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so-much-for-the-seashells · 6 months ago

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The Strawberry, The Sheriff, and the Cartel Sheriff Beau Arlen (Big Sky) x PI!Reader

Chapter One: Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!

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~Before we Begin~

A/N: this is part one of an ongoing series. If you like the story and would like to be part of a tag list: please let me know, either through dm or comments. Still looking for a beta reader, dm if interested! :) Icons are by me! As always, any and all interaction is appreciated!

I really love Big Sky, even for all its faults. And to be honest, I was genuinely hoping for a season four. Since we aren’t getting that, I’m writing this. I’m no expert on PI/Detective work, but I’m doing my best. This is a work of fiction after all.

Anyway, I don’t want to spoil anything, so I’m not going to give any background and let the story speaks for itself. :)

Content/Content Warning: Nothing too crazy yet, but I’d rather a 16+ audience on this series for what might happen later. References to drugs and kidnapping. Cursing. Canon typical violence will occur.

~Without further ado, Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!~

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Who commits real crimes in Montana, anyway? I guess I’d always figured that there wasn’t enough of us to do so in the first place. But, as it turns out, no place is too small for shitty people. Go figure.

Part of me has always hoped for a big case. Something high stakes, something that might actually make me think. I had always been resigned to the throes of missing pets and cheating partners. Maybe a B&E or a purse-snatching here and there to spice things up. Sure, those are still crimes, but a kidnapping tied to a cartel?

Now we’re talking.

Wait. That sounds bad. Of course I feel bad for the victims, I’m not a jackass. It’s just that this is where things in my career finally get interesting. Where if I solve the case, I’m solving something bigger than Whitefish. Which would really make me feel better about myself, if I’m being honest. I don’t really feel like I’ve made a difference with any the cases I’ve solved. Sure, it’s good to see Mary-Jane get her cat back or tell Kathy-Lee that James was in fact cheating on her and seeing her so liberated after breaking up with him. But none of that is bigger than Whitefish, where I’ve been since I was born. I needed something important, something big.

And this certainly is that something big.

Something big enough that I’ve had to travel almost seven hours from my hometown to Big Sky. Bertha, my truck, needed to get out of the house anyway. But seven hours… damn. Especially considering Whitefish could be renamed ‘Small Town’- I don’t think I’d had driven more than two hours till then.

Something big enough that literal drug cartels were involved.

No one would expect Montana to have so many ties to cartels. It’s so random, right? I mean, who even thinks about Montana in the first place aside from hikers and outdoorsy people? I know I wouldn’t if I didn’t live here. But I guess that’s the draw for these weird mob families. There’s not much of a radar to be on up here.

Big Sky had barely cleared out the Bhullar family maybe six months ago. A friend of mine, a fellow PI named Cassie Dewell, had told me all about it. She had been involved; her friend Undersheriff Jenny Hoyt had been one of the major players in taking them down. But in the end, as I understood it, the family had more or less taken themselves down. Serves them right.

But when one pot empties you’ve got to fill it with something new, I guess. That’s where I come in.

See, I’m a PI because I couldn’t be bothered with the how rule-abiding proper detectives have to be. Rules don’t get things done in the justice system, in my opinion. I’ve seen too many people either go down or get off when they shouldn’t because of it.

Rules are good guidelines, but just that- guidelines. Something to guide you, but not something that’s always right. If you want to get things done, you need a little more independence.

But with that independence comes cases that folks in the Sheriff’s Department wouldn’t even have come across their desks. Like the cheating, or the missing pets. So be it: I get paid more; and anyway, sometimes the “dumb” stuff is what’s best to get you ready for the “good” stuff.

María Almería had been the one to reach out to me. Her and Felix, her husband; as well as her three kids, Anna, Josue and Carolina; are neighbors of mine. They’re good people, and I’m pretty close with the family. I like them a lot, from the parents to the kids.

Usually I get hunches about people- its why I’m good at my job. When Kathy-Lee asked me to investigate her husband, I could’ve told her off the bat that he was cheating. Not because I’d explicitly seen him, but for whatever reason I could read it on him. It’s like a sixth sense.

That sense must’ve been dormant every time I went to the Almerías’, though, because I had never once gotten a bad vibe about Felix. María’s husband was always kind, a good father- his kids would attest to that, a good husband- María never once had anything bad to say about him, and he actually carried his weight around the house. Cleaned dishes, did laundry… yes, the bar is low, but he is certainly better than most of the fish in the world’s hellhole of a sea. Not to mention that he was always genuine: never a bad word about anyone or anything, not even about cockroaches (those damned things are my mortal enemy). And you could see that genuineness his eyes, which are usually what gives someone’s story away if you know how to look at them.

Honestly, he was the last person I was expecting to go missing. I couldn’t even fathom the thought of him having enemies. With most people in cases like these, there’s at least one aspect about them that makes their disappearance make sense. Maybe it’s in how they act, or maybe it’s in the people they were most often around. I could rule out the first one: Felix has never had any senility issues, nor would be one to be prone to just run away from his family with no explanation. But that leaves the second option, the harder one.

When you know your client and the person that’s gone missing, things are immediately both easier and harder. Easier in that you know the client, and they know and trust you. Sure, that’s not every case, but in this case I was 99% sure that María nor her young children had anything to do with his disappearance. You’ve always got to have that slight doubt though, even if it’s just one percent. That’s detective work rule #1.

But in the same breath, it also makes it harder- the expectations and the stakes are higher. And also, you realize just how much you don’t know about people.

I had exhausted my every resource in Whitefish for a week, but there was absolutely no trace of Felix. María had even called him in missing to me before she could to the police- damn the wait 48 hours rule- and yet I still couldn’t get the jump on the blues.

The story was that María had taken her daughters clothes shopping while Josue was staying over at a friend’s for a sleepover. When they came home, Felix was gone. However, his phone was sitting on the table and his wallet and keys still on their kitchen counter, and the idea of him not taking any of those things was preposterous. He was one to always have them on him. That was why she called him in as missing after he didn’t return for a few hours. Her and her kids’ alibis checked out with both me and eventually the Whitefish Sheriff’s Department.

While researching Felix I had come across the name Bobby Ramirez. They had been in a news article together, set in Big Sky. And something about this Bobby, even from the pictures, didn’t seem right. His smile was just a little too crooked, his eyes betraying something stronger than mischief.

When I had asked María about his next of kin, she had said there was no one. But this Bobby looked so similar to Felix, to the point that I just had to ask. Apparently Bobby Ramirez’s real name is Roberto Almería, and he’s Felix’s estranged brother who lives in Big Sky. Never would’ve guessed.

Apparently the brothers had had a terrible relationship because, in María’s words, Bobby is “a nightmare.” I didn’t really get much more information than that, but the look in her eyes told me more than enough, along with the fact that she was visibly trembling. And the last time she saw him, before she even had kids, he had talked about going into a lucrative business (presumably drugs- fentanyl, maybe?) and promptly dropped off the grid. He’d asked Felix to join him and he had given a hard no, and I guess the falling out was so bad that the kids didn’t even know they had an uncle on their dad’s side. Once she had even gotten the feeling that Bobby could be involved in this, she begged me to back off. Even though her beloved husband was at risk, she begged me to back off. But I couldn’t: this family had shown so me far too much kindness in the past for me to just give up on Felix.

Bobby Ramirez apparently owns a repair shop in Big Sky. Bob’s Motors. Super creative, I know. It’s been open for about ten years- probably since around the time of the falling out. But from the shitty reviews online I have a good feeling it’s a front, since it’s still open, and the best lead I’ve got. María had mentioned that Bobby was in with a weird crowd, and that he was friends with Kory Jefferson. That’s where the presumed drug involvement comes in.

Kory, or KJ as he’s known on the streets, was and is bad news. He’s managed to weasel his way out of at least five arrests despite being a part of multiple drug cases. You know how? By being a CI for the police against his own employers in exchange for full immunity. It’s honestly impressive how many times he’s gotten away with the stunt, but I guess people wrongly figured him to be unimportant. Bobby being tied to him and Felix going missing just as KJ was buying mass property in Big Sky… it’s too much of a coincidence not to investigate.

Hence, the seven hour drive in the truck I’ve had fifteen years. Got it at the end of high school, a gift from my dad. But she was only supposed to last ten years. Emphasis on supposed to, cause my intention is to run her until she drops dead.

Thankfully my dad was a mechanic and he taught me how to fix just about any problem with the engine and the car in general. So, just like a truck that’s actually within its warranty, the only thing I usually have to worry about is me being a dumbass.

And a dumbass I am.

I had wisely decided to test the limits of the infamous last bar of gas- look, I only had to stop once so I was thinking maybe I could make it.

I thought wrong.

“Whoops,” is what I most definitely did not say when my car actually stopped just a few miles beyond the “Welcome to Big Sky, Mt!” sign. What I really said was a string of profanities so colorful and vulgar that I genuinely would rather not repeat them. I had smacked the hazards button, and then stepped outside and kicked the tire with enough force to almost break my toe, because one dumb decision wasn’t enough for me that day.

So yeah, that’s about where we are right now. I’m standing outside of my car with one hand on my hip and the other holding my phone, weighing my options. The nearest gas station is naturally twenty miles away, and one thing’s for sure is that I’m no marathoner. It would probably take me until tomorrow to get there. On the other hand, I could do the normal thing and call a tow truck. But if there’s anything my frugal mother taught me, it’s that you shouldn’t pay for anything unless you absolutely have to. I don’t necessarily agree with that, but it’s sort of ingrained in me, and in this instance, I don’t really want to call a skeevy tow trucker.

Of course; there’s always the third, very rational option: I turn into the Hulk and push the truck. Obviously that’s the most plausible of the three.

Just as I’m getting ready to be a normal person and figure out a towing service to call does a sign of life appear. Up until now, somehow, literally nobody had passed through this road. It’s another truck, burgundy and bulky.

I wave, my face still stuck in a scowl as the driver approaches. It rolls to a halt near me on the opposite side of the road, before the hazards flash and the driver steps out.

“Car troubles, I’m assuming?” a strong Texan drawl greets me.

“You’re assuming correctly,” I smile sarcastically, taking in the stranger. He’s handsome, classically so, and he sure does fill out those Wranglers. Looks straight out of a Clint Eastwood movie, sans the cowboy hat.

“What seems to be the issue?” he cocks his head cordially, taking a step closer. Normally I’d be one to back away, but I don’t have a bad feeling about this guy. He’s wearing sunglasses, so I can’t read his eyes, but something tells me I don’t have to.

“Ran out of gas,” I mumble, more than a little embarrassed to be admitting it out loud.

“Hey, we’ve all been there,” he assures me. “Do you want me to take you to get gas?”

“I don’t usually step into stranger’s trucks,” I tell him warily. As kind as he seems I can never be too sure. Ever.

“Well if it helps any, I’m the Sheriff around these parts.” He pulls his jacket to reveal more of his belt, showing off his Sheriff’s badge pinned to it. He taps it once, for emphasis. Oh, wait, this must be… “Beau Arlen,” he introduces, interrupting my thoughts. He outstretches a hand and I shake it. His hand is huge compared to mine, callused but still soft somehow.

“Your reputation precedes you, Sheriff Arlen,” I tell him, letting go of his hand.

“That so?” It’s endearing how he perks up at that.

“I’m friends with Cassie Dewell,” I explain.

“Oh! Cass is the best! How do you know her?”

“I’m a PI- we all know each other.”

“Huh, y’don’t say.”

“What, you sheriffs aren’t like that?”

“Can’t say we are.”

“Shame,” I say melodramatically. He chuckles.

“Can’t all be PI’s, now can we?”

“True that.”

“Soo, that ride?” he tilts his head towards his truck.

“Yes, thank you,” I say sincerely.

“Anytime.” I follow him back over the middle line of the road to his truck, where he opens the door for me and offers an arm to help me step up. Huh, chivalry. Refreshing.

He stars his truck and drives a little down the road to make a u-turn before presumably heading towards the nearest gas station

“So what brings you to Big Sky?” he asks, making small talk.

“A case, actually… it’ll probably be on your radar soon enough. I’m thinking cartel, not a hundred percent sure yet.” I decide to keep the details to myself; there’s just too much at stake here.

“Another cartel? In this county? Y’know the last one ended with the boy killing his pops. And the pops had left the kid for dead too. Not to mention that the daughter was a pain in our ass, moonlighting as a real estate agent… but don’t get Hoyt started on that Tonya ‘cause she still can’t stand the sight of her… sorry, I’m ramblin,’” there’s a faint blush on the apples of his cheeks, and it’s adorable. But frankly I don’t mind his chatter, he’s nice to listen to. I like how he gets lost in his own stories.

“No worries, I like listening,” I shrug. My dad always said ‘listening lets you hear the things you wouldn’t’a heard if you weren’t.’ It’s sort of a ‘no shit’ phrase, but it’s true.

“There’s a first- Cass and Jenny like to get on me for talking too much,” he muses, no offense in his voice.

“That’s ’cause they don’t know ‘too much.’ I once had a client who told me his entire life story from birth to present day,” I reminisce, not even hyperbolizing. “I learned all about the std he got from a prostitute back in the 60s at Woodstock, and about his five wives: Maryanne, Georgia, Gina, Kevin, and Sade.”

“Kevin?” he laughs incredulously, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look at me.

“Yep. That was during the eighties though, so apparently it doesn’t make him gay,” I laugh, knowing how ridiculous it sounds.

“Wait, what was the STD?”

“Chlamydia,” I answer, without missing a beat.

“Wow, you have a good memory, huh?”

“Just for cases.” Which is true: in my daily life I would probably forget my head if it wasn’t attached to the rest of my body. I genuinely couldn’t tell you what I ate yesterday, but I do know that at 11:25 am I booked the motel I’ll be staying at. You know why I know that? Because I had just made the KJ break. See?

“That’s damn useful in your line of work,” he compliments.

“Yeah.” We ride in silence for a little bit because my dumb ass can’t hold a conversation. It’s not my fault that my only friends are my mom. Well, and Cassie Dewell, I guess, but I don’t see her all that often.

“Okay, so the accent- Texas?” I ask. Trying to bring back the conversation.

“Born and raised,” he confirms, emphasizing his drawl. I smile at the effort. I like his drawl, it compliments the deep and roughness of his voice.

“Cowboy country, nice,” I say.

“Hey, not all of us are cowboys!” he defends playfully.

“The first thing I thought when I saw you was ‘cowboy,’” I tell him matter-of-factly.

“Touché,” he laughs. “Truth be told I was literally raised on a ranch, so I can’t really be talking. Y’know, I had a really nice dog named Juniper. She herded the cattle, while I would pretend to “help.” By “help” I mean stand towards the side, scared of getting stomped on cause I weighed little more than a plastic bag from the grocery store.” More stories- I have a feeling he could write a book.

“Puberty must’ve hit you like a truck,” I mused, referring to the last part of his story.

“That or the gym,” he laughs.

“You a gym rat, Sheriff?”

“More or less,” he takes one hand off the steering wheel to flex his jacket-covered bicep. I wolf whistle, and he laughs. He’s a very large man, from his stature to his statuesque physique.

“Is there even a gym around here? I feel like I’m in the middle of nowhere, and I’m from fucking Whitefish,” I joke, referring to the fact that the only signs of life we’ve encountered are the gorgeous trees bordering the open road.

“Preaching to the choir,” he smiles.

“So, why’d you stick around, then? I heard you were just an acting sheriff,” I inquire, wondering why the cowboy-or anyone, for that matter- would want to stay here.

“I’ve got my ghosts in Houston,” his voice turns subtly melancholic, telling me not to pry. So I don’t, knowing the feeling. “But back to your question, there is a gym,” his tone returns back to its lightheartedness.

“It’s abandoned, isn’t it.”

“Well, there’s me. And uh, me. And sometimes Denise, who I think just wants an excuse to see my ass,” he laughs.

“Denise Brisbane? From Dewell and Hoyt?” I only know the name, nothing more.

“Yeah, she’s sweet- she cooks for me too, even though I’m a grown ass man.”

“Someone’s got a fan club,” I tease.

“Population one,” he retorts.

“Well maybe I’ll see you or you and Denise there at some point.”

“I’d like that… hey, you’re not joining the fan club are you?” he raises a brow from behind his sunglasses.

“In your dreams, Sheriff,” we both smile, and sit back for a second, the silence less awkward this time, at least for me.

“Y’can call me Beau, y’know. If you want to, anyway,” he tells me, breaking the half a second of quiet.

“Mk, Beau it is.” I like the way his name feels coming out of my mouth. And what a fitting name it is… he is objectively gorgeous.

“Hey, I just realized I never got yours,” he says suddenly.

“Huh? My what?” I say confused. Look, the road trip’s got me exhausted.

“Your name,” he clarifies.

“Oh. It’s Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N- that’s a really nice name,” he compliments.

“Thanks,” I can’t help but be flattered.

“Where’s it from?”

“My dad- it was the name of some book character.”

“Cool! That’s a lot more creative than how my kid got named,” he laughs.

“You have a kid?” I ask, mildly surprised. Not that I think he’d be a bad dad after the half hour of knowing him, but just because since I don’t have kids I don’t usually expect people my age to either.

“Mhm. Emily- she takes after her mom, though.”

“You’re married?” I don’t see a ring, that’s the only reason I’m asking.

“I was.” There’s that melancholy tone again… something tells me there’s more to this cordial cowboy than meets the eye.

“Well in any case, Emily’s a pretty name for what I’m sure is a beautiful daughter,” I say, changing the subject.

“You callin’ me handsome?” he teases.

“All I’m going to say is that your mama was real on the nose with the name… Beauregard.” I decide to mix the compliment a little bit.

“You really think that’s my name?”

“No,” I confess, giggling.

“Good, I was hopin’ I didn’t come across as a”-he shudders comedically-“Beauregard.”

“Cmon, it’s not the worst name,” I chide.

“Well it’s certainly far from the best,” he retorts, and I shake my head with a smile. “Alright, we’re coming up on it now.”

I look up ahead, taking in the sight of this gas station that’s literally the only building in sight. It’s a bit on the dinghy side, half of the letters in the neon sign don’t work, so it says “De Ass Ton” instead of Del’s Gas Station. Go figure for this town.

But wait…

“What the fuck?” we both say in unison, taking in the sight before us.

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Until Part Two, dear reader! <3

#beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x y/n #beau arlen fanfiction #big sky #big sky show #Jensen Ackles #fanfic #ongoing series #hehe #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction

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charleslee-valentine · 6 months ago

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Chance

For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Disability Pride Month Event: Day Five- Victims

Word Count: ~1,600

Warnings: Death mention, mild internalized ableism, grief and anxiety.

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Turns out a giant grenade blast echoing around cave tunnels could do some pretty serious damage to the ear drums. Also turns out hearing aids ain’t some magical fix for hearing loss like Stretch might’ve once thought. Curse her former self for being so clueless about this way of life. Privileged little lady she used to be.

Bopping her head to music of any quality, let alone the shitty radio approved stuff, ain’t an option any more, took it for granted while it lasted. Hated that job and loved it at the same time, but she was too hard on it all. Only way they’re getting any of her ears back to working is surgery and tapping into bone, which Stretch ain’t willing to allow. Stitches and blood and metal in her head, just seems like a bad omen still.

Losing Lg would always be the worst part though. Take all her hearing, take her vision and her tongue and her spine, none of that would matter if sweet Lg hadn’t been taken down as a pawn.

They’d’ve found a way to talk without words and deafness getting in the way. Lg would’ve been patient and calm when she had her fits of frustration over the tinnitus making the inside of her head ring like a church bell.

She wears his keys on a necklace chain and as many of his clothes she could track down on her back. Keeping at least his memory close if he can’t be there in person. Guilt and regret and all can’t last forever when they were the sacrifices. The fault, if they’re really gonna place it, can only go to Lefty Enright, but he’s dead too. Checked to be sure when they were investigating that damned explosion and started pulling bodies out. He’s still legally a John Doe, but she recognized his mangled face.

Three hundred and eleven unique sets of bones were recovered from that place alongside him. Almost none of them complete, maybe being just a finger or two that didn’t belong to one of the more full bodies they were finding and had to be classed on its own. Among them, most of Lg was recovered and buried, gratefully including his face and his hat. That meant her business was done.

That’s her reason for stayin’ inside so much now. Her mama calls and she screens it right away. Writes a letter or a card instead that never gets a response. Doesn’t leave the house except for to restock on supplies. Food, hygiene, bullets. That kind of thing.

Against her better judgment she has a television in her kitchen, watching adverts for things to grab on her trips instead of browsing the shelves. Tries new things and usually hates them so bad she reverts right back to the routine that’s keepin’ her living. Stretch won’t stay out in the world a second longer than she has to.

Unless it’s to drop by the bulletin boards.

Stretch keeps track of the missing posters. The immortalized ink-blot faces she hopes she doesn’t ever have to recognize. When new ones appear, that’s her sign to make herself scarce again until it feels safe, and even then she’s got her pistol in her purse and a knife in each pocket. Never too careful. No such thing.

But nothing could prepare her for the day Lefty’s face joins the sea of forgotten souls.

“Enright, Boude AKA Lefty. Last seen in October of 1986. The missing person suffers from schizophrenia and is likely off of medications. He may be confused and in need of medical attention. We ask if you see him not to confront him. Contact The Hardesty family investigation in cooperation with Fort Worth police.”

The phone numbers listed included the police station, the sheriff's personal line, and one Sally Hardesty.

The last time Stretch saw that name she was readin’ in the paper that Sally’s tormentors had struck again killin’ those two kids on that bridge. Following that lead had doomed her to a similar fate. Similar losses. Everyday she regrets being stupid enough to play that tape and believe Lefty was going to call in backup and help. Turns out he wasn’t even a ranger anymore when she met him, but it’s too late to stay furious.

Stretch scrawls the numbers on the back of a receipt and gets the hell out of there before she breaks down inside a super store. Might be a hell of a sight to take her little ass to the garden section and wield a hedge trimmer like a saw against imaginary threats. Could go down in flames like the man ‘ come before her.

Instead she goes home and cries into her couch pillow ‘til she can’t breathe through her nose and passes out into a feverish sleep. Real badass now, huh. Sometimes she wonders how she even survived. If all of her did.

All by herself she crawled on her belly through Hell and she’d be damned if she just laid down and died after all of that. So why is she so nervous to just dial the phone and tell Miss Sally Hardesty the truth and the full one at that.

Well, maybe she wouldn’t have the heart to tell her the kind of man her uncle was. Sacrificing her and Lg when he knew better than most the brutality of that family. At this point it’s not even a complicated ordeal. She doesn’t forgive Lefty, even dead and gone. Why should she? She hasn’t just stopped loving poor Lg.

Still Sally deserves to know he’s dead. Closure and all. There’s just the problem or Stretch’s ears. Phone calls don’t work for her, the fuzz of traveling voices blocking out just about anything she might’ve been able to hear in the muffled way she does.

To the library it is. Computer records, phone books, she’ll be able to get an address for Sally off of that phone number and send her a letter.

It takes two trips, but she succeeds, her letter already written between all her frantic digging. The chase, the investigation, it makes her heart race and catch in her throat and she struggles to breathe. Actions like scrolling, filing, flipping through pages, it all reminds her of her job at the radio station. Of the beau who was by her side back then. Has to shake off the nostalgiac haze when she leaves.

Stretch is grateful once she can just mail the letter informing Sally her posters are futile, then maybe take her mind off it for a while.

The response comes only about half a week later, a good sign for their proximity and ability to meet up. Because that’s all Sally asked for actually. She wasn’t disturbed, didn’t call the police like Stretch might’ve if someone admitted to finding her address as public information.

Sally’s letter reads:

“Miss Brock.

I heard your situation down the grapevine. I wondered myself if I should reach out. I’m grateful you did first. My worried heart couldn’t decide one way or the other.

How can I begin this? Maybe with ‘I’m sorry.’ I’m sorry that I couldn’t convince them that Hell on earth was real in time. I’m sorry you got dragged into it and further down by my uncle. He’d always been that way, too headstrong for his own good. I guess I suspected all along he was dead. Two years is a long time to be on his own somewhere.

I hope it’s been long enough for you to heal somewhat. At least physically. I haven’t been quite the same since my survival and it’s been sixteen years for me. Please pardon the wobbly handwriting, my hands still shake. If it’s alright, I’ll pray for you. That the doctors may find a way to help your hearing, or better, that inventors might create a way to make the world easier without having to change you. It would be nice if the world could change for us once.

Miss Brock, it would mean a lot if we could meet in person. I trust you’ll bring protection and I will too. I carry a Cobra everywhere I go. Together I think we’d be safe enough to at least grab a coffee. I know a place. Write me back if you’d like, or don’t. I’m grateful for having the chance to have ever written you either way.

Thank you for sharing the news about my uncle, and for bringing some light back to this broken old wench’s day. I’ll get over my heartbreak eventually.

-Sally Ann.”

Stretch reads it over and over, like if she does it enough times the letter might reveal itself to be a trick or trap of sorts. Nothing stands out. Really, she figures their mutual tormentors likely wouldn’t even be able to spell well enough to write a letter like that. Or mail it in a darling pink envelope.

Scared as she might be, to accept leaving the house, and communication with a stranger she had to essentially stalk to find and the moral qualms of all that, on top of struggling to communicate at all with her deafness- Stretch finds this is the first time in two years she’s had something to look forward to.

She cries again, not ashamed of al the tears that fall by this point, gettin’ little wet splotches all over her page while scrawling her confirmation. Sally will likely understand.

“Blessed Miss Hardesty.

I’m there. Let’s do this next week sometime. I won’t go out ‘til after Friday, the 13th. Is that alright?

-Vanita Brock, but you miss, can call me Stretch.”

#tcmfanevent #tcmdisabilityweek #tcm fanfic #my fic #my writing #stretch tcm 2 #vanita stretch brock #vanita brock #sally hardesty #in my heart this is slash fic btw #tee hee

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kazperthegh0st · 1 year ago

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Hi. Im writing my fanfiction on here because writing a oneshot takes more than a month and i dont want to open google docs. (Will be on Ao3 when complete).

Summary: Sokka/Zuko where they want to go on a nice, relaxing vacation but Azula just got out of the mental hospital (again) and Zuko cant leave her by herself so Katara is paid to babysit her. (Modern Setting AU). Azula/Katara.

Ill reblog with updates as time goes on.

Actual fanfic begins here:

Zuko has no idea where Azula got the baseball bat. Thats his first concern. The second is this: What the hell happened to her hair?

“Hello, Zuzu,”she greeted. Then she pushed past him.

She showed up at his door at 4 in the morning with a red duffel bag over her shoulder and a black metal baseball bat with lightning decals in her left hand.

Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun. But her bangs. They were completely crooked and angled and an utter mess.

She had bright red headphones around her neck and Zuko could her some shitty metal music playing.

And all Zuko could think was what the fuck.

Azula collapsed onto his couch, dropping her belongings on the coffee table, propping her feet up on the armrest, and securing her headphones over her ears. She closed her eyes.

Zuko closed the door and took a deep breath.

“Hello, Azula. Why are you here? In my house. With me. Instead of… an insane asylum,” he questioned.

She didn’t respond, only nodded her head to the music filling her ears.

He poked her.

Her eyes opened and she glared at him.

“‘Relaxation is the key to a swift recovery’, Zuzu” she told him. He hated that she was quoting Iroh.

She removed her headphones.

“Do you need something?” She questioned.

“Why are you in my apartment, Azula?”

“Did you think i was going to sleep under a bridge like a homeless person? How pathetic do you think i am?” She rolled her eyes.

“Why aren’t you with Mai? Or Iroh? Or Ty lee, even?”

“Mai kicked me out. Ty lee wouldn’t answer her phone—probably on some stupid anti technology shtick because its ‘aura is off’. And Iroh gave me your address and said i was your problem until he got back from Japan. ‘Familial bonding or whatever’.”

“Iroh sent you?” Zuko felt betrayed.

“Yes, Zuzu.”

“Hes not coming back for another month.”

“Guess im your problem for another month, then”

“I have plans, college, a life, Azula! I cant have you living here! Im leaving for my own vacation in a week!”

“You dont want me in your life, Zuzu? Thats cruel. I thought you were the good sibling. Guess I was wrong for once.”

Zuko stalked off into his kitchen. His house was being corrupted by his evil sister because he couldn’t find it in himself to throw her out.

He couldn’t take it out on Iroh. His uncle worked so hard and needed this break.

He couldn’t take it out on his dad. That evil man was in a prison cell on the other side of the country.

He couldn’t take it out on Azula. It wasn’t really her fault she was the way she was. It was their dad’s fault for traumatizing his kids.

Azula was just as much of a victim as he was.

More will be added later and will eventually end up on Ao3.

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victimsofyaoipoll · 1 year ago

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Round 2

Propaganda Under Cut

Amy Rose

WAUGH okay so basically like everyone villainizes her when shipping Sonic with any other character (and 99% of the time its Amy being villainized against a m/m ship ://) but yeah Amy canonically has a "crush" on Sonic and stuff (which is weird in its self cuz age gaps and things but creators smh) and anyways any time people write Sonic in a relationship with other characters they always make her super upset and mad that Sonic isn't dating her etc etc and basically make her a pouting 12 year old because her super hero crush doesn't date her instead of writing her as a supportive best friend to sonic WHICH SHE SHOULD BE WRITTEN AS !!!! and uh yeah if you couldn't tell this makes me so upset because amy is such a good character people should stop ruining her

STOP MAKING HER HOMOPHOBIC!!! SHE WOULD NOT FUCKING SAY THAT!!!!!!!

sonamy isnt even real but people still hate her for her pink girl swag and crush on sonic. amy rose forever victim of girlhatred among sth fans. charm points: big hammer. cute. sillay. constantly in positions of power that make you go how is this 12 year old so responsible.

Mia Winters

she's Ethan's wife and Rose's mother, and I tend to see her villainized in fanfiction (especially chris/ethan and ESPECIALLY karl/ethan) because shes a genuinely traumatized and complicated character, but people turn her into the shitty, abusive wife or the dead wife trope for the sake of her technically getting in the way of their ship. The best I've seen her written while still placing her out of the story was her being casually divorced but like, co parenting.

people are so mean to her just so they can push Wintersberg (Ethan Winters x Karl Heisenberg). she's not the best all the time but the evil forces r so bad to her. so i don't think it's her fault. Mia Winters haters DNI!!!!!!!!

Mia Winters is a secret agent, researcher and BOW handler who is married to Just Some Guy. When she accidentally lures her white bread husband to a spooky den of mold monsters, she sacrifices herself to save him from the mess she made (god forbid women do anything). Chronic victim of getting fridged or turned into a third wheel so one or more of a handful of men can play house with her husband and daughter.

#poll #round 2 #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #resident evil #re7 #re8 #mia winters

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soleminisanction · 1 year ago

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I just went through most of your character rants and analysis and I love them so much!❤️ It’s so nice to find someone with a lot of the same opinions as me, especially after seeing a good bit of Tim hate in TikTok comments lately. I love the animatics and cosplays on there but it sucks that it seems like it’s seen as cool to be nasty to Tim’s character over there, or maybe it's just the comments of the videos I get? It’s usually people thinking he’s a misogynist or that his character steals from and or makes other robins look bad to hype him up. I don’t get these comments because I feel like all of the bats have been written with misogynistic dialogue at some point, even the girls! I don’t understand why people latch this on to Tim as some big character trait. Maybe it’s some joke I’m just not understanding. Also with the bringing other characters down to prop his character up, isn’t that what pretty much every character that is currently in the spotlight does at some point (like Steph’s Batgirl run infamously does to Babs and Tim)? Why do they attribute this only to Tim? Also, all the robins steal traits from each in adaptations and other comic runs, again why do they act like it’s a Tim only thing? Basically, all the other Bats do what they claim they hate Tim for?! It’s genuinely mind-boggling to me!

TikTok's algorithm is the worst thing about that app, because it's got a terrible tendency to send peoples' feeds into negativity spirals, and that in turn fosters a community of people who are either looking for rage-bait, are mad because they can't get away from the rage-bait, or try to bait other people to rage because that gets them engagement. There's no way off the merry-go-round once you get on it either, it's just miserable; it's why I eventually had to drop the app and now only watch the videos ported over to YouTube or Tumblr.

For my money, the reason Tim specifically gets blamed for this thing that is very obviously a problem with comics as an industry, not with his character specifically, comes at least in part from the drama involving Steph.

Because see, defenses of Steph tend to start from a seed of truth -- she was the subject of sexist writing in War Games, both in the fact that they chose to fridge her for Bruce's manpain and that artists during cuts away to the infamous torture sequence (which did not need to be as long as it was) drew her in a highly sexualized manner. But some people took that truth and ran with it, leaping onto this frustrating, stupid second-wave feminist idea that women are inherently innocent and can only ever be victims of The Patriarchy and therefor if anything goes wrong in the life of a woman, it MUST be the fault of A Man. And since it can be hard to pin-point which comic creators are responsible for these things, the brunt started to fall on the in-universe men.

So all the men around Steph became scapegoats, and Tim is the man she's both around the most and whom she has wronged the most. And then that attitude got amplified by her Batgirl run, which does this really manipulative bullshit where it only brings up Steph's past in terms that make her look like a helpless victim with no agency, without acknowledging or even mentioning any of the things she chose to do of her own free will. It especially went out of its way to demonize Tim and paint him as unreasonable, judgey and sexist, because the alternative would mean acknowledging that Steph had done some really fucked-up shit to him in the last days of Robin, and it was in fact perfectly reasonable for him to want her out of his life.

But see, that would mean that a good guy (gasp) didn't like her. And had a good reason not to like her. And trying to write a character who rises to become a true hero because they're fighting to make up for the shitty things they did in the past is so much harder than writing a innocent widdle victim who only has the best intentions and whose only problem is that the world is unfair to her specficially. White women with no self-awareness can project themselves on the latter, but not the former.

Amplify that by the faction of Damian stans who treat fictional rivalries as Deadly Serious Business and the fraction of Jason stans who hate him for existing as the result of Jason's death, both of whom will jump on and amplify any criticism no matter how baseless and uninformed just to score points against their perceived "enemy," and there you go. That's what I've observed unfolding since about 2007 anyway.

#fandom ramblings #dc comics asks

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mtsainthelens · 1 year ago

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saw the new hunger games

spoilers under cut

that was pretty bad. there were a lot of things wrong with it so i theoretically have a lot to complain about but it was such a dumb fucking movie im not as energized as id usually be to talk about it. ill be quick

this movie had all the elements it needed to succeed and totally fucked it. the goals:

-create a convincing and interesting backstory for President Snow

-show how the games were transformed into a spectacle

these goals were made explicit both in the marketing and through diegetic speeches within the movie. the premise of the story is that a young Snow serves as a mentor to a singer from district 12. she is the “songbird” to his “snake”…. pretty natural evolution from there to see how snow can make her into a celebrity and give Panem a good show. that had to have been the pitch to get this movie through the board. it’s a shame the movie just… does not follow through with it LOL. like thats blatantly the direction it seems to be going in for the first part of the movie. but the spectacle aspect gets completely buried because the capitol - who INSTRUCTED snow to make it into a show - keeps snubbing him and keeping him from acting. the “press tour” that was such a big deal in all the original hunger games is like two days in universe and about five minutes on the screen. completely overshadowed. there’s no camp or glamour. snow is just not a stunt queen here and i think that’s a shame.

ok, so if the movie doesnt really show how the hunger games became a spectacle, what does it show?

i really couldn’t tell you. the games themselves are uneventful. the tenth annual games are set in what’s basically a parking garage, LOL. it’s a very dismal and marvel-esque set. there’s a real sense in this movie that the capital is still finding its stride and that a lot of things aren’t working for it just yet. the failing drones and the awkwardness of the announcer (this version’s caesar flickman) are nice touches, i really enjoyed them. but i dont think “the capitol is still finding its footing” is a good enough excuse to justify how shitty this year’s game was. excruciatingly boring, like they have no concept of history or the standard that the previous movies set. we all remember the clockwork arena.

so it’s not about the games, so i guess it’s about snow and his tribute lucy?

well that sucks! they’re horrible characters, my god.

lucy is the worst offender. i know rachel zegler was a victim of conservative harassment recently so i feel a little bad to be trashing her performance. i genuinely dont know if its the fault of her or the script, but whatever it is, the effect is awful. genuinely reads like a parody of a wattpad protagonist. we are given that she is a singer. there is no substance to her besides that. she’s corny. she feels out of place in this setting and not in any charming way, its just annoying and off putting. kind of a manic pixie dream girl to snow. i think its very misogynist honestly? dont write women this way, she’s barely human.

snow is easier to watch and a more likable personality in my eyes, but he’s no better written. whereas lucy has no internal world, the inner workings of snow’s mind fold in on themselves. the movie swears that his motives make sense, that they aren’t confused, but they very obviously are. his allegiances and morals change on a dime. they cant decide whether hes sympathetic or if he is a young president snow and he can seemingly only be one at a time. i honestly got whiplash watching it go down. in fairness, its not like the movie doesnt try to offer motivation for the switches. theyre just not very good or convincing and its not enough to make me forgive them.

so the movie failed at what it set out to do. what else did it fail at? what did it actually do well? i will leave the rest of this review to explain, as well as some changes that i would have made had i been in charge.

the bad:

-pacing was off. movie did not need to be that long, many shots went on longer than they had to.

-costuming was also pretty bad. some of the tributes were wearing shein and fake jewelry

-lucy escapes the arena not only alive but UNINJURED? peeta and katniss didnt get that. she was surrounded by rebar and murder and snow walked away w more injuries than her. insane plot armor. really dumb.

-there was a human zoo in this movie. in general im really conflicted about this “aracial” Panem. i know its a difficult subject to breach and im not sure what the alternative would be, but there’s something really fucked up about seeing a human zoo, a black child being hung, many of the tributes being people of color, and all of this being brushed over as if their race doesnt really matter and theres no larger historical context in which this movie exists. also this movie is loosely set in the 50s/60s. likewise making the Gamemaster a black woman. im not sure how i feel about it but i think more care shouldve been devoted to the handling of race in this movie.

-there are a couple scenes where an old analog tv is playing and its really obvious they added the scan lines in post-production. looks stupid as fuck. you couldve just used an actual analog tv.

-the rabies scene. lmfao. also i dont think thats how rat poison works but i could be wrong.

-a lot of the action sequences are very dumb and dont make sense. they build suspense and dont do anything to overcome it gracefully. this is really obvious when snow is trying to get his handkerchief into the snake pit without being seen and so he just…. walks over and does it LOL. and doesnt get caught or have to sneak really cause of plot armor. the arena has a lot of kids wandering around or hiding in places where it makes no sense for them to be, they kinda just wander on screen when its time for their cue and only get killed as needed, because someone else got their cue. no gravity or substance.

-lucy and snow’s performances arent just bad, they come across as anachronistic within the retrofuturist 50s setting. as my friend said they have “tiktok face”. theyre too contemporary for my taste

-snow looks like a skinhead towards the end and i dont like it

-arena sucked

-the hanging tree scene was soooo stupid. so was the katniss namedrop. made me wish i was watching a better movie.

-the movie didnt deserve to go on long diegetic speeches about its own themes. i guess im glad, cause i wouldnt have known what the fuck it was trying to do otherwise, but nothing that happened in the story supported what they were saying. sloppy.

the good:

-lucy’s dress was very pretty

-huge credit to the set designers who worked on the control room and the capitol. i see the retro futurist aesthetic you were going for and i appreciate it. mostly a good job, im sure if they let you into the arena you would’ve gave us something better.

-hunter schafer really sold it. i loved her performance even with what little screentime she had. brought some much needed warmth and humanity to this empty ass movie. my favorite character, easily. release the schafer cut.

-like i said, i thought the announcer’s performance was pretty good as well. i feel like jason schwartzman had a better understanding of the theme of “spectacle” within this movie than anyone else.

-i guess the lab was cool? the snakes definitely paled in comparison to other mutts in the series, but they were cool enough. i liked the scene where his classmate got poisoned.

-peter dinklage constantly sneaking hits of morphine was funny as fuck.

changes:

if you asked me the one thing i would change to fix this movie, it would be any traces of the romance subplot. remove any traces of snow being a nice person. i would have preferred the mentor/tribute relationship to be shown as explicitly and inherently exploitative, because it is! you know damn well there was never any hope for them to be in a healthy relationship for as long as snow was loyal to the capitol. and the writers valued this relationship so much that to save it, they had snow rebel? president snow? the love story, the conflict that snow feels, its all so fucking trite and overblown. it didnt need to be there. just portray it straightforwardly, with snow being a charming person but never kind or counterculture enough to really risk lacy over the system. he should have been eviler and more clearly identifiable as his older self, because this version does not cut it. i hate a fake sympathetic bitch

-lacy shouldnt have won. doesnt that ruin the continuity established by the past books? just kill her in the arena. that had to have been in the drafts right? everything that happened after the arena was really convoluted and stupid and failing. lucy dies, wow so sad, i hate when girls die, but i sure did learn about show biz. that was my president snow impression, if you couldnt tell. that was from a better version of this movie.

-it wouldve been cool if instead of lucy being essentially a tiktoker, she had the personality of an early hollywood icon. kind of a judy garland figure. wouldve fit into the setting better and been more original as a concept.

ok end review! guess that wasnt very quick after all whoops.

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snnydcysarch · 1 year ago

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GETTING TO KNOW YOU .

respond to the following prompts out of character . then , tag 9 others that you'd like to get to know a little bit better .

ROLEPLAYER NAME: lumi

ROLEPLAYER PRONOUNS: she / her

MUSE NAME: allison jade "sonny" munroe

PREFERRED COMMUNICATION: discord if we're mutuals, especially since tumblr eats my ims

EXPERIENCE: i want to say 2012??? i was a baby and should have NOT been here jkbsjgbrekj

PREFERRED ROLEPLAY TYPE: yes

PET PEEVES & DEALBREAKERS: am i about to copy and paste my list since i have done this before? you bet your ass i am

plagiarism. whether it be a character or a plot idea, don't steal from anybody. people work hard on their characters and plots. i understand not many plots can be considered original, but everyone comes up with their own twists. stop stealing.

white washing. as a poc person, i have dealt with a lot of racism both irl and on tumblr. it was to a point i took two years off of this hellsite. so do not change a poc character into a white one. we've been erased as it is. and if you struggle trying to match a character to its race, do not feel afraid to ask someone for help on it. there are also websites that show you an fc's ethnicity as well.

not knowing where the line is between mun and muse. they are two completely different things.

god modding. for the love of all that is chuck, do not control what anyone else's character does!! we all control our own characters and that's how it should be. this also means doing something crazy that someone else may not approve of so if you want to do something, ask first.

force ship, simple as that

anon hate. seriously, that kind of negativity should never be welcomed nor encouraged. we all come here to escape as it is so just let everyone have fun writing.

people acting better than others. i'm sorry but no one is superior over anyone else.

lack of communication. we're all grown adults here. if there's a problem, just communicate.

trash talking someone's portrayal. realistically, we all interpret canon characters differently than others and that is okay. no one's version is right or wrong. no one is the "chanel/walmart" version.

shit stirrers. people don't get along sometimes, it happens. but don't be someone who fuels the fire between two people when all they wanted was to clear the air and talk.

rushing people to reply and shaming them when they don't reply fast enough. everyone has real lives and can't always get to it. now a simple nudge to let someone know they replied maybe weeks later just in case they missed it is fine. but if you're going to put pressure on people? stop.

using mental health as an excuse to be a shitty person. many people here suffer with different kinds of disorders and that is no one's fault. but that does not mean it's a pass to be a horrible person. you choose how to treat people around you. you choose whether or not to be a good person.

i can go on and on, but we don't have time for that so here is the rest of the list on the top of my head: self victimizing, ignoring triggers, trying to control your rp partners, bullying, not understanding that rping is a hobby and not a jobby, lack of respect for female characters both canon and oc, ect.

PLOTS OR MEMES: yes. honestly i like memes to start things off that lead into plots. so yes.

LONG REPLIES OR SHORT REPLIES: literally depends on my mood rkbsgjrekbg i like short things that lead into long things.

BEST TIME TO WRITE: when i'm not depressy and burnt out kjrebgsjkrbe

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE: we have similar traits? we both go out of our way to help people before we burn ourselves out. we both get treated poorly by the people we are close to fml. we're both very clumsy. she's also not afraid to stand up for herself, which i have been better at. she will fight for those she loves and same. we both can't flirt for shit. however, sonny is A LOT nicer than me.

TAGGED BY : @lupaeus

TAGGING : YOU X 9

#𝙼𝙴 𝙼𝚈𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 . . . dash game

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snnynaturalarch · 9 months ago

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GET TO KNOW THE MUN!

Name: lumi!

Pronouns: she/her

Most Active Muses: sonny on this blog and on @snnydcys , @greatcstarcher is second , i do have other blogs that you can find here

RP Pet Peeves: oh god, to list a few...

lack of respect for female characters both canon and oc. i can't say enough that female muses deserve to be seen. especially poc female muses.

not knowing where the line is between mun and muse. they are two completely different things.

god modding. for the love of all that is chuck, do not control what anyone else's character does. we all control our own characters and that's how it should be. this also means doing something crazy that someone else may not approve of so if you want to do something, ask first.

demanding people read your rules, but you don't do the same. everyone has different rules for each of their blogs. respect goes both ways. so if they read your rules, please do the same. they are there for a reason.

force ship, simple as that

anon hate. seriously, that kind of negativity should never be welcomed nor encouraged. we all come here to escape as it is so just let everyone have fun writing.

lack of communication. we're all grown adults here. if there's a problem, just communicate.

rushing people to reply and shaming them when they don't reply fast enough. everyone has real lives and can't always get to it. or maybe they don't just have muse for it and need time away from it. now a simple nudge to let someone know they replied maybe weeks later just in case they missed it is fine. but if you're going to put pressure on people? stop.

i can go on and on, but we don't have time for that so here is the rest of the list on the top of my head for now: self victimizing, ignoring triggers, trying to control your rp partners, bullying, hovering, spreading lies about people, gate keeping, face chasing, racism, not understanding boundaries, not understanding that rping is a hobby and not a jobby, ect.

Experience/How Many Years: a long as time that for the earlier years... i shouldn't have JBESGKBKB

Fluff, Angst, or Smut: yes. i love both angst and fluff so much, but if for example i am doing too much angst, i would want a break for fluff so that way there is time for me to breathe. for smut, as long as i'm comfortable with you, i'll do it. but if i don't know you or have never written with you before, i most likely won't.

Plots or Memes: i love memes that inspire plotting. cause as much as i love plotting, sometimes i don't know what i actually want. unless a plot randomly hits me out of nowhere.

Long or Short Replies: depends on my brain. short replies are fun for crack and silly things, but longer threads for actually plots and things.

Time to Write: when my brain feels like it! i don't force myself to write if i don't want to.

Are You Like Your Muses: i would say i am in a way. more than i realized? more so her disney canon version. we both give are all to the people we love and care about, even if it means never putting ourselves first. being clumsy ekbrkg. we both get walked all over by people that we love. she's not afraid to be herself and stand up for herself, which i'm not afraid of being myself but i'm working on standing up for myself more.

tagged by @rebuiltmyself ( my bb <3 )

tagging : youuuuuuu

#𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴 𝚂𝙰𝙵𝙴𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙴 . . . dash game

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psuedosugu · 18 days ago

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well the show kind of does expect you to think hes a good father atleast to some capacity. its really highlighted in that speech loona gives to octavia where she said that her dad is doing his best and that she should cut him some slack which he is definitely not.

the show wants to paint it as a “hes only like this because of his shitty situation” which like kinda but not really??? stolas was fully capable of getting a divorce but didn’t. he instead cheated on stella with blitzo so openly he was even willing to go to ozzys with him which is??? even if he was staying with stella for octavia he had to have known that wouldn’t end well for anyone

post s2 ep 1 the show tries so hard to paint stolas as this tortured character that never does any wrong on purpose and is a victim of his circumstances when a good chunk of his problems are atleast partially his fault. i really wish the narrative let him be the complex character that he should be because that would work 10x better for the plot but thats just not how it is

they literally made it so obvious too. the whole plotline where they go to kill the cheating husband but blitzo froze up because they looked happy or some shit?? despite the fact that he was no hesitation about to do the same thing in s1 ep 1? its so out of character for him, and so clearly just a way the narrative tried to get ppl to sympathize w/ stolas instead of actually writing him better

ok this isn’t a hellaverse acc anymore but i have to get this rant out here,

octavia was not being irrational with how she acted in sinsmas!! just imagine being in her shoes: your dad cheats on ur mom with some random dude, constantly picks him, and even sacrifices his life for him on live television. how would that make you feel?

“oh but stolas has shown he cares about her!” he SAID he cares about her with words, yes, but he had never shown it with his actions, atleast not on screen. you can see it in the loo loo land ep when he claimed he wanted to have a special day for via but made blitzo tag along despite the fact he can defend the both of them just fine because?? he was just horny i guess???

you can also see it in the seeing stars ep when he goes to la to look for via but gets sidetracked by blitzo again, at the end it wasn’t even him that found her, it was loona 😭

stolas is not a good father, nor was he “trying his best”, and the fact that the show expects the audience to believe that shows how incompetent the writing is at times

#helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical

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opinated-user · 2 years ago

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Lily is so weird to me because she just insists on deep throatng ceos and corporations and throwing regular workers under the bus for poor decisions. Like it's the reporters fault that Disney is always claiming to have their first gay character, even though the company could easily make their own media posts correcting them. It's the designers who released the new pokemon game early despite that not ever being their call, but instead the higher ups in the company. She never brings up how the ceo of blizzard is one of the worse out there, or the real sexual predators that worked in the company, but instead wants to beat the lady who wrote her fictional wifu wrong with a rock. Its Suagers fault for SUs shitty realse schedule not the network. Like it's really weird to me that this woman who prides themselves on being super progressive apparently hates workers and either straight up defends or ignores the real people in power.

All I can think is that, remembering her posts about other breadtubers, and complaining that instead of blaming everything bad on racism they blamed things on class struggles, she somehow came to the conclusion that corporations really aren't that bad and people are just lying about how little say they have when working for them. It's also easy to see that her lack of ever having a job outside YouTube has severely impacted what she feels workers can get away with. Like she believes if they get told do something they don't agree with they can/should just say no, as if that's a thing they can do. So instead of it being the higher ups fault, it's the lower ranking people's fault for not standing up to them. It's really a gross mindset, kinda victim blaming mindset.

i have been informed in the past that apparently she worked on a fast food restaurant some time ago, but otherwise you're right on point, anon. there's only one thing i want to remark and is this: "Like it's the reporters fault that Disney is always claiming to have their first gay character, even though the company could easily make their own media posts correcting them." if someone out there believes that the reporters just made those articles without any input from the company or their marketing team then they don't understand what marketing is. companies hire those writers to write about their movies, products, etc. if you have ever been on youtube and see an ad break of the youtuber suddenly explaining all about a new service or product they want you to try out, it's basically the same thing. they could not write anything that Disney doesn't want them to say, it would literally be impossible without there being some big consequences for whoever it was responsible for the mistake. the publisher gets paid by the company, the company recieves more potential costumers, the website where the article is written gets clics. it's a perfect arrengement for everyone. the only outlayers are indie publications and random reviewers just talking about the media, but if the article was on any kind of official publication then it was most certainly agreed upon before hand. someone had to approve that, just like sponsors have to approve the ads youtubers do before the video is published. this is already a known fact when it comes to most movies of big companies or trendy products, but when it comes to disney it's absolutely absurd to suggest that they wouldn't do this. disney as a company has spend 5.5 million dollars on advertisement last year alone. they had the resources, the time and the people to make Strange World into a success and they didn't because they didn't want to. when the movie with a main queer character of color fails they get to say "well, at least we tried!" and move on to keep making cisheteronormative movies that they'll promote to ensure that those are wins for the company. meanwhile LO'll either completely ignore the movie ever existed or insist that the movie was bad by itself so of course nobody cared for it. she's a capitalist at heart so when she sees a big company like Disney of course her first instinct is to praise it first, because something right and smart they must be doing to be on the position they're in. workers, on the other hand, don't have that power so that must mean they're doing something wrong and it's actually their fault.

#lily orchard

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hizashis-lil-bunbun · 4 years ago

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No Rest for the Wicked- HardDom!Dabi X Fem! Brat Reader

Prompt: Dabi just wants to take a nap but everything goes wrong

I asked a friend in one of my discord groups for a random writing prompt when I was up late. Something about this one activated my inner ✨brat✨

Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.3k

Kinks/Warnings: brat taming, degradation, pain play, spanking, belting, mild dacryphilia, bondage, edging and denial, hints of dubcon

Banner made by the always lovely @ladyshinigami!

••••••••••••••

Exhausted.

That was the best way to sum up Dabi’s mood as he trudged through the bar fronting the League’s headquarters. Shigaraki had sent him out on a mission with orders to “stake out and take out” a small band of up-and-coming heroes. It had been easy enough to find them (newbies can never resist being flashy), but making sure they were all disposed of was another matter. A matter only made more complicated by a few rogue civilians that happened to spot him. It had taken him two full days to track everyone down, leaving him covered in blood, soot, and burns. In short, Dabi needed a break.

“Well, well, well.” Came the nasally voice of their fearless leader, “The prodigal son returns! Took you long enough, Dabi. Hope that means you didn’t fuck up the mission.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Dabi snaps back, too tired and sore to care about his tone. Not that he’d be any kinder to Shigaraki if he wasn’t. “I did what you asked and left no witnesses. Now piss off before I turn you into a smoldering pile.”

Shigaraki didn’t rise to Dabi’s bait, opting to simply flip him the bird before going back to whatever game console he was currently obsessed with. Dabi returns the gesture in kind, glowering as he disappears behind the bar and into the League’s living quarters. Their warehouse provides more than enough space for everyone to have their own room, and the boss even allowed them to decorate and furnish them as they pleased. Wasn’t that generous? Dabi plods down the hallway to his assigned room and kicks open the door only to find it was occupied. By you.

“Dabi?” You question for a moment before your eyes light up with excitement. “Dabi! You’re back!”

As a fellow Stain devotee, you’d sought out the LOV and been initiated as a member a mere six months ago. And two months later, you’d been initiated into Dabi’s bed. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves “lovers.” Love was few and far between in a hornet’s nest of villains. But you’d certainly become something more than the occasional lay.

He grunts as he stalks into the room, shedding his coat and boots as he went. Dabi was never big on grand displays of affection. And in his current state, that small show of acknowledgment may as well have been equivalent to a bear hug.

“I missed you.” You chirp back, undeterred by his gruff response. “How was the mission?”

“Long and shitty.” Came his terse reply as he strips off the rest of his clothes and grabs a towel from a nearby wall hook. “I need a fucking shower.”

He wraps the towel around his waist before he sets about searching for body wash and a first aid kit. Greedy eyes roam the plane of his toned torso, eager to touch the scarred and stapled flesh you’d spent many a night mapping out. Before joining the League, you’d never had an opinion one way or the other on touch or physical intimacy. You didn’t dislike it by any means; it was just something people did, fuck buddies or otherwise. But now that you’d shared a bed with Dabi, your perspective had changed. His rough touch was your drug of choice, intoxicating in all the best ways. And with him being gone for almost 72 hours? It was safe to say you were jonesing for a hit.

“Oooh, sounds like fun.” You purr, sprawling out on the mattress in a catlike stretch. “Want me to join you? I think we could use a little… quality time together.”

He snorts derisively at that, straightening up once he’d found his supplies and fixing you with a deep scowl. So pretty even when he’s pissed. You bat your eyelashes in return.

“Don’t get cute, dollface. Once I get cleaned up I’m passing out for the next century.”

Before you can shoot off another coquettish remark, he turns on his heel and marches out the door in the direction of the communal showers. You huff and clamber out of bed to follow him, determined that he wouldn’t get away so easily.

“C’mon Dabi!” You whine, trotting along behind him as he stalks down the hallway. “I haven’t seen you in days! Are you really just gonna give me the cold shoulder?”

“Yup.” He snaps back, shooting you a harsh glare over said shoulder before barging through the bathroom door. From the other side you can hear his bark of “Move it, psycho!” followed by an indignant squeak from whom you can only assume to be Toga. You huff and stamp your foot like a petulant child, turning on your heel to flounce off in the direction of the League’s bar front.

“Bastard.” You seethe under your breath, “Who does he think he is, ignoring me like that? It’s his fault I’m so pent up. If I tried ignoring him when he was all hot and bothered–!”

You pause for a moment as a lightbulb goes off in your head. A single impish thought flashes through your mind and it causes your lips to curl into a Cheshire grin. He wants to play games? You’ll give him games.

You continue your trek into the dimly-lit, woodpandeled speakeasy, a renewed vigor in your stride as you make a beeline for the bar top. Kurogiri is standing behind it as per usual, wiping out a pint glass like the faithful bartender he pretends to be. You sidle up to the bar and place both hands on the oaken surface, adopting a sweet, too-innocent lilt to your voice.

“Kuro-baby.” You purr, the cutesy pet name causing the misty specter to look up from his task. “Can I have a glass of water, please? With lots of ice, if you don’t mind.”

Wordlessly, Kurogiri sets down the glass and picks up a shorter one, using it to scoop up a generous portion of ice from the freezer below before filling it nearly to the brim from the tap. If he has any suspicion of you, he’s very good at hiding it. The same can’t be said for Shigaraki, sitting a few stools down from you and still tapping away at the buttons of his console.

“Fucking with Staples again?” He questions disinterestedly, followed by a hiss of annoyance when the game lets out a series of gunshots. He must have gotten himself killed again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shoot back airily, swiping the glass from Kurogiri’s outstretched hand and hopping off your own barstool.

“It’s your funeral!” He calls after you, waving you off with one hand. You snicker as you march back into the living quarters, one hand wrapped around the chilled glass and the other flattened over the top to ensure you won’t spill a drop along the way. Soon you find yourself back in front of the bathroom door and, suppressing the urge to giggle, you slowly push through it and into the steamy room beyond. In spite of the hideout’s outward appearance, the place is surprisingly clean and well-kempt (all thanks to den mother Kurogiri). Two sinks stand against the left-hand side of the wall, with two doors opposite them leading to the toilets. Next to the sinks are the showers: three open-faced, tile cubes barely covered by flimsy plastic curtains. Toga is standing in front of the nearest sink, wearing a skimpy pair of Hello Kitty pajamas and washing the blood and goop from her latest transformation out of her navy, pleated skirt. She looks up at you when you enter and you quickly put one finger to your lips, smirking as you point between the glass and the running shower beyond. Toga lets loose a sadistic giggle of her own before hastily shushing herself when you hear Dabi’s bark of “Pipe down out there!”

As you move past her, you can see her mouth the words, “You’re so dead, big sis.”

You can feel a jolt of adrenaline course through your veins as you sneak up to the edge of the tiled wall separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom, the glass in your hand shaking briefly. A small amount of water sloshes over the rim and spatters onto the floor, the sound barely overshadowed by the shower.

“Doll?”

His low, rumbling voice coming from the other side of the curtain sends another shiver down your spine.

“What are you up to out there?” He growls dangerously, as if he has a sixth sense when it comes to you and your shenanigans. For just a moment, the rational part of your brain takes over and makes you question your actions. Dabi’s already in a foul mood, and getting worse by the second by the sound of it. Maybe if you hold off and behave like a good girl–

Your body seems to move of its own accord. The next thing you know, the contents of the glass are sailing through the air, arching high over the plastic curtain rod and landing with a messy splat onto your unwitting victim on the other side.

“What the fu–!” Dabi’s curse is cut off by yours and Toga’s mad giggling as you sprint out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Passing by a very confused-looking Spinner, you dart inside Dabi’s room and slam the door, locking it for good measure. Seconds later, he’s pounding on it, using enough force that you’re convinced it might splinter and break off its hinges.

“Open this door right now and make this easier on yourself!” He roars, furiously jiggling the handle.

You let him pound away for a few more seconds, in part to allow yourself time to catch your breath but mostly to delay the unenviable punishment. With a deep, steadying breath, you plaster on a mildly amused expression, undo the lock, and pull open the door. Dabi is visibly seething, water dripping from his hair and cascading in rivulets down his toned chest onto the towel slung low on his hips. His brows are knitted together in rage, turquoise eyes flashing dangerously while one hand is still raised in a fist.

“Oh hey, babe. Done with the shower al–?”

His hands are around your throat before you can blink, your sassy remark devolving into a high-pitched squeak.

“You little bitch.” He spits at you, forcibly backing you further into the room as he advances. “Was that your idea of a joke?”

“N-no.” You gasp in response, voice slightly raspy from the pressure on your jugular. “I just thought–“

“Thought what exactly?” Dabi growls, kicking the door shut behind him with one foot before giving your shoulders a hard shove and pushing you onto the bed. You land with a slight bounce, the momentum giving you just enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Well?” He hisses, venom dripping from the word as he glares down at you.

“I was worried.” You start slowly, tone almost loving as you gaze up at him with big, doe eyes. “You seemed so tense when you got back. And don’t think I didn’t notice those new burns on your arms. So I thought, since the mission was so hard on you…”

Your face suddenly splits into a shit-eating grin.

“I thought you might need to cool down for a minute.”

Dabi blinks for a second, seemingly struck dumb by your remark. And then his hands are back on you in an instant, roughly flipping you over to lie chest-down with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Of all the stupid–“

Your shirt is ripped over your head from behind.

“Immature–“

There goes the bra, clasps and straps lost to a wildfire of blue flames as it falls away from your body in a charred heap.

“Bratty little schemes.”

Your leggings and panties are harshly yanked down, slipped off, and discarded into some unknown corner of the room. You feel cool air hit your legs and backside, moments before a harsh slap lands on your right cheek. With a yelp, you cast a wide-eyed glance over your shoulder at the menacing presence behind you; a pillar of rage and sadistic urges looming over your naked form.

“You wanted my attention that badly, dollface? Well I’m sorry to say you’ve got it now.”

Before you can react beyond a pained, needy whimper, Dabi hooks his right arm under your thighs to haul you up and onto the bed. He lays his full weight across your back and reaches around and underneath the farthest edge of the bed to produce a simple, black cuff, attached to the nylon spreader running along the underside of the mattress. Giving it a few cursory tugs, he grabs ahold of your right wrist and yanks it towards the corresponding corner, attaching the device with practiced speed and precision. You continue to writhe and pant below him, muttering a litany of curses and “no’s” as he does the same to the opposite side. You’re now bound by both wrists, unable to do more than thrash wildly on the mattress in a humiliating, spread eagle position.

“Seems like you need a reminder of who’s in charge around here.” He snarls in your ear, pushing himself off of you and marching over to his discarded pile of clothing. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric, followed by the telltale clink of metal on metal that makes your eyes go wide.

“Y-you wouldn’t dare…” You start breathlessly, just before the first blinding sting of leather greets your exposed skin, right at the juncture where the soft swell of your ass meets the tender flesh of your thighs.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Dabi says mockingly, his tone dripping with false pity and saccharine sweetness as he takes his place at the edge of the bed once more. “I don’t have any problems dealing with a mouthy… little… brat like you.”

His words are punctuated by three more vicious blows, this time striking the meatiest part of your ass and sending the pliant flesh jiggling. The metal rivets in his belt only add to the pain, biting into your rapidly heating flesh and causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. Shifting your hips in a futile attempt to get away from Dabi and his newfound torture device, you roll partly onto your side and look over at him with watery, pleading eyes.

“S-sir… Dabi, please!” You sputter out, voice already wavering as your resolve crumbles beneath the stinging sensation. But Dabi’s not in the mood for bargaining. Instead, he growls as he wraps an arm around your waist and shoves his left knee underneath your belly, hiking your ass further into the air.

“Hold still!” He barks at you, another crack of his belt sending a fresh wave of searing pain along your already raw skin. You scream in agony, unable to do more than wriggle and squirm against his hold.

“Start counting, brat.” He demands huskily, your only warning before the next punishing spank meets your burning flesh.

“One!” You gasp out, “I’m sorry! Please–!”

Another blow lands, somehow harder than all the others, revisiting the spot where ass and thigh meet and causing you to wail in pain.

“Too late for apologies, dollface. The only thing I wanna hear from that slutty little mouth is counting. Understand me?”

The arm looped around your waist tightens in warning, and you hiccup before sputtering out a shaky, “T-two.”

“That’s more like it.”

He continues spanking you at a steady pace, the only respite coming when he pauses to hear you choke out the next number. By ten strokes, you’re bawling. By fifteen, you’re practically brain dead, unable to quell the sobs that wrack through your body or think beyond the next count. He mercifully stops at twenty, dropping the belt and loosening his own grip on you. All you can focus on is the burning pain radiating out from your tanned backside, sobbing as you bury your face into the pillow below you for comfort. Dabi’s own breathing is heavy and ragged, and he takes a few deep, measured breaths to steady himself. After a few moments, that hand that once held his belt is carefully laid on the curve of your ass, and you gasp both at the gentle touch and the shock of prickly pain it brings. Judging by the way he strokes the heated flesh, you’re sure the silver eyelets have left a series of bruises behind.

“S-s-sir.” You blubber, “I’m... I…”

“Shhhh, quiet down.” He says softly, voice uncharacteristically tender as he runs his hand along the width of your heated cheeks. “It’s over now. You did so well.”

The unexpected praise makes you whimper beneath his affections, devolving into a quiet moan as his hand travels even lower, fingers coming to rest at the entrance to your heated core. He begins to gently massage at your folds, middle finger slipping inside to find you impossibly wet and clenching around the digit.

“You filthy little thing…” He breathes out on a chuckle, “Are you really that turned on by me beating the hell out of your cute little ass?”

His finger delves deeper, pussy eagerly sucking him in as you keen below him. His free hand begins to lightly scratch up and down your back, goosebumps rising in the wake of each careful caress. Without thinking, you shift further onto your knees, fighting through the pain to push against his hand.

“Please, Sir.” You moan wantonly, “More. Please.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi slips a second finger inside of you and begins to languidly pump them in and out. Pain and pleasure meld together in a sinful symphony, pants and whimpers coming from you as you rock your abused body against his own scarred flesh. He adjusts the angle and crooks his fingers downwards, curling them just shy of that sensitive bundle of nerves you know would have you seeing stars. Your back arches as you hungrily push against him, dignity forgotten in the face of pure, carnal desire.

“Getting impatient, are we?” He growls teasingly, fingers suddenly slipping out from your sopping core and wrenching a high-pitched whine from the back of your throat. He moves off the bed entirely, ordering you to stay put as he walks over to the nearby dresser and opens up the top drawer. Like the cuffs would allow you to do anything otherwise.

“Ah, here we go.” He says after a few seconds of rummaging, striding back over to the bed and taking up residence behind you. You feel the mattress dip under his weight seconds before his hands find your hips, roughly hauling them upwards and forcing your face further into the pillows. You shriek as he grabs ahold of your left cheek and squeezes harshly, pain shooting up your spine like a bolt of summer lightning. Something hard and cool prods at your quivering entrance, briefly brushing against your clit before being plunged inside of you. The sudden stretch feels at once too much and deeply satiating, sending burning, pleasurable heat licking across your oversensitized nerves. Once the toy is sunk to the hilt, Dabi gives a short grunt of satisfaction before sliding off the bed and circling around to lean over your quivering form. You turn your head to face him and he smirks at the sight of your fucked out expression: eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked with half-dried tears, lips swollen from the bluntness of your own teeth.

“Aren’t you a sight?” He hums lowly, brushing away an errant strand of hair to plant a condescending kiss to your temple. “Such a needy little slut for me.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi pats your cheek, straightens up, and turns towards the door.

“Wait!” You squeak out, squirming against your restraints as you watch his retreating back. “You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“That’s the plan, dollface.” He shoots back, casting you a wicked grin over his left shoulder as he pulls the door open. “At least until I finish my shower.”

#bnha #bnha x reader #dabi x reader #Dabi #mha smut #mha x reader #tw: noncon #tw: pain play

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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

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dance me to the end of love (iv)

word count: 4.1k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, alcohol consumption

series masterpost: here

a/n: my apologies for the delay!! life got crazy for a bit but i'm back with my two favourite idiot intellectuals

Magdalene stays busy to keep the loneliness at bay.

All of her friends have left Denver, doing whatever it is that hockey players and their partners do in the off-season. She never expected them to stay to keep her company, and would certainly never ask. Besides, they were all so excited to go home and visit family. How could she disrupt their happiness just so she wouldn’t feel so alone? It isn’t her fault that Ryan, Bette, and company aren’t estranged from their families like she is. At twenty-five she should be a little more self sufficient than what she currently is, but Magdalene is working hard at being kinder to herself.

To combat the pervasive loneliness Magdalene spends a lot of time in the heart of downtown Denver. Under normal circumstances she would hate the crowds, but now they comfort her. The swaths of tourists walking the streets and approaching her to take family photos make her feel like a part of something bigger than the pity she finds herself wallowing in often. Barn Owl Books also becomes a frequent retreat when she has downtime, and the owners enjoy when she brings Caligula around. Other patrons adore the white cat and he loves the attention.

One day as she’s leaving work, once again offering to stay late so June doesn’t have to, Magdalene’s phone rings. She contemplates not picking it up, wanting nothing more than to curl into bed with the novel she picked up at Barn Owl the other day, but she knows it must be important. No one ever calls her around this time unless it’s absolutely necessary. Digging the phone out of her pocket, she sees the number of her building superintendent Paul flashing on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Miss Stevenson?” he asks, voice tinged with the toughness that comes with dealing with upset renters on a regular basis.

Magdalene chuckles at the formality, pointing out he hasn’t called her by her last name since she moved in five years ago. “Yeah Paul, it’s me. What’s up?”

There’s the crackle of static on the phone line as the man clears his throat. “So, uh, some bad news.” Magdalene’s stomach twists into an intricate knot. She knows she paid rent on time and can’t think of another reason he’d call her. “A sprinkler main on the floor above yours burst about an hour ago, and it’s pretty bad. Your place definitely got hit the hardest because it’s directly under where the pipe burst. You’re going to have to move out for at least two months while we gut the place and start from scratch. How quickly can you come and get the things that are salvageable from your apartment?”

“Fuck.” This is the worst news Magdalene has ever received. “I can be there in fifteen minutes,” she panics, “But Paul, you’ve gotta go inside and check on my cat. He’s going to be freaking out.”

Paul agrees to visit Caligula after some prodding, and Magdalene drives much faster than she ever has before through the neighbourhood. It’s far from reckless, but she knows that it isn’t the safest course of action. A police officer stops her about three minutes from her final destination but lets Magdalene go after she explains the situation as calmly as possible.

Other tenants affected by the flood are already moving boxes down the stairs when Magdalene pulls up. Everyone is understandably grief stricken, but she can’t find it in herself to console them like she would under normal circumstances. All Magdalene cares about is making sure Caligula is okay. She sprints up the four flights of stairs and doesn’t even break a sweat, adrenaline flooding her veins. Her apartment door is ajar, most likely from Paul entering a few minutes ago, and she flings it open with more force than probably needed. It swings back violently on its hinges and makes a spectacular crash when it hits the wall.

“Caligula?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Paul sighs. “I can’t get him out of the tub but he’s still breathing. Is he not scared of water?”

Magdalene lets out a breath of relief she didn’t know she was holding in. She treads deeper into the apartment, casually assessing the damage, before reaching the room in question. There, pressed against the far corner of the tub, is the fluffy white cat that Magdalene’s heart beats for most days. Paul is there too, leaning against the sink and shaking his head.

“Thank you,” Magdalene says sincerely. “I’ve got it from here.”

The superintendent exits the unit with a solemn goodbye and heads to the lobby, no doubt going to direct traffic flow and answer questions. It takes a few minutes but Magdalene coaxes the cat out of the tub and into her arms. She holds him tightly and whispers words of praise, knowing it will help to calm them both down. After an uncounted amount of minutes Magdalene moves them into the bedroom, that looks surprisingly intact upon first glance, and changes out of her work clothes and into something more suitable for rummaging around her destroyed home. Caligula climbs up her body and settles gingerly into the hood on her sweatshirt. She starts in the bedroom, and finds that the only thing that’s actually salvageable is the clothes in her closet. Grabbing the suitcase from the top shelf, Magdalene shoves everything inside of it and wheels it into the living room.

She spends the next few hours going through every room in a meticulous manner, desperate to keep relics from her life in Denver. The water did a number on her space and destroyed almost everything. All the furniture is a write-off, and most of her books and records are ruined. Two things that withstood the damage are faux marble busts of Augustus and Marcus Aurelius, which Magdalene packs into one of the boxes Paul dropped off. Everything else fits in three other boxes and they’re tucked into the trunk of her car before the sun sets. Paul insists that the demolition company will get rid of everything else and ensures her she won’t have to pay rent while the construction is going on. It isn’t much of a consultation, considering that Magdalene has no idea where she’ll be staying, but she thanks him anyways as she makes the final trip to her car with Caligula.

Once inside, Magdalene breaks down. She has no idea what to do – no one is in Denver to help her out and she can’t afford to stay in a hotel for however many months this is going to take to fix. Tyson and Bette will be back in just over a month, but Magdalene doesn’t want to bother them or guilt them into coming back early. She cries in the driver’s seat of her car for a while, Caligula on her lap and doing his best to lick up the tears streaming down her cheeks. Not knowing what else to do, she dials Ryan’s number. Though they haven’t been talking as frequently due to the time difference and Magdalene’s insistence he enjoys his time with family, she knows he’ll pick up and listen intently. He’ll also hopefully talk her down from the imaginary ledge she’s found herself on.

He picks up on the second ring. “How’s my favourite girl?” Ryan asks, and Magdalene can hear the smile in his voice. The combination of his voice and the words spoken has her choking on another sob. “Hey, hey, breathe.” Concern is now the primary emotion expressed through the phone line. “Mags, what’s the matter?”

It takes her a few seconds and multiple pads of Caligula’s paws into her stomach for Magdalene to calm down, but she eventually tells Ryan what happened. He listens just as she thought he would, and keeps her breathing steady with his voice. She cries a bit more before running out of tears, but Ryan keeps her focussed on anything but the shitty circumstance she’s found herself victim to – detailing how he skated with Nate earlier in the day and just how many times his teammate kicked his ass. Hearing the mundane story helps more than Magdalene thought it would, and when Ryan asks her where she’s going to stay she responds with a relatively strong voice.

“I’m just going to sleep in my car.”

“Fuck no you aren’t.” The certainty in which Ryan utters the words takes Magdalene by surprise. For someone so far away, he has a lot of opinions on what she should be doing.

She sighs. “There isn’t another option Ry. I can’t afford a hotel for the months my apartment is going to be out of commission and there’s no point in renting another place.”

“Stay with me.”

A series of flabbergasted noises come out of Magdalene’s dropped jaw, but she can’t form any words. Ryan continues, “Think about Caligula. Being cramped in a car isn’t going to be good for him. Or for you. I have an extra bedroom you can call your own for as long as you need. Please Mags.”

Truthfully, it’s the best she’s going to get. Bette and Tyson offered to house a couple of rookies this season, meaning their spare rooms are filled, and there’s no one else she’s close enough with to think about asking. “I don’t want to intrude,” she sighs, but it isn’t a very convincing deflection.

“I want you there,” Ryan insists, “And little boots too.”

It takes them a while to work out the logistics, but Ryan makes a couple of calls and lets the doorman of his building know Magdalene is moving in. He also books a flight for the next day, and ensures her that he’s more than ready to come back to Colorado. They talk for a few more minutes, and in that time she gets directions to her temporary home. Once Ryan hangs up with well wishes and a see-you-soon, Magdalene looks in her rear-view mirror and sets out for a part of Denver she never thought she’d live in.

☼☼☼☼

When Magdalene calls Bette to fill her in on what’s been going on while on the way to pick Ryan up from the airport, the blonde is taken aback by the surplus of information. “Hold on,” she breathes, “Ryan’s coming back to Denver?”

“What part of ‘I’m on my way to the airport to pick up Ryan’ was confusing?” Magdalene laughs.

Her friend doesn’t find the jest funny. “Fuck off.” The comment only increases Magdalene’s laughter, but Bette forges on with the conversation. “Can you recap the events that led to Ryan leaving home nearly three weeks early?”

Magdalene indulges her friend, explaining for what feels like the hundredth time that her apartment was destroyed in a flood and that Ryan offered her his spare bedroom and that he was coming home so she wouldn’t be alone in the unfamiliar environment. Bette listens in silence, and Magdalene imagines she has a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She’s made quite a few comments about how friendly the two of them seem, but Magdalene does her best to shrug them off. Ryan can just be her friend, a great one even, without Bette projecting her need to have her best friend to have an identical lifestyle to her. Even if she’s right, and Magdalene does want there to be something more between her and Ryan.

“Hold the phone.” Magdalene hears Tyson shout, no doubt getting closer to his girlfriend so he can join in on the conversation. “Gravy’s letting you stay at his place?”

“Yeah…” she trails off, unsure about what wasn’t clear this time.

Tyson hums as though he’s an old-school anthropologist who just made an astute observation about the group they’re studying. “Interesting.”

“How so?”

“Well for starters, he barely lets us hang out at his place,” Tyson explains. “I think I’ve been there maybe twice. So that’s new. Is Caligula staying with you?”

Magdalene is completely confused. “Why wouldn’t he be? He’s my cat.”

“How does Gravy feel about it?”

“What the fuck are you getting at Tys?” Magdalene asks, but there’s a bite to the question. She’s tired of the impromptu interrogation he’s providing. “Because Ryan was excited to have him around. Last night I sent him a video of little boots prancing around the condo like he owned the place and he thought it was hilarious.”

Bette, who had been silent for several minutes, gasps loudly. Tyson laughs, but Magdalene can tell it’s riddled with disbelief. “Mags,” he says gently, though with more than enough teasing laced in, “Gravy isn’t a big pet guy.”

The comment hits Magdalene like a tonne of bricks. What is she supposed to do with that information? There’s only ten more minutes until she gets to the airport, and she needs time to push Tyson’s comment to the back of her brain and collect herself. Magdalene gives a rushed farewell before hanging up the phone and checking her rearview mirror and blindspots. The radio filters back through the car speakers, but she doesn’t hear it, too caught up in what Ryan allowing Caligula to share his space means. There’s little traffic on the off-ramp and before she knows it Magdalene is pulling into a parking space and killing the engine.

She grabs the messily scribbled welcome home banner from the back seat before locking the doors and heading inside to the arrivals section. The inside of the airport looks similar to the empty parking lot – it’s a Tuesday after all. Only a few others wait with her for the plane, and many chat idly amongst themselves. Magdalene stays off to the side in an attempt to not get sucked into a conversation about the upcoming thunderstorm. Passengers slowly trickle through the open door, and Ryan is easy to spot. He towers above everyone and is carrying a rather large bag of hockey equipment. Magdalene smiles at the sight of him, unable to help herself. It’s been nearly a month and a half since she’s seen him and being apart for that long is something she never wants to do again.

“Hi,” she breathes as he approaches, waving awkwardly while she speaks. It’s as though she hasn’t spent countless hours talking with him about every possible topic her mind could dream up.

Ryan doesn’t feel the tension, or if he does he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wraps her in a tight hug that lasts a touch longer than one with just a friend should, especially in public. Magdalene tries hard not to melt into his side but it’s nearly impossible – Ryan has a magnetic pull that tugs on her heartstrings and makes her insides feel fuzzy. Others bustling around the terminal start to give them strange looks, and it’s only then that Ryan clears his throat and untangles his arms from Magdalene’s waist.

He smiles down at the strong-willed brunette with kind eyes and shoulders his bag once more. “Let’s go home.”

☼☼☼☼

It takes a few days to settle into a routine, but once they do it’s glorious. Training camp doesn’t start for another three weeks, so Ryan spends his day doing light workouts and chilling with Caligula while Magdalene is at work. Once she gets home they make dinner and watch West Wing reruns on the cable network Ryan didn’t know he was even paying for. Their lives fit together seamlessly and it surprises Magdalene just how much she missed having a roommate – Bette moved out after their sophomore year of college, and it’s been just her and Caligula ever since. Though the personal space is nice, she likes being able to hear Ryan laugh at the meme she just sent or knocking on his door in the middle of night to ask if he wants ice cream.

Magdalene wakes up one Saturday to complete silence. It’s unsettling considering she hasn’t heard that since adopting her pet – Caligula sleeps next to her head and breathes loud enough that she’ll never have to buy a white noise machine. She notices her door is slightly ajar and hears soft noises coming from the living room. Ryan must be taking a day off, Magdalene notes, because he’s typically out of the house by seven and it’s currently five minutes past eight. She rolls out of bed and stumbles into the ensuite, brushing the tangles out of her hair and washing her face.

Not bothering to change out the pyjama pants and hoodie she stole from Ryan, Magdalene pads into the sunlit living room to see her roommate doing yoga. On a tiny mat beside him is Caligula, stretching his limbs like he’s following along with the tutorial. The sight is adorable, and before she can think twice about it Magdalene is snapping a photo of the two of them and posting it to her Instagram story.

“You trying to whip my cat into shape Graves?” Magdalene teases, weaving around them and plopping onto the couch, bringing her knees to her chin and holding in a yawn.

Ryan laughs, loud and care-free, and Magdalene wishes he could record the sound and play it on loop. “He kept trying to sit underneath me and I didn’t want to hurt him. I read somewhere that if you give a cat something similar to what you’re doing they’ll leave you alone. Guess it really works.”

Her heart constricts in the best way possible. Ryan continues to go above and beyond to make her and Caligula welcome and doesn’t seem to mind they’re the ones invading his space and not the other way around. There’s still twenty minutes left on the YouTube video he’s watching, so Magdalene pushes herself off the expensive leather sectional and into the kitchen. The least she could do is make breakfast. Deciding on pancakes, Magdalene gets to work prepping the batter and warming up the frying pan. She hums absentmindedly to the Joni Mitchell song playing on the small radio she placed in the kitchen window. Music always made cooking more enjoyable for her, and Ryan doesn’t seem to mind the device taking up space.

The island is set and the food ready by the time Ryan slides into his seat, small beads of sweat lingering on his forehead from the workout. Magdalene resists the urge to wipe them away and instead busies herself with placing the right amount of berries on his plate.

“Mags,” Ryan calls softly, pulling her out of her mind and back down to Earth. “That’s more than enough. Sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

They eat in silence until Caligula appears, meowing for whatever scraps he can get his hands on. Against Magdalene’s pleas Ryan feeds him a blueberry. The cat sniffs it inquisitively before swallowing it, though it comes up again a few moments later.

“You’re cleaning that one up bud,” she laughs, bending down to make sure Caligula is okay before rinsing her plate in the sink.

“Fuck.”

Ryan does as he’s told and helps Magdalene with the dishes before getting ready to head out for an unofficial team meeting. Camp starts in a few days and Gabe wants to get together and make sure they’re all on the same page before barreling head-first into the season. He promises to pick them up a late lunch of sandwiches from Barn Owl and Magdalene follows him to the door to say goodbye. It feels natural, like they’ve always shared this routine, and she knows that Ryan feels it too because he wraps her in a tight hug before petting Caligula one last time and slipping out the door.

Bette calls soon after he leaves and grills Magdalene on all the details of her new living arrangement. She’s still in Canada, spending a few more days there than Tyson to help his mom and sister finish unpacking their things at the house they recently purchased.

“So, have you kissed him yet?”

The question is asked in such a casual, Bette-like manner that Magdalene barely chokes on her water. “Bee, what the fuck?”

“Oh come off it Mags,” she sighs, “You like him. He likes you. The two of you live together now. It’s only a matter of time before the friendship turns into something more.”

The blonde is right about at least one thing – Magdalene has developed a steady crush on Ryan. She should have known being in such close proximity to him all the time would put her feelings into overdrive. However, she didn’t have another option other than to accept his offer when it was proposed nearly a month ago, so Magdalene is now being forced to deal with the repercussions.

“I have, in fact, not kissed Ryan,” Magdalene huffs. “But I’ve thought about it once or twice.”

A squeal tears from Bette’s throat and she forces her friend to share the details. Magdalene obliges mostly to get her off her back, but it does feel good to talk about it with someone. It’s a very long time since she’s had romantic feelings for anyone, and Magdalene is nearly giddy with excitement over the possibility of new-found love by the time Ryan gets home. She says farewell to Bette and promises to come over as soon as they're both in the same city again.

It’s later than both of them expected, so they decide to forgo lunch and instead cook an early dinner. Ryan wants chicken and Magdalene wants spaghetti, so naturally they compromise on a carbonara without the pork. The radio is cranked to the highest volume as they work, both singing along and in their own little worlds. Magdalene is in charge of cooking the pasta and Ryan sets about making the sauce, and more than once she catches him looking at her while he’s supposed to be stirring the mixture. She can’t be too mad, however, because each time their eyes meet she’s supposed to be doing her job too. Before too much time has passed the meal is ready. It cools on two plates while Caligula is fed and wine is poured – the former done by Magdalene because the cat still isn’t quite comfortable enough with Ryan. Once sitting, they raise their glasses in a silent toast and dig in. The pasta tastes heavenly, and Magdalene makes sure to say so.

“Oh my god this is delicious,” she nearly moans, “You have to make this like every night.”

Ryan laughs and raises his fingers in mock salute. “You got it boss.”

Conversation flows into how they spent their hours apart – Ryan gushing about how good it was to see his teammates again and Magdalene talking about how she caught up with Bette on the phone. She of course left out the part where she confessed feelings for her best friend to her other, more senior best friend. Dinner passes in the blink of an eye and soon the two of them are standing side by side at the sink, elbows knocking occasionally as they do the dishes.

“Want to watch a movie tonight?” Ryan asks nonchalantly. “You said earlier this week you wanted to see Clueless again.”

Magdalene smiles – of course he would remember this offhand comment she made a few days ago about the classic. “That sounds fantastic. Can you finish putting these away? I’m going to pop a couple blankets in the dryer to warm up and see if I can get a nice picture of the sunset for Bette, she mentioned on the phone that she’s missing it.”

“She literally hasn’t changed time zones!”

Laughter tumbles from Magdalene’s lips as she slips out of the kitchen. Two fluffy blankets are pulled from the back of the couch on her way down the hall and tossed into the machine. Grabbing the same sweater of Ryan’s she was wearing earlier in the day from the foot of her bed, Magdalene heads for the balcony door and slips through the glass.

The city is nearly silent. Cars pass under Ryan’s balcony like blips in the night, but they don’t dare touch the peaceful atmosphere radiating from Magdalene. She’s had one of the best nights of her life, just her and Ryan laughing over glasses of wine and the pasta dish they cooked together. It’s all so domestic and charged with stolen glances and soft smiles that Magdalene knows it’s more than two friends living together for a short period of time. There’s been a fundamental shift in their relationship but she doesn’t know how to address it, or if she even wants to despite her looming attraction. Being with Ryan is so easy that she forgets it’s only temporary. Realistically she knows it can’t last forever, but she finds herself hoping each day Paul will call and tell her the rebuild is taking longer than expected.

Ryan calls her inside, informing her the blankets are out of the dryer and the movie she picked out days ago is queued up on the television. Magdalene takes a deep breath and finishes her glass of wine in one gulp. Hopefully he won’t notice when she casually leans in and rests her head on his shoulder halfway through the film.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 @denis-scorianov @danglesnipecelly @c-tangerine @stormingroses @spine-buster (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

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iminaworldofpureimagination · 1 year ago

Text

I can list my issues with it easily

Not acknowledging Ana assaulting Bojack/or that he was her victim. now bojack wouldn't probably think this but i hate how its handled as its his fault and its a bit spooky how she helped convince him to fire his best friend of 20 years bojackgainsomeconfidence standupforyourfriend

Acting like the audience is too dense to not realize that bojack is a shitty dude/focusing too much on the idiots that don't see bj as a bad guy that just caused ugh writing in s6

I'm not a big fan on how they basically ignore how his childhood trauma affected him in his adult life cause yes he needs accountability esp for Penny/Gina/ but so much of that trauma and his personality is woven into him that the guy just needs not just a therapist who wont rat him out but a Life Coach telling him hes a POS is useless and just always made him spiral in the end i also felt that there were certain woman who did hold power over bojack and the show just ignores it (ana) or goes acutally angela had no choice in the matter and was bluffing the show def has some double standards with the genders ..

Not a fan of how Bojack is happier in prison either its great that he found some happiness as a teacher there but its stil PRISON and prison sucks

Genuinely believing that bjhm is a perfect show is such a red flag. I'm 100% serious.

#bojack horseman #feel free to disagree on any of these just my thoughts xd

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sukirichi · 3 years ago

Text

— 💌 ; a love letter from @kyriaan

long post below regarding broken records. cw includes adultery, physical assault, toxic relationships, broken records spoilers, and mature content

[ from the ask ] BROKEN RECORDS ; track 005

Okay! I finally had time to actually sit down and properly read chap 5 cause ill be damned and burned if i dont pay special attention to one of my favorite series here! Rather drown or be sting by bees slowly 😒

🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙃 I for the first time don't even know where to start so allow me to be all over the place cause my emotions are also all over the place with this chapter ✌️

Ill start by y/n's dad caN GO FUCK HIMSELF? Like okay sir you might have fallen in love with our mom (ill give him the benefit of the doubt regarding his feelings) BUT SIR YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN HONEST? FROM THE BEGINNING? ALSO BRUH YOU KIDDING ME??? SIR YOU LEGIT ABANDONED YOUR OTHER DAUGHTER AND THEN YOU PROCESS TO 'LEAVE US' I- YOOOOO I WOULD BITCH SLAP HIM I SWEAR!!

Also ALSO ILL SCREAM FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK NO KID HAS EVER TO BE BLAMED FOR BEING BORN!! Y/n mom's line: 'we have to atone for our sins' its legit BULLSHIT it wad NOT y/n fault her DAD COULDNT KEEP HIS DICK INSIDE HIS PANTS NOR ITS Y/N FAULT THAT HER DAD CHEATED!!! ATONE FOR OUR SINS MY ASS!! the father is the one that has to take responsibility for all this shitty situation we do NOT nor any kid out there in this situation has to be taken accountable by this!!

And now Suna 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 bruh im just gonna cry... Everything he does just makes me heart swell i feel so cozy when i read his parts like how sweet and present he is I- bruh I never had that... Actually seeing y/n breaking up with him when shes clearly falling in love with him just breaks me cause Girl for real Suna would be there for you... I get it shes afraid and shes acting on that fear but girl... Pls he truly loves you deeply not everyone is like your dad. There are happy endings. There are good people Sunas one of them pls 🥺🥺🥺 also MY LOVE TSUMU BEING A SUPPORTIVE FRIEND EVEN THO SUNA GOT THE GIRL BRUH TSUMU I FUCKING LOVE YOU MY CHILDISH YET ADORABLY SMUG BOY 😭😭😭😭😭

Nagisas a bitch btw ✌️ so far i see no redemption not excuse in what she did so far. I get her reasons but that does NOT excuse her behavior. She has to lash out at her cunt of a dad not at a innocent woman who was also a victim all along. Nor even her half sister. I get her mentality behind this but doesnt excuse her behavior at all- its basically the same as being a victim from a bully and playing bully after aswell.

Overall YOU MADE ME CRY AGAIN SUKI! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS BUT ALSO UGH MY HEART SUKI!

[ from suki ]

BROKEN RECORDS IS UR FAVE SERIES??? babe pls you’re gonna me cry !! nah nah fr his dishonesty caused all this mess. YEAHA SAKLAA tbh I love mama lucy but her words of ‘atoning for their sins’ or her mindset of ‘we don’t deserve to be happy when we’ve hurt others’ really messed up YN. she was only 21 and vulnerable with all the shambles happening in her family + the sudden assault from nagisa, that when her mother said those words, she struggled to let go of it. to her, it became like a final verdict that dictated how she lived her life.

SUNA URGHHH PLEASE GIVE SUNA A CHANCE HE HAS PURE AND GOOD INTENTIONS BUT I CANT BLAME HER EITHER AHSJAKA. and the comparison of nagisa being a bully’s victim only to become the next bully is true. nagisa should lash out at their shitty excuse of a father. ALSO AAAAHH THE NEXT CHAPTER (007) IS WORSE AHSJKAAL

[ from the ask ] BROKEN RECORDS ; track 005

I know shins attractive I mean mans perfect?? Does he even have any flaw?? And the way he cried when he got his jersey MYGOD FHDHFHFJSKS but I still look at him and im like.... Hmmmm nah i wouldnt date him its just not my... Do i dare say type? Cause i dont think i have a type ghfhfisofbd but like I just 🧍‍♀️

I love him i just dont love him i guess

The makeout scene tho ill give you that 🥵🥵🥵 made me bark (i would still walk out next day like was a good fuck kita byeeee🚉🏃‍♀️💨)

... More drama regarding mari... And you said this will have like 10 chapters... And from 8 on will be angsty.... 🙂 *traumatized noises*

[ from suki ]

YUUHHH KITA IS PERFECT HERE AHSJKAA IDK MAYBE ITS MY SIMPING FOR NAOYA CONVERTED TO KITA ALREADY BEING PERFECT AS HE ALREADY IS AND I AMPED IT UP BCOS THE SIMP MODE IS ACTIVATED AHSKAA. the make out scene !! pls sir i’m on my knees spare some love in ur heart AAAAAAHHHHHH. also. i assure you. businessman! kita got game. he’s gonna make you walk funny if you give him the chance HSJKA

yeah i just finished writing the outline for track7 right now and the drama is HSJKAA it gave me a headache sobs

[ from the ask ] BROKEN RECORDS ; track 006

I want to give you my usual thoughts on the new chapter and at the same ahm...

I just saw myself on Suna... Deeply....and it kinda slapped me harder than i was expecting...there were too many things from him giving himself to mari/treating her like he wants to be treated... To deleting his best friend from social media thanks to his girlfriend... And it really hurt me ahah..

I would vent but.. Yeah

But yes this chapter i saw myself in suna and i had to take quite the long breaks cause it was getting to me 😅😅😅 also if anything i learned from my experiences is that MARI SCREAMS RED FLAGS and even Osamu can see that pls

I would honestly end Mari there, i wouldnt even bother to just retort i would walk my way into to the damn apartment and fucking take Suna for myself cause Mari does not deserve him. Shes manipulative, and in a way abusive.. Not allowing him to keep contact with his best friend his a total redflag and o know its because Suna had feelings for y/n and vice versa but Suna never gave het a reason to distrust him.

The moment he said he was best friends with y/n and was single she immediately clinged himself to him and for what? To then dump him like he was trash...

He gave himself to her, he proved he was there for her he even took her back this boy deserves the fucking world and its not Mari...

I kinda want to say it's not y/n at this point either cause the way she broke his heart was kinda the same Mari did.. Y/n disregarded his feelings and just broke it up.. Mari disregarded his feelings abd broke it up... But y/n stated from the very beginning that she would eventually break up Mari just shrugged and didn't care so i can in a way forgive y/n i cant forgive mari

Besides y/n was supportive from the beginning while Mari was obsessive and controlling.

Another really insanely well written chapter as usual (albeit this one making me ball my eyes off harder because yeah) but yes~ eagerly waiting for the next one~

Take your time tho 😌🙌

Mari can go fuck off 💗💓💞💕❣️❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍💯💝💖💋💅

Suna x y/n pls

Y/n deserves to have a healthy love life with someone she loves (hence why npt Kita) and loves her back

And Suna deserve the fucking world and be treated right

[ from suki ]

NAHHHH cuz when you said suna was treating mari the way he wanted YN to treat her... that’s right. on point. they’re all so complicated sobs. MARI IS A WALKING RED FLAG THAT OSAMU CAN SMELL FROM A MILE AWAY. ALSO yes mari is manipulative and borderline possessive when it came to suna. like yeah, let’s be real, she could tell a long time ago that suna was in love with YN and it made her insecure / jealous, but the whole time, YN kept her distance. she was supportive over their relationship from afar as to make mari comfortable. suna also did everything he could to make sure she was well cared for. for three years, he was focused on her and only her. he gave love a second chance despite being brokenhearted. suna never mari a chance to doubt because he, too, was sure he could be happy with her.

until mari left him.

and now suna is back with YN because they will always have each other. but honestly,,,if we think about it, if mari never broke up with suna or at least gave him the chance to explain himself - if mari didn’t do the exact thing YN did to suna years ago - he honestly would’ve been really happy with mari. they were going well. like yeah mari has always been toxic by pushing suna’s boundaries and asking him to unfollow his own best friend on social media, but he did it anyway. because he trusted their relationship. he wanted the best for them.

also yeah, the parallels between mari and YN were intentional !!

HEHEHEHE THE KITA X YN SHIP everyone loves them im so happy about that bcos kita is so amazing in my eyes. PREACH FOR THAT THO !! SUNA DESERVES THE BEST. SUNA DESERVES TO BE TREATED RIGHT. HE DESERVES THE WORLD AND SO MUCH MORE

thank you for taking the time to send me this, kya, it means a lot to me and it motivates me to work harder on the future chapters !! <33

#asks with naoya's trophy wife #besties #series ( broken records )#tw: physical assault #tw: toxic #tw: toxic relationships #tw: adultery

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