#like exhausted and like someone has used me as a punching bag

[madegeeky]

Apparently my brain has just decided it's done with everything and has decided it's time for a stay-at-home vacation. Like, it's there but it's not answering any work calls. And I think it's smoking pot but, like, without me which is a weird sensation.

Anyway, what all this means is after 7 days of shit sleep I appear to have gone past exhausted into something that, I imagine, is similar to the way one feels when high. I'm also feeling my personal brand of manic: bad typing (y'all, this post took me so much longer than it should have) and talking too fast, too loud, too much. And I keep feeling I'm opening my eyes too wide but I can't tell of that's actually true or not. And, I don't know of any other way to explain it, but I feel dizzy but without actually being dizzy.

In a weird fucking place today, friends.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Perfect Life || CL16 {2}

Summary: Charles finally gets to see the person his brother was proud to call his best friend, and in doing so realises he has some amendments to make. Warnings: angst, swearing, sarcasm WC: 2.4k

One || Two || Three

It was foolish to think the Leclerc’s would just leave you alone. It wasn’t so much of a surprise that Arthur stopped your door from closing but you did frown when his brother followed him inside your humble abode. 

It was dim inside, with only shafts of starlight coming in from the missing tiles above. You walked blindly through the sparse furniture to the fuse box and pulled the lever down, flooding the room with flickering fluorescent light. “Not quite up to your standard?” you challenged Charles with a daring arch of your brow. 

Arthur detoured to the small alcove that was once the factory staff room kitchen and grabbed two beers from the fridge that whined loudly to maintain its temperature. You immediately pressed your bottle to your cheek and moaned as the cold seeped into the bruised skin. Letting the makeshift ice pack do its job, you dropped onto the couch, avoiding the wayward springs that jutted out and tried to snag your clothes, and watched Charles walk around the cavernous room.

“This place is a dump,” he stated. He inspected the bed that consisted of a mattress thrown over pallets that had been abandoned inside the factory before eying up the punching bag that hung from the open rafters. 

“If you’re only staying to insult me, just go.” The exhaustion in your voice came from deep inside your soul and even Charles paused at the sound. 

You hated how he turned his inspection on to you instead. His eyes followed the length of your legs and you tucked your knees up under the hoodie, but then he finally noticed you had been barefoot the entire night. 

“Pack your shit, let’s go.”

You closed your eyes and tipped your head onto Arthur’s shoulder. “I liked him more when he ignored me.”

“I’m not going to tell you again,” Charles growled as he swiped your beer bottle from your face. 

“Charles, have you ever been beaten unconscious?”

“No.”

“Unless you want to find out how it feels, give me my fucking beer back.” You didn’t even open your eyes to see if the threat was taken seriously but then the cold touch of the bottle in your palm was an answer enough. “Thank you.”

“You can’t stay here,” he said calmly. “Pack your things, or I can buy whatever you need in Monaco.”

“I am not marrying you.” The beer was cheap and left a bitter aftertaste but you used it to smother the hot anger that was quickly starting to bubble in your gut. “Twenty minutes ago you would have let me risk being mugged while I walked home and probably asked for popcorn too while you watched.”

The old recliner you found at a secondhand store squeaked under Charles’ weight as he took a seat and said, “I don’t like popcorn.” You cracked an eye open to see amusement gracing on his face. “I also picked you up, didn’t I?”

“Wow, pick a girl up once and expect her to marry you.” 

Arthur snorted a laugh. “I offered first.”

“Maybe you two can fight it out for my hand.” Sarcasm dripped from your lips as you tipped your head to Charles. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you land on your ass again.”

“It was a cheap shot.”

“Are you gonna let him disrespect you like that?” you asked as you nudged your friend. 

“I’m not hitting him again,” Arthur grumbled. “It really hurt.”

“Oh, so not out of concern for me, thanks little brother.”

“She did warn you to shut up but you had to keep running your mouth.” Arthur looked at his brother’s lip but it wasn’t all that swollen thankfully. “Please don’t tell ma.”

“I can do your makeup,” you offered to Charles with a smirk. “I’m actually pretty good at covering up bruises now.”

Charles' eyes turned down and he shook his head as he felt guilty for how he had treated you over the years. 

“I don’t want your fucking pity,” you snapped. “Stop looking like someone kicked your puppy.”

An awkward silence grew until you growled in the back of your throat and rose from the couch. “Tur, can you lock up when you leave?”

“Where are you going?”

You made your way to the ‘bedroom’ and pulled on a pair of riding leathers, not bothering with the jacket since you were comfortable and warm in the hoodie. “Home. I have to get ready for a charity brunch in Marseille.” 

Charles watched curiously as you unlocked a thick padlock to what he thought was just a storage locker. Those green eyes widened when you swung your leg over the seat of the sleek Honda motorbike and grabbed your helmet that hung on the handlebars. 

“You let her ride that?” 

Arthur shrugged and finished his beer. “One: I’m not her keeper. Two: she has a licence. And three: you’re an idiot if you think anyone has a say in what she does.”

“You’re her friend, you should stop her from getting herself killed.”

“I am right here,” you reminded him. “I love the vote of confidence you have in me, by the way, really endearing.”

Whatever he was about to say was silenced when you clicked the remote for the roller door, kicked the bike stand back and turned the ignition on. The roar of the engine was deafening in the space and you slapped the shade down on your helmet before shooting out of your sanctuary. 

“We have a lot to talk about,” Charles warned his brother. 

Arthur nodded as he got up and dropped his empty bottle into the recycling bin. “Yeah, I figured that. Let me just lock up real quick then we can go.”

Charles watched as Arthur walked around the room like it was a routine chore he was used to doing. He hit the button on the wall to close the roller door before checking the windows were locked. He turned the phone charger off beside her bed and slipped the cash he had in his wallet under her pillow. 

“She won’t accept it otherwise,” he said over her shoulder. “She doesn’t want charity, Cha. Your plan isn’t going to work unless you change your approach.”

“What do you mean?”

“Offering to buy her things. She won’t take it. Everything here was earned the hard way, independently.”

Arthur could see Charles was absorbing the information and already a plan was forming in his mind. 

—

“You look beautiful.”

The stem of the champagne flute in your fingers was nearly snapped when Charles startled you and you turned to find him in a tailored suit, the jacket left unbuttoned. “What are you doing here?”

“There aren’t that many charity events in Marseille today. I thought I would make an appearance, it’s good for the image.”

“What a humble philanthropist you are,” you said with a roll of your eyes while he scanned your face for any sign of the bruising from the night before. “Told you I was good.”

“You could be a professional.” 

A waiter passed by and you swapped your empty flute for a full one while Charles grabbed one of his own. Already you could see the inquisitive looks cast in your direction and knew they would only grow the longer Charles spoke to you. Not wanting to be the focus of the gossip mill you took a step away from him, ready to make your escape.

“I have a proposal.”

“Christ, not this again.” You stepped toe to toe with him so as not to be overheard when you hissed. “I’m not marrying you.”

“Not that kind of proposal,” he chuckled. “Arthur tells me you are quite good at fighting.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wondering where he was going with it, but nodded confidently. “I am.”

“I have a team of security, but they struggle with the female fans when they get a bit too aggressive.”

“You think having a woman throw them down is more…polite?”

He winced and shook his head but it wasn’t very convincing. “I hope it doesn’t come to that but the guys aren’t very comfortable with the idea.”

“You do realise my father is never going to let me leave Nice to work for you, right? That would not fit the image of his social standing.”

“I know. Now before you shut it down completely, just hear me out.” He paused and you immediately knew you were going to regret even listening to him. “You work for me, secretly, but we tell your father we are engaged.”

“No, no, absolutely not,” you hissed. “Argh, you said this wasn’t a proposal.”

“It’s not, well, it’s a fake one so there’s no suspicion why you are always with me. No one will know you work for me, but I’ll pay you well. You can have new bank accounts in your name that your father can’t access. When you have saved up enough money to live on your own then we can break off the engagement and you will have your freedom.”

“I-”

“Don’t give me an answer now, just think about it, okay?”

You turned on your heel and left the stately rooftop garden. The sun was suddenly too warm and the laughter of conversation seemed to mock you personally as you passed by. It would only be a matter of minutes before your father’s assistant came looking for you but you would take every second of freedom that could. 

You got exactly 97 seconds before the bathroom door swung open and Veronica sighed. “You don’t have a scheduled bathroom break until 11.”

“Too much bubbly,” you lied as you tossed the damp hand towel into the basket. It hadn’t even helped to cool your burning neck so you mentally pulled yourself back together and followed the wretched human back out to the event.

Veronica clasped her personalised diary full of notes behind her back as she nodded her head to a portly man ahead. “Mr Henri Cartier, two sons, wife - Charisse, $3 billion profit.”

You plastered a smile back on your face and approached with all the confidence that your father had trained you to fake. “Mr Cartier, how lovely to see you again. How is Charisse? It is a shame she can’t be here today.”

You zoned out as he started to recall how his wife had flown to London in their Lear as their sons had an important polo match. Cambridge versus Oxford, naturally. It obviously wasn’t important enough since he would rather be shaking hands with this lot instead of watching the game. “…the King himself will be there.”

“Ah, but this is France, we have no King,” you teased. “We take care of our own people. Now, a little birdy told me your business had a remarkable turnover this quarter. I hope to see a reflection of that in your donation.”

The Forbes billionaire laughed haughtily. “Of course, my dear. What else would I do with all the excess?”

You opened your mouth to list off all the other purchases he would rather spend his money on but a slick voice eased into the conversation.

“How many superyachts can one man own?” your father asked. “I’ll tell you, Henri, it’s the same thing I say when my wife makes her famous cannoli - there’s always room for one more.”

The two men laughed way harder than the joke called for, but the real joke was the fact that your mother had never stepped foot in a kitchen. 

“It’s a wonder your charity survives with that advice,” you said as you took a step back and let them pick out the shortcomings of their children, and your entire generation, together. You pretended that you didn’t hear them and let the passive blank face fall into place until a hand took yours and pulled you away.

Veronica’s hand lifted to alert your father to your absence but you took the rescue that Charles offered and trailed behind him, losing sight of the assistant in the crowd.

“Well that was uncomfortable to watch,” he murmured in your ear. It concerned Charles at how quickly you had fallen into the charismatic charade he was accustomed to as he watched. He had hated how comfortable you were at these events, and how you charmed everyone you spoke to. He never realised it was all an act, and that the real person behind the whimsical smile was an intelligent, and abused, woman. “I don’t think I have heard so many variations for the word ‘useless’,” he continued.

Charles was right, your father had used them all in his complaints about you. Henri’s response about his children was equally cold, ‘but at least you only have the one weed in your garden.’

“I’m convinced he reads the thesaurus to find new insults for me.”

“That’s so messed up.” This time he didn’t aim the words at you and you weren’t sure how you felt about that. It was easier to think of him as the asshole you had come to know for the last decade.

“Welcome to my life.”

Charles slowed his pace for you down the stairs but you were used to moving deftly in high heels and raced ahead, tugging his hand to hurry up. A smile grew on his face until you reached the last step that exited the venue and breathed in the salty breeze blowing in from the sea across the street.

“My offer still stands,” he said as the valet quickly brought his car around and he took a step off the curb. “You’re not scared, are you?”

Charles smirked as your eyes narrowed and you took a step closer. “Why are you suddenly so interested in helping me?”

The valet opened the passenger door for you and Charles faced you from over the roof of the black sports car. “Get in and find out.”

Your eyes traced the white and red stripe that ran along the car before looking back at the entrance. The choices weren’t overly appetising but you sighed and ducked down into the low seat, tucking the tail of the gown in before the valet closed the door.

“Don’t make me regret this, Leclerc.”

Part Three.

[andreas-river]

helloo!! i got a request ofc if you don’t mind<33

its reader x 141 + könig where we are complete sweethearts and we never raise our voice, everyone like thinks we are too innocent to even be there with them.

but one time someone completely pisses us off and we are already mad so we just snap and start threatening them and stuff. i would love to see their reactions:))))

if you don’t want to do this feel free to change this or ignore!

take care of yourself!<333

right and before i forget, do you take emoji anons? i kinda wanna be -💎

BYEEEEEE💕💕

141 + König X Reader Who Snaps At Them And How They Would React

Warnings: anger, mention of insult, female period (so fem!reader), light mention of sex.

Disclaimer: nothing at all, but remember: anger is never the best way to solve problems!

A/N: hi anon, sorry it took so long! And sure, you can be -💎, but if you even gonna request NSFW, please don't use the anon button!

════════════════════

 Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost has never been the kind of person to be affected by the behavior of others: he can handle his own emotions as well as those of others around him better than anyone else;

At first, he paid no attention when he saw you with the eyes of a hyena, looking at everyone around you with the intention of devouring them; but as soon as he heard you raise your voice to him, he froze in place;

He knew that he was not the cause of your anger, that you were having one of your worst days - someone had even insulted you and he had refrained from dealing with it personally - but now the situation was as if it had gotten out of hand;

He had never seen you in such a state: your hands clenched in an iron grip, a pen between your fingers even showing a crack in the material, your face completely red, your lower lip trembling slightly, and your eyes filled with tears: you were not the kind of person to get angry, and that emotion was not good for you at all;

And so, without saying anything, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him, letting you take your anger out on him: he didn't care if you punched him in the chest or if your tears soaked his shirt.

He knew what that feeling was, and it's not easy to let it out without hurting objects or people: so he kept his arms around you as you let it out, creating a space for you that felt good as you released your anger.

¤

John "Soap" MacTavish

Soap always knew a thing or two about anger: he often had moments when he could not hold it in, so he often went to the base gym and took out all his frustration on the punching bag hanging from the ceiling;

But seeing you angry for the first time in his life made him regret all the decisions he had made in the last few days - how did it happen? Why were you so angry? You've never been angry since he first saw you;

Even when he made all his attempts to help you look futile, he decides to take a completely different approach: he moves your attention to him, tells you how to get it all out safely without consequences for you, and both end up in the gym while he shows you how to punch the bag, the same one he has been punching almost every day;

He's not bothered by your attitude, and he's going to help you through it.

¤

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"Oh Lord help me," will be his first thought when he sees you pacing around the room, fists clenched at your side, not paying much attention to your surroundings; he already knew about your terrible day, your terrible training, and even your period;

But no, he wasn't ready for you snapping at him, your finger pointing at his chest while he thought your eyes were capable of piercing his body. He immediately understood your anger and why you snapped at him like a rubber band, so fast he didn't even notice;

He took your hands and led you to the couch, encouraging you to talk and release the anger with him, even if it was difficult to explain what was going on inside your head; he listened to all your words, and even if at some point you were exhausted from all the rage boiling inside you, he continued to hold you, even if you fell asleep right in his arms, humming softly a melody for you.

¤

John Price

Being surrounded by angry people made him stressed beyond his own limits, but he learned to deal with it in any way he could;

The first solution was the cigar, the smoke always had a calming effect on his body, helping him to relax when he needed to;

You were so calm, so gentle, even your mere presence was something he craved in his own moments, but when he saw you throwing a punch at your desk, he jumped out of his skin at your flared nostrils, your white knuckles at the side of your head, and your body stiff as a violin string;

He walks behind you and puts his hands on your shoulders, but you shrug him off harshly, not even realizing how he's reacting;

He never, never expected you to snap at him, you've always been a sweetheart to him, and in that moment it looked like he flipped a coin and could only see one side;

He sees how your anger fills your movements, pacing back and forth without even looking at him, trying to pull you out of the feeling you were experiencing: it was obvious that you were "new" at this, plus it was a reason why you never got angry even in the worst situation;

He took control of the situation by putting you on his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, making you even more annoyed with his actions: but he continued, locking the door of his own office and putting you down on his chair;

Both out of breath, he just looks at you, his hand running down your body, watching you and how you try to wriggle away, but he just rests his hand on your tight, whatching you with a playful smile and eyes filled with a different light.

In the end, he knows how to make you forget even the reasons for your anger.

¤

König

He never coped well with his own anger, which led him to run away when someone was angry at him: probably a trauma response, or his anxiety kicking in. The only healthy way for him to deal with it was sparring;

And he freezes in place when you unintentionally snap at him, not even thinking about how he would react; he just stands there, listening to your unconnected words, witnessing your anger for the first time.

He doesn't speak or move, he doesn't even dare to react physically: he just watches you carefully, noting every movement, how you speak, how you try to hold something in your hands but almost break it;

That's when he realizes how to take the anger out of you: his sudden change of behavior makes you fall silent while he invites you to follow him. When he takes you to the mat for sparring, he gets into position and waits for you, and it doesn't take long for you to step in front of him;

Even if he doesn't put all his power into the fight, he notices that his plan is going right: he makes you let off steam by giving all your attention to him, to the fight, and to his movement;

Even if you don't get angry anymore, sparring has quickly become the best activity for both of you.

[lucabyte]

How do you get your siffrins to look adult? I keep accidentally giving them a baby face but I WANT THEM TO LOOK GROWN AND EXHAUSTED LIKE HE DESERVES

okay so i legit think i fail at making siffrin look adequately adult like half the time but here's a general breakdown of my like. thought process when im actually um. thinking .

So first of all heres my general tips for proportioning a face, and how i attempt to keep the roundness of sif's in-game proportions while also like... drawing them more realistically? i had to practically reinvent a Human Style for drawing isat fanart since im a furry artist so a lot of this is fresh in my mind, luckily(?) for you i suppose.

This newness also means you can like, watch me fight and struggle against how the hell to do this in my earlier fanart. so feel free to try and see what changed as i pieced it together.

Another note is body proportion. You note giving him a baby face specifically, but some of it MIGHT be that you're drawing the head too big for your style? Try and figure out how many "heads tall" your figures are and tweak the numbers until you find what looks "adult"

Here I cracked open one of the comics I used CSP Model refrences for (albeit feat Loop, who i envision to be the exact same height as siffrin. i am NOT a tall loop truther i think its funnier when that bitch is five foot NOTHING!!!!!)

drawing sif with adult proportions can be deceptively difficult though on account of their Being A Tiny Motherfucker. Mostly here though, I find that the best way to do this is to drop like 1/3rd of the length of an average drawing figure's legs. Short people tend to have short legs. I know this on account of a lot of my ocs being 5'3" and below (... for... reasons...... unrelated to my own... height.... 100%.... ) so once again I think a lot of this can come down to trying to fiddle with numbers and noting down what works.

OKAY NOW ONTO SOME MORE SIFFRIN-SPECIFIC DRAWING TIPS. like these are what i find myself doing to make them look older if i accidentally baby face them myself

The above kind of chibi-er doodle style im still not sure has Siffrin looking adult enough for my liking (someone who considers them minimum 28) but considering they're presumably genuinely a deceptively baby faced guy at least by game's start (even if they should probably look. unhealthy.) it's like... forgivable.

the bald spot is basically fucking cheating in terms of "making them look older" lbr but i am so fucking insistent on it and i punch the air in celebration every time i see anyone else do it. winner is ME!!!!

Anyway. the body hair thing is funny considering we basically have Word Of God that siffrin is not the kind of person who ever likes being naked/even having their feet out in a casual setting. but like. hi its me the weird fucked up miserable nudity guy. of course im drawing every pockmark and texture on their body.

Another note here is, on their naked form, I avoid overly smooth lines for outlines of the limbs and torso. This avoids making them look "sexy twink thin" (not my bag at all) and instead gives the impression of loose skin from fluctuating weight, uneven fat distribution, skin becoming baggier with age. I also let joints jut out and look sharp wherever I can. This is because im an asexual pervert who likes the human form the mostest when i can see 'imperfections' This adds to the haggard nature of it all, by being reasonably honest about what the kind of persistent decade-long neglect of self care and implied malnutrition would do to a guy

Last note: eyes. i find i end up drawing a vague glassy black smear with a hint of white for the sclera for siffrin like. a Lot. Eyebags to show weariness is not my preferred method as I find it, to be rude, a bit of an overused shorthand. Plus, while sif in game does get eyebags, they're usually more on pushed expressions where they're forcing their face. So I put more emphasis on drawing the folds of the upper lid (which the game does not do) to make them look weary.

I dont think i can elaborate on my opinions on How To Draw Eyes without it becoming a way the fuck too long essay because "drawing emotions good" is like. my number 1 goal in every drawing so even if everything else is scuffed to hell I HAVE TOOO get the eyes right because theyre the most emotive part of the face. if i cant capture an emotion correctly the drawing isnt getting fucking finished is the thing, so....

Luckily for me, drawing over eyes and continously tweaking them by painting over and over and over and redoing them can have the side effect of making them look over-detailed and thus worn/tired/agonised. yes this is why i draw loop's face so scrunched all the time. All I can say for this though is to do a lot of studies of both real life faces & the most emotive cartoon faces you personally have experienced. So like. steven universe is great for this because rebecca sugar is so scary at drawing eyes. theyre so fucking scary at it. or sometimes i just go stare at rebecca's old comics because jesus christ. anyway.

??? but yeah hope this helps. its something i feel like i have a genuine hard time with too, especially since im so intent on keeping their face round & my artstyle is genuinely very cutesy even when i am being weird soo ...?

tl;dr:

draw the eyes smaller, give them a chin, the canon nose helps a lot & dont forget the bald spot. everyone draw the bald spot. for me.

[donniesgirlie]

I’ve reacntly just read your “kisses and kips” and I freaking loved it! But I was wondering what if reader reacted differently after the line “Y/n, I'm perfectly capable of determining what I do or don't need. Just go to bed, I'll be there soon.”

As someone who doesn’t really handle “getting in the way” of someone else’s business very well, is terrified if they are bothering someone, specially a special someone (like an s/o) I’d froze up after that line, even if his tone isn’t directly at reader per say, I know I’d probably closed off to the point of leaving and sleeping back to my place out of fear I’ve made Donnie upset and getting in his way. Do you mind making a scenario out off this reaction? If not, you can ignore this request

Thank you!

First request, LET'S GOOOO!!

Me too - I hate the thought of even potentially being a bother😭

Hope you enjoy!

Original

Kisses and Kips - Alternate Version: Donatello x F! Reader

.

"Donnieeeeee~" You pull at the side of the doorframe, swinging yourself in and out of the lab as you draw out his name.

He had told you he'd join you in bed an hour ago under the guise of "5 more minutes." You get why he is working so hard; you do. With the recent uptick of Foot Clan activity, he needed to get the truck up and running again as soon as possible, but goddamn it- you just want to cuddle your boyfriend. You don't think it's too big of an ask, especially considering he's been working on that damn gadget for days now with little to no breaks.

With a sigh and light shake of his head, Donnie sets down his soldering iron. "Yes, love?"

You can hear the edge to his voice, strained from disuse and tilted with frustration. He slips his glasses off to pinch between his eyes, exhaustion clear on his face.

"Come to bed?"

He slips his glasses back on and swivels back to his work. "I can't. I need to finish this."

You let go of the frame and walk over to him. "You've been up over 48 hours, you're clearly exhausted, and you need rest - even if just for a little bit."

"Y/n, I'm perfectly capable of determining what I do or don't need. Just go to bed, I'll be there soon." You know he's not upset with you, but his sharp tone makes your heart drop; you can feel your stomach turning sour and your mouth going dry.

"Oh." You swallow, feeling your eyes start to prick with the threat of tears. Your voice comes out in a whisper as you turn to leave the lab, "okay..."

You know it's stupid, that he's been frustrated with the truck, and you shouldn't take it personally, but logic doesn't quell the small voice in the back of your mind whispering that he's upset with you and that you're smothering him. You calmly walk back to his room, ready to hide your tears in your pillow.

-

It's hours later when Donatello decides to come to bed. The first rays of sun are surely starting to peak over New York's surface, but all he can think about is you.

He knows he was harsh; he knows that you didn't deserve the cutting tone when you were simply expressing your concern for his well-being. He has just been so frustrated with the truck - the nunchucks are sticking and he can't figure out why despite taking them apart three times now, and the grill won't properly shut after shooting manhole covers. Not to mention the various other upgrades that he's itching to start but can't until the main problems are fixed.

He refuses to use that as an excuse, though. You're not his verbal punching bag that he can toss attitude at whenever he's inconvenienced.

So, as much as he hates to wake you, he refuses to go to bed without apologizing.

His heart breaks when his sits on the edge of the bed and looks at your sleeping face. Dried tear tracks streak your face as you grip his pillow.

Reaching a hand out, Donnie gently shakes your shoulder. "Y/n... Honey, please wake up?"

After a few coaxes and prods, you finally stir - slightly curling into yourself before stretching back out. "Dee?" You mutter, eyes slowly blinking open. "What time is it?"

"It's still early," he replies easily, moving his hand to lightly trace his thumb along your cheekbone. "I just didn't want to sleep without telling you that I'm sorry. I was upset because one of the circuit boards was giving me trouble, but I shouldn't have snapped at you; I'm sorry, love..."

"It's okay," you say, scooting closer to drape your arm over his lap, lightly nuzzling your face into his side.

"It's not," Donatello pulls from your hold just long enough to properly lay next to you before pulling you back against his plastron. "You didn't deserve to be yelled at just because I was annoyed."

His hand splays out on your back, rubbing up and down it as he buries his face in your hair.

He feels the soft press of your lips to his collar before your muffled voice mumbles, "Well, I forgive you," against his skin.

[lunajay33]

Destiny Pt.6🐺 (Bonus)

Summary: Paul has just shifted to his new life as a wolf and feels empty without his imprint hoping he finds her soon, y/n just moved to forks to live with her dad and sister Bella and decides to go to the bone fire to make new friends

Part.5

•Masterlist•

It’s been a week since I moved in with Billy and Jake, and I’ve noticed I’ve gotten a bit better, I didn’t have to walk on eggshells and watch everything I do, plus Paul was able to come over all the time, I really loved Billy for allowing me to stay

Paul was laying in my bed as I was decorating the little room with the things I’ve brought over from my old room

I turned around and he was spread out just looking at me

“What?” I smiled as I jumped ontop of him

“You’re just beautiful” he laughed as he held my hips against his lap

“Stop that you know I don’t like all that attention” I said hiding my face in him chest

“Oh yes you do, I see the way you smile and blush after I say something like, how beautiful your eyes are, or the way you scream when you laugh, I know you love it when *I* compliment you” he poked as he rolled me over on the bed

“I suppose you may be right”

“See that’s my girl”

Those words went right to my heart, I can’t believe he’s all mine

“I love you Paul” I said softly as I placed my arms around his shoulders

He was quiet for a while but I could hear a growl or maybe some kind of purrr from his chest

“I’m sorry it’s too early I shouldn’t have…”

“No, I love you too, you’re my everything, my life” he took my hands and placed them against his chest

“You feel that?” The thrumming and warmth enveloping my hands

I nodded excitedly

“That’s my love for you, the love that will never die”

“Oh Paul how did I get so lucky” I said about to cry

For the rest of the evening we were wrapped around each other talking, sleeping, making out until Jake came barging in saying they had to go and patrol

“COME ON PAUL” Jake yelled from the front door

“You can come back here after patrol tonight that’s if you want!!” I smiled

“I’ll definitely see you tonight baby but don’t wait up for me, but I gotta go, love ya” he said running out with the boys all waiting there for him

“LOVE YOU”

~~~~~~~~~~

I stayed up as long as I could before I had to go to sleep exhausted, I pulled on my matching pajama shirt and shorts and tucked myself in

Hours later I heard the front door creaking open and a bunch of rustling around, too tired to get up I just waited till I felt Paul lift the blankets and pull me against his chest

Feeling his worth lul me to sleep

“Night baby” he whispered as I fully feel into the best sleep of my life

~~~~~

The next morning I woke up to the sun shinning in my face, I groaned roling over to be facing Paul

The sun was highlighting all his stunning features, his brown hair, his tan skin

I ran my fingers through his hair as he started to wake up

“Morning my love” I smiled

“How was your sleep with your personal heater?” He laughed

“Good except for the part where someone snores loudly in my ear”

“Hey I was exhausted from patrol give me a break”

“Okay fine just this time” then the phone rang

I ran to the phone wanting to let Jake and Billy rest longer

“Hello Black residence”

“Y/n is that you?”

“Bella? Why are you calling” I said nervous as I felt Paul come behind me and wrap his arms around my waist

“Look im sorry for what i said, we want you back”

“Bella you can’t keep using me as your punching bag when you have problems, I deserve to be happy too, and I’m happy here” I said leaning in closer to Paul

“But Charlie talks about you all the time, you could atleast visit him” she said getting angry

“Well I can call him myself and work it out, I gotta go now” I said hanging up

“You okay?”

“Ya I just can’t get a break with her”

“How about I take you to the woods for the day and show you a good time” he smirked

“I’d love that”

~~~~~~~~

[exhaustedpirate]

someone to take care of you

my offering for day 1 of @bucktommyfluffebruary decided to make tommy even more exhausted than he was on the hospital scene so that buck has to manhandle his boyfriend ¯_(ツ)_/¯ basically tommy was fighting a wildfire for three days and buck takes care of him when he gets back!

rated T | 2918 words also on AO3

Tommy hasn’t had a proper rest for the past 72 hours.

He is aching, burning, he is in agony. His bones ache under his skin, his muscles burn from exhaustion and his body is begging him for rest.

He doesn’t remember getting home until he is standing in his driveway, an engine full of equally tired firefighters carefully driving down the street. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with smoke-free air and forces himself to leave behind the hell he just escaped.

Tommy passes by an unusual Jeep parked in his driveway while he drags his feet towards his front door, his brain struggling to give him the answers he needs. It’s only when the door opens before he can muster the strength to take the keys from his pocket that it hits him.

Evan.

Whose brow is furrowed with worry and whose mouth is a mix of contentment and concern. He is wearing one of Tommy’s shirts and gym shorts, both in a rumpled state. He smells of sweat and cleaning products and it takes him another second - Evan has a key.

Of course he does, they exchanged keys the week before. Tommy had told him that he would be on call in the midst of wildfire season and the way Evan’s face had been the definition of worry had tugged at something in his heart. It was easy to pluck the spare key from the drawer and pass it to Evan, it was easier still to add his spare key to his keychain. 

It’s both a blessing and a curse to see his boyfriend of two months. 

As Tommy wraps his arms around Evan and buries his face on his neck feeling the way the other man’s arms wrap around him just as tightly, he finds himself elated to not have to ask for this, to have his presence so conveniently within reach. But as he clings and melts in the warmth, Tommy feels his exhaustion settle deeper in his bones, chastises himself for being tired, for not taking advantage of every moment spent with Evan, of not being present.

“I’m so happy you’re back,” Evan whispers in his ear, worry giving way to relief, his fingers digging into the sweaty strands of Tommy’s hair. “I saw the news and as soon as I was off I came here,” There is apprehension in his voice as if concerned he might be too much but Tommy just grabs him tighter. “I cleaned your whole house.”

Tommy lets out a tired laugh against the skin of his neck before kissing it, feeling the way Evan shivers under it. He understands the concern, the worry, the desperation. There were many times he wanted to drive towards the 118 after hearing some of their crazier rescues on TV or over dispatch but stopped himself - focused on work, tinkered around a car or punched his worries away. Something warm settles in his chest when he realises he gave Evan the confidence to seek him out, to ask for more.

“I’m very happy that you’re here,” Evan’s body relaxes at his confession and he buries his face on his neck, uncaring for the smell of smoke and sweat. “But I don’t know if I’ll be the best company today.”

Evan breaks the hug and smiles at the soft whine of protest that leaves him unbidden. His hands cup Tommy’s cheeks and he closes his eyes at the way Evan’s thumbs caress the bags under his eyes. 

“I’m off for the next 36 hours,” Evan explains and Tommy opens his eyes, giving his boyfriend all his remaining attention. “I’d like to take care of you.” His tone is shy and it clenches something in Tommy’s chest. 

He’s not used to being taken care of. 

“Evan-”

“You took care of me before,” The other man interrupts his half-hearted protest, finger over his lips. “I want to take care of you too.”

How can he say no to that?

His eyes are wide, unsure whether to believe Evan’s words, the determination in his eyes, the strength in his tone. But he nods, his exhaustion letting that part of him that craves, that yearns, take over his decision. Evan’s smile is blinding and it soothes an ache inside him.

His boyfriend takes his hands and pulls him inside his house, the smell of cleaning supplies and air freshener in every square inch. Evan’s presence is noticeable all around, his boots now sit neatly next to the other man’s shoes, there’s a book he doesn’t recognise on his coffee table and a coat on the back of a kitchen chair. Evan is taking space in his home.

Tommy wishes he would take it all.

Thankfully, he doesn’t say what his sleep-addled mind fantasizes and simply lets Evan guide him towards the second floor and into the bathroom. His eyes blink into awareness as he’s sat on the closed toilet lid, and he looks up at the other man realising that he’d asked him a question.

“Wh-What did you say?”

Evan’s patient smile only makes him feel worse. How can he have such a wonderful man in his house without paying him every drop of attention?

Hands on his cheeks interrupt his chastising thoughts. Evan kisses his forehead, his nose, his cheeks and finally a chaste kiss to his lips. Something inside him purrs at the care, at the affection and he feels that little bubble of shame pop into nothingness. 

“I asked if you wanted help taking off your clothes so you can take a shower.”

He blinks his eyes a few times before he slowly pulls off his coat, slow movements like moving through sand and when it’s off, there is a small pinch to the other man’s brow. Tommy takes a breath before pulling up his t-shirt. It goes over his head and he notices that Evan is closer than before. Oh, he helped him.

Evan watches him a second before he nods resolutely. “I’m showering with you.” He declares, pulling off his (Tommy’s) shirt.

“Evan, no,” Tommy protests even as his eyes roam the naked expanse of his boyfriend’s chest. “I’m capable of showering by myself.”

“Tommy,” The other man’s tone is patient but he raises an unimpressed eyebrow as he places his hands on his hips. “I feel like you’re going to fall in the shower if I leave you alone in there and I really don’t want anyone from the LAFD to see your dick except me.”

Tommy lets out a surprised guffaw and Evan’s lips twitch as he tries to keep the chastising expression on his face. He looks up at his boyfriend with a soft smile. “You really don’t have to, babe.”

“I want to,” Evan’s face softens and he helps Tommy to his feet. “Besides, I smell like bleach and sweat, not exactly a sexy combination.”

“I don’t know,” Tommy sways closer to his boyfriend, maybe on purpose, maybe accidentally. “You always smell great to me.”

Evan laughs as their noses bump into each other, a betraying blush covering his cheeks. “You look like you’re five seconds away from falling asleep, Tom, you have no purpose being so charming.”

Tommy laughs with Evan, nodding in reluctant agreement. There’s a press of lips against his before his boyfriend begins unbuttoning his trousers, letting them fall to his feet before pulling down his boxer briefs. With a stabilizing hand on the sink, Tommy steps out of the fabric pooled at his ankles with Evan’s help. While crouched, the other man also takes off his socks and, even naked, Tommy still feels the weight of the past few days.

Evan stands and holds his hands to help him into the shower base. He feels a little annoyed at needing so much help, at feeling so useless and weak but then he looks at Evan’s face, the soft look in his eyes, that beautiful smile and he forces that part down, pushes it away.

It’s okay to ask for help, his therapist once told him. It’s okay to let others take care of you.

His boyfriend discards his clothes quickly so he can join him. Evan turns on the water and carefully maneuvers Tommy under the spray once it's hot enough. It feels so good that Tommy lets out a contented moan. His bones melt under the warmth and he feels Evan’s chuckle like a cold drink in a hot summer or whatever other ridiculous thoughts come to mind when his boyfriend laughs.

“That feel good?”

Tommy hums as Evan joins him under the spray, their bodies close together and he has never been so happy that he upgraded to the wide shower head when he redid the bathroom. Evan had also been very pleased to see the size of his shower the first time he came over, they have found many satisfying ways to make use of the space.

It feels different now, to be so close, so naked and wet and to feel so cared for, without any expectations. All he needs to do is stand there as Evan grabs his shampoo and massages his scalp. It draws another moan from his lips and he takes hold of the other man’s hips with how much he sways in place.

Tommy lets himself be moved, lets Evan run through every inch of his skin with a loofah, lets the scent of his citrusy shower gel fill his nose. He lets himself enjoy the closeness of Evan’s body, his careful touches, his soft words, their chaste kisses. Everything is soft, warm, relaxing and he would really like to have this all the time.

The water shuts off and Tommy blinks his eyes open to look at Evan’s smile. Such a good smile. His boyfriend blushes and he realises he must have said it out loud. But Evan presses their lips together to stop any excuses or apologies to come out of Tommy’s mouth. Probably for the best.

“Don’t worry, babe, nothing you say while you’re this sleep-deprived will be admissible in a court of law.” Evan giggles and Tommy bites the inside of his lip to stop himself from gushing over it.

Evan helps him out of the shower and begins to towel-dry him. There’s still that niggling voice yelling at him for his ineptitude but then his boyfriend will smile up at him and that voice gets quieter and quieter.

It’s okay to let others take care of you.

Tommy has a towel wrapped around his waist and lets Evan guide him to his bedroom and groans as he sits on the bed, his body no longer used to the softness of the seat. He is flagging and Evan must know it because in no time, Tommy is wearing soft and clean clothes and he flutters his eyes awake to see Evan already wearing one of his hoodies and sweats. God, he looks good.

Tommy groans inwardly when Evan blushes again. “I have no control over this.” He mutters as an apology.

Evan smiles softly and runs his fingers down the side of Tommy’s face, he hums in pleasure at the touch. “I’m not complaining.” 

“I promise I’ll compliment you so much more when I can actually think again.”

Evan laughs and that warm feeling nestles in his chest. “I’ll remind you of that promise when you can actually think again,” Tommy nods and sighs at the soft kiss planted on his forehead. “Think you can stay awake long enough to eat one of the bacon muffins I made?”

“You made muffins?” Tommy mumbles and his stomach grumbles at the thought of food.

“I got an alert about the wind shifting directions and scrubbing the kitchen grout wasn’t getting the job done anymore,” Evan pulls him up to his feet and kisses the concerned wrinkles of his frown. “I made bacon, chocolate and rhubarb muffins,” He scratches at the back of his neck looking away with a blush. “Your freezer is a little full now.”

Tommy grins, incredibly fond of the man in front of him. He pulls his face up to by the chin to land a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. Evan sighs into the kiss and his shoulders relax. “I can’t wait to try them all, babe.”

Evan grins and lands a smacking kiss on Tommy’s lips that makes him laugh. “Come on, then!”

He’s seated at the kitchen table before he knows what’s going on. There was definitely a lot of stress-cleaning going on, his oven looks like it just came out of the store. But, despite the satisfaction of a clean house, all he sees is the stress he put Evan through. 

He thinks of oil stains in his hands. Of muscles aching from overwork. Of the beaten up state of his punching bags. Wonders if Evan would see the same.

The microwave beeps and then there’s the smell of a warm muffin in front of him, bacon wafting up to his nose. His mouth waters and the first bite is divine and he lets out a moan to show it. Tommy is only able to see Evan’s proud grin when he’s finished, licking his fingers to get the last of the taste.

“Good?” Evan asks, approaching him and running his fingers through his damp hair. 

Tommy wraps his arms around Evan’s waist, resting his chin on his belly and closing his eyes at the caress. “So good.”

Evan bends down to kiss his forehead, fingernails scraping pleasantly on his scalp and he hums sleepily. “I think I should get you into bed before you pass out.”

“That’s very forward of you, Evan Buckley,” Tommy mumbles, eyebrow raised even with his eyes shut. “I’m not that easy.”

Evan giggles and Tommy feels a small smile on his lips. “Alright, Thomas Kinard, I won’t take advantage of you.”

“Good,” Tommy forces his eyes open when Evan urges him to stand and accepts the soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “My boyfriend would kick your ass.”

Evan grins and pulls him towards the stairs again. “He would?”

“Oh yeah,” Tommy returns the grin, clinging to the last remaining energy the muffin gave him. “He’s got big muscles and these long ass legs, the whole package.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Evan is blushing even as he keeps the smirk on his face. “I think I could take him, you’re worth fighting for.” 

Tommy’s breath hitches at the honesty in his voice.

His boyfriend’s blush goes down his neck and he’s fairly sure it’s spread to his chest, he clears his throat. “You should brush your teeth before bed.”

Tommy goes in a haze, automatically brushing his teeth as his mind rushes through the idea that Evan would fight for him, that he was worth fighting for, worth keeping. Uh.

He walks into the bedroom to find Evan sitting at the foot of the bed, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Maybe he wasn’t expecting it either, maybe he regretted it.

“Evan-”

“I mean it,” Evan blurts out and Tommy quiets. “I did but we don’t need to talk about it tonight,” He stands from the bed to take his hands and pulls him towards the bed. “You need sleep and so do I.”

Maybe it wasn’t the time for a talk, Tommy was sure that he shouldn’t be trusted with words at the moment. But he didn’t want it to go unnoticed. He presses his lips to Evan’s in a soft kiss.

“Thank you,” He whispers. “Not just for your words but for taking care of me.”

“You don’t have to-” 

Tommy kisses him again, this time with more fervor, interrupting him. “Thank you.”

Evan nods and directs them to bed. The sheets are cold but they smell clean and fruity and his boyfriend is warm. Tommy sighs when they stop shuffling around in bed, his head resting on Evan’s chest and arm wrapped around his torso. Evan’s fingers run along his hair and he feels all the tension, the exhaustion, the anxiety, the unworthiness fall away from him. Evan’s touch is a balm to every ache, every wound and every hurt.

He falls asleep warm, content, happy. 

The sun is shining bright when he opens his eyes. A sigh escapes him at the satisfaction of a good night’s sleep and at the fingers casually creating shapes on his clothed back. 

Tommy looks up from the torso he used as a pillow the whole night to see Evan already awake, scrolling through his phone with a focused frown. His hair is messy from sleep, growing curls falling every which way. He’s been awake for a while, his eyes don’t hold that just-woke-up look they do when they wake up together. 

Evan’s been awake for a while but hasn’t moved because Tommy was sleeping on him. A warm feeling that feels a lot like showering together, like home baked muffins, like “you’re worth fighting for”, floods his chest.

Fuck…

Tommy might just be on his way to falling in love with Evan Buckley.

And, as if his emotional turmoil was loud enough for his boyfriend to notice, Evan looks down at him. His smile is bright and his eyes are focused on him. Tommy is having a little difficulty breathing but forces a deep breath when the other man’s hand moves up to his hair.

“Slept well?”

Tommy is definitely going to fall in love with Evan Buckley.

He smiles. “Wonderfully.”

Maybe it’s not so bad.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Part two thoughts on an ani x bpd reader? Like, when things get that bad, does either of them wake the fuck up and realize things need to change? Remorse or guilt? The reader leaving? Ani leaving or falling into a self loathing hole, doing bad stuff again and again whether to himself or reader) and not taking care of himself?

It’s interesting to read some of your takes on BPD relationships, because I obviously have no idea what that’s like, but you do. You can make it seem very addicting, but also very terrifying and unhealthy, depending on which way the pendulum swings (I hope you take that as a compliment. Tone is hard through text. Lol. 😅).

I personally do not believe abuse is justified in any situation, whether you have a disorder or not. There’s lots of ways to deal with feelings without taking it out on someone else. On the other hand, I know some BPD’s have described feeling horrified with themselves after an episode like that, and so I’ve never really known just how much ‘control’ someone has in that moment. Either way, I still believe it’s the person’s responsibility to find a way to deal with it. Nobody deserves to be miserable around them just because they can’t handle something.

Anyway, I kind of went off on a rant. Apologies. Lol. My main request was for a part two of Ani x BPD reader! ❤️🫶✨

Not offended at all bby.

I think after I’m done with stalker!ani I’ll write a fic on this. Just cause so many people have asked about it.

100% BPD X BPD would be a terrible pairing. Coming from me as a bpd gal.

Now, personally, I’ve never physically abused anyone during an episode. But I HAVE done lots of property damage and I also broke my hand when I used a concrete wall as a punching bag. I split a wooden bat at the tip from whacking a fence once.

When it gets that bad, I don’t really remember what I said or did. I just feel really jittery, almost like an extreme caffeine high you know? (Imagine old cartoon character drinking coffee and their whole body vibrates, eyeballs and all)

But if it doesn’t get to that point, which it rarely does now that I’m medicated correctly and have a good support system, I IMMEDIATELY feel regret. Like horrible sorrow. Bpd means big feelings and when I feel regret, which isn’t often, it feels like I’m grieving a death that I’m to blame for.

For the smaller, more snappy or short outbursts:

My mouth works faster than the logical part of my brain that tells me not to say something mean.

Sometimes I catch myself in the middle of saying something awful and then I just have to finish it because the damage is done and I may as well spit it out. Then I’ll lock myself in the bathroom for an hour until I’ve hyped myself up enough to apologize, then I’ll go back to the bathroom until the big feelings from my apology die down. I’ll be quiet, basically selectively mute for the rest of the day and be super irritable.

It’s exhausting. But it’s even more exhausting to have to continually remind myself not to spew the first thing that pops into my head or not to chuck the bag of shredded cheese at the wall because I can’t get the ziploc to open.

It’s so stupid that something so small as getting my hairbrush stuck on a knot in my hair could set me off into a teeth gritting, foot stomp and shriek. Like wtf? That’s embarrassing. But it happens before I can even think about what I’m doing.

The best way I can describe it is: I’m a bratty toddler when it comes to emotional regulation.

But you’re so right tho, your illness doesn’t give you an excuse to be an ass. It just proves the person doesn’t want to put in the work to get better if they use it as a justifying reason.

BPD might cause my reactions, but I’m in charge of my actual actions. Sometimes it takes a long time for them to recognize that though. I’m an adult now, I’m medicated, I’ve spent my fair share of days in the loony bin. Looking back at my teenage self? It’s horrific and sad. For me and everyone around me back then.

[jewish-vents]

My right wing family likes to laugh in my face about how the left hates us. We live in a state where Neo Nazis have a compound in the woods where they shot and killed multiple Native American women and at least one black man. The right is not on our side. The left is not on our side. But all my family cares about is telling me how they were correct and I was wrong. I don't know if they think "I'm on the right!" will save them. I have no evidence to suggest that yelling that would save their lives. To a Nazi you're still Jewish and to a Hamasnik you just gave them a second reason to kill you.

I wish I had a mom who asked me if I was okay. I wish I had a dad who gave me advice. I wish my brother would stop texting me news stories of the latest celebrity that came out as anti-Jewish. I wish my sister would stop relentlessly bringing up how every musician behind every song I listen to hates me (she's a DJ, she has a lot of music knowledge). I wish I had someone to spend Shabbat with.

After having had anxiety attacks for four months of Shabbats straight, ten times so badly that I threw up, four times so badly I dissociated and don't recall 5+ hours of the evening clearly, I've stopped talking to them other than to copy and paste "I don't want to talk to you." I woke up Friday morning with physical pain in my chest. I was terrified of having to spend time with them. And then it hit me: I didn't have to, this time. I didn't have to be insulted and made fun of and have the entire dinner table laughing at me, to my face, even when I hyperventilated or cried or stopped interacting with the world and just sat there staring at nothing.

My mother texted me today telling me that not coming over had "hurt" her. I replied, "I don't want to talk to you. I want to talk to the person who raised me who actually cared how I was doing. You messed me up so badly that I'm considering going no contact entirely."

She asked me if I really wanted to be completely alone.

I said yes so quickly I didn't even have time to blink before I sent the text. I would rather have absolutely no one than my "family". The biggest obstacle in my continued efforts not to relapse into alcoholism and self-harm is them. The world's antisemitism was not unexpected. Them kicking me while I'm down again and again and again was beyond my capacity to imagine and I just can't take it anymore. I have no idea how I've stayed sober. It is a miracle that I haven't injured myself. But I can't keep going and continue to put up with this.

This last Shabbat I slept. I was so exhausted I just laid in bed and caught up on my sleep. I work for a suicide hotline, I deal with a lot at work. I don't sleep well. For the past four months, I wasn't sleeping well Thursday nights/Friday mornings, especially.

Even if the world somehow went back to normal, this last year has completely broken any bonds there were between me and my family. And even if everything somehow resolved itself, I wouldn't want them back. I don't want to be around people who used me as a punching bag during their times of stress.

I wish I had a family. I don't wish it badly enough to interact with the one I used to have.

.

[edgeisallelite]

Will Ospreay x Darby Allin under the cut. I got a bit carried away.

Since I've committed to the bit, I was writing out a random idea while it was slow at work. Now I’ve got this. Oops. Apologies in advance, I haven’t written anything properly in forever and I haven’t written anything wrestling related in over a decade. Feel free to shoot me any other ideas for this ship, I love seeing them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've been thinking about how the winter here is so much different than it is in England, so Will would probably come to love it, even when it's bitterly cold. He's in the US pretty much all the time now and it's a treat every time he gets to experience it.

This of course then makes me think of how Darby probably doesn't give a fuck if it's freeze your tits off cold outside wherever they are (Detroit, Canada, Minnesota, etc), he's gonna wear whatever whenever. He's not exactly someone who seems to have a preservation instinct of any sort.

Will, the caring himbo he is, cannot fucking stand it. Darby is small and thin and Will is convinced the man is gonna freeze to death because he's too fucking stubborn to wear a real coat. He won't even wear something that isn't sneakers! There's ice Darby, you're gonna break your fucking neck and not from jumping off a goddamn ladder!

First, Will tries a more passive approach. Helpful hints, keeping a closer eye on Darby, pestering him that he won't be good to anyone if he turns into a human popsicle. None of this works.

Will is not a man who gives up easily. Darby is notoriously stubborn. Well, I two can play at that game.

Will starts leaving hoodies with Darby’s stuff in the locker room. Darby, at first, thinks maybe somebody just left their stuff in the wrong place. It doesn’t long for him to catch on though and he isn’t impressed. He simply sets the clothing aside and goes about his business.

Will decides to take another approach. He doesn’t want to look like some sort of creep who goes rifling through other people’s belongings without permission so he makes sure to be quick about it, taking yet another hoodie and shoving it inside Darby’s bag so it’s not visible from the top. It’s silly but goddammit he’s committed to this.

That night, as Darby gets back to his hotel room, exhausted and sore, he isn’t really paying close attention as he unpacks his bag looking for a change of clothes.

The soft fabric is what he notices first. He pulls on it and finds yet another hoodie.

Fucking Ospreay. Doesn’t this guy take a hint? He doesn’t need to be mother henning over him like he’s a little boy.

Darby has to resist the urge to chuck the damn thing across the room. But it’s then he realizes something different about this particular hoodie.

Up until this point, Darby was pretty sure Ospreay was wasting money buying a bunch of hoodies that Darby was downright ignoring at this point because apparently he doesn’t have anything better to do.

But this hoodie, black and very soft with an Assassin’s Creed logo blazoned on the front in white (Darby internally rolls his eyes, what a fucking nerd), has clearly been worn before.

Derby hesitantly raises the fabric closer to his face, inhaling slowly. It smells like him, the bastard. Some sort of cologne. Not the fancy rich asshole type, something more mainstream, comforting almost. A little sweaty but also clean, like he’s worn it right after showering. It’s as if Will is standing right next to him and has just taken it off to give to him. Like he cares about him and there’s something between them. Like they’re together or some shit.

Darby growls to himself. He badly wants to punch Will square in his pretty face.

Some time passes. Will hasn’t seen much of Darby, just glimpses here and there. He has a feeling he’s being avoided, which he doesn’t like. He decides maybe it’s time to back off.

It isn’t until it’s another cold day outside another stadium that he sees Darby for the first time in what seems like that forever. This time, it’s Will who almost falls on his ass in the snow. Though even that wouldn’t stop the grin that spreads across his features.

Darby is wearing his hoodie. He’s actually wearing it instead of just freezing for no good reason. He’s still in thin jeans and some sneakers but Will doesn’t care, he’ll take it.

The hoodie hangs off Darby’s smaller frame but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Fuck, Will didn’t realize he’d look that cute.

Darby notices the bastard grinning at him and approaches, his expression as aloof as always, the hood over his head making him that much harder to read. Still, he stands close to Ospreay, though he doesn’t quite look at him.

“You proud of yourself?”

“Proud isn’t exactly the right word, I’d say. You uh, you do look good though. Maybe you should wear some of my clothes more often.”

Darby has no right moving as fast as he does but within a moment he’s grabbed Will by the scruff of his neck, fingers digging into as much of Will’s blonde curls as he can get his hand on. He yanks Will down to his height.

Icy blue eyes lock with his from beneath the hoodie. Darby bares his teeth and Will is trying to remind his brain this is serious, but all he can think about is how hot this has suddenly become.

“You are so lucky you’re charming or I’d have beat your ass for going near my things.”

Will only hears one thing. “You think I’m charming, huh?”

With his grip on Will’s hair, it’s easy enough to close that distance. Will’s hands reach out to grip Darby’s hoodie in his fists and pull him closer and he doesn’t resist, even as his teeth nip at Will’s lips. Of course his lips are as soft as they look and the kiss sends a jolt through Darby all the way to his fingertips.

A plum of frosty air escapes the moment they pull apart. Will is panting softly, lips flushed red, looking wild eyed. Darby finds that detail rather satisfying.

As Darby takes a step back, his eyes don’t leave Will’s face. “You know next time, if you’re gonna flirt with someone, you could just ask to take them out or something. Like a regular person.”

Will’s brows furrow together. “But you’d hate that.”

Darby’s lips turn up at the corner and he almost looks amused.

“You never know. Strange things happen around here all the time.”

Darby shoves his hands into the hoodie pocket, gaze still lingering on Ospreay before he turns and heads inside. Will can’t help noticing he actually avoids the patches of ice on the ground for once, as if he’s finally heeding Will’s warnings, even if it’s only this one time.

It’s not often that Will’s brain turns off. He always moving, always thinking. But right now, the only thing he can think about is how good Darby would look wearing more of his clothes. Or perhaps none at all.

He sighs. It’s gonna be a long night.

[mayabooowrites]

Witness||J.P

James comes home to find a letter from his Ex

Based on this song:

I entered my apartment after a long day at work. I sighed as the place had felt empty since she had moved out, but I didn't want her to know that.

Walking into my living room, I felt exhausted after a long day at work. I set my work bag on the coffee table, where an unopened letter caught my eye. I picked it up, confused to see that it was from Y/n, my ex-girlfriend. My heart dropped as I wondered what could be inside the letter. The envelope felt heavy in my hand, and I hesitated to open it, unsure what emotions it might bring up.

Dear James,

I am writing to let you know my thoughts before leaving the country, as I may not return. I want to start fresh and leave everything behind.

While cleaning my room yesterday, I stumbled upon the 23rd birthday card you gave me, now stained with coffee. It made me smile as I reminisced about that night, but I know it's a memory of the past that I'll always cherish.

I was told that you kissed someone to get it out of your system. It's great to see you becoming more open and finding happiness again, but I would rather not be a part of it. Every time you're around me, you say another shot at me, and it's holding me back from moving forward.

Please feel free to do what you need to get over me. But I won't be your witness.

It deeply hurts me to see you constantly hurting me and taking cheap shots at me whenever I'm around. The pain you inflict on my heart is unbearable, and I would never treat you the way you treat me.

I know you like to feel seen, but I can't give you what you need. Our relationship has ended, and for us to move forward, I need to establish some space between us. I mean, I'll be relocating to France. I don't know how much distance I can put between us once I'm gone.

Feel free to go ahead and kiss my friends; go ahead and kiss Lily again because I understand that it's just another attempt to provoke me. But honestly, I genuinely want you to do whatever it takes to move on from me. Your happiness doesn't cause me any pain; it brings me joy. Even if I know you only kissed her to spite me, it's alright.

But please don't write back, I don't want to know how you been, I'll find it out from them.

I get it; you're looking for a reaction. You want me to feel jealous, but James, it's not good for us to play that game. Trying to make each other jealous is just not healthy.

I'll be long gone by the time you finish reading this. Since our breakup, you've acted like a total jerk, so I got a job in France. I will start in 3 days. Sirius and Lily helped me pack up everything, and while writing this, I just finished; after I drop this letter to you, I'm off to France, sipping wine while looking at the Eifel Tower in my new apartment by now.

As I won't be your witness James. I wish I had more to say but I don't

Goodbye

Y/n

Her words packed a punch, replaying my actions and her disappointed expression. She's absolutely right. I treated her terribly, and now I can't even say sorry.

She's gone probably forever. And I can't even tell her I'm sorry.

All I felt was regret. Tears stream down my face as I think of Y/n in France falling in love with someone a thousand times better than me.

And in that moment, I wanted to be her witness.

[barbex]

Happy Friday! Prompting: "laying awake at night, wishing your lover was next to you" for whoever you feel like writing ✨

Thank you for this prompt for @dadrunkwriting. It didn't quite work out but someone lies awake and they could become lovers, right? Fenris x Anders, of course.

---

Fenris can't sleep. It's ridiculous, he is exhausted, he should be dead asleep after that three day trip at the Wounded Coast. Three days in blistering heat, sharing the tent with the mage. Three nights of laying next to him on thin mats, naked, because it was just too hot to cover themselves. Three nights he slept, instantly. And now, in his home, he can't sleep. 

He turns from one side to the next, kicking the blanket off, only to draw it back up. Nearly dislocating his jaw from yawning, he presses his face into the pillow and squeezes his eyes shut, but sleep just doesn't want to come. He punches the mattress, glaring at the thin streak of light from the window the never bothered him before. 

But then he hears another noise, his front door creaking as it opens. He is on his feet immediately, grabs his sword and storms out, only to stop at the top of the stairs. Down in the hall, determinately stomping towards the stairs with a bag and a blanket over his arm, is Anders. He lost his hairband, his hair sticking out in all directions, a threadbare shirt barely covering his upper body. When he is halfway up the stairs, Fenris realizes that he still holds his sword and lowers it.

"What are you doing here, mage?"

"Can't sleep," Anders grumbles, walking past Fenris into his bedroom. His bag falls to the floor and the bed creaks when he lies down on it, on his stomach, with his face pressed into the spare pillow. 

"Why are you here?" Fenris leans his sword against the wall and stares at the half naked mage in his bed. 

Anders looks at him from under his arm. His hair shines like silver in the moonlight.  "Can't sleep."

"Why does that fact put you into my bed?"

"I slept well next to you."

"But that is —"

"Oh, get off it. Don't tell me you slept. Get in the bed, maybe we can both finally sleep then." Anders pulls his blanket up to his back.

Fenris stares for a few moments longer, and then shrugs and climbs into his bed. Next to him, Anders sighs and soon, his breath evens out. Fenris wants to turn to him and look at his face, but his eyes feel too heavy. It's soothing, to listen to Anders breathing.

Sunlight lights up the room when he wakes. He slept through the night, a rare treat. Next to a mage. Fenris looks at the shock of blond hair on the pillow next to him. This mage.

As if he feels Fenris watching him, Anders blinks, his eyes still hazy from sleep. He looks at Fenris with a dumb smile. "Morning, beautiful," he says and curls back into the pillow.

"What did you say?"

Anders lifts his head, blinking until his eyes are clear as he looks at Fenris. "Good morning."

"No, what did you call me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sitting up, Ander wipes his hair back and looks around. "It worked, didn't it? We could both sleep." 

Fenris turns on his back to stare at the patchy ceiling. "I certainly did not ask for this."

"Relax, I'm sure we'll get used to sleeping alone again soon." Anders disappears in the adjacent bathroom and when he comes back out, he still only wears his thin shirt, but his hair is drawn back into a tail and he looks fresh and awake. 

Anders is going to leave, and he knows, with startling clarity, that he doesn't want him to go. "Maybe I do not want that."

"What?"

"Sleeping alone."

With a confused frown, Anders steps closer. "Well you could ask Isabela, or Hawke... I mean, I'm probably not who you had in mind..."

Before Anders can slip away, Fenris grabs his hand and pulls him back. "That's where you are wrong." 

"But... you want me to stay?" The way Anders stares at him in total disbelief, stings.

"Why is that so unbelievable?" His hand hovers near Anders' face, he doesn't know how it got there but he has to brush over the stubble on his cheek and feel how different his hair feels.

"Because... you barely tolerate me on a good day." Anders holds himself very still.

Fenris drops his hand. "I apologize."

"You don't have to apologize," Anders says. "Just... I could do with a little more explanation."

Whatever Fenris feels, he does not have the words to describe it. "It feels... it feels right to have you here."

Anders watches him for a long time. Then he leans forward, brushing through Fenris' hair. "Does this feel right?"

A shudder runs through him. It has been so long that anybody touched him like this. "Yes."

Leaning closer, Anders slides his arms around Fenris' shoulders, pulling him closer. "And this?"

A gasp escapes him. It's too much and not enough at the same time. "Yes."

"Lie down?" 

Fenris lies back down, and Anders lies down next to him, behind his back. He slips one arm under Fenris' neck, and wraps the other around his waist, holding him. "Maybe we could sleep some more."

"Yes, maybe." Fenris leans against Anders, soaking in the touch, the closeness, the safety, until he cannot take it anymore. With a moan, he turns in Anders' arms and kisses him. 

Anders kisses him back, carefully. "Fenris," he whispers against his lips. "Are you sure this feels right?"

"Yes, I am sure." Nothing else has ever felt so right.

"Good." Anders kisses along Fenris' jaw. "Because it feels right for me too." 

[rottingdotcom]

i hope you learn to do kinder things with your time. i'm not sure where you got off thinking that you were doing good by attempting to socially punish someone for their mental illness. it was never any of your obligations to help cheavy at any point, and its baffling that you expected sympathy and pity because you regretted financially assisting him when he was in need. It was especially nasty when you tried to imply the 2000$ he gets in govt assistance is proof he is undeserving of that help. And I know you claim that deep down you "want the best", but if that were really true, you would have handled the situation like a rational adult and solved it person to person or blocked and moved on. the fact you went and deleted that post just goes to show you know all this was wrong to do in the first place. that being said the damage is still done and you've clearly only made his mental health worse and deleting the post will not change that. Human tar pit.

I have had Cheavy blocked for five months on all platforms. I have not unblocked him since the day he used five different platforms in an attempt to contact me after I blocked him on each one. If you had read the full statement, you would see that this was a result of months of this constant cycle of abuse.

I had resolved it on my end for a while until one of his victims came to me for help, and I realized that he had only gotten worse with his abusive behavior. That he had hurt more people and caused more harm to so many more people. That he had been lying about me for months and convincing people, such as you, that I was a one-dimensional villain.

I'm not a good person. I'm really not. I'm a tired, exhausted individual with loads of my own trauma and mental health problems to deal with, who wants nothing more than to see this individual finally stop continuing this cycle.

Cheavy is a repeat abuser. This is his behavior model. This is part of his long lasting, ever repeating cycle. The "psychotic episode" is one component of the "Begging for Forgiveness" stage of his cycle of abuse. As someone who was his punching bag for six months, and is now currently his scapegoat, I have learned to recognize the signs and the signals of when he is lying or being truthful.

Cheavy is not actually trying to kill himself. It's a final plea for sympathy and forgiveness. When he knows he isn't going to win with any of his other manipulative tactics, he resorts to threatening to commit suicide to force his victims into forgiving him and providing him with sympathy. I've called the local non-emergency line and spoken to their community response team (the mental health emergency team) multiple times. Every time we think he's attempted suicide, it turns out he hadn't even left his bed. It's almost always a false alarm.

I hope that Cheavy will one day accept their help and seek out more serious therapy to get out of this constant cycle. When I say we want him to get help, I really mean it. We want him to leave the Internet, get help from his local resources, succeed in college and graduate, maybe even make some friends in real life. We want him to live a healthy life. That's our goal.

But the first step he has to take is admitting he has a problem, and ending this cycle of behavior online. But until he does that, we want to prevent more victims from falling into his cycle.

[xxlordalexanderxx]

So, I think I want to make it a bit clear that I'm no longer really into fight threads anymore. I never really was but sometimes they just happened due to plot reasons which I had no issues entertaining. I used to love them, but those who've known me from over a decade ago seen and know the shit I went though that made me more cautious and picky with them. A was never afforded respect or communication let alone had my boundaries respected, Alexander was always treated as a punching bag. So I've grown very jaded towards them. I'm just not interested in spontaneous conflict and I've had a couple people within the past two years abuse that and it took me a while to come to terms with the fact that unless you are within my close knit friend group I will not entertain battles or fights of any kind, not even spars. These past two years have been very shitty for me during my time and return to the RPC and I'm getting very selective.

ESPECIALLY after the Fuckening ™ earlier this year. This isn't about anyone following me currently or vice versa but it is 100% about a couple of folks I am no longer on speaking terms with. You can thank them for adding that nail into the coffin. I know I have a character that's very fightable but honestly I don't care. He's mine and mine to do with as I please. And this goes for all and future characters of mine. I'm sorry if that's upsetting or makes no sense but I want to explore other aspects of Alexander that isn't about how many asses he can beat or how many times he can get his ass handed to him. I've had him since 2014 and then some and he's more than a fucking punching bag for someone's hero muse to conquer or otherwise. Anyway, I'm very 'eh' with tumbler as is, the RPC in some way has been extremally exhausting and the only reason I haven't packed my shit and left is because I still want to write, I still got partners and friends here and I refuse to let people run me off. But I'm setting this clear and hard boundary and would like it respected. Thank you. Maybe somewhere down the line I'll loosen this rule up, but I'm still recovering from a abhorrent event on this site and I'm staying just comfortable in my little corner for the time being and minding my business.

[aetherceuse]

So.

It's been a few weeks since I announced taking a step back from Lusamine's blog, and, I think I'm at a point where I can put my struggles into words.

Before I get into my issue, I'm politely asking that this post is read and digested. In the past, whenever I post about something that I am struggling with in terms of roleplay and community interaction, my post has been used as a springboard for the dash to turn into "vent hour." That isn't what I want. I'm genuinely asking for people to read this, to digest it, and respect the fact that I am having a major issue with writing this character, which has been preventing me from actually being active-- and it is rooted in how the muse, and her information, has been treated.

I'm not tagging this as drama, because it is not drama. This isn't pointed at any individuals, because frankly, it's an issue I have had with writing villains my entire life, and it's only been amplified on Lusamine's blog in particular.

For starters: Lusamine is a beloved muse of mine. She is one of my favorites to sit down, dissect, and write about. It's important for people to understand that all of my canon muses are retellings in a way, but with Lusamine, that's ESPECIALLY important to understand. This Lusamine is not canon, she is a retelling, with her own backstory and world-relevant lore that is very important for people to read, grasp, and understand before proceeding forward with interactions.

However, it doesn't seem as though people really-- respect that, or even bother to read the bio and headcanons that I've written on her. I can tell, because a lot of the interactions I get are people reacting to canon events that haven't happened in my retelling. Mother Beast, for example, hasn't happened, and I've stated that multiple times over and over, yet that seems to be falling on deaf ears.

I really need my writing partners to actually read my content, and understand what I'm doing. I don't write headcanon posts and bios just because I wanna take up space on Tumblr dot com. I write them because they're a crucial part of what I'm doing.

And honestly-- that's not even the biggest issue I've had.

It is EXHAUSTING to open my ask box on a daily basis, and deal with asks sent in just calling her: bitch, cunt, 'Lusa-mean', 'Lusa-bitch', whatever. I don't think you guys understand how mentally taxing, and depressing that is for me. I get it. I'm writing the villain. Lusamine hasn't done great things. But I feel as though people are forgetting that there is an actual, human person sitting behind the inbox, who is writing a character that he loves-- and instead of getting thoughtful engagement, it's a barrage of "bitch." I've had to block people for doing this (IF you are reading this post on the dashboard, that means you're not guilty of doing this.).

But, this extends to the dashboard too. I feel as though I cannot write or do anything without someone dash comming or being automatically aggressive the moment Lusamine even so much as opens her mouth.

It's really, really not fun to be minding my business, and receive asks, IM's, or dash comms of this nature-- especially when I'm trying to write a complex character. I pour my heart and soul into what I write. And it's really sad that I have all of this stuff that people could be reading, interacting with, and reacting too-- and instead people just focus on all of the potential trauma that Lusamine could subject them to. It's not fun. At all. It really makes me feel like shit. I don't want to be used as the target of someone's parental trauma. Just because I am writing a villain, does not mean I am consenting to be nothing but an angst punching bag. I want to write stories, not just receive one-liners and zingers and "AH HAH, GOTCHAS!" in my ask box.

Frankly, I do not have nearly this much of a problem on any of my other antagonist blogs. Even though I'm still subject of whump at many times, it's not nearly as bad anywhere else, as it is on Lusamine's blog. It's really discouraging, and it makes me feel like I'm writing something that people don't really have any care or interest for. I get that my writing can be a little strange and off putting. I know that I dig into uncomfortable topics. It's not for everybody, but, I've never been the type of person to try and appeal to the greater audience. I'm very niche.

We talk about communication in this community a lot. We talk about wanting to interact. We talk about feeling as though engagement is down. And while I sit here and write this, I'm reflecting on that ongoing issue. I really feel as though we can improve the health of peoples' experience in this RPC if we-- y'know-- actually sat down, read what our partners are writing-- and ask questions/engage with it.

I don't know when I'll return to Lusamine's blog. I'm not deleting it obviously, I've put a lot of hard work into her character. But, until I feel as though there's a genuine interest in reading what I have going on, and engaging with it fairly, I'm going to keep my focus on Proton-- because, honestly, I feel really insecure on this account. At least over on Proton, it seems as though people are reading my glitch lore, respecting my muse/worldbuilding, and interacting with it. And it means the world to me. I hope to have that here one day too.

[howlingday]

If you're feeling up for it I Have a Suggestion for the Tragic Backstory™ Au:

Jaune, Exhausted with all the antics of people trying to marry him, or disrupting his families lives, even Nora with her dumb Betting Pool, makes an announcement, finally using the Rumors to his advantage in a way that definitely won't backfire:

His Queen has been fortold; She is one Who's Bones are as tough as steel, Lightning Coursing through her veins as blood, Hair as full and Bright as a Harvest moon, and ... uh ... She Flies like a Comet. A green Comet. Yeah. Nobody like that on Remmnant!

Huh? Penny's Coming to Visit?

I Am Coming Ready!

Jaune: (Takes a deep breath) Okay. Let's do this.

Pyrrha: You're not hyperventilating this time. All those breathing exercises are finally kicking in, huh?

Jaune: I guess. Thanks again for teaching me some tricks to deal with this public speech stuff.

Pyrrha: Of course, Jaune. But, are you sure about this? I mean, you're going to be addressing a lot of people today?

Jaune: I know, but... I have to. This lie has going on for far too long, and I have to tell people the truth.

Ren: She's right, though. At least three of the five Kingdoms will be watching you with keen interest.

Jaune: Three?

Ren: (Nods) Vale, Atlas, and Mistral. There will be hundreds, perhaps even thousands watching your every move, studying, plotting against you to strike at your moment of weakness.

Jaune: ...Did someone bring a brown paper bag?

Nora: I did! (Holds up bag) It's got brownies in it~!

Jaune: ...Can I have one?

Nora: Mmmmmmmmm, no.

Jaune: Can I at least have the bag?

Nora: Mmmmmmmmm-

Ren: It's time, Jaune.

Jaune: But-! But-! My bag!

Nora: Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm-

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

Winter: Here's your report on the repairs, General, sir.

Ironwood: Thank you, Schnee. Leave it on my desk.

Winter: How's the press conference?

Ironwood: It's starting. Look at him, stepping out with such stiff motions. Are we certain he has no bionics?

Winter: There's nothing in Atlas records that confirms this, sir. It could be he's just nervous.

Ironwood: This man took on Adam Taurus, a ruthless leader of an international terrorist cell, and killed a Grimm Dragon that's sliced up one of our battleships. There's no way this man is scared of all five Kingdoms watching him.

Winter: ...Wyvern, sir.

Ironwood: Huh?

Winter: The official reports are calling a "Wyvern," sir.

Ironwood: It's a giant scaly monster with wings and probably breathes fire.

Winter: Still called a "Wyvern," sir.

Ironwood: ...It seems we are at an impasse. Perhaps we should call Penny?

Winter: Unfortunately, sir, Penny isn't here.

Ironwood: Ah, that's right. She took leave. Where did she go?

Winter: She left this morning from the bullhead station, sir.

Ironwood: What bullhead did she leave on?

Winter: She didn't, sir.

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

Theodore: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! That was a good one!

Xanthe: Headmaster, please, I'm begging you. Students are staring. I'm pretty sure he can hear you in Vale.

Theodore: It's funny, though, Rumpole! This kid comes outta nowhere, gets called a king, kills a dragon with a horse and spear, and now he's saying he's not a king to all these people!

Xanthe: It's not that funny.

Theodore: It's hilarious! Oh, I wanna fight him real bad! I've never punched a king before!

Xanthe: Sir, that'll cause an international incident.

Theodore: ...

Xanthe: You'll go to jail.

Theodore: ...

Xanthe: You won't be allowed to fight anymore.

Theodore: ...What about dueling? Would dueling be out of the question?

Xanthe: (Sighs)

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

Jaune: No. No. That's not- Look, whatever beef Adam Taurus and I had was over that night we fought, okay?

Reporter: Beef! Ha! That's going in the paper!

Jaune: No! No! It's not like that!

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

Lil Miss: (Via scroll) You havin' fun out there, girls?.

Melanie: Yes, Mom.

Lil Miss: Good. I'd hate to pay Roman another visit because he still can't take care of you.

Miltia: He's nothing, Mom.

Lil Miss: Nothin but trouble, you mean.

Roman: (Sighs)

Lil Miss: By the way, girls, just makin sure, but you know about that king nonsense goin on, right?.

Melanie: Yes, Mom.

Lil Miss: You girls stay away from all of that business, you hear me?.

Miltia: Aw, but he's so cute!

Lil Miss: And almost half your age, but that's not the point. The point is that boy king is nothin but trouble. Somethin bad is gonna happen to him, I just know it.

Roman: Yeah? And what do you know?

Lil Miss: Oh, you should know that by now, Roman. I know what I know, and I don't give hand-outs.

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

Sienna: More tea?

Kali: No, thank you. (Sips tea) He's doing well, isn't he?

Ghira: They're eating him alive out there.

Sienna: Not even you were this bad in your first public speech, Ghira.

Kali: Really? What was he like?

Sienna: An absolute mess. I actually threw a tomato at him, and he started sniveling!

Ghira: I knew that was you in the crowd!

Sienna: He was going on about "managing our resources" and "not letting what we've gained go to waste"! I felt the mood called for ironic comedy.

Kali: Hahaha! That's so cute!

Ghira: You're both the worst. (Sniffs, Inhales) Promised myself I wouldn't cry.

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

Jaune: No! No! I am not "seducing" anyone for a "progeny"! What the hell are you-?!

Jaune: Okay, you wanna know who I'm dating right now, since you're all so into these fairy tales?! Well, if it'll get you people to leave me and my family alone, then I'll tell you!

Jaune: My "queen" is a woman with bones as hard as iron- No, as steel! With a heart that pumps lightning through her veins! And her hair is a red and foreboding as a Blood Moon! And she has eyes that shine with a light that gleams and glimmers with lover's light! Oh, but here's the kicker! She flies! Yeah, that's right, she soars through the air, faster than any comet or shooting star in the sky! In a ball of green fi-

SHOOOOOOO-BOOM!

Jaune: (Coughs, Waves hand) What the...?

Lisa: Get a camera on him!

Cyril: Yes, ma'am!

Jaune: Wait... PENNY?!

Penny: (Blows dust away, Strikes a pose, Smiling, Pink eyes) I am here for my beloved!

Jaune: Ah... Crap-baskets...