#specifically fourteen who is now bored

[worstwolverinesbf]

there’s this website where you can balance chemical equations and its very fun and i think the doctor would like it

[senseofnewness]

What about the bully fic where reader bullies art?

unsportmanslike conduct

pairing : art donaldson x f!reader (bully!reader)

rating : explicit

word count : 4.6k

contains : smut 18+, bullying, name-calling, handjob, virginity, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), mention of character death

You were a nice girl, you always had been. Anyone could testify to that. From your daddy, who adored you and would move mountains for your pretty eyes, to your clan of friends who followed you around and worshiped the ground you walked on. All would sing your praises. 

However, if anyone asked your classmates, they would describe you as the worst brat the earth has ever carried. Especially that weirdo, Art Donaldson, he would swear you are the very incarnation of the Devil.

You could precisely pinpoint when you first got involved with Art Donaldson, it had been hard to forget. It all started back in 9th grade. You had never talked before that. All you knew about him was that he was a boring nerd who only talked about ping pong, or whatever that sport was, and had a strange homoerotic relationship with his best friend, whom he constantly mentioned. To be honest, you had no interest in getting to know him at all, but this year, you had to tolerate his presence as you two shared a Spanish class.

You had truly started to notice him during one of your Spanish lessons when he had accidentally called the teacher ‘mommy’. The entire class had erupted in laughter as his face had turned a bright shade of red. He had stammered out an immediate apology, but you couldn’t just forget such an awkward moment. Sure, it had been an innocent slip of the tongue, but wasn't he a bit too old to even call his mother that way?

As soon as he had stepped out of the class that day, you had begun teasing him, calling him names and punctuating all your sentences with ‘mommy’s boy’. You had repeatedly asked him all sorts of intrusive questions about his relationship with his mother. No matter how much you had provoked him, he had remained silent, and that infuriated you. So, you had escalated things by involving your friends in the teasing, spreading tales about the bizarre things Art supposedly did with his mother. Perhaps you had been the source of the rumor that he was still breastfed at the ripe age of fourteen. And maybe you had been the one who claimed he slept in his mommy’s bed every time he wet his own, which, according to the rumors, had happened very often. Now the whole school had been in on it.

The truth was, you didn’t give him a second thought when he was out of sight. But as soon as you spotted him, his ridiculous blond curls, his sad downturned eyes, you knew you were in for a bit of twisted amusement. That day, he had been curled up on the steps leading to the physics classrooms, hunched and defeated. His face had been streaked with tears he had tried to brush away, and he looked utterly vulnerable. You had always loved an easy target.

“What’s wrong, Donaldson?” You had taunted, unable to hide the smirk on your face. His eyes had been red and puffy, revealing that he had shed far too many tears. He had sniffled, quickly swiping at the traces of his sadness at the sight of you. When he had opened his mouth to respond, you had cut him off with a sneer. “Missing your mommy?”

That had completely silenced him. He had glared at you with fury in his eyes, his gaze so piercing it could have burned a hole through your head. Without a word, he had stormed off, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

A few days later, you had heard whispers that his mother had been admitted to the hospital. Cancer? Polio? The specifics were vague, but the gravity of it was not. For a moment, a wave of remorse had tugged at you, a shadow of empathy for the boy you had tormented. But that moment had been brief, swallowed quickly by your own indifference to the boy. The memory of his tear-streaked face faded, and soon enough, you had forgotten all about it.

His ill mother didn’t stop you from teasing him throughout high school, it had become a staple of your daily routine. He had made every effort to avoid you, but you had always managed to cross paths with him. It was now sophomore year, and Art Donaldson still ate his lunch outside the cafeteria, away from the crowd, anxious about running into you. But you made sure he didn’t have the chance to avoid you. You had followed him outside, observing from a distance as he enjoyed his home-cooked meal. “Did mommy prepare that for you?” You asked, your voice sharp enough to freeze him in place. You made your presence known by walking over and sitting down beside him, your eyes hungrily staring at the delicious-looking food in his lunch box. The truth was, you had been envious that his parents cared enough to prepare a meal for him. All you had was lunch money and access to your father’s UberEats account. “Really putting the ‘son’ in Donaldson.” You had teased.

He had only sighed in response, his gaze heavy with annoyance, as if you were the most irritating person on earth. You had stared back at him, an innocent grin fixed on your face, daring him to react. He had squinted, holding your gaze with an intensity that caught you off guard. It was then you had noticed, for the first time, that one of his eyes wasn’t as blue as the other, with a hint of brown disrupting the otherwise light color. “Creep.” You had snapped, breaking the moment with a sharp edge in your voice. You had stood up, smoothing the pleats of your skirt with careful precision. “Gotta go. Got better things to do.” You had added, turning on your heel and leaving him behind, with nothing but your contempt for him.

You had thought you were done with him for the day, but that very same afternoon, as you had been smoking a cigarette with your friends a few feet from the school gates, when someone had tapped you on the shoulder. You had turned around, surprised to see him standing there. He had been the last person you had expected to approach you.

“I need you to quit being a bitch and fucking leave me alone.” He had demanded, his face set with a determination you hadn’t seen before. His request had taken you by surprise. Until then, he had always stayed silent in the face of your teasing. You had assumed it didn’t bother him, which had only fueled your desire to push his limits even further.

“Wow. You grew balls, Donaldson?” You had challenged, standing defiantly in front of him with your hands on your hips. It had struck you then how much taller he had grown over the past few years. He wasn’t a little boy anymore; he was starting to look like a man. His arms had become as thick as your thighs, and if he had wanted to smack you, you would have probably gone flying across the yard. But you hadn’t been scared of him. Despite the muscles, he had still been a pussy in your eyes. “Don’t need your mommy anymore?” You had scoffed, a smirk curling at the corner of your mouth as you had locked eyes with him. You had taken a long drag of your cigarette and blown the smoke directly into his face.

“You see, Donaldson, the thing is I don’t care what you need.” You had said, stepping closer until you had been practically chest to chest with him, invading his space. He had closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a deep, frustrated sigh as he had tried to keep his composure. Without another word, he had turned and walked away. As soon as he had been out of earshot, you had turned to your friends, a victorious smile spreading across your face. Silence had hung in the air for a second before you had all burst into laughter, the sound echoing around the yard like a cruel choir.

Despite your attitude, you had somewhat left him alone after that. You weren’t actively seeking him out to stir up trouble, you would only teased him if he happened to cross your path. You had far more pressing concerns than Art Donaldson. It was senior year, and you needed to secure a spot in a prestigious university to avoid having your parents cut you off completely. You were determined to study communication and become a journalist and Stanford had always been your dream, but you were unsure if your grades were high enough to make that dream a reality.

Aside from academics, boys had consumed a significant portion of your attention. This year, you had started catching their eye, thanks to having finally gotten rid of your braces and your breasts having grown three sizes. Now, nearly every weekend had been filled with dates. No one had formally asked you to be their girlfriend yet, but you were enjoying being the center of their attention. You believe that one could never be too experienced.

The next time you had really interacted with Art Donaldson was during senior year, in history class, a period that had felt more like an opportunity for a beauty sleep than a lesson. The teacher’s monotonous voice had been more effective than any lullaby. Plus, he didn’t seem to care much about whether students followed along, as long as they kept their noise level low enough for him to remain buried in his book.

You had been reapplying your makeup, having just spent recess making out with that boy from the basketball team in the boys' restroom. The encounter had left your makeup smudged, so now you were carefully touching up your lip gloss. Art had been seated two rows in front of you, to the right, but despite the distance, you had felt his gaze fixed on you. When you had glanced up, you had caught him staring intently at your tits. Looking down, you had noticed your shirt revealing more breasts than intended, but what had truly captured his attention was the hint of your areola peeking through the edge of your shirt. When you had looked up at him again, he was still completely engrossed in your cleavage. 

“Wanna suck on my tit like you do with mommy, Donaldson?” You had asked with a smirk, adjusting your shirt to cover yourself. He had looked up, his face flushing bright red, and he had quickly turned away, pulling his hood up to hide his embarrassment. “Shut up.” He had mumbled, his voice muffled as he covered his face with his hoodie.

The teacher had called both your names. “Both of you are staying after class for detention.” Detention? Was he serious? This was all that fucker’s fault. “Sir, I didn’t do anything wrong! He was the one looking at me inappropriately, all drooling and stuff.” The teacher had lifted his gaze from his glasses, eyebrows raised. “Should I call the principal?” You certainly didn’t need that kind of incident on your record. “No.” You had replied quickly, shaking your head.

“I can’t believe that you are, of all people, in detention.” You said, glancing over at Art, who was seated in the chair right next to yours. “Maybe if you weren’t such a creep.” The teacher had left you both in class to write an essay about respect. Most teachers trusted you to be left alone, given your role as class representative. As for Art, he was known as the quiet kid who stayed out of trouble and avoided problems. The essay had only taken ten minutes to finish, and now you were bored out of your mind. What more was there to say about respecting your peers? You were respectful, after all, it wasn’t your fault if Art Donaldson happened to be a perv.

Initially, you had thought that teasing him would provide enough entertainment, but his lack of response to your incessant questions had left you frustrated. So, you had decided to try a different tactic. “Wanna smoke?” You had asked, breaking the silence with a nonchalant tone, offering a small, mischievous smile as you had waited for his reaction.

“How? We’re stuck in here.” He had said with a shrug of his shoulders. You had rolled your eyes, walked over to the window, and opened it. Perching on the edge, you had lit the blunt and taken a deep drag, savoring the smoke. “What’s that sport you’re into, already?” You had asked, passing him the joint. “Tennis.” He had replied, taking a long puff that made him cough. You had chuckled, amused at his obvious inexperience. “Are you any good?” You had inquired, snatching the cone back. You had heard he was quite skilled and had accumulated a fair number of trophies. He had shrugged dismissively. 

“Does your mommy come to watch your matches?” You had asked, your tone teasing. His expression had darkened. “You should just quit the mommy thing already.” He had mumbled, while picking at the skin around his nails. “Why? Is it turning you on?” You had teased, watching as a faint blush colored his cheeks. You had taken another drag from the blunt, filling your lungs with the smoke before exhaling slowly. “It’s getting old!” He had snapped, and you had looked at him in surprise at his sudden outburst. “I like it. It’s fun.” You had said with a shrug, unbothered.

“Is being a cunt the only way you know how to have fun?” You had stared at him in disbelief, flicking the joint out of the window. Standing defiantly in front of him, even though he had been towering over you, you had placed your hand against his crotch, giving it a firm, deliberate squeeze. “You really have grown a pair!” He had grabbed your wrist, trying to make you stop, but you had continued to massage his groin with a mix of defiance and amusement.

He had stared into your eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. There had been something unsettling in his gaze that had made you reconsider what you had thought about him previously. Maybe Art Donaldson had, in fact, been attractive, just a little. His tall, athletic frame had spoken of his years of tennis training, as had his strong hands and muscular thighs. His messy blond curls had framed a chiseled jaw and a long, straight nose, while his blue eyes, though often shadowed by his hair, had held a depth that was hard to ignore. What had always made him utterly unappealing had been his status as a ‘mommy’s boy’, a label that had clung to him like a second skin. Yet, perhaps, you had been the only reason he had been perceived as such. Aside from the accidental ‘mommy’ incident, he had never exhibited anything that might have cast doubt on his relationship with his mother. He had not even been remotely weird, he had just been a passionate boy.

Maybe he had not been as much of a loser as you had thought. Or maybe it was the horniness in you speaking. You had slipped your hand into his pants and had grasped his length. Maybe you were playing him, or maybe you were driven by your own desire, you were unsure. His cock had been of a decent size, certainly better than some you had encountered in the past. You even had seen worse earlier that day in the cramped restroom when you had knelt for that guy, John, or had it been Jake? Proof that tall boy did not always mean big dick. You had wrapped your hand around Art’s member and had begun to stroke him slowly. He had immediately buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your expensive perfume. Things had not been as slick as you had hoped, so you had briefly pulled away to spit into your mouth. Returning to his shaft, you had spread the gob of saliva over his length, making the process a bit easier.

The fact that he had not been gazing at you with his usual puppy eyes had made the whole process easier. You had managed to imagine it was anyone but him you were touching. But this pretense hadn’t lasted long. As you had continued to stroke him, he had pulled away to lock eyes with you, desperate moans escaping his lips. Leaning in closer, he had closed the gap between your faces. Art Donaldson had begun kissing you, and to your surprise, you had leaned into the kiss while fisting his cock with urgency.

When your tongue had finally met his, you had heard him whimper, and instantly felt his warm, slimy cum spreading across your hand and wrist. He had broken the kiss to glance at the mess he had made, his face reddening with shame. “Fuck, I’m so sorry!” He had exclaimed, clearly humiliated that the entire experience had been so brief. “Ew.” You had responded with a look of clear revulsion, your eyes narrowing as you had released your grip and moved to grab a paper towel from the teacher’s desk. You had used it to wipe your hand clean, your expression one of utter distaste.

You had been aware that boys at that age often didn't last long, but this had been a new record. After discarding the paper towel in the trash, you had returned to your seat quietly. The room had been heavy with an uncomfortable silence as both of you had remained motionless, ashamed by what had just happened : him because he had lasted a second and you because you had jerked off the school’s creep. It had been so underwhelming that you had wished you could erase it from your memory entirely. You could already imagine the reactions from your friends if they found out you had, of all people, jerked off Art Donaldson, the infamous bed-wetter. The thought alone made your stomach turn with embarrassment.

After several minutes of suffocating silence, Art had finally broken it. “You know, she died.” His voice had been a faint murmur. You had wished he would just ignore you and not speak to you. You had already been hating yourself for being so weak in front of him. “Who?” You had asked, feigning disinterest despite the knot tightening in your chest. You could feel the answer coming and it was going to break you. “My mom.” He had said, his whisper heavy with pain. It had been evident he had struggled to say the words out loud. You had turned to face him, your mouth opening as if to offer an apology, but the words had never come. Apologizing had not been something you were used to, and the magnitude of your regret had left you feeling utterly helpless. You had never felt so foolish and ashamed, realizing how your relentless teasing had tormented him further. You had looked away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze or your own guilt. “I’m sorry.” You had murmured, barely audible.

When the teacher had returned at the end of the hour, you had been relieved to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the classroom, which had reeked of weed and musk. “Thank God!” You had muttered as you had stood up, eager to leave behind the uncomfortable encounter.

He had tried to talk to you in the following days but only faced your avoidance. You had been resolute in your decision to ignore him, unwilling to be seen with him in public and still eaten alive by guilt over the ‘mommy’ incident. You hadn’t understood why he had persisted in wanting to talk to you either, especially given how mortified he should have been about coming so quickly.

Eventually, you had given in when you had spotted him with his cap on backwards. There had been something oddly attractive about the way he wore that outfit. From the golden locks falling from under the brim of the hat and how his nose had seemed so defined, to the way he had been wearing those short shorts that showed his thick smooth thighs. He had been carrying his tennis bag, likely on his way to practice, but you had seized the opportunity to lure him into your car when no one else had been around.

“I have tennis practice!” He had protested, reluctance evident in his voice. “Your boyfriend can wait.” You had replied with a sigh as you had turned off the engine. “My boyfriend?” He had questioned, clearly puzzled. “Philip. Or whatever.” You had said dismissively, growing increasingly impatient. “Patrick? He’s not my boyfriend!” He had insisted, but you had stared at him skeptically. “Whatever. Get in!” You had commanded. “No, I will be late.” He had refused. “Listen, Donaldson, I’m going to say this only once. I won’t repeat myself. If you refuse, it won’t happen again.” You had warned, your grip tightening on the steering wheel. “I’m horny and I’m ready to fuck just anyone.” You had confessed. You had watched him swallow hard, his resolve breaking as he had hurried into the car, buckling his seatbelt with visible eagerness.

After a few minutes of driving with Art's incredulous gaze fixed on you, you had parked in a secluded spot within a forest. The location was discreet enough to avoid drawing unwanted attention but close enough to the road to feel accessible. Once you had turned off the engine, you had moved to the back seat, signaling him to follow. He had simply watched as you removed your sweats and panties, his face flushed a deep crimson that spread to his ears. "Come on, already." You had urged, exasperated by his hesitation. Eventually, he had joined you in the back seat, his movements awkward and tentative. After that, you had straddled him and taken him in the backseat of your car, guiding him through the experience with clear instructions. You could tell he was a virgin by his clumsy movements and how quick he had orgasmed. So, you had taken charge, orchestrating every detail of the act. You had enjoyed the power of control, delighting in the way Art was so obedient to you. As you had rode him, driving him closer to climax, you had placed his hat atop your own head, a symbol of your dominance. With each bounce on top of him, you had moved with an intensity that made it feel as though your very life depended on it.

Every time you had promised yourself to never repeat the cycle and fuck that weirdo, you had found yourself parked in the same spot, this loser under you. You had mostly used him, fucking yourself on him like he was merely a toy. You only had allowed him to touch you when it suited your own pleasure, indifferent to whether he came or not. Yet, despite your best efforts, he always ended up coming far too soon, often leaving you to finish yourself with him limp beneath you. Nothing had frustrated you more than his premature release. Art Donaldson had been a bad fuck initially, the pleasure had come from how effortlessly you could dominate him and make him do whatever you wanted of him. However, to his credit, he had improved with time. He had now managed to climax only a few seconds before you did.

Without intending to, it had become a regular occurrence. You had ended up having sex with him several times a week. Eventually, you had ventured beyond the confines of your car and had started visiting his house. When you had met his grandmother for the first time, she had asked. “Is she your girlfriend?” You had shot a sharp glance at Art, waiting for him to respond. Instead, he had stammered out a few incoherent sounds. “I’m not. Just a classmate.” You had cut him off. His bed had been far more comfortable than the backseat of your car, but the incessant interruptions by his grandmother had made you miss the privacy of your vehicle. Had she not knocked before entering to bring you fruits, she would have found you sitting on her precious grandson’s face. 

That was one thing you had come to appreciate about Art, if you could even call it appreciation. He had never hesitated to focus on your pleasure, regardless of his own. You had taught him everything you knew about sex, and he had become entirely dedicated to your satisfaction. And despite the fact that you feigned not caring about him, you found yourself eager to watch him climax as well. Perhaps you hadn’t been entirely wrong, he was indeed a submissive little boy who needed a strong woman’s presence to guide him through sex and allow him to come. A true mommy’s boy.

While your relationship outside of class had shifted dramatically, you had continued to treat him poorly at school. You still didn’t want to be seen with him in public. But now, instead of mocking him in front of all your friends, you simply ignored him. A small gesture for the guy who had made you come after school hours.

One day, while you were having lunch with your friends, he had approached your table. “Hey.” He had said, but you had merely glanced at him with a disdainful frown. “You’re needed.” He had added when you didn’t acknowledge his greeting. “Why are you talking to me, mommy’s boy?” You had retorted, your voice dripping with irritation. All your friends had been watching, bewildered by his intrusion. “It’s about a certain detention.” He had said, his tone serious. Anger rose within you, and your friends began to bombard you with questions. You had shrugged nonchalantly. “Must be because I smoked weed.” You had explained, though you knew there was more to it than just that.

You had followed him through the hallways, glaring at the back of his head as if you could burn a hole through him. “Who even allowed you to talk to me in public?” You had snapped as he had guided you toward the restrooms. “Be quick.” You had added with a sneer. “I don’t want to be seen with a loser like you. It’d be social suicide.” You had slammed the door behind you and locked it with a decisive click. Without hesitation, you had dropped your panties to your ankles and bent over the sink, pushing your hips back. As you had adjusted your position, he had fallen to his knees and lifted your skirt, his lips leaving burning kisses against the exposed skin of your ass. 

Sure, you were the one in control in this relationship, acting solely on your own desires. So why had you allowed him to pleasure you like this? He had been the one to seek out your company while you were busy with friends, not the other way around. Maybe you were beginning to enjoy this arrangement a bit more than you had anticipated. Not as much as he seemed to, though, judging by the sounds escaping his mouth as he eagerly lapped at your pussy like a starving dog. “Say it.” You murmured, eyes locked on your reflection in the mirror. “I know you’re dying to.” You had grasped the edge of the sink, closing your eyes against the overwhelming sensation of his tongue exploring your folds.

“M-m..mommy.” He had moaned, his mouth focused on pleasuring your clit. The name made you smirk, maybe you weren’t really the nice girl you had always thought yourself to be.

♠♣♥♦

a/n : idk felt inspired to bully that little bitch, thanks for the reminder anon

[animestsstuff2]

Prom Queen

Yuji itadori X Femreader

Part 1!

Prompt: in which Yuji asks the you to the prom…or tries to.

Content warning: slight bullying, highschool, characters are 18, normal verse, hatred,

＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾

You sat at your desk looking at your bubbling classmates as they talked of the upcoming prom. You glanced over and seen as Nobara walked in. Her eyes finding yours and a small smile tipped onto her lips as she took her seat beside you.

“Ugh, all i’ve been hearing about is the stupid prom” She groaned. Her face falling into her hands which made you giggle.

“I thought you were excited for the prom?” You teased bumping her shoulder as she lifted her head up.

“Well yeah, obviously im excited. Hello? Im gonna be the best dressed but its not for like another week. I don’t understand why everyone is fussing this much” she sighed and your eyes widened.

“Uh—Nobara, prom is, like, in two days” Her head spun round to you. Her eyes wide and mouth parted.

“What?! Its in two days! Why didn’t you remind me. I don’t even have a dress Y/N!” She cried. You just laughed as she whipped her phone out and immediately began searching local dress stores.

“We are going after school today” You opened your mouth to disagree and mention your backed up homework when she narrowed her eyes in a glare. “Nu uh! Its final, no objections”

The bell rung and you all departed from home room. You and Nobara headed to your different morning classes, bumping and shoving your way through the busy halls as people stood with their friends or ran for their own classes.

The lunch bell rang and you rose from your seat with a groan. Math had been especially boring. You could barely keep your eyes open as you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed to the lunch hall to meet Nobara.

You found her in your usual spot, setting your lunch tray down beside her. Her nose was glued to her phone as she mumbled to herself.

“Still looking at prom dresses?” You asked, picking at your food. She glanced up and gave a firm nod.

“C’mon eat some lunch” You poked your fork at her hand and she finally pulled her head from her phone and sighed. Her forehead was wrinkled and brows furrowed.

“I can’t believe I forgot about the date of prom” she moaned again and you just rolled her eyes, eating at some of your food.

“Yeah? Not like you to forget a chance to dress up. Someone been distracting you?” you teased as your eyes darted over to the twins, specifically Maki. She caught your eye and you glanced back to Nobara who now had pink cheeks.

“Y/N! Don’t be so obvious!” She cried.

“When are you going to tell me whats been going on huh?” You pushed and she shook her head, turning her nose up.

“Nothin’ to tell” She mumbled puffing her cheeks out.

“You’ve got someone staring at you” She sung and you turned your head round to find who she was talking about when your eyes landed on Yuji Itadori and you rolled your eyes.

“Him? Get over yourself Nobara. I can’t stand Yuji” You reminded her, loosing your appetite as you placed your fork down.

“You’re such a grouch. It happened so long ago, why bother to still be mad?” She asked, picking at her own food.

“Y’know why and it’s perfectly reasonable to hold a grudge everyone does it” you snorted, turning your face to find Yuji still looking at you. He gave a small smile which you rolled your eyes at.

“Yeah for like a week? Not fourteen years Y/N” She giggled a bit at your expression. You were so easily wound up when it came to Yuji.

“So! He deserves it. I don’t want to talk about it anymore” She opened her mouth but the bell rang and cut her off. You quickly stood and grabbed your bag and tray and walked off. Nobara quickly followed.

Your eyes met once more with Yuji’s and you quickly looked away. Yuji Itadori, the well-loved and popular boy of your year. He was friends with everyone and everyone adored him..well everyone except you. How could they not? He was handsome, friendly and nice to everyone.

You ignored Nobara’s calls as you continued your way down the hall. You hated Yuji Itadori with your whole heart, sure everyone loved him for how he presented himself. But you knew who he was, what he was truly liked and you couldn’t stand how false he really was.

You found yourself now in science class with your teacher Mr. Gojo. Your favourite class with one of your favourite teachers. The only downside of this class was that Yuji was unfortunately in it but luckily kept to himself.

You couldn’t find yourself able to focus as your mind drifted to Yuji. Your fingers curled into your palms as Gojo’s words drifted farther from your ears.

You were reminded once more of what he did. How he teased you terribly during childhood. You grew up in the same neighbourhood as Yuji and were forced every. Singe. Day to play with him. He was the only other kid in the neighbourhood for you to play with and you hated it.

He pushed and pulled you, cut your hair and blamed everything on you. He ruined your dresses, broke your toys and forced you into things you didn’t want to do. Your mind flashed with a vivid memory of when your parents brought you over and forced you both in the backyard to play. That was the day you cut yourself so badly after he pushed you out of his treehouse.

What bothered you even more was how bipolar he was. You would go over and he’d be ever so timid, quiet and nervous and others he’d torture you but who would ever believe sweet little Yuji?

“Y/N?” You blinked quickly as your eyes glanced up to find Mr. Gojo stood in front of you. Your eyes met his and you swallowed dryly.

“Is my class not exciting enough?” Your cheeks tinged pink at his question and you shook your head.

“N-No sorry sir! I—I didn’t get much sleep last night” you scratched the back of your head nervously. He hummed and just turned away to continue his lesson.

“Very well. I suppose then you’ll need help to get caught up..” he waved his hand lazily. “Yuji, you can help Y/N”

Your eyes widened and you quickly opened your mouth to interject when he turned his head. His eyes meeting yours and you quickly shut it in agreement. He smiled softly. You liked your teacher Gojo but he was intimidating. He rarely got serious or shouted but when he did it was like a storm.

The class continued and soon the bell rang. You were the first out having packed early and almost jumped from your seat as you pushed through the doorway. You could hear Yuji calling you. His voice almost made your head split in two as you continued to rush through the hall desperate to get away.

You rounded a corner and slammed your back to the wall, letting out a short breath as you closed your eyes praying you’d lost him as the hallway quickly filled up. You opened your eyes and you gasped as you found him stood in front of you, looking up to meet his crinkled eyes as he smiled at you.

“Hey! Whats the rush? Gojo wants me to help you-“ you shoved at his shoulder and quickly slipped by him immediately rushing again when a hand clamped down on your shoulder and stopped you.

Your stomach twisted and you could feel a sweat build on your skin. You could feel your head grow sore. The anger bubbling in your chest.

“Wai-wait! Hold up. Is something wrong?” You looked over your shoulder and met his eyes that widened upon meeting your glaring eyes.

“Something wrong? Please, get over yourself Yuji. I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help so forget about what Mr. Gojo said” You ripped your shoulder from his grip and began walking.

“And don’t follow me!”

…

“Really?! Mr. Gojo paired you and Yuji together? I think almost every teacher is aware of your hatred for Yuji after Miss Utahime paired you together once for English. You begged her every single class to swap you” Nobara giggled as you walked around the shopping mall.

“Yeah and to think he had the nerve to come after me and act serious about it!” You were seething still as you entered a dress boutique.

“Yeah but y’know Mr. Gojo. He’s always doing things like that” She replied and you just nodded.

You looked around the dress shop, picking at dresses and pulling them out to glance at. Nobara ended up with a fitting black dress that had an asymmetric neck line. It flowed out a bit after her knees. It suited her very well. The red heels she bought with it were bold like her.

You opted for a very pale light pink dress with a sweetheart neckline. It had a corset like upper-half which flowed out in transparent layers at your hips. You smiled as you payed and bagged it. It wasn’t too dramatic and suited your style.

You headed to the foodcourt with Nobara who spotted Maki and Inumaki together. You seen her cheeks tinge as they approached you.

“Hey Nobara. You get your dress for prom?” She asked looking down on your friend who just stumbled over her words.

“Hey, it’s Y/N? Right” Inumaki asked and you looked at him nodding. He gave you a grin as Maki dragged Nobara over to get some food. You and Inumaki followed.

“Are you excited for prom?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah I guess so, are you?” He nodded as well. You found some food and grabbed some seats.

“Yeah. Its not really my thing but Maki and Todo are forcing me to go” you laughed a bit relating as Nobara was begging you to go with her.

“Yeah? Its got me all stressed, buying dresses, makeup and hair. Then you’re also meant to have a date but I don’t think i’ll bother asking someone” You sighed and he nodded agreeing.

“Yeah? If someone asked you though would you say yes?” You peered up at him after swallowing your food.

“Hmm, maybe. If i knew them well enough. I’m not interested in anyone specifically so it would just be as friends” he just nodded and began eating his own food. You looked at Maki and Nobara who were giggling to themselves. Nobara’s cheeks were redder now as Maki pushed some hair from her face.

You all continued hanging out until it was time to leave. You gave Maki and Nobara some privacy as you and Inumaki headed to the exit and unfortunately ran into the very person who you hated.

“Inumaki! Hey—oh Y/N, what are you doing together?” Yuji asked as his brows furrowed a bit. He stood with his friend Megumi and Todo.

“Why are you asking? Its not any of your business” You shot back crossing your arms and walking away from him.

“Hmm. I heard she doesn’t like you but I didn’t think it was that bad” Inumaki commented and Todo laughed as his hand came down on Yuji’s shoulder.

“Hate? She despises Yuji with every fibre in her being it’s hilarious!” He chuckled. Yuji just looked defeated as he sighed and glanced at your now retreating figure which had been joined by Nobara.

“Why though?” Maki asked coming to stand behind Inumaki.

“Thats the thing! I don’t know. She’s hated me since we were kids!” Yuji groaned as he rubbed his head.

“Yeah and its ironic because he’s got the fattest crush on her ever. You should hear him sometimes. All he does is go on about trying to make her like him but he always seizes up every-time shes near” Todo laughed loudly again as he squeezed Yuji’s shoulder. The pink haired boys cheeks now matched his hair as Todo just aired out his little secret.

“Ha! As if you’d ever have a chance. That girl hates you Yuji. Nobara tells me all the time” Maki barked as she crossed her arms. Yuji just puffed his cheeks out and huffed.

“Whatever. Im outta here” he turned and shoved Todo away from him as he marched off.

＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾＾

@klaramaskalla89

[therealvinelle]

Why doesn’t anyone believe Harry in HBP?

I expect you meant to ask why no one believes Harry about Voldemort's return in Order of the Phoenix.

I think it's very reasonable for no one to believe Harry about that.

Consider what the average wizard knows:

Lord Voldemort died fourteen years ago, there have been no signs of life since (remember the Quirrel debacle was not made public knowledge)

Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory go to wherever the Triwizard Cup took them, Harry comes back with Cedric's corpse, in a state of shock

What happened to Cedric, you ask? Oh, Voldemort resurrected himself in a graveyard, killed Cedric, and then Harry escaped miraculously

This one's Fudge specific, but: the other evidence presented is that Severus Snape's Dark Mark is black now. (Avid readers will remember Fudge's reaction wasn't "ah, naturally that mark is connected to the Dark Lord's power and the color means he's regained his power!" but rather "Dumbledore, why the fuck is this a Death Eater in this school teaching children?")

There is no other sign of Voldemort. No one has seen him, heard from him, there are no incidents attributed to him. The Order can say "this disappearance must be linked to him!" all they like, there's no proof.

In a horrifying reveal, Barty Crouch Jr. had escaped prison, imperiused his father for the better part of a year, and finally killed him and then made the Triwizard Cup a portkey, using this to take the winner(s) to a secret location where he killed Diggory in front of Harry Potter. Crouch, a madman, was then given the Dementor's Kiss.

Ask yourself now, and picture yourself as a regular wizarding world citizen: do you think a dark wizard who's been dead for fourteen years suddenly rose from the dead, killed a boy, conveniently let the other escape, and then went back to doing nothing, when there was in fact a murderous lunatic present at Hogwarts who could easily have done all of these things? Or do you think that the boy who survived all this, who is already an orphan after said dark wizard killed his family as a child, might have let his imagination take over?

Alternatively, that the most famous boy in the wizarding world is now growing up and he wants to be a little heroic, so instead of a boring dead convict it was the much more exciting, miraculously resurrected, Lord Voldemort who killed Cedric before Harry miraculously escaped?

The slogan was INSANE OR LIAR and I can frankly see why. Is it a horrible thing to print up and down on the front page for months, yes, is it made worse by Harry's young age, also yes, but was it a reasonable conclusion? Frankly, yes.

I wouldn't have believed Harry either.

As for Harry's response, Harry is at that age and has that personality type where he says something, he knows it's true, therefore anyone who disagrees is either stupid or malicious. And since they are stupid and malicious anyway, there's no point in bothering with them.

[yellowocaballero]

hi!! loved New Wave & its Jason addition, was wondering if you have any Opinions about the weird characterization of Jason in the comics/fandom?

Oh Jesus. You are talking to a certified fanon Batfam hater jkaljdsfkljsdf. In some senses, yes I do.

I see more 'good or at least interesting' depictions of Jason than I do pretty much any other Batfam character. A lot of the best Batfam fic has an extremely strong Jason POV. From a group dynamics perspective, having a Jason is important. Jason is important: his death irrevocably altered Batman as a series, marked a serious turning point in kid sidekicks and comics as a whole, and created a few pretty good storylines.

It's hard to say 'what's the real Jason characterization', because he constantly cross-contaminates himself. Jason's character is little more than the lens through which he's viewed, and what comes afterwards. Pre-Crisis Jason is indistinguishable from Dick. Post-Crisis Jason isn't that different either, until they decided to kill him, at which point they very quickly gave him all of his character traits we know him for today. Retrospectives on Jason for twenty years were of both this pre-post-humorous angry/impulsive version and The Dead Kid nostalgia, and now they're colored by his Red Hood anger and 'glory days' nostalgia. And then we've had the Batfam-ization of Batman comics and none of that matters anyway, because they're blorbos now.

@lazuliquetzal has remarked several times that the real problem with Red Hood is that you can use him for drama, like, once or twice - that he's a very good foil character for one or two very specific storylines. I agree. I think further usage of the RH as a villain should be separated from the Batfam, since you can't reconcile his pro-killing stance with the Batfam non-killing stance. Give him a different story if you want, but I think it's hard to slot the actual Red Hood character back into the Batfam. Not even sure that you should.

I think the main thing for me is that I don't understand why the 'good end' is always 'Bring Jason Home!' - why reconciliation is mandatory, why what we want is him moving back into the manor and having family dinners. Why. He's 19. Let him live by himself in his shitty apartment and smoke weed and shittalk his dad. He's an adult, he doesn't have to talk to any of you if he doesn't want to. He really doesn't want to. There is more than one way for a family to function, and it doesn't have to look like family dinners.

Regarding fic: obviously the softening and defanging is boring. There's an entire genre of stories where 'Jason hates Tim until he actuall meets him, at which point he's blasted by Tim's #woobie and starts taking care of him", but in the '10s the biggest conflict with Jason is that he irrationally hates a fourteen year old who did nothing wrong completely to the point where he keeps on trying to kill him. For a decade he was just melodramatic yelling. I think people are more interested in writing cute dynamics than they are characters, and Jason is forced into the sympathetic family dynamic as a result. Comics now do this too, because, fandomization,

Young Jason stories are also entirely whump, which is obviously boring. I've mentioned this before, but a big part of my thoughts behind the NW!Jason fic are just that there are a lot of 'Jason comes to the manor' fics, and in very little of them do Jason and Bruce actually like each other. It's pure whump and family bonding over any actual interest in the characters. Thing about whump is just - put in literally any character there, it doesn't matter. Pick anyone. Who cares.

This is all ignoring the number one biggest thing for me, which is: the fandom is obsessed with Jason, and I am sick of Jason, it is all Jason. Even Tim is worse off in comparison, because he gets moe blob'd so Jason can take care of him. Go write the women. Seriously. Jason's a whump magnet and it's exhausting, go write Cass Cain having a character arc.

TL;DR: Batfam fanfic only cares about cute brotherly fluff and whump and it is so fucking bad, man.

[mekachu04]

23. Morning

Kidd - 6 | Killer - 10?

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Kidd gets named

Killer gets a birthday

more scottish holidays I'm trying to twist to fit into one piece

holidays would be the most reliable way for a bunch of homeless kids to keep track of time

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

Besides counting the fourteen days between dock pays, Killer also carefully counted quarter days. He had no paper contracts - he wouldn't be able to read them anyway - but its when pay ledgers would be checked, and extra hands would be let go. Leases would be up and one either paid for the next few months or made sure to be out the door before the landlords caught on you'd been squatting there in the first place.

It was also a chance to get hired again and get steady work. And Killer put his best face forward every Martinmas; winter was the most important time to get work. Work meant pay, sure. But good work also meant being warm in the day, sometimes a meal at lunch, and if really lucky, a safe hidy-hole to sleep after dark.

Killer, who was good with numbers and likes sussing out the patterns they made, loved this time of year. Martinmas started on 11/11 and lasted 2 months and 22 days ending on 2/2 on Candlemas, and Killer had always felt that must mean it a lucky time of year. Last year had been hard - the docks were still recovering from the fire and the only people with extra coin for the season hadn't wanted two little boys on staff.

32 days after First-Foot and 23 days after he'd given the last of their coins to the kid, Killer had taken the tiny stub of their last candle and boldly joined the woman who marched to Februa. He's watch them march every year to get their candle's blessed, and Killer needed all the blessings he could get, even if it just meant a candle he'd hope would last a little longer.

The women around him would point and whisper at him as he walked with them, but when his bravado started to fail him, he was saved by the kid who'd gotten bored begging at his assigned corner and left to find him. He was munching on an already partially eaten sandwich, before offering it to Killer. Killer - who was indeed hungry - took a bite before giving it back.

The whispers started up again, and Killer wished he hadn't taken the bite, it knotting up in his gut.

"Whose children are these?" One woman asked finally, addressing the others.

He just wanted his candle blessed. Now he was pretty sure he'd messed up somewhere. Thankfully, the kid didn't seem to notice the unease and stayed focused on his meal.

At least until the woman grabbed his arm, and he dropped the coveted food when she practically lifted the little boy off the ground - "Whose kid is this!"

Killer could have bitten her, and certainly would if she carried on like that, "Hey! Hey, he's mine, let him go!"

She frowned at him, expression unhappy still, "Excuse me?"

"He's mine!"

"Where's your mother?" one woman asked; Killer had no answer to that. "What do you mean he's yours?" asked another, and Killer wasn't sure how to answer that either.

"Is this your bother?" the woman ask the kid instead. He looked just as unsure how to answer as Killer.

"He's my kid! Give him back!" Killer declared, both boys starting to get upset.

One of the women took pity on them it seemed, and she stepped up to whisper something to get first woman to let go of the kid. Killer grabbed his hand and meant to run away, but the woman who's asked about their mothers knelt down to block their way.

"Hi, Kidd, I'm so sorry about your sandwich. But I saw you come over to share it with.. uh…"

"This is Killer." he said it without hesitation, clinging to Killer. He was more upset by Killer being upset at the moment, the whole ordeal making little sense to him.

"I saw you share it with Killer while he waited in line with us. That was very thoughtful of you."

He grinned, and Killer relaxed just a fraction.

She pulled out beri note, and put it into Kidd's free left hand, "Hey, Kidd, why don't you go and get you and Killer a new one?"

Both the boys face dropped in surprise at the paper bill. Kidd practically shoved it in Killer's face, with an awed 'look!'

Beri was off island money; it was worth a lot to the right people. Worth more then the numbers printed on it.

"It's too much…" he didn't mean to say it, but the words slipped out before Killer could stop them. Kidd looked at him curiously.

The woman's smile is still kind but incredibly sad. "Is it just the two of you then? Or are there others?"

"Just us," Kidd pipped up, the beri note having been folded up and put in the little drawstring bag his birthday coins has been in.

"Wh.." she pursed her lips, tilting her head and tried again, "Do you understand what the march to Februa is for?"

"Killer's getting our candle blessed."

Killer showed her their candle stub.

"It's just the two of you?" she asks again, and Kidd nods before Killer can tell him to stop, starting to feel nervous.

But she looks thoughtful, "Is this the first year it's just been the two of you then?"

"The kid's been mine since the coup."

"Okay," she smiles, and when she stands, she ushers Killer in front of her with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

A few of the women had hung back waiting for her as the rest had marched on. "This is Kidd," she says, touching Kidd's red hair first, "and this is Killer," she said, her hand going from his shoulder to his hair too. "This is the first year Killer has had Kidd, and he's going to get get their last candle blessed."

He was still doing it wrong, Killer realized, but the laughs were kind, their smiles no longer mocking but sweet. The woman's hand was warm and soothing where it lingered on his head. They looked at him like people looked at Kidd when he did something cute. The beri woman kept a hand on them the whole way, and no one asked again why they were there. When it was Killer's turn, words where exchanged in advanced, and a confused man said a prayer on his candle.

It would several year later before Kidd would sit up suddenly one night, hours after they should have both been sleeping. Killer bolted upright the moment he did - a light sleeper to the point to of detriment - but also something that had saved their asses many a times. "What it is?!" he whispered harshly when he couldn't figure out what woke Kidd up.

Kidd looked at him accusingly in the low light, "When is your fucking birthday?"

"Wha… what?"

"How do I not know this? How have we never celebrated your birthday?!"

Exhausted, Killer plopped back down, arm slung over his face. "Go the fuck back to sleep."

"No, seriously," Kidd shoved his shoulder, and when that didn't work, pulled Killer's arm down, "When the fuck is your birthday?"

"Who knows," Killer answered, pulling his arm free and rolling away from Kidd to try and go back to sleep.

Unfortunately for him, it was never going to happen as long as Kidd was staring at him; some part of his brain refusing to let him ignore the fact someone was looking at him.

"Candlemas." he said finally, the first day to come to mind, "last term day of winter."

Kidd was whispering under his breath, trying to remember if he knew anything relevant about the day.

"Second of February." Killer supplied, tired of listening to the gears grinding uselessly in Kidd's head.

"Oh…"

"Will you go back to sleep now?"

[moxiebustion]

Re-reading Sense & Sensibility is so funny because there's a moment where Marianne asks, in genuine shock and horror, if Willoughby is selfish, and I cannot stress enough that it is at nearly the end of the book.

At this stage in the narrative Willoughby has done (and explicitly admitted to in the text):

Seducing, impregnating and then abandoning a fourteen year old because he was BORED

Flirting intimately with Marianne with no notion, at first, of marrying her even though he shamelessly raised her hopes; again because he was BORED

Fleeing in terror after he caught feelings, but NOT because he caught feelings, mind, but because his main hope of gaining masses of wealth was a female relative who disapproved of what he had done to Pleasant Diversion Girl #1 and he was mortally terrified of being poor; and while he did love her, Marianne was too poor for his delicate tastes to consider marrying now

Ghosting Marianne entirely to avoid being Embarrassed by his own conduct

Spent his entire time in London semi-stalking them specifically so he could Ghost her Extra Hard Core; so he was essentially yeeting himself out of the nearest window whenever they were in spitting distance because, again, he was Embarrassed and didn't want to be seen as The Bad Guy

Failed his Ghost Protocol so epically that Marianne found out his disappearance had been deliberate in the middle of a public forum and then disclaimed all responsibility for the scene this caused

Signed his name to a letter in which claimed he was at exactly zero fault for getting her hopes up and was deliberately intended to be cruel and break Marianne's heart because while he loves her most tenderly his new fiancée, who wrote it, holds the purse strings and he wants the money so bad he goes along with it, which eventually leaves Marianne so emotionally damaged she becomes deathly ill

While Marianne lay on her near-death bed after weeks of pining and misery, he stumbles into the scene and gives Elinor, the long suffering sensible sister, a long, drunken monologue about how his wife is very mean and he's very sad and hard done by except for being filthy rich, never really apologizes for the letter (he does explain its existence) and only really mentions the fourteen year old he left pregnant and ruined when he victim-blames her or does an impression of the 'I am blind I cannot see' meme or moans and groans about how he's so put-upon and misunderstood. (This is where he explicitly admits he only did what he did to the two girls out of, and I am not making this up, boredom)

And, like, Marianne knows this. This has all been wholly related to her IN FULL from Elinor who had the unfortunate fate to have to listen to all of this while her sister was recovering from near-death the next room over and she hadn't slept for something approaching thirty hours. Like, Marianne has read his figurative rap sheet of sheer self-involvement all the way through, including footnotes.

And she's still like: [shocked pikachu face] Willoughby?? Selfish?!!

[moondialdoodles]

*points at you* hoi :3

I've seen you talk bout a lotta things but nit Mario rpg so far! What makes it interesting to ya? What do ya enjoy about it? :3c

I’m so sorry for the very very long post you’re about to read.

This franchise has been everything to me ever since I first discovered it as a kid, to the point where I have most definitely obsessed over it for.. literally years at a time.

Full post under the cut due to length.

So! I’d known about these games since I was.. I want to say eight years old. I was obsessed with Mario ever since I had gotten my first console, the DSI, when I was six. I discovered the M&L series from YouTube, after begging my mom to let me watch videos there. From that point on, I discovered the game’s soundtracks, gameplay videos, etc. I’d watch them for hours on end, over and over. I was utterly hooked. Having Mario games with these cool new locations? New villains? The music that I could listen to for hours and hours on end?? An actual story? It was the best thing ever! A short time after discovering them, I discovered Mario roleplaying games on Roblox, which only fueled my love for the idea and games. Eventually I got my very first M&L game, Dream Team, on the year of release! I played it obsessively. Every day, every night, for hours and hours and hours. It never bored me. The characters had me fascinated, the humor made me giggle, just everything about the game was perfect to capture my mind, who already was obsessed with storytelling at the time. The bros themselves were the best part at first, thanks to me adoring their dynamic. I loved the games properly exploring their brotherly relationship, and how much they cared for eachother. It seeped into a lot of the stories that I’d written for them, and I couldn’t get enough of it. Really for the longest time the best part of the games to me was the bros. Though that didn’t last too long. At the age of fourteen, I’d gotten my hands on the Superstar Saga remake! After begging my parents to buy me the rest of the games, SSS was the very last game I needed to complete my collection.

This game

This game was my downfall.

If my obsession wasn’t bad before, this game started the true obsession. The environment, the characters, the music, the story, I loved it. Peasley was my favorite character out of the bunch, and he still is, of course. I never payed much attention to him until I saw the Royal brat in action. Yeahhh. Yeah. He had my heart. Smug, valiant, he somehow hit every mark for little ol me. That was the start of it all. From that point onwards, at the age of fifteen specifically, I started making a buttload of headcanons, lore to fill in the gaps, and finally, ocs. A lot of ocs. It turned into its own big ol story! It’s been now.. seven years of me doing this!! A lot’s happened, and I’ve grown a lot! Those stories have grown with me, and it’s honestly the thing I’ve poured most my heart into. It’s aged like milk, because yes, stories created when you were fifteen or sixteen aren’t gonna be the equivalent of picasso, but I still adore it and love it to bits. It’s my baby, I’ll die for that baby. It’s.. quite literally my own little love letter to the franchise and how much it’s shaped my life. My writing wouldn’t be the same without it, and neither would anything else. This franchise is a part of me, and always will be. With Brothership releasing soon, I can only see my little obsession growing.

The writing is so charming and goofy, and I have to thank the games for influencing me so much in that regard. They always make me laugh or smile, or feel so much. The animations add onto all of that, and make the game feel so… alive! The stories have always been so unique and fun, giving me years of thoughts and smiles, and the characters have always made me the happiest person alive.

M&L is my favorite franchise. It always will be. I’m so happy that I was able to discover it, and have so much of it shape my life. I wouldn’t be who I am today without it!

But, you wanted to hear why I liked M&L, so here you go! I think my favorite games in order tho have to be…

Superstar Saga, Dream Team, Bowser’s Inside Story, Partners in Time, and Paper Jam. I’ll see where brothership places when it releases!

I need to post my Mario stuff more, and maybe I’ll get to talk about all my silly things more often. If you’ve been my friend for any time at all, you know how much this franchise means to me. It’s.. a several hour long conversation, which a lot of them have had the misfortune of hearing.

Trust me, over 80 ocs and over a decade of obsessing over one little franchise does something to a girl.

Hope you enjoyed this read though, I’m glad to be able to share it with everyone!

[sage-nebula]

It's been hours and I still don't feel at all bad about being mean earlier, so I'm just going to go ahead and say it: I am done being even remotely diplomatic about double standards applied to female characters anymore, in any fandom, but in this case specifically the Sonic fandom since that's what this is specifically about. Ever since Lanolin became an actual character with spoken lines people have "theorized" about her being "secretly a villain" because she had a lack of visible emoting, because she was very formal in her speech, because she wasn't peppy and friendly when Vector or others visited the Restoration. Then people really blew their gaskets because she defended (what seemed to her to be) an innocent and defenseless fourteen-year-old against a super-powered fourteen-year-old and a sixteen-year-old trained guerilla fighter harassing him. And now people are especially upset because she was mean to Sonic, Amy, and Tails by telling them to get off the road before they got run over by the people still participating in the high speed race.

That's really what it comes down to. Ever since Lanolin was introduced, because she wasn't a peppy, kind, all-smiles female character who wasn't friendly toward fan-favorite male characters, who was even (shock, gasp, horror) rude or mean toward them, who had the sheer audacity to defend herself, she's the fucking devil who needs to get her act together, be humbled, and apologize.

And honestly, after decades of dealing with this kind of sexism, I'm honestly just done with it.

Oh sure, no one will admit that's what it is. They'll dislocate their arms reaching for any reason to justify it. "We're not sexist, we just think it's okay when Shadow is an asshole with no reason at all, but not okay when Lanolin is mean even when she's right because, uh, he's an antihero and Lanolin's a good guy and good guys shouldn't be mean!!" even though Shadow hasn't been shown doing anything morally questionable in actual years, making him an "antihero" in name only, and even if he had, we all know that's bullshit anyway because no one pays attention to labels like that and actually thinks, "Hm, is this character allowed to be mean? Are they allowed to be rude? What is their current literary role designation at Sega?" No, instead it's subconscious gender bias that the most female characters are allowed to be is sassy, and if they go any farther than that at all, ESPECIALLY toward a male character that people enjoy, then they're a bitch that needs to be reminded of their place.

"But Surge!" people will cry. "Surge is mean and people like her!" To which I say, bullshit! The number of people who want Shadow (it's always fucking Shadow) to assault Surge or "tell her what REAL trauma is" is honestly disgusting. There are so many people who want Surge to get her ass beat by other male Sonic rivals, especially Shadow, so she can be "put in her place" because, again, she's a girl and girls aren't "allowed" to be like that, don't you know that? Only boys can be aggressive and mean and have their trauma and angst be sympathetic and interesting.

Of course, I know a lot of this is subconscious bias. Gender roles are baked so deeply into our society that we're raised into them since birth. Literally, many of our parents start dressing us in gendered clothing from the moment that we're born and the gender socialization starts as we grow. But that doesn't mean that I have to tolerate it kindly or that I can't be sick to fucking death of seeing it applied even to fictional characters, especially since it's goddamn fucking boring to have all the female characters in a series just be friendly and helpful and kind, especially when the male characters DO get to be traumatized and mean and rude. If Lanolin was a male character, she'd be one of the most popular IDW original characters. I guarantee you she'd be shipped with so many other characters. But because she's a female character, she's a huge bitch who needs to learn her lesson because otherwise she's annoying and a bitch and probably secretly a villain despite her bio in the artbook literally saying that she has a hard time showing it but she really does want what's best for everyone.

For the record, no, I don't care at all that she's mean sometimes. I think it makes her standout among the female cast especially (especially the female cast on the heroic side since the closest we get to mean there is Rouge, and Rouge isn't even mean, she's just selfish). In fact I think that she should especially be mean to Sonic and, confession time, I was actually bothered by how friendly she was to him when they met up at the beginning of the Urban Warfare arc, because the fact that he got away with THIS bullshit he pulled on her during the Metal Virus arc isn't okay with me:

Sonic really sat his infected ass on the back of Lanolin's chair and then had the goddamn nerve, the sheer AUDACITY, to not remember who she was when Jewel called him into the meeting that cemented the forming of the Neo Diamond Cutters. Lanolin was present and active during all of the Metal Virus missions; she made it all the way to Angel Island without being infected, was one of the very few to do so, Sonic chose to sit on the back of her chair while being infected, and then fucking FORGOT WHO SHE WAS, and yet SHE'S the one who gets lambasted because she was harsh when telling him to get his pedestrian ass off the fucking road before he got fucking run over???

Fuck that. She should be meaner to Sonic specifically. The IDW writers might have forgotten this bullshit that was pulled during the Metal Virus when they had Lanolin's introduction at the beginning of Urban Warfare, but I sure didn't, considering I had been tracking her traumatic incidents from the very beginning. Like there was no reason for him to do this and yet there he is, and then he forgot. But you know who didn't? Lanolin. Or even if she consciously did, well, she's severely traumatized and the body keeps score.

But I digress.

The point is, this fandom has a huge issue with double standards when it comes to reception of male characters versus female characters. And it's not just this fandom, it's all fandoms, but considering I made an untagged post about how I didn't want to deal with the obscene amount of Lanolin hate I knew was going to occur after this issue, only for a clown to find it anyway and proceed to annoy me for a good long while despite me telling them repeatedly that they were the exact type of doofus the post was about, I'm just so beyond done and I had to vent and get it off my chest. I hope Lanolin stays mean. I hope she never apologizes, because she doesn't need to apologize. I hope in the upcoming civil war arc that I feel like is going to happen (though I have my own clown makeup ready for if it doesn't) that the end result is that she splits off from the Restoration with her own faction and they function as a third party mercenary group similar to the original Diamond Cutters, because she doesn't need to kowtow to Sonic's or the Restoration's ideals. And neither does Whisper, for that matter, and if the civil war arc does happen I'm positive that Whisper is going to be on Lanolin's side. (Tangle, however, won't be. Divorce arc real and I'm here for it tbh, much as I love whispangle.)

Anyway. That's off my chest now. I'm going to go play Stardew Valley.

[scullysflannel]

I really do think having to watch the Doctor host a happy little backyard dinner party hammered home how uninterested I am in emotional stability on Doctor Who. Donna is my favorite companion and the Tenth Doctor era was the peak of my obsession, but the idea that this should mean I want to see them “happy forever” is so boring as a tv fan and so insidious in the context of this specific show, which has been built on the inevitability of change for 60 years. the thing about Doctor Who is that it’s optimistic and aimed at children and endless and therefore full of loss. it has to be both. and not to be presumptuous, because I understand that Russell T. Davies is grieving his husband, but in the long run I would think anyone who’s grieving will get more out of watching the Doctor carry on and find new people to care about than they will out of watching a fantasy where the Doctor regresses to an old face and magically gets a second chance with a friend he once lost.

in the language of the show, this happiness isn’t just narratively cheap but also kind of terrifying. this is the kind of thing we see in dream sequences that are killing the characters slowly. watching the show do it for real (unless we're really in for a surprise) is unnerving. it also asks us to forget something fundamental about Tennant’s Doctor: that no matter how human he seemed, he wasn’t. the tragedy that energizes his story is that he’s so close to the life he thinks he wants and he can’t have it. and it’s a two-way tragedy, for both him and his companion, because at different points they both believe the lie he’s telling himself (that he’s basically human), only to be hit with the reminder that he’s still so alien. he wants to not have to watch his friends grow old and die without him. he doesn’t want a mortgage.

what makes Tennant’s Doctor interesting is that his humanity also comes with a god complex: cruelty, pettiness, callousness, cluelessness, ego. he loves Rose, but he likes the idea of settling down with her more because it’s unattainable. and Donna — she was going to travel with him forever! he took her away from a boring life. it’s nice that she’s happy with the life she has now, even if it undercuts the tragedy that made her original ending so visceral, but I think making her so settled that she even domesticates the Doctor is overcompensating. it’s sanding down that tension again — that great tension between romanticizing everyday things like getting a taxi home and romanticizing running away from a life that makes you feel unimportant. again, the show has to be both. all the best dynamics in Doctor Who, at least new Who, are the ones that treat traveling with the Doctor as a kind of addiction; you have to feel the intoxication of it in order for the pain to hit.

on that note, I don’t get the suggestion that Donna could have given up her metacrisis energy this whole time and that Tennant’s Doctor just doesn’t understand that because he’s male presenting. Donna is the one who didn’t give it up 15 years ago. if she always could have given up that power, then the only explanation for why she didn’t is that she couldn’t bear to go back to being “ordinary,” and of course the Tenth Doctor, who can't let anything go (“I don’t want to go”), would never think to let it go either. it’s about personality. the idea that it all comes down to the Doctor’s current gender presentation is a bleak vision of regeneration, where everything one regeneration experiences, in terms of how their body affects their privilege, is immediately forgotten once they change. Fourteen isn’t exactly Ten, but bringing back Tennant as the Doctor and treating him like Ten (who moved through the world with the privilege of a white man) meant that the show didn’t really get to explore the aftermath of the Doctor presenting as a woman. am I meant to believe that their experience taught them nothing? rude to Jodie! and does that imply that everything Ncuti’s Doctor is about to experience isn’t going to affect how future Doctors understand race at all? isn’t that sad?

all this in an episode that doesn’t even mention Martha! the show’s first Black companion is now the only Tenth Doctor companion who doesn’t get her own personal Doctor, and they can’t even say her name. it’s been said on here before, but this isn’t about whether Martha would “want” her own Doctor (he’s her friend! I think she’d want to see him, although as this post puts it, she’d “rehome him within a week”). she’s a fictional character. it’s worth asking why Martha Jones was written in such a way that when she gets ignored, people will rise up to defend it as a sign of her independence. 

and it's unfair that Ncuti didn't get the normal regeneration sequence. even his TARDIS is a duplicate. the bi-generation feels like it leaves the door open for people to treat Ncuti’s Doctor as less legitimate. granted, those people would probably take any excuse, so you can't write for them. but as fun as it was to see the two Doctors team up (they should kiss), and as much as Ncuti is serving already, he shouldn't have had to share the spotlight. at minimum the bi-generation should have resolved by the end of the episode. now David Tennant is just looming out there until who knows when. also, the thing about sending Fourteen off to “deal with his trauma” is that it implies that Fifteen already did that, and I don't want that. the Doctor has to be haunted. what is Doctor Who about if not running from your past at warp speed? yeah, Ncuti’s Doctor should be at the club, but regeneration always gives the Doctor enough of a fresh start to have fun for a few episodes before the horrors hit; I don’t think he needed to be fully healed before hitting the club. 

when Jodie’s era kicked off we spent every week waiting for her to snap. full disclosure, I haven’t seen the Flux season, which apparently put her through it, but I don’t think her Doctor was ever allowed access to the full range of personality flaws that other Doctors have, which was unfair to her and also less fun to watch. I don’t want to see that happen to Ncuti’s Doctor; he deserves to be burdened, prideful, angry, rude, whatever. we can’t let the Doctor fall victim to the therapy-speak epidemic on television. he should get to be alien, and I want to see him snap.

[riverontherun]

Oh my god legit same!!! I would have immediately said @just-french-me-up too. I vividly remember waking up on holiday and checking their blog every morning before we went out so I had new les mis things to think about all day

(And when I found out my fave tumblr blog also wrote that awesome amnesia fic I liked on ao3?? Basically Christmas for me lmao)

What accounts were legend-tier celebrities to you when you were fourteen I’ll go first

@just-french-me-up

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Twenty One.

Thank you so much to everyone for your commitment to the story, as usual! Happy Friday, guys. Enjoy! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,946

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

“I’m so bored.”  

As was Adrien of hearing his wife chime those three words over and over. He could hardly blame her for it, though, and so thus took it with good nature, knowing that it had to be tough for somebody who kept herself so busy to be rendered incapacitated. After being allowed to go home, they’d spent a week at the apartment in Manhattan before Jade felt well enough to fly. Now she’d been returned upstate for the last week and four days, she was rapidly tiring of being confined to a bed for the most part. 

Her healing was estimated to take twelve weeks from the point of the incident, and they were currently at week eight, with her not allowed to do anything physically demanding, given the instruction to rest as much as possible.  

“What are you even doing out of bed, Moo?” He pointed in the direction of the kitchen door, circling his finger. “Back upstairs, go.” 

“No. I want cheese and I want to sit in the sun while I eat it. I physically can’t lie in a bed for that long unless I have you on top of me, and I can’t even do that for another two weeks. Even though I feel fine, my breathing is normal, my wounds are all healed, but no! I’m being treated like heirloom glass when really, I want to be shagged into the tail end of next week!”  

She’d specifically asked her godmother that, Lucy dying laughing, calling her a horny reprobate. ‘Ten weeks, and then light exertion will be fine. No sexual gymnastics!’  

Walking over to him, she pulled his head down to her level, kissing him, his lips, his nose, and the crinkles that dented his forehead as he frowned. “Sitting, that's all. My eyes hurt from reading, and I’ve binged all ten seasons of Friends in the last two weeks. I need a change of scenery.” 

He made a soft growl. “Fine.” 

“Yes, it is, because you’re not going to boss you around, or I’ll bite you, you bugger.” His pec was chomped upon softly, Adrien shaking his head. 

“That isn’t much of a threat, baby.” Kissing his chest, she hugged him tightly before moving to the fridge, ready to raid the order she’d had delivered from the small deli in the nearest village. It held a surprisingly good selection, little slices of each taken, Jade adding crackers and grapes to the plate she carried outside to enjoy under the summer sun with a glass of wine.  

“That little area over there is entirely too empty,” she spoke, crunching through a cracker while pointing at the little patch of land beneath the trees where the chickens were meant to be.  

It was, he had to agree. “How about once you’ve finished your snacks, we take a drive down to the farm shop and bring a few home?” Perhaps he was being a little too precious with her, he had to concede. Their local farm shop and feed store was only a twenty-minute drive away, Adrien knowing they were running low on horse food, so having to organise that anyway, they might as well.  

It was necessary too, now Mia had finally arrived from Austria five days before. Jade had been annoyed beyond words that he’d told her a firm no over doing a ten hour round trip to JFK in order to bring her back upstate, but he’d had help in the form of Rachel, who had offered to come along, knowing considerably more about horse care than him. He’d needed somebody who knew how to load a steed onto a horse truck properly, how to put the travel boots on, bandage her tail, tie her up properly, all of which his sister-in-law could probably do in her sleep, she was so adept. 

Her head shot up like a meerkat, eyes rounding a little. “Really? You’re allowing me to leave the house?” 

“You make me sound like your captor, Burtie,” he scoffed, receiving a cheeky eyebrow raise. 

“Kinda missing being tied up and defiled.”  

He groaned softly, closing his eyes for a moment. “Don’t. Now I’m not so scared to remember I have a high libido, believe me, my hand ain’t cutting it.”  

Oh, the flicker she felt between her thighs. “You should let me watch that.”  

“Never quite works though, does it? Not with either of us trying to play the captive audience. We get to about a thirty seconds and dive on the other.” That was true enough. The only time they’d ever been able to successfully watch one another masturbate was when they’d done it over Skype while apart. 

“I’ve got in it my head now. Fucks sake,” she groaned, taking a large gulp of wine, crossing her legs tightly with a huff that had him shaking with soft laughter. 

“Two weeks, my baby. Two weeks and I will fucking ruin you.” Pausing, his smile began to widen, chuckling. “For about a minute and half, but damn, it’ll be the best minute and a half of your life!”  

Laughing, she leaned against him, stroking his thigh as he kissed the top of her head. Laughter was medicinal in the wake of what had happened to her, so close to losing her life right there on her own driveway. It had hit her in waves after waking to be filled in on the gaps in her memory, the magnitude of being so close to death. What had affected her most was when her darling Katie had told her it had taken her an hour to bleach off the blood stain from the front drive, she’d been crying so hard, but wanting it gone before either she or Adrien had arrived back to see it there.  

It hadn’t just impacted her, the knock-on effect of her attack leaving her loved ones terrified and her husband with the kind of blood pressure level that had taken days to come back to a normal reading, so her dad had confided. Her poor mother hadn’t slept for longer than a few hours every night immediately after.  

Adrien had thought she wouldn’t want to sue the care facility, but she’d very much proven otherwise. Their legal team had hit them with a suit for gross negligence, Jade stating that if that was how lax they were that a patient with murderous intentions could so easily escape, then truly, they needed to face the consequences of such. After all, what if anyone had gotten in her way prior to her arriving in Cleveland? Would they likely have met the same fate, but perhaps not quite been so lucky? What the hell were the people looking after her thinking, too, allowing a woman who had likely shown such dangerous intentions to remain in such a low security facility?  

As Adrien pulled his truck from the drive out onto the road, she thought about it again, a little shiver running through her. Of course, he noticed, seeing her close into herself a little. “You okay, baby love?” 

“Yeah, ish,” she confessed. “It’s a hard thing to reconcile, my home being the place I always feel so safe, but now the location of where I was the farthest from that. Don’t panic, I’m not about to say I want to move or anything. That mental cunt won’t drive me from my home. It’s just a bit weird right now.” 

Reaching for her, he squeezed her thigh, feeling her hand cover his, her little finger stroking over his knuckles. “Give it time, I think that’s all you need. Also, look at it differently, perhaps? I’m not trying to minimise what happened to you, but if you look at it as the place you survived rather than the alternative, that might be a better perspective going forward.”  

She loved that about him, how she could see a situation strictly from one viewpoint, but he would usually find a way to see it completely opposite, with credible validity. “I never thought of it like that before, baby. You’re right, though. Thank you. Love you.” 

“Love you, too, Moo.”  

As soon as they arrived at the farm shop, Lyn, the woman who had run it for almost twenty years with her husband Ray came out from behind the counter, the dear old lady opening her arms wide with a huge smile. “Hello, sweetheart. Oh, it’s great to see you looking so well! How you feeling, hmm?” 

“Pretty good, actually. Mr. B over there isn’t letting me do much at all, so I’ve had plenty of rest. I can breathe properly again without having to rely on oxygen, which is a bonus. You’re very kind to ask,” she replied, gently clasping her forearms as they parted.  

Shaking her head, she touched a gentle hand to her cheek. “How anybody would want to hurt such a dear soul as you, my love. We’ve had it all up here, you know! Journalists, photographers coming up to grab something to eat. Ray and I pass by you guy’s place every morning on our way in, and we saw them all waiting in their cars for pictures! Damned parasites. I told them I had nothing to say when they asked for comment, other than how sad I was that something so awful happened to such a nice girl.” 

Oh yes, they’d been sitting in wait to get photographs of her upon her arrival at home. “I appreciate that, Lyn. Anyway, I’m here to fill my chicken coop and spend an obscene amount in the shop. As a first-time chicken owner, I’d appreciate your advice on the former.” 

She nodded, walking her round to the area the birds were housed in. “Plymouth Rock hens are good first chicken. Friendly, unfussy and they lay well. Orpingtons and Rhode Island Reds are great choices, too, all of which we have. How big is your space, hon?” 

After a few more details were exchanged, three of each chicken breed were chosen, Lyn providing travel cages to be run back up the day after, leaving Adrien and Ray to load the chickens onto the truck and Jade to go and fill a couple of baskets of produce within the shop. Once that had been bought, the required horse and chicken feed, too, they headed home, ready to introduce the birds to their brand-new habitat.  

“That red over there? I’m naming her Marge,” Jade spoke, pointing at one of the three Rhode Island’s. “Listen to her! That’s the same noise Marge Simpson makes when she’s annoyed.”  

He coughed softly. “You do that, too.” 

“Don't you dare let this be another nickname that enters your little repertoire,” she warned, watching him shake with laughter as he wrapped his arm around her. 

“Of course not, Marge.”  

Her side eye was delivered with lethal intent. “I will cock punch you.”  

His laughter boomed so loudly, the chickens spooked, all running for the safety of the hen house with a little flurry and some disgruntled noises. “Now look what you did, making me scare the chickens because of your empty threats.” 

“It wasn’t empty,” she warned, balling her fist. 

“Sounds like somebody doesn’t want to get laid sooner rather than later.”  

“Oh, and you’re really going to give it to me sooner, hmm? Mr only let me out of the damned house for the first time today, when I’m still two weeks away from being able to heavy breathe?”  

He raised his eyebrows rapidly, looking smug. “Might have given you a gentle banging, but now, with this little display of funky assed attitude? Nah. You can wait.”  

Her husband. God, he was insufferably contrary when he put his mind to it. “Fine. Just know I’ll be upstairs with my favourite vibrator. Let that information marinade.” Slapping him on the bum, she walked back to the house. She wasn’t even halfway through the door before she found him draped around her, lifting her into his arms and carrying her upstairs. “So, best minute and a half of my life, huh?” 

“Stop it,” he laughed, reaching the top of the stairs and turning right, walking down to their bedroom. “Don’t jinx me.” 

“So, what’s different? You’ve been treating me like I’m subject to breakages up until a few hours ago, and now all that’s changed?” she teased, knowing she was being a menace, but not able to fight giving a little back. 

Laying her on the bed, he grumbled at her mildly infuriating riposte, pulling his t shirt off before joining her, hands grasping the straps of her dress and pulling them down. “The fact that I’m only human. And... well... you’ve seen yourself. How the hell am I supposed to keep my hands off someone so gorgeous for twelve weeks? Ten is fine, but just tell me if it isn’t, alright?” 

Her lung could have burned with all the heat of a thousand suns, and she would have kept that to herself, feeling her need for her husband smoulder with the same ferocious heat. He discarded her dress and underwear rapidly, mouth anchoring to hers with a soft grunt, hands softly kneading her bare breasts. How he loved it when she didn’t bother with underwear, his touch skimming down her sides.  

The feel of two, then three little ridged scars beneath his touch prickled him emotionally, his lips following the glide of his hands, pressing kisses, sucking her nipples in turn, his mouth veering right to kiss upon the healed wounds that had almost taken her from him. She knew what he was doing, and how she loved him for it, showing her it didn’t matter to him that her body now came with flaws; he still desired her just the same as he always had.  

Where she craved to feel those kisses, to her delight he did not hesitate in arrival, pushing her thighs apart and burying his mouth between them, ten weeks of longing for her unravelling as his tongue slithered through her slit. He brought those licks against her clit, hungrily tasting her, his mouth eager in its repeated rolling over her bud as she sighed in gratification of him returned so intimately to her.  

Sliding over the little swell of her clit once more, he sent fire roaring through her, a blade of pleasure slicing to her very bones as she shook, the tip of his tongue skimming dewy pink nerve endings, his thumb pulling back the soft skin covering her bundle, making way for his lips to suck gently. Sparks fizzed right down to her marrow, the flush of ecstasy evoked by his mouth ever escalating, her body host to spasmodic judders as he caressed her dewy slit with all the fervour of a man half parched.  

“Fuck, oh god, baby. You’re gonna make me come so hard!” she wailed, hands fisting the grey linen below as she trembled, crested and burned hard against the fire of his mouth. While those divine licks gentled against her, he reached to unfasten his jeans, pushing and kicking himself out of them, kissing his way back to her mouth, hard cock parting her walls with a soft grunt.  

He stilled, thumbs moving to stroke her cheeks, feeling a little overcome. It was a moment that might not have ever happened for them again, but there she was beneath him in their bed, pretty lips parted as she panted softly, looking up at him adoringly. Life; it was truly so precious. As was she.  

As for Jade, the desire and tenderness of the moment pulled her in, guiding his mouth to hers as their bodies began to rock together, feeling a little more restored to her usual self at finally having sexual intimacy resumed. Her nails gently dragged his back, delighting in the feel of his body pressing tight against hers, a sudden hard shunt of his hips against her sending him deep into the flutter of her cunt. 

“Missed me right here, huh?” he chuckled, watching the sated desire glitter her eyes.  

“Mmm.” she purred, stroking his face, their kisses connecting hot, “I always do when I have to go without the best cock in the world.” Every inch of him slipped into her with ease, every ridge scraping tingles over her soaking walls, hands gently kneading her breasts as his kisses moved to her neck.  

“I mean, I’ll take that,” he began, resting his forehead to hers, “but your number isn’t really high enough to know mine’s the best. Forty-two isn’t that high.” 

“Just take the bloody compliment, Brody,” she spoke, kissing him. 

“Yeah... yeah I think I will. Even though it might be vastly inaccurate.” 

“Adrien?” she questioned, an entertained smile playing her lips. “Are you being all chatty because you’re trying not to come?” 

A smidgen of embarrassment flickered across his face. Oh, he was so cute. “Yeah, maybe.” A few seconds passed. “Okay, I am. I grossly overestimated myself at a minute and a half.” Her laugh filled the bedroom, her husband rooting himself deeper in her to prevent slipping out. “Stop, that feels too good!” 

“Baby?” 

“Yep?” 

“Just come.” Holding his face in her hands, she kissed him, nuzzling away his shame. “I came already against your tongue, didn’t I? You’re fine. Just let go.” It was as he shared kisses of fiery honey with his beloved that his body shuddered hard, staccato thrusts sending him headlong into the enjoyment of lightning forking up his spine.  

“Oh god, I’ve turned into a forty seconds guy,” he panted, laughing softly as he kissed her. “Sorry.” Stroking her face, he kissed her some more, Jade laughing as she shook her head, fingers weaving into his hair.  

“Well, don’t be. I’m flattered it bothers you, though. Most guys are so selfish like that, but you never are. It’s just one of the many reasons I love you.”  

“And because I make you laugh by being an embarrassingly rapid quick draw?”  

Of course, that comment had her in soft fits. “Stop being daft, my love. Besides, there’s always later.” The grin she was met with told her loud and clear he definitely planned to redeem himself a little. Until then, they went back downstairs, taking a gentle walk around their land with the dogs while waiting for the barbecue to heat up, Jade leaving two large steaks marinading in the fridge for dinner. 

“You look thoughtful,” he spoke, turning his focus away from Brando heaving a large stick from the long grass.  

Turning to him, she smiled, but he still picked up on a trace of sadness there. “I was just thinking about the projects I’ve missed out on, because of what happened. It feels selfish, too. Really selfish. I was so lucky to survive and here I am lamenting the loss of work!”  

Tightening his arm around her, he dropped a kiss upon her head. “It isn’t selfish, it’s just you. You hate to feel like you’ve missed out on an opportunity to further yourself, naturally ambitious as you are. Okay, so you missed a couple of exciting projects, but plenty more will come your way. I don’t have to tell you that.”  

“It’s nice to hear all the same, though.” she smiled, yet still the little flicker of something not quite right remained.  

“What else is bugging you?” 

Of course, he wouldn’t let it slide. She didn’t want him to either. “Today when we went out, I felt fine, safe. You were there, but I can’t hide at my husband’s side forever, yet the thought of going out alone scares me. I know it’s ridiculous, too! She can’t get to me again. I mean blimey, watching back the CCTV from the front gate at what happened, I gave almost as good as I got, so I know I can defend myself, but still. It makes me feel nervous.” 

It was something they’d lightly argued about, a day after arriving home, Jade wanting to see the footage of her attack in an effort to remember what had happened, and Adrien not seeing it as a conducive move at all. He’d conceded in the end, though, Jade watching the feed from the office computer, wincing, but finding it helpful. It helped in so much that she witnessed how she’d fought her attacker hard, even if she didn’t remember much. 

“I think that’s natural,” he began, turning to see Atlas running from the trees whilst dragging along a large branch. Always branches with that dog. “Put it down! Atlas, no. That’s too big.” The dog gave it a shake with a playful grown before releasing it, the four canines hurtling off again together. “Anyway, as I was saying before meathead distracted me. You feeling like that probably isn’t uncommon in people who’ve been attacked, so don’t be hard on yourself, or expect to feel perfectly back to normal in the wake of this. Give yourself time, don’t start reverting to old habits.” 

He had worried that she might, but her reassurance was swift. “No, no I won’t. I know if I rush myself to feel back to my old self, I won’t get there. I am still being a bit tough on myself, just so you know, but that’s mostly out of frustration. I can’t really hate her for what she did, because she isn’t in her right mind. I’m struggling with it, reconciling it, that I really shouldn’t be scared because she was just one lone nutter with a grudge borne of what her mental illness had made her believe. At the same time, though, it was a fucking traumatic experience. I need to give myself time, no matter how much it bugs me.” 

“Three years ago, and you would have shut it down, likely thrown yourself into a heap of work and then had to deal with the fallout from all of that,” he noted, hand idly stroking her arm.  

“Three years ago, and I was still two and a half months away from meeting you,” she noted, leaning into him a little, whistling for the dogs. Up popped Groucho’s head, gleaming dark copper in the summer sunshine. “Come on, knob head!” she chuckled, watching him dive over the long grass as they turned at the top of their land, heading back towards the house.  

“How the hell has it been three years? Shit,” he exclaimed softly, his hand reaching for Bear when the big dog licked his fingers, he and the others trotting along much slower after their frenzied exertion. “And I want you to know how proud I am of you, the way you deal with things so much more healthily than you did. Okay, so some stuff lingers, but you at least tell me about it. That’s all I ever wanted.”  

Leaning closer, his kissed the side of his neck with a happy hum. “It’s because I trust you, I feel safe to. I’ll never not feel safe, as long as I have you.”  

“I love hearing that.” Stopping, he took both of her hands in his, resting his forehead to hers. “Can you do something for me?” 

Jade knew where this was going. “Anything.” 

“Love me forever?” 

She smiled, kissing the tip of his nose. “Always.” 

If one thing remained consistent over the years that followed, it was that she truly would love the man who made her feel safe forever. Another consistency was that true to form, once she’d recovered from her ordeal, her attacker locked away in a high security psychiatric facility for the foreseeable, too, was that she returned to work with her usual gusto.  

And boy, did she eventually reap the rewards of that.  

[torchickentacos]

15 Questions!

Tagged by @gaycey-sketchit !!!!! Thank you so much for the tag, and I loved reading yours! Long post, sorry lol.

1. Are you named after anyone? Nope! Not to my knowledge, anyways. Though if my mom told me that she named me after Taylor Hawkins from Foo Fighters, I would not be shocked.

2. When was the last time you cried? I think monday? I cry really often, at every single emotion. Happy? I'm going to cry about it. Laughing? My high school theatre class would always point out when they made me cry laugh. Sad? ABSOLUTELY crying about that. I didn't cry but I DID tear up yesterday because I was really happy about something nice someone said to me.

3. Do you have kids? Nope, and no intention of having them. Regardless of my desire to or not (usually not, being the oldest of four is enough for me), my health is not, and never will be, in an acceptable position or ability to go through that, and I've accepted that for a while now.

4. What sports do you play/have you played? As a kid, I played soccer and did gymnastics! In middle school, I BRIEFLY did fencing. My mom told me that when I was fencing is the only time she's ever seen me look truly graceful (lmao, love my mom dw. She's right). Then health stuff came up and I had to stop, but fencing just came as easily to me as breathing did. I always wonder where I'd be if I could have stuck with it. Nothing's ever immediately clicked with me the way fencing did, but it's hell on my joints.

5. Do you use sarcasm? Sometimes, usually when I'm annoyed which isn't TOO often. Or if I'm being hyperbolic for a joke.

6. What is the first thing you notice about people? No clue. I guess their demeanor- if they seem happy or not, if they look stressed, how they're feeling (or how I perceive them as feeling, I guess).

7. What's your eye color? Blue! My friend swears up and down that they're kind of green. I think she's colorblind.

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings!!! I am not built for scary movies. I can do some buzzfeed unsolved and I can watch markiplier play indie horror games but that's kind of my limit. I LOVE some types of horror, but my anxiety does not. I will be paranoid for a month after.

9. Any talents? I can play music by ear. Give me a guitar and a random song and ten minutes at most!

10. Where were you born?

11. What are your hobbies? Landscape/scenery art (also other art but it's much harder), writing, playing guitar (used to play piano too but not well. I also own a ukulele that I'm bad at, but generally I can play something on any instrument you give me). But mostly, I pick up and put down hobbies all the time. I've dabbled in crochet, embroidery, sewing, painting, archery, coding, needle felting, gardening, cooking, a little bit of everything. Never long enough to get good at most of them, though. I get bored too quickly.

12. Do you have any pets? A lovely husky (shelter girlie <3) and a gecko! And, for the gecko, a bunch of crickets at any given point in time, which I guess counts because I have to take care of them, too.

13. How tall are you? 5'2 and a half. 5'4 with my doc martens.

14. Favorite subject in school? Assuming lunch doesn't count, I was a theatre girlie. Assuming THAT doesn't count, English. I liked English because if I didn't have an answer, I could just bullshit one, but I usually did enjoy it and had real answers. I'll tell you why the curtains are blue and why they're the specific fabric they are and what the rest of the room means- if I'm interested, anyways.

15. Dream job? Oh boy, uh. Still trying to figure that out. DREAM job, like, without worrying about money or my physical ability to do it? Pro fencer, but I gave up on that a looong time ago. I genuinely believe I could have done it if my knee hadn't gone to shit at fourteen. I'd love to work in a record store or a music store, though, which is a little more in-reach.

Tagging: Anyone who sees this, lmk if you do it from this post!! But also, NO PRESSURE AT ALL but @soulsilversprings @nowandevermore @lostlegendaerie @mozukumi !!! Also whoever else wants to, I get nervous to tag people so assume you're tagged, too!

[windsfavored]

also  as  a  follow  up  to  that  last  unbearably  long  post  from  last  night  —  a  handful  of  miscellaneous  MODERN  AU  headcanons,  which  is  incredibly  self  indulgent  but  i  want  to  yap  about  the  menace.

ren  knows  how  to  pick  locks  and  hotwire  cars  —  however,  he  specifically  learned  to  do  these  things  by  watching  youtube  videos  when  he  was  bored. genuinely his only motivation at the time was that it sounded cool.  he  technically  never  actually  got  his  driver's  license  before  faking  his  own  death,  though  he  did  know  how  to  drive  and  would  occasionally  drive  illegally  if  circumstances  warranted  it.  he  has  a  license  now  —  but  it's  not  actually  real.  (  predominantly  just  there  to  serve  as  a  form  of  identification  if  he  needs  it.  )  it  doesn't  particularly  matter  because  he  doesn't  own  a  vehicle  anyway.

enjoys  parkour  and  generally  climbing  places  he  shouldn't.  trees.  buildings.  this  gets  a  lot  of  mileage  with  his  aforementioned  lock  picking  talent  —  testing  your  home  security  is  a  love  language.  probably.  he  has  zero  boundaries.

every  version  of  ren  tends  to  be  very  emotional,  but  modern  ren  in  particular  is  especially  volatile  and  prone  to  acting  out.  he's  only  twenty  four  —  compared  to  canon  ren,  who  is  nearly  five  hundred.  he  isn't  necessarily  hotheaded,  but  he  lacks  much  of  his  mainverse  counterpart's  self-control  and  sense  of  worldliness.  quicker  to  snap,  quicker  to  lash  out.  he  will  occasionally  raise  his  voice  and  even  curse  —  which  is  generally  something  you  would  never  see  puppet  ren  do.  (  he  much  prefers  to  verbally  eviscerate  through  clever,  cutting  remarks  than  tired  expletives.  )  he's  still  ren,  he's  still  mentally  an  adult  —  he's  just  much  less  mature,  much  less  world-weary  and  much  MORE  raw  when  things  aren't  going  his  way.

still  enjoys  theatre,  dance  and  performative  swordplay  even  if  he  isn't  an  active  participant  these  days.

acts  in  a  way  that  might  lead  one  to  believe  he  has  some  degree  of  agoraphobia  or  social  anxiety,  but  the  truth  is  he  has  a  very  good  reason  to  be  paranoid  in  public.  ren  does  genuinely  have  (  undiagnosed  )  depression  and  has  been  suffering  from  insomnia  since  he  was  roughly  fourteen  or  so.  he's  long  since  given  up  on  trying  to  do  anything  about  it  and  tries  to  compensate  by  grabbing  what  sparse  hours  of  sleep  he  possibly  can  —  then  substituting  the  rest  with  copious  amounts  of  caffeine.

no  pets  beyond  the  neighborhood  cats  he'll  never  admit  to  feeding,  but  he  does  have  a  succulent  plant.

secretly  monitors  the  social  media  accounts  of  his  friends  and  family  members.  sends  very  ominous  anonymous  messages  to  any  internet  strangers  foolish  enough  to  harass  them.  ❝  your  ip  address  is  ■■■■■  and  your  current  location  is  ■■■■■.  do  yourself  a  favor  and  stop  talking. ❞  he's  terrible.  he  also  purposefully  doesn't  tell  anyone  he  feels  protective  over  what  he's  doing  behind  the  scenes  —  and  in  general,  he  has  canon  ren's  tendency  to  refuse  to  share  anything  but  the  most  necessary  scraps  of  information  with  other  people.

similarly,  ren  knows  more  about  the  murder  mystery  currently  at  the  center  of  the  au  than  most  of  the  muses  involved  —  but  doesn't  want  to  reveal  his  findings  because  he's  trying  to  protect  his  family.  he  also  carries  the  unfortunate  family  trait  of  trying  to  shoulder  every  issue  by  himself.

tattoos  that  resemble  kintsugi  on  his  left  arm  and  right  leg.  tongue  is  pierced.  both  earlobes  are  pierced;  he  always  wears  an  earring  that  resembles  a  small,  golden  feather  in  his  left  ear  and  has  an  industrial  piercing  on  that  side  as  well.  keeps  his  nails  painted  and  eyeshadow  on  practically  at  all  times  —  not  for  any  particular  reason  beyond  it  being  a  relatively  simple  and  easy  to  maintain  act  of  self  care  that  makes  him  feel  good.

doesn't  have  his  hat  in  this  verse,  but  he  does  wear  a  jacket  with  a  large  hood  he  can  use  to  cover  his  face  that  effectively  serves  the  same  purpose.

[skeletonsfortea]

Additional note here, you may notice your question has been edited- it’s just to make everything flow a little better, so don't worry about it!

The empty void awaits.

Hello! I am the author, and I would like to welcome you to my first (of many, hopefully) Q&A! The cast will arrive shortly, but in the meantime, let me introduce you to the host of my show! Meet, Creepy Eyes (or CE), one and only void cat (shown above), who will be acting as my face!

CE waves his tail.

If y’all have an issue with this introduction- don’t mention it- because cringe culture can kiss my ass! I write fanfiction, fuck you (not actually though, love you guys, /p)! Now, to give us some scenery-

A comfortable lobby appears.

And for the cast-

Fourteen skeletons appear, each turning, some confused and some on edge.

“Where in the world-”

“Hello! You are in the void, or more specifically, in my Q&A- building?- whatever, the details don’t matter. You are here to answer questions from the readers!”

“‘Readers?’”

“Readers! Don't question it. No existential crisis allowed! Just accept it.”

“And where is your voice even coming from?" 

“Don't question the omnipotent presence either!”

“The hell kind of-”

“Alright!  I’ll bless you all with full and complete knowledge of everything- that you need to know.”

The skeletons blink, and then look around at each other with mixed expressions of horror, disgust, and awe.

“Now, moving on-”

“Oh, sorry! But could I ask one question..?” UT Papyrus asks. 

“Yes, you may." 

“What’s your name?”

“You may call me Tea! Now, for introductions! Let’s begin with the Undertale brothers!” 

The room darkens and two spotlights fall on UT Sans and Papyrus.

“This Sans will be called Classic, and Papyrus will be called Vanilla! Now, for the next pair! These two are from the Horrortale universe!”

Two spotlights fall on HT Sans and Papyrus. Sans glares up at the faceless voice, whereas Papyrus simply rubs his eye sockets.

“They will be called Axe and Pie!”

Introductions continue as usual.

“Alright, now that the boring stuff is through, let’s begin with the questions! Starting with…the dirty shit!”

“Huh?”

“Everybody sit!” 

As soon as they do, mugs appear in their hands.

“What you have in your hands there is truth serum tea! It tastes great, and yes, you do have to drink it! All part of the fun, you know? No worries, none of y’all will remember this later!”

“Not concerning at all,” mutters Axe.

Currant just shrugs, “eh, I’m used to it.”

“Alright! Starting with group questions! Take it away, CE!”

CE produces a single notecard, and at the same time, the large TV in the lobby shows the question.

Q: When it comes to other things, fast and hard or slow and sensual?

There’s a round of coughing from a couple of the skeletons. Then, silence.

“Depends on the mood being set,” Currant says, and Wax nods his agreement.

“As much as I hate to agree with this asshole, yeah,” Red says. There are mutters of agreement and nods from everyone else.

CE produces a small stack of cards, and the next question appears on the screen.

Q: To Edge, Red, Blue, Stretch, Classic, and Vanilla: You're about to receive a bite on your collarbone. Gentle or hard?

“Wow. Seriously, who is asking these questions?” Edge asks, crossing his arms.

“As hard as they want it to be,” Red says with a wink, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, shut up,” Edge hisses at him, but Red just chuckles.

“Gentle?” Vanilla offers next.

“Yeah, same here,” Classic says.

“Ditto.” Stretch says.

“Hard!” Blue declares.

Edge looks away, his face turning whiter. “...gentle.”

To Edge, Red, Blue, Mutt, Rust, and Currant: If you get a chance to bite back, gentle or hard?

“Hard.” Currant says.

“Nobody asked,” Rust snaps.

Currant grins, raising a brow, “but didn’t they..?”

“Just shut the fuck up,” Rust growls, and Currant chuckles.

“Well,” Red says, taking the attention off the pair, “you already know my answer.”

Mutt shrugs, “I don’t mind making them squirm a little.”

“Same answer as before!” Blue replies.

“...gentle,” Edge says under his breath.

The attention falls on Rust, and he slowly turns white. “Hell if I know,” he growls, looking away, “hard, I guess.”

Q: Currant, Wax, Rust, Vulture, Red, Edge, Black, Axe, and Pie: You're being given a sensual kiss, but it can only be placed anywhere besides the face and neck, what spot do you choose? 

Currant grins wide, but before he can say a single word, Rust interrupts.

“Ribs. And it’s the same for the bitch.” He glares at Currant as if to challenge him to argue. Currant just shrugs.

“Sure, I don’t care. They’ll end up where I want them eventually.”

“Also ribs,” Wax says. Pie and Axe nod in agreement.

“Spine, I suppose,” Black says. Vulture nods, his face slightly white.

“They may kiss my feet!” Edge declares, leaning back in his seat confidently. Red chuckles. “What’s that, oaf?”

“Nothin, boss,” Red snickers.

“Well, what about you then?” Edge spits. Red smirks, and Edge throws a boot at him, “nevermind! Keep your filthy thoughts to yourself!”

Q: Currant, Wax, Rust, Red, Edge, Mutt, Classic, Stretch, and Axe: What crazy place would you be willing to bang in if you were guaranteed not to get caught?

“But getting caught is half the fun,” Currant says immediately, “but…crazy places?" He grins, “a shed." Rust looks disgusted. 

Stretch shrugs, “what are we counting as crazy here? A car? A public bathroom?”

“Anywhere with a door and a lock,” Axe says.

“Don’t see why we couldn’t keep it at home,” Classic says.

Mutt shrugs, “just about anywhere.” He smirks, “maybe in the woods.”

“Wherever my partner is comfortable with,” Wax says.

“Agreed,” Red says.

“I’m agreeing with the headcase,” Edge says, jabbing a finger in Axe’s direction.

“Yeah. Me too.” Rust says.

“Wonderful! Everyone is doing a great job! Now for the more personal questions!” Quite a few skeletons disappear, leaving only Currant, Axe, Wax, Black, Rust, Edge and Vulture.

Q: Currant and Axe, what song reminds you of your Y/N?

Currant looks thoughtful for a second, smiling just slightly, “maybe…Centuries, by Fall Out Boy.”

“I Like Me Better.” Axe answers curtly, side eyeing Currant.

“By Luav!”

Q: Currant, Rust and Axe, how far would you go to make sure your Y/N stayed with you?

“As far as I need to go," Currant says without hesitation, smiling. 

Rust glances at him, disgust in his expression, and then looks away, seeming unsure, “I don't know.” He frowns, slightly. 

Axe looks at the other two with nothing less than judgment. “...depends. If they’re leaving of their own accord, they have a reason. Who am I to stop them? But if someone was trying to take them?” He smiles, just slightly, "what is it you humans say? ‘I’d move heaven and Earth’?”

Q: What if someone strong staked a claim on your Y/N?

“How strong?" Rust asks. “I mean, I’m willing to get my hands dirty, but if you’re implying I have little chance of winning, I’m not getting dusted over a human.”

Currant just shrugs, “once again, I’d do whatever it took.” He grins, "if I can't beat them hand to hand, I’ll find another way.”

“‘Staked a claim’?” Axe echoes, eye sockets narrowing. "What kind of…” he shakes his head, leaning back in his chair, "well, they can have Y/N. Over my dust.” He glances away, "unless Y/N chose them.” His smile is slightly bitter, "then it doesn't really matter.”

The other two give him a look. 

“Thank you, Axe! Enjoy your time off!” He flips off the air and disappears.

Q: Currunt and Rusty-

Currant’s brow raises, whereas Rust’s eye sockets narrow. 

-what if your brother took your Y/N?

Currant’s smile widens, “he wouldn't. But, if he did,” he crosses his legs, “I’d make him regret it.”

Rust looks away, “...I don't know.”

Q: Cunt-runt and Crusty-

Currant doubles over, laughing, “c-cunt-runt? Where the fuck-?”

Rust just blinks. “Crusty?”

Currant laughs harder, “Crusty! Oh, I’m calling you that now!”

Rust glares at him, “I’ll fucking dust you.”

-what if your Y/N and brother were happy together and wanted to share their joy? Like, as a family, with the strongest of bonds. Your actions would not be held against you, as long as you tried to be better.

Currant scoffs, “happy together? What a fever dream.” His grin is slightly forced, “hell no.”

Rust pauses, looking down at the floor, “...happy? A family?” There’s a lapse of silence. “...yeah, I guess.” Sounds crazy as shit, though.

“Anddd, that’s it for the group questions! Everyone to their private rooms!” In a stutter, The room is suddenly much smaller and only Black is sitting on the single couch. “Good luck, Black!”

“Was that a threat?”

Q: First off, Black, how does it feel to know you’re the fan favorite when it comes to bullying a character with spicy situations?

“I’m…what?” He asks, turning white. “Why?” His eye sockets narrow, “if you’re mocking me-”

Q: Can you get back to me about the lap thing? I’ve been waiting for centuries!!

“No.”

Q: In the safety of your room, collar and leash, or handcuffs? Why? I need all of the details!!

He looks to the floor, “...collar. I prefer to have my hands free.”

Q: And, personal question, can you check my soul? I think it might have your name on it…but I don’t know…

His face flares bright white, “uh…”

Q: You're about to receive a bite on your collarbone. Gentle or long and hard? Bet you can’t handle the second choice…

He glares, “I can.” He tips his chin up, “but the first is my preference.”

Q: What would make you feel loved in a romantic relationship?

He pauses in honest thought, sipping his tea, “I suppose…” he stares into his mug for a moment, “physical affection?”

Q: How do you like to be kissed, Captain?

He flushes slightly, “...with warmth.”

“Thank you for your service, Captain! That’s all!”

“Finally,” he says, “I have very important things to attend to after all!”

“Of course.”

Black disappears, replaced with Edge.

“Welcome in, Edge! This shall be kept short!”

He scoffs slightly, “as it should.”

Q: Edge, Mutt told me you have no game; what's your best pickup line? Here, tell it to VBPS Y/N. I'll judge whether it was good or not.

VBPS Y/N appears in the room, looking bewildered. “Uh…”

“He said WHAT?” Edge shouts. He huffs slightly, “well.” He rolls his non-existent eyes and turns to Y/N. Begrudgingly, he takes their hand in his own and a slow blush spreads across his face, despite his stoney expression, “I’ve been made to believe this world is a cold place, but you-” he struggles, “make me believe in the warmth.”

Q: Ah hah, looks like they've fallen for it and are now asking for your hand in marriage in front of everyone in a grand display of affection. What do you do?

Y/N disappears.

“A simple no will suffice, I have no need for such indulgences!” Edge says with a dismissive wave.

“Damn right! Rock being single! Thank you for answering our questions!”

Edge disappears, replaced with Vulture, who looks around for a moment before settling down. CE pulls out the first card.

Q: Vulture, what if you had the opportunity to tell VBPS Y/N anything, but they would not remember it after three hours. What would you say?

He pauses, his expression unchanging despite the thoughts racing through his head.

“What is there to say?” He scoffs, shaking his head, “I suppose I would apologize. For all of the damage I caused, and all of the damage I did not save them from.”

Q: If you also had the opportunity to do things that VBPS Y/N would not remember after three hours? What things would you choose to do?

His brow furrows slightly. “I don’t see what I would need them to forget. But…” he sighs, “perhaps I would make them dinner? It doesn’t make up for anything, really. But…maybe it’d be a step in the right direction.”

Q: If VBPS Y/N was asked the same question and they said they would like for you to pick them up and take them to bed so they can nuzzle their cheek against yours for the next two hours and fifty-nine seconds, while laying on top of you, what do you say?

He shrugs, “I wouldn’t remember, so what does it matter?”

Q: If you were to catch your brother asleep, hugging Y/N, and purring really loudly, what would you think?

How adorable. 

“That would be completely undignified and dangerous for both of them.” He says with a sip of his tea. 

“A fair point! Now, onwards! Thank you, Vulture!”

He disappears, and Rust appears in his place.

“This time space shit is getting real fucking irritating,” he says.

“Noted!”

Q: Rust, would you rather drink one small shot of regular human alcohol or hug VBPS Y/N again for as long as you want, whenever you want?

“H-” he cuts himself off. “Shit. I mean, hu-” he growls, glaring at the mug in his hand, “this stupid fucking tea is strong shit, huh?”

Q: Rust, let’s pretend you’re a normal, stable, monster for a second, 

He frowns. “Seriously?" 

-what questions would you be interested in asking Y/N to learn more about them, as a friend?

There’s a long pause. “Maybe…what hobbies they have?”

Q: If you were to try and better yourself, where would you start? 

“...I’d stop ignoring Papyrus.”

Q: If you were to find Y/N comfortable to hug, how much more likely would you say you'd find yourself hugging them again whenever you're completely wasted?

“I guess it's likely enough,” he says. “I tend to get a bit…soft, if I’m really drunk.”

Q: If you ran out of money to buy drinks from Grillby, what are some new things you would consider doing with your time that wouldn't cause pain to others?

He scoffs. “New things? What the fuck is there to do that's new in this hell hole? What am I supposed to say? Go for a fucking jog?”

Q: You realize the world hasn't ended after you were considerate with Y/N multiple times. How do you feel?

He glares. “I don’t need to be spoken down to.”

Q: Warm blanket or overnight cuddles with Y/N?

He barks a laugh, “Warm blanket. You don't torture people for months on end and then fall asleep next to them. Or else they’ll stab you in the back.” He pauses, glancing down at his hands, “...I would.” But you aren't me. 

Q: Alcohol or hugs with Y/N, which makes you feel warmer and by how much?

He scoffs, “hugs. The embarrassment keeps me nice and fucking toasty.”

Q: What if you let yourself chill out at home but kept up your image whenever you were outside? Like you could play games and tell jokes or teach Y/N some cool tricks! You have a lot of time to just try stuff, anything, even you can admit that! I truly believe your brother and Y/N wouldn't judge you for it; they'd be more relieved than anything. It doesn't have to be anything big, you can start small! You're free to hurt anyone else who gets in your way outside, though. Give it a try, you're strong enough to take on any bad consequences you constantly imagine will happen anyways. And you're not alone.

His eye sockets narrow. “My ‘attitude’ isn’t just for appearances.” He grins mercilessly, “but, sure, I could try playing nice.”

“Now, now, Rust. No need to be snippy with the readers!”

“Shut the fuck up, disembodied voice.”

“I could actually make your life worse than it already is.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing~ have a wonderful day!”

Rust disappears, replaced with Wax.

“O-oh. Hi?” He addresses CE. The cat purrs in greeting before pulling out the first card.

Q: How would you describe your feelings for HLF Y/N?

He looks away, slightly frowning. “I guess…” he shakes his head, "I don't know. Sympathetic?”

Q: What's a memory that perfectly captures your relationship with HLF Y/N?

He laughs a little. “One memory, huh?” He glances away, “...once, near the beginning, I heard them crying in their room. I didn't do anything.” He smiles, but it’s a bitter, sarcastic thing, “I think that encapsulates our relationship perfectly.”

Q: When HLF Y/N was with you last, how did you guys spend your time together?

His expression grows dark, and he seems to consider something for a moment, “...I’d rather not answer that." 

Q: What is your opinion on the relationship between Currant and HLF Y/N?

“I wish it had never begun." He responds softly. “I wish he’d never met them.” He laughs bitterly, “is that answer enough?" 

Q: What is a recent regret you've had a hard time dealing with?

“How could I choose just one?" He asks, looking down at his hands, his voice wavering just slightly. He rubs his face, “I’m sorry. I need a moment.” He gets up and walks off. 

“...Right! Well, we’ll continue his interview after Currant’s, since we’re on a tight schedule!”

Currant appears in the room. He easily relaxes into the couch, nodding to the cat on the desk. The cat’s whiskers twitch in greeting before he produces the next card.

Q: Currant, what actions have brought you the most delight?

“A little broad, don't you think?” He smiles, “well, not like I mind recounting them. Raising Papyrus is probably somewhere on that list. Putting bone through Undyne's head. Dusting Alphys. Taking home my kitten. Training it…”

Q: How would your enemies describe you?

“Ruthless," comes his simple answer. 

Q: How would your victims describe you?

He smiles, "twisted. Tireless. Inhumane.” He pauses, "but that last one’s a given, isn't it? Anyway, I’m sure they would use stronger words.”

Q: I need advice, how would you deal with a slave that kept trying to run away?

He chuckles, “It's simple, really. Ever heard of learned helplessness?”

Q: If you could bring someone back to you again, whether they've left or died, why would you pick them?

His face goes slack. His expression is empty, but his eye keeps getting smaller. “Why?” He echoes, voice hollow. “Because I’m strong now. Because I want nothing more than to make him pay.”

Q: What were the exact thoughts running through your head when you saw VBPS Y/N?

Mine. No, not mine. Something else. But almost the same. 

He smiles slowly, taking a long, deliberate, sip of his tea, “how much I’d like to taste its skin in my teeth.”

Q: How would you describe Wax's relationship with HLF Y/N?

“There isn't one." He says. “I made sure of that.” He pauses, “nothing substantial, anyway." 

Q: How would you describe your own relationship with HLF Y/N?

He smiles, “relationship? I suppose the closest I can think of is a dog with its prized toy.” His head tilts, his eye dilating just slightly, “I don’t often side with dogs, but at least we agree that the best way to enjoy a toy is by tearing it to shreds.”

Q: If you could pick between reverting your world to the state it was in prior to the core shutting down or HLF Y/N never leaving you, which would you choose?

He blinks, caught off guard. “I…” he shakes his head, regaining his composure, “of course I’d-” he struggles silently. “...I’d…” His breathing is uneven as he stares down into his mug, “I think I’d choose…” he sighs, then smiles, “no, I wouldn't go back. I’m not the same monster I was. I’m glad I’m different now. I was weak before. But now I finally get it.” He sits straighter, confident, "I’d choose my kitten. I always will.”

Q: Why have you chosen to hurt someone who is defenseless and weak against you, never had a shred of malice that would rival yours, and isn't even a monster?

He grins wide, his eye pulsing slightly in its socket. “Because it’s fun.” His grin slips, just slightly, “almost cathartic, really.”

Q: What is your way of showing someone you care?

He smiles, “it’s been a while since I’ve done that. But, I guess…being there for them?" He shrugs, “quality time is all I have to offer. And believe me, company is priceless.”

Q: People call you possessive, what actions have you taken that best warrant that label?

“Some people, huh?” Currant asks, with a look directed at CE. The cat shrugs- as much as a cat can. Currant smiles, “well, plenty. Not letting my kitten out would be a good example, I suppose. But it’s better off inside, anyway.”

Q: If you were absolutely alone in the world and could only bring one source of entertainment with you, what would you pick?

Currant laughs a little, “can’t you see? I already am. And I already made my choice.” He leans back in his chair, "my kitten is all the entertainment I need.”

Q: If your slave were to successfully leave and stay hidden no matter how hard you looked, how would you proceed with the issue?

“Nothing stays hidden,” he says confidently, “but, if it did…well, what’s to be done? I suppose I’d just move on.”

Q: Imagine your slave is living a happy life without you, why would you ever consider ruining it, asshole?

He smirks, “why wouldn’t I? I don't care how it feels. It's mine. What other reason do I need?”

Q: If you had to worry about anyone bad getting you/hurting you in your world, who would it be? Like who's at the top of the watch out list? Could be a past or present thing.

He sips his tea as he considers the question. “My father. I don't know if I could dust him, even now.” He pauses, grinning, “but he’s gone now." He gets a faraway look. 

Q: Hey Currant, what do you think about taking VBPS Y/N away from Rust before he kills them? I wouldn't put it past that guy. He'd probably lose control or something and then boom...they're shattered before he realizes it. Nch, if you don't move quickly, you'll lose out on your entertainment ya know. Then it'll be on you.

“Eh, I doubt he would.” He says, peering into his mug with disinterest, “but if I thought he was pissed off enough, I’d step in. No sense in wasting a prize.”

“And that’s it!”

Currant tuts slightly, “boo.”

“Begone!”

Currant disappears, and Wax reenters, holding a fresh cup of warm tea. Just as soon as he’s settled on the couch, CE puts up the next question. Wax ends up spilling some of the tea on his lap at the sight, though he doesn’t react to the heat.

Q: Wax, how would you feel if VBPS Y/N were to die in your arms?

“If- uh-” he shakes his head, lifting the mug to his face to sip the tea, “I…Asgore…” he sucks in a breath, “not…good. That’s for sure.”

Q: What's one major thing/situation you've had to prepare yourself for since you were a child? To make things clearer, some people say it's kill or be killed, but what did you have to be weary of?

He looks contemplative for a moment, “Maybe…Sans’s triggers? He used to rely on me for a safeguard. If I wasn't ready…” he shudders a little, “well, it wasn't pretty." 

Q: What's one memory that perfectly captures when the dynamic between you and your brother changed?

“I guess…the day after he lost his eye, when he…didn't acknowledge my eye socket. I wasn't…well, I wasn't surprised when he panicked after they attacked him. I forgave him for injuring me. But when he…when he didn't apologize, I suppose that’s what tipped me off.”

“Recommended song is Drifting by On and On.”

“What?” Wax asks. 

“Nothin at all! Thank you for answering our questions, Wax! Have a wonderful rest of your evening!”

“...you too.”

He disappears.

…

Haha! And that’s all folks! Hope you enjoyed, and thank you so much for the questions! I hope they were answered to your liking! I- I mean- the characters (cough)- truly enjoyed answering every single one! The good, the bad, and the dirty ;) jk, none of them were bad.

[jensenscomedyelbows]

Oversharing on the Internet

Thanks for the tag, Riz @lastcallatrockysbar 😃 This is so old I bet you forgot you sent it to me! But I like to SURPRISE people when they least expect it!

ONE: Are you named after anyone?

My middle name is my grandmother’s first name, and I gave it to my daughter for hers too 😊

TWO: When was the last time you cried?

Well, I haven’t today yet, so I guess…yesterday? I’m a crier! I cry at stupid stuff e v e r y day!

THREE: Do you have kids?

One.

FOUR: Do you use sarcasm a lot?

You know, I definitely used to, BUT…my kid’s an adult now, and I realize I’ve rubbed off on her in the worst way, because she is literally so sarcastic that I often don’t know how to take what she says, and now I haaaaaaate it. I mean, be who you are, but you might be annoying. I was annoyingly, heavily sarcastic for the majority of my life! #oldpeoplerealizations

FIVE:

What sports sports do you play/have you played?

Lol.

SIX: What’s the first thing you notice about people?

The very first thing? If they’re smiling or not. Like, I notice the FACE. I usually know pretty fast whether or not we can vibe based on your face the first time I meet you. Also: there are very few faces I can’t vibe with 😌

SEVEN: What’s your eye color?

Blue

EIGHT: Scary movies or happy endings?

Scary movie with ultimately, a happy ending. Give me all the feels! Dark ones especially! Terrify me, break my heart! Freak me out! But do it all then have it all work out in the end for all the characters. 🌈

NINE: Any special talents?

Absolutely not.

TEN: Where were you born?

Waco, Texas

ELEVEN: What are your hobbies?

Reading, music, Supernatural in general, Dean in specific, my grandkids, Barbies, Transformers, Hot Wheels 😂 and ooh, I love television in general. I’m rewatching both The Sopranos for the first time since watching live waaaay back in the day, Atlanta all the way through for the first time since it aired live, and Battlestar Galactica with like three YouTube reactors for like the 8th? time? Undetermined. Anyway, yes I love TV and have seen just about everything, including Reality TV. It’s been like…17 years! I’m a Survivor superfan! You’d be shocked and appalled at my massive knowledge of Bravo TV show trivia. Also I know Supernatural like the back of my hand, which should go without saying. I’ve probably seen it 10000000X 🩷

TWELVE: Any pets?

I WISH.

THIRTEEN: How tall are you?

Six feet.

FOURTEEN: Favorite subject in school?

English.

FIFTEEN: Dream job

Had it, won’t bore you with the details, but I loved what I did and I was VERY good at it, and the possibilities I’ll never know because of MS. #justfacts

I’m not tagging anybody, but I apologize if you inadvertently had to read this. Here are some flowers 🌸🌺🌼🪻🪷🌻🌹🌷