the order but complied. I reached and used two fingers to gently drag the fabric of the boxers down until they too gave way, falling down past his knees. Using every bit of restraint I had, I kept my eyes locked on his, refusing to look at his dick even as it hung directly in front of my face. Rafe hummed, his free hand moving from his side to wrap around himself, pumping lazily. I swallowed, biting my tongue as a reminder to keep my eyes up. A mocking laugh fell from Rafe’s mouth at the sight and I felt my stomach tighten.

“Oh there’s my good girl,” he cooed. “She can finally fucking listen, huh? So proud of you baby. Little slut that you are, I didn't think you’d be able to do it.” I let out a tiny whimper at his words, feeling a growing, heated pit of arousal low in my stomach. I shifted slightly, just barely able to keep my eyes from falling down. He chuckled again and pursed his lips. “How about you take your clothes off for me baby? Then I’ll let you look all you want at your favorite part of me.”

“All my clothes, daddy?” I checked. He nodded. I all but raced myself to do so. I whipped off the shirt I had on with ease and shimmied out of my jeans easily enough. Sitting there in my bra and panties, Rafe told me to stop and so I paused, looking up at him. “Yes, daddy?”

“Nothing, darlin’…just wanna look at you a minute,” he said, eyes dark with lust. “So fucking pretty, baby. God on fucking high, can’t imagine what I did to deserve such a blessing.”

“Stop,” I dismissed, blushing.

“Nah, baby. You’re a fucking twelve-course meal and I plan to have all of ‘em,” he dismissed, stepping closer and grabbing my chin. “And you aren’t gonna say some dumb shit like that again. We clear, baby?”

“Yes, daddy,” I murmured, feeling his thumb ghost up to trace my bottom lip. My breath hitched in my throat and he seemed to remember himself.

He pulled away and smirked down at me. “Bra and panties off. Let me see that pretty pussy, darlin’. Been missing it so much while I was gone,” he purred. I shivered at his words but peeled them off, shivering at the cold feeling of the air against my nipples and the cool fabric of the couch against my exposed core, quickly growing wet. “Fuck you’re so pretty. Look at you…all this…just for me.” He came closer again—even more this time—and his hand loosely went around my jaw, jerking my head up. “You are just for me, aren’t you baby?” I nodded immediately. He glared, his voice gruffer. “Words, darlin’. Or I might not be inclined to be too nice to you.”

“Yes, daddy,” I said breathlessly, wide-eyed. “All yours. Just for you.” I felt my heart beating rapidly in anticipation of seeing Rafe smile down at me. “Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?” he asked, hand still hooked around my jaw.

“Can I look please?” I asked sweetly, pouting up at him.

His lips quirked into a smirk and he narrowed his eyes looking at me, appraising. “I don’t know, baby. You think I should let you?” he asked.

“Please,” I said, pouting. “I just wan’ you. Want to see you. Wanna have you.”

“Awe with my sweet girl saying all that, well how could I say no?” he drawled, removing his hand from my neck to trail back and join the other in my hair. “Go ahead and look, darlin’. Take as long as you’d like.”

Ever so slowly, I broke my eye contact with Rafe, trailing my gaze down to his dick. Rafe’s confidence even as he stood bare as the day he was born was one of the things that had initially attracted me to him. But, looking at him now, lazily pumping his hand over his cock while he smirked down at me? I don’t think that I’d ever been quite so down bad for him. Which was…concerning, maybe? Pathetic, perhaps? But I didn’t care. At that moment, with his long, thick dick just hovering right in front of me, all I could think about was how badly I wanted him. Of how long I’d wanted him…of how long I’d waited.

“What? I don’t even gotta fuck you to turn that pretty brain off anymore?” he said, voice an alluring growl as he let out a dark sort of chuckle. “Got you so trained to take my dick you don’t even try to fight it, do you sweet girl?”

I shifted at his words, suddenly feeling my core flutter at his words, clenching regrettably—miserably—around nothing. His smirk increased tenfold at that and he stepped closer so that there was practically no space between us, not that there had been much before. Now, his cock stood proudly just next to my face. Again, ever so slowly I raised my eyes to meet his again. And the desperation must’ve been clear in my gaze if the smug, self-satisfied look in his were anything to go by.

“And this was supposed to be for you,” he hummed. “My dumb little baby won’t be able to think for herself and tell me what she wants when I get started, will she?” I let out a pathetic little whimper. “You just need something in that sweet little pussy and your perfect mouth, huh?” His eyes trailed down to my lips, briefly displaying the heated desire he was feeling before moving to meet mine again. “Tell me one thing, darlin’, okay? Think your cute lil’ brain can take that?”

“Yes, daddy,” I said, voice coming out breathy. I squirmed slightly, squeezing my thighs together to avoid doing something like grinding on the couch and making him stop this before it even started.

“I don’t have too much patience before I gotta get in that tight fucking cunt, gorgeous,” he drawled. “So…tell me. You want me to eat that pretty pussy? Or do you want to choke on my cock?” He grinned, sharp-edged and shark-like. “It’s up to you.” An aborted moan came out of me at his words. The answer for me, right now, at least, was obvious. I glanced down at his dick and then back up. “Nuh uh, darlin’. You tell me which one you want.”

“I want you to fuck my throat,” I whined, looking up at him wide-eyed.

Rafe chuckled, hands tightening in my hair. “I’ll give you a pass on not addressing me properly this once because you said something so sweet, darlin’. But don’t do it again,” he said, half-mocking, half-warning. I nodded eagerly. One hand released my hair. He pat my cheek and then held my jaw tightly between two fingers. “That’s my girl.” The possessiveness dripped off his tone. “Now be good for daddy and open that fucking mouth.”

My mouth fell open without much thought after that. He grinned as I left it open, tongue sticking out just the way he liked it. His thumb pressed down on my tongue, head tilting slightly to the side as he looked at me. I moaned at even that simple feeling, my body practically trembling with want for him. But, for a good few long moments, that’s all he did, slowly pressing his thumb more against my tongue. But, after a few moments, he drew it away, using his free hand to lazily pump his cock—still only half-hard—in his hand. I inhaled shakily, eyes looking at his heavy cock, knowing the weight and feel of it without even touching it.

“Mmm,” Rafe said, letting out a leisurely sigh as he jerked himself off in front of me. “You want my dick, sweet girl?” I nodded eagerly, tongue still shamelessly hanging out of my mouth. “You want me to make you choke on my fucking cock, baby?” Again, I nodded and he groaned. “You’re so fucking sexy, darlin’, fuck.” I watched with rapt attention as a bead of pre-cum leaked from the tip of his dick. I heard Rafe chuckle not a moment later. “Holy shit are you drooling, baby? Fuck, you really want this dick, huh? Well, I don’t wanna leave you wanting.”

Rafe used the hand in my hair to bring my head closer and anchor it in place. His other hand still held his dick that he was bringing towards my awaiting mouth. The second I felt the tip of his dick touch my tongue I groaned in appreciation at finally having something, feeling myself growing wetter and wanting. Already, with him not even having touched me yet, I was a mess. Rafe knew it damn well too. He chuckled, slapping his dick against my tongue making me inhale sharply then let out a tiny little whimper.

“Should I stop teasing you baby?” he said, voice measured, even, and entirely unaffected—as if he were in a business meeting and not getting ready to ruin my throat. “Should I make sure you lose your voice tomorrow now?” I nodded as best I could while ensuring that his dick did not fall from my tongue which just made him let out another low groan. “Alright, then, baby. You asked for it. Time for you to put that fucking mouth to work.”

I barely had the time to inhale before I felt Rafe’s heavy member settling against my tongue. I let out a breathy moan, reflexively hollowing out my cheeks and bobbing my head to take him further into my mouth. I moved my hands to touch him and he slapped them away.

“No fucking hands,” he grunted, pulling my hair so I’d look up at him before pushing me down to the hilt of him, nose settling against his pelvis. He cursed and I felt his dick pulse in my mouth as he looked down at me, eyes dark and wanting. “So fucking pretty when I’m stretching your fucking mouth open, baby. Look at you. So fucking good.” My core fluttered again at his words, clenching and unclenching while I felt myself starting to dampen the couch slightly the wetter I got. “Gonna fuck your throat now, darlin’.”

With the minimal warning issued, he thrust heavily, pulling out of my mouth almost entirely before thrusting entirely back in. I forced myself to breathe through my nose, relaxing before something unfortunate could happen like my gag reflex being triggered. I moaned around him, using my tongue as little as I could find myself able to when he started to consistently, aggressively thrust himself to the back of my throat. I whimpered at the feeling, grinding absent-mindedly against the rough fabric of the couch, letting my tongue trace along the vein on the underside of his dick.

Rafe caught sight of my desperate rutting against the couch and he let out a dark, slightly breathless chuckle without interrupting the pace of his thrusting. “God, look at my desperate fucking baby. What, is daddy not taking care of you fast enough? Fuck,” he grunted. “You wanna grind like a desperate, needy, brainless little toy? I should make you fucking get off of my thigh without me touching you?” My choked whine of displeasure at the threat made him let out another mean sort of laugh. “Don’t worry, darlin’. That’s gonna be for later.” I let out another whine at the promise then. “Yeah, baby. Gonna make you get yourself off on my leg and then I’m gonna eat your pussy so good. Gonna make you cum for me at least five times before I stop. I’ll fucking tie you up if I gotta, gorgeous. Gonna make my sweet girl so overstimulated she’s not gonna think ‘bout anything but my fucking cock…my fucking mouth…my fucking hands.” Each word was punctuated by a pointed thrust down my throat. “As if you think about anything else, my dumb little fuckin’ baby, yeah?”

When he pulled out of my mouth entirely, releasing my hair, I reflexively gasped in a breath of air, eyes wide and watering. I looked up at him. But, Rafe was still non-plussed by how fucked out I already was. He wasn’t even pausing, barely breaking even a bead of sweat across his gorgeous, obscenely perfect body. No, instead, he knelt down in front of me, one hand making its way immediately to my pussy and finding my clit like two ends of a magnet attracting to each other. He let out a low tutting sound, shaking his head at me as I bucked my hips against his hand before I could stop myself.

“So fucking sloppy, pretty girl. Is this all for me?” he asked, his voice both teasing and harsh. “Barely even done anything to you, baby. You’re just that much of a needy little fuckin’ slut for me, huh?” I let out a high-pitched keening noise and he hummed, wrapping his hand around my throat to make me focus on him even as he slipped two thick digits inside of me. “You want me, baby?” His voice was husky, rasping and his alluring eyes were locked intently on me.

“Yes, daddy,” I whined, voice weak around the whining and moans that I couldn’t help but release as he finger fucked me into oblivion. Even with so little direct stimulation, I felt my legs starting to tremble and my stomach starting to tighten, coiling and ready to barrel quickly towards release. Rafe could tell too based on the way my pussy was practically trying to swallow his fingers whole. “Please.”

“Please what, sweet girl?” he cooed, pretending like he didn’t already know damn well what I wanted.

“Fuck me,” I begged.

“Oh but you sound so pretty when you’re whining, gorgeous,” he groaned. “And I need you to be nice and fuckin’ ready for me. So I need you to cum for me before I fuck you.” My stomach tightened further just on the edge of sweet, sweet release that I’d been missing the past two months while he was missing on fucking house arrest. “Okay, baby?”

“Okay,” I sobbed, hips trying to buck even as he used his massive hand to direct my hips to keep the rhythm he wanted, the other tightening around the outside of my throat, making my eyes roll.

“Good girl,” he huffed. He paused his speech a moment, his fingers moving even faster, making me choke out a sobbing moan, head falling back until he squeezed my throat again in warning, making me lift my head. He then issued a command. A single word. “Cum.”

And who was I to disobey?

The coil in my stomach exploded into a mirage of light behind my eyes as they rolled back. I felt a slightly shrill shriek erupt from my mouth more than I actually heard myself. And all that I could think of beyond the veil and haze of pleasure was the feeling of Rafe’s hands, his skin so close to me. He supported my body as I slumped against him, both of his hands moving to rest low on my hips.

“Good job, gorgeous. You look so fucking pretty falling apart for me,” he encouraged, his voice an appreciative, warm grumble of affection. His hands ghosted up and down my sides. “You ready for me to fuck you, pretty little thing?”

“Yes, daddy,” I said, letting out a long, shaky sigh. I reached out, hands trailing up the planes of his solid chest, leaning my head on him to listen to his steady, calm heartbeat. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Of course, baby,” he said. I could hear the smugness in his voice but I didn’t care. He leaned me back on the couch and moved to get up. I let out a whine of dissatisfaction and grabbed his hand tightly, pulling him back towards me. He looked amused as he raised a brow. “I have to go get a condom, sweet girl.”

“No,” I said stubbornly.

“No?” he asked.

“Have you been fucking bitches on house arrest?” I asked, bottom lip jutting out.

He reached out, pulling my lip down and looking at it in undisguised intrigue. “No,” he admitted.

“Well, then you haven’t worn a condom with me before. So fuck’s sake, Rafe just fuck me,” I demanded.

Rafe’s eyes had a hardened sort of glee to them. His hand moved before I registered it and my head turned as his palm made contact with my cheek. Again, my core clenched around nothing. This time, I bit back the moan that threatened to escape.

“Who?” he warned, sounding all too happy to remind me of my place.

“Fuck me, daddy,” I reiterated, still with an extreme attitude. “Fuck me, don’t pull out cum in me, I don’t care. Just fuck me, daddy.”

“Drop the attitude,” Rafe said, a final warning.

“No,” I spat, knowing exactly where it would get me. You know, right where I wanted.

Instead of slapping me again as I’d first expected, Rafe tilted my head up with just his pointer finger under my chin, his shark-like smile back again. “Do you want to be punished, baby?” he asked, sounding all too eager. I offered no answer. He used his free hand and slapped me, harder this time. I couldn’t bite back the moan this time, or the way that my hand tried to drift between my legs. He caught my wrist easily to stop me. “Answer me or I’m gonna stop. I’ll walk out the fucking door, darlin’.” My bottom lip quivered at the thought, chest heaving. “Do you want a punishment, baby?”

“Y-yes, daddy,” I admitted after another stubborn moment.

“Well why didn’t you say so, darlin’,” he cooed sarcastically.

In a flurry of movement, Rafe sat on the couch and had me over his knee. My bare, soaked cunt made contact with his hard knee and I choked on a moan at that feeling. I barely had time to register the change in position before he landed his first hit on my ass. I yelped at the feeling, reflexively trying to squirm away from the pain, even as I felt a jolt of pleasure at the feeling. Rafe held my hips in place easily with one hand, keeping me firmly on his lap, and used the other to lay a hard slap against my ass, making me yelp again.

“That feel fucking good baby?” he grunted, slapping me again. I didn’t answer, a sharp, hissing inhale coming from my mouth. Another slap. Another whimper. “You should be fucking thanking me for this, darlin’. Disciplining your unruly fucking ass. Making you my good girl.”

“Thank you, daddy. Thank you, thank you. Please,” I whimpered, reflexively trying to squirm once more when his hand made contact with my ass yet again.

“Please, what, sweet girl? Remind you that you’re fucking mine? Oh, I am gonna, darlin’. This is just part of it,” he ground out. I could feel his rock-hard cock pressed against my side and I was torn between wanting it stuffed in my mouth and my pussy. Both thoughts escaped from my mind entirely as he landed another slap against my ass.

“More,” I ground out through clenched teeth, barely able to resist the urge to grind against his thigh and knee with the desperation that I was feeling.

“Needy little slut, you are, huh?” he asked, amused. His hands stopped their cyclical pattern of slapping my ass to rub the abused flesh for a moment. I felt his hand move between my legs more, teasing my entrance with his fingers. Naturally, I opened my legs for him. He chuckled at that. “Can’t wait to be stuffed with me, can you? Already brain dead to everything but me, aren’t you, sweet girl? You’re just my little plaything right now, aren’t you?” I buried my face in the couch and let out a groan, feeling his hand circling my clit again, lazily, not creating enough friction to do anything.

“Daddy, please,” I whined.

“Don’t worry, pretty little thing. I know just what you need to cum again. I decided I need two from you before I fuck this sweet little fucking pussy,” he grunted. With sudden and almost startling accuracy, Rafe slapped me again. This time, his hand made contact not with my ass but with my pussy, the sharp slap making me gasp and jerk from the pain. I let out a half-aborted scream and rocked back into his palm, panting from surprise. He openly laughed. “You didn’t think I forgot how much you liked that, did you, darlin’? Remember that real fucking well? So I’m gonna take care of this pussy just the way I know you need it.” I let out a breathy moan mixed with a cry as he spanked my clit once more. Again and again and again he did it until I felt like I was dripping sweat on my whole body and my pussy was soaked with my juices—the couch too for that matter. “Fuck me, baby, your pussy is so pretty all puffy like this. She’s just crying for me. You want me so bad your poor fucking brain can’t handle it, can it?” I let out a pathetic little whimper, unable to muster much more. “I tell you what, darlin’. You cum from me slapping this pussy and I’ll fuck you til you pass out if that’s what you want. You wanna do that for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I gasped immediately, hardly even grasping the words just knowing that I wanted the pleasure that had been slowly building to finally reach its fucking crescendo.

“Good girl,” he said before unleashing a series of slaps to my pussy in a pattern that I couldn’t have anticipated if I were in his damn brain myself.

This time, as I tumbled over the edge of pleasure, I wailed, jerking against his hand. I collapsed against Rafe’s leg as the aftershock of the second orgasm washed over me. I gasped for air like I’d been drowning and I felt Rafe’s hand tracing up and down my back lazily. As I caught my breath, he placed a final sharp slap to my pussy making me let out a weak yelp of complaint. Without being too gentle, Rafe maneuvered me off of his lap and over the arm of the couch. He let out an appreciative groan and I lifted my head to look back at him. I was startled to see him lifting the belt. My eyes widened as I felt him wrap it around my wrists, quickly binding me.

“You’re not getting away from me, gorgeous. Not when I finally get to fuck my pussy again. You’re nice and ready for me,” he said, sounding almost absent-minded as he spoke to me. He grunted as he slid into me with a single thrust. When he bottomed out we both let out moans—his low and mine high and keening—and I felt my body shake. “Fuck. When you can feel your legs I’m gonna fuck you so hard in doggy you’re gonna not walk the day after. But right now I just gotta finish the job, baby. Gotta turn your fuckin’ brain off forever.”

With that, he started to purposefully piston his hips, holding my bound wrists behind my back for better leverage. I was nearly boneless, shrieking in pleasure as his hot, throbbing cock stretched me open and brushed against each and every nerve ending just right—at least that was how it felt. How he felt. His thrusts were deep and slow and pointed. I sobbed against the feeling, wanting to rut back into him to make him speed up. But, I couldn’t muster the strength. So I just let him fuck into me at his own pace and I felt myself starting to build towards another bout of pleasure—this bound to be even stronger than before if the stars already behind my eyes were anything to go by.

“Daddy, please,” I sobbed, not knowing if I wanted more or less stimulation, more or less pleasure, from him.

Regardless of what I wanted, Rafe didn’t say anything. He grunted out a noise of acknowledgment that I’d spoken then doubled down in his efforts to make me cum again. And when he wrapped his arm around my throat again, tightening quickly and entirely, it was over. This time, as he forced me to a third orgasm, I was actually sobbing, tears running down my face from the fucked up amount of pain and pleasure entwined in being so overstimulated in such a short period of time—especially after so long away from him.

“There’s my good fucking girl,” Rafe said, voice slightly hoarse as he slowed his thrusts to a stop.

He still hadn’t cum himself, his dick fully pulsing inside of me with how hard he was. I dreaded what that meant, even though I also fully anticipated what I knew would come. He gently undid the belt from around my wrists, releasing me, and then eased himself out of me. He flipped me around on the couch and I looked at him with big watery eyes.

“Please no more,” I said, tears slipping down my cheeks. “It’s too much, please.”

“Come on, darlin’,” he cooed, pressing kisses to my cheeks. “Come on, sweet girl. You can give me one more. Been missing my pussy so much. You know I need one more from her.” Another series of kisses, the last one a long and lingering, filthy one to my lips where his tongue entwined with mine and we both pulled back needing air. “Please, baby. One more for me.”

His hand moved down, gently tracing my clit, making me jolt. Already I was so sensitive, so overstimulated. But, the impossibly sweet and imploring look on his face? The hunger he had for me? It was impossible to deny.

“Okay, daddy,” I agreed, sniffling.

He leaned his forehead against mine, grinning. “That’s my girl,” he said softly.

He hitched my leg up over his hip, settling between my legs on the couch. He used his free hand to grip his cock, looking down at us. He gently slapped the head of his dick against my clit once, twice, a third time until I whined and he chuckled, reaching over to press a short kiss to my lips to shut me up. He ran himself up and down my slit over and over until I was shivering and he saw a tiny dribble of new arousal dripping from me. He let out a low moan of his own and then sank into me in one, hitching my leg up again so he could thrust as deep as humanly possible.

“There you are, gorgeous. There’s my beautiful fucking girl,” Rafe praised, pressing a kiss to each cheek, to my lips, and to my forehead as he steadily thrust into me. “So fucking perfect for me. So fucking good for me, baby.”

“You feel so good, daddy,” I said, eyes rolling back and then curling as he pressed down on the slight bulge in my stomach only present because of him. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Anything for you, baby. Fucking anything,” he grunted. He ground slower against me instead of thrusting for a few moments. “You don’t get to keep me from my pussy anymore, baby. I gotta fucking be with you.”

“Wanna be with you, daddy,” I babbled in agreement.

“Good fucking girl,” he huffed, pressing down on the bulge again making me whimper. I felt his dick pulsate again and I tightened around him habitually making his breath hitch. “You gonna cum for me one more time, baby? I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah, daddy, I’m gonna cum,” I whined. “Please can I cum? Please, please, please?” I begged.

“Fu-fuck yeah,” Rafe stuttered. “Cum with me baby.”

And this time, as I fell across pleasure’s razor edge once more, Rafe fell with me. I felt as he came inside me, hot and deep. My eyes rolled at the feeling, almost addicted to the mere feeling of him being so close and intensely part of me at that moment. I held him without realizing it, nails digging into the skin of his back as I held him against me, ignoring the fact that I was trembling like a leaf.

“So proud of you, my sweet girl. So good for me, gorgeous. Love you so much. So good for me.” Those were the first things I was coherent of hearing again when the whooshing in my ears had faded. They were the sweet praise that Rafe was offering. He went to move—to pull out—but I held him to me still, almost wrapping myself around him like a koala to stop it.

“No,” I denied. “Don’t move yet.”

“Okay, baby,” he agreed. “I won’t pull out. Do you want me to hold you?” I nodded. He carefully moved us. I winced as he adjusted us so that I was sitting up and in his lap because it made him deeper for a moment still but as we settled that faded and I just melted into his chest. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You did so good.” He stroked my skin and hair for a moment. “I gotta get you cleaned up, sweet girl. Get you some water.”

“Not yet,” I denied again, eyes closed as I leaned against him, as much of my skin touching him as possible. “Take care of me in a minute.”

He chuckled. “Oh? You’re gonna let me take care of you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered absent-mindedly. “Fine. You can take care of me, Rafe. I’ll stop being stubborn.” I needed his help. He’d been right about that when he showed up, I was adult enough to admit that. And I knew that he loved me. That he meant it from the best place.

“Really?” he asked, disbelieving. “You’re gonna move in with me? Let me take care of you? Just like that? All I had to do was fuck you like that?”

“Yeah. That’s all you had to do,” I agreed, far too exhausted to explain the complex detail of it in truth. I let out a breathless laugh though, a thought occurring to me when I felt a cool bite of metal and plastic on my leg. “Well, as long as you don’t get arrested for busting out of house arrest.” I cracked open my eyes to give him a smile.

“Shut up, I'll be fine,” he muttered. His hands held me closely, tightly, possessively to him. “You don’t get to take it back. I get to take care of you now. To make sure you’re safe. You’re gonna live with me, sweet girl.”

“Okay, Rafe,” I agreed softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek gently. He leaned into the touch and I smiled. “I will.” I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, laying my forehead against his.

“I love you, baby,” he murmured, so quiet I could barely hear it.

“I love you too,” I replied, just as quiet, just as simple.

He smiled at that, the sight making his eyes go warm and sweet. “Alright, then, gorgeous. Let’s get you cleaned up and get the fuck out of here,” he said. His smile morphed into a cheesy sort of grin—the kind I rarely got to see. “Let’s go home.”

For once, I couldn’t disagree. And I couldn’t help but echo the cheesy smile. “Okay, then, Romeo,” I teased. “Let’s go home.”

[altbite]

Incorrect Quotes *mw2 x reader*

Alejandro: Rudy and I are having a baby.

Y/n: That's gre-

Alejandro, slamming adoption papers on the table: It's you, sign here.

_

Price, driving y/n and Soap: So how was your day?

Y/n: We almost got surprise adopted!

Price: What?

Soap: We almost got kidnapped.

Price: Oh, okay.

Price: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

_

Ghost: Y/n... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?

Y/n: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned.

Ghost:

Ghost: I wrote sanitize, Y/n.

_

Y/n: *Stubs their toe* FUCK!

Rudy: Mind your language!

Y/n: What else am I supposed to say, “Woe is I”???

Rudy:

Y/n: You have to accept that swear words are necessary sometimes.

_

Y/n: Am I going too far?

Gaz: No, no, no. You went too far about seven hours ago. Now you're going to prison.

_

Soap: Truth or dare?

Y/n: Dare

Soap: I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room

Y/n: Hey Graves

Graves, blushing: Yeah?

Y/n: Could you move? I’m trying to get to Alejandro

_

Y/n: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Gaz: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Ghost?

Ghost: Probably “road work ahead”.

Price: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

_

Price: Listen, I can explain...

Ghost: You’re making $500,000 and you’re only gonna pay me $30,000?

Soap: You’re getting 30 grand? I’m getting $1,000!

Y/N: You guys are getting paid?

_

Price: Just be yourself.

Y/n: 'Be myself'? Price, I have one day to win Alejandro over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Gaz: Couple weeks

Soap: Six months.

Ghost: Jury’s still out.

Y/n: See, Price?

Y/n: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

_

Soap: Alejandro... How do I begin to explain Alejandro?

Rudy: Alejandro is flawless.

Ghost: I hear their hair's insured for $10,000.

Gaz: I hear they do car commercials... in Japan.

Y/n: One time they punched me in the face... it was awesome.

[zephyrspace]

even if you have a rosary, who will save you now?

gn!yuu, very short headcanons + scenarios

summary: yuu accepts that there is no way home and that the world will keep turning no matter what. with no worth to their name and no real purpose in this twisted wonderland, except for solving other people’ problems, they decide to stop caring.

cw: swearing, violence, blood. dm me if i’ve missed anything!

a/n: title is translated lyrics from the song US by ruby ibarra. imagine yuu as however and whoever you want!

“woe is me, prefect! i just have so much paperwork to do that i completely forgot about your weekly food allowance. however, to speed things up a bit, if you lend me a hand here, i could probably get the allowance before the end of next week!”

yuu slinks over to one of crowley’s stacks of paperwork and ruffles through it. not without noticing how some pages were completely blank, ‘probably to bulk up and exaggerate the stack,’ yuu thinks and their eye twitches.

crowley gulps at being caught. but neither of the two say anything about it.

“i’m sure at your grown age you’re supposed to be able to manage your time better than this, but of course i didn’t expect anything from you.” yuu throws the binded document carelessly over their shoulder and onto the floor.

“wha-”

“as a minor under your care, this kind of thing could be considered child labour and abuse. especially for not prioritising my allowance.”

“but, prefect-”

“in other words, this isn’t my problem, bird shit for brains. so, unless you want me to call whatever magical bullshit equivalent you have of child protective services you have in this world, go ahead, give me your work documents. i would be ever so happy to oblige.”

the prefect’s eyes were icy and the atmosphere in the office turned chilly. crowley attempts to smarten up and clears his throat.

“i will have the cheque ready before noon.”

looking down at crowley, yuu sends him a smile with no trace of warmth.

“that’s better.”

unhinged!yuu wouldn’t actively seek out to fight people unless students do it to them first, which is all the time. kind of like ‘i’m nice to you if you are to me. but the second i deem you an enemy, you’re done’ mindset.

those who knew and were ‘friends’ with yuu, didn’t believe in their newly acquired attitude at the beginning, but after a group decided it’d be funny to poke at yuu a bit during lunch, that’s when they realise that yuu was serious about not caring for anything at all.

“oi, magicless runt.”

taking a bite from their sandwich, yuu looks up at the senior holding a tray of food, “hm?”

“get up.” the senior’s friends behind him snicker.

“why?” they take another bite. ‘i wish adeuce and grim would hurry up with their food.’ yuu thinks.

“there’s no more seats.”

“mhm?”

“as your seniors, we get priority.” the senior’s smile widens.

“hm.” another bite. “ish that shou”

with crumbs and sauce at the corners of their lips, yuu wipes it off with their thumb and licks it. they gulp down the remainder of the sandwich.

“sorry, senior. but i don’t see that rule anywhere in the canteen.” they swipe off the leftover crumbs on their hands.

“i thought you’d might say that.”

the senior picks up a bowl from his tray and dumps soup onto yuu’s head.

it’s still boiling hot.

it hurts.

“scram, first year. before i do something worse-”

the senior is on the floor, on his knees and doesn’t realise blood is seeping from his nose until it drips onto the tile.

by now, the whole canteen is silent.

he doesn’t even get time to process what happened until he feels a shin connect with his side and launches him onto another nearby table, his legs dangling off the side, uniform ruined.

“why you-” one of his goonies attempt to throw a punch back at the prefect.

yuu grabs his wrist and used the momentum to throw the senior onto his back. he chokes on the impact.

the rest of the group stays at their spots. ‘smart choice,’ yuu scoffs.

the prefect walks over to the first senior lying against the now abandoned table and grabs whatever food was on the nearest plate and forcibly stuffs it into the senior’s mouth. a whole bread roll.

“oh, senior! i see you’ve found a table to sit at!” the senior had tears along his waterline from the gag reflex of having a whole roll of bread in his mouth.

yuu shoves the bread roll further down the seniors throat. twisting and turning it. the senior makes sounds of retching and pain. “although, preferably, it’d be better to sit on the seat rather than on the table, no?”

the senior could only nod at yuu’s words.

yuu pats his hair demeaningly.

“good boy.”

in essence, yuu becomes very assimilated to nrc. scarily so.

[artfightdramaconfessions]

Every year without fail I will: 1. Realize artfight is coming up again only bc my dash over various websites explodes with team cards and then I go: "oh shit, gotta prepare refs". As if my brain can only compute 1 or 2 weeks ahead at most. You'd think 2 weeks are plenty of time to still get all the stuff sorted and ref sheets done right? Wrong. 1 week crunch time between attack to get that stuff sorted out because 2 weeks obviously is too little time after all I need at least three nevermind all the months in between that were free and available to do all that nah, nah.. before being alerted to AF starting up again July does not exist apparently and after AF concludes all the other months equally do not exists I am in the void doomed to timeloop through the same process each year girlfailure style.

2. Bookmark like crazy and then despair bc mathematically the amount of booksmarks cannot be realized as artworks in a singular month but does that stop me? No. I will try anyway. (it never works out for me ever but I learn nothing I will go ham on it like a woman on a mission)

3. Due to memory problems and a lack of idk... object permanence? Mental blindness? I will realize somewhen around this time too, that I might have said to myself last year: "I will comment on this defense for me a lil later when I am less exhausted" and forgotten to follow suit with that plan. Cue the internal crisis of "should I comment fashionably super late on this or simply not engage at all at this point bc commenting now feels even ruder" but not saying anything at all is even worse and flipflop on that anxiously for a couple of days and there is a good chance it might slip my mind again. 4. So I follow my crazy bookmark system religiously and forget that other people can and will attack during AF and suddenly I have a piece I need to revenge on and that flips my entire system over. I do indeed simply forget this is a thing. Gets me every time. I just wanna throw art at people can u maybe wait with throwing back I have a system ahhhhhh.

5. What is food, sleep. normal creature comforts even. Why am I subjected to the whimsy of a flesh vessel I wanna do arting and arting only for a month straight. Why am I made to endure corporal woes. Embarrassing.

6. were in gods green earth is my pen. I just held it to do art where did it go.

7. How do you explain a therapist how you willingly succumb to madness with a smile on your face and a cramp in your shoulder each year.

8. Broooo I am so hyped for this year if ya'll can't tell.

.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Love Me Bitterly [Chapter One] Secret Admirer [Adam]

A/n: I'm not sure if I'll have much time to work on this, but I certainly wanted to go ahead and post the first chapter. I'm not a big fan of Adam, but I love redemption-based fics, so I was inspired to write one. If this type of story isn't your cup of tea, please ignore it.

Warning(s): lewd compliments, sexual harassment, secret admirer, OC, redemption-based fic, Adam is Adam.

Next Chapter

The art here is what Marcella looks like to me.

No Minors Allowed!!

Marcella curled her nose in disgust at the lewd compliment left on her desk; the third one this week, she noted. Each one complimented her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable, and dare she say, cheap. 

‘Nice rack.’

She, like the others, crumbled the sticky note and tossed it in the waste bin. Whoever the pervert was, she hoped she never met them. With an uneasy sigh, Marcella put away her insulated lunch box and returned to her task, tending to the library.

While it was a fun and laid-back job, it was not what she would rather be doing. She was, for lack of a better word, promoted. Her sister, not by blood, but as fictive kin, moved her to the historical library to reflect on her actions when she nearly stood against an elected head on Earth who was abusing his power. It was her job as a warrior of the “Powers” to protect the cosmos from evil, and yet she was being chastised for doing what she felt was right. 

Disobedience is what the Morningstar was cast out for, her sister reminded her. Tread carefully, or you too might suffer the same fate.

Marcella was sick of being reminded of this, a tale as old as time. Every angel through the hierarchy, from Seraphim to the Virtuous knew of Lucifer and his fall. If one toe crossed the line, it was, ‘Don't be like Lucifer’, but she saw no fault in her actions. Perhaps it was why she was still attending the library rather than looking in on Earth or guarding the celestial byways. 

Regardless, she longed for action, rather than being the focus of some pervert's wet dream. 

Woe is me. 

Marcella tucked a strand of wavy light blonde hair behind her ear and grabbed the book cart, rolling it from behind her mahogany L-shaped desk. There was a stack of returned tomes the “Thrones” had checked out that she needed to return to the shelves.

As she sauntered to the middle of the room, she glanced around. The library was a relatively simple design with a wooden gallery and richly carved stone wall pilasters that dictated literary-themed nods. It was said to house thousands of books; from short stories to old tomes. Its only real shortcoming was how vacant it was. Marcella could hear a breath from a mile away. 

She picked up a tome and spread her pastel orange wings and flew to the second floor, landing gracefully on the bridge that crossed between the circle. Her asymmetrical Alice blue dress brushed against her thigh as she sauntered to the correct shelf and deposited the tome at the bottom where it belonged; the heavier books always went on the bottom shelf. 

The sudden sound of gentle footsteps prompted her to peek over the banister where one of her sisters, Rilea, stood. She was in her early twenties, a bubbly angel with a love for gossip. Her tea-length pale pink dress was clean and proper, not a stitch out of place, signifying that she was not on duty. 

Marcella flew down and greeted her with a smile. 

“What brings you here?” She asked.

Hopefully, to dismiss me from this pointless job, she opted not to say.

Rilea smiled wide. 

“I merely came to see how you were fairing, sister.”

Marcella knew better than to complain. 

“So Imelda didn't send you.”

“Why would she do that?” Rilea asked, tilting her head. “She has her hands tied at the moment, you know?”

She knew. There was never a lax day for the “Powers”, aside from library duty. Imelda was the Commander of their force, the same buzzkill who ‘promoted’ her. Marcella had hoped that she needed her back on duty. 

“What did you come up here for then?” The blonde asked, lowering her voice in disappointment. 

Rilea pouted. 

“Don't be broody. I told you I came to see you.”

Sure she did. Marcella turned and rolled her eyes, sauntering back to the desk. She leaned her arms on the tabletop and glanced at the redhead, whose hair was more a soft muted shade, then raised a brow.

“What have you heard?”

Rilea widened her grin and bounced on the toes of her shoes. 

“That you have an admirer.”

An admirer. Marcella frowned. Did she mean the pervert?

“That's an understatement.”

“Why say that? You're being unfair,” Rilea argued. 

She was bent out of shape about this for some reason. Suddenly, the realization hit Marcella like a bucket of ice water. 

“You know who it is, don't you?”

Rilea chuckled. 

“I sure do, but I'm not gonna tell you.”

How childish. Marcella turned up her baby blue eyes. 

“It's no skin off my back.”

“Then why did you want to know?” The redhead asked. She then widened her eyes and bounced in excitement. “You want to know because you are truly enamored by the idea of someone pining after you. That's so cute.”

Marcelle gave her an irritated look. 

“I want to know so I can report them for sexual harassment. ‘Looking good today, babe’, and ‘You look sexy in that dress’ is not a compliment.”

Was this person full of themselves?

“Noted,” Rilea declared. 

Marcella raised a brow. 

“I'll let him know. I mean…I don't know him personally but, Nera, my friend the Exorcist does,” she explained. “The only way to your heart is pure gentlemanly romance. I never took you as a big softy.”

“Or you could just tell him to leave me alone,” Marcella stated. 

She was not looking for a partner. All she wanted was to do her job.

Rilea stuck out her tongue.

“You're no fun, dear sister.”

Leaving shortly after to return to her post, Marcella was left alone again. Her thoughts wandered much to her dismay, to the pervert who had left sticky notes on her desk. Why did he like her? She was what the humans called a workaholic. It's all she ever knew; it's all her mother drilled in her head. 

A sigh of unease left her. 

Look at me now, grounded. 

Besides her cutesy, despondent appearance, what was there to like? 

At dusk, when the library closed, Marcella locked up and went home to her comfortable studio apartment. It was not much, but she loved the space. There was a big bay window right in her living area where she liked to sit and read, and then in her bedroom, across from it were her instruments.

One thing she loved about humans was their artistic talents, especially in terms of music. She bought a P-Bass after hearing her first riff, then also taught herself to play the violin; classical and rock - as the humans coined them - were her favorite genres. 

Such music became so loved in Heaven, within reason, that Marcella even joined a small band, Frisson, who played every once in a while in the square. Their last performance was a fortnight ago, and while she didn't play much, she did fill in for the lead vocalist and sang. Her voice was decent, not suited to bellow out a growl or a scream, but she handled their slower, sadder songs just fine. 

Since her Commander had benched her, perhaps she could get the band in agreement to play another gig soon. Marcella fell back onto her bed, spreading her wings, and sighed. She honestly had way too much time on her hands. 

“I need a new hobby.”

Tomorrow, she vowed to find one.

[dreamer213]

Broken Machines: Between The Shadows

Chapter 13: Jazztassic Throwdown

The rest of that day seemed to go by so quickly after that. Ciel didn’t say much after she finally stopped crying, but they managed to finish the exam. They re-exchange contact information because Penny leaves. She had never known how Ciel reacted to her presumed death, not even an inkling until now. It was surreal watching the recognition, pain, and joy erupt from Ciel in succession like that. She had never been so emotional in front of Penny before but seeing it made her feel oddly happy but also guilty. All that time she had been carrying all that grief for absolutely no reason. Logical she knows this isn’t either of their faults, her survival was miraculous and unexpected! And it seems the ripper effect it caused was still making new waves or rather Penny was realizing there were more out there than she ever thought there could be.

She vents a very curated version of her woes to Whitley later that night. Explaining how Ciel used to look after her and thought her injury had been fatal only to now realize she was alive and well. How she had cried a lot when she realized Penny was okay and couldn’t stop for a long time.

Penny: I’ve never seen her like that before, it felt strange in a good way. Like seeing how sad she was made me realize how much she genuinely cared for and missed me.

She says with a conflicted smile. Whitley doesn’t respond immediately as if he needed a second to absorb the knowledge that someone could react this way was a little too foreign for him to understand. After too long of a pause Penny gets a little worried but just as she’s about to ask if he’s okay Whitley perks up again.

Whitley: Sorry got a little lost in thought. But it’s great that you two could reunite after all that… I’m glad you have someone looking out for you like that.

His voice is chipper but there’s a tinge of sadness underlying the tone. Penny does not like this, but she gets it, Whitley has no one to look after him or miss him the way Ciel did for Penny so hearing about this must be disheartening, not that he would tell her that. But before he can change the subject Penny pulls out the concert tickets.

Penny: I also got these!

She waves the tickets in the camera view. Earlier she had debated with herself on who to bring with her but at this moment there was no contest.

Was it primarily because she turned to putty whenever her boyfriend was even a little too sad for her liking? Yes, but that was the nature of the beast that is being a doting girlfriend.

Almost two weeks later Whitley had hit a lucky streak, Jacques would be away the night of the concert into the following morning, and quite a few staff members had taken the night off, so he’d have no trouble sneaking out. Cut to the Saturday of the show, Jacques has already left the building and Whitley is sitting at his desk blazing through a mountain of paperwork, a passionate glint in his eyes as he slashes through form after form.

Whitley: Just a few more...just a few more.

He chants in his head, trying to keep his spirits up as he closes in on the last of his work for the week! If he could get this done, then there’d be nothing stopping him from enjoying the night ahead! Even if his wrist begins to ache and his lower back goes numb from lack of motion he presses on.

Whitley: Just one more!

He chants inwardly as he feverishly looks over the last document in his pile and files it out.

Whitley: Done!

He slams the paper onto the pile and shoots up from his desk! Streaking out as his body readjusts out of its sitting position. There was still a lot of prep to do before he went out but the rush of finishing this avalanche of documents had given him a second wind.

Whitley: Let’s not waste any time.

He straightened up his stack of paperwork before stepping toward his bathroom. Couldn’t go out on an evening date without freshening up first.

Down in Mantle Penny is also getting ready for the concert. She had done some research beforehand and prepped quite a bit in the lid up to the night off. She’s stocked up on water, tissues, and hand sanitizer, had their ride to show figured out, and picked out an outfit fit for the weather and venue. Now the troublesome part was doing her hair and makeup.

You see, Team FNKI is a neo-jazz/swing band. Their music was very vibrant and poppy, just like the bandmate's aesthetics. Their stage setup was usually bright with neon lights, they wore dust-infused costumes and used their semblances during their solos in fantastical displays of rhythm and power. Thus, their fan base would come dressed in one or both sides of the band’s aesthetic. Some came in bright streetwear, some in classy jazz club attire, or a mix of both.

Penny didn’t have much that matched either comfortably, but after looking through some old and new clothes she managed to pull together something fitting. She found a pair of her old stockings with glowing green stripes, borrowed some glowing power button pins from her dad, and got some thick black satin ribbon to upstyle her chosen outfit. Turning the pins into earrings, helping her dad make a heart-shaped pin to add to the bow of her headband, and lacing the ribbon through the sleeves of her pink cardigan were great after-work crafts. It was so much fun doing metal working with her dad and calling Ciel for advice on the sleeves since hers were what inspired her.

All said and done her concert ensemble was perfect! For Penny's taste at least. But then there was the makeup. She’d asked around for some ideas, she’d actually had to beg Octavia not to send her a year’s worth of cosmetics and had figured out a pretty good image to go for.

After getting partially dressed before washing and towel drying her face, Penny grabs out her newly purchased cosmetics container. Her selection was vested or luxurious, the most expensive thing she had in there was a palette gifted by Octavia months ago, but it had all the essentials. Brushes, lipstick, gloss, eyeshadows, liners, blush and nail polish of various were all present in limited amounts. But that was fine, she had enough for her needs and whims.

Penny: Alright let's get started!

She chirps to herself, propping up a small mirror on her bedroom floor and sitting down with her makeup case. Gathering her materials and looking herself dead on in the mirror, Penny begins her private beauty session. Starting with the most detailed intense work, Penny applies some sparkle-filled black eyeshadow to both her eyelids but only three-quarters of them. Then she goes in with an equally shimmery blush pink to cover the rest. Next is lipstick, first a hot pink on the top lip and outlining the bottom lip then fill in the rest with a softer pink. Lastly, a touch of blush and it's done! It’s not professional but still bright and poppy like she wanted it.

But it’s not over yet! Now it’s hair time!

Getting her whole head an initial brush before sectioning off two long strands from right behind her ears, Penny swoops the hair to one side and ties the section into a side ponytail. Brushing it out again, she rolls the ponytail into a bun and then secures it with a rubber band and bobby pins. Once it’s in place she adds an assortment of hairpins she’d picked up while shopping for supplies. Or rather the contents of a box of hair accessories for little girls she saw in the shop window of a tween accessory shop on the way home.

Hey, who said robots were immune to impulse buying?

She puts a total of four pins in, a treble cleft, a blue flower, a white butterfly, and a smiling kitty.

But that wasn’t her only find at that techno-colored store. To top off her look Penny pulls out the finishing touch, neon glow-in-the-dark nail polish!

Using the two-coat method from the nail kit’s instruction packet Penny applies a nice layer of green polish, lets it dry, and then adds a coat of clear setting polish. When her nails are fully dried Penny jumps up off the floor and runs to turn off her bedroom lights. As the darkness engulfs the room her nails shine a bright neon green, eliciting a chorus of excited giggles from the enamored android. She flickers the lights on and off a few times before setting down and putting on the rest of her outfit practically shaking with excitement.

She’d be dressed to the nines before long, no doubt to the delight of her performing friends and her lovely date.

In fact, said date was getting ready himself, dawning a periwinkle plaid pair of slacks with a white long-sleeve dress shirt with the matching plaid vest and long black coat to make his tie and gloves. It’s a damper look and though his gray face mask breaks the aesthetic a little his fake horn-rimmed glasses and light blue cap more than make up for that. As he applies some lip balm and sprays a little cologne on his shirt Mary stands by his bedside in wait. Since Jacques was only going to be out for the night and the probability of him staying long enough to force his intended mark to allow him to stay the night out of hospitality up in the air Whitley needed a lookout.

Whitley: My scroll will be on vibrate, if Father calls you know what to do.

He remarks, putting the cologne bottle down and walking to the door.

Mary: Yes, Young Master.

That’s all that’s said between them before Whitley leaves, Mary does as she was told and holds onto Whitley’s usual scroll before leaving for the kitchen. The manor was abnormally quiet and empty, and she had been given free rein to get a little snack from the main house kitchen. By the time Whitley’s out of the manor Mary’s poured herself a glass of wine and made a mini charcuterie board, things are looking quite lovely but somewhere in the pit of her stomach Mary can feel a pip of dread forming. This night would not end so peacefully.

But this dread had not reached Whitley as he journeyed to their usual meeting spot. Throughout his cab and train ride, he can feel himself smiling behind his mask. He’d never been to a causal concert so this would be a special treat, made even sweeter by the fact that he’d be sharing it with Penny. Vacating the train car as the doors opened Whirlpool couldn’t wait to partake in the exciting night they had ahead of them.

Upon exiting the station, it doesn’t take Whitley more than five seconds to spot Penny waiting for him. The light glow of her accessories made her easy to spot.

Now to some, the first thing they would have noticed about her outfit was how the flow of her black skirt and the tightness of her glowing stockings contoured her legs perfectly and made the uncovered part of her thighs look ever the more supple. Others would have noted how her makeup paired with the LED light of her earrings made her face glow in this almost fantastical way. And a few immediately acknowledged the way her open cardigan hung on her frame made her look extremely huggable.

But being her detail-oriented boyfriend, Whitley Schnee notices all three almost completely at once and springs over to her.

Being used to the way they’ve grown to greet each other Penny embraces him with open arms. She lets him get in close and rests his head on her shoulder as they take each other in but pulls away only a few seconds later when she feels a peck against her neck right above her chocker.

Penny: Ah!

She yelps while pulling back, left hand clasping over the spot Whitley just kissed feeling the remnants of chapstick sticking to her skin. Her shocked gaze is met with Whitley’s teasing smirk as he stares proudly at the little mark he’s left on.

Penny: W-w-what was that for?!!!

She stutters, face flushed with surprise and cheeks puffed in annoyance.

Whitley: Nothing really, I saw something sweet and wanted a taste.

He teases, pinky finger still hooked onto the center of his mask leaving his charming smile in full view to her. He lends in close bringing his lips right over her left ear.

Whitley: You look incredible, twinkling like a little star in the night. Then again, when don’t you? You’re always so brilliant, too brilliant to ever miss.

He whispers, voice playful but earnest. Penny can feel her heart pounding and her head going fuzzy again. If she had any less self-control, she would have kissed the smug look right off his face for being so damn enchanting!

But she couldn’t.

Her lipstick wouldn’t be enough to cover up her taste.

Penny: You look good too.

She replies, her tone a bit dour compared to her earlier spunk and shock. Whitley notes the difference immediately and backs off, instead offering her his arm.

Whitley: Shall we?

He says with a soft smile, the gesture soothes Penny’s nerves, and she clings to him as they go hail a taxi. The ride to the venue is uneventful aside from Penny’s excited bouncing in her seat as they draw closer to the club. Whitley’s unsurprised by her giddiness, she’d been gushing about this group since she’d got the tickets, and from her word and his own personal research Whitley could understand why. The concept of huntsmen musicians using all their talents to put on an amazing show was interesting. Seeing people with physical capabilities and powers far beyond the average person could be a dazzling spectacle. And tonight, he’d get to enjoy that spectacle, maybe even find some inspiration.

Penny: We’re here!

Penny cries as the taxi comes to a stop in front of the night's venue, the Obsidian Inn one of Mantle’s best jazz clubs. The building is dark with illuminated windows, the architecture less modern and more stylish as the front appears covered with pillars with music notes covered into them. It’s almost hard to see as the building is already swamped with people both inside and out. Venders, other concert-goers, and passers-by leave the street clogged up to the point there’s barely a few inches of free space for people to move around each other. Settling up the driver and getting out of the cab, Penny and Whitley hold hands tightly as they try to weave their way through the crowd. But the closer they get the more Whirlpool can feel eyes staring at them, heads turning to guck as they pass, and some stopping in their tracks.

This was not good, so far Whitley had been able to fly under the radar whenever he was in Mantle but it seems that his luck had run out.

Whitley: Just great. This is what I get for dressing up while sneaking out. Damn it.

He curses to himself, shuffling a little faster to try and escape the crowd as soon as possible but he’s stopped by the tug of Penny’s hand on his. Looking behind him, he sees that she’s stopped or rather had been stopped by a girl holding her scroll out and asking for a picture. The girl was about their age and seemed to be awestruck by the huntress in front of her and looking around she wasn’t the only one. Those gazes Whitley had felt earlier were all pointed at Penny, the beloved local heroine Penny.

Now Whitley knew she was well-liked when she’d run into fans during their last two dates, but this was far more intense than either of those times. It seems the sight of the protector out in causal clothing held a central appeal with the public and made her easier to approach.

Whitley: Who would have thought she was this level of celebrity?

Whitley mused, looking on as part of the crowd diverted to swarm Penny for selfies. Said star quickly growing overwhelmed by the attention but far too flattered to turn them away, still, she couldn’t leave her date hanging. Pulling her hand away from his, Penny fishes out one of the tickets from her purse and holds it out to Whitley.

Penny: Go ahead and find our seats, I’ll join you when I’m done with…. all this.

She gestures to the mini crowd forming around her. Whitley nods, whispering a soft “Good luck” before taking his ticket and heading inside. The bounce at the door checks his ticket and lists out the club’s rules of no fighting, underage drinking, drug use, and so on before letting Whitley in. The interior of the club is just as cool and campy as the exterior, the floors are velvet, lights are low aside from the neon trim highlighting the stage and bar area. The seating areas are mostly booths lined against the wall and around the sunken dance floor in front of the stage, with signs set on top of the tables with numbers marking the seating. According to his ticket Whitley and Penny’s table was closest to the stage. Sitting down at the edge of the booth Whitley looks around and takes in his surroundings. It’s a nice club, very chic but casual the usual jazz club feel. As he glances around Whitley notices s familiar face among the sea of people making their way to their seats.

Jemma: Remind me again why the hell you dragged me out here?

Julia: Because I finally got time off and tickets to a good live show, and thought my baby sis could use a night off from studying herself to death.

Jemma: Well, you thought wrong.

Sue: Aw come on Jem Jam lighten up! It’s not every day you get to see a band live like this! Especially not one like FNKI!

Jemma: If you say so.

Yes, there were three familiar faces among the crowd, two of which were far more familiar than the third.

Whitley: Oh crap.

Whitley turns his gaze away and lowers his head, trying not to be noticed as the three women pass by. Unfortunately, Sue starts taking pictures of the club, flailing around to get good shot of the venue. Being over-excited, she accidentally loses her grip on the device, and it slips from her hands and onto the floor. Where it lands right next to Whitley’s feet. He reaches down to try to pick it up and hand it to her before she gets too close, but Sue swiftly dives down in scope up her beloved scroll and their hands touch.

Sue: I got it, I got it! My bad! Thanks, dud-

Sue pauses as she stares into the all-too-familiar pair of blue eyes, one belonging to the young master she served. Her gaze is frozen on him, but his eyes start to drift behind her. Not knowing what to do she follows his gaze and realizes he’s looking at her fluffy upright-in-stock with every strand of fur standing on end tail.

Sue: Oooh no, oh fuck! No!

Sue immediately breaks into a cold sweat as her shock quickly turns into panic at the realization that her job is in danger. Master Jacques was not a fan of fanus in the slightest and Whitley, kind as he was, was still his son. One word and her dreams would come crashing down around her and there was nothing she could do about it.

Tears form in the cracks of her eyes Sue opens her mouth to plead with him, but Whitley grips her hand and holds up a gloved finger to stop her. His eyes looked at her with an intense glint the likes of which she’d never seen before.

Whitley: Listen carefully because I’m not going to repeat myself.

He whispers, his voice is cold as frosting ice, tone sharp like a dagger.

Whitley: You didn’t see me here; I didn’t see you and this never happened. Understand?

He commands with no room for negotiation. Sue nods frantically in the affirmative, Whitley nods back and lets her hand go before shooing her away to which Sue scurries to her feet and runs over to her table, sitting in the seat that best blocks Jemma and Julia from seeing him.

Once he’s sure Sue’s gotten the message, Whitley sits back and relaxes a little. He moves to the more shaded side of the booth and takes off his coat before checking his scroll. There are no warnings or messages from Mary yet, so he just scrolls through his notes of leads and possible weaknesses in Jacques's corruption. The list predates the device it’s currently on and seems to grow every week. With the greedy tyrant’s hunger for power pointed elsewhere for the first time since he swindled his way into the Schnee family, Whitley had more opportunities to see the cracks from his position as the loyal dog.

Some of it was pretty tame but hard to unearth, other things were wretched that Whitley had a hard time stomaching the knowledge that it was happening.

Whitley: Disgusting.

He glares at his scroll, turning it off and setting it down a few inches away from him as if the knowledge contained in it made it too foul to be held anymore. Not more than a moment later Penny walks up with an apologetic look on her face as she approaches.

Penny: Sorry I took so long! I tried to be quick but more people wanted a picture with me than I thought.

She apologizes, and Whitley’s mood immediately perks back up.

Whitley: Don’t worry, it’s not your fault that the public adores you. And who can blame them? Having someone so formidable but adorable guarding your city would make anyone a little patriotic.

And just like he’s got her blushing again in about ten seconds, the soft glow of her flustered face lighting his stress by leaps and bounds.

Penny: Stop it, we’re a public venue! Other people might hear you.

She huffs before pulping down into the booth and sliding over to sit right next to him. Before Whitley can throw out a comeback the lights go out. the stage currents open but no lights come on, but the silhouette of four people with their instruments cut through the darkness. Suddenly the soft beat of drums and voices sweeps through the club from the stage sound system.

Flynt: Evening, everybody. It’s been a while.

The crowd cheers loudly as Flynt speaks to them, leaning against the wall from stage left while holding his horn.

Flynt: I know you missed us, but me and my crew’ve been busy. World’s been a mess and we’ve been out in the streets fighting the good fight for this little glimmer stone on the continental popsicle we call home!

The crowd cheers grow louder, some howler out “Whoa! MANTLE!” as Flynt continues.

Flynt: But tonight, we gonna forget all that. Tonight, we jammin. Tonight! We bring the house down!

With that spotlights cut on, revealing all of team FNKI dressed to the nines and already jamming out the intro to one of their more famous songs. Flynt saunters away from the sideline snapping to the beat and right on cue he hits his part and activates his killer quartet amplifying the sound with gusts from the trumpets.

The party’s truly on as the band plays in perfect harmony and swing. The set is electrifying with every song performed being full of passion and energy. At a certain point, there’s a bit of a switch-up to who’s leading the charge as five songs in Ivori’s bass seem to take over the melody for the sixth. The song is exquisite, matching his velvety aura as the notes seem to bounce off walls into a revolving melody that makes perfect use of the acoustics. This pattern of playing hard together then letting one bandmate take the spotlight persists throughout the show. Kobalt’s drum solo is a heavy hit combo, Flynt's use of his copies layers his sound beautifully and wraps the whole club in his tunes.

And then there’s Neon.

Neon Katt was dressed a bit differently from her friends. Fishnet gloves, a white rainbow heart patterned tube top dress with a ruffled skirt at the bottom with black shirts underneath, one fishnet stocking, one bunched up neon blue sock, glow stick ringlets on every limb, and her trademark skates were parred for the course with her but seemed too causal for what she was doing. Until the last song fades out and instead of starting in with another FNKI goes silent and Neon rolls out from behind her DJ booth, dawning a headset as she skates her way to center stage.

Under the spotlight, Neon turns away from the audience and then puts one hand on her hips and the other in the air. She puts down a finger and the crowd shouts out.

Audience: 5!

She puts down another.

Audience: 4!

And another.

Audience: 3!

It keeps going until-

Audience: 2…… 1!

When the crowd cries one the DJ booth roars to life with sound and Neon backflips off the stage onto the dance floor! When her wheels hit the ground rolls into a round around the dance floor until she gets to the center-right as the interlude stops and her first verse starts as her bandmates come in on the track.

Neon: We’re all born, with a dream, we wanna make, come true-oh! ~

She sings, tail bouncing to the beat as she starts to dance.

Neon: The best will climb to the top like me, the rest will end up like you! ~

She winks and throws a peace sign to the crowd as on the note for “you!” the song, “Neon Rainbow” is super hit pitch and poppy, matching Neon to a t! It’s clear this is her song, from her singing to the dancing and her overly stage presence, this was her very own personal anthem! This only solidifies when during the lines, “I’m cool like the rain and I’m hot like the sun!” where she pulls off two of the glow stick accessories and ignites them, revealing the accessories to be small dust canisters, ice, and fire respectively which she twists around for the rest of the chorus. Then she throws them into the air only to catch them with her tail as she starts to roll up to the isles. She skates up, down, and around the closest rows of tables, bringing the performance straight to the audience much to the fans’ delight.

Right in the third verse, Neon replaces a line with a call for a call and response!

Neon: Come on sing it with me now~

Her fans comply and come in with the next lyric.

Audience: Just think of happy things, you’ll see in no time! ~

Neon: Fun every day! ~

Audience: The clouds roll away! ~

Neon: Try it you’ll see! ~

Audience: Just be more me! ~

Neon: Woah!

At that moment Neon activates her semblance and glides back to the dance floor as the techno instrument plays. She zips around the floor in the haze of her rainbow, building momentum until she can’t even be seen beyond the mass of color. Until she jumps up into the air with a flip, when she lands it’s time for the last chorus!

Neon: Listen, girlfriend, can’t you see~ I’m all of the things, that you’ll never be! ~

Sticks come back for cool like the rain and hot like the sun and stay for the last line-

Neon: I’m a neon rainbow! ~ You’re no fun! ~

The instrument comes back for the last time and Neon dances it out til the end. By the end, she’s fabulously sweaty under the spotlight as the crowd goes wild. Looking over to the front row she spots Penny cheering her heart out absolutely overwhelmed by the spectacular performance! Neon puffs up her chest and with a mischievous glint in her she rolls straight up to her.

Penny: Huh?

Penny looks at her bewildered but doesn’t get a chance to ask any questions as the music picks back up. This distracts her long enough for Neon to take advantage and pull her up from her seat and onto the dance floor!

Neon: Time to boogie! Everybody, get on this dance floor!

The audience goes nuts and people start pouring onto the dance floor, leaving Penny and Neon to get swept up in the fray! Whitley immediately goes after them, catching the rhythm of the music and dancing his way through the sea of people. It’s a little tricky at first, he’s not used to dancing so close to people at such a high tempo but once he gets the rhythm down Whitley weaves his way through to the back where he finds Penny being twirled around by Neon. The two redheads are engaged in a very one-sided swing dance when Penny catches sight of Whitley. Her smile of relief draws Neon’s attention, and in an act of complete spontaneity spins Penny around fast then launches her in Whitley's direction!

By some miracle of quick reflexes and muscle memory Whitley manages to take hold of Penny’s hand before the spinning knocks her off balance and swings her into a dip. Her momentum coming in was pretty high, so he had to pull her lower than he ever had but they pulled it off without her falling. For a moment they lock gazes, Penny’s eyes twinkling with amazement and excitement. In a bid of playfulness, Whitley pulls her back, presses their bodies together shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest, and faces less than an inch away from each other.

Whitley: Shall we?

He says with a wink, Penny pauses for a second and gives an enthusiastic nod in agreement. It’s a far cry from the last time they danced together, much more casual, with spins, dips, and sways being more frequent to match the fast pace of the best. Their steps are lighter, and though they may not be as skilled as the more experienced fans they have a blast, nonetheless. They end up dancing for most of the night, only stopping when the heat of the dance floor gets too stuffy. Once they retreat back to their booth Whitley offers to get them some drinks to help them cool off.

Whitley: Got any preferences? Water, juice, soda?

Penny: Oh! Cam you see if they have root beer!

Whitley blinks at the odd suggestion but nods in agreement before sauntering off to the bar. While he’s gone, Penny checks herself in a small compact mirror she’s put in her purse. All that dance right up against him and the rest of the people on the dance floor meant sweat was flying all over the place. Luckily, it’s not too bad no stains on her clothes from bumping into people, and her makeup was as pretty as when she applied it. Putting away her compact Penny looked up at the stage happily, there was something so magical about seeing her friends in their element outside of hunting Grimm. They looked so…different but in a good way, more carefree if that was even possible.

While she gazed, Neon made eye contact and shot her cheeky “we’re sooo talking about this later” wink. Penny tenses and looks away, unnerved by what the brash car girl might have planned for her later.

At the bar, Whitley places his order, asking for Penny’s root beer first only to be told by the bartender that they don’t really sell it with their other soft drinks.

Whitley: What do you mind you don’t serve it?

Bartender: It means we don’t serve it.

Whitley: Then why do you have it?

Bartender: Look it’s not that we don’t, the brand we got just ain’t the kind you serve straight.

Whitley: Well, how do you serve it then?

The bartender picks up a pint and pulls out a tub of vanilla ice cream from the mini-fridge next to the ice maker. He grabs a scoop and fills the pint halfway with ice cream, pulls out the nozzle for the keg of root beer, and fills up the rest of the glass. Give it a good stir with a metal straw then gives it a whippet of whipped cream before stabbing a milkshake straw through it, even throwing in a tiny cherry on top before pushing it toward a stunned Whitley. A root beer float, an old-fashioned drink that was synonymous with youthful fun and hijinx. It was a drink for teens, something sweet to wash away the bitterness of a hard day learning in school, or a celebratory treat after a successful night mischief.

How perfectly on theme.

Whitley eyes the glass pint with an amused smirk then asks the bartender one last question.

Whitley: Is this all you have or are there other flavors?

After fifteen or so minutes Whitley returns with two ice cream floats, root beer for Penny, and orange cream for himself. He sets them down and scoots back into the booth with Penny who’s staring at the drinks with mouth-watering delight.

This was unreal! Penny had always wanted to try having root beer this was ever since Dad gave her a sip from his can while she was still getting used to her new senses. The illustration of it on that soda can was burned into her memory as another small want in her well of wishes. And now it was right in front of her!

Penny: How did you…

Whitley: Luck of the draw, it’s the only way they serve old fashion soda here, and I had a feeling you’d like it.

Penny squeals, she grasps the glass pint with both hands and looks at the drink with a beaming smile.

Penny: Thank you! I can’t wait taste it!

She squeals with glee before taking a big sip. It's cold, creamy and so sweet! The rougher taste of the root beer gives the overly sugary drink a real punch! Whitley watches her enjoy her beverage for a while before taking a sip of his own. It’s so citrusy and sugary wit a creamy texture that made it easier suck down. It was far more surgery than anything he’d ever tasted before, to the point his teeth itch a little.

The calorie intake on this alone would blow his diet straight to hell! Which is why it tastes all the more sweeter to Whitley as he keeps sipping. After all, this was a night of freedom and rebellion with his lady love, so all the rules be damned, diet included!

They spend the rest of the concert sipping their drinks and enjoying the music. It’s past midnight when the sect finally raps up with a bang of protectants, illuminating the stage in rainbow-coated bang!

Flynt: That’s all y’all, we out!

Neon: Love you peeps!

Kobalt: Keep it real!

Ivori: We’ll be back soon so look out for us on the scene!

Flynt: Good night, everybody!

The audience gives a final rearing cheer as Team FNKI has their current call and leaves the stage. Much of the crowd starts to leave while others stay as the club starts playing their usual selection. Penny and Whitley are about to make their exit when Neon glides in.

Neon: Heyyo Penny Pop! You enjoy the show!

She beams at them, standing right in the middle of their path and blocking the easiest route out.

Penny: Hello Neon. Yes, we really enjoyed the show. You and the rest of Team FNKI were amazing!

Neon: Aw, thanks, girl! Glad you had fun. But uh, I got say you really surprised me. Didn’t think you had it in you to pull something like this!

Penny: Huh? What are you talking about?

Penny cocks her head; she’s got no clue what Neon’s talking about. But it becomes clear when the cat girl rolls over to Whitley’s side and grabs onto his shoulders.

Neon: Nothing just that, You Brought A Date Without Telling Me!

The redhead faunus clasps Whitley’s masked face and smushes his cheeks.

Neon: I mean look at him! So classy, tall, and even smells good! Even with his face is all covered up, you can still tell he’s a total hottie!

Penny: Neon!

Penny protests, not that Neon was saying anything untrue but it’s completely inappropriate for her coworker to be talking about her boyfriend like that!

Neon: What? It’s true! Look at those strong shoulders.

Penny: Regardless! You shouldn’t say things like that about someone else’s boyfriend!

The moment the words leave her mouth Penny throws her hands over her mouth as she realizes what she’s just done. Neon looks at her dumbstruck then at Whitley then back a Penny before repeating her last word.

Neon: Boyfriend? He’s your-You have a boyfriend?!

Neon points out, looking totally mystified while Penny begins to fidget as she struggles to find a way out of this.

Penny: That’s-I-It’s not…..

Penny can’t find the right words to say, she couldn’t deny it outright because of her tell and she couldn’t deny it non-verbally because she’d already confirmed it with her first statement. Whitley’s about to cut into the conflict but Neon lets him go and turns tail toward the way she came.

Neon: I gotta tell the guys, they’re gonna flip!

She exclaims before dashing off to a backstage door. Fearing their secret is about to be exposed, Whitley and Penny quickly get their things together and chase after her. They rush the door behind her only to find she’s already caught up with her teammates and is about to spread the news!

Neon: Guys, you are not gonna believe this, Penny has a-

Penny: Neon Katt!!!

Penny shouts, interpreting the playful party girl just in time. She and Whitley stand opposite the rest of Team FNKI while Neon stands in the middle, an incoming confrontation looming over them as young lovers try to smooth the situation over.

Penny: Neon, I need you to not do what you’re about to do.

Neon: Why not? It’s good news!

Penny: Please! The situation is very, very complicated, and I rather keep it private! Please just don’t-

Neon: Don’’t what?! What’s so complicated about you having a boyfriend?

And just like that the cat’s out of the bag straight from another cat’s mouth. Penny visibly deflates while Whitley facepalms, all that planning, secrecy, and effort down the drain in one night because of a nosy friend. Said friend seems completely unaware of what she’s just done while her teammates gaze at the pair in stunned shock as they take in the news.

Kobalt: Get out! Are you serious?!

Ivori: No, freaking, way! I knew something was going on, you had a happy little glow to you but for the life of me I could not place it. Now I see where it was coming from!

The two men gush, absolutely endeared to their younger co-worker's budding relationship. Except for Flynt, who looks down at the couple from his shade with a usually harsh look of suspicion while the rest of his team continues their fawning.

Neon: Right? Now all those weird texts make sense. You were fishing for dating advice, weren’t you?

Kobalt: What text? What are you talking about-

Ivori: -O. M. Double G, No! That would mean-you two have been together for that long?! Really?!

Neon looks at Ivori with a raised eyebrow until her mind backtracks enough to realize that what she’d just discovered was not a new thing. The gears in her head were practical steaming for all to see as the cat girl looked down at her hands and counted with her fingers, double-checking a few times to make sure she got it right.

Neon: That was almost like three months ago!

Kobalt: Seriously? Penny had a boyfriend for three months and nobody knew. No way?!

Ivori: This is just too cute, I gotta know how this went down.

The three, now brimming with curiosity, come together and bombarded the couple with a rapid fire of questions, mostly directed at Penny. Said girl doesn’t know how to handle the mess of prying queries but amidst the chaos, Flynt strides around his crew and squares up with Whitley. Standing right in front of him a looking down at him with shade-covered eyes.

Flynt: So, you’re Penny’s boyfriend huh?

Flynt asks, his usual playful mannerisms coming off more threatening tone then mildly smug. Whitley just nods yes in response, not speaking as he can tell just hearing his voice might set Flynt off.

Why?

Because Whitley knew good and well this man had an issue with him. More accurately he had issues with his father, Jacques.

Flynt immediately proves his point as his suspicious stare twists into a hateful glare.

Flynt: I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. How ‘bout you open your mouth and speak up-

All of a sudden, he reaches down and rips the mask right off of Whitley’s face!

Flynt: -Whitley Schnee!

Flynt’s voice drips with venom, the others look on in horror as he grabs the teen by his collar and gets in his face. The shock only lasts a second before Neon and Kobalt rush to pull him off, screaming at him to knock it off and unhand the kid while trying to pull back. But Flynt stands strong, anger keeping him firmly planted in place like a still burning hot lava stone as he breaks into a tirade.

Flynt: You got a whole lot of nerve waltzing into my show, in my city with one of my friends Schnee! Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize your sorry ass or were you trying to piss me off?!

He smears, Neon, and Kobalt are still trying to get him to stop but there’s no getting through to him.

Kobalt: Dude, stop! This ain’t the time or the place!

Neon: What the hell, Flynt! What’s gotten into you?! Knock it off!

Flynt: BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!

The shout stops both of them in their tracks.

Flynt: This got nothing to do with you so back the fuck up!

Neither seemed to know what to do, they’d never seen him rage like this before. Flynt is about to go off again but a stinging pain in his arm stops him. Looking down at his arm Flynt catches sight of Penny’s hand gripping his forearm. Looking over at her, Penny’s gaze is sharp and pointed, a stare usually reserved for grimm and the worst of criminals.

Penny: Flynt Coal, release Whitley immediately, or I will make you release him.

She commands, pressing her thumb into his wrist hard, a silent threat to obey or risk losing the limb. Flynt relents and lets go, rubbing his wrist with his unharmed hand to soothe it. Penny’s gaze doesn’t waiver though, it stays firmly locked in Flynt.

Penny: Now, explain to me why you just assaulted a civilian!

She orders, anger ripe in her voice. Flynt grits his teeth at her demand and Penny continues to glare at him in wait for her answer. The atmosphere is unbearably tense as the two usually calm huntsmen stare daggers at each other when Whitley finally speaks up.

Whitley: It’s nothing personal to me, just family ties. My father screwed over his, devastated the poor man’s long-standing dust business to make way for his monopoly.

This exclamation pulls everyone’s attention to Whitley, Flynt stammering a little at his honesty as Whitley continues.

Whitley: It’s a shame really, how big corporations bulldoze over locate businesses. Especially when it’s spearheaded by a megalomaniac with a moral code lower than most casinos.

He tilts his glasses, swagger just as prim and proper as always, as he looks Flynt directly in the eyes.

Whitley: Really, who could blame the family, in this case, the son, of one of those poor unfortunate souls for getting a little volatile when confronted with the spawn of the person he hates most? And at his own concert no less! Honestly, anyone would have lost their cool over this. Isn’t that, Flynt Coal?

He extends a hand to him, face fixed into his usual business smile. The message he was sending Flynt was clear, he had no ill will toward him in regard to their fathers’ conflict. He wasn’t here for anything more than a date with his girlfriend and any external conflict was just a coincidence. It reminded Flynt of how he came at Weiss but instead of dancing around it in a fight like she had, Whitley was upfront. No dental or pretense, just straight facts. He knew the score, knew what his family name had become, and wasn’t gonna pretend they had any leg to stand when it came to morality.

That’s gutsy, Flynt could respect that.

He grips Whitley’s hand and gives it a firm shake.

Flynt: Yeah, my bad.

He relents, the atmosphere calms as the two come to a silent trust.

Ivori: Okay! Now that that’s settled-

Ivori finally steps up, striding up from the shadows and grabbing everyone’s attention. He plants himself strategically between Whitley, Flynt, and Penny, making the two lovers back up to one side and the band to the other as he prattles on.

Ivori: -Why don’t you two tell us your story?

He gestures to Penny and Whitley.

Ivori: We’d love to hear how this all came about.

He inquiries, voice soft and soothing as the texture of his last name's sake. The couple exchange glances, Penny looks anxious, so Whitley gets in close and whispers to her.

Whitley: Do you trust them?

He asks, Penny pauses to think for a moment. Flynt, Neon, Ivori, and Kobalt had always been friendly to her and never let her down be it as friends or on missions. Neon, despite being the cause of this, had been her closest confidant when her crush had started and had been there when her heart was shattered. All that said this was still a very sensitive situation, one that could ruin them all if it got out. She looks over to Whitley and then at her comrades.

Penny: Flynt Coal, Neon Katt, Ivori Lace and Kobalt Co.

She addresses all of them with a firm tone and all four freeze, shocked as Penny had never called them out at once before.

Penny: What I am about to tell you is very personal information. Information that could be a detriment to the safety of myself, Whitley, and any other parties involved if not handled carefully.

She takes Whitley’s hand in hers and clasps it protectively.

Penny: I need to know none of you will ever let this leak, that this information will stay between the four of you and no one else.

Her voice is tense but unyielding, and the carefree bunch knows she's being painfully serious. The team look amongst each other and nod in the affirmative. There is an unusual air of seriousness around the group as they recognize the gravity of their circumstances, and return Penny’s determined gaze with equal resolve.

Flynt: We won’t tell a soul, I promise you.

Flynt responds with utmost sincerity eliciting a respectful nod from the female android. With one last glance to Whitley, who gives her a reassuring nod, Penny takes a deep breath before proceeding.

Penny: Okay, we’ll tell you.

Penny and Whitley take their time explaining how they met, fell in love, and began their secret relationship. It’s quite the story, a tale all four huntsmen become completely enthralled in, as they learn of the many trials, twists, and turns the couple faced in their quest of love. By the end, Flynt looks absolutely ashamed of himself, Neon is starting to whimper through tears, Ivori is dabbing at his misty eyes with a handkerchief, mascara tear stains ruining his foundation be damned, and Kobalt is facing away from everyone with his head pressed against the wall so no one can see him sobbing into his arm.

Whitley: We hope you understand why we had to be so careful.

Penny: We just wanted to be together, despite the risk. I know it sounds foolish and selfish but when I hear he snuck out all the way to Mantle to just to find me, I.. I just couldn’t hide my feelings anymore; I couldn’t turn him away.

Penny muses while staring lovingly at Whitley, who in turn cups her cheeks and gazes at her with the same admiration.

Whitley: And I couldn’t spend any day without you, the loneliness would have killed me.

Penny: No, it wouldn’t have.

Whitley: Yes, but honesty is a life without love even worth living?

He jests and she laughs, their usual brand of sarcasm and honesty bouncing off each other in perfect harmony. But the loving atmosphere is soon broken by Flynt.

Flynt: Alright! I think we get the gist of it! You two fell in love, but his daddy wasn’t about to let that happen, so you started sneaking around behind his back! That about it?!

He declares in a slightly flustered tone, his earlier ire replaced with awkwardness. He obviously feels terrible for the way he acted and is floundering to backtrack his attitude. Luckily Neon cuts in before he can spiral any worse.

Neon: That was the sweetest, saddest, most heartbreaking thing I ever heard! I can’t believe you hid your epic love story from me!

She whines, her tears bouncing with every word before her face settles into a pout.

Penny: Sorry, but you have a tendency to gossip, and I couldn't risk this becoming known.

Neon: I can keep a secret!

Penny: Would you have if I told you from the start?

Neon: Uh, well uhh…probably not.

Penny: And that’s why I didn’t tell you.

Neon: But still! If you’d told what the deal was from the start I could have-

The hum of loud vibration breaks the conversation, its Whitley’s scroll going off.

Whitley: Excuse me.

He steps away and pulls out the device to check his messages. It’s from Mary, apparently, Jacques had called for a driver, the unlucky duck being poor Godfrey, to come to get him early.

Mary: [I was roaming the halls and could hear him shouting on the line at Godfrey. Poor man looked like he was going to cry.]

She texted, Whitley grimaces as he reads the text then sighs, turning back to the group with a disgruntled look on his face.

Whitley: Apologizes but it looks like my night on the town is over.

Penny: What?!

She asks a little shaken with worry, this was the first Whitley had ever had to leave a date early. Whitley pats her shoulder softly before reaching down to pick up his discarded mask as he explains.

Whitley: Father’s coming home and in likely foul mood. I need to get back before him to batten down the hatches for the incoming tantrum.

He states, dusting off mask before dawning it again. Penny wants to protest but backdowns before uttering a word. This was the deal they made, the only way they could be together, she couldn’t act spoiled when things didn’t go her way. Knowing how much this must disappoint her Whitley pulls down his mask and gives Penny a soft kiss on the forehead.

Whitley: Sorry, Penny. I can make it back on my own you enjoy the rest of the night with your friends. I’ll call you when I get back.

Penny: No, I’d rather go with you to the station.

Whitley: You sure?

Penny: Yeah, this was fun, but I don’t want to stay without you. Besides I promised to be there whenever you come to and from Atlas.

Whitley: But it’s late.

Penny: Yes, and my promise did not come with time restrictions.

Whitley: Oh you!

He squished her cheeks, gods she just couldn’t help being so adorably earnest, could she? While the two lovebirds fawn at each other and attempt to figure out their transportation plan Flynt steps in to offer a helping hand.

Flynt: ‘Ey if you need a lift home, we can help you with that.

He stated, wrapping an arm around Kobalt’s shoulder and pulling him forward.

Flynt: Koco’s a damn good getaway driver with a mean set of wheels. He can get you up top in a hot minute. Right Koco?

Kobalt: Yeah! Just gimme an address and I’ll get you there no problem!

He exclaims chest puffed up with pride. Penny and Whitley share questioning glances, it would be easier to get a direct ride home for both and cut their commute time down considerably. It was a genuine kind offer so what would be the harm in taking it?

In the alley behind the jazz club, Kobalt walks the pair to a large van. The vehicle has a heavy coat of black paint decorated with blue hot rod flames and neon strip lights. It was clearly meant to be a cargo vehicle but had clearly been modded for speed in the most brazen ways possible. As if its owner had tried to convert it into a race car but couldn't find its humble origin.

Kobalt: Alright kiddies meet your lift for the night. This is my ride, my baby Blue Blaze!

Kobalt beams, proud to show off his beloved car. Meanwhile, the young couple have some reservations about this mode of transport.

Whitley: …. Wow.

Kobalt: I know right? Ain’t she a beauty?!

Penny: Isn’t this a standard-issue all-terrain delivery van?

Kobalt: Yeah! My old man knows a guy who runs a shipping yard, sold me one of his old vans for cheap.

Whitley: Is it even street-legal?

Kobalt: Of course! She’s old but still runs like a dream!

Whitley: Is it insured?

Kobalt: Well, yeah……mostly, for like most stuff. Come on! Don’t you have somewhere to be?

Whitley pauses, contemplating whether or not this is a really good idea, but time is of the essence, so he relents. They get in, Whitley and Penny in the back and Kobalt in the driver seat, everyone buckles u, Whitley gives him the address and they take off into the night. The drive is actually quite smooth as Kobalt takes his own route through Mantle’s streets, navigating like only a true city native can. Everything is fine and dandy until it’s time to go up.

Now most far-traveling vehicles that went to and from Atlas to Mantle and into the tundra had to be built with three modes to be driven. First was standard street mode, second was heavy terrain for trekking on the ice of the snow climate, and lastly, to reach Atlas was flight mode. Every road vehicle that traveled between the cities had a street and flight mode. Blue Blaze was no different.

As they’re driving Kobalt turns into a take-off road, a road that was little more than a public runaway for flying vehicles. Cars are spaced further apart than on other roads to accommodate flight gear, needed momentum, and clear passage. There was no turning or passing in the lanes only moving forward and into the sky. Once on the road, Kobalt engages the flight mode, and the van shifts, the windows and doors tighten shut, and the wings and thrusters emerge from their place in the thick undercarriage. Kobalt speeds up, going with the flow of traffic, a fiat that necessitated Atlas and Mantle driver’s licenses class B and above to have the hardest driver’s proficiency test of all four kingdoms. The van shifts and hops as it starts to gain some air.

Whitley, having never flown in such a small craft, starts to get nervous. His stomach drops as he second guesses if this damn thing can even make it off the ground! Penny, seeing his uneasiness, reaches out and holds his hand, clasping it gently and giving him as sweet smile when he looks up once he feels her touch. This distracts him as take off is emanate.

Kobalt: Hold on tight! We’re going up!!!

Kobalt howlers, the moment he feels that all the wheels are on the ground he guns the thrusters and they take off from the runway road into the sky!

Whitley grabs onto Penny tight as he feels the break of the sound barrier closer than ever before! His body pushed back into the seat from the force of the lift-off makes him flinch and close his eyes tight!

He doesn’t open them again until the ride smooths out. When they hit a coursing altitude and the turbulence has calmed down Whitley takes a peek and finds Penny still holding his hand calmly. She was completely unbothered by the lightness under their feet and the hum of air rushing around the outside of the van. Looking past her and out the window Whitley sees something incredible.

From the angle they were ascending, he could see the city Mantle below, parts of the underside of Altas, the tundra around both, and the starry sky. It was an alien experience, seeing the place he’d lived in all his life from this point of view. He could see some of the inner workings of the structures that were usually unseen in the higher metropolis and the totality of the lower city. All the lights, towers, and buildings of the grounded city and the maze-like layout of its streets. And the mountains, being above one would never know just how enormous and intimidating they really were. But here as they go up Whitley can see just how massive the tundra surrounding the territory was as even the smaller of them were as tall as Mantle’s highest building and the largest could easily press at the bottom of Atlas if not pierce through it. The darkness of the night sky only heightens the depth of the world around him, stars twinkling in the distance further than anyone could ever reach.

For a moment Whitley truly understands how small he is compared to the grandness of the frozen kingdom and how little he has really seen of any part of the world he was born in, even in his own birthplace.

The majesty of it has him so encapsulated Whitley continues to stare out the window until it’s time for the landing.

The jolt of the van bucking back onto solid ground breaks him from his trance, his grip on Penny’s hand tightening as he jolts back back to reality from the shift in gravity. Penny doesn’t mind it and holds onto him as the van zips onto Atlas’s streets. The van weaves and rolls through back streets and shortcuts Whitley had never been down before, Kobalt commanding the vehicle with surprising expertise. It was oddly thrilling, like being in a scene out of a coming-of-age movie.

A getaway driver is making great time to get the male lead home after a night of mischief, the female lead coming along out of gentle concern and sweet stubbornness. The outlandishness of it all was enough to make Whitley grin!

Had he ever had this much fun in one night before?

Whitley: Is this what they call the thrill of youth? I could get used to it.

He muses, his nerves fully relaxed as they continue on towards the manor. When they’re just about forty yards from the monument estate Whitley gets up from his seat and taps Kobalt’s shoulder.

Whitley: Pull over here, I’ll walk the rest of the way.

Kobalt nods and parks the van. When the vehicle comes to a complete stop Whitley unbuckles his seatbelt, rushing to get out. But turns around before his feet can touch the ground and plants a quick kiss on Penny’s cheek.

Whitley: I’ll call you tomorrow, Good night my sweet.

He whispers, playfully winking before hopping out of the van and making a dash for the manor. Penny closes the van door behind him and watches him from the window. Instead of walking through the front door Whitley seemingly disappears into the estate after running out of her field of view.

Confused at where he’s gone, Penny texts Whitley to see if he’s made it in alright and replies yes. She asks how and he replays cheekily with-

Whitley: [That’s my little secret. At least, for now]

Penny giggles at the message and writes back a good night before giving the all-clear to head back.

She can’t help but smile, this night had been amazing in so many ways. Even though their relationship was discovered the news was received positively by most. Sure there were some bumps here and there and some loose ends to tie up with her friends, Neon was definitely going to bug her about this for the next week at the least, but overall this had been the best outcome.

So on their way back into the city and Penny spots a familiar white limousine, she doesn’t feel the nervousness she normally would.

A bastard businessman would be coming home to a perfectly quiet house, his heir “sleeping” peacefully in his bed just as he had expected.

The perfect crime without a trace of evidence.

At least for the act they thought would be the end of them.

[supportingfire]

i gotta say. it's been a not so great start to the year for me. and tbh i'm old enough to know the "new year" doesn't dictate shit, it's just a floating rock's position in front of the sun in the universe and you can start or stop anything at any time, but still. losing my grandmother has genuinely fucked me up in very subtle ways, i see her everywhere and in everything and i miss her very, very much. i am also growing increasingly more frustrated with my job, realizing after 3 years with the company i have little to show for it aside from a boosted resume. and recently i dropped a substantial amount of money on my car to get some things fixed in the hopes i can take it with me when i move (finally) in with my partner, only for it to shit the bed TODAY less than two weeks later. the money i've been desperately squirreling away is being eaten in to before i can do shit, and i feel as though i have not gotten ahead once since the year started. i'm afraid i won't meet my goals thru no fault of my own.

and i love to write, i've been working on a personal non-fiction in my spare time as well as rping but even that is becoming harder. i feel overbearing, sometimes. or "too much." the things i want to respond to aren't available, or the things i have to respond to aren't clicking. and i'm a very very firm believer in the fact that rp is always just for fun, it's a hobby, and if you try to force it, you defeat the purpose of the hobby in the first place so i never force anything, but then i feel bad for not doing anything. i'm sure we all fall into that cycle. and i'm afraid of coming off as aloof or invasive, i can be both at the same time and it's fucking dumb.

idk what this was for other than to vent. i don't really have many outlets to do that. i appreciate any who read this far. don't feel obligated to respond, this is mostly here to air out my woes for the last month or so. i'll be fine. it's just a low point, i'm due for a high any day now hahah.

[just-your-average-cryptid]

Back in fifth grade I and a few other students were told that we could skip over sixth grade math and jump into seventh when we got to middle school. Most of us were pretty jazzed about it - and why wouldn’t we be? We could opt out of a whole class, we were smart enough to move ahead, to take on bigger challenges and show we could handle them. To a 10 year old, that’s pretty fluffing cool. I said yes to that, and to skipping again into algebra 1 the next year. By the end of sophomore year I’d already filled my math credit requirements and could skip out of math entirely.

Which I did.

Because I could not force myself to continue.

See, the thing about advanced classes is that they tend to assume you just “get” things. After all, that’s how you got there, right? You just “got” the regular classes, it was so easy. You didn’t even need to study. (So you never learned how.) You didn’t need help. (So you rarely dared to ask for it.) You could take on harder classes, bigger tasks. (You never learned to say no.)

You were elevated above your peers, separated, idolized. You weren’t just a kid anymore- you were a smart kid.

You were gifted. 

And that came with expectations.

You were pushed to take more advanced classes, as many and as hard as possible, because that looks great for colleges. In fact, you should dual enroll with a college, get used to the format and show you can manage all that work. You have a full high school schedule and college course load? You must be so good at time management! (I’m so drained. I barely have time outside of work. I can’t go out with my friends. I hardly have friends.)

It’s so great that you’ve kept your grades up all these years! Don’t slack off, keep up the good work! Colleges want to see you apply yourself, so remember to volunteer and join clubs too! You’re so smart, you’re sure to go far in life! (I can’t fail. I can’t lose the one good thing about me. Everyone wants me to succeed. I have to succeed. I’m not supposed to fail.)

Wow, you’ll have no trouble getting into a top college with your record! What are you going for? Lawyer? Biologist? Doctor?

…oh. Well, that’s nice and all, but isn’t that too simple for you? You’ve got the brains and skills for a high-paying job in a challenging field, why do you want to be that? (Because it’s my future. Because I’m allowed to choose my fate. Because I don’t want to be those things. Because I actually enjoy this.)

The problem with being called gifted isn’t “woe is me, I was told I’m special and now I’m not.”

The problem with being called gifted is that it puts you on a pedestal, dumps praise upon you, holds you up as the future of society… until you stop fitting in their box.

Until you crack under the pressure.

Until you defy the destiny they assign you.

The gifted label makes “smart” your identity. You’re better than the other kids, you’re smarter, you’re more capable, you’re practically an adult already! So mature, so reasonable… so quiet.

But you’re still just a kid.

And when you’ve been shot to the top, the only way left…

Is down.

And you know what happens to the regular kids. You’ve been hearing the comparisons your whole life.

You’ll do anything to avoid being the one demeaned in that conversation.

So you do your work.

You get through both weeks of finals.

(You have your first anxiety attack at 13.)

You watch your grades like a hawk.

You take on honors and AP and college classes all at once.

You build up your academic resume.

(Because that’s what matters, right?)

You work through drained motivation.

You work through the burnout.

You work through the depression.

You work

and work

and work

and work

until you can collapse into the couch and scroll through your phone the rest of the day. It’s the only thing you have energy left for.

Your books go unread.

Games stay unfinished.

Projects collect dust.

Relationships strain.

But you can’t fail.

You’re not supposed to fail.

After all, you’re gifted, right?

[f1]

Mark Webber insists Oscar Piastri isn't feeling any pressure on the eve of his first Australian GP

Mark Webber insists Oscar Piastri isn't feeling any pressure on the eve of his first Australian GP and 'doesn't need any advice' ahead of his Melbourne debut despite McLaren's woes By Dan Cancian For Daily Mail Australia Published: 11:06 EDT, 29 March 2023 | Updated: 11:06 EDT, 29 March 2023 Mark Webber believes Oscar Piastri doesn't need any advice ahead of his Australian Grand Prix debut, despite a difficult start to his first season in Formula 1. The 21-year-old replaced Daniel Ricciardo at McLaren after spending last season as the reserve driver for Alpine and arrives at Albert Park on the back of two challenging races. Having retired in Bahrain in the season opener due to electrical issues, Piastri finished 15th in Saudi Arabia as McLaren's struggles continued. But Webber insisted the bumpy start to his Formula 1's career would not dampen the young Melbournian's spirit ahead of his home Grand Prix.  'It’s a tremendous moment for him to race here,' Webber told News Corp. 'He’s looking forward to it, he is very relaxed.  Mark Webber believes Oscar Piastri doesn't need any advice ahead of his first Australian Grand Prix at Albert Park in Melbourne this weekend  The young Australian has endured a difficult start to his rookie season in Formula 1 'It’s one race of 23 on the calendar, it’s a home race, of course, but he is looking forward to getting the paddock and starting work.' Webber, who manages Piastri, finished sixth in Melbourne in his Formula 1 debut and went on to make 215 starts in the sport between 2002 and 2013. Piastri's career is in its infancy, but Webber is confident the young gun doesn't need any advice from him. 'I don’t think [he is feeling extra pressure],' he said.   'Once the helmet is on and he’s in the car and he’s driving around the track, he wants a result at every single circuit around the world, no matter if it’s Bahrain, or Saudi [Arabia] or here. 'He doesn’t need any [advice from me]. He is very much looking forward to the weekend.' A world champion in Formula 2 and Formula 3 in 2020 and 2021, Piastri has long been considered one of Formula 1's rising stars. But he was eager to keep expectations in check ahead of his debut season, warning it could time for him to get used of the demands of Formula 1 after spending last season as the reserve driver for Alpine.  His caution appears to have been justified, albeit through no fault of his own as McLaren have been badly off the pace in the first two outings. 'He has had so long out. It just shows you that it is still even hard to take now, obviously the gap that he had,' Webber added.  'So, he is getting back up to speed and learning as much as he can.'  Piastri retired in the season opener in Bahrain and finished 15th in Saudi Arabia Webber finished fifth in his Formula 1 debut in Melbourne and was allowed to stand on the podium, much to the delight of the Aussie fans Earlier this week, Alan Jones was even more bullish about Piastri's prospects and backed him to become a world champion. Since Jones claimed the world title in 1980 no other Australian has finished top of the drivers standings, but the 76-year-old is confident Piastri can emulate his triumph.  'I think he can go on to be world champion,' Jones told the Herald Sun on Saturday. 'Every now and again someone comes along that has got an enormous amount of talent and I reckon he is one of those sorts of people.' Share or comment on this article: Mark Webber insists Oscar Piastri isn't feeling any pressure on the eve of his first Australian GP via Formula One | Mail Online https://www.dailymail.co.uk?ns_mchannel=rss&ns_campaign=1490&ito=1490

[unfogged-arc]

@coveitous sent: five times angered:      ( five times the sender made the receiver angry ) / victor n koty

ONE. "Get up." It's not breaking in if they have a key, right? Granted, Victor might not know they have a key, but he does now. Koty gives his still form a gentle but firm kick to what they think is his ass. "Enough of your mopey woe is me bullshit." They grab the blanket and pulls it off of him. "Seriously, man, you left me to handle the newbies on my own for three days, do you know how fucked that is? We all have problems, we're all fucked up, now get up, get a shower, and I'm making you lunch." They're not actually mad, not really, but Koty is annoyed at Victor and they want him to know it.

TWO. "I am not a child, Victor." Koty nearly hisses the words at him, and they slap away the hand that is trying to look at the cut on their cheek. "You do not get to treat me like one of your wounded little birds that needs protected and fixing." Sure, their cheek is bleeding and they're in a stupid amount of pain, but Dakota isn't going to let Victor treat them like they're incapable of doing anything themselves. "You're not the knight in shining armor everything thinks you are."

THREE. "Oh, come on! I totally won that one! You cheated, dude." Can Dakota prove them? Nope, not at all, but going by Victor's shit-eating grin and nonchalance, they're pretty sure he did. How he managed to get an extra thirty points, they have no idea. Koty crosses their arms over their chest, and pouts like a petulant child. "I want a rematch, right after we get another drink." It's the third time they've lost in a row, and it's beginning to peeve them off.

FOUR. There's one thing that Victor and Koty do together every week –– that's watch their favorite show together. They never watch it without the other, even rewatches, because it just doesn't feel right. But when Dakota's ten minutes late and walks in on Victor watching it without them, there's an immature and nonsensical anger that rises up in them and they know it. "The fuck?" Koty's not going to leave, but instead rage watch with him and not share any of the popcorn.

FIVE. "You don't get to tell us not to do something and then you go ahead and do it." Dakota's sitting next to him at the hospital, their worry slowly seeping away as Victor wakes up. "You don't get to try to prove your ability to save people and then nearly kill yourself in the process. That's not how this shit works. You have people who care about you, you have people who rely on you." They take a pause and a deep breath before getting up. "I can't watch you get hurt again, Victor." Without another word, Koty leaves the room so as not to let their anger out any more. They did leave behind all their things, so hopefully Victor will know they intend on coming back.

[christiaano]

Embracing the RPG: Levelling Up in Life

Life has a funny way of feeling like a whirlwind of events, emotions, and experiences. Lately, I've embraced the idea of approaching it like an RPG - a grand adventure with side quests, missions, and the ever-present goal of leveling up. This week has been no exception, filled with both triumphs and challenges, moments of gratitude and lessons learned.

Side Quests and Missions

My days have been a mix of professional and personal endeavors, each with its unique set of challenges and rewards. From setting up a new "Life RPG" system in Notion to navigating the complexities of work projects, I've been juggling multiple quests at once. Some highlights include:

Work: Tackling projects kept me busy. I'm learning the importance of over-communication and aligning with everyone involved before sending critical messages.

Gaming: A bit of Destiny 2 and Catan offered moments of fun and relaxation, although the lack of community for certain game modes was a bit disappointing.

Personal Life: Celebrating with friends, enjoying a quiet dinner with my wife, and even watching an old favorite movie (Constantine) provided much-needed balance.

Leveling Up

One of the most exciting aspects of this "Life RPG" approach is the visibility of progress. I'm seeing growth in different areas of my life, and it's incredibly motivating. This week, I felt particularly grateful for:

A Productive Mindset: Tackling both professional and personal tasks with focus and intention has been rewarding.

Positive Feedback: Receiving good feedback on my work is always encouraging.

Employment: In today's job market, I'm truly thankful for my current position.

Quality Time: Spending a calm Saturday with my wife and friends was a highlight.

Small Wins: Even something as simple as getting an updated logo for a project feels like progress.

Lessons Learned

Every day brings new insights and lessons, and this week was no exception. A few key takeaways include:

The Importance of Communication: Whether it's at work or in personal relationships, over-communicating is often better than under-communicating.

The Power of Verification: Always double-check information, especially when it's critical.

Strategic Thinking: Even in games like Catan, strategy and planning can lead to success.

Insurance Woes: The realization that my previous accident might affect my car insurance coverage was frustrating, highlighting the importance of understanding insurance policies.

Reflections

This week has been a mix of highs and lows, but overall, I'm feeling energized and optimistic. The "Life RPG" approach is helping me visualize my progress and stay motivated, even when faced with challenges. A few key reflections:

The Value of Different Journaling Methods: I've tried various journaling techniques over the years, but the RPG approach is unique in its ability to show growth across different life aspects.

The Importance of Confidence: I need to work on being more confident, especially in professional settings.

Gratitude for Answered Prayers: Sometimes things work out in unexpected ways, and I'm grateful for the positive turn of events regarding work and personal plans.

Building Connections: Cultivating professional relationships is always valuable for personal and career growth.

Looking Ahead

As I continue on this grand adventure called life, I'm excited to see what new quests, challenges, and opportunities await. With each step, I'm leveling up, growing stronger, and gaining wisdom. And while there will undoubtedly be setbacks along the way, I'm confident that I have the tools and mindset to navigate them.

Until next time, keep playing the game of life and remember to enjoy the journey!

[lindasipsandspills]

I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki

by Baek Se-Hee

General information

Edition:

Translated by Anton Hur in 2022 under Bloomsbury Publishing.

Author:

Born in 1990, Baek Se-hee studied creative writing in university before working for five years at a publishing house. For ten years, she received psychiatric treatment for dysthymia (persistent mild depression), which became the subject of her essays, and then I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki, books one and two. Her favorite food is tteokbokki, and she lives with her rescue dog Jaram. (excerpt from bloomsbury.com)

Synopsis (via goodreads):

PSYCHIATRIST: So how can I help you? ME: I don’t know, I’m—what’s the word—depressed? Do I have to go into detail? Baek Sehee is a successful young social media director at a publishing house when she begins seeing a psychiatrist about her—what to call it?—depression? She feels persistently low, anxious, endlessly self-doubting, but also highly judgmental of others. She hides her feelings well at work and with friends; adept at performing the calmness, even ease, her lifestyle demands. The effort is exhausting, overwhelming, and keeps her from forming deep relationships. This can't be normal. But if she's so hopeless, why can she always summon a yen for her favorite street food: the hot, spicy rice cake, tteokbokki? Is this just what life is like? Recording her dialogues with her psychiatrist over a 12-week period, Baek begins to disentangle the feedback loops, knee-jerk reactions, and harmful behaviors that keep her locked in a cycle of self-abuse. Part memoir, part self-help book, I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki is a book to keep close and to reach for in times of darkness. It will appeal to anyone who has ever felt alone or unjustified in their everyday despair.

Page Count:

192 pages (eBook-version).

Trigger warnings:

Depression, co-dependency, alcoholism, obesity (?), South-Korean conservative thinking.

Initial thoughts post-read (spoilers ahead):

First off, I need to preface some points:

I did not choose this book based on any recommendations from websites, bookshops, or fellow readers.

I did not check any reviews while reading and only after I was done, did I open them on this particular book (and was surprised at the negative reviews).

The book did not give me a new outlook on life; it just recounted the things I have been working on or seeing other people struggle with.

Okay, now to the actual review:

What a refreshing way of discussing therapy as a concept and how it feels to be inside an office, talking about whatever is troubling you. Being a patient myself, I had to smile sometimes, seeing as I related to some passages and was reminded of what my therapist had advised me on.

That being said, I couldn't relate much to our narrator. Her problems and what she was working through differ strongly from what my woes are, but I did catch myself sometimes being surprised at how accurate to mine they were: love being conditional, the difference between financial and mental independence, the need to "become a robot," an idealized version of oneself that seems unattainable, to name a few. It's definitely not in the same way, but it was similar enough that I kept thinking, "So I am not alone in this, huh?" It was comforting.

So then why do people see this book so critically? My guess is that people expected the créme de la créme - a proper self-help book, a book to end depression, a book to help someone get out of it and not needing to go to therapy, perhaps. But let me tell you one thing: it is never that easy. You'd have to be naive to think this would in any way substitute going to therapy, let alone help you "get rid of mental illness." How people were unproductively comparing themselves with the narrator's problems, because they themselves are going through mental struggles as well, was honestly just laughable. Just as every flower head is different, every brain is different. You can't just make one assumption and expect everyone to feel the same way about it. The author never signaled that her problems were comparable with someone who is going through forceful suicidal thoughts. But her self-hatred and self-deprecation were serious, and in my opinion warranted the medication. Just because she made the steps other people are afraid to take, doesn't mean you get to belittle other people's mental illness and compare it to your own in such a toxic manner. Just my two cents.

All in all, I did think about some people I would recommend this to. But since I am not close enough to warrant it as a recommendation to these people, I'll just leave this review here for others to see and become interested on their own.

Quotes:

I think you tend to focus too much on your ideals and pressure yourself by thinking 'I have to be this kind of person!' Even when those ideals are, in fact, taken from someone else and not from your own thoughts and experiences.

I'd like you not to give too much credit to what people say about you. The moment you set out to be more empathic is the moment it becomes a chore. That would result in your empathy decreasing, if anything.

But the idea that I'm actually normal is somehow even more weird to me. It makes me think I'm just being full of myself.

If you have unrealistically high standards, you will forever be creating reasons to see yourself as inadequat, as someone who needs endless improvement.

I'm usually so tense during interactions that I have trouble remembering what was said.

You've backed yourself into a corner and made yourself choose between black or white. Whether to see a person or not, whether to be best friends with them or never speak to them again. You either lash out or endure. The only choices you have are yes and no, and there is no middle ground.

[tsukimefuku]

no more patience behind the wheels ✦ kiyotaka ijichi

summary: your friend ijichi has become the unwilling listener to all your woes, and it is definitely taking a toll on him, so he decided to take the matters into his own hands and try to solve your communication problems for you.

cw: platonic/friendship ijichi x reader, comedy, fluff, very suggestive regarding reader and someone else.

wc: 850ish

notes etc.: this poor, poor man. somebody please give him some time off, he truly needs it.

✦ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist

To say Ijichi's life was turned upside down on an almost daily basis due to sorcerer's shenanigans would be an understatement. He saw himself constantly having to deal with tomfoolery, being jumbled around by you all, as he tried to do his job the best he could.

But for the past few weeks, you, especially, had become absolutely insufferable, to say the least. 

The poor man had lost count on how many times you called asking for him to help you back to your house after getting hammered at the bar. You were feeling miserable, and with good reason after some shit went down in your life, but goddammit woman, get a grip.

Not only that, but the way you were always on and on about how you loved Nanami, and how things were going to end up terribly, and how you had tried before and it didn't work out, yadda yadda was really wearing Ijichi down.

At first, it was a little jarring for him to hear you speak so casually and in such detail about your personal life completely unprompted. Then, it was actually fun hearing your love life ramblings, it felt like a soap opera — the entire story of how you managed to 'screw up two shots at happiness', in your own words (he did not agree, but made no comment on the matter). But now, it was tiring, especially due to the fact that you seemingly forgot every occasion you poured your heart out in his ears.

So, of course, every time he picked you up to drag you back home, it was the same whining.

Every. Damn. Time.

You were about to become his 13th reason.

Ijichi honestly felt like he'd rather face a curse in your place than having to hear that wailing yet again, so he decided to take the matters into his own hands.

"Nanami-san, permission to speak freely for one minute" he said, voice uncharacteristically steady, as he looked at Nanami — whom he had just picked up from a mission — through the rearview mirror.

Ijichi's braveness was a byproduct of his own desperation.

Last night, after your endless ramble about your love life failures, you managed to ruin a perfectly good pair of shoes with vomiting.

His poor shoes.

Nanami had his arms crossed over his chest, and lifted an eyebrow after hearing those words, looking at the assistant in return.

"What would it be about?" the sorcerer curiously inquired, given that Ijichi was rarely — if ever — the type of person to ask for these kinds of things.

"Personal matters. Some guidance is... needed." 

Nanami sighed. "I don't think that would be very appropriate during work hours, Ijichi."

"Please," Ijichi said, his voice taken by some kind of underlying misery, which Nanami noticed. 

He relaxed his shoulders and nodded.

"Fine, go ahead."

"Nanami-san, do you love her? Do you want to be with her?" Ijichi blurted out.

Nanami was immediately taken aback in a mixture of shock and surprise, tensing up his muscles.

"Well, that's a highly inappropriate question to-"

"Nanami-san, she has been calling me to pick her up at the bar these past few weeks, and every time she's completely hammered and rambles about many things, more specifically, how much she loves you, and everything that has happened," Ijichi interjected, still driven by anguish with a knuckle-white grip on the steering wheel.

He'd surely resign his duties if he had to listen to your moping one more time.

"Against my will, I have been completely made aware in excruciating detail about everything, over and over again, and she won't stop. Please, I can't hear these same stories another time. I am begging, do something about it. She is truly fond of you, to say the least."

"... Everything?"

"Everything," Ijichi confirmed.

They were both silent for a moment, and Ijichi was slowly coming back to Earth, realizing that, in his desperation, he had basically just scolded Mr. Mature, Nanami Kento.

I'm done for.

"Ijichi-san" Nanami began in his characteristic impassive tone. Ijichi immediately gulped, bullets of sweat starting to prickle on his skin.

"Y-yes?" He whimpered, involuntarily making himself smaller in his driver's seat.

"Your minute is up," Nanami concluded, turning his face to look outside the window, seemingly done speaking.

Ijichi sighed with bated relief, until he heard Nanami's voice again.

"I'll handle her. Thanks for informing me," the ratio sorcerer said impassively, and the assistant thought, for a moment, that he saw through the rearview mirror a content smile flash on Nanami's face.

Finally, Ijichi thought, sighing, as he began moving the car. Tomorrow I'm getting another pair of shoes.

... Wait a second, did Nanami-san just say he'd... 'handle'... her...?

Realizing it, Ijichi blushed violently, and coughed a few times as he stopped by a red light.

"Is everything alright?" Nanami inquired.

"Y-yes. J-just fine, nothing's wrong," the assistant stuttered, more embarrassed than he had ever been in his entire existence, ready to shove his head in a hole on the ground, realizing what his request — please do something about it — actually sounded like.

Maybe this thorough embarrassment was even worse than listening to your gibberish, after all.

Tag-list: @marikuchanxo

Also sorry marikuchanxo this took me so long to post 😅

[doved-icelebrity]

The marvelous research (treesearch perhaps…) done by Suzanne Simard has illuminated my understanding of the forest-contained universe. Revealing the communication systems and collaborative efforts put into place by trees, for trees, feels akin to discovering a secret code within the natural world. The idea that trees have the knowledge, ability, and community structures allowing them to share and support among each other, without the everyday hubbub of humankind, is deeply inspirational. What elegant examples of interconnection they really are. Simard conducted research that illustrated the complexity of tree systems, introducing them as connected beings. They do not stand alone as they may seem, their root system conducts exchanges and chemical based conversations among their entire tree neighborhood.

Illustrating tree cooperation and connection in this way brings a new level of understanding to how being of all kind may survive and thrive best. Relationships can be painted as symbiotic, harmonious, supportive frameworks. Nothing and nobody functions best when entirely isolated, attempting to get ahead and/or leave their community behind due to perceived uselessness. I was deeply struck by the introduction of the character “Mother Tree”. Selfless, sustaining, nurturing beams of beauty living among us. These Mother Trees can teach civilization so very much. Prioritization of the many over the few.

Human consciousness further delving into the deep natural world, as exhibited in popular culture examples like “Ted Lasso”, display an increasing awareness of nature as well as a growing desire to connect. Connection with the world around us, connection with others, connection with our deeper selves. All of these concepts inform each other, and the implication of this being a momentum-gaining endeavor brings a steady stream of hope. As the world around us presents us with newly complex catastrophes, we must gain understanding and motivation to enact positive change. We must pay closer attention to the delicate, divine, disintegrating world around us. Trees can teach us about how to pay attention, work together, and communicate through meaningful action.

A quote that spoke to my soul from this week’s post was the highlighted piece from Suzanne Simard herself. “Trees live amid an orchestra of organisms. Whispering, gossiping, eavesdropping, all working together in symphonic harmony. Recent research shows that trees are in constant communication with one another through an underground biological neural network made of mycorrhizal fungi.” Likening nature to a symphony is a glorious metaphor. I am picturing trees all holding hands or passing notes or sharing pieces of their meals. It is a very poetic familial scene.

I have been gaining sweet memories beneath trees all my life. Whether in the Pennsylvanian woods of my childhood or at Central Park after an uptown appointment, I feel that walking somewhere and seeing a towering tree is like recognizing a dear friend. Someone you can sit with a while, to give you a place to rest, shade from your daily woes, something beautiful to gaze upon.. Seeing these friends change through the seasons, as I change, provides a deep pool of understanding to sink within. My favorite tree growing up was behind my house, I would sit beneath her and read endless poetry, growing up and outwards, alongside her.

My Digital Detox experience and my continuing practice of virtual detoxification consistently pulls me towards nature. Firstly, I am looking up, I am seeing what’s around me. I am listening to the wind rustle the leaves, the sounds of the city bustling around me. I am smelling the warm grass and the gentle flowers. It is a sensory exploration chamber.

[electricpressurecookersrevolu]

Effortless Cooking with Geek Robocook Electric Pressure Cooker: Your Gateway to Stress-Free Meals

In today's fast-paced world, the last thing you want to worry about is spending hours in the kitchen preparing elaborate meals. Fortunately, with the right kitchen companion, cooking can be a breeze, allowing you to enjoy delicious, homemade meals with minimal effort. Enter Geek Robocook Electric Pressure Cooker—a versatile and user-friendly appliance that takes the stress out of meal preparation. In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore why Geek Robocook is the best option for busy individuals and families who crave effortless cooking without sacrificing taste or quality.

The Effortlessness Advantage of Geek Robocook

Geek Robocook is designed to simplify meal preparation and streamline your cooking experience. Here's how it effortlessly takes the hassle out of cooking:

1. Intuitive One-Touch Operation: With Geek Robocook's intuitive interface and one-touch operation, cooking has never been easier. Simply select your desired cooking program, add your ingredients, and let Geek Robocook do the rest. Whether you're cooking a hearty soup, tender meat, or fluffy rice, Geek Robocook's preset programs ensure perfect results every time, with minimal effort required on your part.

2. Set-and-Forget Convenience: One of the greatest benefits of Geek Robocook is its set-and-forget functionality. Once you've added your ingredients and selected your desired cooking program, you can walk away and attend to other tasks while Geek Robocook works its magic. Whether you're catching up on work, spending time with family, or simply relaxing, you can trust that Geek Robocook will take care of dinner for you, allowing you to enjoy stress-free cooking without constant supervision.

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Real User Experiences: From Kitchen Woes to Culinary Success

But don't just take our word for it—let's hear from some satisfied users who have experienced the effortless cooking benefits of Geek Robocook firsthand:

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Safety and Convenience: Cooking Made Easy

In addition to its effortless cooking benefits, Geek Robocook prioritizes safety and convenience, making it an ideal choice for busy individuals and families. With its advanced safety features, such as pressure release valves and lid lock detection, you can cook with confidence, knowing that your safety is always a top priority. Plus, with its compact design and easy-to-store accessories, Geek Robocook fits seamlessly into any kitchen space, making it a versatile and convenient addition to your culinary arsenal.

Environmental Consciousness: Cooking with Efficiency

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Conclusion: Effortless Cooking, Unmatched Convenience

In conclusion, Geek Robocook Electric Pressure Cooker is not just a kitchen appliance—it's a gateway to effortless cooking and unmatched convenience. With its intuitive operation, set-and-forget convenience, and easy cleanup, Geek Robocook simplifies meal preparation and empowers you to enjoy delicious, homemade meals with minimal effort. Ready to experience the joy of stress-free cooking? Visit the Geek Robocook website today to learn more and discover why Geek Robocook is the best option for your kitchen. Join the ranks of satisfied customers who have embraced the effortless cooking benefits of Geek Robocook and transformed their cooking experience for the better.

[ass-sassafras]

Chronic pain tumbleros: do you find that people try to gatekeep their sympathy even if you didn't ask them for any?

Like they'll ask if you've tried xy or z or they'll make a suggestion that they think is a great idea because they saw some guy on YouTube talking about it. And if you've either tried it in the past or you know from your experiences that it won't work, they act all offended because they're just trying to help. "I can't believe you're going to waste thousands of dollars on seeing a doctor but you won't try this one little thing that might fix everything! You don't know until you try!"

And it's like, the only way I've been able to have any kind of bowel movements in weeks are by taking stool softeners and strong laxatives, and it always comes out tiny, so that tells me there's a blockage of some kind along the way. Maybe it's a tumor, maybe it's something else, idk. So taking a strong fiber supplement to bulk up my stools not only won't work, it actually scares me because what if it all stops moving completely?

Like a dumbass I went ahead and tried the fiber stuff and guess what? 2 days now, no BMs but my belly is so swollen my pants don't fit and I look 4 months pregnant. Oh, and the pain is worse. But at least I made someone feel better about themselves by trying their suggestion.

This is why I don't like being close to people. They make your issues all about them. They want to fix you and if you don't let them or it doesn't work, their ego takes a hit and it's boo hoo, I just wanted to help. Woe is me.

Jesus Christ I'm tired