#i spent my own money on that and i was fine with it being expensive

[patricia-taxxon]

I want to set the record straight regarding a certain OST for a short film that should be coming out later this year, because one of its directors is making false and hurtful claims about me and my business ethic. After he made a prominent appearance on a drama stream about me & wrote a section of my callout doc, I told him that I wasn't interested in dragging him publicly, but that has felt more impossible as time goes on and I realize the extent of his misrepresentation. I had a vision of this film being able to release quietly in spite of everything, but I don't think that can happen, and I fully expect him to try and hurt my chances at further work.

In 2023, between techdogs 4 and 5, I worked on music for a then good friend's student film. It is by far the most technically difficult job I've ever had, and I did it for free. Now, before you get mad, this is partially (mostly) my fault. I never negotiated a price beforehand, and when I found out partway through that I was working for free, I let it slide for fear of being disruptive. If I was asked to quote a price today, it would have been approximately 900 USD. The work was a hellish and grueling experience, technical in ways I'd never been prepared for, and I sorely regret not putting my foot down, because I was hollowed out by the end of it.

A big portion of his callout against me is concerned with, bafflingly, my decision not to contribute my own money to the film, which at that point would have been a negative paycheck. I didn't pay the thirty dollars that I would've had to pitch in for the film to be screened, and I considered that a fine payment for the nine hundred dollars of work they got from me. He goes on to write that I'm rich anyways, I pay hundreds of dollars on album art (business expenses that I know I'll make back when the music is released) and "furry porn," because apparently if I am occasionally willing to drop a pretty penny on a pleasure purchase then I should simply be compelled to pay them randomly for things I hold no stake in and that I signed no contract for. He also mentions that I paid them later for the DCP file at another screening, of course by that point I had gotten the vibe that they were wanting for me to drop money on their project, so I did, giving the post-hoc justification that "i guess in this case I also care about the film sounding good." He writes "well I guess that was something she deemed worthy" without realizing the implication would then be that he did not see my own work as worthy.

Let me make this clear, this is like if a voice actor worked on my video game for free as a favor with no expectations of royalties, and then I asked them to help me pay to get the game on steam. This is presented along reheated second, third, fourthhand accounts of sexual misconduct.

And before we move on, to the claim that one album artist had to wait for years before receiving payment, this is true. I did forget to pay one artist, and only found out after their assistant contacted me years later, where I then paid six times the asking price as a late fee. I was commissioning over ten album arts every year, and as of now, this is the only time I have made this mistake.

It is impossible for me to refute his claims about the personal time we spent together in Omaha, as it would just be my word against his. I will just say that he should know the omitted reasons that I have grown to feel I was disposed, discarded, and taken for granted by him, and how he has nothing to do with why I hold those memories at that film festival so highly. He also does the classic thing where he positions allowing me to pick the movie in the evening as this favor he did, making me unknowingly rack up debt for a bargain I never consented to.

During all this, he has expressed an existential fear of being harassed for going public about me, and for this reason I want to say that I still hope that this film can be released without a fuss, but his continued participation in a harassment campaign against me has done far more to tarnish his reputation than I ever could. If you really cared about your image, pressure Crim to re-record that drama stream without your embarrassing petty grievances in it & delete your testimony from the callout doc. Thanks.

[baka-monarch]

My aunt: "heyyy I returned the blanket ladder you got for your mom and bought you a different one that was in sale you're welcome"

Oh wow, that's great but also I got that blanket ladder specifically because my mom has had her eye on it for months, and for months she's been teaching me about her decorating style for the house and that specific one I picked was chosen because it matches her aesthetic, I picked that specific ladder for a very specific reason and you returned it to get me a cheaper one to gift to her- that's so so great, but why the fuck wouldn't you at least contact me before you exchanged them so that I could be sure it was one she'd actually like because from the information I've been given it sounds like you got an entirely different one instead of the same thing but on sale, so you exchanged the ladder i specifically picked for my mom without asking or saying anything and just assuming it'd be fine?

[onrainynights]

god im so excited guys aaaaaah! I have work on monday. living in a society where I have to work to survive sucks but oh boy is my sense of self worth tied to whether or not I can contribute financially to my family. yikes

[moniquill]

One of the socialist things I’d like to see ALONG WITH UBI (not instead of) is a government option for all basic neccesities. I am aware that the government option would -suck- and as long as it’s survivably functional, I’m fine with that. When I was a kid, we got monthly commodity food boxes. They’d be filled with food that looked like this:

And in lean months, it would be that and whatever we could get from the garden, or forage/fish, or trade with friends and neighbors. My mom had this awesome recipe for peanut butter balls that utilized the powdered milk, shit-quality peanut butter, and maple-flavored corn syrup that we routinely got in our box and actually made it good. 

I think that these things should be available for purchase at every supermarket, and that the prices should be fixed with relation to the minimum wage. All brands should have to compete with the government option - if SPAM is going to be more expensive than LUNCHEON MEAT in the silver can, then it needs to justify that cost by being better quality.

I want the same thing for housing. I want fucking Commie Blocks to be an option.

This would combat runaway inflation by putting a price cap on survival needs. It would guard against shrinkflation, because a consumers could compare the Government Standard portion to the brands. UBI ought to be such that it covers The Government Option for food, housing, clothing, transit etc. with generous wiggle room for emergency savings and little joys in life. 

Everyone should get their own UBI account in their own name at birth, along with their social security number. It should follow the individual regardless of guardianship. Parents/guardians should have incrementally less and less control over said funds as the child gets older, and should have to provide itemized receipts of how money taken from a child’s account is spent (Similar to what you have to do if you’re in control of an elder’s social security money).

https://www.ssa.gov/ssi/text-repayee-ussi.htm

'Each year, we will ask certain representative payees to complete a Representative Payee Accounting Report showing how they spent and saved the money they received for you during the 12-month report period.'

These are steps that would could easily institute tomorrow be reallocating funding, and they’d have a huge impact on cost of living for everyone.  

This rant brought to you by the fact that store brand canned luncheon meat in my local grocery held fast at a dollar for the better part of two decades but now costs $2.18.

[hard-core-super-star]

the good, the bad, and the dirty [kinktober special]

pairing: sugardaddy!kate bishop x sub!reader x dom!wanda maximoff x dom!carol danver x dom!natasha romanoff

summary: kate might be young and inexperienced but she's a damn good negotiator. so, in search of a merger that will catapult bishop security to the top of the food chain, she shares her most prized possession with the other CEOs.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI -> porn with almost no plot but a bit of exposition; slightly dubcon at first but consent is given!; kate being far too cocky for her own good; daddy kink [kate]; mommy kink [wanda]; fingering [R receiving]; cunnilingus [R receiving]; mentions of humiliation; so many petnames; praise + degradation; brief choking; voyeurism; a dash of petplay/R being referred to as "pet"; implied dom/sub dynamics

wordcount: 3.5k

a/n: hihihi, it's me again! i thought my last fic was the smuttiest fic i'd ever written but i think this one takes the cake. it's an idea i've been toying with for a long time and i'm very excited to send it out to the world. there's so much more i want to do with this concept so the ending is a little open. SPEAKING OF! i'm pretty sure i'll end up writing a part two to my recent wandanat fic so keep an eye out for that. anyway, hope you enjoy <3 [and like always, feel free to share your thoughts via my inbox]

* * * * * * *

Never in your life would you have imagined you'd end up being the girlfriend of one of New York's youngest, and richest, CEOs. More than that, you would have never imagined you'd agree to being her sugar baby. And yet...here you were.

In your defense, Kate Bishop could be very persuasive when she wanted to be. Especially when she wanted something.

You're not sure what about you captivated her so much but you hadn't been able to shake her off after your first meeting. There was nothing even particularly exciting about how you met.

You had gone into a ridiculously expensive, and awfully busy, coffee shop around Fifth Avenue in search of a good drink and a sweet pastry to take the sting off of being fired yet again. In your frustration, you hadn't noticed Kate's speeding form and she'd ended up running into you.

Thankfully, there was no coffee spilled, but that didn't stop the brunette from offering you far too many apologies in a short span of time. You'd never been particularly bold and yet, you told her she could buy you a drink to make up for it.

Your boldness was rewarded by the young CEO and before you knew it, Kate had become a part of your daily routine.

The relationship slowly progressed into something less sweet the more time you spent with her. The more you got to learn about her desires, about her need to take care of her partner in every way possible.

Her trauma probably had a lot to do with that, but instead of spending her money on therapy, she spent it on you. Hence her transition from supportive girlfriend to devoted sugar daddy.

It might not the world's greatest arrangement, by any means, but there's no denying your fondness for the young CEO. 

Sure, she can be reckless and borderline cruel when she wants to be, but for all her flaws, she feels like...safety.

It's what keeps you coming back to her. It's not the money, or the expensive toys, or the endless gifts, or even her looks. It's the way she can read you with a single look. The way she's so fine-tuned to everything that makes you tick. Whether it's in the bedroom or outside of it, Kate knows you. 

More than that, she relishes in it. In knowing you better than you know yourself and guiding you through the ups and downs that come with a relationship like yours.

There's nothing Kate loves more than surprising you with things you've always wanted to try but can never ask for. She gets the usual rush of power that she loves so much, but she also gets to please you, which you're quickly learning matters to her far more than anything else.

Maybe that's why you should have known what she wanted when she asked you to come to the office with her. You knew she had an important meeting set for later in the day, something about a business proposal she was trying to finish up, but she asked you to come with her anyway.

Everything was normal until she felt for her meeting, only to ask you to come into the room a few minutes later.

You obeyed pretty much instantly, but your obidience didn't take away your nervousness as you stepped into the room.

"Come here, princess." Kate's voice is sweet but no less firm as her eyes rake up and down your body.

The underlying command in her words can't be ignored, not that you'd try even if you could. 

You're acutely aware of the eyes trained on you as you make your way over to the brunette. The smirk on her face is far more attractive than it has any right to be and she happily extends her hand out to you once you're close enough.

She helps you climb onto her lap, your back flush against her front. The warmth of her body helps your tense muscles relax as you sink back against her.

"Good girl," she murmurs, her arms wrapping loosely around your waist. "Just sit here and look pretty for me, okay?"

You hum in response and do your best to keep your nervous fidgeting to a minimum.

The meeting resumes as if nothing happened and yet the other women's eyes seem to return to you every few seconds. You try to keep your head down and ignore their looks, but there's a certain fire in them that you can't ignore.

Wanda's gaze seems particularly intense and it makes your thighs clench together despite how badly you don't want them to.

If anybody notices, they don't say anything. Kate's hand makes its way onto your lap, though, her fingers slowly tracing shapes across your thighs.

"You can't be serious, Kate," you hear Natasha say. "A merger will never work."

"Why not?" Kate questions. "We've all got the means to support it and I doubt jealousy will be an issue."

"You sure about that?" Carol asks, her eyes trailing back and forth between you and the young CEO.

Kate's grip on you tightens for a second and you barely hold back a gasp as she lifts your leg up, slowly maneuvering you until your legs are spread and you're completely vulnerable to their gazes. "It's why we're all here, isn't it? I have something you guys want and I want you to accept my proposal. I think there's a way for all of us to get exactly what we want."

"Kate," you whisper, your hand shooting down to grab her wrist.

She shushes you before placing a series of feather-light kisses to your neck. "It's alright, baby. Just trust me."

You do trust her, but no amount of trust can make the situation any less nerve wracking. It's impossible to deny your attraction to the other women, though, and as much as you hate to admit it...a part of you is really interested to see how things will play out.

Kate's never been good at sharing her toys and you can't imagine her possessive instincts won't get triggered once things get started.

You're eager to find out and judging by the way she's squirming under you, your lover feels exactly the same way.

"What do you say, ladies?" The brunette asks. "I'll let you have your fun and then we can get back to business. And by business, I, of course, mean you accepting my proposal."

The three women exchange looks, each of them wearing a different kind of incredulous look. Carol looks surprisingly impressed, Natasha's gaze is glued to the spot between your legs, and Wanda seems mostly amused by it all.

None of them seem particularly against the idea, though, and your blood boils with a different kind of heat. You've never felt more desired in your life.

And sure, maybe, you should feel a little humiliated too but you can't find it in yourself to care. Not when you've secretly fantasized about this for longer than you'll ever let yourself admit.

"And you're sure about this?" Wanda asks, her eyes moving from Kate to you. "Both of you?"

Kate's fingers stop moving, leaving you suspended in the air as you try to catch your breath. The check-in is more than appreciated and you allow yourself to think things over. To truly analyze the situation in front of you.

Unfortunately, the situation in front of you is far too intoxicating for you to be able to think properly. All you can focus on is how incredible their attention feels, how weirdly powerful their desire makes you feel. You don't know it, but you've got them all wrapped right around your finger.

They would do anything for you.

"I'm sure," you say, your voice slightly shaky. "I'm in if you are."

"Told you," Kate says. "My good girl isn't afraid of getting a little naughty."

Her words make you clench around nothing, your thighs attempting to close to ease some of the growing ache settled between in your core. The brunette doesn't let you get too far, though. Her hands drift down to grip your thighs, slowly spreading them wider until you're fully spread out on her lap.

The position leaves you vulnerable and far more aroused than you ever thought you would be. Along the way, your skirt had moved up, giving the three CEOs a tantalizing view of your soaked panties.

Carol groans at the sight of you. "Fuck, look at her, she's drenched."

Her words have an instant effect on you and Kate's nails dig into your skin in an attempt to get you to stop squirming so much.

"She's desperate for you," your lover points out almost absentmindedly. "Are you guys gonna stop stalling, or should I give you a preview of what our deal will give you access to?"

"You're getting cocky, Bishop," Natasha says with a low chuckle. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"Do you?" Kate bites back, her fingers trailing teasingly along your thigh until they reach the soaked fabric of your panties.

The gasp you let out is instantaneous and the sound seems to echo across the large meeting room. It's just one small sound and yet it seems to ignite the same thought in each of the CEOs.

"Fine," Wanda says. "We'll play your game. But don't be surprised when your little girlfriend ends up hooked on us."

 The green-eyed woman's words made Kate laugh. "Trust me, the last thing I'll be is surprised if that happens."

Their conversation did little to soothe your growing need. 

Kate obviously knows that, considering the way she continues teasing you, callused fingers hovering over your aching clit. Your underwear is practically stuck to your slick folds already, giving everyone a perfect view of your dripping entrance.

"Come on, baby." The brunette's breath hits your ear. "You know what you have to do."

You do know. But that doesn't make it any less humiliating. Then again, the slight sting of humiliation also makes it feel better.

"Please," you whimper. "Please touch me. I need you."

Carol can't even try to hold herself back after hearing that. She instantly jumps up from her seat, her smile so sweet it borders on dangerous. "Don't worry, honey, I'll give you exactly what you're begging for."

You're not sure what to expect from her as she approaches you. You watch silently, Kate's hands keeping you spread wide open and grounded in the moment.

"Such a good girl, aren't you, sweetheart?" Carol sinks down onto her knees in front you, instantly leaning in to trail her lips across your inner thigh. "So responsive. It's cute."

Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of her mouth on your skin. Her touch is different from Kate's, no less adoring but far less hesitant. She knows exactly what she wants and exactly what to do to get it. She doesn't even need to ask.

Her fingers drag your ruined underwear to the side and she groans as your cunt is finally exposed to her eager eyes. "Fuck, Kate, how do you not spend all day buried inside her?"

The feeling of a hand wrapping around your throat makes you jump. Your eyes open only to be met with Wanda's dark gaze, her lips curling upward as you relax once more. She doesn't speak her approval but the soft squeeze she gives you is more than enough for you.

"I've done it before," Kate admits. "Pretty sure I've fucked her in every corner of my office."

"That's because you're impatient," Natasha says. "And reckless."

The older woman doesn't sound particularly amused by what's happening in front of her, but you don't miss the way she keeps palming at her crotch. Just because she doesn't seem to pleased by this idea doesn't mean she isn't enjoying the show.

Carol steals all your thoughts away in an instant as her tongue makes contact with your folds. You both moan at the feeling and your hands reach out to grip her hair before you can stop them.

Kate stops them for you, though. She grips your wrists and brings them behind your back without a word. 

The blonde between your legs takes advantage of this and her hands make their way onto your thighs. Your hips buck even as she holds you down, her tongue drawing teasing circles around your swollen clit.

"Hands behind your back, baby," Kate mumbles. "Just let them use you. It''s what you want, right?"

"Yeah-"

"Good girl." 

The praise doesn't come from the brunette, it comes from Natasha and the sound of her approval makes your walls clench around nothing.

"Come on, 'Tasha, stop being such a grump," Wanda says with a roll of her eyes. "We can all tell you're enjoying the show."

"I still don't approve of this."

"You don't have to approve of it to have a good time, detka."

The redhead narrows her eyes, a silent warning in her gaze. Wanda seems unfazed by it, though, clearly more than used to the other woman's prickly personality. "You're worse than the Bishop girl."

Their conversation is interrupted when Carol pushes her tongue inside your tight entrance, drawing out a desperate moan from your throat. Even with her tight grip on your thighs, you manage to buck your hips into her face, nothing but pure desperation driving your movements.

It's a little embarrassing how close you already are to falling apart, but it's not like you can help it. Not when they've all been doing their best to drive you crazy since you walked into the meeting room.

Wanda gives your throat a gentle squeeze in an attempt to bring you attention back to her. "I think someone's getting a little ahead of themselves."

"That tends to happen when she's needy like this," Kate says, easily offering up details of your sex life as if it's nothing.

"Cute." Her free hand finds its way between your legs, her fingers teasing your clit and causing you to cry out once more. "You still need to beg for it, sweetheart."

Your response is instantaneous.

"Please, can I cum?" You beg, ignoring how humiliating it feels.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, baby, Wanda's not easily impressed." Your lover's hands find their way under your shirt and she slowly caresses your heated skin. It's a small thing, but it's designed to remind you she's right there, looking after you and making sure you're okay.

Carol's tongue continues exploring your cunt as Wanda continues playing with your clit, both of them working in tandem to drive you absolutely out of your mind. It works far too well, considering how difficult it is for you to form words.

To top it all off, Kate's hands move up to play with your breasts while Natasha keeps eye contact with you. It's almost like she's challenging you to keep yourself together when it's so obvious that you're an inch away from losing all control over yourself.

As much as you might move being stubborn, there's no way for you to win out over the pleasure. No way to stop yourself from sinking deeper and deeper into their control.

"Please, mommy," you whine before you even know what you're doing. "Please let me cum for you. I wanna be your good girl. Please-"

Despite how messy and borderline incoherent your pleas are, they all take pity on you and wordlessly decide to give you what you want.

"Good girl. Cum for us, sweetheart."

Your body instantly responds to her words, even though she's not usually the person you ask permission from. Kate doesn't seem to care, though, her eager eyes taking in the blissful expression on your face as you let go for them.

"That's my good girl, I'm so proud of you, you're perfect." The brunette continues to whisper endless praises as Carol draws out your orgasm, happily cleaning you up as you make a mess of yourself.

Your body trembles in Kate's lap, chest heaving as the remaining waves of pleasure make their way through you. You're pretty sure you've never had an experience as intense as this one, no orgasm as absolutely breathtaking. (Not that you'll ever tell them that, they're way too competitive to handle the information.)

The hand that's wrapped around your throat moves up, gently tilting your chin until yuo're forced to look up at Wanda. Her usually vibrant eyes are dark and you can practically see every dirty thought that flashes across her mind. No one has to say it out loud for you to know you're far from done.

"You're so fuzzy already, aren't you?" The older woman asks, even though she already knows the answer.

Her thumb brushes your lower lip and you part your lips for her. A warm chuckle slips out of her as you take her thumb into your mouth, your eager submission plastered all over your face.

You can hear Kate's voice, no doubt trying to convince Natasha to take the stick out of her ass and have fun, but your focus is entirely placed on Wanda's eyes and Carol's lips trailing up and down your trembling thighs.

You're not sure how much time goes by like that, with your mind completly submerged under the comfort and safety they all provide you with. All at once, though, things pick up again.

Wanda steps back from you, drawing a whine out of your lips when she takes her thumb with her, and Carol effortlessly picks you up from Kate's lap, strong muscles flexing under her tight shirt. You enjoy enjoy the sight as she carries you over to the meeting table.

She sets you down on the edge of the ornate table and her hands start undressing you before you can even comprehend what's happening. You've always made fun of Kate for being too impatient but the blonde might have her beat considering the way she practically rips your shirt off of you in her hurry.

"Hey!" Your lover pipes up. "That was expensive."

"You talk too much," Natasha says.

It's not until you hear her talk again that you realize she's taken your spot on Kate's lap. Despite the position, there's no doubt who's in control between the two of them. You're sure you've never seen the young CEO so submissive before.

You'd be lying if you said it wasn't an instant turn on.

Your legs wrap around Carol once she manages to undress you, pulling her closer to you with an impatience that rivals hers.

"You're gorgeous, baby," she mumbles as her hands explore your chest, her fingers twisting and pulling at your hardened nipples. "I can't get enough of you."

"Carol," you groan, trying to pull at her clothes only to be pushed onto your back.

"Don't tell me you forgot about me, sweetheart," Wanda teases. 

There's a glimmer of amusement in her eyes as she watches you struggle to comprehend what's happening. It's not like it's surprising considering how hazy they've left you. How thoughtless they've rendered you.

"Aw, Wands, she was enjoying the show," Carol coos, her fingers spreading your folds open to reveal how wet you are. Again.

"Is that right?" Natasha's voice sounds far too close despite the distance. If you try hard enough, you can see her head tilting back, her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure while Kate nips at her neck. "You like watching your daddy be put in her place?"

You nod but Wanda's subtle eyebrow raise is a command you can't ignore. "Yes, I like it. Wanna watch."

"That's adorable...but I'm not quite done with you yet."

Carol doesn't give you a chance to process her words before she's plunging two of her fingers deep inside your sensitive cunt, her groans mixing with your moans and drowning out the sounds of Kate pleasuring Natasha.

Wanda's left out for the moment, busying herself with removing her clothes as she takes in the scene in front of her. She's sure she's never seen a more sucessful business meeting before. None of them will admit it, but Kate's idea was perfect.

[munchkinchild]

Okay, since we're once again playing the "Nesta has to apologise for every single thing she's ever done wrong in her life" game, I thought I'd make a list of nearly everything Feyre has apologise for when it comes to Nesta;

- I'm sorry for insulting the way you looked when you were born saying you had a sneer on your face when I literally didn't exist.

"She wasn’t like Nesta, who had been born with a sneer on her face." ACOTAR CH.2

- I'm sorry for not thanking you for cooking for us every night since Elain and I didn't know how to.

"We dined on roasted venison that night." ACOTAR CH.2

"Heat. I can't cook" ACOMAF CH.54 (Proof that she can't cook)

- I'm sorry for insinuating that you are a horrible person and that our mother realised that on her death bed.

"Or maybe impending death had given her some clarity about the true nature of her children, her husband." ACOTAR CH. 1

- I'm sorry for judging you for trying to befriend the village people because your old friends ignore you.

"Since we had lost our fortune, their former friends dutifully ignored them, so my sisters paraded about as though the young peasants of the town made up a second-rate social circle." ACOTAR CH.2

- I'm sorry for making fun of you, telling you you can't and calling you a burden for wanting to marry an abuser to help the family when I literally said a few paragraphs before how much I was looking forward to you and Elain leaving so I could be alone.

"Sometimes I would even indulge in envisioning a day when my sisters were married and it was only me and Father, with enough food to go around, enough money to buy some paint, and enough time to put those colors and shapes down on paper or canvas or the cottage walls." ACOTAR CH.1

“Believe me,” I said to her, “the day you want to marry someone worthy, I’ll march up to his house and hand you over. But you’re not going to marry Tomas.” ACOTAR CH.2

"If Nesta wanted to leave, then fine. Good. I’d be one step closer to attaining that glorious, peaceful future, to attaining a quiet house and enough food and time to paint." ACOTAR CH.2

"While Tomas might want to marry you … you’re a burden.” ACOTAR CH.2

- I'm sorry for not thanking you for caring about my safety with the mercenary after you had been robbed.

“They’re dangerous,” Nesta hissed, her fingers digging into my arm as she continued to pull me from the mercenary. “Don’t go near them again.” ACOTAR CH. 3

//“Some other one who passed through. We had only a few coins, and he got mad, but—”

“Why didn’t you report him—or tell me?”

“What could you have done?” Nesta sneered. “Challenged him to a fight with your bow and arrows? And who in this sewer of a town would even care if we reported anything?”

“What about your Tomas Mandray?” I said coolly."// ACOTAR CH. 3

- I'm sorry for pushing you away when you showed concern for me sleeping with Isaac.

“I do hope you two are taking precautions.”

“It’s a bit late to pretend to care,” I said." ACOTAR CH. 3

- I'm sorry for complaining about not being included when all I do is exclude myself and judge what you bought with the tiny amount of money I gave you.

"I watched my sisters whispering and laughing together. They’d spent every copper I’d given them—on what, I didn’t know, though Elain had brought back a new chisel for our father’s wood carving." ACOTAR CH. 3

- I'm sorry for almost scolding you for not being able to afford new boots and a cloak when I literally judged you for wanting a new one

"The cloak and boots they’d whined about the night before had been too expensive. But I hadn’t scolded them for it, not when Nesta went out a second time to chop more wood without my asking." ACOTAR CH. 3

-I'm sorry for saying you wouldn't protect me and then in the same sentence say that I know it's because you know that I can fight my own battles.

"I knew—with a sudden, uncoiling clarity—that Nesta would buy Elain time to run. Not my father, whom she resented with her entire steely heart. Not me, because Nesta had always known and hated that she and I were two sides of the same coin, and that I could fight my own battles." ACOTAR CH. 4

- I'm sorry for saying that you were probably happy that I was gone and hoping I had been eaten so you could get attention when you were literally hiking alone trying to cross the wall to find me and save me.

"Nesta must be stretching her legs and smiling at the extra room. She was probably content imagining me in the belly of a faerie��probably using the news as a chance to be fussed over by the villagers." ACOTAR CH. 7

- I'm sorry for trying to put blame on you when you were telling me how you think our father forgets that he literally neglected all of us.

“There are days,” Nesta said as she paused in front of the door to her room, across from mine, “when I want to ask him if he remembers the years he almost let us starve to death.”

“You spent every copper I could get, too,” I reminded her." ACOTAR CH. 30

- I'm sorry for blaming you for not teaching me how to read and write when that was never your responsibility, I never told you and I should've been able to do that because I was 8 when we lost our fortune. I'm also sorry for assuming that your level of reading would be better than mine since I admitted that our mother neglected our schooling.

"Before our downfall, my mother had sorely neglected our education, not bothering to hire a governess. And after poverty struck and my elder sisters, who could read and write, deemed the village school beneath us, they didn’t bother to teach me. I could read enough to function—enough to form my letters, but so poorly that even signing my name was mortifying." ACOTAR CH. 13

- I'm sorry for telling Ianthe everything about you, including where you lived, which ended in her being able to kidnap you and force you into the cauldron.

"I’d told her about the village, and the house my sisters now lived in, about Isaac Hale and Tomas Mandray. I hadn’t been able to mention Clare Beddor—or what had happened to her family." ACOMAF CH. 2

- I'm sorry for telling the IC that you only cared about money and social standing.

“I was born to a wealthy merchant family, with two older sisters and parents who only cared about their money and social standing." ACOMAF CH. 16

- I'm sorry for telling Rhys that I would make you and Elain help the fae with their problems and even consider asking Rhys to force you to help the fae.

//"They might not be happy about it, but I’ll make Elain and Nesta do it.”

"I didn’t have the nerve to ask Rhys if he could simply force my family to agree to help us if they refused. I wondered if his powers would work on Nesta when even Tamlin’s glamour had failed against her steel mind."// ACOMAF CH. 19

- I'm sorry for showing up unannounced to the house with a group of dangerous men and immediately expecting you to be okay with it.

Chapter 23 of ACOMAF ~ it's too long to post.

- I'm sorry for leaving you both to clean up after I'd insulted the food and let complete strangers openly judge you.

//“Is there something wrong with our food?” she said flatly.

I made myself take another bite, each movement of my jaw an effort. “No.” I swallowed and gulped down a healthy drink of water.

“So you can’t eat normal food anymore—or are you too good for it?” A question and a challenge.

Rhys’s fork clanked on his plate. Elain made a small, distressed noise.

And though Nesta had let me use this house, though she’d tried to cross the wall for me and we’d worked out a tentative truce, the tone, the disgust and disapproval …

I laid my hand flat on the table. “I can eat, drink, fuck, and fight just as well as I did before. Better, even.”// ACOMAF CH. 24

//"Cassian’s brows rose—little amusement to be found now. “Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall.” My face began heating, and I opened my mouth. To say what, I didn’t know. “Your sister died—died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make—and insult my people in the process.”

Nesta didn’t bat an eyelash as she studied the handsome features, the muscled torso. Then turned to me. Dismissing him entirely."// ACOMAF CH. 24

"My sisters cleaned the dishes while we worked, and had excused themselves to bed hours before, mentioning where to find our rooms." ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for calling you a creature after Rhys insulted you and saying it's the kindest thing I could say about you.

“Nesta is a delight, by the way.”

“She’s … her own creature,” I said. It was perhaps the kindest thing I could say about her." ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for not standing up for you when Rhys claimed that only Elain cares about me and that it's your fault for not protecting me.

"Rhys didn’t answer. Instead he said, “I didn’t think I could get through that dinner.”

“What do you mean?” He’d been rather … calm. Contained.

“Your sisters mean well, or one of them does. But seeing them, sitting at that table … I hadn’t realized it would hit me as strongly. How young you were. How they didn’t protect you.”

“I managed just fine.” ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for saying that you let me go into the woods when you aren't my mother or responsible for me.

“But if I hadn’t gone into those woods, if they hadn’t let me go out there alone …" ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for allowing Rhys to say he can't look at you without wanting to roar at you when he doesn't know a single thing about you.

“but it will be a long while yet before I can look at your sisters without wanting to roar at them.” ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for comparing the anger I felt about Eris and the nail in Mor to Rhys hating you for your "failings"

"And I understood—why Rhys could not endure Nesta for more than a few moments, why he could not let go of that anger where her failings were concerned, even if I had." ACOMAF CH. 41

- I'm sorry for forcing you to help in a war you had no original part in and for telling Rhys I would make our desperation obvious so they're manipulated into helping.

//"Let me figure out how to deal with both of them, as family, but mostly as their High Lady.

Mor’s face tightened, but I shook my head. “I can—ask my sisters. See if they have any sort of power. See if they’d be willing to … talk to others about what they endured. But I won’t force them to help, if they do not wish to participate. The choice will be theirs.” I glanced at my mate—the male who had always presented me with a choice not as a gift, but as my own gods-given right. Rhys’s violet eyes flickered in acknowledgment. “But I’ll make our … desperation clear.”// ACOWAR CH. 16

- I'm sorry for repeatedly asking you to tell complete strangers what happened to you in the cauldron after you had said no several times and I'm sorry for trying to abuse my power as High Lady to manipulate you into telling your story

//“And we might need your assistance during the meeting with the High Lords—to provide testimony to other courts and allies of what Hybern is capable of. What was done to you.”

“No.”

“You don’t mind fixing the wall or going to the Court of Nightmares, but speaking to people is where you draw your line?”

Nesta’s mouth tightened. “No.”

High Lady or sister; sister or High Lady … “People’s lives might depend on your account of it. The success of this meeting with the High Lords might depend upon it.”

She gripped the arms of her chair, as if restraining herself. “Don’t talk down to me. My answer is no.”

I angled my head. “I understand that what happened to you was horrible—”

“You have no idea what it was or was not. None. And I am not going to grovel like one of those Children of the Blessed, begging High Fae who would have gladly killed me as a mortal to help us. I’m not going to tell them that story—my story.”

“The High Lords might not believe our account, which makes you a valuable witness—”

Nesta shoved her chair back, chucking her napkin on her plate, gravy soaking through the fine linen. “Then it is not my problem if you’re unreliable. I’ll help you with the wall, but I am not going to whore my story around to everyone on your behalf.”// ACOWAR CH. 18

- I'm sorry for trying to force you to train when you said multiple times you didn't want to.

"But then I said, “Why won’t you train with Cassian?”

Nesta’s spine locked up. “Why is it only Cassian that I may train with? Why not the other one?”

“Azriel?”

“Him, or the blond one who won’t shut up.”

“If you’re referring to Mor—”

“And why must I train at all? I am no warrior, nor do I desire to be.”

“It could make you strong—”

“There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives. Amren told me that yesterday.” ACOWAR CH. 24

- I'm sorry for telling you off for not being respectful to the healer when you were rightfully annoyed that no one was helping Elain, accusing you of barking at them and snapping at you to "be quiet" when you were worried.

//“How.” The word was barely more than a barked command.

I braced myself to warn Nesta to be polite, but Madja said to my sister, as if she were a small child, “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

The healer’s tone made my sister stiffen, but Madja was already hobbling for the front door. She pointed at Lucien as she saw herself out. “Try sitting down with her. Just talking—sensing. See what you pick up. But don’t push.” Then she was gone.

I whirled on Nesta. “A little respect, Nesta—”

“Call another healer.”

“Not if you’re going to bark them out of the house.”

“Call another healer.”

I caught Lucien’s eye. “Would you try it?”

Nesta snarled, “Don’t you even attempt—”

“Be quiet,” I snapped.

Nesta blinked.

I bared my teeth at her. “He will try. And if he doesn’t find anything amiss, we’ll consider bringing another healer.”// ACOWAR CH. 28

- I'm sorry for winnowing away when we were going somewhere together, leaving you with a man you felt uncomfortable around and calling me doing that "sisterly payback" because you're attitude was not what I wanted it to be.

"Ready for some flying, Nes?”

“Don’t call me that.”

The wrong thing to say, from the way Cassian’s eyes lit up.

I chose that moment to winnow to the skies above the House, chuckling as wind carried me through the world. Some sisterly payback, I supposed. For Nesta’s general attitude." ACOWAR CH. 30

- I'm sorry for not believing you when you told me that we weren't safe, telling you that because the others don't think anything is wrong, it's all fine.

“We need to leave,” Nesta said. “Right now.”

Every sense went on alert. “Why?”

“It feels wrong. Something feels wrong.”

I studied her, the clear sky beyond the towering, drape-framed windows. “Rhys and the others would sense it. You’re likely just picking up on all the power gathered here.”

“Something is wrong,” Nesta insisted.

“I’m not doubting you feel that way but … If none of the others are picking it up—” ACOWAR CH. 47

- I'm sorry for telling you that I would build a shower for you after you told me you can't take baths anymore and then never doing anything.

Nesta studied me for a long moment. And then she said with equal quiet, though we could all hear, “I can’t get into a bathtub anymore. I have to use buckets.”

I hadn’t known—hadn’t even thought that bathing, submerging in water …

I knew better than to touch her hand. But I said, “When we get home, we’ll install something else for you.” ACOWAR CH. 52

- I'm sorry for judging where you spend your time.

"Nesta shrugged. “She could have eaten with me here.”

“You know Elain wouldn’t feel comfortable in a place like this.”

She arched a well-groomed brow. “A place like this? What sort of place is that?” ACOFAS CH. 13

- I'm sorry for forcing you to come to a religious holiday you don't celebrate and judging the place you want to celebrate in. And then trying to use our father's death as a way to guilt you into coming.

//"Finally, my sister looked back at me. “So you’re bribing me, then?”

I didn’t flinch. “I’m seeing if you’re willing to be reasoned with. If there’s a way to make it worth your while.”

Nesta planted the tip of her pointer finger atop her stack of cards and fanned them out across the table. “It’s not even our holiday. We don’t have holidays.”

“Perhaps you should try it. You might enjoy yourself.”

“As I told Elain: you have your lives, and I have mine.”

Again, I cast a pointed glance to the tavern. “Why? Why this insistence on distancing yourself?”

She settled back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Why do I have to be a part of your merry little band?”

“You’re my sister.”

Again, that empty, cold look.

I waited.

“I’m not going to your party,” she said."//

//“Father would want you to—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence.”// ACOWAR CH. 13

- I'm sorry for withholding your rent unless you came to an event you didn't feel comfortable coming to and then when you came, ignoring you and being insulted you didn't get me a gift when I didn't get you one.

//She swigged from her glass. “It’s due next week. In case you forgot.”

I said flatly, “Come to Solstice and I’ll make sure it’s delivered.”// ACOFAS CH. 13

//"It occurred to me only when she said the words that none of the gifts in this room had Nesta’s name on them."// ACOFAS CH. 20

//"Nothing from Nesta, but I didn’t care. Not one bit."// ACOFAS CH. 20

//"Nesta watched warily from her chair, Elain’s present—her only present—in her lap."// ACOFAS CH. 20

//“Here.”

Nesta half turned toward me, focus darting to what was in my hand. The small slip of paper.

The banker’s note for her rent. And then some.

“As promised,” I said.

For a moment, I prayed she wouldn’t take it. That she would tell me to tear it up."// ACOFAS CH. 20

- I'm sorry for not saying anything when Amren openly slut shamed you.

“Though I bet it’s hard to look good,” Amren went on, “when you’re out until the darkest hours of the night, drinking yourself stupid and fucking anything that comes your way.”

Feyre whipped her head to the High Lord’s Second. Rhys seemed inclined to agree with Amren. ACOSF CH. 1

-I'm sorry for telling you that you embarrassed "my family" when you're my sister.

Do you know how embarrassed I was when we got the bill this morning and my friends—my family—had to hear all about it?”

Nesta hated that word. The term Feyre used to describe her court. As if things had been so miserable with the Archeron family that Feyre had needed to find another one." ACOSF CH. 2

- I'm sorry for painting everyone but you and then only painting you when I decided that you had earned it.

//"Every piece of art had been picked by Feyre herself, or painted by her, many of them portraits and depictions of them—her friends, her … new family.

There were none of Nesta, naturally.// ACOSF CH. 1

//"She’d joined them at the river house one night to find a mating present from Feyre waiting for her. Hanging on the wall in the grand entry.

A portrait of Nesta, holding the line at the Pass of Enalius."// ACOSF CH. 80

-I'm sorry for telling you that I would tie you up and force you to go to the House of Wind when I myself should know what it feels like to be locked up against my will.

"You’re going, even if you have to be tied up and hauled there." ACOSF CH. 2

I can go on...

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

would you consider writing a part 2 to ‘Lost’ where Reader goes to the high end stores with their gf’s and they tries to hide that they can’t afford it. They just compliment their girlfriends when they try something on and doesn’t try anything on themselves. She just says she doesn’t want anything.

Lost part 2

read part 1 here

|| poly!plastics x fem!reader

(i myself am poly)

|| Warnings; swearing, Regina being Regina, reader feeling left out, brief hookup mentions but nothing actually happens

|| Summary; the plastics take reader to a fancy store in the mall, but reader can't afford it so she spends her time complimenting them. Regina takes notice and takes matters into her own hands.

Requests open!

Started; october 12th

Finished; october 12th

~~~

Once they were sure you were okay, they took you to all their favourite spots in the mall. Gretchen kept an arm linked around both you and Karen, knowing that Karen also has a tendency to wander off but now she had to worry about losing you too. Regina lead the way, going to the most expensive looking store first with a massive smirk on her face that screamed 'I'm rich, you're not'.

You followed them in, looking at all the clothes with a sense of longing. The most your parents had given you for this trip was $20. Which looked completely stupid compared to whatever Regina clearly had, probably $1,000 at least.

Regina, Gretchen and Karen spent at least an hour in the store trying on various things with you as their personal cheerleader. Constantly assuring them things like "you look hot" "absolutely beautiful" "gorgeous as always". After the hour mark, Karen realized you haven't put on anything yet.

"Y/N, we should find you something!" There was an excited grin on her face and Gretchen turned her attention to you.

"Oh my God, yeah! We haven't seen you in like anything yet." Gretchen agreed, trying to drag you over to the clothes to help you pick one.

You dug your heels so she couldn't, making her pause and look at you in confusion. "Baby?"

"I..." You try to come up with an excuse for the fact that you couldn't afford it. And if the slightest thing happened to whatever you put on, you knew you wouldn't have the money to fix it. And you definitely didn't want to rely on Regina," I just don't feel like trying anything on."

Regina looked over from the rack she had been at and eyed you suspiciously, looking you up and down. She knew it was a lie, she could just tell but decided to be quiet on it. It was your choice.

"Aw, really?" Gretchen almost pouted, giving you a small tug to see if you would try. When you didn't budge, she huffed and let go.

Karen frowned and walked over," don't you want to play dress up with us?"

"Maybe another day." You shuffle you feet awkwardly, moving to go sit back down on the bench where you'd been before. Your mood having dropped completely. You had originally been excited for today and now you're starting to think you should have played sick and stayed home.

Gretchen and Karen shared a look, while Regina contemplated something in her head before sighing. She walked over to you then grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you into the closest change room; confusing Gretchen for a moment, though she then realized that Regina was probably just trying to hook up.

She wasn't, though. Much to your disappointment. Regina folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow at you," stop acting so miserable just cause you're broke. I'll give you some spending cash." She offered, which made you tense up a little. Had it been that obvious? You were grateful she at least thought to take you somewhere more private before calling you out.

"Regina, it's fine.." You couldn't help feeling guilty if you took her money.

Regina rolled her eyes," shut up, I'm trying to be nice and your guilt is ruining it. How much money did your parents give you for this?" She was forward, more forward than you were ready for but you honestly should have expected it.

"$20." You muttered, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"Yeah, no. Take it." She handed you $300, which made your eyes widen and she rolled her eyes again," you're my girlfriend which means your reputation is my reputation. I'm not having a broke girlfriend." Her words were harsh, maybe. But she was just trying to hide that she actually did have a soft spot for you and she felt bad you didn't have anything. What the hell were your parents thinking? $20s wouldn't give you shit in this mall.

"I- thank-" She cut you off, pulling you in for a kiss as she pushed you against the wall. Completely catching you off guard but you kissed back with ease.

When she breaks the kiss, she looks into your eyes and smirks," don't be lame. Losers say thank you."

You just nodded and she walked out of the change room, you following behind with $300 in your pocket.

"Change of plans, girls! Y/N will be getting stuff here." Regina looked back at you with a knowing smirk, Gretchen and Karen immediately looked excited again and dragged you along to the clothes.

You ended up getting a couple of really nice outfits, all secretly paid for by Regina. Though Gretchen had her suspicions about it.

The rest of the field trip went well, despite the rocky start and middle; but you couldn't wait to be home. You made a mental note to thank Regina later, ignoring what she had said about that.

[silentsneezes]

ignore this if you only write mlm but caitvi allergiessss.....

i generally write mlm relationships because i tend to hyper fixate on them more often, but i'm always happy to receive any asks! it's my first time writing cait/vi, so if their dynamic is off just lmk!

with that said, here's 1.4k of v/i suffering from allergies

After an admittedly rocky start to their relationship, Vi and Caitlyn have managed to settle into a peaceful domesticity. At least, as peaceful as it can be for the couple. They’ve only been living together for a couple of months, and it’s certainly had its ups and downs. Except now they seem to have found a steady contentment in sharing Caitlyn’s old apartment, which is nice by any standards. Its rich architecture differs vastly from the home Vi was raised in, but she’s started to make it her own as well: hanging posters where Caitlyn permits, reorganizing cupboards to better accommodate her height, and framing pictures of her family in the living room. 

There’s only one problem that’s currently at the forefront of their focus. It’s not nearly as pressing as any of the issues they've faced before, but it’s giving Vi one hell of a time. The problem being spring in Piltover; everything is in full bloom, flowers displayed proudly in most yards or gardens, and the spring breeze carrying enough pollen to create a yellow coating over most outdoor areas. 

Vi’s allergies have only really set in the past few days as spring has officially come about, and they’re practically insufferable for her. She’s not one to admit to weaknesses or discomfort, especially not to those she cares deeply for– ironic, isn’t it? The only person who can level with her stubbornness is Cait, and even then it’s a painstaking process. 

The couple sits idly in their living room, Vi’s leg draped over Cait’s as she stretches out on their couch. The windows throughout the apartment are sealed tightly, despite Caitlyn’s typical preference of leaving them ajar to allow for a pleasant breeze. She’d learned her lesson two days ago, having left the bedroom window without second thought, only to wake up to Vi muffling a fit into her pillow. It’s safe to say she won’t be doing that again.

As Vi pesters her nose with her shirt sleeve, rubbing the itchy appendage side to side roughly, Cait pulls a neatly folded handkerchief from her pocket, murmuring a soft, “here” as she offers it to her girlfriend.

“I’m fine, cupcake. I don’t want to soil your- hhhh-handkerchief,” Vi denies, her voice catching part way through the sentence but still continuing with steadfast determination. Cait rolls her eyes at Vi’s denial of her handkerchief, her gaze flicking down to observe the wet patch forming on her girlfriend’s sleeve. 

“So you’d rather soil your shirt instead?” she teases, pressing her hankie into Vi’s palm despite her refusal. 

“Point taken,” Vi mumbles, rubbing the silky synthetic fabric between two fingers. She turns it over, grinning as she notices Caitlyn’s initials embroidered neatly in the corner of the white cloth. She bites her tongue from teasing Caitlyn, knowing her girlfriend chooses to indulge in expenses such as these. Afterall, who is she to judge? If she’d grown up as rich as Caitlyn, she probably would’ve spent money on much more trivial things than embroidering a handkerchief— likely excessive amounts of booze and a good pipe similar to the one Vander had always used.

She smiles at Caitlyn with a fond expression, raising a hand to cup her cheek. Her fingers are rough and calloused against Caitlyn’s porcelain skin, and yet Caitlyn leans into the touch, her eyes drifting closed in a moment of vulnerability.

A moment rudely interrupted by the recurring itch plaguing Vi’s nose, “hhH- god, this fuckhhing- hhuh- hhH’sZSsChhew!” 

“Ble-,” Caitlyn starts, only to be interrupted with a second, “hhHSZxChh!” caught into the folds of the handkerchief. 

“Bless you,” she murmurs softly, watching as an allergic tear slips down her cheek, “oh darling, your allergies really are miserable today.”

Vi snorts back the liquid clinging to the base of her nose with a rough snNRK. Caitlyn restrains herself from tutting, hearing her mother’s sharp command of “Manners, Caitlyn,” ring in her ears. But she is not her mother, for better or for worse, so she shoves aside the urge to correct Vi’s behavior. 

Vi leans forward as she groans, burying her nose in Caitlyn’s shoulder and mumbling, “you’re lucky I love you enough to live here.” 

Caitlyn laughs, a hand coming up to stroke Vi’s hair, “lucky to hear your symphony of sneezes, hm?” 

Vi doesn’t reply, instead pulling away from her girlfriend and pitching to the side. She barely raises her arm in time to half-cover the sudden expulsions, “hh’ehTSCHhhew– hhKsSXCHh!” 

“Goodness, bless you,” Caitlyn exclaims in slight surprise at the force of the sneezes, cringing ever so slightly at the spray that lingers in the air. 

Vi keeps her wrist held loosely in front of her face as she scrunches up her twitching nose, trying to coax out the next sneeze. After a particularly disappointing false start, Vi finally lowers her hand. 

“You know, the handkerchief is only helpful if you use it,” Caitlyn prompts in amusement. 

Vi huffs quietly, but picks up the hankie and wipes her nose roughly, leaving it tinged with a pinkish red hue, “happy now?” 

“Very,” Caitlyn murmurs, her hand returning to its position on Vi’s head. Her fingers work their way through her girlfriend’s pink hair, scratching gently along her scalp and eliciting a quiet noise of contentment, one only Caitlyn has the privilege of hearing. 

“How do Pilties- hhh- live like thhhHis…not aghhain,” Vi’s taunt is broken between hitching breaths, her frustrated expression melting into her customary ‘pre-sneeze’ expression. A few seconds pass, silent save for her huffing and hitching. She groans as it only results in another false start, berating her nose once again. 

“I’d suspect most Zaunites are sensitive to the pollen in Piltover. Our ecosystems-”

“hhHSZCchh! snDf. Sorrhhy cupcake, not dhhH- hhK’tSCHhh! done,” Vi excuses lamely, tilting her head back against the couch in exasperation. Her nostrils flare, quivering with every inhale she takes. 

“Bless you, bless you darling,” Caitlyn murmurs for what must’ve been the hundredth time that day. Vi had given up in trying to convince Caitlyn to stop blessing her every time, knowing her girlfriend’s manners are far too ingrained for her to stop. 

“Thangks,” Vi mutters, kneading her nose against the palm of her hand with a wet squelch. 

“Vi,” Caitlyn tuts, unable to resist the slight admonishment at her partner’s lack of etiquette.

“Cait,” Vi responds with a grin, lowering her hand and smirking at her girlfriend's slight annoyance. Wordlessly, Caitlyn presses the handkerchief back into Vi’s hand, reminding her that there’s a better way to attend to her nose than with her palm. 

Examining the fabric again, Vi questions, “you really take this everywhere you go?”

“Yes, I do,” Caitlyn responds, her hand resuming its gentle affection against Vi’s scalp. 

“Hm, seems like a lot of work just to carry around a snot rag.” Caitlyn scoffs slightly at Vi’s use of the words “snot rag”, flicking her head in response. 

“Hey!” Vi laughs, “I’m just saying, it can’t be- hhH- can’t- hheh… hhiH-”

“Can’t what, love,” Caitlyn teases, knowing Vi will take it as a challenge to speak through the building sneezes. 

“Can’t bhhHSZXSxch! be saniiiH-iHSKSCHHhew! sanitary to hhuh- fugkKHSSZsch’uh!” Vi gives up, fumbling to grab the hankie and muffle the ensuing fit. Caitlyn’s initial amusement dissipates as Vi snaps forwards with sneeze after sneeze, gasping between each expulsion. 

Her hand moves to rub Vi’s back, murmuring soft comforts as the fit unfolds, “there you go, just breathe… I’ve got you… oh, that was a big one, hm?”

Once the sneezing subsides, Vi blows her nose messily into the folds of the handkerchief, tossing its sodden form onto the coffee table once she’s done. 

“Bless you Vi. Are you okay?”

“I’mb ogkay- snDFF- I’m okay,” Vi mutters, resting back against Caitlin in exhaustion, “but your handkerchiefs not,” she jokes with a slight grin.

“Nothing a simple wash won’t fix,” Caitlin reassures her, her eyes flicking to see the discarded fabric, wet with mess. 

The couple remains on the couch for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening, staying closely intertwined as Vi struggles to control her allergies. Eventually, thank god, she finally agrees to take medicine to minimize her symptoms. Stubborn as she is, even she can recognize that she was fighting a losing battle. 

[vvmylove]

Can you do a Gitae Kim vs kwak Jichang who will wins reader heart headcanon?

Who will win readers heart?

May contain some suggestive ideas

Gitae

Okay I can understand that he is hot and "oh please ruin my life," but I don't know much about him. He is very cold-blooded and won't hesitate to take another person's life for his own satisfaction.

He gives off the same vibes as Eugene💀.

Hear me out: You cannot tell me Gitae is bad in bed- is swear this man is aggressive and will use you- some people may be into that. I mean, I wouldn't mind being tossed around (by goo)

I have a sense that even though he may be boy trash(positive), he is very loyal and protective. Insane but in a positive way. He will kill for you, he will die for you, he will stay by your side no matter what.

Would come home after a long fight with flowers and a box of cigarettes talking about "Short-cake, I got ya my favorite beer (emphasis on HIS favorite) but you wouldn't mind it. He does seem like the type to rub your back afterwards.

Would drive you around in his little junk car he spent a fortune trying to fix while blasting music. He seems like a careless driver, but anything for the trill ya know! He would drive at night on the highway, blasting music as he slams his foot on the gas pedal. One hand will be on your thigh while the other on the steering wheel.

He is very carefree about things. It doesn't matter if you dress like a slut or go out in lingerie because this man can FIGHT. If any man looks your way, he will just throw some sort of weapon at him. There is no need for him to go over there and kick his ass when anything around him can be used as a weapon.

THIS MAN WILL SPOIL YOU! Doesn't matter if he doesn't have money, he will find and spoil you. Though, he wont put in much effort into spoiling you. He will just be like "take my card babe," while he goes to kiss Charles' ass.

This dude? WOULD RUN AWAY WITH YOU!! All you gotta do is say so and this man will sweep you off your feet and start walking out the door. He wouldn't mind living in a cabin, as long as you cook. Will hunt a bear with his bare hands.

Jichang

They say the guys with a J name will mess your life up, WRONG!!! (unless yall break up). this FINE MAN will treat you right. Yall already KNOW that this man is classy. Will treat you right. Very Loyal.

I lowkey feel like this dude has attachment issues. He can only focus on one thing (person) at a time. So you gotta make sure his eyes aren't on anyone else's.

Though, he would love spoiling you. He would put more thought into it, buying your favorite things. He would rent out a venue just because you said you wanted to dance, buying you an expensive dress that you saw on Pinterest, a display of food on the table as he stands there in his suit. "Princess, this is all for you."

He would make a house a home- you cannot tell me this man doesn't know how to cook. All you need to do is give him a recipe and watch him cook. He will pick you up by the waist and place you on the counter. "Give me a min hon," he says before placing a peck on the lips, then goes back to cooking.

WILL HOLD THE DOOR OPEN FOR YOU!!!! IDC IDC

Stares at you in awe all the time idc idc this man STARES at you.

He is the comforter, always comforting you. He will cuddle with you in his arms, play with your hair, feed you sweets, all while whispering cute little things in your ear. I fear this man loves romance a little too much.

WILL TRY TO GET INSPIRATION TO TREAT YOU RIGHT OFF TV SCENES. Hear me out. In a movie he will see some cringe kissing scene reenact it with you. Its more like, you both are on a date outside, walking by the beach, he would spin you around by grabbing onto your shoulder then kiss you. This cringe mf.

I got a lot of good things to say about this man idk hes just a lover.

I think it depends on the man you prefer. We are all delulu here. If you prefer a more insane and possessive (Gitae) or a more calm and classy man (Jichang).

[msklassickilla]

Prada You Chapter 20

Summary:

In the summer of 1998, sparks fly between Nyeya and Jey.

Nyeya is an 18-year-old around the way girl. Jey is older, paid, and fine. He is also the leader of the infamous Prada Bois alongside his twin brother Jimmy.  The two have chemistry. However, Nyeya has plans outside of her attraction. With a birthday around the corner and dreams of living a good life, Nyeya sets her sights on enjoying the perks of Jey's money and hood celebrity.

But baby girl has no clue what it takes to really be down. Nyeya is about to learn some hard life lessons at the expense of her 'Prada' priced dreams.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya (Nye) Green (OC)

Author’s Note: This story is happening in an alternative universe. It features the current and original Bloodline members along with other WWE stars. So, the characters are themselves, but some things are switched around for the stories sake. This was originally written with all original characters, but I think it could work better this way. Hope you guys enjoy it and I actually finish it...

Warning: Please be advised that this chapter contains harsh/foul language, mentions of underage drinking, age gap relationships.

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Chapter 20: Truth & Lies

August 4th 1998

The sun was blazing down, the humid summer air making the basketball court shimmer like a mirage. I sat at the picnic table under the patchy shade of a scraggly oak tree, fanning myself with a folded flyer someone had left behind. Kiyah and Natasha were across from me, chattering away, their voices weaving through the sound of kids shouting and sneakers squeaking against the blacktop.

Kiyah’s face lit up as she leaned forward, dropping her chin into her hands. "Okay, so let me tell y’all about Big Daddy Jacob."

"Ooh, spill!" Natasha said, her eyes glinting with excitement. "Y’all getting serious, or is he still just a good time?"

Kiyah grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Girl, I like him a lot. Like, for real. And that lil’ night we spent together. Let’s just say… I did what needed to be done."

I let out a laugh, shaking my head as Natasha clapped her hands together, squealing. "You’re too much, Kiyah."

"Oh, it gets better," Kiyah said, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. "I’ll be moving into his pockets shortly. I need them probation fees paid a.s.a.p."

The three of us burst out laughing, the sound carrying across the court. For a moment, everything felt light and carefree, like the weight of the past few weeks had lifted just enough for us to breathe.

"Alright, Nye," Natasha said, turning her attention to me. "Enough about Kiyah’s sugah daddy adventures. What’s up with your party? You ready?"

I shrugged, though a small smile tugged at my lips. "I’m getting there. Jey’s handling most of it. He already rented out a nightclub downtown and took care of the decorations, food, and music. Like I didn’t have to do none of that. All I gotta do is find an outfit."

"A whole nightclub?" Kiyah’s eyes widened. "Damn. That shit gon’ be nice as fuck. Girl, you better show out. That’s gonna be a night to remember."

Natasha nodded enthusiastically. "For real. This is big. I just know everybody gone be there."

"That’s exactly what I was thinking. Party gon’ be full as hell especially with all the boys being there," I replied, my smile faltering slightly. Outwardly, I was as excited as they were, but deep down, something wasn’t sitting right. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was coming, like a storm I couldn’t see but could feel in the air.

I pushed the thought aside, forcing myself to focus on the present. "It’ll be fun," I said, my voice firmer this time. "We just gotta make sure our outfits is on point."

The girls squealed; their excitement infectious. Kiyah reached over to slap my arm. "Don’t even stress it. We all gon’ look bomb. That’s our night to shut shit down."

---

August 5th 1998

The next day, I was standing at the sink, up to my elbows in soapy water, when I heard the front door open. Mama’s voice floated in, tired but warm. "Nyeya, finish those dishes and come talk to me."

"Okay, Mama," I called back, rinsing off the last plate and setting it in the drying rack. Wiping my hands on a towel, I made my way to the living room, where she was sitting on the couch, her shoes kicked off and her hair tied up in a scarf. She patted the cushion beside her, and I sat down, the heaviness in her gaze immediately putting me on edge.

She reached out, gently caressing my face. "You been alright?"

"Yeah, Mama. Why?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. My stomach churned, sensing that whatever was coming wasn’t going to be easy. The scratch on my face had begun to fade but I still felt uneasy under her watchful gaze.

Mama’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Nat told me she heard you and Kiyah was fighting at the arcade Saturday night."

My heart dropped. Nat had been a family friend for as long as I could remember, but I hadn’t expected her to run back to Mama with what she’d heard. How did that even get back to her to know that? Michael was right, eyes were everywhere.

"It wasn’t that serious," I said quickly, hoping to downplay the situation. "Just some girls running their mouths."

Mama’s eyes narrowed slightly. "And who’s this guy friend you’ve been running around with, the one you were supposed to be with?"

I froze, my mind racing. "He’s… he’s just a guy I’ve been seeing from around the way," I said vaguely, avoiding her gaze.

"Just a guy?" Mama’s voice was calm but firm, the kind of tone that demanded the truth. "How old is this guy, Nyeya?"

I hesitated, my hands twisting in my lap. "He’s… he’s 29."

Mama’s eyebrows shot up. "29? Nyeya, that’s a grown man."

"I know," I said quickly. "But he’s… he’s good to me. Jey don’t mean me no harm. Like he not using me like other guys would be, Mama."

Her expression softened slightly, but her eyes remained serious. "Is Jey the one you’ve been spending the night with? You should’ve known it was going to get back to me eventually."

She knew more than I thought. I swallowed hard, realizing there was no point in lying now. "Yes," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn’t believe all my bones was falling out the closet like this.

Mama sighed, leaning back against the couch. "Nyeya, I was your age once. I know how easy it is to get caught up, especially with a man who makes you feel like the world is yours. But you have to be careful. You have to be smart."

"I am," I said, tears stinging my eyes. "Mama, I… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want you to be mad at me."

I hated disappointing my mama. She did so much for us. I knew who Jey was and if she knew the whole story, she’d definitely have good reason to be.

She reached out, pulling me into a hug. "I’m not mad, baby. I just want you to be honest with me. Lies don’t make things easier, they make them harder. And more than that, I want you to be careful. I’ve seen what this life can do. I’ve lived it. Your daddy… he was just like this man you’re seeing. And look where he ended up."

The mention of my father hit me like a punch to the gut. Mama rarely talked about him, but when she did, it was always a reminder of the risks that came with the life he chose. Slim had been the love of her life until a drug sting when I was two snatched him away. She had moved on, but the scars of that time still lingered.

"I know," I whispered, my voice shaky. "I promise I’ll be careful. And if it gets to be too much… I’ll leave."

Mama pulled back, her hands resting on my shoulders. "I just want you to be happy, Nyeya. Don’t let no man dim your light. Don’t give him that type of power. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, and I’m not gonna let anyone take that from you. You shouldn’t either."

I nodded, tears slipping down my cheeks. "I promise, Mama. You taught me to want better, to expect better. I won’t let you down."

She smiled softly, brushing a thumb over my cheek. "Good. Now, when am I gonna meet this Jey? Time for you to stop hiding him."

The question caught me off guard, but I managed a small smile. "Soon," I said. "I’ll talk to him about it."

Mama sighed, her tone softening even more. "Nyeya, I’m serious. If he’s the man you’re giving your time to, I need to know who he is and what he's all about. I don’t want you caught up in something you can’t get out of."

The conversation ended better than expected, but as I went back to my room, a heaviness settled over me. Mama’s words lingered in my mind, a reminder of the fine line I was walking. Jey had made it clear—ain’t no leaving. And deep down, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. But I couldn’t ignore the growing sense that this life, as thrilling as it was, came at a price I wasn’t ready to pay.

August 7th 1998

Friday night rolled around, and the air buzzed with the vibrant energy of summer. The Prada Bois’ car show was in full swing, taking over a sprawling parking lot at the park by the lake. The hum of car engines mixed with music blasting from the speakers that surrounded the DJ, and the scent of grilled meats and fresh panipopo hung in the humid air. Kids shrieked with laughter as they jumped in bounce houses, while groups of men hovered around their tricked-out cars, showing off gleaming paint jobs and customized interiors.

I arrived with Kiyah, Natasha, and Nataya. The twins had borrowed their mother’s car for the night under the guise of them going to some youth night at church, and Kiyah had wasted no time calling shotgun. I had squeezed into the back seat with Nataya, the four of us hyped for the night ahead. I wore my red bandeau top and favorite Tommy Hilfiger overalls, my gold bracelet from Jey gleaming on my wrist like a mark of loyalty—or ownership. A reminder that it always held more weight than it probably should have.

The scene was alive when we stepped out of the car. Bright headlights from parked cars cast long shadows, and the glow of string lights wrapped around tents gave the whole place a festive feel. Kiyah spotted Jacob leaning casually against a shiny black Impala, his Prada Boi chain glinting under the streetlights. She shot me a grin before making a beeline for him. Natasha, always drawn to the music, drifted towards the DJ, her hips already swaying to the beat.

That left me with Nataya, who didn’t even glance back as she marched straight to the food tables.

“Girl, you must be hungry?” I teased, catching up to her.

She shot me a grin over her shoulder. “You already know. Don’t act like you don’t be eating too.”

I laughed, shaking my head. By the time I caught up, Nataya was piling her plate high with barbecue ribs, potato salad, baked beans, and a generous helping of sapasui. Then she grabbed another plate and added grilled chicken, panipopo, and fresh taro.

“Two plates?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as we found a spot at one of the picnic tables. She was really taking advantage of the free food.

Nataya plopped down, balancing the plates with ease. “Baby, yes. Jimmy put me on to the island food. I gotta taste everything,” she said with a wink before digging in.

I sat across from her, my appetite gone as I watched her eat with enthusiasm. My gaze lingered on her oversized shirt and shorts, a far cry from Natasha’s mini dress. Her face seemed fuller; her movements slower. Something felt different.

“Nye, you okay?” Nataya asked, noticing my stare. “Why you not eating? You don’t like it?”

I hesitated, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “You on your period?”

I didn’t mean to say it out loud but the thoughts tumbling in mind had me curious. I needed some answers.

Her fork paused mid-air. “What? Why?”

“You just… seem different,” I said, trying to sound casual. “And you’re eating like you ain’t had food all day.”

Nataya laughed, shaking her head. “Girl, I always eat like this. You know that.”

That much was true, but something about her felt… off. I decided not to push it. If she had something to tell me, she would, eventually. But for her sake, I hope it wasn’t what I thought it was.

After we finished eating, I let the party pull me in. The music was too good to ignore, and I found myself bouncing in the inflatable castle with some of the kids, laughing like I didn’t have a care in the world. When the DJ switched to a 90s R&B mix, Natasha dragged me to the makeshift dance floor. I let the rhythm take over, swaying and spinning, losing myself in the moment.

Then I felt it—a heavy, piercing gaze. My eyes scanned the crowd and landed on Damian. He sat near a lineup of cars, one woman perched on his lap and another leaning into him, her hand grazing his arm. But his eyes were locked on me, dark and unreadable.

A chill ran down my spine. I turned away, focusing on the music and Natasha’s carefree moves. Loyalty, I reminded myself. My loyalty was to Jey. Damian was just… history.

Kiyah joined us not long after, her hand clasped in Jacob’s. She leaned in close, her voice low. “Taya’s not drinking. She wouldn’t take a shot with me. That ain’t like her ass.”

“But she’s eating though,” I replied, glancing over at where Nataya was now chatting with a group of women. My only suspicion deepened.

Kiyah and I exchanged a knowing look. “Her ass bet not be pregnant,” Kiyah muttered. “You know they mama, Ms. Deedria, don’t play like that.”

“It’s looking like she is,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “And if she is… that’s crazy. I thought it would be yo’ ass to have baby first.”

Before Kiyah could respond, the growl of engines turned our attention to the lot’s entrance. Jey and Jimmy had arrived, their cars gleaming under the lights. For once, Jey wasn’t intoxicated. He looked calm, clear-headed, and… grounded as he exited his car. His eyes found mine immediately, and he motioned for me to come over.

I nodded to the others before sliding his way. My heart fluttered as I approached him. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. He kissed me, his lips warm and familiar. “You look good,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling up at him.

We lingered in our own little world for a moment before he led me to a quieter spot. As he ate, he brought up something that made my chest tighten.

“When am I meeting moms?” he asked casually.

I had told him the day before that my mama knew who he was and that we were dating. I didn’t expect him to be so eager to meet her though. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted him to meet her. 

“Soon,” I said. “Probably on my birthday. She always does something special for me.” We would normally celebrate along with my granny, Bernice, and some of my other family.

Jey nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That works. But I’ve been thinking. After your birthday, you should move in with me. Ain’t no point in you staying at your mama’s place no more.”

The words hit me like a brick. “Move in?” I repeated, my voice shaky. “Jey, that’s… that’s a lot. And a bit fast.” Jey was talking crazy.

He frowned, his brows knitting together. “How is it a lot? You already spending nights with me. Got some of yo’ clothes there as well. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is my mama and Michael,” I said. “I can’t just leave them. Michael’s heading to high school. And I be there when Ma work overnight to make sure he good.”

I did other stuff to make my mama life easier. She worked full-time and also did hair on the side. I couldn’t just leave her especially for Jey who I only knew for two months. I loved Jey but that was too much of a commitment too soon.

Jey’s jaw tightened, frustration flickering in his eyes. “Michael’s damn near grown. He can take care of himself. You gotta let him be a man. And I’m sure ya mama will be good.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve been thinking about enrolling in community college this fall,” I said. “And maybe getting a part-time job. Just to have stuff to fill my time with.”

I had plans before I met Jey and I wasn’t trying to change them just because I was his girl now.

Jey’s hand brushed over the bracelet on my wrist, his touch both possessive and tender. “You can go to school, but you don’t need to work. I’ll take care of you, Nye. You know that. I need you with me though. I got us.”

His words should’ve reassured me, but they didn’t. I forced a nod, my mind swirling with doubts. We had been doing good. So, I choose not to argue.

As I glanced around the party, my thoughts wandered. The other Prada Boi wives and girlfriends seemed happy, but were they really? I watched Solo dancing with his girlfriend, Bronson laughing with his wife and kids, and Nataya sitting in Jimmy’s lap as he rubbed her stomach.

Was this truly the life I wanted? The question lingered, heavy and unanswered, as the party carried on around me.

---

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the parking lot as the streetlights flickered to life. The sounds of laughter and music filled the air, and the occasional rev of a car engine reminded everyone of the reason for the gathering. I leaned against a picnic table looking at nothing in particular, trying to shake the uneasy feeling that had been growing in my chest since Jey’s earlier suggestion.

"Nye," Jey’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up to see him standing a few feet away, his hand extended toward me. "Come here. Stop thinking so much. Go have some fun, baby."

I hesitated, then let him pull me into a hug. His arms were warm and firm, but they didn’t ease the tension inside me. I wanted to believe in him, in us, but doubts still lingered. I told myself to let it go, at least for tonight. The party was winding down, and I didn’t want to ruin the moment.

Jey kissed the top of my head before pulling away. He glanced toward the lineup of cars and nodded. "I’ll be over there with Damian. Come find me if you need anything."

I watched him stroll away, his confident stride unmistakable even in the dim light. He stopped by the hood of a sleek black car where Damian was already perched, a bottle of beer in his hand. My stomach twisted as I watched them exchange words. Their conversation looked serious, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Curiosity burned inside me, but I stayed rooted to my spot—until Jey’s eyes caught mine.

“Nye, come here,” he called out, his voice loud enough to rise above the chatter.

My heart raced. I told myself there was no reason to be nervous. Damian wouldn’t say anything. He wouldn’t dare. His ass bet not. That shit happened a long time ago. Forcing a smile, I walked over to them, my sandals clicking softly against the pavement. As I approached, Jey reached out and pulled me into his lap.

“Not you being anti-social, girl,” he teased, wrapping an arm around my waist. His tone was light, but I could feel Damian’s eyes on me.

Damian’s expression was unreadable. He took a slow sip of his beer before speaking. “Nyeya. Good to see you again.”

“You too,” I replied, keeping my tone polite. My guard was up, though, and I could feel the tension bubbling just beneath the surface. Don’t start no shit, won’t be no shit, sir.

Jey didn’t seem to notice. He leaned back against the car, completely at ease as he spoke to Damian about something— a deal, maybe, or plans for the weekend. I wasn’t paying attention. My focus was split between the warmth of Jey’s embrace and the cool detachment in Damian’s eyes. The moment felt like a game of chess, every word and gesture a calculated move.

Then she appeared. The woman from Tama’s pool party—the one who had been in Damian’s lap. She sidled up to him in a barely there dress, her hand resting possessively on his shoulder. Damian’s lips curled into a smirk as he introduced her.

“This is Dulce,” he said casually. “Dulce, this is Nyeya. Jey’s girl.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, forcing a polite smile. Dulce nodded, her attention quickly returning to Damian, who didn’t seem to mind.

Jey’s grip on my waist tightened slightly as if reminding me where I belonged. The conversation shifted to lighter topics as a few other Prada Bois wandered over, including Sami and Tama. They were laughing about something when Jey’s voice cut through the noise.

“By the way,” he said, his tone casual but loud enough for everyone to hear, “Nyeya’s gonna be moving in with me soon. My baby coming home for good.”

The group’s reaction was immediate. Cheers and congratulations erupted around us, with Tama slapping Jey on the back and Sami grinning broadly. “That’s what’s up, man,” one of them said.

I froze. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I forced a smile. Jey hadn’t discussed this with me— not really. He’d brought it up earlier, but I hadn’t agreed to anything. I mean I nodded but that wasn’t agreeance that was a ‘okay, whatever’ type of thing. And now here his ass was announcing it like it was a done deal. I couldn’t believe it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Damian’s reaction. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and the tension in his jaw was impossible to miss. When our eyes met, it felt like the air had been knocked out of me. There was an unspoken conversation happening between us, one that no one else could hear. I looked away quickly, feeling queasy.

Jey tilted his head to look at me. “You good, baby?”

I nodded, plastering the smile back on my face. “Yeah. I’m good.”

The party carried on around us, the laughter and music ringing hollow in my ears. As Jey chatted with the others, I leaned into his chest, letting his presence ground me. But my thoughts were a tangled mess. Damian’s warnings echoed in my mind, and for the first time, I wondered if I was in over my head. Even if I was, Jey wasn’t letting me go.

----

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[heartbreakprincehbk]

Lucky (Kerry Von Erich x Reader)

Words: 2401

Summary: Requested by anon! Reader isn't into Valentine's Day, but Kerry insists on giving her a surprise Valentine's Day date at home. Thanks for the request, hope y'all enjoy!

*images from pinterest

“Any plans for Valentine’s Day tomorrow?” You looked up briefly in mild annoyance and had to remind yourself it wasn’t the grocery store clerk’s fault that they happened to be the third person to ask you that this week.

“No.” You said, giving a stiff smile as you gave them the cash for your items. 

“Yeah, I understand. This time of year is no fun single.” They said, continuing the conversation as they counted out your cash. You debated whether it was worth it to correct them before deciding to keep your mouth shut. “Well, have a great day anyways.” You mumbled something of the same and grabbed your groceries, purposefully looking away from the big Valentine’s display of candies and flowers on your way out of the store.

It wasn’t that you hated love, or even that you were single, it all just seemed kind of pointless. A big over-commercialized competition to make everyone feel bad as though they had to quantify their love with big expensive displays of affection. You simply believed that showing your love in other ways every other day of the year meant more than a big show one day of the year.

Besides, with Valentine’s Day falling on a Saturday, you were more than certain your boyfriend, Kerry Von Erich, was going to be slamming other men into the wrestling mat. You were used to that sort of thing, and it was much worse not having him around on Christmas or Thanksgiving. It was nearly impossible to complain; you knew it bothered him more than you from the pained look in his puppy dog eyes every time he had to leave. You did your best not to make him feel any worse about it. You could handle one Valentine’s Day alone compared to those.

Kerry knew you weren’t a big fan of Valentine’s Day. The very first one you spent together, Kerry had given you a dozen roses, a giant teddy bear, and chocolates, and while you thanked him, you very quickly let him know your preferences. 

“You don’t have to spend all that money on me, it’s not a big deal.” To say he was confused was an understatement.

“Is this a test to make sure I actually still buy you gifts next Valentine’s Day?” Kerry checked. 

“No!” You giggled. “I just don’t think it’s necessary to make a big deal out of one day and waste money.” You hoped he got the message. Really, just being with Kerry was a gift of its own. 

Now, another Valentine’s Day was upon you. So far so good as you woke up with no fanfare. Kerry had already gotten up and was working out in the garage as per usual. When you finally made it downstairs to make some breakfast, Kerry made his appearance. He froze when he saw you.

“Good morning,” you greeted him. He hesitated, looking you over like you were a word puzzle he was trying to figure out. Eventually, he was able to speak. 

“Hey–oh, good morning. So hey, baby, uh…so, my mom and Mike wanted to take you to lunch today.” He explained somewhat awkwardly. You frowned a little.

“But I just saw her for lunch yesterday. She didn’t mention it.” You said. Kerry scratched his head, avoiding your gaze and giving a half-shrug.

“Yeah, uh…well, I think it was last minute. Maybe, uh…Mike’s idea.” You frowned a little. “I gotta shower and go meet Kev. My mom said she would pick you up around 1 pm.” Your frown deepened.

“Okay.” You said, smiling slightly when he pressed a kiss to the side of your head on his way out of the kitchen. 

Doris was right on time with Mike in tow. The three of you went into town to the local deli, where Mike proceeded to take much longer than normal to eat his sandwich. 

“Are you feeling okay?” You asked him. Normally, Mike inhaled his food in three seconds. He looked panicked at your question and took a big bite of his food, prolonging his response.

“I’m fine. Why?” He asked, eyes shifting. You laughed a little. “I’m not acting weird.” From the corner of your eye, you saw Doris shaking her head.

“I didn’t say you were acting weird, but I’m wondering if I need to go complain about your sandwich because normally it would have been gone by now.” You said casually, smiling as Mike’s eyes grew even more panicked.

“No, no! It’s uh, good. Really. I’m just…trying to eat slower. You know, um…avoid choking.” You were biting back a laugh. “Um. Do you have any plans tonight?”

“Mike.” Doris reprimanded. 

“It’s okay.” You said, smiling. “No, I’m just planning on catching up on cleaning and maybe I’ll treat myself to a hot bath and tea or ice cream or something. I know Kerry has his show; if it were closer I would be there.”

“You know, it’s been nice weather the last few days for February. I haven’t had to worry about the plants freezing.” Doris said suddenly with a smile. You nodded, listening pleasantly to her latest tale of trying to keep her vegetable garden alive. 

After lunch you assumed you would all go separate ways, until Mike blurted out. “Uh, Y/N, I was gonna meet Kev at the record store down the street. Do you want to come?” You frowned a little.

“I thought Kerry was meeting Kevin somewhere today?” Mike swallowed.

“Oh, uh…maybe, maybe earlier for a second, but Kev said he was free this afternoon.” 

Your mind was turning. Had Kerry lied to you? You did your best to hide your thoughts as you said goodbye to Doris and walked with Mike to the record store. 

You were positive Mike sifted through every record in that store, but you knew how much music meant to him, so you said nothing and waited patiently, flipping through a stack on your own here and there. You noticed after a while he was hanging on to an Eagles record. 

“Is that a good one?” You asked. Mike shrugged shyly.

“I’ve had my eye on it for a while.” You smiled and took it from his hands.

“My treat. Come on,” his eyes stretched wide. 

“What? Really? But Y/N, you don’t…”

“Tell me if it’s any good.” You insisted as he followed you to the checkout line. “You know, you’ve shown me some great stuff already. I always go to you if I want something new.” You smiled at the way the youngest brother averted his gaze with a bashful chuckle, his cheeks already turning red. Right as you were paying, Kevin walked in the door. 

“Hey you two. Mike, what did you find this time?” Mike excitedly showed his record to Kevin who nodded in approval, before he looked at you. “C’mon, you two. Let’s get you home, Y/N.” He seemed to be in a hurry; that made sense due to the brothers having a wrestling show a town over that night. 

You wanted to ask Kevin about Kerry, but you knew it wasn’t really Kevin’s place or fault if Kerry was lying to you. Was it possible that he had met someone else, was he using the holiday to woo some new girl, maybe a fan he had met? Suddenly, the idea of Kerry waking you up with a dozen roses sent a longing pang through your heart, but you pushed the thought away. You would simply ask Kerry later. 

For now, you focused on the moment you had with Kevin and Mike, laughing in the car together about the last time Ric Flair was in town and the less than welcoming reception he had received, and how Kevin had nearly taken the win and trying not to give into the disappointed feeling creeping up on you.

“See you boys,” you said as Kevin’s truck pulled up in front of your house. “Good luck tonight, Kev. Enjoy that record, Mike!” They both waved and you sighed a little, walking up towards the sure-to-be empty house. The sun was beginning to set ever so slightly, the sky growing more orange and casting shadows over the lawn. Now alone, you allowed yourself to feel crest-fallen. 

You pushed your key reluctantly into the lock, resigning yourself to the evening you had described earlier, only to stop once the door swayed open. In the distance, you could hear faint music playing. You listened for a moment, frowning in confusion. It was a cheesy ballad—Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time.” The lights were off, and you made your way towards the kitchen, where the music was loudest and a hint of warm light was spilling into the hallway.

“Kerry?” You called, gasping at what you saw. Kerry was standing waiting next to the dining table, fighting a big smile, his chin raised and hands behind his back. He was wearing jeans and an apron designed to look like a tuxedo with nothing underneath. The table was covered in a white table cloth and at the center was a big vase of cascading roses, along with more scattered rose petals and two dinner plates. Candles were everywhere, from the table to the kitchen counters, and even a few tea lights on the ground.

“Kerry! What is all of this?” You demanded, frozen on the spot, laughing at his apron. An overwhelming sense of happiness, love, and surprise filled you as you looked from him to the area surrounding you.

“I cooked dinner.” He explained, as if he were discussing the weather, laughing finally as you laughed.

“But why? Kerry, you should be halfway to Tyler right now for the show!” His grin widened.

“Yeah, I know. But Kev’s covering for me; he’s gonna wrestle the tag match and take my spot in the main event too.” 

“What! Why?” You repeated. Kerry laughed again as if you were missing the point and walked closer, wrapping his large arm over the top of your shoulders to pull you closer and kiss the top of your head. 

“You sure do ask a lot of questions.” He noted into your hair, making you chuckle. “Because you’re important and I love you.” He grabbed your hand and led you to the table, pulling out your chair for you to sit before sitting across from you.

“Kerry…” you breathed, looking down at the plate. It was a very impressive looking chicken Parmesan on a bed of pasta. “This looks amazing.” He smiled.

“Thank you. Just don’t look at the sink.” You giggled, imagining a mountain of dishes and utensils. “I’ve been practicing with mom the last two weeks. I think it turned out perfect this time—the first time the chicken was too tough. Anyway, I think I’ve nailed it now.” You were blown away by the effort; Kerry could cook simple and remedial dishes, but an entire entree was surprising. “Try it and tell me what you think.”

He seemed to be waiting to take a bite of his own food until you took yours. You stared at his anxious face as you took the first bite.

“Kerry, this is so good. Wow. You’re definitely gonna have to make this again.” He was back to glowing from your praise. “But, I mean, I still don’t understand why.” His smile softened.

“I know you always said you don’t want a big deal made out of Valentine’s Day and not to fuss over you, but…I can’t help it. I love you, Y/N. I want to do these things. You always said you don’t want me to buy anything, or go out anywhere, so I decided the best way to show you how much I love you is to treat you at home.” 

“And your mother and Mike? Were they in on it too?” Kerry laughed.

“I asked them to hold you up for as long as they could to give me time to decorate and cook.” Suddenly, everything made sense–Mike taking his time eating, dragging you through every corner of the record store, Doris trying to keep your mind off of Valentine’s Day, even Kevin. Suddenly you wondered how you missed all the signs. 

“And you didn’t actually go to meet Kevin.” He looked almost sheepish.

“No…I went to buy the flowers and everything else I needed. But I couldn’t tell you that.” You laughed, shaking your head at how silly your prior worries suddenly seemed. 

“I’m a little embarrassed, but…I was afraid you lied about meeting Kevin because you were meeting someone else and spending the day with them.” You admitted. Rather than getting angry or defensive or even offended, Kerry only looked confused. 

“What? I’d never do that to you, baby. I just wanted to surprise you. I’ve been trying to plan this out for weeks now, I think since Christmas.” A feeling of utter peace and contentment filled you. How lucky were you?

“Oh, Kerry…this is perfect. This is everything I could have wanted. Thank you.” You smiled, and he reached across the table to grab your hand with his much larger one. 

“No, thank you. I just wanted to make sure you were treated right on Valentine’s Day. Because I’m here, and as long as I’m here, you will be.” 

“And every other day?” You teased, laughing. Kerry grinned broadly, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles. 

“Especially every other day.” He promised. “Boy, cooking really gets you hungry.” He said as he picked up his fork again, making you laugh. “I rented a movie too for after, and maybe we can make some ice cream floats. Oh! I’ve been meaning to tell you, the funniest thing happened the other day. The last time Ric Flair came to town, he had a rough time. There was a kid chewing gum in the front row, and he didn’t like Flair, so he took the gum…” 

You listened enthusiastically to Kerry telling the story, despite the fact you had already heard the tale from Kevin. Instead, you settled into your chair and picked up your fork, focusing on the sparkle in Kerry’s eyes, the way the glow of the candles warmed his handsome features as the flames danced, the way his perfectly tousled curls framed his face. Your cozy little kitchen felt warmer than ever and so full of love that it radiated from every nook and cranny. Really, how lucky could you be?

[cassafra5]

I took a commission recently and just wanted to vent a little for a sec.

-Rant ahead-

First off, I’d like to say that I really appreciate and am flattered when people reach out and want to commission me! That’s money that could be spent on more immediate things like food or material items so having someone want a personal piece from me does mean a lot to me - I recently started being active again and although I don’t take commissions very often, I will on occasion and its 90% normally a nice exchange where I can work on something that someone is happy with and I can get some pocket money too.

I haven’t made an updated commission sheet since 2017 because I wanted to do it once I felt like I had decent enough time to open up commission slots and to figure out decent pricing. Because of this, when people would reach out to me, I felt bad about charging more than what I had in my original commission menu (which tbh was low to the point where at some points the time spent =/= the price of the commission) so I took a lot of them at my old rates. Also, I really wanted to work on getting my art to a caliber where I’d be happy with it since I want to do my best especially when someone’s paying me. Commissions take priority over my own projects also since I don’t want to push stuff down with my own projects when I was literally paid to do something. My boyfriend and friends have been encouraging me to update my prices to make it more fair to me so I’ve been trying to do so while still considering making it manageable for whoever does get my commissions.

Recently, I started being active on Bluesky and someone reached out to me claiming to be a “big fan” from way back when on Tumblr (circa 2016) so I was pretty happy to reminisce and talk about old fallout accounts we missed and even drew two quick sketches for fun for them. They started talking about wanting some art from me but I started to get a weird vibe from some of the messages. Commissions can be pricey so I tried to be understanding so when they eventually asked for a comic commission, I tried giving a pretty affordable price for a very simple comic page ($40) since it was mainly 1 main picture with just two small panels toned since they kept splitting hairs. Apparently being more than petrol would have been criminal. I got other comments and voice mails from this person that made me a bit uncomfortable but I shrugged it off that maybe they had just gone through a bit and ultimately meant well.

After more convo, it seemed they weren’t actually very familiar with my work. All good though it wasn’t necessary to say it if they weren’t? I got to work, looked at the references and managed to get this done in twoish days. I had some time during Christmas Eve so got a bit done then and since they emphasized wanting to get “the most for their money” I was also requested to give them the main pic, pic without dialogue and the panels separately so I did. There was no extra charge for that. I sent it to them and they were happy and started asking about another commission and that’s when I got upset.

It’s perfectly fine to say you aren’t in a position to commission at this time. It is absolutely understandable - all of us are trying to get by right now and commissions and art are luxuries and not something I expect someone to follow through with if they can’t do it…but to literally talk down to me when I’ve already tried to keep my prices manageable is very shitty. It doesn’t matter how many fucking hearts you put there either lol. There are people I’ve given freebies and discounts because I figure if we can make something work, I can maybe shave a little off. It’s incredibly disheartening when I try to be nice to people who say they’re so sad their oc isn’t drawn/oh no arts so expensive these days and then get met with this sort of attitude.

The Fallout Community is very warm and inviting and I’ve met so many great people through it but I’ve also had my fair share of shitty experiences too and to have someone really question the worth of your work over $30/$40$ is pretty awful. Just nicely say you can’t afford it at this time and go on your way - no sob stories or voicemails or haggling or pointing fingers over price. The entitlement is insane.

[krizariel]

Inspired on an episode from HIMYM - because is my background noise show:

Tim hooking up with Jason thinking he is a hooker because whoever introduced them (probably OG Bernard) was playing a prank on Tim for being a prude/too puritan and is not like Tim had much time to find a date for the wedding he had to go to. He is still friends with his ex but it hasn't been that long since the break-up and its awkward and now they have to go to the same wedding since they are within the same group of friends.

Bernard: You should totally bring a date

Tim: what? who am I gonna bring? I'm too busy as it is and I'm not going to bring a random guy from grindr

Bernard: Eh, just bring an escort

Tim: I'm not THAT desperate.

Bernard: Pfft, what's the big deal, no strings attached, get to show everyone you are doing just fine, no one has to know, you leave with your dignity AND a good time

Tim: You cannot be serious.

Bernard: Oh I'm so serious. What, Tim Drake can't hook up with a hooker now?

Tim: Just no, and seriously shut up. I'll see if I can find someone and I have nothing to prove I don't care to make Steph jealous. Plus I'm sure she won't bring a date.

Wedding comes, Tim shows up and Bernard is with his date and another very handsome man.

Tim pulls Bernard to the side because what?!

Tim: Who is that?

Bernard: Oh, you know, found you a date *wink*, thank me later.

Tim: With a hooker!?

Bernard: What, too handsome to be a hooker uh? No one would ever suspect anything

Tim: That's beside the point! I had said no-

Bernard: Geez, give it a try no one said to sleep or do anything with him? He is just a companion tonight, whatever else happens is up to you

Tim: I know that! But-

Steph: You guys ok there?

Steph and her date had joined Jason and Ariana (Bernard's date) and they had come looking for Bernard and Tim.

Jason: Hey, you are way cuter than described.

And he winked at Tim. He was way too handsome, towering the whole group.

Tim at first is kind of forced to go along but it would be awkward to reject Jason since he was already there, and it was not his fault plus damn he looked stunning. They hit it off just fine, in fact it was great, Jay was a total nerd, they spent most of the night talking, drinking and flirting, and Tim started to feel all giddy and more emboldened to just flirt back. Is not like he will see him again right?

The event was at a hotel and they were going to leave their own ways. At first Tim was reluctant because well, he has never done this before and maybe this is going to be really expensive but… what the hell, he hasn't been with anyone for some time and he really finds he likes Jason even if he is a hooker and might not actually like Tim. So he invited Jason to his room to which Jason just said: Was starting to think you were not going to ask. That would have been no fun.

They hook up, sex is amazing, 100/10 would do it again … , and Tim leaves a few $100 bills by the table and just leaves a note with his number saying call me. Tim thinks well… at least maybe this way he knows Tim is still interested to see him again. Tim feels crazy because what has his life come to… and no, is not like this will be a Pretty Woman kind of plot, Jason probably has other people to see and WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM!? He will totally not tell anyone about this and certainly won't tell Bernard how did it go.

Well, Jason never calls him, Tim doesn't have his number, so he can't call him. Not long afterwards Tim has an accident on his bike, the paramedics come get him and Tim sees Jason there. At first Tim thinks maybe he is hallucinating because he totally has a concussion but-

Tim: Jason? what are you doing here?!

Jason: My job?? Didn't Bernard tell you I was a paramedic?

Tim: WHAT? AREN'T YOU A HOOKER!?!?

Jason: What.

Jason has half the mind to not punch Tim because he is having flashbacks of having such an amazing time with this rich kid that seemed nothing like the rest but then he wakes up alone and with money by the bed table. So insulting.

Jason: I'm a fucking PARAMEDIC… now shut the fuck up before I fucking make your injuries worse and lose my license.

Anyway, they clear things up (and Tim cant look at any of the nurses in the eye because they start giggling). Bernard, Ariana and Jason work at the same hospital and Ariana and Jason are good friends. Bernard invited Jason with them, telling him he had a good friend of his who is really cute but pretty lonely and can't find a date since he barely has any time to get himself out there. Jason shot him down at first with thanks but no thanks, but Ariana (Bernard's gf) told him Tim is actually really nice. Since Jason didn't have any plans he ended up accepting.

Jason: So you slept with me…thinking I was a hooker?!

Tim: …. Listen I wasn't going to do any of it, I swear but you were so funny, witty, smart, loved talking to you and in just a few hours I found I really was starting to like you, you were amazing… and didn't matter what you did for a living. I genuinely wanted to see you again and now I'm babbling and not making any sense I'm sorry-

Jason: The fuck is wrong with ya?… after another string of curses

Tim: I- … I'm sorry, I know this is a mess and I understand if you don't want to see me again-

Jason: No, I was talking to myself because for whatever reason I find ya oddly sweet.

Jason: But first, I'm going to do something for myself and slash Bernard's bike tires :)

Tim: Oh, can I join you?

Jason: Sure. It's a date Timbit ;)

[blorbocedes]

very sorry. I am your $400 a person dinner party anon and in hindsight I do see where that ask kinda didn't come across the right way. apologies on that. I'm a waitress and wine professional and I do make pretty decent money but it isn't crazy. Idk. Fine dining is my hobby like gaming or cosplay and cons or f1 tickets are for some people. so yeah. I spend what many people would consider dumb money on food. it's what I'm passionate about. Mostly I guess I don't really understand why people are getting so pressed about 5k on dinner for 20 (ive have served dinner parties for far more for far fewer people) when every single one of those guys shows up in 5k outfits every day. this time the is discourse was on my pet topic and I went into your inbox to complain which was a dick move. rip my internet etiquette.

hi anon. I appreciate the self reflection. let me try to explain where I was coming from. so I saw a reel of valtteri saying the dinner cost €5000 and the number struck to me cause that's my entire personal savings and they had it for dinner. which is why i made the post of being from different planets.

you ask why ppl got pressed over the dinner when they routinely wear designer outfits that's more expensive - true! they do. I don't think I can physically comprehend charles wearing that 2 million dollar watch he has. but we're all accustomed to designer clothes costing an insane amount and an outfit has more utility - you can wear it multiple times. a dinner is a One Time Meal, and maybe some of us will never own designer but we all have had dinner. which makes it an easier reference point to compare.

so when you said in my inbox you spend $500 at expensive resturant for dinner, you're essentially telling me you spend 10% of my life savings on dinner. it came across as humble bragging.

I get that the service industry in america is not respected and you wouldn't consider yourself rich and maybe by your standards you're not but if you read through the notes of my post, of people talking about how that dinner costs more than their tuition or year's rent or salary it's just the incredible wealth gulf between the first world and second/third. and then there's the ultra rich (atheletes). ppl who buy f1 tickets or can spend a bunch at cons or fine dining are actually not the rest of the world

and although it probably is the standard amount for fine dining for the first world wealthy and you wanted to inform us of that, your comment came across as a little tone deaf. we all know f1 drivers are rich, this isn't new info, it's seeing your car payment or years rent being spent on a single dinner that contextualises just how rich they are.

I hope you understand this is nothing personal, I don't Know you beyond the 2 messages you sent. pls don't feel the need to apologize again, we've all made gaffes on the internet. I appreciate your self reflection and I hope this explains my side of it

PS. do still donate to the Gaza soup kitchen if you can. it's genuinely a good cause and feeds so many, and US dollar goes so far

[princesssarisa]

Character ask: John Brooke (if you're feeling up to do so)

Favorite thing about them: His steady kindness, gentleness, and dependability, and his devotion to Meg, their children, and his friends. Even as he takes on the role of disciplinarian with his children, he combines it with sweet tenderness, and he always wants Meg to be happy, even at his own expense. To say nothing of the way he helps the March parents and write comforting letters home to the girls during Mr. March's illness in Part I. He's an excellent man in general, with very little to dislike about him.

Least favorite thing about them: Probably his behavior in the jelly incident: laughing and joking about it when Meg is distraught (even if it is funny), and saying in annoyance that he'll never bring an unexpected guest home again. Unlike other readers, I don't dislike him for it, but it does show that he's human and not perfect.

Also, the fact that he eventually dies young in Little Men. So sad.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I'm intelligent and well-educated, as he must be to work as a tutor and a bookkeeper.

*I'm a kind, loving person, or at least I try to be.

*I like a simple, cozy life.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I'm female.

*I'm not married and don't have children.

*I don't enjoy talking about politics.

Favorite line:

From "Domestic Experiences," when he learns that Meg spent fifty dollars on silk for a dress – even though he's not happy, he makes no complaint, but tries to be cheerful about it for Meg's sake:

“Twenty-five yards of silk seems a good deal to cover one small woman, but I’ve no doubt my wife will look as fine as Ned Moffat’s when she gets it on."

From later in the same the same chapter, when he cancels his order for a new overcoat:

“I can’t afford it, my dear.”

Again, no complaint. No mention of the fact that it's because of Meg's silk purchase that he can't afford it. He just quietly gives up something he needs so Meg can have what she wants – which rightly moves her to repay him by giving up the dress so he can have his coat after all.

brOTP: The March, Laurence, and Bhaer families, and his own children.

OTP: Meg.

nOTP: His daughters Daisy and Josie.

Random headcanon: Having Laurie as a student helped to prepare him for parenthood, even though Laurie is only about six or seven years younger than himself. Handling 1-year-old Demi's tantrums would have been much more daunting if he hadn't already dealt with such a high-spirited handful of a teenage boy.

Unpopular opinion: I couldn't decide between these two common pieces of slander against him, so I'll cite both. Get ready for some long ramblings from the John Brooke Defense Squad.

He doesn't have anger issues. When Marmee advises Meg never to make him angry (which is problematic advice by modern standards, I'll admit), her message isn't "He's an unforgiving grudge-holder, so you'd better placate him," and it certainly isn't "You should be afraid of him." Her point is just that his anger is different from the temper that Meg (to an extent), Amy, and especially Jo have all inherited from Marmee: their anger is more fiery, but it dies just as quickly as it flairs up, while John's anger is quiet and repressed, but for that very reason it lasts longer. Later, when Meg feels "afraid of her husband" when she's about to reveal her extravagant silk purchase, she's not literally afraid of him – she's afraid of disappointing him. Nor does he "sulk" (to quote one essay I just read) after Meg says she's tired of being poor – he's hurt, but he tries not to show it, and just takes on more hours of work and cuts more corners to have more money. And in "On the Shelf," when Meg worries that he'll be "too harsh" with the naughty Demi, and when she feels anxious about leaving him alone with the twins, she's certainly not afraid he'll abuse them! She's just a soft-hearted new mother who can't bear to see her little boy unhappy – even briefly and for his own good – and who has never let anyone but herself take care of the twins and worries that John might accidentally hurt them. The essays and comments I've read about John's "bad temper" and Meg's "fear of him" seem to lack basic reading comprehension!

I don't think his behavior in "On the Shelf" is nearly as detestable as many readers do. In fact I don't think it's detestable at all. He's not jealous of Meg's attention to the twins – he adores his babies and begrudges them nothing. He just feels understandably ignored and lonely because Meg does devote nearly every waking minute to the babies and is afraid to let him or anyone else help her with them. Yet he doesn't complain or fault her for it at all, he just starts spending his evenings at a friend's house, with no idea that Meg minds his absence. For all he knows, she's glad to have him out of the way so she can focus even more on the twins, which she is at first: only later does she start to miss him, and even then, she never tells him how she feels. It's only her own stress that convinces her that he's being selfish, neglecting her, having fun while she slaves away, etc., and I don't understand why so many readers seem to take her perspective at face value and hate John for it. Honestly, I could write a whole volume about how and why that chapter is a healthy, progressive, feminist portrayal of a couple learning to co-parent and strengthening their marriage, yet too often is mistakenly viewed as problematic, oppressive, and anti-feminist instead.

Song I associate with them:

"More Than I Am" from the 2005 musical.

Favorite picture of them:

This illustration by Frank T. Merrill:

John Lodge in the 1933 film, with Frances Dee as Meg.

Richard Stapley in the 1949 film, with Janet Leigh as Meg.

Eric Stoltz in the 1994 film:

...with Trini Alvarado as Meg.

Julian Morris in the 2017 miniseries, with Willa Fitzgerald as Meg:

James Norton in the 2019 film, with Emma Watson as Meg:

[desdemonafictional]

The Woman Called...

Fujiko Mine was born into a family that did not consider itself poor, on account of they could afford to eat meat every week or so, unlike some families they knew who couldn’t afford it at all. Those were poor families, her mother would have said, not us.

Of course, they had been poor. They had been dirt poor. They had been secondhand shoes bought three sizes too big so you can grow into them, get slapped for breaking a dish at dinner, too-proud-to-beg poor. Whatever warm family feelings they might have had for each other were strained to the point of fraying by the time Fujiko entered middle school.

At age 12, Fujiko had looked around herself at the world—at the shining elegant faces in advertisements, at the delicate patisseries where it would have cost as much for one cake as her mother spent on dinner for all four of them, at the sneering faces of girls who had more than she ever had just for the stupid fortune of being born to a better class of family—and Fujiko Mine had come to a conclusion. Her conclusion was thus: the world was demonstrably not fair. And if the world was not fair, then what was the point in playing fair while the other side went on cheating?

Dumb luck might have given other girls family connections, money, and an easy life, but Fujiko had something most of them didn’t.

Fujiko was beautiful.

At age 14, she measured her bust religiously, noting the centimeters of growth and calculating her seams. She searched her face for imperfections and rationed out dollops of pale foundation as if the cream was gold. She walked tall, wore her hair short, and stood on tip-toe when she couldn’t wedge rags into her shoes. Men had already started to notice her years ago, but the extra help never went astray.

One day, on her way to school, there had been a man waiting for her a few blocks away. He explained that if she would come to dinner with him, he would buy her a beautiful new jacket for the winter, so she wouldn’t have to wear that old ratty one with the patches. Of course, she said yes.

He was a very nice man, as far as such men went. He took her shopping. He told her she was beautiful.

“You probably expect a story like that to end in tragedy,” Fujiko said, examining her cigarette with vague contempt. “Poor dumb little girl in the spider’s parlor. What was he hiding, what did he do, how did he hurt her? Well it was fine. Nothing happened. After a few weeks he went back to his sad little housewife in Kanto and lived a normal life, probably never thought about Fujiko Mine again. But I had the jacket.”  

There’s an impermeable barrier that separates the poor from the rich, and it’s all quantified in clothes. The better you dress, the more people believe you belong. A ragged slob off the street would be turned out of a high-end store before she even knew what was happening, for fear that she’d pocket something nice with her greedy nasty little hands. But the same girl, dressed in a nice coat that obviously cost a salaryman quite a lot of money? Oh, why would she steal? She’s obviously doing just fine. So come in, come in, if you have money to spend.

“I worked my way up,” she said, and took a drag. Her elegant red nails alighted only delicately on anything she touched. “Shirts first, then dresses. Just slightly above my class. Once you have slightly nicer down, you can shift another class up. But people notice if your shoes are wrong, it’s one of the first things to give you away when you don’t belong. Shoes are expensive. They’re hard to fit in your sleeve. So I worked at the hostess club for months to afford a pair of new leather shoes.”

At the hostess club, she met a lot of new types of men. She was too young to work at an above-board club, so she worked at a shadier one instead, the kind where touching was alright. At least up to a point. Some of the girls would call security on a handsy drunk, but Fujiko didn’t want their help—she’d deal with it herself, on her own terms. Anyway, a man who was busy grabbing a breast was probably not paying attention to his wallet. And he probably wouldn’t remember how much he spent, either.

She bought the shoes. She thought about quitting. And then she stayed anyway.

“I was good at getting men to buy drinks,” she said, “and I had a system for swapping out empty glasses with half drunk glasses. I used to hide them in the corner of the cushions. Or under my skirt. I was very good at getting other people to drink.”

She ashed her cigarette with a careless flick, her nails like quick shining beetles taking off.

“But it turned out one of those men I’d been getting to drink was a Yakuza mid-boss, the ambitious type, you know? And so one day this asshole pulls me aside as I’m leaving work—”

Sunglasses at night, that’s mostly what she remembered. Long jacket, with the sleeves pushed up to show the edges of tattoos. He’d smiled like a tiger on a diet, ever so polite, banked hunger and a rough rolling accent.

“I took the job, of course,” Fujiko said. “It wasn’t like I was attached to the guy, or anything. I let him take me home after a shift a few nights later, and when I had him alone and naked, I opened the front door for his rival. The trouble is,” and here, she contemplated the glowing cherry between her fingers, “once you’ve taken blood money, you can never really go back. You know how it is. There were always more men in sunglasses, always more jobs, always more money, and always more things to hide.”

She finished off the cigarette with a long, contemplative drag.

“One day you look up, and you realize that little by little, without noticing it, you’ve become someone who can’t go home.”

The silk of her dressing gown fluttered translucent and pink against her thigh as she stood. The wide high window glowed verdant with morning light over the garden that several men worked quietly and invisibly each week to maintain. She stood in front of the glass, staring out, still except for the restless flicking of her fingers at her side. Her shoulders tensed, like a cat watching a bird just out of reach.

Then, of course, there had been Poon. He hadn’t called her beautiful. He’d called her clever. Deadly. He’d admired that she was ruthless. He’d opened his hand, his portfolio, his heart, and offered her the chance to be more than set dressing. To take partnership in the business where for so long she’d been only pawn. Teacher, lover, friend—escape, ensnarement, she had wanted to be him, and yet she had wanted to be more than him. Everything she had was his, and the worst part was that he held nothing back. He gave and gave, and the more he gave the less she had.

They’d been unstoppable. They’d been a cataclysm. They’d been the golden pair. And when he died, he’d gutted her of everything he’d been.

“I liked killing less than the hostess work,” she remarked to the window. “But the hours were better.”

And then she turned, and smiled a wicked, insouciant smile.

“Of course, those days are long behind me,” she purred. “I’m a good girl now.” She dripped like water across the lounge, graceful legs and trailing silk, to climb into the lap of the man who meant to hire her.

 “Silly me, how I’m going on. I’m afraid I’ve quite lost my head around you, Mister…?”

“Lupin,” the man said, and his eyes reluctantly tore up from the place where her thigh was pressed to his side. “The Third.”

“How distinguished,” she said. She drew her fingers up along the length of his neck, grazing his ear. His pupils dilated. It didn’t matter what she’d said, really; he wasn’t listening. Men like him never did.

Easy money, she thought. I’ll have him chewed up in a week.

“So what was it you wanted done, exactly?” she asked.