#i should save this somewhere it goes hard

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: A chat with a stranger has your world turning on its axis as you try to navigate your relationship with Joel.

Warnings: Violence, mentions of SA (not depicted in detail) Language, death.

Word Count: 3.6k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Useless. It was a certain funny feeling that had always lurked at the back of your mind. 

Everything that’d ever happened to you, be it falling off your bike and scraping your knees or screwing up your relationship with Joel, you were utterly useless. 

Even now as you stared at the clinic doors you felt it. Useless. Worthless. Empty. 

“Y’okay?” 

“Fine.” 

Joel led the way into the clinic. Down a hall, a right, then a left, and then the wood of an old door was staring back at you. 

“Dr. Hill said she was real hostile to Tommy last night.” Joel says softly, “I’ll be right outside if something goes wrong.” 

You nod and take a deep breath. Pushing the door open to reveal the woman that had become the talk of the town. 

The woman was still tied to the small cot the clinic room held. Both skinny arms were tied to one of the bedposts with a piece of rope. 

“Get out.” She hisses, refusing to look at you 

Your eyes sweep over what isn’t being obscured by the blankets that cover her lower half. Long arms poke out of the paper-thin hospital gown Dr. Hill must’ve given her. Discolored bruises litter the skin making it look ugly and thin. Her face, which should’ve had the youthful glow of a woman in her mid-twenties, was gaunt and grey with sickness. 

“Dr. Hill said she was runnin’ a real bad fever, don’t get too close to her in case she’s contagious.”  

Joel’s warning filled your mind as you gestured to a seat about five feet away from the bed, 

“Mind if I sit?” 

The woman, Lana, didn’t speak or make a motion to stop you as you settled into the stiff wooden chair, a small oof leaving your lips when one of your knees popped, you were feeling your 44 years of life right now. 

Lana watches you cautiously. If she were untied, you’re sure she might bolt for the door and sprint out of the clinic. She reminded you of a skittish deer. The look on her face was one you knew well. It was a look you’d worn for weeks so many years ago, one that only one man could pull from a woman. 

Adam. The joining link between the two of you. Even now, a day after his death you shiver like he’s here in the room, staring at you. If you squint hard enough you might see his face painted on the wall, looking at you with that lopsided smirk he often wore when things went his way. 

You wondered how long she’d spent with him. Was it more time than you? Less? How did he treat her? Did he pretend to save her from his comrades? Was The Walrus still breathing somewhere on this Earth? 

The scars that hide under your shirt threaten to burn right through the warm fabric. A sweat breaks out on your skin. Fuck, this was ridiculous. You wanted to leave and go home. 

You take a deep breath, you don’t want to do this. Talking to this stranger, what good could you possibly do? You were always screwing up, why should this be any different? 

You sit in silence, staring at the way the paint is peeling on the wall across from you. Perhaps you could just lie to Dr. Hill and say this lady rejected you too. The older doc wasn’t even here, how would he know if you didn’t try to “connect” with Lana? 

“Who’re you?” 

Lana makes the first move, breaking the silence that you’d been plotting to keep. 

You blink dumbly, you hadn’t expected this. Stuttering out your name you look at her. She has bright blue eyes with tangled blonde hair to match. Long lashes flutter as she stares back, saying her own name quietly. 

“What happened to the man with the mustache?” 

Tommy. He was probably currently across the clinic probably cooing at his new baby and helping Maria wobble her way to the bathroom. 

“He’s not important right now.” You say, deciding not to tell her about something she didn’t need to know. 

She scoffs, shifting beneath her blankets, “So are you the boss then? Sent him in first to get information from me?” 

Your face remains neutral, in what world would you be running Jackson? Surely she didn’t think you were that kind of person. 

“No. I’m not the boss. There isn’t actually one person in charge here at all.” You say 

She shakes her head in disbelief, “There is always someone in charge. Just let me meet him.”  

You explain how Jackson functions to her, its council, how you all share things with each other, trading amongst yourselves. Lana listens intently, you can tell she's impressed by the picture you paint in her head. 

“How do I know you’re not lying?” She asks warily

“You don’t.” You respond, “Just have to trust me.” 

Her gaze drops to her lap and winces when her wrists twist a bit in her binds. 

“Trusting people is dangerous.” 

You nod in agreement, you know that the last time you’d fully trusted a stranger you’d left with more trauma than you could carry. 

“Alright,” you say, “I’ve shared with you, and now I want you to answer some of my questions. Then, if I think you won’t run off, I’ll untie you.” 

She looks at you tentatively, her eyes brimming with apprehension as you ask your first question, 

“What were you doing with Adam?” 

The door to the exam room slams open. Joel jumps as you pace over to where he’d dozed off on a bench in the hallway. Your worried expression makes him panic as he gets to his feet. What had happened? 

“What’s wrong? She hurt you?” Joel asks, his eyes scanning for any injuries 

You shake your head, pulling away from him when he steps closer to you. 

“Where’s Tommy?” 

“With Maria. Said somethin’ about learning to swaddle his kid, why?”

You turn on your heel, legs propelling you towards the direction of Maria’s room. Joel scampers after you, his knees popping when he matches your frantic pace. 

“Slow down.” He huffs, “Tell me what’s goin’ on.” 

Your warpath continues as you reach Maria’s room, your hand lands on the handle and Joel grabs your upper arm, turning you to face him, 

“What’s happening?” He asks he needs to know before you go in there to his brother.

Your mouth gapes as the door opens anyway, a disgruntled Tommy standing in the doorway. 

“Babies sleeping, you two are loud.” 

Perhaps Joel should care more about waking his new niece, but all he wanted was for you to tell him what the hell was going on. What had you so panicked you looked like you might throw up? 

“Tommy,” Your eyes tear away from Joels, “Tommy, we need to get every person who can shoot up on the walls.” 

“What? What’d the girl say?” Tommy asks, disgruntled as he pulls the door shut, shielding Maria from whatever is coming next.

Joel worriedly looks at you, your chest rises and falls as you take a deep breath, eyes still fixed on his brother. 

“Joel and I, we killed the man who came in with her.” 

Tommy’s head swivels to look at Joel, anger settles on his features as he opens his mouth to discipline his older brother. 

“What? Joel, we talked about this, you can’t just kill-” 

“Would you let me finish?” You huff

Joel shoots his little brother a look, he has no fucking idea what Adam had done, who was Tommy to tell him who he could and couldn’t kill? At this point, Joel would gladly kill Adam a thousand times over and it still wouldn’t be enough revenge for what he’d done to you.

“They’re raiders. Well, he was. Adam, he and Lana were sent out to scope Jackson out. Lana’s from a group they killed months ago. She’s…She was his…” 

Joel watches as your voice dies in your throat. Your hands nervously twist together as you stammer over what you’re trying to say. 

Lana was you. Adam had apparently made it a habit to torture and assault the women he came across. Joel felt anger flash through his system. That fucker hadn’t deserved the bullet you put in his skull. Joel should’ve made it longer, for you, for Lana, for whoever else Adam had hurt over the years. 

“She give you a number? How many are there?” Tommy asks, clearly understanding what you’re trying to say. 

You shake your head, “I dunno, she said there were at least over 15. She um…spent most of her time with Adam and-” 

The door is pulled open again, and this time Maria stands there, wrapped up in a big fluffy bathrobe, her hair is messily pulled back, eyes are lined with dark bags from her new child. 

“We need more patrol shifts. Wall security needs to be doubled.” She says, “Tommy, I want you to get the council together for me,” She glances at Joel her eyes scanning his form, “Have Joel lead a group with our best shooters out as soon as possible. Make sure they're not coming for us right now.” 

Joel knows he’s always been on thin ice with his sister-in-law. She’s never quite clicked with him yet here she was putting Jackson’s safety in his hands. 

He gives her a firm nod, “I’ll get goin’ now.” 

Tommy grabs Joel by the arm, his face is serious, with not a smile in sight. 

“Be careful.” 

He gives his little brother a pat on the back, Joel would be fine. Twenty-one years in the apocalypse, he could handle a few raiders. 

There's a warm breeze as he leaves the clinic. Who were Jackson’s best shooters? Tommy was one but he’d be rallying the council and up on the wall all night. That left him, Brett, that Louis fellow wasn’t half bed either. It’d be better to have at least four though, the more manpower the better. 

“Joel!” 

He turns around to see you, racing out of the clinic to catch up to him. What the hell were you doing now? 

“Let me come.” You demand when you reach him 

“What?” He looks down at you, “No.” 

Your brow furrows in disappointment and Joel sighs deeply. 

“Sweetheart, yesterday, we…”His eyes scan your face, you’re not mentally ready for this he can tell, “Yesterday you handled a big piece of your past. I just don’t think you’re cut out for this.” 

Joel isn’t expecting the slap that comes. His face stings from your palm meeting the skin of his cheek.

“Fuck you.” You scoff, “I’m going.” 

Joel watches as you stomp off towards god knows where. His legs pump after you as you huff when he falls into step with you, grabbing you and pulling you off into a narrow alleyway. 

“Didn’t mean it like that, sweetheart. I just meant that you…maybe you should just stay back, and take some time to think about…” 

He isn’t good at this, giving people advice. He’s better at giving orders and letting them carry them out. 

“Think about what, Joel? About what Adam did to me?” 

You take a step towards him, crowding his personal space. 

“I’ve thought about that for years. Every night I’m terrified he’ll show up and rip me out from under the blankets and get on top of me.” 

Joel feels his heart drop. You’d been living in fear of Adam for so long and here you were trying to go right back out there, closer to the men he worked with. 

“Exactly why I want you to sit this out. It’s going to be dangerous.” He says 

You give Joel a hard shove to the shoulders, and he stumbles back. He couldn’t let you go out there, what if you got hurt or they got overwhelmed and you were captured? What the fuck were you thinking, asking him to just let you out of the safety of Jackson. 

“I need this Joel. Why can’t you see that?” 

Anger boils in his chest. You needed this? What you needed to get shot? Taken by those men again? Turned into a slave for their sick pleasures? 

No. Joel couldn’t let that happen. He hadn’t been there to stop it the first time but he could now. He was going to do what he should’ve twenty years ago, and keep you safe. 

“You need to stay put. Here. Behind the walls where I know you’re safe.” 

“I need this.” You beg, tears in your eyes, your voice a whisper, “Joel please…let me feel useful again. I want to stop them. To stop them from taking another me or another Lana.” 

Joel lets out a deep sigh. He understood where you were coming from but he couldn’t let you come. Beyond the walls was unpredictable, he knew that better than you did. You’d spent years here in Jackson and he’d just walked across the damn country with a teenager. 

Your face is set in a hard stare as you look up at him. He can’t tell what you’re thinking as your mouth opens again, 

“I’ll leave without your blessing, Joel. This is me telling you, I’m going.” 

Joel shakes his head, no you just didn’t get it. 

“I’m going. It’s just a matter of if I’m going with you and your group, or alone.” 

Joel reaches out, his hand shakes a bit as he cups your face. A gentle gesture he remembers you used to relish in so many years ago. In another universe he’s sitting on his couch back in Texas, holding you as you giggle and watch a stupid rom-com with him. Instead, he’s standing here, an old man with hands dipped in the blood of so many as he tries to keep you safe and out of the reach of the monsters of this world. What a horrible hand the world has dealt him. 

Joel thumbs away a tear that hovers on your cheek. You whisper another please to him and his heart squeezes. 

Fine, he’ll let you go. Besides he couldn’t keep you safe if you ran off on your own to hunt these men. At least this way you’d have him at your side. 

“You listen to me out there.” He orders, “You understand? No running off on a revenge path.” 

You nod and sniffle a bit, turning your face to nuzzle closer to his touch. 

Joel leans in, his lips meet the warm skin of your forehead. A kiss brushes the skin of your forehead as he pulls you into what is probably a bone-crushing hug from your point of view. Your voice trickles into his ears again, warm as the spring breeze that floats through the town, 

“Thank you, Joel.” 

Three hours later, you ride out of Jackson. Joel leads you and two other men, Brett and Louis out along the furthest patrol route Jackson’s people watch. You grip Pepper’s reigns tight enough that your knuckles go white. 

Brett and Louis are fine. They’re both decent shots from what you can remember. It helps that they’re both young and filled with muscle. You found yourself wishing you had more mass, bigger biceps, and stronger legs. If you were tackled how long would you be able to survive with a man twice your size above you? Surely if any of these men you were after recognized you, you’d be killed. Not that it bothered you. Death was a much sweeter release than being taken by any of them again. 

Lana had said that there were at least over 15 men in Adam’s group. She said they often split up to do recon and patrol shifts, and that some of them had been close to the dam when she and Adam were “taken” in by Jackson’s patrol unit. 

You wondered who was leading them now. Lana said she spent most of her time with Adam and some other man named Paul. The fact this group had grown so much over the years made you shudder, all you knew was that Adam wasn’t at the head of it. Lana said he often mentioned a boss to her, a man she had never gotten the chance to meet. 

Lucky her.

The sun began to set as Joel suggested that they hole up in an old cabin up ahead. The other two men agreed and before you knew it you were sitting in between Joel and Louis eating a sandwich Ellie had made for you. 

Brett and Louis take the first shift of watch and leave you and Joel in the cabin. A single camping lantern sits on the ground, just barely illuminating the room. 

“You can have the bed. I’ll sleep down here.” Joel gestures to the old couch that had been pushed off to the side of the room after Brett deemed it too moth-ridden to sit on without it falling in on itself. 

You shake your head, he couldn’t stay there. He’d done so much for you, even if his rejection the other day had pissed you off, he deserved a bed. 

“We can share. I don’t mind.” 

Joel, as it turns out, snores. 

Loudly. 

You huff and turn onto your side. You wish you had a pillow to stuff over your head so the sound could be muffled a bit. God, he sounded like a fucking lawnmower. You should’ve just let him have the couch. 

You groan and flop onto your back. It’d been years since you shared a bed with him, if only 35-year-old Joel was here, he wouldn’t snore like this. Sure an occasional snort, and maybe a fart or two but at least he was quiet most of the night. 

“What’s wrong?” Joel mumbles from your right 

“Nothing. Go to bed.” You huff 

A beat of silence, had he gone back to sleep? 

“You’re upset,” Joel says, turning on his side to face you. 

The pale moonlight illuminates him as you turn to look at him in the darkness. You face him, scooching a bit closer so your noses are only inches apart. 

“You snore.” You say 

Joel’s brow knits together in confusion, “No I don’t.” 

“You do. You sound like that lawn mower you used to keep in your garage.” 

“You mean the broken one that smoked when it was turned on?” 

“Yeah.” You huff, “You’re that loud, Joel.” 

He grumbles a sorry and you smile softly. He looks pretty like this, his face illuminated by the moon, and his tired eyes staring into yours. Grey hairs litter his beard as you try to imagine what it might feel like pressed against your face. 

“I feel like Ellie would’ve told me I snored.” Joel thinks out loud 

“She’s clearly trying to spare your feelings.” You grumble, your eyes beginning to droop. 

“She’s a teenager. She wouldn’t spare your feelings even if you were dying.” Joel huffs 

You giggle, how right he is. Ellie was the most judgemental little girl you knew. Even that Dina girl who had once told you your shirt was ugly wasn’t as bad as Ellie.  

Joel throws off an impressive amount of heat as you lie there, fighting your drowsiness. You scoot a bit closer to him, craving the warmth he provides. 

“I liked what happened earlier.” You softly admit when your nose brushes his 

“Hmm?” Joel’s eyes lazily pull back open to look at you.

“In the alley. You give great hugs.” You smile, “They’re real bear hugs.” 

“It’s probably all the extra fat I’ve been lugging around. Y’gotta stop sending me cookies.” Joel sighs, his eyes fluttering shut again. 

You scoff, “Please. You’re anything but fat.” 

He rolls onto his back and Joel’s hand comes up and pats his belly from on top of his shirt. 

“This says otherwise, sweetheart.” 

He can’t see it, but you roll your eyes. 

“Went up a size or two on my belt since gettin’ into Jackson as well.”  

You push yourself up onto your elbows and poke your finger into his cheek. His eyes open again and jealousy twinges in your chest. Why was he blessed with such nice eyelashes. Those should be yours, he had no use for them. 

“There’ll be no body shaming on my watch, Mr. Miller.” 

“You’re makin’ me feel a thousand years old, calling me that.” He mumbles 

“Yeah, yeah.” You brush him off, “Just between you and me, dad bods have always been better than six packs.” 

Joel’s gaze flits over to you and he looks at you a bit incredulously. He must think you’re full of shit. 

“I’m serious.” 

You smile and flop back down, breaking the invisible boundary between the two of you but resting your chin on his chest. Part of your body rests on top of his now and he makes no motion to push you away. It’s a familiar position, one you had enjoyed so many years ago. Perhaps yesterday had just been a fluke. 

Joel huffs a small breath as if he’s saying he doesn’t believe you. 

“I’m going to bed.” You mumble into the soft fabric of his dark blue shirt. 

Joel is quiet, still as a statue under you as your eyes flutter shut. Then, his deep voice fills the room again, 

“I’m sorry. For yesterday. Pushing you away like that…You were hurtin’ and I was…well, I was scared.” 

“It’s alright.” You quietly reply, your finger drawing a circle on his t-shirt-clad chest. 

You don’t know what else to say to him. You knew yesterday had been the wrong move. Trying to get him to sleep with you after everything with Adam. You knew that wasn’t what you wanted. You had just been craving love and acceptance, you wanted to be wanted by someone. 

You wanted Joel to want you. 

Next Part

Yummy fluff. Hehe.

I need to figure out wtf I should name Tommy and Maria's kid. I wonder what HBO is gonna name them.

I can't believe Season Two is confirmed for April.

Season Two spoilers in the next little note:

Ugh, I'm so scared...Joel, STAY AWAY FROM GOLF PLEASE I BEG!!

God, Pedro needs a helmet. First Oberyn Martell and now Joel... :(

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly  @orcasoul  @snowlycanroc  @freythecrazyfae

@person-005 @greenwitchfromthewoods

@elli3williams @yawnzzzzzzzz @am-3-thyst  @concrete-jungleeee

@cherrypieyourface  @kanyewestest @bambisweethearts

@sarahhxx03 @loveisacowboyyy @amyispxnk @lou-la-lou

[bonescribes]

muse dynamic wishlist .

for you to pop into my dms and be like "bones we should do this with [YOUR MUSE HERE]!!!"

chilchuck: - parent + child. let chil parent your muse

fai: - mentor + mentee. honestly i'd love to explore post-canon fai a bit more... fai as a healed man mentoring your muse...in life? in magic? all of the above? - sunshine + grumpy. please please PLEASE throw your grumpies at fai, he will annoy the hell out of them with his childish whimsy

falin: - sunshine + grumpy. different from the fai kind in that falin is so gentle and patient, she's very much ideal for muses who need a little bit (or a lot) of that sort of personality to open up. - gal pals. /srs i want falin to have a bestie. just soft friendship where they can open up to each other and have fun and. yeah :) - gal pals. /j i love shipping falin

fleki: - sun + moon. fleki is a creature of pure chaos and a calming presence beside her is always appreciated. - emotionally mature + the exact opposite. on that note, fleki is incredibly emotionally immature. pairing her up with someone who is entirely the opposite could lead to some interesting development for her. or a horrible time for the other muse. or both! - two freaks of nature. yall wanna do elf drugs?

ukitake: - mentor + mentee. grandpa/dad figure. let him parent you and teach you the ways of the world and how to fight and philosophy and - sun + star. ukitake is a gentle sort of bright -- an excited, sunny muse to bounce off his positive energy is 10/10, even if he can't always match that energy. - this guy needs an enemy. preferably one he can shmooze onto the good side after a fair amount of spicy conflict, but a tragic ending is always fun too. :3

kurama: - vicious demon + the human he's terribly fond of. basically any kurama relationship, really, but im a big fan of him getting to protect his favorite creatures in increasingly horrifying ways. (i swear kurama isnt evil and i dont write him that way. i swear) - vicious demon + the equally vicious indivudal he cant stand. being the way he is, kurama doesnt have a whole lot of enemies, much less ones that can actually stand up to him. we should change this.

light: - two traumatized weirdos healing together. lets go on a healing journey...together. and probably fuck it up a lot and often. - (puts your muse in the nonary games) (puts your muse in the nonary games) (p - sender + receiver. what if ur muse suddenly had a lowkey psychic mindlink with light. what if - rivals. light is a vain motherfucker. i have no concepts for this, but him having a rival is so funny to me. he is never not the smartest guy in the room he would lose his mind

simon: - toxic yaoi. pha.ntomq.uill is a favorite ship of mine, i will not be accepting questions at this time - sunshine + grumpy. simon is the grumpy. - prisoners. just imagine it. your muse is in jail, my muse is in jail....the possibilities are endless. - enemies. less in a literal sense (unless...?) and more in a "two haters who should not be allowed in the same room" kind of sense. - childhood friends. a banger trope made even more banger by simon's transformation from Polite Little Guy to Pretends To Be A Villain Mastermind And Hasnt Slept In 7 Years. - found family. just...all of it. let simon be your big brother. come be simon's dad. whatever. i fuck with this so heavy

[bookshelfpassageway]

wish i could beam ALL the fallen london lore into my brain so i can proceed to play with my ocs in it

[foone]

I see a lot of people joking about the adhd thing of "I have a appointment/phone call at 3pm, guess I won't do anything all day!"

But no one seems to make the connection that it's a time blindness thing. One of the symptoms of ADHD is not having a good and accurate sense of time. And not doing stuff prior to an event with a hard deadline is an obvious coping mechanism for that.

Can I go to the store? It's 10am and the appointment is at 3pm. How long does going to the store take? An hour? Three hours? Five hours? I DON'T KNOW!

I get anxious trying to do things before appointments because I'm aware that I don't know how long those things take, and that if I think I do, I may be very wrong. Too often I've been like "hey I can walk to the corner store and grab a drink, that'll take like 15 minutes!" and then an hour later I get back and whoops my rice has burnt.

Plus there's also the fact that ADHD people know that motivation and focus is a two-edged sword.

Like, let's say you decide to play a video game. You've got time, you can pause/save whenever, so this should be a perfect fit to make good use of your waiting-time. So you start playing and WHOOPS you get really focused for some reason today (because people with ADHD do not get to pick when their brain decides to focus) and the next time you look at the clock it's 2:49 and you haven't showered or dressed and the appointment is 30 minutes away. Fuck. (you could have set an alarm, but now you're asking people with the forgetting-things-and-time-ignoring condition to remember it set alarms)

And with motivation, it can be almost worse. Instead of playing a game, you so something useful or creative. You clean your room or fix your plumbing or write a story or draw a picture. And suddenly it's great. Your brain is firing on all cylinders. You've got all the motivation you can ask for, and you are FLYING. the ideas are brilliant, your hands are nimble, you're getting stuff done you've been putting off for weeks or months. And then the alarm goes off. Time to go to your appointment. Fuck.

You drive there, your brain still full of ideas and plans. But by the time you get back, the motivation is gone. You may still have the ideas but you don't have the drive to write them down. You can't force yourself to do it. Your sink is still in pieces. Your room is half-cleaned, and you have to shove all the sorted clothes into one big bin just so you have somewhere to sleep. You've left things half finished again, in a cycle that has been repeating your whole fucking life. It seems sometimes that nothing ever gets finished.

So next time you don't even start. There's not time. You've been burnt too many times. Why add another half-completed project to your pile of shame?

My point is that people seem to be going "lol I can't do anything all day if I have an appointment at 3pm" like this is a quirky "oh I'm so scatterbrained!" weirdness they alone have, and not a major complication of a disabling mental illness.

(and that's not even getting into the secondary effects. If you know that having an appointment ruins your whole damn day, you're going to avoid them. Even when it's things like "going to that party" or "meeting your friends for a drink/game" or "going to a movie with that cute girl from your math class". Things you should enjoy. Things that'd help you be social. Things that make you feel human.)

[foldingfittedsheets]

FFS’ Guide to Mattresses:

The following is a non-comprehensive list of questions I get asked a lot and is hopefully a good resource for anyone looking for a new mattress. I am not a scientist. I just sell beds. All bed knowledge is centered in the US, my apologies to international folks.

If this guide proves helpful you can consider popping a tip over on my Ko-fi to say thanks!

What’s the first step?

Well, first thing is gonna seem kind’ve obvious but a lot of people get mattresses secondhand and don’t think about it. Determine the feel you like! There’s no reason to sleep on a hard bed unless you like it, it’s not any better for your back. The three standard feels are firm, medium, and soft. Soft is called plush for stupid reasons. So find out which you like! It’ll narrow down what you look at, and save you time.

When trying out mattresses, use an A-B method. Do not compare every bed. Compare two at a time, otherwise you end up a confused mess. Pick one between the two that you like better, then put that one up against the next choice.

When you eliminate a bed it’s dead to you. Forget it. It was not as good as your new favorite and does not deserve to be remembered. If you cannot pick between two you will be tempted to try a third- this is the devil talking. A third will just make your life harder. If you truly can’t pick between beds that are comparable and they both feel nice after feeling your feelings then pick the cheaper one.

Lastly, mattresses are a huge example of “you get what you pay for”. Investing will pay off. Don’t get sticker shocked, budget what you can but know that mattresses can be freakin expensive. If you go into a store and see $5000 price tags, don’t worry, that’s not all they carry, but focus on the feel of the bed at first rather than price tag.

If you find one you love but it’s too much, the salesperson will know a comparable roll down or will usually try to help you get a deal. If you can admit, “I like this but it’s too much” they’ll work with you to find a solution.

What firmness is best?

This varies person to person but firm beds are not necessarily better for your body. Really. There’s two parts to a good mattress: support and comfort. Support goes underneath and is generally springs or incredibly dense foam. If a bed has good support, you can get away with lots of comfort.

The comfort layer exists to be gentle on your joints and pressure points. People who sleep on their side really need this comfort layer. Without this your shoulders and hips can’t circulate blood and you’ll end up tossing and turning every time your arm starts to fall asleep.

Back in the 1950’s when interconnected coils were the only thing on the market it made sense that you needed them to be firm, otherwise you’d get no back support. But nowadays coils are individually free standing, they do a much better job supporting bodies and bonus, they don’t have to be rock hard.

Most people should get somewhere around a medium bed rather than super firm or super soft but it depends on the persons preferences as all three can be good for you.

How can I tell if a bed has good support?

I’m so glad you asked. You lay on it. There’s a natural curve to the human spine. Lay first on your back. The arch in your lower back, that’s your lumbar. A good bed will push up and fill that area. If your muscles are trying to maintain that arch all night without help it will cause back pain and tossing. The more a bed fills your lumbar the better you can sleep.

Next, lay on your side. You’ll want to focus on your shoulders and hips. Good support on your back is great, but a mattress should have enough squish not to pinch off circulation. Lay for at least five minutes on your side unless you hate it right off the bat, I’m not saying every bed needs this in depth just the one you’re seriously considering. If you feel like you already need to roll over it’s too hard, go softer.

Should I get a topper?

A thousand times no. Toppers are used as a wide ranging bandaid from “there’s a hole in my bed” to “my back hurts”. Commercially available foams in toppers are significantly worse than the foams found in beds. They break down faster and sleep hotter than what they make mattresses with.

The only scenario in which you need a topper is if you’re stuck with a bed that’s too firm for you and you need it a little softer. That’s it. It can make your bed a little softer. It cannot fill holes or fix a bed with bad support. Generally aim to be over $200+ or the topper will break down ridiculously fast and be super hot to sleep on.

What do I do if there’s a divot in my bed?

First off, waterproof protectors can help avoid this problem, so take your bed divot as a life lesson and use a protector on all beds going forward. Our sweat and humidity breaks down foam like nobodies business, causing permanent damage.

So you have a divot, what now? Depends how entrenched it is. When beds get slept on every night for years the foam where a body lays compresses down, and the foam around it stays untouched. You’ll naturally start sinking. But you can get up and walk or crawl along all the foam that isn’t get slept on. If your divot is years deep it may be beyond saving but it’s worth a shot.

You can also rotate beds head to foot every six months and switch the side you and your partner sleep on or sleep all over the bed if you’re alone in it.

If the bed is over ten years old thank it for its service and get a new bed.

When should I get a new bed?

It’s worth checking your sleep quality at ten years into a mattress. The average life expectancy of a bed is 7-9 years. Not because the bed gave out necessarily but because human bodies change. We gain and lose weight, suffer injuries and age. A bed that worked for us eight years ago might not be what we need anymore. So just general age check is good. This is subject to the kind of mattress, bed in a boxes average 3-4 years of comfort so check in sooner.

But additionally: if your bed has a deep body trench where you’ve been sleeping, or if you’re waking up achey or in pain. There’s health problems that can reduce your sleep but a lot of people never suspect their mattress is sabotaging their rest, so keep it in mind.

How do I clean my bed?

Oh boy. You don’t. This goes back to water proof protectors. Your bed is not something you can pop in the wash. But it is something you will sweat and live in for upwards of ten years. Dust mites, dead skin cells, dust mite corpses, dust mite feces, allergens, skin oils. All those things will seep into the bed over time and spoiler alert it’s not great to breathe it in every night.

Sheets only catch a fraction of it, so a waterproof protector keeps the bed safe from your sweat breaking it down, but it keeps you safe from all the things that can build up in a mattress.

If you must clean a mattress I recommend a professional steaming service rather than trying to do it on your own but take this going forward: always protect your bed.

When should I get a new pillow?

Does your pillow have a waterproof protector on it? If no the answer is probably “right now”. Doctors recommend keeping a pillow no more than two years. This is because they’ll lose support and get yucky gross over those two years. If you get a memory foam pillow and get a protector on it they can last way longer. My oldest pillow was around seven years old.

Cheap polyfill pillows you buy at Target or Walmart are really only going to last three months before they wear out. If you are using more then one pillow at night you need a new pillow. Every time you have to wake up and adjust the multiple pillows you’re losing sleep.

Memory foam pillows can be more expensive but will last exponentially longer so save up and spend $50+ on a pillow you’ll actually get to use for a long time rather than $10 on one that will give you a few months of comfort.

What do I look for in a good pillow?

A good pillow is an extension of your spinal support. It should keep your neck aligned with your spine. Ideally, you are laying on a bed to try out a pillows height. It should match the width of your shoulder.

Most mattress stores can fit you for a pillow, but you can also bring a buddy to check your spinal alignment is straight. Side sleeping is most critical to get the height right. Back sleeping you just don’t want it too tall to force your chin down, and stomach you want it low enough not to push your neck up.

I replaced my pillow, now what?

Okay so now you might curse my name for a few days. Bodies are creatures of habit and hate change. Your neck might be in agony on the old pillow but it's familiar agony. So when you boot that sucker to the curb don't throw it out right away. As if I'd ever actually throw away a pillow when I could just hoard it forever.

Start each night on your new pillow. If you wake up in pain, switch back to the old one. Each night you should be able to stay on the new pillow longer and longer until your neck is finally happy. If the new pillow is consistently an issue after a week or more it may be too tall/low for you, unfortunately.

If I’m sleeping well do I really need to replace it (beds/pillows)?

Are you really sleeping well? Replacing beds or pillows is inherently stressful and a lot of peoples happy place is their bed. It’s hard to give up aspects of that cozy zone. If you’re really truly sleeping well no one is gonna make you change.

But generally if you find yourself asking this question you may be trying to convince yourself that things are good enough and ignoring that they could be much better.

Get a sleep tracker if some kind. Let it run for a week or two to see how much you’re tossing and waking up. If it’s a lot and your bed/pillow are old, it’s a good bed they’ve served their time.

If you ever wake up to readjust pillows (or at any point you’re using more than one pillow or mattress) then yes. You need a new one.

Good sleep is the result of the least disruptions. Anything you need to adjust in the middle of the night deserves a hard look and a boot to the curb.

Why shouldn’t I have my mattress flat on the floor?

Mold. Mold mold mold. Remember when I talked about how human bodies are humid? We put out a ridiculous amount of moisture as we sleep from exhalations to sweat. That builds up in the sponge under you and then your body heat maintains the ideal temperature to grow all sorts of nastiness.

You would not believe the amount of molded out beds I’ve seen. Even in the most arid areas, mold. It’s not worth it. Do not leave your bed on the floor. There’s like 2” frames if you like a low bed. If you must have your bed on the floor tip it up against a wall to ventilate every day. Mold will not wait for an invitation.

Japanese futons get brought up a lot here and first off- they get moved every night and washed regularly. Then left to ventilate. They understand that if they left it there it would mold.

Why do I sleep in X position?

Generally your body really wants your spine to curve in the right ways. Sleeping on your back would be ideal if the bed gave you everything you needed but most beds struggle to fill the lumbar. So when your muscles can’t hold your lumbar curve and want a break you roll onto your side.

Stomach sleepers are a case of back muscles fully declaring that nothing can support them and opting to invert rather than deal with poor support. It’s fully the worst sleeping position.

Before I sold beds I was almost 100% stomach sleeper due to scoliosis and back pain. Sometimes side. When I got my new bed I switched to only side and occasionally even back, which astonished me. As my bed has become less what I need I’ve reverted to occasional stomach bouts and less back sleeping.

Why don’t you like bed in a box?

Let me count the ways.

Box beds are the fast fashion of the bed world. They essentially corrupt the support part of the bed equation in order to get a product that can feasibly roll up and be compressed down. The foams are all lower density than they should be and give out quicker. The coils are significantly less steel.

The world cried out for an inexpensive bed and companies responded by giving you significantly less bed per dollar. They often use fiberglass as their flame retardant a requirement for all beds and there’s many testimonials about how poorly that’s gone for people.

But now the greatest sin of boxed beds is that they have the audacity to be marketed at the same price points of traditional beds that don’t roll up.

This robs the consumer of longevity. They’re a rip off. I sell them now at my store and I will do everything in my power to turn folks away onto beds that will actually do their damn job rather than bed mimics.

If you have a bed in a box, please understand that you’ll still get up to five years out of it, and you’re not foolish for buying one. They’ll still always be better than an old broken bed, just look to replace it sooner.

What is a good price point for a new bed?

This is really subjective, but you can get a queen size bed with independent coils for around $600. That’s the lowest good back support I’ve seen. You’ll get ten years out of it and it’ll be a bed.

Stepping into the $1000 mark gives better back support and pressure relief. Up from that they’re going to get more conforming.

Beyond $2000+ you’re generally paying for cooling. It’s the number one thing people want in a new bed but it costs more to give.

Rank Costco, IKEA, or bed in a boxes?

Bed in a box are my lowest tier, for reasons I’ve spoken of at length.

IKEA is next. They’re generally not boxed as of the last time I investigated ikea beds but they’re also just bare bones. Not a lot of either support or comfort, they tend to be around dorm quality.

Costco is a bit of a cheat here. See, they’re a wholesaler but mattresses aren’t something that overstocks- they’re made to order. Costco still wanted to offer a cheap option. So Costco gets beds made to order for really cheap. Now how can Costco offer it so much cheaper? By putting roughly 1/3 less stuff in it by category.

I had a spreadsheet laid out at one point to compare a sealy I carried against what looked like a comparable Costco bed. Every single component was shaved down. Each layer of foam, each coil, they all were about 1/3 less material than our better bed.

Now of course Costco sells boxed bed. So a non-boxed Costco bed is still better than an old broken bed and Costco will basically always take it back which is why they score higher than others but you’re still only going to get about three to five years out of it.

Do I really need a new boxspring? My old one is fine!

Is it really actually 100% fine? Is it just as old as the mattress? Are you willing to gamble the price of the new bed on the existing structural integrity? It’s been load bearing for the lifespan of a bed and the amount of boxes that are actually good to continue service are few and far between.

A few reasons to get new boxes: new beds are made much more floppy than old style to accommodate adjusting on adjustable bases. Old boxes may not offer adequate support for a new bed. Ideally what’s going under a new mattress is solid. No gaps. If you have slats it’s still ultimately better to put a bunkie board under the mattress rather than sitting it right on the slats. Also mattress manufacturers won’t warranty a bed that is on old boxes or improper support.

Adjustable bases are a wonderful replacement for box springs, bunkie boards should go over slats greater that 2” apart, and try to avoid frames that leave big open spaces under the bed.

If this guide was helpful you can consider popping a tip over on my Ko-fi to say thanks!

[shanastoryteller]

Dean’s minding his own business, sipping on a beer and leering at the bartender, when a guy that admittedly has about four inches and a good twenty pounds of muscle on him storms over and shoves him in the arm.

He tenses, getting to his feet and preparing for a fight even as he’s wondering what he did to piss him off. Maybe the bartender’s his girl? Jesus, Dean was just looking, he can’t get mad at just looking when his girl look likes that.

“Dude, what the hell?” the guy demands. “I know you’re pissed at me right now, but just leaving me back there – do you know how many bars it took to find you? You’re a jackass.”

He’s not taking a swing, instead standing with crossed arms – fuck, this guy is huge, he’d really like to avoid a fight here – and scowling at him, his long hair falling into his eyes as he looks down at him. Dean wishes he had any idea what was going on right now. “Look, man, relax.” The guy’s eyes narrow, his shoulders lifting and expanding as he takes in a deep breath, as if he needs any help to look bigger. Before he can say anything, Dean adds, “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Fuck off.” He presses his lips together, somehow appearing smaller in the next moment without actually moving. “Look, I know you’re mad about heaven, you’ve made that pretty fucking clear, but you can’t just walk off and turn off your phone. I figured you were just being an ass, but something could have happened to you. If you’re ignoring me, at least let me know you’re ignoring me.”

The guy doesn’t look like he’s tweaking, or suffering some sort of head injury. His eyes are clear and his voice is steady. But Dean has no idea what he’s talking about. “Dude, you’ve really got me confused with someone else.”

“Dean!” he snaps, which woah, okay, he wasn’t expecting that. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing,” he says. “How do you know my name?”

He stares at him, uncertainty entering his eyes for the first time. “Are you feeling okay? You didn’t come across Zachariah or a witch or something in the past couple hours?”

He doesn’t know who Zachariah is, but the casual mention of witches makes him frown. Is this guy a hunter or something? He figures he’d remember meeting him, but maybe not.

“Everything okay over here?” Dad’s hand lands heavily on his shoulder, and Dean shifts enough to see him giving the guy a hard stare that has sent more than one man running in the other direction.

Dean almost rolls his eyes – he’s thirty one years old, he doesn’t need his dad coming over to save him – but he makes the effort so rarely that Dean can’t help but be warmed by it.

The guy pales, mouth dropping open as he stares at Dad like he’s seen a ghost. “You – Christo.”

Okay, definitely a hunter. Dad raises an eyebrow. “I’m not a demon.”

The guy grabs for Dean, yanking on his hand. Dean jerks back, but he’s already gotten his long fingers around his ring. He pulls it off and Dean is about to break his jaw to get it back, but he tosses it to Dad, who catches it on instinct. Dean doesn’t get it until he does. His ring is silver. He’s checking if Dad is a shifter, which okay, that’s one thing. Dean’s more concerned about how he knows his ring is silver. The guy’s voice cracks when he says, “Dad?”

Dad raises an eyebrow. “I think you’re a little confused.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” he asks, grabbing onto the sleeve of his jacket. Dean should push him off. “What,” his gaze drops down, and if possible he goes even paler. “Oh. Oh, fuck.”

Dean looks down, sees the guy’s eyes stuck on his amulet. “What?”

“I don’t understand,” he says, biting on his lower lip. “Is this some sort of – but you’re still hunters. Is Mom alive?”

Dean flinches.

“Okay,” Dad says. “That’s enough. You walk this off or whatever, but you do it somewhere else–”

“Dad, it’s me,” he says plaintively. “It’s Sam. Your son.”

Dean doesn’t remember moving, only that the next moment his hands are fisted in the front of this asshole’s shirt, his blood thrumming under his skin. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

He puts his hands on Dean’s wrists, stupid earnest and soft and Dean’s going to kick his ass. “Dean. It’s me. I have to exist in this world, right? The demon was after me, if I wasn’t here then there wouldn’t have ben a fire, Mom wouldn’t have died, you guys wouldn’t be hunters. I have to be around somewhere.”

Dean tries to shove him away, but he won’t let go of his hands. “Shut up! You don’t – don’t talk about my family.”

The worst thing he ever did, his biggest failure. Sometimes the weight of it gets to be so heavy that it feels like it should be cracking his ribs, pressing his heart until it bursts. Sometimes he wishes it would.

He swallows before letting go with one hand and reaching into his pocket to pull something out. It takes Dean a moment to see it’s his amulet, the one he’s worn since he was twelve years old, back when Bobby still talked to them. “My name is Samuel Winchester. I was named after my mother’s father. I was born on May 2, 1983. When I was eight years old, Bobby gave me this amulet. He said it was a protection charm. I was originally planning to give it to Dad for Christmas, but he didn’t show up. Another in a long line of disappointments, right? So I gave it to you instead. Because even when you’re being a jerk, you’ve never let me down.”

Dean’s eyes are burning. He tries to shake off his grip, but he won’t let go. Why is Dad just standing there? “Stop! Stop. I don’t know what game you’re playing–”

“No game,” he says, gentle voice a counterpoint to the grip that’s absolutely going to bruise. “I need you to believe me, Dean, please–”

“My brother died when he was six months old,” he cuts him off. “Samuel Winchester is dead. He’s been dead for twenty six years.”

His fault, his fault, all his fault. If he’d just listened to Dad –

“Not where I’m from,” he says, and it’s crazy, it’s all crazy. “Please. Ask me anything. I’ll prove it. Hell, let’s go to a clinic, we can take a DNA test. I’m Sam. I’m your brother. And I need your help.”

“You mentioned a demon,” Dad says quietly.

The guy, who’s not Sam, who can’t be Sam, tears his eyes away from Dean to look at Dad. “Yeah. Azazel. The yellow eyed demon.”

Dad rubs a hand over his mouth. “I never told anyone about that.”

Dean snaps his head towards Dad. “What? You said you didn’t know what killed Mom! That we were searching for it!”

“We are,” Dad says. “It never resurfaced again. I’ve been looking for the signs.”

The guy frowns. “He started up again when I was twenty two.”

“Not here,” Dad says, looking him up and down, something hungry in his eyes.

Dad believes him. Dad thinks that this is Sammy.

“Let’s discuss this back at the room,” Dad says. “Come on.”

He heads towards the door, sure that he’s going to be followed. The – Sam, maybe Sam, he rolls his eyes, but goes after him. He only stops when his grip on Dean’s wrist jerks him back, because Dean’s not moving, can’t make himself move. He flushes, letting go of Dean finally, but he takes a step closer. His eyebrows pull together in concern, and now that Dean’s looking, he sort of sees it, sees the planes of Dad’s face and his eyes in this stranger with his brother’s name. “Hey, are you okay?”

No.

“Let’s go,” he says, striding forward, shoulders hunched.

Sam falls into step beside him easily, matching his strides like it’s second nature. Dean swallows around the lump in his throat and tries to pretend it means nothing.

[ladyofrosefire]

fuck it, bg3 companions shower routine

Shadowheart: Shar hates self-care, but a Shadowheart does take pride in her hair, and a Shadowheart who has learned to be kind to herself can indulge. Long, complicated hair routine, very specific water temperature, and a tendency toward long-ass depression showers. LOVES a bubble bath and will make a whole event of it with flower petals and candles just for her. Will bring a book with a little book tray and a glass of wine.

Astarion: Similarly complicated hair routine. Gotta hydrate the curls, and being dead does not do nice things to your hair. Less prone to standing there staring at nothing while the horrors set in, but prone to scrubbing too hard. Similarly fond of a bubble bath, although without the book or flowers, although he will fuck with an essential oil heater and likes to make his own blends.

Lae'zel: Queen of the 4 minute shower. She has been accused of not even waiting for the water to heat up, but she likes it blistering. Does not actually use 3-in-1, thank you. Having fairly short hair helps. She finds the other companions baffling. Would get bored in a bubble bath unless she had company (rubber duck counts).

Wyll: Sings. If someone called him on it, he would be embarrassed, the first time, for about a minute. Neither wildly efficient nor inclined to standing there for ages and ages and prefers to shower in the morning. Washing his hair is a chance to relax and take care of himself, although before he has his family back, it can be a bit melancholy. He has fallen asleep in the bath before. I feel like he'd love a bath bomb and he'd love the full romantic evening with candles and flowers and music.

Karlach: Please, please someone boil her. Once she gets her engine fixed all the way, she tries a cold shower just to remember what it feels like and keeps up a running commentary about how much it sucks while also not turning up the temperature. Absolutely loves sharing a shower with someone and will also sing. Should not attempt her little jig on wet tiles. May try anyway. Someone should introduce her to proper hair/skin care because if anyone is using 3-in-1, I'm sorry, it's Karlach. Genuinely cannot sit still for a bubble bath unless she has company to cuddle.

Gale: Voted Faerun's Most Likely to Relitigate Arguments in the Shower, Even if He Won Originally. Loves to pamper himself, canonically, loves a spa day, also canonically. You simply are not getting the bathroom back for a good hour, although not all that time involves running water. Plays around with different products and researches the living hell out of everything. Loves a long soak. The only person with a feline in their house to ever bathe in peace. Constantly torn between wanting a book with him when he has a bath and not wanting to get the pages steamy and damp, much less actually wet.

Minthara: Her ideal hair wash involves someone else doing it for her while also having the utmost certainty that the person will not attempt to murder her. If her partner washes her hair for her, she turns into a puddle. She has an incredibly specific lineup of products. If she shares, understand that she has bestowed upon you a great gift. More about bath salts than bubbles and could be persuaded to a sufficiently elegant bath bomb (it would not be a difficult check).

Halsin: Low-flow showerhead user. Hell, he might be the kind of person to turn the water off entirely when not soaking/rinsing out his hair... However, he is not immune to the "shower together to save water" line even though he KNOWS it doesn't work that way. He needs low-scent soaps/etc considering his heightened sense of smell. And listen, this man does not fit in a bathtub unless he goes somewhere special or finds a particularly large one. He made everyone floaty ducks, properly sealed against water damage, and he has one for himself that holds his soap.

Jaheira: Understands that having a chair in the shower is just being kind to yourself and proceeds accordingly. Will revisit arguments she had that day, but despite that has a quick and fairly simple routine. She needs the water pressure to pound the everloving hell out of her back. Loofa on a stick user. Like Wyll, she has fallen asleep in a bathtub, in part thanks to having and using a bath cushion. Truly, the expert on bath-based comfort.

Minsc: Also sings in the shower. LOUDLY. Boo is allowed to sit a shelf out of the way. The best way to get him to use lotion is to give him something that smells yummy. He has similar problems to Halsin regarding fitting in bathtubs. He tries anyway. He has been banned from at least one hotspring for doing a cannonball.

[lavenderprose]

Here's an idea I'm rotating:

At some point Rook has to go somewhere on Important Hero Business (There's an I Saved The World Club meeting happening at Skyhold or something) and Emmrich has to go to the Necropolis on Professor Business and as they're packing Emmrich's just like, "Oh and don't forget to take Johanna."

Rook, eyes bugging out of her head: WHOSMT.

Emmrich explains that he doesn't want to leave her alone in the dark for however long they're both gone (Because he's very soft-hearted about his friend, even still) but it's SUCH A BAD IDEA to take her to the Necropolis. Any number of looney toons ass hijinks could ensue if the half-lich skull of a former necromancer gets near all that raw spirit energy.

So Rook takes Johanna to Skyhold and sets her on the dresser in the guest suite and they glare at each other for a good long while.

"I hate you," Rook tells her, matter of factly. "You tried to kill my boyfriend. Multiple times."

"If that coward Volkarin would take me to the Necropolis, I would try again," Johanna sneers.

Rook groans and massages her temples and ignores the fact that she feels both hungry and nauseous at the same time. "Shut up. Maker, just shut up. Why shouldn't I throw you off the side of the castle?"

"Because you can't throw hard enough," Johanna croons. "And your precious Emmrich would be so sad, because he's a sentimental old fool and--"

Rook doesn't throw Johanna, but she does throw a pillow AT Johanna, and she goes toppling off the dresser and into the floor.

"YOU STUPID HARPY," Johanna howls. "If you crack my skull, the vessel will be compromised and my consciousness will be set adrift!"

"Good!" Rook says. "You're a crazy old bitch and you should have died when we killed you!"

"That's rich, coming from a Necropolis reject! Poor little orphan never had a father, so she spreads her legs for the first milquetoast Necromancer who looks at her twice."

"You don't know anything about Emmrich and I," Rook seethes. The window out to the courtyard is looking very appealing indeed. Johanna might even enjoy the sensation of wind against her eye sockets as she went whirling to the ground.

"I know enough," Johanna snorts. "How that decrepit old ponce even managed to knock you up, I'll never understand."

"WHAT," Rook howls.

"Oh, as if you thought I wouldn't be able to tell! I'm a woman too; I may have never had children, but I know what it looks like, if only to better avoid it! Why are you on the floor. Why are you CRYING."

After a few moments of dawning horror, Johanna says, "Did you...truly not know?" When Rook just hides her face in her hands and continues sobbing, Johanna says, "Oh, you stupid girl," but it's...strangely gentle.

[amazinglyashy]

hi! i was wondering if i can request lads boys comforting their s/o bc their cat has passed. my baby passed today and i’m grieving really hard. thank you and have an amazing day🫶🏻

Moving this one up immediately in my box just to express my condolences. Your baby was very loved, I'm sure, and I hope you get through this tough time with care <3 I'm sorry for your loss. It's a tough time, regardless of who you're losing. My partner's grandpa passed a couple years back and I remember us crying, laughing and bowling, crying again, and talking a lot. Heck, I went to a craft store right after I heard the news and wandered around for two hours without any goal. I think I bought lolipop sticks. Take care love <3 You'll get through this. I know it's hard.

LaDS men when your pet cat has passed away

Xavier -

Since he lives so close by, your baby was his baby too, so he's devastated. Not equally so, he knows you spent more time with them, and you had them long before you had met him, but still- the pain exists.

The both of you are a bundle of blankets for a long while, just lying in the comfort and going through the both of your phones as you look for every single photo or video that has your cat in it, even just a little bit.

Lots of tears, but lots of laughs as well.

Everything is clear and apparent with every single memory the two of you go through- every little quirk your cat had, every little habit they had-

You both have a really nice time just talking about your cat, and any of the goofy mischief they used to get up to.

Of course you cry, and of course Xavier holds you through it. He knows how hard this is for you, and he knows it'll pass.

But until then, he's got you.

He's always got you.

Zayne -

He may be pragmatic to an extreme sometimes, but when it comes to grieving, he knows how hard it can be on the human psychic.

Not to mention on someone like you, who's already been through enough.

He'll definitely ask you if you want a hug, and if the answer is yes, he'll hold you, squeezing you so snugly and for so long that surely his muscle memory doesn't know a different position anymore.

Warm tea or cocoa, his old cardigan on your shoulders, pillows and blankets surrounding you on the couch, and just…

A lot of care.

If you ask him for any opinions or advice, he probably won't be able to give it to you. He doesn't want to risk anything coming out abrasive when you're still so tender, so he'll settle for condolences and anything comforting he can think of.

"I know it hurts. And you can try as you might, but the hole they left won't ever manage to be blocked out. All you can do is keep going, and hold their memory close."

Sylus -

Deep breath, it's going to be alright.

Loss is definitely something he's familiar with- and it's partially why he doesn't have anyone of his own. Mephisto may have a personality, but he's also mechanical. There's no way for him to disappear, because every bit of data in him gets saved, just in case.

But there's also no way your cat will disappear either, because Sylus has saved every memory of her, to make sure you will always have something should this day arrived.

He just didn't expect it to come so soon.

Doesn't matter what job he has, it's left to Luke and Kieran. He's by your side to care for you in whatever capacity you may need. He takes a lot of initiative, but he also asks you a lot of questions too. He doesn't want to risk making you uncomfortable, and he knows you're extra tender right now.

A lot of physical affection if that's what you need, and a lot of ideas to help you through it- whether he takes you out somewhere to help distract you from the pain, or goes through old memories with you to help you grieve through it, he'll do anything.

For as long as you may need.

Rafayel -

He hated cats.

Except for this one.

That was partially your fault, but also partially the darned cat's fault for being such a love.

He's devastated, both for you, and for himself.

He'll hug you- kiss you. Anything he can think of that usually cheers you up, even though he knows there's really nothing that's going to help right now.

He's been there, he's experienced loss. He knows what you're going through, and unfortunately- he knows that also means there's not really any helping it.

Someday when you're ready- could be in a month, could be three years from now, it doesn't matter at all him- he'll make you probably one of the favorite gifts you'll ever receive from him.

It's a portrait of your past baby, flowing full of life and color with eyes that sparkle almost as well as theirs did back when they were still around.

Almost.

And sometimes, 'almost' is more than enough to help ease the pain.

[imagine-shenanigans]

i havent written anything in a hot minute but creepy neighbor johnny? anyone? shakes him like a bag of chips at you all

He lives in the same shitty building you're stuck in, with no in unit washer/dryer, and the only machines are available in the basement. They're ancient but they work, and they're just so much cheaper than a laundromat and you can barely drag yourself down into the basement when youre off of your night shift to wash your work uniform, let alone drag your carcass down to a laundromat outside of the safety of your locked building.

And usually despite being tired it works great! You can chuck down an instant meal while you sit in the laundry room after work, scrolling through your phone. You get all of the four washers/dryers free for yourself (though you never use all four, youre not crazy).

And whenever Johnny's home he's always jetlagged to fuck, and if he's alone he'll just do his laundry whenever he feels like it - which usually tends to be in the middle of the night, because if Mrs Johnson from down the hall grabs his bicep one more time he'll scream.

His obsession with you immediately snaps into place when he sees you sitting on top of the dryer, half asleep as you play on your phone. (Because like hell are you leaving your clothes unattended.) He tries to make small talk, making jokes or asking questions just to keep hearing your tired, slightly incoherent voice.

"Cold water," you yawn, rubbing at your face.

"What's tha' hen?"

"Blood," you clarify tiredly, leaning forward a bit to point at one of his shirts. "You wanna use cold water for blood. Not hot. The proteins in blood clump or something? I think? Anyway it'll set the stain."

Johnny blinks, and flicks the knob to cold instead of hot, a chuckle rumbling in his throat. He finishes loading the washer, and then moves to bracket his arms on either side of you, leaning in just a liiiitle too close and thanking you.

Plucks at your sleep shorts and runs the flimsy fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

Makes an off color joke about what a good little housewife/spouse/husband you'd be thats just a LITTLE too enthusiastic. Doesn't move back nearly far enough when the buzzer of the dryer finishing "saves" you. It makes it so you brush up against him when you clamber down and bend to get your clothes.

Watches you leave and memorizes what floor you set the elevator to. Ecstatic when he realizes you're on the same floor - nearly goes rabid when he hears your voice coming from the adjacent wall the next morning when your shower kicks on.

From them on he seems to ALWAYS be doing laundry when you are, like he's got a sixth fucking sense for it. He never does it where you can see, either but you SWEAR he's taking your underwear from the laundry basket on purpose. You just can't prove it because no matter how hard you stare or keep watch, or wait... he always, without fail, produces a pair of your skimpiest/most revealing/tightest pair of underwear from SOMEWHERE and chuckles that he found something of yours.

Then he asks for a finders fee, and, without fail, every single time, his request escalates from the last one.

He starts with asking for a hug, then a few weeks later he's escalated to a kiss on the cheek, but he always turns his head at the last second. By the third week he's giving you a sloppy, open mouthed kiss that leaves you breathless before he'll even think about giving your underwear back.

(And, god forbid you refuse, because he'll just fucking pocket them.)

He steals your mail, comes over for a cup of sugar, anything he can think of to be in your space he will. And, of course, should you choose to ignore him, and pretend youre still sleeping? He takes advantage of the fact that you're the only neighbor on his side of the hall, and absolutely makes a menace of himself. Presses to the adjacent wall so hard even he worries he might break through it, and moans so loud you're convinced he might go mute.

And at first youre like. okay! no worries! ill just put on noise cancelling headphones! (and if you do anything without those headphones on, thats between you and god.) But then he starts moaning YOUR name and panting like youre in the fucking room with him, until you inevitably get complaints and nobody believes you when you say youre not fucking the hot military veteran because everyone heard it. (or thought they did)

and, if you ever find something of HIS and return it?

He's going to ignore your request for him to stop as your finders fee. He has some more creative ideas for it after all

[dreaming-of-lu]

A thought that I shared with a couple of mutuals, cause I cannot shut up about Stardew Valley right now. Imma mix mash my favs together and make y'all spiral with me.

You, the only beloved grandchild of your grandfather, was given a letter by your grandfather who was on his last leg, filled with information regarding his left behind farm and cottage in your name. He told you when the day comes that when you've grown tired of the city and yearn for a life free from the shackles of the ever growing demand of corporates and nonstop hustle bustle. The farm and cottage will be waiting until you are ready. Years passed and of course, you become tired, exactly what your grandfather told you would. With no thoughts to spare to the city you left behind and little clothes on your back. Quitting your job, you head towards Pelican Town.

The mayor was friendly, save for the carpenter that definitely made you laugh until she made a jab at your grandfather's cottage. While you could agree, since it's honestly not much, yet you'll make do with what you got for now and add things on later. However, the slight pang went through your heart at the disrespect she gave to him. Before the mayor could set off, he highly encouraged you to introduce yourself to the entire town. He then goes over with you about the shipping container, what to put in there while handing you a sack filled with parsnip seeds. He also gestures to the tools he was able to get you that were sitting on the porch, with a wordless pat of good luck, he sets off down the road back to the town.

MEET OUR BACHELORS

First: Single (Bachelor)

Meeting First was quite quick since the man was known to be busy and quite on the run to get things done before heading back to the adventurer's guild that his great uncle runs. He was short in his greetings to you and apologized swiftly that he had to be somewhere.

It may not seem like it, but this man is definitely a poet with words. Chivalrous, that had his great uncle playfully rolling his eyes at his nephew.

Yet there's something underlying mysterious about him that drew you in to him. Perhaps you should gift him things and get to know him a little more better!

Sky: Single (Bachelor)

The eldest son of the carpenter! He lives down southeast of Lon Lon Ranch. He's the absolute sweetest person you've ever met in your entire life. The bright smile on his sleepy face had you mentally cooing at him.

He carves, paints, builds little bird houses just like what his mother use to do. He definitely decorates his home each time the season changes, it's so damn adorable.

He's single due to a breakup that did not end on good terms unfortunately. While he still respect her, however, there are things that were said that ended up hurting the other.

Four: Single (Bachelor)

The grandson of the blacksmith. He was working behind the counter when your fresh face entered the shop. Obviously, a little put off since not many people tend to flock to Pelican Town. He's a bit shy yet he makes small talk just to get to know you better. Until his grandfather emerged and the look on his face had him laughing.

Yeah, he ain't laughing anymore when his grandfather told him 'that's the kid you used to play with all the time when you were younger.'

He takes the tools you got and upgrades them or process the geodes that you tend to bring in.

Time: Single (Bachelor)

The working left hand man of Lon Lon Ranch. This man scared the absolute shit out of you when he showed up on your front porch that morning. To open a door to a towering, one eye, scarred man was not on your bingo card of shit you witness while living here.

He was straight to the point of who to come to when buying animals whenever you get your barn and coop up n going.

He's someone you want to be careful around, an anger you do not want aimed towards you. That mask you saw sitting on his belt felt ominous. He's hard to get warm up to.

Twilight: Single (Bachelor)

You were just planting the parsnip seeds when you heard a bark come from behind you and yelling from someone telling to 'Come back!' A black and white dog ran up on your porch with its tail wagging a mile a minute. A cute dirty blonde haired male came jogging up with an exasperated look before realizing you were the new farmer there.

He was embarrassed yet quickly introduced himself. The adopted son of Uli and Rusl's, the older brother to Colin and his soon to be born little sister. He also works at Lon Lon Ranch.

He's hiding something.

Hyrule: Single (Bachelor)

The doctor of the town. A shy sweetheart that introduced himself to you after you came in due to an already early incident on the farm. He scolds you gently for doing something stupid and rash.

May or may not have told you one day that he wasn't getting enough patients which affected his pay heavily.

Man has unprocessed trauma.

Wild: Single (Bachelor)

He runs the saloon, all by himself, save for his friend Flora does tend to come help him to keep things smooth and sailing when it gets packed. He was friendly enough to introduce himself to you when seeing you pass him on your way to Ravio's General Store.

He def encouraged you to take a load off once and awhile to relax in his Saloon.

He doesn't remember his old life, it seems like he doesn't want to either way.

Warriors: Single (Bachelor)

The older brother to Wind and Aryll. House is on the beach and he's dramatic as hell yet he comes in later on year 2 of your life on the farm. He introduced himself first thing in the morning and he's a bit stiff about it.

He's the only soldier(?) in Pelican Town and ties to the city, he seems so tired and run down honestly.

He's doing his absolute best to raise Wind and Aryll after the funeral of their grandmother.

Legend: Single (Bachelor)

The lone wizard that "summoned" you to his tower to gift you the language of the Junimos. Just to be able to easily translate the language and to fix up the community center.

His sassy attitude def threw you off yet he's standoffish. Only asking you of things he needed from the mines.

He seems to be mourning something.

Ravio: Single???

The owner of Ravio's General Store. The sight of his bunny ear hat sat upon his head was the first thing that caught your eyes. His eagerness to greet you while showing you the package of seeds he was given, showing off the wares he gotten.

The sight of his broken heart made yours clench when one of the workers of Joja mart came in and declared loudly that things were on sale for 50% off. He's trying his best, but the income is needed.

Is finding ways to take down Joja Mart

-TO BACHELORETTES (To be added at some point-

[wlntrsldler]

almost (sweet music) | luke castellan

synopsis: exbf! luke castellan goes on a date with another girl after your death. went back to my roots and wrote an aphrodite reader!

song: almost (sweet music) by hozier

it's been a year.

it's been a year since percy uttered the words, "we need a shroud, for the daughter of aphrodite." it's been a year since he survived the battle of manhattan and you didn't. it's been a year since hermes had to pull him off your dead body as he thrashed and mourned your death.

he's out of camp half blood now, which he thinks you'd be surprised to learn. you always joked that he'd end up taking over mr. d's position if he wasn't an immortal god. luke had a special relationship with chb, just like you did. back when he was sixteen, the first time he kissed you, he let himself think about growing old with you there.

maybe taking over the summer activities and planning. living in a small cabin just on the outskirts of camp. he thought about making it into a welcome center for new arrivals, somewhere where they could have a hot meal and have a room of their own before they inevitably ended up in the hermes cabin with his rowdy siblings.

those were the easy days. back when his biggest fear was losing his best friend if he told you how he truly felt about you. it seems silly and trivial now that he looks back at it. he wishes he told you how he felt sooner, just to get those extra years, extra days, extra seconds with you knowing that you were his and he was yours.

but now he's in his twenties and you were six feet under. it wasn't fair and he felt disgusted with himself as he prepared for his first date with a girl chris set him up with from his sociology class at nyu. he knew that you would've wanted him to move on, after all, you always said that your favorite version of him was when he was in love. something about how his eyes sparkle differently and how his voice turns softer, kinder, when he spoke, but luke didn't know how to tell you that he was only like that when it came to you.

the date was fine. the girl was pretty. she had the same hair color as you and same giggly laugh, and luke should be grateful that chris knew his type, but all luke could do was compare her to you. it wasn't fair to the girl. she was lovely and she deserved someone who didn't think about their ex-girlfriend every time they looked at her.

when she showed up to the mom and pops restaurant luke picked out for the date, she was listening to your favorite artist. luke almost felt like he was back in the aphrodite cabin, listening to the song on your record player, swaying you back and forth in a lousy attempt at slow dancing. if he tried hard enough, he swore he could feel the sound of your heartbeat pressed against his chest, reminding him that you were still there, still alive.

it made him so dizzy that his date had to ask him if he was okay. he turned pale, all the color draining from his face. luke meekly nodded and told her a half-truth. i haven't gone on a first date in a while.

the girl smiled at him kindly, just like how you did when you first met him, and told him she understood. she sat across from him and sipped on her water, trying her best to keep the conversation going, but luke could tell that she knew his mind was elsewhere.

his mind was at camp half blood, in the sheds by the strawberry fields. his lips were on yours, a smile grazing his face that you had to pull away to tease him. he was always so smiley with you, no facade of the brooding, tough as nails, hermes head counselor that everyone else got from him. with you, he was luke, young, naive, and helplessly in love. when he closed his eyes, he could still feel the ghost of your lips on his, cherry lip gloss teasing his tastebuds.

his date complimented his necklace and for the first time that night, luke gave her a genuine smile and a look of interest. it was the necklace you bought for him for his seventeenth birthday. you'd saved up all your money from your part-time job at the froyo shop in ohio during the year. it was a silver dog tag with an engraving of mercury and venus circling each other. he hasn't taken it off since you put the necklace on him years ago.

when she asked the story behind it, luke spoke your name for the first time in a year to a stranger. when he caught himself talking about you in the present tense, a bitter taste lingered in his mouth and he had to gulp down the rest of his water to wash it away. he flexed his hand, a nervous habit that he had. and when the girl leaned over to place her own hand over his to steady him, luke pulled away from her like she just burned him.

he apologized profusely and it became clear to the girl that luke was not ready to go on a date with anyone. luke saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes and he wondered if he'd looked like that the entire time, disappointed that it was her in front of him and not you. but then she tapped the back of his hand in a friendly way and leaned back in her chair and said, tell me about her.

you were his favorite topic of conversation. he recalled one too many conversations with chris and the stolls where they'd complain about how every conversation somehow ended up about you. so luke obliged and told her the story of how the two of you came to be. he kept the details vague, deciding that exposing olympus and the existence of the gods would be too much for a first date. maybe sixth, or seventh, but he doubts he'll get that far with her.

when the date was over, the girl gave luke a hug and whispered, i hope you guys get back together. it seems like you really love her.

luke wanted to tell her that if he had the power to be with you again, he would do it in a heartbeat, but that was beyond his control. luke thanked her and said, i hope so, too.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Naughty Nanny Chapter 2

Summary:  Bucky had a lovechild from a one night stand.  He barely even remembered it, and was surprised to find a baby on his doorstep 9 months later.  But one look at that little girl and he knew she was his and that he’d die for her.  The only problem was, he knew nothing about babies, and being an Avenger meant he couldn’t just drop everything and be a dad full time.  Then he found the perfect nanny…or so he thought.

**In this universe Steve never left, Tony never died.** **curvy reader** Warnings: talk of sexual harassment, unwanted/non-consensual touching/sexual assault, eventual smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

“Stupid…fucking…UGH!”  Y/N grunted as she plopped down hard onto the stool in front of the vanity mirror.  She tugged her tall heels off and threw them down on the ground, then pulled the dollar bills from every nook and cranny on her body that she had tucked them into.

“Don’t tell me, he’s here again,” Tiffany, a fellow dancer, sighed and rolled her eyes as she applied more lipstick in the mirror next to her.

“Yes,” Y/N said curtly.  She turned to her mirror and started wiping off her makeup harshly.  “I’m done.  I can’t do this anymore.”

“Officially this time?” Tiffany gave her an unimpressed look.

“Yes, officially.  You just missed the screaming match I had with Benny,” Y/N said, flashing a triumphant smile.  “I quit.”

“Girl, good for you.  Get out of here.  He’s been hounding you for months.  Save yourself,” Tiffany congratulated her with a proud smile.  “What are you going to do now though?”

“I’ve been sending out my resume to a bunch of places.  I got a message from a company about a nannying job.  My interview is tomorrow morning,” Y/N rattled off as she finished wiping off her excessive makeup and shoved her things into her bag.

“You didn’t put this place down did you?” Tiffany asked incredulously.

“Are you crazy?” Y/N laughed.  

Tiffany laughed with her.  “Did you cash out?” she asked as she stood when her cue rang through the backstage intercom.

“Yep.  And hey,” Y/N stood and reached out for a hug.  Tiffany smiled and embraced her.  “You should get out of here, too.  Or go apply somewhere else.  This place isn’t worth it.  He’s not worth it.  It’s not…safe.”

“I know, I’m working on it,” Tiffany said and gave her one final squeeze.  “Text me how your interview goes.”

“I will,” Y/N agreed and hefted her bag onto her shoulder.  “Good luck.”

***

Bucky was up early and ready to go.  He handed Winnie off to Steve so he could finally watch the interviews with potential nannies.  The interviewing process was taking months, with Tony insisting on extensive background checks and finding “the best of the best” as he called it.  Bucky was needed on certain missions, and desperately needed help at night to get the rest for said missions.  Pepper was the head of HR so she would be conducting interviews, while he and Sam watched in the next room with a reflective window between them.

“How many interviews are there?” Sam asked, settling into his chair and opening a bag of candy.

“Eight,” Bucky answered, settling himself down as well while thumbing through the folders of the candidates.

“Ugh, what a great day it’s gonna be,” Sam groaned.

“You don’t have to stay and watch,” Bucky shot back at him.

“I’m an uncle, I know what’s needed for good childcare,” Sam said.

“Sure.  Weren’t you the one who lost Cass at Coney Island a few weeks ago?” Bucky replied.

Sam narrowed his eyes.  “He was perfectly safe.”

“And lost.  At a huge outdoor amusement park.  In New York City.  I wonder how Sarah–”

“Hey!  You said you’d keep quiet!” Sam admonished, throwing a few pieces of candy at him.

Bucky caught one and popped it in his mouth.  “Keep it up, Birdman, and she’s gonna learn about AJ trying out your wings.”  Sam glared at him and sat back quietly.  “That’s what I thought, ‘uncle of the year,’” he smiled mischievously.  

Pepper stepped into the next room with a young man and had him sit down.  “Man whatever.  It’s starting,” Sam griped as he watched the interview.

Bucky was bored by the third interview.  He’d read each candidate’s profile and reviewed their background checks thoroughly, but so far each of them just didn’t seem to have what he was looking for.  He wasn’t even sure what he wanted, just someone who seemed like they could take care of Winnie but also care for her personally.  

“Lucky number seven,” Sam chimed as Pepper shook a woman’s hand.

Bucky looked up from the folder and did a double take.  The woman had a wide, pleasant smile, her plump cheeks making her eyes squint.  She was short next to Pepper’s tall frame, and plus size, her curves slightly jiggling as she walked and took a seat across from her.  She was beautiful and exuded a confidence and self-assurance that made him watch her more carefully.  

“And how do you pronounce your name?”  Pepper asked.

“Y/N,” she answered.  He even liked her voice, soft spoken but firm.  

“She’s pretty,” Sam remarked, seeing the look on Bucky’s face.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed quietly, leaning forward in his chair.

Pepper asked her a number of questions.  “So it says here you got your degree in early childhood education with a minor in music, you were working in a daycare for about ten years, and all your daycare certifications are still up to date.  Is there a reason for your gap in employment on your resume?”  Pepper inquired.

“Yes, I, uh…” Y/N paused, looking down at her hands.  The confident facade slightly slipped as she bit her lip hesitantly.  “I was looking after my mother for a few years, and taking whatever odd jobs I could.  When she died I couldn’t find anything in child care again.  Everything was full.  The job market has been rough the last few years since the Blip,” she replied.  She met Pepper’s stare.  “I’m going to be completely honest with you because, well,” she gestured to the facility around her.  “You guys either know already or will find out.  Um…I was working at a burlesque club before this.”

Sam sputtered, looking down at her folder again.  Bucky’s eyes widened.  Pepper showed no sign of surprise.  “Really?” she asked.  

“Yes.  I’ve always loved the art of burlesque and thought I’d give it a try.  That being said, it was a toxic work environment and I felt unsafe, so I started applying to other places.  I understand if that pulls me out of the running, since it’s not exactly a very ‘upscale’ type of job to have, or could cast a not-so-pleasant light on an institution like the Avengers–”

“Not necessarily,” Pepper chuckled.  “I mean, we have the likes of Tony Stark here, so it’s not that scandalous.”

“True!” Y/N laughed.  “No offense to your husband, of course.”

“None taken,” Pepper laughed with her.  “Of course I’m just the middle man, the parent looking for childcare will make the final decision.”

“Of course,” Y/N agreed, her eyes flicking to the glass behind Pepper.  Bucky almost flinched, realizing she knew someone was watching.

“Otherwise, your resume looks good, and I have no other questions.  We’ll reach out to you with a decision by the end of the week,” Pepper said as she stood.

Y/N quickly stood with her, offering another smile and shaking her hand.  “Thank you.  I look forward to hearing from you.”

As she left the room she looked back at the window and flashed a knowing smile, waving at the people she couldn’t see.  Bucky almost waved back but stopped himself.  “Huh, I like her,” Sam said as he watched her leave.  

“Me, too,” Bucky said, a small smirk growing on his face.

@angelbabyyy99 @capswife @julvrs @bellabarnes1378 @mostlymarvelgirl @mega-kittyglitter-1 @buckitostan @drdbnkl2008 @wintrsoldrluvr @danzer8705

[fluentmoviequoter]

Where I'll Follow

Requested Here!

Pairing: UTRH!Jason Todd x fem!reader

Summary: You follow your best friend to Bosnia, learn his secrets, share your own, and promise that wherever he goes, that's where you'll follow.

Warnings: angst, torture, death, spoilers for Batman: Under the Red Hood

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Masterlist | DC/Jason Todd Masterlist | Request Info

“Again?” you ask, rubbing your hands against your coat sleeves.

“I’m afraid so, Miss,” Alfred Pennyworth replies. “Master Jason is quite busy these days, isn’t he? Could I make you a warm cup of tea before you return home?”

“No, thanks, Alfred,” you reply softly. “Could I come by tomorrow and see if he can hang out then?”

Alfred frowns before he explains, “Master Wayne and Jason will be travelling to Bosnia tomorrow. I’m unsure when they plan to return from the family trip.”

“Bosnia?”

“Yes, ma’am. Are you sure about that tea?”

You don’t answer as you shove your hands into your coat pockets and turn away from Wayne Manor. The winter cold has settled over Gotham, and as you stumble through the thin layer of powdery snow building on the ground, you wonder. Jason has had less and less time for you over the past few months, going on more trips with Bruce and disappearing without a word. But he’s your best friend, so rather than think about all the things he could be doing without you, you wonder why he didn’t ask for help. Jason Todd is many things, but he’s not a liar and does not desert the people he cares about after everything he’s been through. So, as you leave Wayne Manor in the fog, you turn toward the bank. You need to make a withdrawal and save your future.

Less than an hour later, you have used a sizeable chunk of your college savings account to purchase a round-trip ticket to Bosnia. If the account holders are alerted to the withdrawal when the bank opens tomorrow, you will be somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. You know you should talk to Jason and try to find him or Bruce on the plane, but if you let them know you’re following, they’ll find a way to send you home. So, you find your place in the shadows, watching where you step and seeking the truth about why Jason has distanced himself from you.

After landing in Bosnia, you stay close to Jason and Bruce. Because of the time difference, it’s the middle of the night when they check into a hotel, witnessed clearly as you stand behind a streetlamp pole and watch. You know you can’t afford to stay there, so you look around the street until you see a dirty motel sitting across the street from your best friend’s temporary home. After check-in, you sit before the window to watch for Bruce and Jason. Bosnia isn’t a holiday destination, and you’re nearly as suspicious as you are concerned about Jason. After Bruce took him in, he had a hard time adjusting, but he’s made so much progress that you can’t bear to see him go back. Sometime after the sun rises, just after midnight back home, Bruce leads Jason out of the front of the hotel. Bundled in your heaviest jacket and thickest coat, you traipse through the snow-covered streets of Sarajevo to follow them.

“There’s more at stake here, Jason,” Bruce says as they enter a dim alley.

You peek around the corner and your eyes widen as they remove their coats and expose the uniforms beneath them. My best friend is Robin, you realize. Bruce Wayne is Batman!

“C’mon,” Jason complains, even though he’s smiling. “We’re Batman and Robin, crime fighting extraordinaire duo and worldwide sensations!”

“This isn’t Gotham, Jason,” Bruce argues. “If things go wrong, we can’t plead with the embassy, they won’t understand.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason concedes. “But if it’s such a big deal, why don’t they care that Joker’s here?”

“With Ra’s al Ghul bombing banks, Joker is the least of their concerns.”

“Then we should split up. You go after Ra’s, and I’ll go after Joker.”

“Absolutely not,” Bruce replies as you whisper, “No.”

“We stay together,” Bruce reiterates.

You can tell Jason wants to say more, he wants to push Bruce, but he agrees. You smile as you wonder how long it will last, wonder how much they’ll accomplish before Jason splits off from Bruce to do his own thing.

In the shadows of the laboratory, you press your palm over your mouth to silence your fear and surprise. Batman and Robin fight Joker and his goons, and you’re terrified for Jason. The employees are gone, now nothing but blank stares and creepy smiles reminiscent of the monster that took everything from them. So, when Jason launches himself over a masked man to follow the Joker, you don’t hesitate to follow him. You run through the dark hallway until you reach the snow, where you hope no one will notice a missing snowmobile.

Inside the abandoned warehouse, you sob silently into your hands as you watch the Joker beat Jason. There is nothing you can do to help, so you must wait until you can get Jason out without raising suspicion or exposing yourself to the Joker. He swings the crowbar again, likely shattering Jason’s jaw, and you force your eyes closed as Jason groans.

“Wow, that looked like it really hurt,” Joker taunts.

Jason’s grunts fill the warehouse, and you open your eyes, blaming yourself and flinching each time the crowbar touches Jason. When Joker raises his crowbar to decide what hurts more, you jump up from behind the crate you’ve been hiding behind.

“Stop!” you call, hoping that the moment of respite will help Jason somehow.

Joker freezes, the crowbar suspended in the air as he turns slowly toward you. A smile stretches across his face as he asks, “Well, who do we have here?”

“Leave him alone,” you demand, weaker than you intended as you step back.

“Robin, you didn’t tell me you brought a friend, pumpkin,” Joker calls, his eyes still on you.

Your gaze drops, and you see Jason, bloodied, bruised, and curled in on himself, yet his eyes are open and focused on you. You whisper an apology, but Joker silences it.

“Ah, ah, ah!” he exclaims, pointing the tool-turned-weapon toward you. “This is twice as nice. Come here.”

You don’t move, frozen in place as your mind races. Your plan was nonexistent. You couldn’t watch anymore, and now you’ve shifted attention from Jason but beckoned the Joker toward yourself.

“I said come here,” Joker repeats. “I mean now.”

You step back, and Joker lunges forward. You scream as he hooks the crowbar behind your arm and wrenches you forward. With your arms out, you fall to the concrete floor, your knees taking the brunt of your weight as you land.

“Help him up,” Joker demands, wiping Jason’s blood from the crowbar.

You realize with horror that Jason’s blood is smeared across your skin now, too. Joker repeats himself, and you wrap your arms around Jason to pull him into a sitting position.

“What are you doing here?” he whispers, his lips barely moving.

“I wanted to help,” you reply quietly, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

“How’d you-“ Jason interrupts himself with a cough before repeating, “How’d you know I’d be here?"

“We’re best friends.”

Jason tries to smile, and you laugh once as your vision grows blurry with tears. Joker tells you to sit beside Jason, and you sit on your hands so Joker can’t see them shake.

“You two make quite the picture,” Joker says, bouncing the crowbar against his side. “Perhaps I should make you match- oh no, I know! I’ll draw a picture that lines up on each of you!”

You shift closer to Jason, hoping to block him from any more injury, but the movement makes Joker smile.

“He’s a vigilante, he’ll never love you back,” he points out.

“Shut up,” you demand. “Don’t touch him.”

“Oh, you got it.”

You don’t have time to brace yourself before Joker swings. The crowbar hits your side forcefully, knocking you over as your breath is forced out of your lungs. As you struggle to breathe, you are sure he broke one of your ribs, but it’s one more hit Jason doesn’t have to endure.

“Did he tell you he was Robin?” Joker inquires before bringing the crowbar down in a wide arc, landing a hit against your trapezius, where your neck and shoulder meet, which makes you scream in agony. “Oh, he didn’t? Someone’s been a bad little birdy.”

Joker steps toward Jason, and you force yourself onto your knees to block him.

“All of this for a street rat who lied to you?” Joker inquires.

Joker raises his foot, presses his toe against your bloody and painful shoulder, and kicks you backward. You fall beside Jason, crying at the pain in your arm, then tell yourself to get up.

“Matching it is,” Joker decides, smiling as he stands over you.

The crowbar hits Jason again, and you cry more at his pain than at your own. Each hit hurts worse than the last, and as Joker tries to make your bruises and shattered bones match, he belittles you and tells you that you’ll never have Jason back, but your only focus is the boy beside you. Your best friend needs your help, and even if the world is ending, you wanna be next to him.

“Which hurts more?” Joker asks. “Forehand?” he hits Jason’s back, then turns to you and asks, “Or backhand?” before aiming at the same spot.

You pant against the bloody floor beneath you, and Jason mumbles something that makes Joker lean toward him to hear.

“I think you have a collapsed lung,” Joker says. “That always impedes the oratory."

You turn your head just as Jason spits in Joker’s face, a mix of blood and saliva that causes Joker’s nostrils to flare in anger before he grips Jason’s hair and smashes his face into the concrete floor.

“Now that was rude. The first boy blunder had some manners,” Joker says as he wipes his face.

You lock eyes with Jason, and he smiles at Joker before nodding to you. The deep exhale you release hurts, but you trust Jason. Now, you have to trust yourself to get him out of here as soon as you have an opportunity.

“I suppose I’m going to have to teach you a lesson so you can better follow in his footsteps.” Joker contemplates this idea, then decides, “No, I’m just gonna keep beating you with crowbar.”

You’ve given up on bracing for the hits, and you hold Jason’s gaze as Joker presses his foot against Jason’s shoulder. Each moment alone with the Joker makes you more scared that you won’t be able to save Jason from the permanent damage to his body and not when you’d have to travel through miles of snow.

Joker stops suddenly, sets the crowbar aside, and puts on his coat. In the open doorway, his back to the howling wind, he says, “Okay, kiddos, I gotta go. It’s been fun though, right? Well, maybe a smidge more fun for me than you. I’m just guessing since you’re being awful quiet.”

At that, you stretch to look at Jason, shaking as you see his unmoving back.

“Anyway, be a good boy and a good girl. Finish your homework and be in bed by 9:00. Oh… please tell the big man I said, ‘Hello.’”

Joker cackles before he slams the door, and you will the tired, aching muscles in your arms to get you closer to Jason. It hurts. You tamp down screams and cries to reach him. Once you reach his side, you see his eyes are closed and allow your tears to run freely across your bruised and cut face once more.

“Jason,” you whisper brokenly.

One of Jason’s eyes opens slowly, the other red and swollen shut. He doesn’t speak but groans as he rolls his legs over his head and steps through his restraints. With his hands before him, he attempts to stand up, pushing his weight onto his legs before collapsing again.

“Jason, Jason, stop,” you beg.

He moves his arms out before him, prepared to drag himself to the door on the other side of the warehouse. After a deep breath, you copy Jason’s movements and roll to move your hands before you. One of your shoulders is dislocated, but you can extend your arms to match his.

“I’m going to get us out of here,” Jason says.

You nod and crawl to his side. “I’m so sorry,” you cry. You repeat the sentiment every few feet, knowing it means nothing at this moment, in this warehouse.

When you slow down, Jason looks over his shoulder at you. “You have to stay with me.”

“It’s my fault, Jason, I’m so sorry.”

Jason shakes his head and tells you to follow him. When you reach the door, Jason pushes himself up enough to grasp the knob, then pulls on it to stand. The knob doesn’t turn, so he shakes it and tries again before collapsing to the floor with his back against the heavy metal door.

“Jay,” you call, staring at the red analog clock resting against a crate.

He follows your line of sight and then closes his eyes as the bomb counts down. Unable or unwilling to hold himself up any longer, he slides down the door and lies on the floor. With less than a minute to live, you place your hand on the floor beside Jason, yelling at the pain shooting through the nerves in your shoulder as you move your weight over Jason.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his speech slurring more than before.

“I followed you here because I was terrified,” you admit. “You’re my best friend, but I’d do anything for you because I care about you so much. I’ve wanted to be more than friends for years, Jason, and I hate myself for falling for you and risking what we have almost as much as I love you.”

Jason’s swollen eye opens as he stares at you, listens to your confession, and sees that you’re protecting him. Even after everything you’ve been through, you’re still willing to sacrifice your happiness, your own life, for his. The clock ticks down, and Jason doesn’t have the words to say. It’s okay because the look in his eyes and the promise to get you out of here are more than enough.

With less than ten seconds on the clock, you drop your head toward his and whisper, “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow,” smiling as the wind picks up, pushing you closer to Jason before the entire world goes white as snow.

Jason roars as he rises from the green liquid rippling around him. His lungs burn, but his mind is painfully clear. He looks around for you, expecting you to be where you belong, at his side, and then he remembers that you were his protection, his guardian angel, and now he’s left to drag himself through the pits of hell by himself.

Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow, he remembers. Jason escapes into the night with only one thing on his mind: that he lived and he wants to hold you just for a while and he’d die again with a smile next to you.

[bite-sized-tboy]

Big sis who notices you staring at the huge bulge in her tight jeans. "I can see you staring at it, you little shit." You sheepishly try to deny it, but she's not having it. She goes over to you and takes off her jeans to reveal her big, hard cock in all in its glory. You're so shocked you can't think of anything to say. She forces you down onto your knees, and before you even have time to react she starts rubbing her cock and balls all over your blushing face. "Here, take a closer look since you're so fucking fascinated by it." You can't believe this is happening. You've secretly longed for your sister's cock for so long now, but you never thought you'd actually get it. It's even better than you imagined, and you're so mesmerized by what she's making you do that she eventually has to slap you with her cock to get your attention. "Hey, twerp! Open your mouth!" You do so without a moment's hesitation, and she doesn't waste any time either as she begins fucking your face like a fleshlight. "There you go, that's it. Take it all in like a good boy." The floor gets drenched in the drool dripping from your tiny mouth, a mouth which is making noises an innocent little boy should never be making as your big sister keeps pumping her cock in and out, in and out, in and out. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, I think I'm gonna cum!" With one final thrust she shoots her load straight down your throat and into your tummy. "God that felt so good, I should fuck your face more often." She pulls her cock out and slaps you with it again. "That's what you get for staring." She puts her jeans back on and walks away, leaving you on the floor like a toy she's finally done playing with.

- 🏳️‍⚧️

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

i need to save this somewhere to read over and over <3 making a damn new tag for this holy fuck

[hellish-sunsets]

You're an Asshole - Pt 2 - First Attempt

Pt 1

Summary: Adam goes to a concert and tries to win reader over.

Warning: swearing

Word Count: 1,302

------------------------

This was fucking bullshit.

He glared at the stupid list in his hand, squinting at the smudged and blurry ink. The room was quiet save for the ticking of the clock on the shelf somewhere above his head. The only light was from the desk lamp, dim and just enough to light the old wooden desk. It wasn’t the grand mahogany desk of his office at work, but the worn pine of the desk shoved in the corner of his bedroom. The corners were covered in dust, telling of how rarely this desk was used. Why would he? There was plenty of better shit to do.

He was supposed to be going to a concert later tonight. That should be a fuckton more fun than agonizing over this bullshit.

Misogynistic, egotistical, sex obsessed, demeaning, condescending (he was almost certain those two were the same thing but whatever), hateful, violent, foul-mouthed all around rude.

He was sure he wasn't always like this, was he? He huffed, scratching at the stubble on his chin. He chose not to dwell on that thought.  What mattered right now was proving to that stuck up bitch he wasn't an asshole. Even if… he was starting to think maybe he was. But what did that matter? No one was perfect. Besides, he was the first man himself! He was allowed a few more assholeish mannerisms, right? 

Fuck that stupid bitch! This whole thing was fucking with his head. He would just got to this lame ass concert, prove to that bitch he was the most charming, not assholish person in existence, they would fuck and he could be over with this whole fucking situation.

He smirked at himself, leaning back in the chair, the old wood creaking under his weight. He would be sure this night would be worth it.

‐‐—--------------------

Just as he suspected, the concert itself was lame as fuck, some whiny emo bullshit he just couldn't get behind. He spent most of the time looking around for her. What even was her name again? He couldn't remember, not that it mattered. 

He didn't catch sight of her until the concert was almost over, the chorus of the last song clashing over the audience and drowning out their cheers. She was towards the front, the lights flashing and playing across her skin, lighting up her face and broad white smile, long white hair  and wings reflecting the various colors, mostly blues and purples. She almost looked like she was glowing, but that was corny ass couple shit or something. It was just another chick at a concert, just like all these other bitches. 

He let her enjoy the rest of the song before approaching her, the last clash of the cymbals his signal to swoop in.

“Watch this, Lute.” He said with a smirk, elbow digging into her side and making her scowl and roll her eyes. “I'm gonna have this bitch eating out of my hand.”

“I know, sir, just get going before she runs off.” She said with a huff, fighting off a smirk of her own. He gave her a mock salute and headed towards his latest victim, the picture of innocence as she happily chatted with the few winners around her, unaware of how hard she was about to fall for him. He shoved through the crowd, earning scowls he ignored. 

Just be nice. Don't talk about yourself too much. Pretend you care. He could do this, just for one night.

“Hey, ti- uh, toots!” He said with a cocky grin, sliding in next to her. He mentally congratulated himself for not calling her tits. Most chick's didn't like it. He wasn't wearing his mask tonight, figured it would be easier to win her over if he could use his naturally good looks. That, and maybe she was stupid enough to think he was someone else. 

The group around her seemed tense when he showed up. One of them, another chick, tried to grab her arm and drag her away, but she gently nudged them off and offered them a warm smile.

“Hi, Adam. Gotta say, bit surprised to see you around here. Didn't think you liked this type of music.”

Not stupid then. Good, more fun that way. 

“Ya know, just figured I'd try something new.” He said with a half shrug. 

Her eyes lit up, a sparkling sort of blue. He couldn’t make out the exact shade in the dim lighting of the venue. “Good for you! I love hearing new music, it's so interesting to see all the different ways humans come up with to make songs! I also just really like finding what new instruments they come up with! How did you like it?” 

He could feel the smirk slip from his face as he huffed. He had a lot of words to describe this donkey shit of a concert: whiney, pathetic, shit, stupid, fucking lame. But he couldn’t voice any of that. He had to be polite. Eventually he managed another shrug.

“Yeah, definitely not my thing. Still going metal and rock and roll all the way.” That cocky smirk of his returned to his face and she gave an understanding nod. 

“Yeah, fair enough, but I'm glad you gave it a try! Life’s boring if you never try anything new.” She said with that flashing smile. Her friend's hand was on her arm again, but she still wouldn’t follow their lead, not yet anyways. He smirked to himself. He was reeling her in nicely, he was sure. 

“Yeah? And what music do you find rockin'm?” It was a trick question, of course. He had already heard her music before, but he wasn’t about to let that slip. Don't want to give her a big head or something or give off the impression he was some fan. 

“Ah, I don't usually have a genre preference.” She said with a wave of her hand, feathers ruffling slightly as she thought. “It's more like… I have specific songs I like, but no favorite genre. I don't really have a favorite band either. That's kind of fucking lame though, huh?” She said that last part with a nervous chuckle, wings drooping slightly, finger scratching at her cheek.

“Of fucking course not, don't be fucking stupid.” He said with a frown. It was a rather lame attempt at reassurance, but that was the best he could do. Her eyes widened in surprise and he was sure he had fucked it up, but then she flashed that bright smile of hers. 

“Aw, thanks Adam! I guess you're right. Anyways.” She waved it off and continued. “I'm in a band and we do stick to a specific genre, I guess, but that’s just for image, you know? No one likes a band that's constantly changing genre. It's like… folk… punk? I think that's the best way to describe it.”

“Fuck yeah, sounds badass.” And he might have actually meant it? He wasn’t entirely sure. Probably not. “Anyway, want to take this party on the road or something?”

And for a moment he really did think he had her. She gave him that pretty little smile, her wings fluttering slightly.

“Nah, I can’t.” He could feel his face fall and she giggled at that look. “Awww, come on, don’t look so disappointed! I’ve got work to do before bed, but we can hang out another time, okay?” 

It took every fiber in his being to remind himself to keep his cool, play it off, it wasn’t a no. He could still win her over yet.

“Yeah, alright, no biggie. Catch you next time bitch!” He abruptly turned away and marched off, managing to hide the scowl on his face, at least from her.

Next time, bitch. He would fucking get her next time.