#i will never. never understand why they cut it

[dirtyvulture]

The Maid - Part 2

Socialite!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

Maid!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4705

Summary: You are married to a wealthy socialite, but your newly hired housemaid doesn’t approve of the marriage.

AN: Thank you so much for the response to part 1! And thank you to everyone who was so patient and understanding for this part taking a while to write. I hope you all like it.

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Wanda seems to be in a better mood lately, Natasha notices, probably because the two of you rekindled whatever complicated romance you had going on. And as sad and lonely as it had made Natasha feel, at least Wanda was being less rude to her, and that would always be a win in her book.

The grocery trips and errands she sends Natasha on are less demanding, although Natasha’s unsure if she’s becoming more comfortable or Wanda’s gotten less picky. Wanda still requests Natasha’s help for her weekly meetings, and Natasha cannot understand why someone who is unemployed goes so out of her way to find the most mundane, meaningless things to participate in. But it keeps Natasha paid and busy, and she still gets to see you a few times a week.

“What are you doing this weekend, Natasha?” Wanda asks while the two of them are in the kitchen. Wanda is on her laptop while Natasha stands at the counter, cutting vegetables for dinner.

“Um…” Natasha knows better than to tell Wanda the truth, which is that she’ll be sitting alone in her apartment for the next two days and eating ice cream on her couch. “Some friends invited me to go shopping with them at the mall,” she lies. She doesn’t have friends and she certainly doesn’t have the budget to shop at a mall after all the debt she still owes.

“I’ll be gone all weekend with some girlfriends,” Wanda says, not even acknowledging Natasha’s plans, which makes her wonder why she had even bothered to ask in the first place. “I’m not into wine tasting much, but the girls go nuts for it. I’m just going for the spa at the resort, between you and me.”

Natasha has no idea what to do with this information. But she’s spared from answering when the garage door rumbles open.

Wanda slams her laptop shut. “Oh, Y/N is home early.” She gets up to greet you. Natasha can hear your voices carry through the hall.

“You’re early tonight,” Wanda says. “I was just telling Natasha about my weekend plans to Vermont with the girls–”

“Your weekend plans?” you interrupt. “Since when did you have plans to go to Vermont?” Natasha has never heard you sound genuinely angry before. She stops cutting the carrots to focus on eavesdropping.

“Carol wanted to go for her birthday!” your wife says.

“Wanda,” you say, your voice lowering. “Our anniversary is this weekend. I booked us a stay at the Ritz and got us tickets to see Wicked–”

“Well, just ask for a refund!” Wanda hisses. Natasha is stunned that this is her first response to forgetting about her entire anniversary with you. “And we can celebrate when I get back–”

“��Get back?’” you repeat. “That’s not the point, Wanda. Why don’t you ask for a refund for your trip–”

“I can’t do that to the girls,” Wanda says. “Carol’s been looking forward to this for months!”

You mumble something that Natasha can’t hear. She feels awful for you. Clearly, you had spent a lot of money and time planning a nice outing, and your wife didn’t seem to care one bit. In fact, she tried to put the blame on you for intruding on her plans. Natasha felt herself shaking with rage for you. You deserved so much better.

The two of you trudge into the kitchen and Natasha hastily goes back to cutting the carrots. Wanda is hanging onto your arm, tiptoeing to whisper into your ear but you shake her off and walk through the kitchen to the staircase. Natasha knows that Wanda is glaring at the back of her head, probably upset that she had overheard, but for once she doesn’t say anything and disappears after you.

The mood is particularly subdued when Natasha serves up roasted salmon with a colorful vegetable medley and mashed potatoes. 

“Thank you, Natasha,” you say as she hands you a loaded plate. 

Wanda doesn’t say anything when Natasha gives her a plate.

While the two of you eat in awkward silence, Natasha cleans up the kitchen, her final task of the day. She grabs her purse and heads towards the door, when she hears footsteps behind her.

It’s you.

“Can I walk you out to your car?” you ask. “I know it’s a safe neighborhood, but I don’t want you walking out in the dark by yourself.”

Natasha is so flattered by your offer she doesn’t stop to consider how Wanda might feel about this.

“Sure, I really appreciate that. Thank you.” She leads the way out of your house.

“Sorry you always have to park around the corner,” you add, maintaining a respectful distance from her on the sidewalk. “I’ve told Wanda the whole neighborhood knows you work for us. But she’s…” you trail off, clearly not wanting to speak ill of your wife.

“I’m sorry she forgot your anniversary,” Natasha blurts out. 

You seem startled that Natasha had been eavesdropping, but quickly recover. “Well, it’s…it’s not the first time she’s done it,” you admit in a soft voice. “I don’t know why I bother trying to do anything special anymore. It’s just another day to her. And it seems like she’d rather spend it with anyone but me.”

“She’s missing out,” Natasha says, surprised by her own confidence. “You’re a wonderful person and you deserve someone who will appreciate the efforts you go to celebrate important milestones like that.” She stops before she can offer herself up.

“Oh. Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.” 

The two of you stop at Natasha’s beat-up Nissan. 

“Thanks for walking me to my car–” she starts.

“Are you busy this weekend?” you ask suddenly, in a rushed whisper as if Wanda is around the corner listening. “If you’re not, would you like to see Wicked with me at the Gershwin Theater? I told Wanda I could probably get a credit with the Ritz, but I don’t want to deal with the hassle of exchanging the tickets, too. You can come over Saturday night and I’ll drive us?”

Natasha is so shocked by your proposal she doesn’t even have the words to agree at first. Growing up, she had loved watching musical movies until the VHS tapes wore out, but she had never had the opportunity to see a live performance. Even now as an adult, she still didn’t have the time nor the budget to see a show. To hear you ask that you wanted her to join you, when you had bought the tickets for you and your wife to enjoy on your anniversary she had forgotten, sounded almost too good to be true.

But if Wanda found out you had taken Natasha instead of her…Natasha shuddered at the thought. Maybe this was stepping over the line of professionalism. Natasha wanted to keep her job (and her head), and as much as the opportunity was a dream come true for her, she didn’t want to take advantage of your kindness or weakness.

“Um, I’m supposed to go shopping at the mall with some friends on Saturday,” Natasha says, cringing at the patheticness of her life. “But really–thank you for inviting me. I’m sure you have friends you’d rather take over your maid.”

“I don’t have any friends,” you say, so deadpan that Natasha almost laughs but quickly turns it into a cough when she realizes you’re being serious. While you seemed more reserved than your wife, Natasha refused to believe you didn’t have a strong social network. You were in charge of your own company and clearly doing well if you lived in this neighborhood and could afford a personal housemaid like her.

“Good evening!” The two of you startle when a cheery voice comes out of nowhere.

“Hello, Mr. Vision,” Natasha says, spotting the eccentric man first as he walks by at a rapid pace.

“Late night walk, Vis?” you call out, and he nods with a wave, pumping his arms faster and milling away. The only thing Natasha knew about Vision was that he lived by himself at the end of the street. He had no wife or kids that she knew of, not even a job as he was constantly seen walking around the neighborhood at odd hours. But he never approached Natasha or made her feel uncomfortable, which was more than she could say for most of the people living here, so she was happy to ignore him.

When Vision moves out of sight, you say, “Well, if your plans happen to change…” You fumble in your pockets awkwardly, pulling out a bent business card and handing it to Natasha. “My cell number is on there. Text me before Saturday if you’re still interested.”  

“Okay.” Natasha doesn’t want to get your hopes (or hers) up, but she still isn’t convinced this is a good idea. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Natasha.”

She loves the way her name sounds coming out of your mouth.

***********************************************************************

Natasha is still unsure she made the right decision to turn down your offer to see Wicked. She even called her only friend, Clint, to ask if she should’ve said yes.

“Well, you’re just seeing a show together. Think of it like a work bonus or something. Bosses give their employees nice stuff like that all the time,” Clint says as Natasha picks at a box of takeout in front of the television. Cooking at home was not her favorite chore after doing it all day for her clients.

“Yes, but it’s just the two of us,” Natasha stresses. “Y/N got the tickets to celebrate an anniversary and Wanda already hates me as it is–”

“Nah, she doesn’t hate you,” Clint says.

“You haven’t met her! You don’t see the way she treats me.”

“Exactly. Maybe this is Y/N’s way of apologizing for her behavior,” Clint says.

“I don’t know…” It was already Friday night. Natasha didn’t have much time now to change her mind if she was going to.

“Be nice to yourself, Nat. Let someone do something for you,” Clint goes on. “You work so hard for these people all the time. And I know how much you’ve always wanted to see a live performance.” Natasha feels tears well up in her eyes. She wishes Clint was here in person so she could give him a hug. “Nothing bad will happen. Just tell Y/N you want to go before someone else takes your spot.”

Natasha takes a steely breath. Clint is right. It wasn’t a date. It just was her nice boss treating her out to a Broadway show. Never mind the fact that you had intended to take your wife initially. Wanda would never have to know, right?

“Okay. Thanks, Clint.”

“Enjoy!”

As soon as she hangs up, Natasha goes into her texts. She already created a contact for you the night you gave her your business card. Her anxiety is through the roof as she types out a message to you, then deletes it and starts over. She gets more and more frustrated trying to find the right words, before she finally throws in the towel and clicks “Send.”

Less than a minute later, you respond.

Happiness explodes inside of Natasha. She can hardly believe her luck. Not only does she get to see her first Broadway show, but she gets to see it with you, and have dinner on top of it. She darts over to her closet, looking for the nicest dress she owns.

Wanda be damned. Natasha was going to have a great night with you. 

***********************************************************************

“Table for two, please.”

“Did you have a reservation?” the blonde woman at the podium asks.

“No,” you respond.

“Oh, well, I’m so sorry, but we’re all booked out for the evening,” she apologizes. 

Natasha stands behind you meekly. She can’t even pronounce the name of the restaurant and doesn’t know what kind of food they serve, but it’s probably far beyond anything she could ever afford. She’s wearing a dark green dress that almost reaches her ankles and is conservative in protecting her assets, and spent over an hour doing her makeup, and she wonders if strangers will look at the two of you and assume you’re a couple. She wouldn’t go out of her way to correct them.   

“That’s okay. This was a last-minute plan for us,” you explain. “If Tony is working tonight, can you please tell him Y/N stopped by to say hello?”

“Wait, you know Mr. Stark?” the woman pales. “Don’t go anywhere. You said your name is Y/N?”

You smile and nod. The woman steps down from her podium and dashes into the back. 

“I thought you said you didn’t have any friends,” Natasha boldly teases. 

You turn and wink at her. 

“Tony and I went to college together,” you explain, although this implies you shared a friendship of some kind. “And clearly, his business is doing better than mine–”

The woman quickly returns with a short bearded man wearing a gray suit with red-tinted glasses that match his tie. 

“Y/N!” Tony shouts, embracing you in a dramatic hug. “You should’ve told me you were coming tonight! I could’ve put together a private booth in the back–”

“It was last-minute,” you say. “This is Natasha, by the way. She’s a friend.” Natasha is thrilled at the way you associate her with you.

“Hello, Natasha, I’m Tony.” He takes her hand and gently kisses her knuckles. He doesn’t seem surprised you haven’t brought Wanda along instead. “I take it you haven’t been here before, Miss Natasha? You won’t need a menu, I’ll have the chef bring out the best dishes we have tonight.”

“That’s very kind of you,” you say. 

“Follow me! You can have a table in our east wing. Where’s Wanda?” Tony says rapid-fire, turning around and leading them deeper into the restaurant. You step out of the way and motion to let Natasha go first, and she feels your hand graze her back as she walks past you. 

“She’s out with her girlfriends for the weekend,” you answer from behind Natasha. 

“Your anniversary is coming up, right?” Tony asks.

“Yes,” you respond, your voice suddenly tense.

The restaurant is packed, every visible table filled with customers, until they turn around a corner to a quiet, completely empty area.

“Pick any table. I’ll have a waiter come out with some drinks shortly,” Tony says.

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Natasha echoes, unsure if she likes this special treatment. You pick a table near the corner and pull her chair out for her. As soon as the two of you are seated, a waiter in a vested suit appears with a few bottles of wine, making suggestions and pouring samples into the glasses. Natasha doesn’t have enough knowledge to understand what he’s saying or differentiate the tastes, but she enjoys the experience. It feels strange to have someone serve her, when she’s normally the one waiting on people’s every demand. 

The two of you share several appetizers together. Natasha feels like she’s floating in a dream. You have been nothing but generous and respectful to her, but every time your left hand reaches across the table for the caviar, the wedding ring on your finger taunts her. 

The dinner itself is a four-course affair, including a rich chocolate cake that Natasha devours faster than she can fully enjoy. When the bill arrives (which Tony has already chopped in half), Natasha still asks if she can chip in (despite knowing full well she doesn’t have the money to cover even her portion), but you push her card away and give the waiter your black card.

The theater is three blocks from Tony’s restaurant, so you leave your car in valet parking and ask Natasha if she’s okay walking. She had not planned ahead very well, so she only has a thin cardigan to cover her shoulders. You notice her shivering and offer her your heavy black jacket that completely engulfs her frame. Your scent completely surrounds her now and Natasha swears she won’t wash this dress ever again.

The line into the theater moves quickly and Natasha follows you all the way down to the front, where your seats are perfectly center to the stage. She crawls over a few people, feeling a little smug about getting some of the best seats in the house. You had truly spoiled her tonight and she was never going to forget this. 

She leans over to whisper to you before the show begins. “Thank you for everything tonight. I’ve already had so much fun and the dinner was amazing.”

“You’re very welcome. Thank you for joining me, and thank you for all the hard work you do for my family,” you say and Natasha beams. “Me and Wanda really appreciate it.” Natasha deflates a little at the mention of your wife, but she pushes her out of her mind to focus on her time with you. 

As they wait, Natasha props her arm up on the armrest between you two so she can hold the playbill at a comfortable angle to read. Suddenly, your arm drops heavily on hers and she looks at you in confusion. You’re reading your own playbill and don’t seem to notice that your massive arm is practically crushing hers.

“Um, Y/N?” she prompts, clearing her throat.

“Hmm? Oh!” You quickly move your arm off hers. “I’m so sorry, I thought that was Wanda’s arm,” you explain with a nervous chuckle. Natasha laughs too, although she isn’t sure if she should be happy or worried that she reminds you of your wife. She’d be happy to take Wanda’s place any day, though. 

The musical is amazing, impressive beyond anything Natasha had ever expected. She cries when Elphaba defies gravity, and after the whirlwind of the second act, she is among the first to give a standing ovation. She’s floating on cloud nine as she walks with you out of the theater back to the car.

The drive back to your home is quick at the late hour. Just as you're about to pull into the driveway, you slam hard on the brakes, jolting everyone forward. Vision power walks past the beams of your headlights, only breaking the pump of his arms to wave in thanks.

“What is he doing out so late?” you ask, and Natasha is relieved to know she’s not the only one who thinks his habits are a bit odd.

“No idea,” she mumbles, watching you pull onto the driveway and stop.

“Thank you so much, Y/N,” Natasha says, still giddy with excitement.“This was the best night of my life. I’ve always wanted to see a Broadway show, ever since I was a little girl. I never thought I’d get the chance, even after I moved here–”

“You’re very welcome,” you interrupt, seeming almost shy with the praise.

“I’m sorry Wanda wasn’t able to join you for your own anniversary,” she adds, although she’s not sure why.

You shrug. “Nothing we can do about it now. Besides, I’m glad you were able to join me and had such a fun night. I don’t think this would have been nearly as fun by myself.”

There is a pause and Natasha has to force herself to stop looking at your lips. If she had no self-restraint, it wouldn’t have taken much for her to lean over the center console and kiss you.

“Have a good night, Natasha. Drive home safely,” you say as the two of you get out of the car.

“Thank you again!” Natasha doesn’t even listen to music on her way home, riding out the high of what was easily one of the most memorable nights of her life in over a decade.

***********************************************************************

A few weeks later, Natasha is working a double shift: the first one at Steve’s house, and the second at yours. You’re away at work, as usual, but she knows you’ll be home before she leaves for the day, and she never takes any glimpse of you for granted. Wanda is also back to being demanding and cranky, and Natasha has no idea if you told her about the night the two of you had together. She had felt the silent instruction from you not to blab about her taking Wanda’s place and was happy to keep the memories to herself.

She’s in the front hall, mopping while quietly humming “Defying Gravity” to herself, when Wanda clacks by in high-heels.

“Natasha!” she hisses. “Didn’t I tell you to start in the kitchen? If I slip out here because the floor is wet–”

“So sorry!” Natasha apologizes, hoping that she doesn’t finish her sentence. “I’ll put a fan on.” She rests her mop against the wall and darts off for the $300 Dyson fan in the closet. After pointing it towards the gleaming floor, she pushes her cart into the kitchen and continues mopping. She makes sure to open the window to air out the smell, and notices Steve across the street mowing his lawn. 

She stares at him, wondering if he can see her, and her question is quickly answered when Steve waves to her. She returns his wave with a smile, then goes back to her task before Wanda can complain she isn’t working hard enough. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him back away from his lawn mower and answer his phone; he disappears into his house hurriedly. 

“Natasha! Always make sure you open a window when you mop!” Wanda’s screech comes out of nowhere. “The chemicals you use give me a headache!”

“Oh, but the window is open–” Natasha tries to explain, but Wanda silences her with a wave of her hand.

“I’m on the phone!” she says, pointing to the cell phone held up to her ear. Natasha bites her lip, but holds her tongue. “Sorry, honey, what was that? No, I was talking to the maid,” she says. Natasha perks up despite the way Wanda titles her. You’re clearly on the other line, and maybe you’ll be home sooner than expected.

But Wanda disappears into a guest room (your house had so many of those), and Natasha can no longer hear her conversation. She dutifully continues to mop the floor, careful to fan the mop in a semi-circle pattern so as not to trap herself in a corner. She moves the chairs to the hallway one at a time, cursing their awkward shape that makes them difficult to carry and taking special care not to scrape the feet along the floor. 

Wanda’s shrill voice carries through the house again, this time covering a topic that makes Natasha’s cheeks heat up.

“Oh my God, yes, I’m still thinking about last night,” Wanda says. “When you had my legs behind my head–”

Natasha tries not to picture Wanda folded up like a pretzel while you plow into her. But she can imagine herself in a similar position (she’s not so confident in her own flexibility, but she’d make it work for you). Your hands could probably fit around her whole thighs as you push her legs apart wider, thrusting your hips in long strokes to fit your big dick into her. Natasha is embarrassed to admit that the last time she had masturbated, she had thought of you the whole time.

How much more you’d fill her compared to the flimsy toy she was using. How you would feel throbbing inside her, your body pressed hot and heavy against hers as you beg for her permission to finish. Imagining having you like that, with that kind of control, brought Natasha to the most amazing orgasm of her life. If only you had been there to share it with her. 

“I didn’t know if you’d be able to go another round, but you proved me wrong,” Wanda continues, and Natasha picks up on how breathless she sounds. She wonders if she’s touching herself right now, with Natasha mopping in the kitchen. Somehow, that wouldn’t be shocking to her. “You were still so hard when I put you down my throat.”

A lightning bolt of arousal strikes Natasha’s core. She can’t focus on mopping anymore, staring blankly out the kitchen window, lost in the new filthy fantasy playing in her head, guided by Wanda’s narration. 

Natasha lies between your legs, her lips barely brushing your hips as she takes your cock down her throat. She prays her gag reflex doesn’t protest at the obstruction in her airway, but despite the slight discomfort, she wants to do this all day. Your pants and moans are like music in her ears, urging her on to suck harder and take you deeper.

“Please Nat,” your voice wavers. The muscle fibers in your thighs are visibly tensed and your back arches off the bed when Natasha pushes your hips down, trying to maintain some kind of control over you. But your body seems to have a mind of its own, with only one goal in mind. 

“It’s almost like I can still taste you.”

You poke at the back of her throat and Natasha can feel the hot throbbing of your cock in her mouth. She’s so eager to swallow anything you’ll give her, she’s almost embarrassed in her desperation, but when your hands cup the back of her head, pushing her down so she can fit the last inch down her throat, she knows the two of you are on equal planes of passion.

Your entire body flexes and the anticipation for Natasha is overwhelming. You finally inhale sharply as the first hot spurt lands on her tongue. 

“Being on your knees for me is a good look for you.”

Natasha tips her head back against the wall, her fingers tangling in your hair. One of her legs rests on your shoulder while the other is spread far apart so you can kneel between them, your mouth pressed against her heat. Your tongue swirls around her clit and Natasha fears she won’t be able to stay standing much longer. 

“Y/N,” she pants, clutching your head tighter and rocking her hips forward. “I need you.”

Your fingernails dig harder into her thigh to still her. You look up into her eyes and Natasha thinks she’s going to finish right there. “You have me, baby. I’m all yours.”

“But there’s really only one place you belong.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you grunt, almost sending Natasha headfirst into the headboard with every one of your thrusts. “I could stay inside you forever.”

Natasha hums at the praise. She’s holding on the bedsheets for life, spasming and clenching around you, trying to pull you in deeper. You fill her so perfectly, she’s convinced her body was made for yours. 

“Tell me I’m better than her,” Natasha gasps, fighting to delay her own release.

“Fuck Wanda,” you grunt, pulling back on Natasha’s hips at the same time you thrust forward, burying your entire length into her. “I love you, Natasha. You’re the only one I ever want to be with.”

A noisy car engine pulls Natasha out of her head. Her face feels flushed with arousal, and she knows what she’s doing the second she goes home. Your green car suddenly pulls into the driveway but stops. You get out and walk to the street, grabbing one of the trash bins and pulling it towards the house.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me again,” Wanda says in the background.

The realization crashes down on Natasha’s head like a cold shower. She watches you grab the second bin with both hands, carefully walking backwards with it.

You’re not on the phone and you’re standing 30 feet away from Natasha. If Wanda’s not on the phone with you, then who is she talking to?

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AN: Who do you think Wanda was talking to? 👀

To be continued...(hopefully)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[shieldfoss]

Healthcare is bad in different countries for different reasons. I don't think I know any country where "we have a free market in health care" is part of the problem.

In America, fundamentally it's bad because they don't train enough doctors. No combination of cash payment, insurance, or government programs, can buy healthcare from a doctor that doesn't exist, and any solution that doesn't start with "train more doctors" just moves the limited doctor time around, rather than actually fixing anything. There are other defects, but "not enough doctors" is the original sin of the system.

In Denmark, fundamentally it's bad because the government mandates ever increasing amounts of paperwork, taking time away from actually helping people + also the government taxes me to fund all that paperwork so I don't have money to pay a doctor separately from the more-paperwork-than-healthcare system. I waited 1½ years for a specialist not because there aren't enough (though there aren't) but rather because the government only budgets for 3 days of work from that specialist. That specialist could work 2 more days every week without interfering with their weekend but they'd be working for free, so they don't. There are other defects, but "the government prevents healthcare" is the original sin of the system.

In the UK (Insert ignorant spiel about the NHS, I have no idea why the NHS is bad. They claim to be underfunded but are they too underfunded to provide the necessary healthcare, or are they too underfunded to do a bunch of unnecessary busywork and provide healthcare at the same time? Or are they not underfunded and just lying about it? Some fourth problem? I have no idea.)

But I don't think I know any country where "we have a free market in health care" is part of the problem, and while that isn't the same as "the problem is that our healthcare is socialized," it sure does rhyme.

Non-healthcare thoughts under the cut

This is another one of those situations where I think something like "I can understand why you think the government should help. This seems like the worst way to do it though."

It goes something like...

"There's a distinct lack of X consumption in our country. Let's solve it by:"

People who can afford X use as much X as they need. We need a government program that pays for poorer people's X.

It is currently illegal to make and sell X. Let's change that.

It is currently illegal to make and sell X. Obviously we could never let X be created outside of our control, let's have a government program to create and distribute X to people who can convince us they need it.

It is currently legal to create and sell X, but people can't afford it. Let's use the government to pay the X creators to create more X and sell it at a reduced price (or free)

If people can't afford something as basic as X, I bet there's a lot of stuff they can't afford, or other stuff that's even more important to them than X. Any program we create to manage X specifically will maybe solve the X problem, but is that even the most important problem to solve? We don't know people's lives. We should give people money, not X, and if X is their most important problem, that'll solve the X problem for them - and if they have worse problems than "not enough X" we'll have helped them even more than just giving them X.

Not solving it. Fuck'em.

People disagree with us, they think they use enough X. Make it illegal to not use X - the X creators will make more X if they have a guaranteed customer base.

These bullets aren't in any particular order, Some of them are clearly worse than others, but governments tend to reach for those worse solutions first!

As a politician, just like all the other amoral psychopaths, you will of course favor a solution that gives you and your supporters more power, like creating a new government agency and staffing it with your allies so you can pay your allies with the public's money.

As a voter, please stop voting for people who do that.

As a politician, just like all the other narcissists, you will of course favor a solution that gives you good headlines, like a program to pay for people's X.

As a voter, please stop voting for people who do that.

As a politician, just like all the other amoral psychopaths you will of course favor a system that keeps the price of X high for your allies in the X industry.

As a voter, please stop voting for people who do that.

As a politician, just like all the other narcissists, you will of course favor whatever solution just gives you a gut feeling of righteousness without worrying about whether you are actually helping.

As a voter, please stop voting for people who do that.

The government has certain advantages when it comes to solving coordination problems, and certain inherent inefficiencies. If you have a coordination problem, you can solve it (inefficiently) with the government. If you have any other type of problem, involving the government will not bring its coordinating advantage but will bring its inefficiency. Please stop trying, and please stop reelecting politicians who have done that, or promise to do it in the future.

Sometimes I see people from countries with public healthcare systems post videos that are like “This is the reality of socialized medicine. I had to wait in the ER with my sick baby for 4 hours.” “I had to wait 8 months to see a specialist. That’s egregious.” or “They didn’t have a bed for my loved one in mental health treatment.” and it’s like. Come to America babygirl. You can experience all of this and have your insurance deny it and pay thousands and thousands of dollars for it. Like I know healthcare systems in countries with public health can be bad but when I see someone imply they’re bad because the healthcare is universal, I want to jump through the screen and put my elbow on their throat. “The NHS is deeply flawed, therefore we should abolish it and go back to private healthcare. That will definitely make healthcare in this country better!” I am going to Kill You.

[woozinhos]

Hiiiiii okay so reader has a crush on mingyu and mingyu doesn’t care for her and wonwoo gets tired of her ass so he fucks her on mingyus bed ( ROUGHH) till all she can do is cry and scream ( he fucks her dumb basically)

Even on his bed I’m still better

Notes: stop why are all my fics so long today and why are they all hitting so good!

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Juicy smut below the cut

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The atmosphere was lively and loud as you stood chatting with Mingyu at the party. He was his usual charming self, laughing and joking with you, but you couldn't help feeling a flutter of nerves every time he smiled at you. You had been nursing a crush on him for months, and every time you saw him, your heart would race. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was something between you two, even if he didn't seem to notice.

Wonwoo stood off to the side, watching the two of you with a growing sense of frustration. He had been trying to get your attention all night, but it seemed like you were too caught up in your conversation with Mingyu to notice him. Mingyu was polite and friendly, but you couldn't help but notice that he didn't seem to reciprocate your feelings. He laughed at your jokes and smiled at your attempts to flirt, but there was always a hint of detachment in his expression. You tried not to let it get to you, but deep down, it stung. You couldn't understand why he wasn't interested in you when you were so obviously smitten with him.

As the conversation with Mingyu continued, you found yourself growing more and more flustered. You tried to steer the conversation in a direction that would make him realize your feelings, but he remained oblivious. You felt a pang of jealousy as he joked with another girl nearby, laughing at something she said. Wonwoo's frustration only grew as he watched you pine after someone who clearly wasn't interested. Wonwoo finally couldn't take it anymore. He walked over to where you and Mingyu were standing and inserted himself into the conversation.

"Hey," he said, his voice firm. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Mingyu looked a bit surprised at Wonwoo's interruption, but he nodded and stepped away to give you two some privacy. You followed Wonwoo to a quieter corner of the room, your heart racing with a mix of anticipation and nerves.

Once you were alone, Wonwoo turned to face you, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. "You need to stop," he said bluntly. "Stop flirting with Mingyu and wasting your time." You were taken aback by his bluntness, but you couldn't deny that a part of you had been expecting this conversation. "Why?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. "He's not interested, I know that, but I can't just give up." Wonwoo's frustration grew as he saw the stubborn look on your face.

"You're so blind," he said, his voice rising slightly. "Mingyu doesn't care about you like that, and you're just setting yourself up for heartbreak." You crossed your arms, defensive. "You don't know that," you retorted. "Maybe he just needs a little push." Wonwoo shook his head, clearly exasperated. "No, he doesn't. He's made it clear that he doesn't see you that way. You're just wasting your time chasing after someone who will never love you back."

His words stung, but you couldn't deny the truth in them. You had seen the way Mingyu acted around you, the way he never reciprocated your flirting or gave any indication that he was interested. But despite that, you still held onto hope that things could change. "Maybe I'm just being optimistic," you said quietly, looking down at the ground. Wonwoo couldn't hold back any longer. He stepped closer to you, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and longing.

"No, you're being stubborn and stupid," he said, his voice firm but tinged with desperation. "Because I'm the one who loves you. I've been right here, watching you chase after someone who doesn't deserve you." Your eyes widened in surprise as his words sank in. You had never seen Wonwoo like this before, so raw and vulnerable. "What?" you whispered, your heart racing. "You...you love me?" Wonwoo nodded, his expression a mixture of relief and vulnerability.

"Yes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've loved you for a long time, but I never said anything because I thought you were in love with Mingyu." Your mind was racing as you tried to process his confession. You had always thought of Wonwoo as a close friend, but you never considered the possibility that he felt something more for you. "Why didn't you say anything?" you asked, your voice shaking slightly. Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and defeated.

"I didn't want to ruin our friendship," he said. "I didn't want to risk losing you if you didn't feel the same way. So I kept quiet and watched you chase after someone who doesn't deserve you." Wonwoo looked at you with a mixture of hope and pleading in his eyes.

"Please," he said softly. "Give me a chance. I know I'm not perfect, but I'll do anything to make you happy. Just stop chasing after someone who doesn't appreciate you and let me show you how much I care." You were torn. On one hand, you had spent so long pining after Mingyu that it felt like giving up on him would be letting go of a part of yourself. But on the other hand, there was Wonwoo, standing in front of you, confessing his love and offering you a chance at something real.

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all you saw was sincerity and longing. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the decision you were about to make. "Okay," you said quietly. "I'll give you a chance." Wonwoo's eyes lit up with hope and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Really?" he asked, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean it?" You nodded, a small smile of your own forming.

"Yeah, I mean it," you said. "I'm tired of chasing after someone who doesn't want me. I'm ready to give you a chance." Wonwoo's eyes darkened with a mix of desire and determination. "I want to show you how much I've been wanting you," he said, his voice low and seductive. "Will you let me?" You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity in his voice. The way he was looking at you, as if you were the only person in the world, made your heart race with anticipation.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Show me." Wonwoo's grip on your wrist was firm as he led you upstairs, his strides long and purposeful. He didn't even hesitate as he opened the door to Mingyu's room and pulled you inside, closing the door behind him. The room was dark, with only the soft glow of a lamp illuminating the space. Wonwoo pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours. He pinned you against the wall, his hands roaming over your body as he pressed his lips against your neck.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. Wonwoo's words were rough and possessive, his desire for you clear in his voice. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes burning with intensity. "Let me show you how much better I am than him," he repeated, his fingers tracing a path down your body. "Let me make you forget all about Mingyu." Wonwoo smirked as he continued to press you against the wall, his hands moving lower and lower down your body.

"Even on his bed, I'll still be better," he whispered in your ear, his voice dripping with confidence. "I'll make you scream my name and forget all about that idiot." Wonwoo pushed you onto the bed, his body following closely behind. He hovered over you, his eyes raking over your body with a possessive hunger. "You're mine now," he growled, his hands roaming over your curves. "No more Mingyu, no more thinking about anyone else but me."

"Yes," you gasped out, your breath catching in your throat as he continued to touch you. "I'm yours. Only yours." Wonwoo's lips curled into a satisfied smirk at your words. He leaned down and captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth and exploring every inch. As he kissed you, his hands continued to roam over your body, his touch growing more urgent and possessive with each passing moment.

Wonwoo broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. He nipped and sucked at your skin, leaving a trail of marks in his wake. "You have no idea how long I've dreamed of having you like this," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. "All mine, writhing and moaning beneath me." Wonwoo's hands made quick work of the fabric of your dress, slowly revealing more and more of your skin. He pushed the material down your body, his eyes drinking in every inch of you as it fell to the floor.

"So beautiful," he whispered, his fingers tracing patterns across your bare skin. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to see you like this." Wonwoo tossed his t-shirt aside, revealing his toned chest and muscular arms. He looked down at you with a hungry expression, his eyes roaming over your body.

"You're perfect," he said, his voice rough with desire. "I can't believe I almost let you slip away from me." He leaned down, his body pressing against yours, his skin hot against yours. You could feel his hardness pressing against you through his jeans, and he let out a low growl of frustration.

"I need you," he said, his lips finding your ear. "Now."

Wonwoo's hands moved to the waistband of your panties, his fingers tracing the edge teasingly. "Lift your hips for me," he commanded, his voice firm and commanding. You obeyed his command, lifting your hips off the bed. Wonwoo slowly pulled your panties down your legs, his eyes fixed on the sight of your exposed body.

"You're even more beautiful than I imagined," he said, his voice low and husky. "And all mine."

"Get on your hands and knees," Wonwoo commanded, his eyes dark with desire. "I want to take you from behind."

"I'm sorry, but I need to show you what you've been missing," Wonwoo repeated, his voice filled with a mix of apology and determination. "You deserve to feel pleasure like you've never felt before." You slowly got onto your hands and knees, your body trembling with anticipation. As you presented yourself to Wonwoo, you felt a mix of vulnerability and excitement coursing through your veins. You could feel the heat of his gaze on your body, his eyes roaming over every curve and contour. You could sense the tension in the air, the unspoken promise of pleasure that was about to be fulfilled. Wonwoo positioned himself behind you, his hands running over your back and down to your hips. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back as he whispered in your ear.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look like this," he said, his breath hot against your skin. "All mine, ready and waiting for me." He trailed his lips down your spine, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. His hands continued to explore your body, his touch growing more confident and possessive. "I'm going to make you feel so good," he promised, his voice low and seductive. "I'm going to make you forget everything but my name." Wonwoo slowly pushed himself inside you, filling you up inch by inch. He let out a low groan of pleasure as he bottomed out, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice strained. "You feel so good. So tight and perfect." Wonwoo set a punishing pace, his thrusts hard and rough as he pounded into you from behind. Each movement was filled with purpose, as if he was determined to erase any memory of Mingyu from your mind. He leaned forward, his chest pressed against your back, his lips finding the nape of your neck. He bit down gently, marking you as his own. As you arched your back, pushing your body against him, Wonwoo's grip on your hips tightened. He adjusted his angle, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you with every thrust.

"You're so good for me," he panted, his voice thick with pleasure. "Taking me so well, just like you were made for me." Wonwoo tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back slightly. The sudden sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you moaned loudly in response. "That's it," he growled, his grip on your hair tightening. "I want to hear you moan for me. I want everyone to know who you belong to."

"Scream my name," Wonwoo commanded, his voice rough and dominant. "Let everyone know who's making you feel this way." As he continued to pound into you, his thrusts growing faster and harder, you couldn't hold back any longer. The pleasure was too much, and you screamed his name. "Wonwoo!" you cried out, your voice echoing through the room. Wonwoo's grip on your hair loosened as he heard you scream his name, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear. "That's it, baby," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You're mine. Say it again."

"I'm yours, Wonwoo," you panted, your voice ragged with pleasure. "I'm all yours." He growled in response, his thrusts becoming more urgent and desperate. He was close, and he wanted you to come undone for him. "Say it again," he demanded, his fingers digging into your hips. "I need to hear you say it one more time."

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," you chanted, the words spilling from your lips like a mantra. You could feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tight in your core.

"That's it," Wonwoo groaned, his voice strained. "Come for me, baby. Come for me and I'll give you everything." You felt your body tense, your muscles coiling tightly as your orgasm washed over you. You cried out Wonwoo's name, your body shaking with the force of your release. Wonwoo followed soon after, his own climax crashing over him as he thrust into you one final time. He buried his face in your neck, his body shuddering against yours as he came deep inside you. Wonwoo's thrusts slowed as he rode out his orgasm, his body trembling against yours. He held you close, his arms wrapping around you as he caught his breath.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "You're amazing. I don't think I've ever felt that good before."

Wonwoo carefully pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were lying on top of him. He traced lazy patterns on your back, his fingers skimming over your skin. “I'm never letting you go," he murmured, his voice filled with possessiveness. "You're mine, forever." Wonwoo reached over and grabbed a blanket, pulling it over the two of you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you snuggled into his chest.

"We should stay like this for a while," he said, his voice sleepy. "Just us, no one else."

"That was...incredible," you murmured, your voice soft and dreamy. "You were incredible."

All of a sudden the door swung open and Mingyu walked in, stopping in his tracks as he took in the sight of you and Wonwoo lying together on his bed, wrapped up in each other. His eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment he just stood there, speechless. Mingyu's eyes darted around the room, taking in the scattered clothes and the obvious signs of what had just happened. He looked back at you and Wonwoo, his expression a mix of shock and anger.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, his voice sharp. Wonwoo smirked, his arms tightening around you as he spoke.

"Just showing her what she's been missing, that's all," he said casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "And I must say, she's been enjoying herself quite a bit."

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she can date whoever she wants to, i don't care.

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James and you still aren't on talking terms, he avoids you, never gets too close to you, yet complains to everyone when he sees you get close to your new charms partner.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r is a gryffindor lol, this is lowkey super short… 2.1k words, the next chapter will be better...trust

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It had been weeks. Weeks since James had last spoken to you, the last time you had talked was in december, now you're almost two weeks into february, and the rift between you only seemed to grow wider. At first, he told himself he was giving you space. He thought that if he stayed back, you’d eventually come to him, and things would go back to normal. But that wasn’t what happened.

Every time James worked up the courage to approach you, it was the same thing: you were with him.

Finn Laurier.

James hated how the name left a sour taste in his mouth. Finn wasn’t a bad guy—he was charming, clever, and polite. Too polite, in James’s opinion. Finn Laurier was completely different from James, and that only made the knot of insecurity and jealousy in James’s chest tighten.

While James was loud and brash, Finn had an easygoing, quiet confidence about him. Where James was all about grand gestures and bold declarations, Finn had a knack for subtlety and knowing the right thing to say at the right time. It didn’t help that Finn had somehow managed to claim the spot James had always held at your side, and you didn’t seem to mind.

From across the common room, James watched as Finn leaned in closer to you, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. You laughed at something he said, the sound tugging at James’s heart in a way that made him feel like an idiot.

He slumped back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “What does she even see in him?” he muttered under his breath.

Sirius, sprawled out beside him, didn’t bother to hide his amusement. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s good-looking, smart, and doesn’t look like he’s been moping for weeks?”

James glared at him. “I’m not moping.”

“Sure, you’re not,” Sirius drawled. “That’s why you’ve been staring at them for the past ten minutes like you’re about to hex him.”

“I’m not going to hex him,” James grumbled. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s very mature of you, Prongs,” Remus chimed in from his corner, not looking up from his book. “But maybe instead of glaring at him, you should focus on fixing things with her.”

“Yeah, because that’s gone so well for me so far,” James shot back bitterly.

“Have you even tried?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

James opened his mouth to respond but hesitated. The truth was, he had tried—at least, he thought he had. But every time he saw you, Finn was there, making you laugh, leaning just a little too close. And every time, James felt like his chances were slipping further and further away.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to ignore the knot of confusion and hurt that James’s behavior had left behind. You weren’t blind to the way he’d been avoiding you, or how he seemed to retreat every time you so much as glanced in his direction.

Finn had been a welcome distraction. He was kind, easy to talk to, and, most importantly, he didn’t make you feel like you’d done something wrong. But even as you laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories, you couldn’t shake the feeling of James’s eyes on you from across the room.

“Everything okay?” Finn asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’ve been quiet all of a sudden,” Finn said, tilting his head slightly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you said quickly, offering him a small smile. “I just… I guess I’m a little distracted.”

Finn nodded, his expression understanding. “Fair enough. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“Thanks, Finn,” you said softly, though your gaze drifted back toward James.

He was still sitting on the couch with Sirius, looking like he was caught between frustration and defeat. When your eyes met for the briefest of moments, he quickly looked away, running a hand through his already messy hair.

You sighed, your chest tightening. Whatever had happened between you and James, it felt bigger than anything you could fix with a simple conversation. But you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle this silent stalemate.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was now James’s second least favorite day—Valentine’s Day. His least favorite day was still the one he’d sat in Charms class and watched you laugh with Finn Laurier for the first time. That moment had burned itself into his memory, playing on a cruel loop every time he closed his eyes.

But this… this was a close second.

If you had told James back in December that he’d be avoiding you on Valentine’s Day instead of spending it as a happy, loved-up couple, he would have called you mad. Back then, he’d been so sure of himself. So sure that his letter, his heartfelt, trembling confession, would be the thing that finally made you see him as more than just James Potter, your goofy best friend.

And yet, here he was, slouched in a chair in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by heart-shaped confetti that refused to disappear no matter how many times he swatted it away. The house elves had really outdone themselves this year—floating cupid decorations zipped around the room, shooting glittering pink arrows into the air. James glared at one that came a little too close, muttering something about “bloody overkill.”

“I hate this,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking lower into his chair.

“Well, don’t be sulking for the whole day,” Sirius said, perched on the arm of the couch nearby. His tone was a mix of amusement and exasperation, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re all supposed to go to The Three Broomsticks soon, remember?”

James let out another unintelligible grumble, something that sounded suspiciously like “don’t want to,” though the exact words were lost in his sulk.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Come on, mate, this is getting ridiculous. You’ve been moping around for weeks.”

“I’m not moping,” James shot back, though the words lacked any real conviction.

“You’re literally the definition of moping,” Sirius said, smirking. “You’re sitting here, arms crossed, glaring at a cupid like it personally insulted your family.”

“I don’t want to go to The Three Broomsticks,” James muttered.

“And why not?” Sirius pressed, though James could tell from his tone that he already knew the answer.

James sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Because she might be there,��� he admitted quietly.

“She, as in you-know-who?” Sirius teased, though his smirk softened slightly when he saw the genuine frustration on James’s face. “Look, Prongs, you can’t avoid her forever. It’s a small castle. You’re bound to run into her eventually.”

“I know that,” James said, his voice tight. “But I just… I can’t deal with seeing her with him today, alright? Not on bloody Valentine’s Day.”

Sirius leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re assuming she’s spending the day with Finn, but has she actually told you that?”

James hesitated. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. “But why wouldn’t she? He’s—he’s Finn Laurier, for Merlin’s sake. He’s perfect. Why wouldn’t she spend Valentine’s Day with him?”

“You’re an idiot,” Sirius said matter-of-factly.

James blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sirius said, standing up and stretching, “that instead of sitting here feeling sorry for yourself, you could actually try talking to her. Maybe, just maybe, things aren’t as hopeless as you think.”

James stared at him, his heart hammering in his chest. The idea of approaching you now, after everything, felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. But Sirius’s words planted a small, stubborn seed of hope in his mind.

“Fine,” James muttered, standing up. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m hexing you.”

Sirius grinned. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As James followed Sirius out of the common room, his mind raced with a hundred different scenarios. He wasn’t sure what he’d say if he saw you—or if he even had the courage to say anything at all. But one thing was certain: he couldn’t keep hiding forever. But it looks like the odds were not in his favor–he felt like his world was crumbling. He knew he shouldn't have listened to Sirius, it just made things worse. You had said yes to being Finn’s valentine–and worst of all, who asks a girl out on valentine's day?

James scoffed, his sadness shifting into a simmering anger. He quickly left the scene, Sirius trailed behind him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

“Slow down, Prongs!” Sirius called.

James didn’t respond, only slowing when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. He paused there, allowing Sirius to catch up before muttering the password under his breath. As the portrait swung open, James turned to his friend with a scowl.

“I’m never listening to you again.”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius protested, throwing up his hands. “How was I supposed to know Laurier would swoop in right then and there?”

Inside the common room, Remus and Peter exchanged curious glances.

“What happened?” Remus asked, his tone cautious.

“She was right there,” James burst out, his voice rising with frustration. “And so was Laurier. He asked her out! They didn’t even see me—or Sirius, thankfully—but still!” He threw himself into an armchair, running a hand through his already messy hair.

The others stayed silent, unsure how to comfort him.

After an awkward three minutes, Peter cleared his throat and attempted to lighten the mood. “Why don’t we head to the Three Broomsticks? A bit of butterbeer might help take your mind off things.”

For a moment, James said nothing. Then, as if possessed by some newfound resolve, he stood abruptly.

“You know what? You’re right,” he said, surprising everyone. “If she can be completely unbothered after I confessed my undying love for her, then ignore me, and worst of all—start dating some tosser who’s the polar opposite of me—then fine. I’ll move on too. Starting now. Let’s go.”

The other Marauders stared at him, dumbfounded. This wasn’t the James they knew—the James who would spend hours pestering Sirius about why you hadn’t replied to his letters, the James who badgered Remus for details about your every interaction, the James who constantly begged Peter for updates about you in the classes you shared.

It was as if the James Potter they knew had been replaced by someone else entirely.

The streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed with snow, the cold biting at their cheeks as the Marauders made their way to the Three Broomsticks. James led the group, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his jaw set tight. He was unusually quiet, his normal easy going demeanor replaced with something sharper, more defensive.

Sirius tried to break the silence first. “Prongs, mate, you know she didn’t do it to hurt you, right? She probably didn’t even know how you felt.”

James let out a sharp laugh, his breath clouding in the cold air. “She didn’t know? Oh, she knew. I wrote her a bloody letter, Padfoot. I poured my heart out. If she didn’t get the hint, then she’s thicker than I thought—and she’s not thick.”

Sirius grimaced, clearly regretting his choice of words. “Alright, alright, bad point. But still, Laurier? The guy’s got the personality of a Flobberworm.”

“Doesn’t matter,” James muttered. “Apparently, she likes Flobberworms.”

Peter, trying to ease the tension, piped up, “Well, maybe Laurier’s just a rebound, you know? She’ll realize what a tosser he is soon enough.”

Remus shot Peter a warning look, but James seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice.

“Rebound from what?” James muttered. “She’s never been with anyone to rebound from.”

They reached the Three Broomsticks, the warm glow from inside spilling out onto the snow-covered street. The group filed in, quickly finding a table in the back corner. The usual bustling energy of the pub seemed muted to James, his mind too occupied with replaying the moment he’d seen you say yes to Finn Laurier.

A round of butterbeers arrived at the table, and Sirius pushed a tankard in front of James. “Alright, here’s the plan,” Sirius said, leaning forward. “We’re going to have a laugh, you’re going to forget about Laurier, and tomorrow, you’ll go back to being your annoying, charming self. Sounds good?”

James took a long sip of his butterbeer, the warm liquid doing little to ease the ache in his chest. “Yeah, sure. Forget about her. Easy.”

“James,” Remus said gently, “it’s okay to be upset. You don’t have to act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m not acting,” James snapped, though his tone softened almost immediately. “I’m fine. Really.”

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus, both of them unconvinced.

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[4vanaa]

—PILOT “Family Dinner (Or Whatever This Is)” outer banks modern family au

[It’s family dinner night at Pope and Cleo’s house—an attempt at a civilized gathering that, predictably, turns into an absolute disaster before it even starts. Each family is scrambling to get ready, kids are causing havoc, and in classic Modern Family fashion, the confessionals, give us an inside look at just how unhinged this crew really is.]

[LO: CAMERON HOUSEHOLD]

The camera cuts to Rafe standing in the living room, staring at a screaming Poppy (3), who has decided she doesn’t want to wear clothes. Milo (10) is sitting on the couch, fully dressed but casually eating a Pop-Tart, while Ava (15) is still upstairs, refusing to come down.

CONFESSIONAL Rafe & You

YOU: deadpan “We’re supposed to leave in five minutes.”

RAFE: chuckling, gesturing to the mess behind him “Yeah… that’s not happening.”

YOU: “Ava won’t come downstairs, Poppy is running around naked, and Milo—” glares off-camera“—MILO, STOP FEEDING THE DOG CHIPS.”

RAFE: shrugs “At least the dog’s eating.”

—Cut to Ava upstairs, dramatically lying on her bed, scrolling on her phone.

CONFESSIONAL Ava

AVA: “I don’t even know why we have these family dinners. Every time, someone storms out, someone cries, and last time Uncle JJ almost set the backyard on fire.” pause “It was kind of iconic, though.”

—Smash cut to Rafe yelling up the stairs, “AVA, GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE OR YOU’RE GROUNDED.”

CONFESSIONAL Poppy

POPPY: grinning, wearing fairy wings and no pants “Daddy said a bad word.”

[LO: MAYBANK HOUSEHOLD]

The Maybank house is too calm, which is a bad sign. Jax (7) is fully dressed but covered in dirt, while Maya (12) is filming a TikTok dance in the kitchen. Kai (16), still shirtless, is texting someone suspiciously while JJ is making nachos instead of getting dressed.

CONFESSIONAL Kiara & JJ

KIARA: “JJ doesn’t understand the concept of—” hand quotes “— getting ready.”

JJ: mouth full of nachos “That’s because dinner is at seven, and it is currently—” checks phone “—not seven.”

KIARA: death glare

Meanwhile, Jax is whispering something to Milo(who is FaceTiming him), clearly planning some kind of mischief.

CONFESSIONAL Jax & Maya

JAX: grinning mischievously “Milo and I are bringing stink bombs.”

MAYA: rolling her eyes “This is why we’re never invited anywhere nice.”

—Cut to Kiara snatching JJ’s nachos, forcing him upstairs. Kai is still standing there, texting, when Kiara calls him out—

KIARA: “Kai. Shirt. Now.”

KAI: grinning “Ava likes this one.”

JJ: (off-screen): “Damn right she does—OW! KIE!”

[LO: ROUTLEDGE HOUSEHOLD]

Sarah is running around, trying to wrangle Lily (9) & Bennett (4) into their shoes, while Carter (14) is sitting on the counter, eating chips, and doing absolutely nothing to help. John B is... well, he’s looking for his shoes.

CONFESSIONAL John B & Sarah

SARAH: exasperated “We’re late every. Single. Time.”

JOHN B: defensive “Okay, but, like, time is a social construct.”

SARAH: “Tell that to Cleo when we show up forty-five minutes late and she glares at us until we die.”

—Smash cut to Carter smirking.

CONFESSIONAL Carter

CARTER: “Mom and Dad are always late. I don’t even try to get ready until at least ten minutes after they freak out. At this point, it’s a science.”

[LO: HEYWARD HOUSEHOLD]

Pope and Cleo are setting up dinner, the only responsible people in the entire family. Zara (13) is helping, while Jude (8) is sneakily trying to set up a booby trap near the front door.

CONFESSIONAL Pope & Cleo

POPE: stressed “This is a simple dinner. Why is that impossible?”

CLEO: deadpan “Because we’re related to crazy people.”

The doorbell rings. It’s Topper, who has arrived early with Finn (15) & Ruby (6).

CONFESSIONAL Topper

TOPPER: smug “I don’t know why it’s so hard for everyone to be on time. My family runs like a well-oiled machine.”

—Cut to Ruby throwing a juice box at Finn’s head while he scrolls through his phone, completely unfazed.

༝ Your family shows up fifteen minutes late, and Poppy is still wearing fairy wings (but now has pants).

༝ JJ & Kiara’s kids immediately run off with Jax’s stink bombs.

༝ John B & Sarah arrive last(again), and Cleo just glares at them.

༝ Ruby and Bennett start a war over the last dinner roll.

༝ Ava & Kai are flirting, which makes Rafe visibly twitch.

༝ Jude’s booby trap actually works, and Topper gets hit with a bucket of water.

CONFESSIONAL Pope

POPE: staring blankly at the camera, wine glass in hand “I hate them all.”

CONFESSIONAL JJ & Rafe

JJ: “See, this is why we don’t try to be responsible.”

RAFE: “You don’t try because you’re lazy.”

JJ: grinning “And yet, here we are. Surviving. Thriving. Watching Topper get hit with a bucket.”

—Cut to Topper still dripping wet, cursing under his breath as Ruby and Bennett cackle.

CONFESSIONAL Poppy & Bennett

POPPY: whispers “Uncle Barry said this family is crazy.”

BENNETT: nodding seriously “Uncle Barry is right.”

—Smash cut to Barry arriving fashionably late with a six-pack of beer and a bag of chips, looking at the disaster in front of him.

CONFESSIONAL Barry

BARRY: grinning “Yeah, this is exactly why I don’t have kids.”

[tookishcombeferre]

I'm a 30 year old transmasc non-binary person. I saw the movie Atlantis: The Lost Empire when I was 7 in the theater. My dad's dad had just died, and we weren't all that close. But, it really helped me to see Milo process the death of his own grandfather at the time. I think Atlantis came out about a year(?) after my dad's dad died? Anyway, I really always related to Milo even if I couldn't understand why at the time. (Now I get it.) I just watched the movie again because I wanted to, and my toddler watched bits and pieces with me while we shared some tea. They watched me *bawl.* My mom's dad, though we never got to talk about the fullness of my experience before he died a little less than two years ago, was the only family member who just understood me with no words. He never knew my name or pronouns - so he never used them. But, he got *me.* His yard was where I could climb trees, feed birds, roughhouse, and do all the "forbidden boyish" stuff. I watched Robin Hood and The Sorcerer's Stone in his living room. I built towers up to the ceiling. I got to read Frankenstein on his porch when I was in the seventh grade. I'm pretty sure my first unabridged copy of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries was purchased for me by him. He was basically my dad or second-dad. Later, he would listen to me talk about my papers, my poems, and my stories and, in turn, I'd listen to the latest of his research in biophysics, when he was still a researcher, or I'd listen to him explain, in layman's terms, the newest experiments he would read about after he stopped doing his own stuff. These were our lost civilizations and genuine arrowheads. When Mr. Whitmore handed Milo the Shepherd's Journal and said the line "Our lives are marked by the gifts we leave our children, and this is your grandfather's gift to you." My own kid was pillowed on my shoulder. I heard that line at 7. I cried in the theater because it's sad. You don't have to have lived the line for it be sad. I needed to learn loss young so I could feel loss better older. Because, now? That line collapsed on me like a ton of bricks, but I didn't get crushed by those bricks. I had a hard hat and padding to protect me. Like I said, my grandfather was like my dad. He's not coming back. But, he has given me so much. He has left me so much, and I get to decide what I want to leave to my own kid someday. I get to decide what world, what legacy, and what I leave for my own child. Because, it wasn't just the journal that Thaddeus left for Milo. It was the values that allowed Milo to remain steadfast when standing up to people physically stronger than him. I remember that right now. Especially right now. It's not just the intellectual gifts my grandfather left me. It's the tenacity. It's the love. It's protectiveness. It's the gentleness. It's the grace. It's the desire to be curious. It's the *need* to know. It's quiet faith. It's the desire to do justice. It's the desire to see peace for the next generation. It's the desire to listen to all sides of an argument before saying my own piece while also knowing when things have gone way too far and need to be shut down. It's knowing when and how to give people space to grow in their own way and time. Because, while everyone else in my family was forcing me into dresses, my grandfather was letting me climb trees in jeans and sneakers. He also didn't bat an eyelash when I cut my hair off my junior year of high school. So, he may not be here. But, he lives in the gifts he left me. So, while, I got my vaccine at 7, it didn't take effect until 28. Even then, I'm only just starting to feel like I'm actually inoculated at 30.

We can't be afraid to keep inoculating the youth. Kids need to see death, loss, and such like in their media. Withholding it from them just makes them less equipped for these exact moments when they're older. I firmly believe that.

Dear, sweet, Littlefoot, do you remember the way to the Great Valley?  I guess so. But why do I have to know if you’re going to be with me? I’ll be with you. Even if you can’t see me. What do you mean I can’t see you? I can always see you.

The Land Before Time(1988) dir. Don Bluth

[betweenstorms]

Ghost never used your callsign.

Not once outside of a mission.

Everyone else did, of course. On the comms, in the field, even in the rare moments of downtime. They called you Snaps, quick as the crack of a match, sharp as the sound of fingers breaking the quiet, edged with the understanding that some fires were meant to burn, not to warm. You were a role to fill, a name to answer to. You were your rank, your title, your purpose, stitched to your chest, something impersonal and replaceable.

But not to him.

Ghost used your name instead, your real name, the one buried beneath the weight of duty and protocol. It wasn’t obvious at first. Your lieutenant wasn’t careless. Not with his movements, not with his silences. Not with you.

The way he said it—it was different.

He never said it like Johnny’s name, thrown out with familiarity, with ease and sometimes with warning. No, when Simon Riley spoke your name, it was as if he was testing it. Like it didn’t belong to him, but he wanted to know how it felt in his mouth anyway. He said it like he wasn’t supposed to, like it was something personal lodged in his throat, heavy enough to keep there, dangerous enough to let slip.

“Why don’t you use my callsign, sir?”

A shift. Barely there.

Ghost kept his head forward, kept his hands steady as he checked the strap on his vest during your team's usual mission preparation. His balaclava hid everything, but you knew his eyes had gone sharp, calculating. Measuring the weight of your question before deciding what it was worth.

“Don’t see the point.”

Flat. Blunt. Dismissive in the way only he could be. But his voice was lower than usual. A fraction softer, like a thread had come loose in all that careful restraint.

“You do with everyone else.”

“You ain’t everyone else.”

The answer came too quickly. Too easily.

Like it had been there all along, waiting.

You opened your mouth to press further, but his eyes flicked to yours, cutting through the air like a warning. Not unkind, just final. Like a door being shut. You blinked, but he didn’t offer anything more. Just finished adjusting his gear and straightened, towering over you in the dim light. But then, almost imperceptibly, his shoulders loosened. He tilted his head, his attention drifting to the entrance of the hangar, to the night outside. “I call people what they are,” he muttered, almost to himself. “And you’re not just that.”

That was all he gave you.

And yet, somehow, it was enough.

And the worst part? You didn’t know if he was talking about your name on his tongue or the fact that you liked it there.

Because you did.

He was never a man of many words, his intentions lived in the spaces between them, woven into subtle actions, in the careful precision with which he spoke. He never wasted breath on unnecessary sentiment, yet somehow, you always understood him. Whatever his reasons, you found yourself drawn to it, to him.

And you liked it—God, you liked it.

Just as much as you liked the weight of his stolen glances, the sharp edge of his wit, the quiet cruelty of his humor, dark as the depths that called to him. You liked the way his deep voice carried, low and steady, a storm before the crash. You liked his bravery, the way he walked through danger like it was nothing but an inconvenience.

And if you were honest, you liked everything about him, really.

More than you should. More than was safe.

Maybe that’s why you never corrected him.

Why you never asked him to stop.

Because you loved everything about him.

Even the things you shouldn’t.

betweenstorms (next) (masterlist)

[monotonykillsartist]

So headcanon Fawcett was way ahead of their time and also they make there own laws, cause like sure try going into the city and try to enforce straight marriage only or segregation cause like they literally have alligator people who are green blue faries pink nymphs so why would they care I'd someone was dark skinned. Also also someone did once try to go and argue against same sex marriage and was killed by a nymph, and then another one had their head caved in by a centar.

Interviewer: "So, Captain Marvel, I have to ask. Since Fawcett is a city that's been stuck in the 50s, how do you guys feel about same sex marrage?"

*Both Billy and Solomon confused like all the words make sense but put together seems kind of odd* Caption Marvel, confused head tilt: "What do you mean by that?"

Interviewer, slightly confused: "Err like a regular marriage but between two men or two women?"

Captain marvel let's out an 'ohhh' of understanding: "Well, in Fawcett, we don't have tha-" gets cut off by egar Interviewer

Interviewer: "So Fawcett is homophonic and stuck in the past?!?!" excited for a hot controversial scope.

Caption Marvel is even more confused now: "I mean, we don't have a specific name for it. We just call it marriage, like Sue and Sara have been married since I think the 20s?'

*Diffrent Interview with Different Interviewer*

Interviewer: "Since fawceet is stuck in the 50s, did you guys ever stop with the segregation?"

Captain Marvel with a look of disgust: "Ewww no we-" interrupted by Interviewer

Eger Interviewer: "So you guys are rassicst!!!"

Captian Marvel bewildered: "No we never started in the first place, Fawcett has always had a city wide ban on slavery and unlawful containment, no slaves were ever owned in Fawcett we did allow any and all to seek refuge from slavery. The city typically allowed them to stay."

Because really all Fawcett residents knew the city itself was sentient, and if it didn't want you there, you wouldn't last more than 48 hours.

*Diffrent Interviewer*

Interviewer: "What are your thoughts on the possibility of a female president, or do you think women should stay at home like the little housewives from the 50s?"

Captain Marvel offended on behalf of his city: "The founder of the city, the current mayor, is a woman. Her wife enjoys staying at home and upkeeping the house. Neither is better or worse than the other."

Interviewer: "I umm wasn't aware of that...err what about transgender people? Do you think to say about them?"

Marvel sighs: "What does that mean?"

Interviewer: "When someone is born, as say a man and chooses to become a woman, " looks on with intense eyes.

Captian Marvel with raised eyebrow: "So again like the mayor? We just call thoese folks blessed by the fae."

Interviewer looking lost: "I'm sorry what umm what exactly do you mean by that"

Captain marvel now in teaching mode, "So the fae do enjoy tricking people out of their names and legal identities but some people choose to just straight up ask to give their names to the a fae, then they just rename themselves. We have a whole system in place in case you need to make new identification. Also, if you ask one of the nymphs, they might help you with the rest of changing. That's how the mayor met her wife, I believe."

*peoples reactions to the Interviewers*

"Dang, a city stuck in the 50s has apparently been way ahead of the time since its founding."

"So I want born in the wrong era just the wrong city"

"Anyone else planning on moving to fawccet or just me? Hope the city accepts me, whatever that means lol"

[rosiehrs]

TWO STEPS BEHIND ✧ 09. they might sell

⤻ in which sophia laforteza, praised for her all-round skills and leadership, is tasked with guiding the new trainee to catch up with the others. but as y/n l/n struggles to keep up, sophia can't help but see the girl as a burden holding her back from her own success – and with each misstep, her resentment grows.

wc: 728

you watched nikky critique megan's lack of detail with a terrified look on your face. although the girl was younger and.. weird, you looked up to her and her work. she excelled at everything and she raised the standards for every girl in the room.

you hadn't even noticed the small misstep she had, yet nikky was tearing her to shreds about it. everyone expected more from her, and well, you didn't know a thing.

while nikky focused on helping those in higher levels, you and the other girls practiced on your own in the other side of the room. you stayed in the back, silently struggling with the position of your arms and the sway of your hips. you made glances to your fellow trainees and immediately felt a rush of embarrassment flowing through your veins. you couldn't shake off the fact that these girls were light years ahead of you. they moved with such ease, while you still stumbled over your own feet.

sophia listened as nikky pointed out a flaw in emily's moves, the sound fading as soon as her eyes landed on your through the mirror. she saw the way you sheepishly tried to dance with the other girls as you watched from the back. she turned to nikky and saw how she was preoccupied and silently made her way over to you.

"you alright?" she asked, smiling softly as you stopped your moves and stood up straight. "i- uh, yeah. just.. trying to get this, but i look weird."

"show me."

with that, you felt your entire body stiffen. this always happens; this is the reason why you're never able to perform well during your practices. she made you so nervous to the point where you felt like your bones were glued together.

"y/n?" she called out again, snapping you out of your thoughts. "hm? oh, right. sorry."

you sang the part of the song and showed her what you were struggling with.

this is the part when i say i don't want you,

i'm stronger than i've been before

sophia nodded, understanding the issue. "ah, you need to hold your arms up higher, like this." she demonstrated, lifting your arms out in front of you. "and lock your elbows–yeah, like that." she moved behind you, squinting her eyes as she observed. "your legs have to be further apart, and bend your knees a little." you obliged, your movements feeling a bit more aligned.

"okay, yeah. now do the move again."

you repeated the move, watching her through the mirror. "better! but your hips, watch me." she said, and your brain turned to mush as she demonstrated the move, swaying her hips fluidly.

"you saw that, right? just pretend like you're using a hula hoop. try again." she suggested, standing behind you once again. you tried following her instructions, but your movements still looked off. "hey, hey, hey." she started, placing her hands on your waist and you immediately felt your muscles tense under her touch as warmth flooded your cheeks. "loosen up, y/n. you're stiff, do it again but i'll guide you, okay?"

you felt your voice caught in your throat, nodding as you stared ahead at the mirror. you did the move again, but slowly as she directed your hips with soft, precise adjustments.

sophia didn't realise how close she had gotten until her front brushed against your back. she stepped aside and pulled her hands back as she felt her own cheeks begin to burn. "it– uh, sorry. but that was good. i–"

"okay, guys! let's start from the top!" nikky called over, cutting sophia off. "um, okay. let's practice more later then. good job." she smiled, before walking back to where the higher levels stood.

"jesus christ, what was that tension in the air?" manon asked, sneaking up behind you and making you jump. "fuck! don't do that!" you scolded, slapping her away. she burst out laughing. "bro, i nearly pissed myself just then, i do not know what that was."

"that was so gay, it genuinely made me itch." she grinned, wrapping her arms around you as you swore at her. "you're such a dick, manon."

what none of you realised was that missy and mitra watched your every move with sophia. the two women exchanged a glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

masterlist | next

a/n - guys ITLL GET BETTER HOLD AWN

TAGLIST CLOSED! @ssamlovr @sunshinez4 @fruityg0rl @meganskiendielsbtc @falling-intoo-deep @arihiu @nyssalvr @1luvkarina @ssryv @vrtualstar @hazel-tanthamore22 @lafortezalover @yeetaberry127 @leeseulss @saysirhc @gtfoiydlyj @bbanghanni @c-yerim @chaesitonmyface @en-chantedtomeetyou @jellaaa @artrizzler19 @soobnotfound @yukianism @perfectsunlight @meizinisnumberone @linnnsworld @thepurin @goofymickeyr @kristalag @cassiespoiler @blushmimi @meiphobic @taikabui @cceanvvaves

[katerinaaqu]

I agree it is closer to modern Greek too to mention the translation of the word "xanthos" as "blonde" but ancient greek colors are not always so cut and clean so oftentimes it means just "fair haired" or "blonde" or can be "reddish" or "auburn" till reddish brown. Basically it is a factor that means "shiny" on occasion so I guess it is up for interpretation although yeah in modern Greek there is no doubt that "xanthos" means "blonde" but ancient Greeks loved to make even our lives difficult! Hahaha! Not at all. Proteus and his prophecies are a very interesting kick starter plot. He was even told on the fact that his brother died and that he might hurry back to offer his respects in time (plot twist he never did) but it is also different from source to source! Hehe but yes Proteus basically spilling the beans! XD

Yeah calling it a "dream" is like I guess a bit far fetched but one can also say it was "a vision" or something. Either way it seems to be vague enough at times for people to not have all information but barely enough to go by. And it is Menelaus's stay in Egypt that is elongated too that might add to the vagueness. Given how he later traveled back to his homeland (at least the version of the story that Euripides takes for his own play as well although of course Homer doesn't FULLY elaborate on the fact) to get to offer his respects to his brother's tomb before coming back to Sparta. At that time in-between his return many things in theory could have changed or mentioned. Oftentimes of course you need to consider information as plot devices. Menelaus is not revealing it to us because the information was insegnificant before or because Menelaus was inconsiderate. It is offered to us now because the trip of Telemachus was important to the plot (I had made a small analysis in the past) and we are only in the Odyssey just now. The viewer has heard before on Odysseus being trapped and wishing his return so now we have the confirmation so the listeners can hear it again. In one way it is like "for those who arrived just now to my performance, here is where Odysseus is, we'll get back to him later" Of course from modern point of view who is used to go to the cinema and watch one film this seems obsurd and one can say "why couldn't you just say so?" but if you think of it as a moving performance outside where people gathered up to listen to someone and more and more get added up in one way we can see why it is repeated there. In this way both Telemachus gets the important plot device to go to Sparta and get information on the war and the horse etc which the viewer gets but also pitches in more people and tuns them in the plot.

Hhahaha no problem at all I definitely see where you come from. Ancient Greek texts in general and Homer in particular are very expressive. But honestly I do not see it THAT much different let's say than Dreamworks Sinbad when Sinbad gets emotional and says to Marina "we dreamt to join the navy together and defend our country together!" like I see it as a very strong feeling of closure but I definitely understand where you come from and many people who make that joke! Hehehe it is always a shock to discover ancient texts isn't it?

Yeah he did hehehe and arguably he never was the sharpest knife in the box either but for sure the whole thing was already overwhealming enough especially the way that his life was settled up (Menelaus and his brother were even exiled because of Aeguisthus and they were struggling to get their kingdom back then the whole Helen business happened and they went away from home at a war for a decade and then they quarreled and the last thing they said to each other before separation was undoubtedly cruel words and then he found out the tragedy and all. The dude didn't have much slack either hahahaha)

Hahahahahahahahaha right?! Lol

You are right that is definitely a logical assumption but of course one could say that one vague piece of information is equally harmful because it increases the agony without easing much the information. Menelaus heard from Proteus he was prisoner before. Was he still prisoner? In one essence the family also had the prophecy that Odysseus would come back in 20 years (which was also what frightened Odysseus and tried to avoid the war altogether) so in one way the family HAD something to go by. Just set the clock to 20 years and he will be back! Hahaha the thing is again the vagueness of prophecies or information didn't help much either. For starters "20 years" is also a phrase that simply could mean "way too long" so people didn't know and even if they did after so long they lost hope. Even if it WAS predicted for Odysseus to be back eventually they just lost all hope regardless of the prophecy so a vague piece of information wouldn't help either. They held hope for 7 extra years after the end of the war was reported. When Menelaus finally got home after 7 years as well that roused suspicion that Odysseus wouldn't come back and if the prophecy was still in to be fulfilled then they assumed that "20 years" simply meant "too long" and that if he came back after way too long he would be useless as a king anyways because of his age. Or rather what if the "he will come back after 20 years" meant as a corpse? Hard to tell hahahaha but when Telemachus called upon the council and the new prophecy came that Odysseus would return, still didn't do much good either. Telemachus was still not perfectly convinced, Penelope was as depressed as ever and the suitors didn't pay attention to the prophet.

As for Telemachus not kicking them out sooner that is not possible for many reasons. One he was not of age of maturity yet (Odysseus left an order to Penelope to rule in his place until his son grew a beard and then he would rule back), two even if he had started his quest sooner that wouldn't have changed anything for Odysseus still would come back after the 20 years were done. In fact the plot was set so nicely thick that the trip of Telemachus happens at the same amount of time that Odysseus tells his story and comes back to Ithaca so when Telemachus comes back, he finds his father waiting and the two of them join forces to get the suitors out of the palace. Telemachus arguably didn't need to leave that specific time out of the palace because Menelaus didn't grace them with a warning sooner but because it was time for Odysseus to return and Telemachus would meet his father away from the palace in a quiet place AFTER he too had explored around. In one way Telemachus having heard the random piece of information that at some point his father was prisoner in one place wouldn't change that plot.

Telemachus for once needed confirmation that Odysseus was his true father and he needed to hear more than just that. Otherwise they had the vague prophecy of his return to go by. He needed to escape from the toxic environment of his home while being removed from danger and the trap of the suitors AND at the same Time Odysseus was set to return home. Homer could easily have made Telemachus say that "I heard once upon a time a friend of my father's saying that he is trapped somewhere" but the atmosphere wouldn't massively change. The songs the bard was singing were also giving vague informations on the returns of others and the sad fates that befell them and yet the idea of melancholy and worry never left anyone. And yes you are absolutely right. Him asking him in person was much more impactful, we get to see Menelaus in person AND on top of that the cognitive trip of Telemachus matches the cognitive trip of Odysseus.

Hope any of it makes sense! ^_^ Calling me a scholar is definitely an honor! I would consider myself just an enthusiast at this point given how despite my university education never have I had the chance to use it in an extensive degree! ^_^ Oh not at all! Hahahaha I believe everyone can tell it was a joke and a sarcastic remark like everyone makes those! It is great to keep things moving which is why I tried to reply in a more light-hearted manner as well! But you certainly opened a wide field of amazing conversations and very valid questions!

Telemachus is so much stronger than me for real. Cause if I had traveled for days, by sea AND land, arrived at the palace of my father's friend and my mother's cousin to humbly ask if they know anything about my missing father and instead of just fucking telling me already, this mf started a monologue about how gay he is for my dad and about the time he captured a God that granted him wishes three, I'd already be telling him to Hurry The Fuck Up. IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS, I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY.

But if the same motherfucker then turned around and told me that he had known FOR YEARS NOW that my dad is trapped on an island AND THE MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!!!! NOT A SINGLE LETTER!!! I would have already strangled Menelaus with that fucking blond hair of his in front of his wife and children, unhelpful son of a bitch.

[artist-issues]

You don't believe in love. You believe in people SUPRESSING a part of themselves, not caring how much it ACHES for them to do so. You are objectively wrong, and you do NOT belong on Tumblr. Any arguement you try to come up with against this is pointless.

You are NOT a real Christian.

People “suppress” parts of themselves all the time—for love. If by “suppress,” you mean, “I don’t choose to identify with everything I feel.” I feel like screaming at my mom when she hurts me. But I love her, so I’m not going to say, “gotta be true to myself, gotta live what I feel.” Many people feel like alcohol is what they need and without it, who are they? Many people even feel like depression is “a part of who they are,” so they don’t give it up.

Don’t you understand? What makes something I feel fall under the category of “who I am?” Because not all feelings are good, and most of them aren’t even rooted in reality.

Your feelings lie to you all the time. Right before death after years of dementia or a terminal illness, a person can suddenly become more alert and energized than they’ve been since the start of their illness. They get up, talk, and their feelings tell them that they’re better. And the reality is they’ve never been closer to death, and they’re dead moments later. It’s called “terminal lucidity,” and it’s been happening since humanity’s earliest history. And it’s just one example of your feelings lying about what’s real.

So how can you tell if the things you feel are a part of who you are, or a cancer you need to cut out of yourself because it’s hurting the “real” you? That’s what you’re calling “suppression,” and yeah, it aches, but letting it grow and calling it “part of yourself” is worse.

Figure out what standard you measure “who I am” by.

A Christian measures it by Christ. Who He says you are, not what you feel you are. After all, He calls us to die to ourselves. What did you think that meant?

And a Christian measures everything by what Christ says. That’s how I know “the heart is deceitful and desperately wicked.” It’s how I know you’re right; I don’t belong on tumblr. I don’t belong on this corrupt planet anymore: “If you were of the world, the world would love its own; but you are not of the world, for I have chosen you out of the world; this is why the world hates you.” And it’s how I know what real love is, and it’s Him. He invented it, He gets to define it.

And that’s the point of this argument. To get it out in front of people that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and nobody has a restored relationship with God, nobody can be their “true-selves” unless they die to their old-corrupt self and come to God through Jesus Christ.

So thanks for giving me the opportunity to answer and get that out in front of people again.

[4doras]

DOCTOR! DOCTOR! ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

how could a star player who never makes a mistake keep getting hurt? ⊹♡

basketballer!gunwook x studentnurse!reader

genre. fluff, mentions of getting hurt

wc. 1.4k

a/n. doctor doctor is stuck in my head and i’ve been wanting to make a gunwook fic, so it’s perfect timing ^_^

everyone knew park gunwook — gunwook, the star player of the school’s basketball team, gunwook, the guy who never missed a shot, gunwook, who wouldn’t miss a game for the world. he loved basketball, and everyone loved him, everyone except you.

you didn’t hate him per se, but you wouldn’t seem to find the hype around him. of course, you could agree if people spoke about his looks, but his personality? he wasn’t anything special.

more under the cut!

gunwook was flawless on the court with his precision and skill. no one could ever remember a time when he made a mistake, but lately, something odd had started. ever since you became the nurse at the clinic, gunwook had been getting injured more than usual. it was as if every time he played, he’d somehow end up with a bruise or a twisted ankle, always finding his way to you to get treated.

you couldn’t understand why he; who was so perfect, kept making these mistakes on the court. due to your slight dislike of him, you tried to keep your distance, but with each injury, you ended up seeing him more. and though you didn’t want to admit it, a small part of you wondered if it was more than just bad luck.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

“y/n?” a voice echoed through your silent office, “could you bring your kit and come to the court? gunwook got hit in the head.” you recognised the boy as one of gunwook’s friends, another basketball player. “alright, i’ll be right there.” you kept your composure light and smiley, but you couldn’t think of a way how gunwook, someone who was also known to have good agility, could’ve been hit in the head hard enough to need someone to care for him.

you weren’t in any rush to go over, not like the other players were, but when you noticed him rubbing his head, you figured that you might as well check, turning your slow walk into a paced jog.

as you made your way over, you noticed his friends were acting a bit… strange. they weren’t laughing or making jokes, but there was a weird energy between them — glances exchanged, suppressed smiles, like they were all in on something. gunwook wasn’t in much pain, just a bit shaken, but his friends were acting like everything was perfectly normal, almost too normal, considering the situation. you couldn’t put your finger on it, but the way they behaved around gunwook left you feeling a little suspicious. they weren't concerned, not in the way you'd expect after an impact like that, making you wonder if they were up to something.

you crouched by him, holding him up so he’d sit up properly, had he been laying down flat before. “does it hurt here?” you gently put pressure on his forehead, unsure of where he got hit. “a little,” his voice carried a hint of discomfort, “it’s kinda like… here.” he took your hand off of his forehead, bringing it to the side of his head. “tell me when it hurts.” you gradually applied more and more pressure on the area, promptly hearing a wince. “i think you’ll be okay, just be careful. follow me, i’ll get you some ice.” you got back up, extending your hand toward him, offering him help to get back on his feet.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

he sat in front of you, waiting for whatever help you could give. once you looked at gunwook closer, you noticed a few scratches on his hands and a small cut on his forehead. it wasn’t serious, but you still reached for some ointment and a plaster to tend to the wounds. carefully applying it to his forehead, you found herself realizing gunwook looked a lot cuter up close than you ever really paid attention to before. his features were soft, and even with the small scrapes, there was something about him that made him seem a bit more attractive than she’d expected. you quickly pushed the thought aside, focusing on helping him rather than letting her mind wander.

you couldn’t be thinking like this — about gunwook, or anything else that made your heart flutter a little, but it was hard. it didn’t make sense. you knew he wouldn’t like you back, and that was fine. you didn't think less of yourself, but the truth was clear: there were so many other girls that were prettier and ‘more his type’ who thought of him the same way too. you had no reason to dwell on these feelings, especially when it wouldn’t lead anywhere. you couldn’t let herself get caught up in something pointless.

“focus, y/n. don’t daydream, your patient is hurt!” he whined, playing a small pout on his lips. “i’m not… i’m just a bit tired.” you hoped your lie was strategic enough, but acting wasn’t your major. he could see straight through you. “hm,” he cooed, “tired of what?” gunwook tilted his head to the side in mild confusion, the corner of his lips curled up into a playful smile as he looked at you. it was almost as if he knew that you weren’t telling the truth and was waiting for you to explain. “tired of you always coming here. i thought you were the best player, how come you keep ending up hurt?”

gunwook couldn’t help but giggle, seeing how clueless you were. you had no idea how obvious his feelings were. it was like a secret game to him, watching you so unaware of how much he liked you, despite him constantly creating a reason to find you.

gunwook knew exactly what he was doing when he’d fake an injury during basketball practice. it wasn’t that he actually got hurt, but he’d always manage to ‘slip’ or ‘twist’ something just enough to need attention. but the real reason? he loved having your attention on him. he’d sit there, trying to hide his grin, pretending to be in pain just to have you close. it wasn’t that he wanted to get hurt, but the way you cared for him made his heart race, and the excuse to see you — even for just a moment — was worth it every time.

“you’re seriously blind, huh?” he folded his arms, an irritating smirk on his lips. “i like you, silly. i’ve only been getting hurt because i wanna see you, and it wasn’t even that big of an issue… to me, at least.” gunwook couldn’t help but smile, his eyes lit up with a quiet confidence, as if the words he just said were exactly what he’d been waiting to say for a long time.

“what?” you couldn’t find the right words. you wanted to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn’t come out. every time you opened your mouth, it felt like they got stuck somewhere in your throat, tangled. the more he came to your office, it became more obvious to you that you liked him. you knew that much — maybe more than you even realized; but trying to put it into words felt impossible. it wasn’t that you were unsure of your feelings, it was just that every time you looked at him, all you could think about was how much you wanted him to know, but not knowing how to say it.

“i’m not joking, y/n. why do you think i’d keep coming here for something so small, like a cut? i could take care of that at home. i come here because i like you, because i want to see you.” gunwook looked at you, his eyes held an honesty that was impossible to miss, as if everything he was feeling was laid bare in that quiet, unwavering gaze.

“please, give me a chance, y/n.” you couldn’t say no to him, his eyes were basically kneeling in front of you, pleading for you to say yes. “you’re so desperate, it really doesn’t fit your look.” you giggled. you couldn’t believe the park gunwook was on his knees for you. “is that a no?” he said, in a much, much sadder voice. “i didn’t say it was.” you couldn’t help but laugh at his face. “i like you too, gunwook. but you better stop getting hurt for me.” you crossed your arms, pretending to look annoyed, but the playful smirk tugging at your lips betrayed you.

“i promise i’ll stop,” he put his pinky out, “and i’ll win every game for you.” his smile grew bigger. you locked your pinky with his, and pressed your thumbs together. “you better.”

[bbyg4rl]

i'm your JJ ✧

cw: JJ x Kie's sister!reader, fluff, slight allusion to sex, happy ending !

summary: JJ cant avoid his feelings for his friend's sister anymore. inspired by this request.

a/n: this lowkey so cute thanks i started kicking my legs while writing LMAO hope this is what u expected anon <3

You were just grabbing a glass of juice and making your way back to your room when your sister, Kie, stormed into your room behind you.

"I'm having JJ over tonight. Don't come out of your room."

"It's my house too. I'll come out if I want to" you shot back.

"Just don't, okay? you're annoying enough as it is" she replied, rolling her eyes as she walked out.

time jump

you buried yourself in your pillows trying your best to drown out the sound of the movie playing downstairs. you could faintly hear your sister make excuses to JJ about why you weren't hanging out with them, claiming you "weren't feeling well". The lie made you want to storm down and snap at her, but every time you reached for the door handle, Kie's words struck you like an alarm clock, the words froze you for a reason you couldn't quite discern and sent you back to your bed where you resumed trying to muffle the sounds of the tv.

suddenly, there was a knock at your bedroom door, you half-expected Kie to be on the other side, ready to take more shots at you but you were surprised to see JJ, he softly opened the door, searching for your face in the messy room. As soon as he spotted you, he rushed over and sat on your bedside, his hands gently reaching for your face.

"Hey, mama. how you feelin'?"

"Shouldn't you be downstairs with Kie?" you replied sarcastically.

"Don't answer my question with another question y/n. besides, your sister can handle herself for a little while. I'm here to check up on you, babycakes" he said, smiling at you as his hands combed through your hair.

You couldn’t help but smile at the nickname. "Thanks for checking up on me, JJ, but I’m fine. I just wanted to stay in my room today" you replied softly.

You didn't quite understand why you were covering for Kie. Maybe a little part of you felt guilty for feeling what you felt for JJ, especially since you knew Kie had a thing for him. She made it painfully clear, dropping hint after hint, but somehow, JJ seemed oblivious. His attention never strayed toward her. His eyes were always on you, never missing an opportunity to admire you, darting to you every time a joke left his lips.

Your train of thought was interrupted by JJ's calloused hand stroking your cheek.

"You're not really a 'stay in' kind of a person, mama. Tell me what's wrong, you know you can tell me anything. I'm your JJ"

You shot him a wry smile, "You're cute, JJ"

"You're just stating the obvious, baby" he quipped, flashing one of those smirks that always made your stomach flip.

"Why do you even wanna know what's wrong? You want me or something?" you teased.

"You have no idea how much I want you" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" Your eyes widened. Did he just say he wants you?

"Just come on down, babycakes" he said, cutting off any chance for a reply as he slipped his hands under you, lifting you bridal style. Before you knew it, he was carrying you downstairs.

You felt Kie's eyes boring holes into your back as JJ placed you on the couch beside Kie, pulling a blanket over you and settling in beside you. Your heart raced, waiting for an outburst to tear its way through your sister, knowing how much this must be killing her.

The three of you quietly settled in to watch the movie. That is, until you noticed JJ’s hand slowly inching closer to yours, eventually resting on top of it, his thumb occasionally swiping across the back of your hand.

As the movie went on, your mind wandered, You couldn’t help but notice how close JJ really was to you, his hand on top of yours, his knee brushing yours, his shark tooth necklace rising up and down on his chest with every breath he took.

An idea popped into your head, The movie wasn’t all that interesting anyway, it wouldn't hurt to spice it up now, would it?

you slipped your hand from under his and scooted closer, thigh pressing against as his. His breath hitched as you adjusted your blanket to cover his legs before resting your hand on his thigh, dangerously close to the growing tent in his shorts.

"Y/n" he whispered, voice strained, not daring to look at you.

"Hm?" you responded feigning innocence, as you moved your hand higher before abruptly pulling it away and standing up.

"I'm gonna get more popcorn" you declared, only then noticing that Kie had fallen asleep in her spot.

Grinning to yourself, you made your way to the kitchen, thoughts of JJ swirling in your mind. You were rummaging through the cabinets when you heard JJ’s heavy breathing behind you.

"What was that, Y/n"

"What was what?"

"You know what I'm talkin' about, mama." he growled, his tone low and agitated as his hand snaked around your waist pulling you into him.

"Don't do that again " he murmured, pressing a small kiss to your hair before walking back to the living room.

Your face flushed as you stood there, stunned. The difference between the JJ who had come to your room earlier and the man that had just pulled your ass into him excited you. He wasn't usually this bold with you, but lately his resolve seemed to be breaking and his control was faltering, his obsession with you becoming harder for him to hide. Not that it was ever really hidden.

Finally, you found the popcorn and returned to the living room. The rest of the night passed in relative silence, with only quiet glances exchanged between you and JJ.

When it was time for him to leave, he shot you a smirk and gave Kie a quick side hug before heading out the door. You made your way to your room and flopped onto your bed, only to hear a knock on your window moments later.

It was JJ, with a shit eating grin plastered to his face. You opened the window to let him in.

"JJ? I thought you left-"

Before you could finish, his lips were on yours.

Pulling away slightly, he looked into your eyes. "I couldn't leave without kissing you, I can't pretend no more, baby. I need you"

You smiled, pulling him back in for another kiss. You’d been waiting for this moment for so long. He slowly led you to your bed, laying you on your back as he climbed on top, his hands rested on your sides, as he deepened the kiss, his knee between your legs, teasing you.

You cupped his face, pulling it back to look at him. "What am I gonna tell Kie?"

"Tell her I’m your JJ."

check out my other works ! masterlist

[foldingfittedsheets]

I been feeling sad lately.

I keep thinking about a friend who was close to me that ghosted me and block me.

I keep thinking it my fault. But I did nothing wrong. We would rp. Idk if I got to boring. Maybe I didn't make the rp work.

Idk what to think.

It been a year but it well be 2 year this coming mouth.

So my friend Betty from the funny stories? She ghosted me. There were living circumstance stressors but suddenly the person I was so close with was just gone and I didn’t fully understand why. She didn’t communicate.

And even now, years later, it hurts. I have dreams about her sometimes. But ultimately, she made the choice not to communicate. She chose not to work through whatever was going on, and I’d rather have people in my life that want to be in my life than someone who will cut and run.

So it gets easier to deal with losing friends that way, but it’s like any other kind of grief, it’s never really gone.

[sirxlla]

Such an Integral Piece

----------------‐-------------------------------

Warnings: Fluff

Prompt: introducing your cat to Dick's dog Haley (request: @runnergirl234 also I love this idea it's the cutest thing ever and I hope you also have a great day)

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

The idea of you both moving in together was obvious, most nights one of your guys's apartments was empty because you would sleep over with the other person. It wasn't entirely ideal because of the animals but both of you didn't want to move too quickly in your relationships. That was nearly a year ago before you knew he was Nightwing.

Now Richard was staying at whatever apartment was closest after patrol and unfortunately that meant it was usually his. Sleeping in an empty bed just felt wrong at this point.

"Why don't you just move in? You shouldn't have to drive so far after a long day of work, I know the traffic in the city is not great around this time. I mean it's never great." Dick rubbed your back as you both laid in bed together.

"You're sure?" You asked as you played with his silky soft fluffy hair.

"I mean it would help me keep an eye on you but if you don't want to I entirely understand, I don't want to pressure you into anything." He leaned into your soft touches, closing his eyes with a groan.

"I mean I've been meaning to get away from the other job for a while anyways, If we can figure something out I wouldn't mind moving." Absentmindedly staring at the ceiling in the almost pitch black room.

"You mean that weirdo, David? Is he still coming around?" He asks about the weirdo that used to work at your job that kept stalking you.

"No, I think you scared I'm off but I'm really tired of looking over my shoulder and hoping that he's not there."

"I can find you a job pretty easily I mean hell you could probably work with me if you wanted."

"Isn't that like conflict of interest?"

"Not if we are actually working."

"I'd be down." Haley jumping on the bed to curl into your side.

"Then you're moving in." Cuddling into your chest, his face squished against your boobs.

"I am moving in" You smiled as sleep started taking you.

It was a bit of a process going through everything that you had acquired over time. You had that apartment since you were 18 so there was a lot to go through. It took about a week but you were getting everything settled and moved into Dick's place.

Once everything was in it's rightful place at his apartment the last but most important piece was your cat Frodo. Frodo is very affectionate and loving.

"Oh, God. I'm nervous."

"It's okay, Honey. Haley's got her mask on and I've got a hold of her." He's almost 100% sure she won't do anything to her but he wants to be sure.

"Well, here goes nothing." You brought Frodo's carry case over to Haley to let her sniff him. Frodo started hissing as Haley got super excited and playful which prompted Dick to make her sit.

"Be gentle Haley." He said to the sweet pitbull that listenss to every word that came out of his mouth.

"I guess we'll just have to give them time." You stated to Dick. After about 20 minutes of him in the crate you decided to let him out. Dick told Haley to come sit on the couch with him and she very quickly listened being such a well-trained dog. Once everyone calm down they seemed to as well.

The three of you saw on the couch and watched a movie while Frodo decided to go explore the house. After about an hour Frodo came back and surprisingly curled up next to Haley. You were half asleep against chest so you didn't notice but he sure did, he took a photo and posted it on Snapchat with the caption "my little family" which was a photo of you laying on his chest and the animals cuddling together. This was all that he hoped for when he was so happy that everybody was getting along.

[gracie-eilish]

Take me out, and take me home…

an: this is kinda long!! but here is my official fic based on Lover by Taylor Swift:) any blue text is Billie’s dialogue and any pink is readers. I hope you enjoy this one!! seven and Guilty as Sin are both coming soon. Peachy (pt. 2) is also going to be on the way! i wasn’t originally expecting you guys to want a part two so i’ll get writing!! 🥰✨🍑

warnings: intoxication mentioned, slight nudity but no smut, so much fucking fluff it’s like a unicorn threw up cotton candy in here.

alsoooo thank you also for over a hundred followers! that’s so many beautiful besties!! i’ve loved writing about billie and chatting with so many of you over the last few weeks and i can’t wait for more!! love ya💋

🩷🥂🫧💋✨

“Take me homeeeee” You slurred, stumbling out of the party you and Billie had just attended. Billie had an arm slung around your waist while you had an arm around her shoulders.

“We’re going home baby, I promise,” Billie replied with a giggle at your disheveled state. Even drunk as can be, she found you so beautiful. Your rosy cheeks even rosier, your big wide eyes now hooded and hazy and full of love, and the sleepy smile plastered on your face made her just wanna kiss it right off of you.

“Heyy babyyyyy? I have.. a very important question for… you.” You looked back up at her stoically, booping her nose as you said “you.” Billie planted a kiss to your temple to try to hide her giggle.

“What baby?” She quickly bent down to grab your waist again as you stumbled backward, making you burst into the most melodic sounding giggles.

“I’m your baby right?” This sent Billie into a laughing fit. The attempt at a serious look on your face combined with the cutest little question, she couldn’t help it.

She pressed kisses to your cheek and temple in between declarations, “My baby, *kiss* my princess, *kiss* my girl, *kiss* my angel, *kiss* my magical unicorn angel baby princess,” she added the last one with a giggle. That was your little nickname for anyone in your life who meant something to you. Your best friends, Billie of course, your little cat. And it never failed to make Billie laugh when she heard it.

“Why do you ask my love?” She questioned after your giggles calmed down again.

“Because I’m like… soooo many things right? But I don’t have a thing for you, you know? Like I need a thing for you. And I was thinking so hard in my brain tonight and I think I figured it out.” You stated matter of factly.

Billie just nodded for you to continue, holding you up a little tighter, and pushing some hair out of your face.

“You, Billie girl, are my-“ You got cut off by Billie’s phone dinging, signaling her driver was here. Without rudely interrupting you, Billie carefully walked you both over to the car, and carefully guided you into the back seat before scooching in herself.

“You warm and cozy mama?” Billie asked, fiddling with the heater in the back, kissing your forehead after you nodded in confirmation.

The ride back home was quiet, a stark contrast to the buzz of the club you two were just in, as well as to your own drunk ramblings. Some people liked to run when drunk, others call exes, and others just fall asleep. Not you. You were always a bundle of energy, ready to chit chat with anyone who would listen, and Billie found it adorable, never once silencing your tipsy rambles even as you both tried to fall asleep at 4am.

“Billie?”

“Yeah baby?”

“I feel like… I feel like I’ve known you for like.. twenty years. But also that’s like not possible. I’ve only known you for real, for like twenty seconds.”

Billie chuckled at your statement. Another little thing you did after drinking, was greatly exaggerate time. For example, if it was the middle of November and someone complained about you still having Halloween decorations up, you’d gasp in shock saying Halloween was “literally like 20 minutes ago.” You two had been dating for about three years now, so Billie just chuckled understanding twenty seconds was three years in your own little drunken time zone tonight.

“Twenty years is a long time baby,” she replied softly, pulling you in closer to her side, letting you rest your head on her shoulder.

“It’s like such a long time. *sigh* Can we still be this close in twenty years?”

This sent both of you into giggles. Billie couldn’t help herself anymore, smothering you in kisses, each one accompanied by a little “mwah!”

“Baby once I get a ring on that finger, we will be this close for a lot longer than twenty years hun.” She pushed some hair behind your ear, watching your cheeky flush under her gaze.

“For ever and ever, you’re my-“

Your conversation faltered again as you pulled up in front of your place. Billie thanked the driver and helped you out of the car before guiding you up to your apartment. Not without few stumbles and bumps along the way.

You were starting to feel a little sleepy but Billie knew you’d get a second wind once you got inside, but she still got butterflies when she felt you wrap your arms around her from behind and rest your cheek on her shoulder as she unlocked the door.

Billie almost jumped out of her skin as you gasped dramatically at something, scaring the shit out of her.

“Baby!” You had your hands on your cheeks in shock, looking back at her as she locked the door behind her.

“We left the Christmas lights up!” You paused before turning back to face the lights. “Until January!”

“Is that a bad thing?” Billie was so confused but went along with it.

“Isn’t that like… against the rules? Christmas was like a million days ago!”

“This is our place, we make the rules.” Your eyes shined up at Billie like she just revealed the meaning to life.

“Oh. My. God. You’re so fucking right babe.”

Billie chuckled and kissed your temple before guiding you to the kitchen and sitting you down on a stool as she got you some water and a small snack.

“Drink up lovie, I don’t want your pretty little head hurting tomorrow.”

As you sipped your water and nibbled on some snacks Billie went into your shared bedroom to get you some pjs and start the shower.

Billie ran her hand under the water to check the temperature before stopping, hearing such a sound come from the kitchen. She dried off her hand before tip toeing back to the kitchen to find the source of the.. sound? song? cry?

“You’re my my my myyyyyyyyyy,” it was you. And your second wind Billie had predicted. You were spinning around on stool singing.. well singing something, only stopping when you caught sight of Billie.

“Babyyyyyy!!! You came back!” You cried out with a huge smile and your hands out, wiggling your fingers as if it would magically will her closer to you. And to your knowledge, it did magically will her closer as she wrapped her own arms around you, kissing the top of your head a few times, chuckling softly.

“I finished my snack and my water. I’m so good at that.” Billie chuckled and simply placed her forehead onto the top of your head.

“You’re killing me here babe.” She said, lifting her head back up and pushing the hair out of your face. You just shrugged nonchalantly before puckering your lips dramatically. Billie smiled adoringly before leaning in and giving you a soft almost angelic kiss, squishing your cheeks a bit too.

“Alright tipsy girl, you wanna go shower and get comfy?” She said holding your shoulders while you nodded. She could tell you were starting to get sleepy, but she knows you’d be grumpy in the morning if you hadn’t showered and you were hungover.

As she guided you into the bathroom, you were humming that little song again, Billie has never heard it before.

“That’s a pretty song your singing there lovie.” She said, helping you out of your clothes.

“Thank you. I’m writing it myself. Right now.”

“Oh really? You wanna sing some more of it for me?”

“Mmm maybe when I’m in the shower. I need to write more words first.” Billie nodded, holding back a laugh.

“Of course, of course. How could I rush such art?” She replied. “Do you want me to come in with you? Need help?”

You gasped and softly nudged her shoulder, “Billie! That’s dirty!” Billie kissed your cheek softly, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Baby it’s not dirty. We had sex in there this morning.” Your jaw dropped and face flushed at Billie’s statement. Your drunk brain not seeming to remember that right now.

“Oh my gosh Billie. You have to promise not to say things like that in front of other people.” You drunkenly pleaded, face totally flushed.

“I promise mama. I save my dirty jokes only for you.” She said with a wink, making you sigh in relief.

“Oh thank god.” Eventually you did in fact pull Billie in there with you. You claimed you didn’t need any help, but you couldn’t deny Billie’s fingers massaging the shampoo into your scalp was heavenly. The rose smell of your shampoo mixed with Billie’s woodsy vanilla body wash she used on you wrapped around you almost as tight as Billie’s arms, making your eyes droopy as you rested your head in the crook of her neck, leaning back into her and she pressed tiny kisses to your own shoulder. Her hands slowly roaming around your body, over your stomach, up to your boobs, a squeeze to your hips, a couple more squeezes on your shoulders and back to your stomach where her arms wrapped tightly, and contentedly.

“You ready for bed angel?” She whispered into your ear, hands giving your hips another squeeze. You just nodded sleepily turning around in her arms to give her a proper hug.

“Thank you by the way,” Your words a bit more steady now as you slowly sobered up.

“For what baby?”

“For saving me a seat at the table tonight. Since I got stuck in traffic. I was nervous everyone else would wanna sit next to you,” You said it so small and sweetly that Billie felt her heart grow ten sizes, knowing that at every table, she’d save you a seat for the rest of her life.

“Oh babygirl,” she cooed, cradling your head closer into her as she hugged you tighter.

She gave you one last kiss to the top of your head before shutting off the water. She stepped out and grabbed your towels out of the little towel warmer and wrapped herself in one quickly, before heading back to you. She shut the shower door again to keep the warm air in as she carefully dried you off a bit before wrapping you in the fluffy towel, with a kiss to your nose.

A comfortable silence filled the room as the two of you got ready for bed. Well really, Billie got ready for bed and then helped you do the same thing. You giggled at her focused face as she carefully dabbed moisturizer to your skin, only silencing your giggles with a kiss making both of you smile.

She had her own giggles watching your droopy eyes fight to stay open as Billie dried your hair with a towel. You absolutely melted into a puddle anytime Billie had her fingers in your hair, so her fingers mixed with a warm fluffy towel was sending you to dreamland.

When she finished, Billie helped you off the counter and gave your butt a little pat as she guided you back to your connected bedroom, shutting off the bathroom light. The two of you changed into some pjs, Billie giggled while helping you with the buttons after you whined not being able to do it right now.

“I can’t see sometimes.” You grumbled as she buttoned them with ease.

“You can’t see sometimes??” Billie asked, raising an eyebrow and biting back a smile.

“Ugh you know what I mean.” You groaned, playfully smacking her hand away once she finished.

After making sure you could get on the bed, Billie quickly went around the apartment, shutting off the lights, making sure your pets were okay, and locking the doors before returning and shutting the bedroom door behind you.

She slipped under the covers, pulling you closer to her, letting you snuggle yourself into her side like a little kitten. Once she was sure you were practically purring like one as well, Billie settled into her own pillow, letting her arm rest on your back.

“Did you write more of your song while you were in the shower?” She asked, squeezing your side quickly.

“Oh my gosh, baby I did and I forgot to tell you.” But it came out more slurred, your eyes were closed and Billie knew it would be minutes before you were fast asleep.

“That’s okay baby. You can tell me now. Sing us to sleep mama,” She whispered, kissing your cheek before settling back in your hold.

“Wait I forgot how it goes.” You were still a little drunk after all. Billie giggled trying to remember your ramblings from earlier in the night.

“I think I remember.. You kept saying “You’re my -“ and then you didn’t finish that bit. And then you were singing it in the kitchen,” Billie opened her eyes to look down at you, you seemed to be asleep at this point, but the slight furrow in your brows told her you were thinking about your little song, so she continued, whispering,

“You’re my, my, my, my….”

“Oh!! You’re my, my, my, my…” you trailed off again.

“Darling, you’re my, my, my, my…”

“Lover.”