#the money to move and everyone is trying and trying and working themselves until their exausted and stressed and sick and mom is struggling

[pointyfruit]

Just imagined a complex animated short about Bloodmoon huntin for ye good ol blood except it was in the perspective of one of the children that get hunted.

I almost made myself cry.

[mynamesaplant]

Forgiveness is Electric

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Just a little short story about @critterbitter's hc of Emmet, Ingo, and Elesa. This is between the Volume Control and Volume Control (Reprise). Just a tiny change, Emmet caught Tynamo bc I sort of forgot when he did... My bad. Please go take a look at Critter's work, it is beautiful in every sense of the word.

I lied about posting to AO3 last time with Yearning for Wood Floors, but I will update that soon along with this one.

Enjoy!~

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“I do not think she will like those.”

“Who doesn’t love sweets?”

Ingo argued, plucking a box of Snom-Caps and turning it over and over in his hands. He contemplated the choices of candy in the aisle, the teenage clerk puffing their long, purple-streaked hair from their eyes behind the counter as the two children agonized over their decision. The clerk, Dakota, saw Ingo and Emmet in here all the time, the former had something of a sweet tooth and the latter… Well, whatever the opposite of a sweet tooth was, that was Emmet. The kid just loved sour things.

It wasn’t unusual to see them, but it didn’t usually take this long for them to make their selection. They had been there for nearly fifteen minutes, painstakingly reading each and every label and discussing them in hushed undertones. That was unusual by itself. Ingo was not known for his volume control.

Although unusual, they weren’t worried about them doing anything shady like stealing or being careless and knock things off the shelf. Might as well let them go about their business. To pass the time, they watched the fretful newly acquired Tynamo circle around them faster and faster until Emmet snatched the Pokémon deftly from the air and soothingly stroked its back.

“I am Emmet. We do not know what she likes.”

“We must do something! I just feel so dreadful.”

Emmet could see Ingo working himself up over this, just as he had a few hours ago, and Emmet placed a reassuring hand on his brother’s arm. His smile and eyes softened as his twin turned to him, Ingo’s eyes glittering with emotion and whatever proclamation dying on the back of his tongue.

He hadn’t meant it. He really hadn’t. He always got too loud when he was excited.

It had just backfired on him horribly.

Ingo cringed even now as he remembered the tears in her eyes, her hands slapped over her ears, and eyes huge with confusion and pain. She had run off before he could even apologize, and that knowledge was eating him alive all day.

Candy wouldn’t fix this. In his heart of hearts, he knew that, and maybe he had come here to grab himself some of his favorite snacks to ease the pain of losing a potential friend.

It was hard for them to understand others. Emmet and Ingo were so in-sync with each other that everyone seemed to be moving so much slower by comparison. It was like playing charades with someone who was underwater, the twins made perfect sense to one another, but it was unclear to everyone else.

This was not new to them, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

With their moms being busy with work and their uncle who didn’t have much interest with them most times, Emmet and Ingo came to rely on each other almost exclusively. Drayden would give them a little bit of pocket change, but never much. They had to be ultraconservative with what he gave them and had taken it upon themselves to run around Anville Town to take little odd jobs.

Leaves to rake? Oran berries to pick? Snow to shovel?

Emmet and Ingo did it all and saved what they could. They barely scraped together the money to purchase the Pokéballs needed to catch Tynamo and for additional balls to try and catch Ingo a starter.

Even though they knew everyone, they weren’t really close to anyone in town.

That could have been different if Ingo hadn’t ruined everything!

“Perhaps sweets are not the solution…”

Ingo finally admitted, setting the box down and rising to his feet. Readjusting his cap on his head and dusting off his knees to unconsciously tidy his appearance, Ingo’s frown deepened in thought. Even if he and Emmet apologized to her, Miss Elesa would not understand them. Drat! If only he had remembered her hearing aids, he had completely forgotten them tucked behind her black hair.

Emmet watched his face scrunch up, clearly having a long inner dialogue with himself where he alternatively berated himself and told himself that there was no crying over spilled milk. Gray eyes scanning the shelf, he took a bag of sour gummy-Bewear for himself, and chocolate covered pretzels for his brother, before hauling them to the counter where Dakota waited.

Tynamo drifted just below his elbow, still quite nervous around new people and often retreating to its ball when too anxious. Emmet’s soft encouragement was the only thing keeping the EleFish out while Dakota rang up both bags.

“Tynamo? Good for you, kiddo. I hear they’re not easy to catch.”

They rested their elbows on the counter, chin resting atop with a kind smile to the quieter twin. Dakota could see him beaming with pride, but he merely nodded, shuffling on the spot while he fished in the pocket of his overalls for some money. His Tynamo, like its trainer, seemed a little bashful at their words, and retreated into its ball.

“200… I think you brother is comatose over there.”

Dakota said not unkindly. Emmet jerked his head to where his brother stood motionless in front of the candy.

“Ingo!”

It was Ingo’s turn to jerk out of his, as Dakota had put it, “comatose state”. He trotted over to his side, staring at the bags of candies with confusion before it all seemed to click into place.

“You did not have to spend your pocket money on me.”

Emmet’s smile softened at the bashful note in his sibling’s voice. He wanted to. Ingo was feeling down, his twin often overthinking problems and burning himself out in the process. Emmet liked to take a step back to listen and reflect on people and conversations. A little break would do Ingo some good, so he insisted on the treats.

“I am Emmet. I wanted to. Yup!”

While Dakota bagged their treats in a small brown paper bag, they couldn’t help but lean over the counter to examine them. Although many people didn’t understand the secret code that the twins exchanged between glances, mouth twitches, and hand movements, Dakota could tell something was awry. Withholding the bag, they leaned over the counter with a faintly curious expression and a light tone.

“You guys alright?”

Unsurprisingly, the two exchanged looks, and a wordless conversation was held between them while Dakota waited. It was Ingo who swiveled his head back to face them, his face knit into a calculating grimace that seemed a little less friendly than usual, but only marginally.

“Yes,” he said slowly, eyes not breaking with the clerk, but they could see him shifting uncomfortably. “Emmet and I are attempting to right a wrong. However, we are encountering several roadblocks.”

There is a pause. Dakota still held the bag just out of reach as they gnawed on their lower lip. This wasn’t really their business, and they weren’t the type to stick their nose in where it didn’t belong… They thought of Drayden, who spent a lot of time in Opelucid and not watching his nephews – he barely spent any time with them.

They’re just kids.

“Do you need some help? It’s my job to help customers in the store y’know.”

Another pause. Another exchange of glances.

“I-” Ingo tries to being, already hard pressed to say anything and even less so when his sibling elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a look. He wouldn’t be allowed to take all the blame. “We upset one of our classmates with our carelessness. We think she was attempting to befriend us, but- uh… there were a few errors on our part.”

“And you’re trying to get candy for her to forgive you?”

“We thought about it, but it grew too complicated. We do not know what candy she likes, but more importantly, we do not think it’s a suitable apology.”

The clerk nodded, tapping the counter in thought as they tried to piece together some genuine advice for the boys.

“I think it’s a nice peace offering, but I think an apology would be better.”

“We broke her hearing aids… Yep…”

Emmet croaked suddenly, shrinking back in shame at the same time that Ingo grabbed the brim of his hat to tug it lower over his eyes.

“Ah,” Dakota hummed, tapping the counter even faster. They meant the new family that moved in from Sinnoh. They remembered their dads talking about the new signs that had to go all over town for the girl’s safety. Dakota couldn’t remember her name. “How did you break them?” They asked, already knowing the answer.

“Volume control.”

Ingo cringed, remembering his uncle’s warning about his naturally loud voice. Inside voice, Drayden had been emphasizing, and Ingo was trying to take those words to heart, but it was difficult. Since Ingo’s face didn’t emote well, he relied on his voice and his movement to articulate his emotions to others. They nod sympathetically.

“You didn’t see them?”

“No…”

The boy was squirming now, his shame and embarrassment with the situation reaching an all-time high. He felt Emmet moving to his side, reassuringly pressing against his arm, and resting his head on his twin’s shoulder. A flood of comfort helped Ingo release a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

Behind the counter, the clerk was rummaging through something – although tall for their age, Emmet and Ingo couldn’t see what they were doing. They heaved a box onto the counter, tipping it so the contents spilled out for them to see, and the boys were confused.

“Headphones?”

Emmet leaned forward on his tiptoes to look at the colorful array of boxes that ranged from normal headphones to ones that had Pikachu and Eevee ears topping them.

“Yeah, uh, maybe if she wears these, you’ll remember right away that she has headphones in.”

It was a half-baked idea. In truth, Dakota felt a bit sheepish about it now that the idea was out of their head, but when they looked up, the boys were beaming – well, Emmet beamed. Ingo reminded of them of their friend’s Purrloin in a way they couldn’t quite put their finger on.

“Bravo! What a marvelous suggestion!”

Ingo practically cheered, stepping beside Emmet to look through the headphones. It was probably going to cost them a bit from the tags on the boxes, but it would be worth it. The headphones would immediately remind Ingo that she had hearing aids in so he would be more inclined to get Miss Elesa’s attention in a different fashion, but it also might do the same for others who were unaware of her deafness.

“Sure – er, thank you…” Dakota was looking at the prices now and mentally smacked their forehead. They probably couldn’t afford the headphones. “I’ll-” They hesitate. It almost pained them to say what they were going to next. “I’ll pay for them so you can take them to her now.” The twins’ eyes went wide, both about to protest when Dakota interrupted, “In exchange, you can do a few chores for me at my place. I need to do some yardwork, but it always gives me hay fever. Sound like a deal?”

The answer was easy for them. Dakota told them to pick ones that they thought Miss Elesa would like.

“I think these ones are quite dashing.”

Ingo said, picking up the box with the Pikachu ears. Emmet pursed his lips and shook his head.

“Nope. Too big. Not a gamer girl.”

They continued to rummage through the boxes. They agreed that she must like Electric types. She had a Blitzle as her partner after all.

“I cannot recall, she is from Hoenn, correct?”

Emmet shrugged, unsure himself because they had both been looking through a magazine with an expose on the newest train lines running out of Nimbasa when she had been introduced. That just meant to them that, when the time came, going on their Pokémon journey by rail would be all the easier.

“Not sure.” He looked at the box Ingo had in his hand and his smile broadened, nodding in agreement to his brother’s unasked query. The perfect balance of subtle but stylish. “I am Emmet. Those are perfect.”

Plusle and Minun headphones.

[trippinsorrows]

give me a reason + two

authors note: wow! so humbled by people's interest in this one! forgot to mention that i'll be playing around with joe's career, in terms of the timeline and whatnot.

also, if ya'll ever watched the bernie mac show, i was very much inspired in one section by that scene where vanessa and them was doing that car wash at bernie's house lmaooo

in addition (last point, i swear lmao), i can do faceclaims for the character, mainly mariella's family. if ya'll want. i know some people prefer to visualize for themselves. just lmk.

i don't own any lyrics used.

previous chapter

words: 7k

song inspo: just give me a reason by p!nk and nate ruess

warnings: language, fluff, some angst, blink and you'll miss it sexy time.

Spring, 2005

Spring break.

The time looked forward to by most students, especially college students, who are granted a free week to get into all kinds of trouble, mischief and then return to campus like nothing ever happened. 

Joe and Byron can’t deny that they’ve definitely had their fair share of that the first part of college, but now with two years under their belts and only two years left to go, they’re focused on having killer seasons and landing their dreams of going into the NFL.

It’s why when coach decides to give the players a break, canceling all practices during said break, there’s not even an initial question about what they should do with their time.

Home.

They’re going home.

Because while being away is nice at times, there’s absolutely no place like home and being surrounded by the people you love the most.

Byron glances at Joe who’s looking down at his phone. “You gonna see Brianna while we in town?”

Joe looks up. He can’t say he hasn’t thought about it. Brianna, Joe’s last high school girlfriend, was inarguably the easiest of all the girls he’s ever dated. And if not for him not wanting to be tied down while away at college, he would have tried to make it work. 

“I don’t know,” he answers, truthfully. “We’ll see.”

“Well, I’m definitely hitting up Tamia. Heard she and ole’ dude broke up.”

Joe shakes his head. Tamia has been Byron’s on and off girlfriend since freaking middle school. They date, break up, date other people, break up with said other people and start right back over. Truthfully, Joe can see Tamia being the one for Byron considering how long they’ve been in this little cycle. 

“Just make sure you’re safe, man.”

Byron looks like he’s just been told to make sure he wears a seatbelt. “Always, bro. You know me.”

Joe knows him alright. Knows he can be reckless at times. And with so much at stake in the next upcoming two years, they can’t afford to be reckless. 

“I do. That’s why I’m saying it.”

“Man….” Joe laughs at Byron’s dismissal. “What do we have here?” Joe turns his attention to where Byron has set his gaze only to quickly scowl with disgust. “Ugh, they in high school.”

Joe is also instantly repulsed. “That’s fucking gross.” 

Byron shakes in his seat, as if trying to shake the disgust off himself when he sees something. “Wait a minute…” Joe again tries to see what’s triggered the exclamation of irritation. “Oh hell no.”

“What are you—what the hell!” Joe shouts out as Byron suddenly swerves into the next turn lane, barely missing hitting a car. “The fuck are you doing, man!”

“That’s Ella out there!” He answers, speeding near the station where a bunch of high school girls are operating a car wash, trying to raise money for who knows what. 

At the mention of Ri, Joe’s attention is snatched. “What?” He’s looking around as Byron looks to quickly park the truck, clearly eager to get out. Joe doesn’t see her just yet. It’s not until they’re parked and out of the car that his eyes land on her.

Her smile is the first thing he notices. She’s laughing. Not surprising. For as long as he’s known her, which has been his whole life essentially, she’s always the one in the group to make everyone laugh.

Usually from her klutziness. 

It’s never a dull moment with Mariella Holmes. 

Moving closer, he can see that it’s definitely Ri, and she’s giggling along with the other girls, dancing to what he recognizes is Black Eyed Peas latest song, “My Humps.”

It’s that realization that helps Joe understand why Byron is so annoyed.

The dancing could be seen as a bit provocative.

“Ella!”

Her head snaps up at Byron’s voice, easily landing on him. Joe watches her mouth drop open in shock before she shouts, “BJ!”

Dropping the soapy rag in the bucket, she’s nearly sprinting over to the two of them, tackling Byron with a hug first. “What are you doing here?”

It’s when she steps back that she moves over to him. She smirks, crossing her arms. “Should have known you wouldn’t turn down a chance to come see me.”

Joe laughs, pulling her in for a hug. “Never.”

“What am I doing here?” Byron cuts in, angrily gesturing to her. “What are you doing out here dressed like this?”

She looks down at her outfit, frowning. Joe does the same. It’s a bathing suit top with jean shorts and flip flops. What’s so bad about that?

And she expresses as such.

“Ummm, the dance team is having a car wash. We’re trying to raise money for travel costs this season.”

This doesn’t seem acceptable to Byron as he asks, “well, you ain’t having nothing else to wear? All exposed and everything.”

That’s when she rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so annoying.” 

He starts to pull his shirt off when even Joe chimes in, “dude, come on.”

“She’s half naked!”

“I’m wearing a bathing suit, BJ.” Mariella says it like he’s slow. Like he was on the short bus. “I know you’ve been away at school, so you haven’t been around as much, but I have boobs now—”

At that, both Joe and Byron turn up their nose. The last thing they need is that type of visual.

She continues, gesturing to her body. “I hit puberty, and allll the areas started filling out. It happens!”

“I’m gonna be sick.” Byron covers his mouth. “I don’t give a damn. You’re sixteen, not twenty-one.”

She gives a sly smile. “That’s not what my fake ID says.”

Joe catches her gaze, seeing that she’s just messing with him. It makes him laugh. 

“Your what? Girl, you done lost your damn mind.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Relax, BJ. You know I can’t get a fake ID. My dumbass would feel too bad and turn myself in.”

“That’s true,” Joe chimes, and she glares, reaching over to hit him. She starts to say something, only for her eyes to go wide. “What’s wrong?”

She says nothing, just awkwardly shifting her weight from one leg to another. He starts to ask again when a new voice joins the conversation. 

“Hey, babe.”

Byron jumps to a new level of annoyance. “Babe?” He and Joe watch as some scrawny looking little boy, who’s really not that scrawny in actuality but looks it compared to Byron and Joe, walks up to Mariella, kissing her. 

Byron looks like he’s about to have a stroke. He asks with all the smoke. “Who the hell are you?” 

Scrawny scoffs and has the audacity to throw the question back at him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh my god.” Mariella murmurs, slapping her hand against her forehead. “BJ, this is my boyfriend, Derrick—”

Mariella having a boyfriend makes sense to Joe. She’s 16 now. Why wouldn’t she be dating? It’s normal and expected. 

If only Byron saw it that way. “Boyfriend? Since when do you have a boy—”

“Derrick, this is my brother, BJ or Byron, and basically like my non-blood brother, Joe.”

Scrawny AKA Derrick looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Oh shit, my bad—”

If only he knew that Byron doesn’t forgive nor does he forget when it comes to his little sisters, especially Mariella. 

He steps toward the shorter young man. “Naw. You bad. You wanted to know who the hell I was, so let me tell you, I’m the nigga that’s gon fuck you up if you ever—”

“Byron!” Mariella is now fuming, grabbing him by his arm as she tugs him in a different direction. “Give us a couple minutes.” She flashes a sweet smile at Derrick and a pleading expression to Joe for him to also be nice.

Joe waits until they’re out of hearing distance. He then slaps Derrick on the arm. “Don’t take it personally. That’s just Byron. He’s always been a hothead.”

Derrick gives a nervous laugh, showing off braces that Joe didn’t notice before. He refrains from frowning. Ri could definitely do better than this dweeb. “You like Ri?”

Derrick shrugs, offering an unimpressive. “She’s alright.”

And that’s all Joe needs to hear to know what this kid is really about. Stepping toward him, he keeps his voice leveled and expression ice cold. “Do anything to hurt her, and you won’t have to worry about Byron.” He gives a steel smile. “I’m the one you’ll never see coming.”

———-

Present 

Post-traumatic amnesia (PTA) 

Or some milder form of it. 

Amnesia, at the very least.

That’s what Dr. Reynolds says is the cause of Mari’s complete loss of memory. A result of the head trauma she received from the accident. A prognosis that somehow feels almost worse than the coma, at least to Joe.

Because for the life of him, he doesn’t know how to look at the woman he’s known his entire life, and have her look back at him like he’s a stranger, like she has no idea who he is. 

Because she doesn’t have any idea who he is.

As devastating as that blow is, he knows it hits harder for her parents. April nearly collapsed in Byron Sr’s arms as Dr. Reynolds informed them of Mari’s memory loss.

She was in tears, desperately asking, “but—but she’ll get them back, right, doctor?”

And Joe only has to glance at the doctor, the way his lips press together before he informs sympathetically, “we don’t know. Some patients do eventually retrieve their memories. Others….others never do.”

Joe can’t even allow himself to think of the latter option. 

A couple days post coma, he knocks on her door, seeing she’s alone, her parents most likely grabbing food or something.

She glances at the door offering a small smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. It’s insincere, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that either, because one of the things he’s always loved about her has always been her smile. So big and infectious. Just like her personality. 

“Hey.” There’s nothing big and infectious about her almost unsure tone. 

“Hey.” He doesn’t wait for her to welcome him in, just walks in, taking the seat on the side of her bed. “How you feeling?”

She gives a one sided shrug. He notices the cuts and bruising on her face have gone down tremendously. That's a plus in a situation full of minuses. “Don’t know.” After obviously thinking about the question more, she offers a more descriptive answer. “Very...confused.”

“About?” He then adds. “Maybe I can clear it up for you.”

“I don’t know. It’s….it’s mostly about who I am.” He could definitely answer that one for her. She shakes her head, providing an example. “Like, I’m apparently this big singer, but I can’t even think about singing right now. It doesn’t—it doesn’t even feel like me.” She chuckles bitterly. “Not that I know who me is.”

“You love music. Always have. And you’re good at it. Singing. Writing. Producing. Dancing. All of it.” She looks over at him as he says with all the honesty and sincerity, “there’s nothing, creatively, you can’t do.”

Mariella nods, as if taking in the information to analyze later on. “What about you?” She asks. “What do you do?”

A lot of things. A lot of things he now regrets deeply. But, that’s not her question. “Professional wrestler.” He starts to say WWE to see if she knows what that is, but that isn’t important. Shit about him isn’t the priority. 

Mariella looks him over, nodding. “It fits.”

He smiles a bit. The first he’s done in weeks. “What else do you want to know?”

She’s quiet for a few moments before asking the question he didn’t know he was dreading until now. “How did I end up here?”

What a loaded question he was absolutely not prepared for.

There’s a lot of things that led them to where they are right now. A lot of which he blames himself for, and her as well, but not nearly as much as he blames himself. They both played a role in how badly their relationship deteriorated, but Joe puts the bulk of it on himself. 

He’s older and should know better.

But, the specific incident that resulted in her accident, the blowout that ended with her requesting the one thing she always swore she never wanted to have happened when they got married…that’s it.

That is the truth she is probably looking for. It’s a truth, however, he can’t find it in him to tell her.

Because selfishly, he doesn’t want that to be the thing to trigger her memories, or any memories of all the things that have gone so terribly wrong the past two years. He doesn’t want that for her.

Doesn’t want it for them.

It’s why he settles on an answer that’s neither a lie but also not the full truth.

“You had a lot on your mind and went for a drive.” His voice shifts into something quiet. He’s still trying to process his feelings about that part of this whole thing. “You were hit head on by a drunk driver.”

Silence.

For a brief second, he’s unsure if he should have just told the truth. Been honest with her and let the cards fall as they may.

And then she speaks.

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” He looks up. Joe sees it. That sense of humor that some could only take in doses, but for him, it’s always been a highlight. She’s always been able to put a smile on his face even in the darkest of his days. “How long have we been married?”

Another unexpected question, but he answers truthfully. “This March makes 11 years.”

“Wow.” This seems to take her by surprise. “And how long have we been together?”

“That….that’s a bit of a long story.”

She lifts her brow, gesturing to her hospital bed. “Not like I have anywhere to be.”

He chuckles. She has a point, but the story of them…that seems too complicated or detailed to share in a freaking hospital. Because in his mind, he’s started to sort the different ways and things he can do to help remind her of who she is. 

Of who they were. 

Finally, he answers, “I just—I think you should—” 

There’s a knock on the door, Joe turning to see April and Byron Sr.

April is the first to speak, walking over to them. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She’s almost hesitant to move too close. Joe can see she wants nothing more to engulf her youngest in a hug but recognizes the same almost uncomfortable expression Mariella wore the minute he walked in.

“It’s okay.” He assures, going to stand up. “I’ll leave you guys—”

“Actually,” Byron Sr. interjects, shooting Joe a sympathetic expression. “We were hoping to speak with you.” He looks toward Mariella, and Joe hates it. Hates the almost discomfort that exists between them. She’s always been super close with her parents. Especially her dad. “If that’s alright, sweetheart?”

Mariella shrugs, clearly unbothered. “Sure.” She starts to lay back in her bed a little. “I’m kinda tired anyway.”

Joe wonders how much of that is truth, and how much of it is her just wanting to be alone from people who are virtual strangers.

Strangers…

That’s definitely a word he never thought could be used in any context regarding Mariella.

Once outside the room and in the private waiting area, her parents wait until a set of nurses pass before April is the first to speak. She reaches over and places a comforting hand. “How are you doing, Joe? Really?”

A mess. He’s a fucking mess. Joe has seen much, much better days than the past few weeks. But, he also doesn’t want to make this about him, about his mental state, so he provides a half truth.

“Been better.” His response is gruff as he quickly moves to change topics. “What about you guys?”

Having his wife have no idea who he is is brutal, but he can’t even begin to imagine what it’s been like for two parents to not have their youngest child recognize them, to have no idea who they are.

Byron Sr. is the first to answer, mirroring his son-in-law’s words. “Been better.” 

April shifts in her seat, bringing her hand back to her lap. “We umm—we spoke to Dr. Reynolds earlier today.”

Joe looks up, partially wondering why he wasn’t present for that meeting. “Okay.”

“She doesn’t remember anything, Joe. Not her childhood. Not her family. Not…not even us.” April voice breaks at the end of her statement as Joe looks away. Hearing this again isn’t exactly helpful, though he would never disrespect her parents by asking them to shut up. Even if it’s what he wants. “And we—well, we just think—”

Byron Sr. cuts in, hand on his wife’s knee. “We want to take her back home with us, Joe.” Joe’s stomach drops. “We want to take her back to Florida.”

———-

Spring, 2022

Cameras.

That’s the one thing Mariella, Mari, still struggles to get used to. The bright lights flashing in her face as her photo is taken, whether on the red carpet, on the stage, or even when she’s just making a run to the grocery store. The latter one hasn’t happened as much as it used to, for which she’s grateful, but still.

So there’s a bit of an adjustment as she looks around the room, the hair and makeup team touching up her face once more before they kick off the segment.

She doesn’t regret it. Doesn’t regret it at all. It’s a good look for him. For her too. And beyond any type of benefit for their careers, she’s just happy she gets to see him.

Because that’s the part she doesn’t think she’ll ever truly get over or be okay with.

The distance.

As directed, she walks down the hall, making sure not to look directly into the camera. This is made infinitely easier by pretending she’s shooting a music video. Which, truth be told, it isn’t very different. 

Mari wears the confused expression perfectly, looking down at her phone as if it has information that could help her when she ‘accidentally’ walks into him.

Head up, she gasps and immediately gets to apologizing, just as was in the script. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I wasn’t even looking where I was going.”

His eyes widen as he ‘realizes’ who she is. “Wow. No, you are absolutely fine. Wow. You’re Mari!”

Smiling, she points at him, “and you are…..”

He seems a bit taken back at first, like he’s waiting for her to also recognize him. When that doesn’t happen, he offers his hand. “Sami Zayn. Master strategist and locker room leader.”

She nods, perfectly conveying another confused look at just what that means. “Does—does that mean you’re good with directions? Cause I suck at them.”

“It absolutely does, and you are in luck, because I just so happen to be free right now and would love to give you a tour.”

She opens her mouth to protest, “oh, that’s so sweet, but I really should—” she looks down at her phone. “You know what, I’m a little early, so why not?”

“Awesome.” He claps his hands together and offers his arm. Mari smiles and links hers in his as he starts leading them down the hall, pointing out the most obvious of things. 

The camera cuts, and she engages in conversation with Sami, who’s actually a lot like the ‘character’ he plays. Super charismatic and engaging. Kinda reminds her of herself. So much so that before she realizes, they’re back to recording after having moved across the arena. 

“And lastly we have—” His eyes suddenly widen as he realizes where they are, Sami moving his hand to her back as he directs them in the opposite direction. “Wait, we do not want to go—”

“There it is!” Mari, however, is smiling brightly as she walks toward the door.

Sami looks like he’s about to have a panic attack, frantically warning, “Mari, I know you’re like an international mega star, but trust me, you do not want to bother that man—” He’s silenced by her knocking on the door. 

His face is turning red as he urgently whispers to her, “we should really get out of here. Like right now!.”

She turns to him, confused. “Why?”

And before Sami can respond, the door is ripped open, the scowling faces of the Usos the first thing Sami lands on. He’s preparing to get chewed out only for them to look at Mari and instantly start smiling.

“Whassup, Mari!” Jimmy is the first to greet her, pulling her in for a hug. Followed by Jey, the two of them engaging in some secret handshake that ends with a ‘Yeet’.

Sami, however, laughs nervously, gesturing between the three. “Wait, you—you guys know Mari?”

Jimmy answers, slinging his arm around her. “Man, of course. This family!”

“You’re related to them?” Sami asks, eyes wide. 

Mari opens her mouth to answer when another person emerges from the private locker room, taking up almost the entire door frame, face stoic and eyes cold. 

Sami looks like he’s about to piss himself. He swallows. “My Tribal Chief, I’m so sorry—”

He’s interrupted by Mari who smiles and pulls away from Jimmy to walk up to Roman.“Hi, baby.” Sami looks on stunned as she leans up and kisses his cheek, pressing her body into his, hand on his abs. “Sorry, I’m a bit late.” She grins over at Sami. “Sami was giving me a tour of the place.”

The reddening of his cheeks is about what and what with the red of his hair. “I don’t—I’m not—”

Playfully rolling her eyes as Roman continues to look like he’s contemplating murder, she lifts her left hand, showing off a beautiful diamond ring. “Roman’s my husband.”

Mouth open like a child who just found out Santa isn’t real, Sami does his best to reel in his surprise. “Of course, you’re married. I totally knew that!” He laughs nervously, hands on his hips. “That’s why I gladly brought you to the Tribal Chief myself. Wanted to ensure nothing but the best for the Bloodline’s first lady.”

“That was really sweet of you. Thank you.” She continues to smile, and Roman continues to send daggers with just one, stolid expression. Mari peers up, kissing him again as she reaches for his hand. “Come on.” She tugs him toward the inside of the locker room, Roman finally budging as he gives Sami one last look that has the redhead contemplating requesting a switch to Raw. 

However, as Jimmy and Jey go to follow along with their cousin, Roman is quick to slam the door in their faces. 

“Hey, Uce, uhhh,—” Jimmy tries to jangle the knob only to realize it’s locked. He starts knocking. “Roman! Hey, you gon let us in?”

A couple seconds later the door does open, but it’s Solo, followed by Paul Heyman. Wise Man closes the door behind him. He looks around, briefly bewildered and clears his throat, announcing, “The Tribal Chief has requested to be left alone this evening.” 

Sami is the only one to laugh, playfully shoving Solo and pointing to the locker room. “I bet he has.” Solo, however, also looks like he’s also contemplating murder. Sami coughs awkwardly and turns to walk away, just as the camera crew announces ‘cut’.

The remaining men share laughs about the promo, meanwhile inside the locker room Mariella relishes in the feel of being reunited with her husband in real life, and now in the WWE kayfabe verse.

She’s pressed against his body, arms around his neck with his locked around her waist, holding her to him. “Hey, Big Daddy.”

Roman, Joe, rolls his eyes. Mariella giggles. She knows he has such a love/hate relationship with the term of endearment, one of many she has for the massive man before her. “You miss me?”

He makes a sound, leaning down to connect their lips. “Always, baby.” 

She smiles into their kiss, “good answer.” His big hands venture down to squeeze her ass, Mariella moaning into his mouth which triggers something for him. He lifts her up, her legs locking around his waist as he goes to sit back down in the big leather chair. Joe’s tongue entering her mouth is enough to elicit another moan but also alert her to the fact of where he wants to take this.

“Baby, we cannot do the nasty at your job.”

“I don’t know why you still call it that.” His fake irritation makes her giggle. It’s an inside joke between them that she’ll never let die so long as she lives. “And who says we can’t?”

“I don’t know. The FCC?” He rolls his eyes as she grasps at his beard that she can tell he dyed recently. Most likely because of his job. She wishes he could leave it be. She likes the gray. It does….things to her. “Besides, you know the deal. If we do it right now, we can’t do it tonight.” He continues to move his hands across her ass. “Mama’s got a show this Sunday, and I’d rather not be rendered immobile because my husband impaled me on his big ole’ dick.”

Again, Joe rolls his eyes, even though there’s more truth to her statement than the typical playful jokes she cracks at any given time. Joe has a high sex drive. She’s known this for some years. Mariella, however, does not. And it’s not even that she doesn’t enjoy sex with her husband. It’s that her husband doesn’t know how to stop, doesn’t know how to come, make her come one time for the one time, and just be done with it.

No. This man wants rounds. And truthfully, she just doesn’t have the stamina to keep up with him. Outside of porn stars, she doesn’t know who would.

Man is an absolute beast.

“So damn dramatic,” he chuckles against her neck. “You know I be doing most of the work anyway.”

She opens her mouth to protest. “Okay, that may or may not be true.” She can feel him smiling against her. It’s not like he minds. Joe is dominant in the sheets, wanting to be in control at all times. Her preference given he’s much more well versed in the sexual arts than she is. “But, in my defense, you’re built like a Greek god.” A Samoan god. “I get winded walking up the staircase in our house.”

“Bullshit.” He pulls back, pointing out. “You be on that stage dancing your ass off for damn near three hours.” 

She rolls her eyes, murmuring, “okay, that also may or may not be true.” Mari’s eyes flutter as he moves his hand under her dress. Long, thick fingers easily pushing aside her underwear, feeling the pool of her arousal. She squeezes his shoulders. “Joe….”

He grunts almost, gliding his fingers across her wet folds. She exhales sharply. “You this wet already and really want me to think you don’t want Big Daddy to fuck this tight lil’ pussy?”

Whining against him, Mariella unconsciously tries to move around on his lap to get his fingers back on her. In her, preferably. And it’s when he enters one of those deliciously talented fingers inside of her gushy opening, she caves. “Fine.” He smirks as she warns, “but you’re pushing me around in the wheelchair after!”

———-

Between a rock and a hard place.

That’s how Joe has felt the past few weeks, maybe even longer. But especially now.

He knows Ri’s parents are right. That they have every right to want her to spend time at home with them, in the place where she grew up, where most of her formative years and subsequent formative memories lie. Logically, it makes sense.

But, he can’t seem to get past his discomfort at the fact that Ri won’t be getting discharged and coming home with him. No, she’ll be discharged and hop on a plane with them back to Florida. Selfishly, he was hoping the doctor wouldn’t clear her to fly, but that plan went out the window. Dr. Reynolds is clearly on the same page with her parents about the potential benefit of being around constant triggers. Triggers that could help generate memories.

And Joe isn’t against that. At all. 

It’s just the fact that he won’t be there that rubs him the right way. 

“Joe.”

His eyes shut, an instant headache coming on. This is the last thing he needs. 

Turning around, he’s met with Olivia “Liv” Holmes default stare of icy indifference. Out of all of Mariella’s siblings, her family in general, Liv has always been his least favorite.

For a lot of different reasons. The main one being how she always treated Mariella when they were younger. Not mean, per se. But not kindly either. She always acted like Mariella was annoying, and she definitely could be at times, but not to the extent that Liv made it seem.

Like Mariella was just this big nuisance. It’s part of the reason she always wanted to hang out with him and Byron when they were growing up, because Liv spent most of her time with her twin sister, Everly, and her own friend group.

“Liv.” He really doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, let alone her. Their interactions have always been brief and limited to what is essential. For good reason too.

“I take it my parents told you we’re taking Ella back home to Florida with us.”

Joe has to bite back a smartass comment. Liv’s smirk and the almost smug tone of her voice isn’t what he needs right now.

“Yes.” He matches her energy a bit, reminding. “For the first couple weeks, at least. Then I’m going to bring her back home with me.” 

Where she belongs.

Liv smiles, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “We’ll see.”

Joe gives her a look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know she called me.” He freezes. “The night of the accident.” Joe manages to keep a calm face despite his surprise at her words. Mariella has never been close with Liv, most of their communication occurring via texts and family group chats. 

There’s only one reason she would call her sister who happens to be a divorce attorney.

“I want a divorce.”

Liv continuing to speak is ironically appreciated, as it pulls him from the memories of what is now an infamous argument. “I was sleeping and missed her call, but she didn’t leave a message. Kinda wishing she did, because I’m still trying to figure out just what the hell she was doing out on the road that late at night.” 

He keeps his cool. Somehow. “I already told you—”

“I know what you said, Joe.” Her interruption is sharp. “I also don’t believe you, because what the hell could she have so heavy on her mind after winning 5 Grammys?” She crosses her arms. “It doesn’t make sense.”

When he doesn’t say anything, she continues her accusatory assault. “You seem to forget that we were in high school together, Joe. I know how you were.” At this, he can’t say anything, can’t necessarily defend himself against truth. “You and Byron fucked damn near half the girls in our school, probably at college too, and then all of a sudden you turn in your hoe card to be with my baby sister? Because you love her? I never bought that shit for a minute.”

While he can’t deny his promiscuous past, Joe isn’t about to stand here and let this woman act like he’s this horrible person who took advantage of Mariella. “What’s your point, Liv? Huh? I’m not fucking stupid. I know you never approved of me being with Ri, but just like I didn’t give a fuck then, I still don’t give a fuck now.”

Liv does relatively well hiding her disapproval among her family, to some extent. But Joe has always been hip to her truth. She thinks Mariella should have gotten with someone else, anyone else probably. Anyone who wasn’t him.

Liv, who has never done well with being challenged, steps forward, glare intense and purposeful. “I’m gonna find out what happened that night, Joe. Because I know there’s something you’re not telling us.” He keeps up his unreadable expression, though there’s a small chunk of guilt swimming around the back of his head. Not even about not being completely honest with Mariella’s family.

More about not being honest with her.

She lowers her voice. “And when I do find out—”

“Liv.”

Joe and Liv turn to see Byron Jr. standing before them with a disappointed expression.

Arms crossed, he steps toward them, focused more on Liv than Joe. “Don’t be starting no shit today, alright? This the last thing we need.”

In recent years, especially since becoming a father, BJ has matured from his hotheaded days, often even a voice of reason. One of the reasons he’s been voted Locker Room captain for his team, the 49ers, 3 years in a row.

Liv rolls her eyes. “You’ve always been blinded by your friendship with him—”

“Hey.” Byron raises his voice a bit. “I mean it. You blaming people doesn’t change what happened, and you know damn well Ella would have a fit at you coming at Joe like this.”

Not really. Maybe before. Before everything collapsed so tragically between the two of them.

“Whatever.” She gives a final almost warning glare to the two of them before stalking off, probably to go see Mariella.

BJ places a comforting hand on Joe’s shoulder once she’s gone. “You good, man?” 

Not at all. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. 

BJ gives a sad smile. “Don’t let Olevil get to you.” Her nickname from back when they were in high school makes Joe chuckle. “You going back to work next week?”

Joe blows out a breath. That hasn’t even crossed his mind the past couple weeks. He doesn’t even really know what storyline they came up with to cover his absence. Nor does he care really. “I haven’t even thought about that, man.”

“I think you should.” And before Joe can protest, Byron lifts his hand. “Hear me out. She’s gonna be with our parents for a few weeks, so you know she’ll be in good hands. What you gon’ do while she’s gone? Sit around the house sad and moping and shit? You know she would be chewing you out for that, telling you that you gotta get back in the game.”

Joe gives a bit of a smile. Byron is right. Knowing Mariella, she’d have a whole theatrical ass presentation as to why he should return to work, song and dance included. 

“Yeah…”

Byron slaps him on his shoulder. “Just think about it, alright?” 

Joe nods, because he will. And not for himself, not even for his job, because he doesn’t give a fuck about that right now.

But for Mariella.

His Ri. 

Because she’ll always be his Ri.

And he’s determined to make sure she doesn’t forget it this time.

———-

Spring, 2022 [cont.]

“Baby!” It’s a distant voice that becomes closer as it's repeatedly conjoined with a small hand shaking at his shoulder. “Baby, wake up.”

And he does. Eyes fluttering open, his vision is blurred initially, gradually clearing up to reveal the face of his beautiful wife. Cognizant of his surroundings, Joe realizes she’s sitting on top of him, notebook and pen in hand.

He smiles. It’s been a while since she’s woken him up for this. And while he’ll regret it in the morning, he’s grateful for it now. Grateful for these little callbacks to when they were broke, living in a crappy apartment, trying to chase the dream as inspiration struck her at all hours of the night. And she would wake him up, wanting his feedback. 

He didn’t really mind then. 

And he doesn’t really mind now.

That’s just his Ri.

Eyes squinting, she asks, “you up?”

He chuckles, also enjoying the sight of her straddling him wearing only his shirt. “Yes, baby. I’m up.”

“About time,” she complains, and he rolls his eyes. So damn dramatic. “I’m feeling inspired.” She says it while giving almost jazz hands, pretty brown eyes landing back on him. “Wanna hear the lyrics?”

He yawns, glancing at the digital clock that reads 2:37AM. “What else would I be doing at this time?”

She glares. “Is that sarcasm I detect, mister? Is it my fault my musical muse comes alive at night? That she flourishes when most—”

“Ri.”

“Huh?”

He closes his eyes. Joe loves Mariella with everything in him, but he’s not in the mood for one of her theatrical tangents at damn near 3 o’clock in the morning. “Lyrics.”

“Oh! Right!” Chuckling, he watches as she reads over whatever she’s written to herself at first. A bit of a habit. She’s always initially self-conscious about her lyrics. “Now, it’s just off the top of my head, so be nice, okay?”

“I’m always nice to you, Ri.” It’s the truth. As annoyed as he can get sometimes, she’s never been on that list. “And I’m sure it’s fine.” 

She smiles appreciatively, slightly taking him by surprise as she quietly sings the lyrics versus just reading them to him.

Yellow diamonds in the light

Now we're standing side by side

As your shadow crosses mine

What it takes to come alive

It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny

But I've gotta let it go

We found love in a hopeless place

Finished, she looks down at him, expectantly, “well?”

“I love it.” He loves most of what she writes though. He especially loves to hear her sing. “What inspired it?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking about us. About how far we come.” She shrugs, his hands rubbing circles on her hips. “Your show was sold out tonight, Joe. Mine is sold out too. Like, we both sold out Madison Square Garden. That feels almost too perfect to be true.”

He makes a sound. “But, it is, baby.”

“I know.” She sighs heavily and asks in a partial hypothetical tone. “We’re like really hot shit, huh?” Joe chuckles as she gasps and places her tablet down on his chest, quickly writing something down. He says nothing, having been with her for so long that none of her quirky ways really surprise him anymore.

“Also.”

“Also?”

She glares but moves to place the notebook and pen on the nightstand, resting her hands on his chest. “I was thinking about our conversation earlier…” He’s quiet, waiting patiently for her to finish her sentence even if it does have him a bit on edge. He’s never been good with waiting. “Let’s do it.”

Her answer takes him by surprise. “You sure?”

She nods, tugging at his beard. “We’re not getting any younger.” She giggles, eyes playfully narrowing. “Especially you, old man.” 

At that, he sucks his teeth. “Who you calling old?” He squeezes her side, and she squeals. He knows that’s where she’s ticklish. She falls out, laughing, and he takes the advantage of her being distracted to flip them so she’s flat on her back. “Naw, say it again. I ain’t hear you.”

“Joe, stop,” she giggles as he hovers over her, tickling her until she pushes back against his shoulder. He grabs her hand, restricting her when she opens her eyes. Her laughter quietly dies down when their eyes lock. 

Love. 

So much love.

Joe leans down and connects their lips, softly, slowly, just as meaningful as any other kiss they’ve shared. She moans into his mouth, feeling his hardened length graze against her opening, her essence already making its way down her inner thighs.

He feels this too, groaning and lifting her thigh to widen her as he carefully enters her, watching her arch her back at the entrance. She whimpers, hands moving around his shoulders.

He kisses her wrist, watching the pleasure on her face as he gives her deep strokes, slow and plunging, just how he knows she likes it. “Shhhh….let me take care of you, baby.”

And he does.

He always has.

He always will.

[ranhaitanisgf]

hi hana! congrats on 2k followers once again and if it’s not too much of a bother, i’d like to have a mikey fluff/crack “oblivious best friends” & “stuck together” scenario/hc (whichever works for you) where it was after school hours and everyone in toman is looking for mikey ☺️ i really hope this combination is something new skjdjsjss thank you in advance!! 💕

—manjiro [mikey] sano // oblivious best friends // stuck together

☆ ˎˊ˗ KATIEEE hiiii im sryyy i took sooooo long for this my disappearance from tumblr messed things up 😔 idk how i did on this tbh !! i hope youve been doing well !! and also ur idea was so cutee wahh i hope i did it justice !! xoxo

☆ ˎˊ˗ gn!reader

☆ ˎˊ˗ wc ; 1.5k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

“...mikey.” 

“yeah?” 

“how long are we gonna stay here?” the boy in front of you hummed, thinking for a moment as he swirled the lollipop in his mouth. 

“until they find us.” you sighed at him, leaning your head back against the wall. you could hear rapid footsteps in the hallway, people running around yelling mikey’s name, unaware of the fact that he was sitting in the classroom they just passed by. 

he hadn’t given you much explanation when he grabbed you and pulled you into the classroom, though you think you have a basic idea of what was going on; all you could say was, it was very mikey.

“so, what exactly is the point in hiding from everyone?” 

“it’s funny!” he grinned, crunching down on his lollipop. “but also ‘cause the doors in this classroom are broken; they only open from the outside, so i’ve been waiting for someone to come by and open them from the outside.”

“huh?! why’d you drag me in here then? wait, how did you even do that?” 

“i dunno, but i just saw you and it was boring here by myself.” he shrugged, not seeming to think it was a big deal. “aaand you’ve skipped out on the last couple of meetings, so i missed you.” he pouted, a childish look on his face. “where were you?!” 

“mikey, i told you weeks ago that i would be busy studying for exams…don’t you remember?” you sighed. “i even texted you before all the meetings that i wouldn’t be coming!” 

“whatever.” mikey said flippantly, the same pout still on his face. “you owe me snacks for not showing up.” 

“okay, okay, just stop making that face.” you said, pulling at mikey’s cheeks. “you’re making me look like a bad person.”

“oi, stahppp, it hurtsss!” he grumbled. you eventually relented, sighing as you looked around the classroom. 

“even being here with someone else is boring. can’t we just leave and go get food?” 

“but i’m testing them! they have to know how to find their leader!” mikey insisted, crossing his arms. 

“but you’re literally hiding from them on purpose. how are they supposed to find you?” 

“they can figure that out themselves!” 

“right…” you answered, giving up on trying to make him see reason. you really were hungry; you hadn’t eaten since you had that milk bread from lunch, which wasn’t a whole lot of food. “if you’re insisting on keeping us here, then you’re gonna pay for my meal after this.” 

“ken-chin will pay for it, but okay!” 

“no, you’re going to pay for it. i don’t care if you’re broke; you deserve to have no money for keeping me here.” 

“hey, that’s so mean!” 

“yeah, and you’re being mean right now by not letting us go so i can eat. i ought to just-” you stood up from where the two of you were sitting to avoid being seen, “-let them see me and then tell them where you are!” mikey’s eyes widened, motioning for you to sit back down, but you stood firm, not moving from your spot. 

“oi, sit down! they have to find me on their own!” 

“no! this is ridiculous! i’m hungry and i shouldn’t have to be kept at school any longer-agh!” while you were talking, mikey grabbed your hand, pulling you down with a surprising amount of strength, making you lose your balance and topple over. 

“urgh, what the hell-...” you suddenly cut off your words when you realized the position you were in. 

because mikey had been sitting right next to your standing form, you had fallen right on top of him, the space between your faces being very small as the two of you stared at each other. the space between your bodies was even less, and you swore that he could feel your quickening heartbeat from how close the two of you were, (you didn’t even want to think about how you could feel the warmth from his body right now). 

you knew that you should probably be clambering off of him right now and bonking him on the head for pulling you down so hard, but for some reason, your body was frozen, not knowing what to do. on the one hand, you knew you probably shouldn’t be staying here for so long, but on the other hand, you wanted him to do or say something, anything, to make you think that he wasn’t just an oblivious teenage boy, (how could he have not noticed your feelings this whole time?!)

“(y/n)...” he whispered, his breath fanning against your cheeks due to your close proximity. 

“y-yeah?” 

“can you get off? you’re kinda heavy.” at his words, you immediately scrambled off of him, your heart beating a million beats per minute, this time due to embarrassment. as soon as he got up, you slapped the back of his head, making him yell a loud ‘ow!’. 

“that’s what you get for pulling me so hard, asshole! i don’t get why you’re so adamant about staying here!” you yelled, feeling more shame and embarrassment than anger. you leaned your head back against the wall, wondering why you thought that anything would be different this time. 

it’s not normal for best friends to have feelings for each other, so why were you mad at him? 

this time, you felt the silence between the two of you to be unbearable, almost enough to make you scream with frustration. you didn’t though, instead choosing to just have your own internal monologue until you could make it out of the classroom. 

“(y/n)-chan? what’s wrong?” 

“nothing, i’m just tired as fuck. wake me up when we get found or whatever.” you murmured, laying down on the floor, not caring about the dust and first getting on your uniform. maybe if you laid down like this, the earth would swallow you up and save you from this embarrassment. 

you weren’t sure how much time passed like that, though you were sure that the silence filled the room for quite a while, only being interrupted by draken and takemichi’s yells in the hallway. suddenly, you heard some shuffling, wondering if maybe mikey was going to give up and let the two of you finally be found. 

you’d already gone too long pretending to be asleep, so even though you wanted to see what mikey was doing, you didn’t make a peep even when you could feel him getting closer to you. 

what is he doing? 

your question was answered just a moment later when you felt his hand on your cheek, brushing some of your hair out of your face, (you were hoping that your cheeks weren’t getting flushed right about now). 

“hm, i was able to hold back this time, but you really test me sometimes, (y/n).” after that, you felt his hand pull away, leaving you in much more confusion than before. what in the world was he talking about? 

a few minutes later, you heard him opening the window to the classroom, yelling for draken. when he arrived, he started chewing mikey out for disappearing for so long, which was when you decided to ‘wake up’. 

“hmm, you finally decided to give up that little stunt, mikey?” you asked, standing up and rubbing your eyes to make it seem like you were actually sleeping. “took you long enough.” 

“it got more boring sitting there since you fell asleep.” mikey answered, shrugging his shoulders. he kept the same lighthearted expression on his face as he started to get another earful from draken.

“you did this on purpose?! we’ve got stuff to do!!” he yelled, his face twisted in frustration. “it’s been a whole goddamn hour!!” 

“sorry, sorry.” 

you walked away from the two over to the door, trying to open it just to see. much to your surprise, it opened up, not showing any sign of the locked issue that mikey had claimed it’d had earlier. 

when you looked over at him, all he did was shrug, a smug smirk on his face. 

“you little shit! it was open this whole time?! i’m gonna actually kill you this time!!” you yelled, running at mikey. he swiftly dodged you and went out the door behind you, running into the hallway to get away from you. 

“catch me if you can!!” you heard him tease in the distance, fueling your anger even more. 

“when i catch you, it’s so over for you!!” you shouted, sprinting out of the classroom after him. 

as you chased him, he looked back at you, laughing and saying something that you couldn’t catch. despite the fact that you were acting so mad at him right now, you couldn’t help but admire how the light from the sunset reflected off of his skin, highlighting his playful smile and blonde locks bouncing in the air. 

you supposed that this was fine, for now. 

(mikey ended up paying for your entire meal out of his own pocket, leaving him with 200 yen to his name).

[furiousgoldfish]

Did my parents use cult techniques of abuse on me?

Or, did I grow up in a cult-like environment?

Control of appearance

my parents would berate me for my choice of clothing and accessories

my parents would insult me, call me names or slurs or make inappropriate comments if I dressed in a way they disapproved of

my parents would refuse to take me places until I dressed the way they required

my parents would shame me for my appearance and say they're ashamed to be seen in public with me

my parents would require me to look similar to what they look, even if it wasn't my style

my parents would take away pieces of my clothing and destroy it if they didn't like it

my parents would blackmail me or force me to wear a certain piece of clothing against my will

my parents would physically force me into clothing they decided I should wear

my parents berated, insulted and shamed me for the length, color and the style of my hair, if it wasn't what they thought I should look  like

only certain styles of clothing, hair, and accessories were acceptable for me to wear

Control of information, isolation and 'them versus us'

my parents would ask me 'where did you learn that?' whenever I would say something they didn't like

my parents would blame the school/my friends and say 'is this what they taught you?' if I didn't comply with their requests

my parents would disprove of reliable sources of information; they would insist they're right even when their information was directly against science, common sense, school or expert opinion

I was restricted or heavily discouraged from absorbing certain sorts of media (tv was forbidden, or certain books were forbidden, or the internet)

my parents were happy to expose me to information on how others live only if they were showing me worse abuse than what was going on at home. my only references were people who hurt their children much worse

my parents didn't like me spending time with my friends and would criticize those friends harshly in front of me

my parents considered anyone who isn't like them stupid, undesirable, less worthy and irrelevant, they wouldn't take in new information about them and instead considered themselves superior

my parents insisted that there isn't a place for me in the 'outside world' and that I'm only ever going to be a burden and a liability to everyone

my parents convinced me that people in the 'real world' were cruel and dangerous, and that I was likely to get killed, kidnapped, robbed, sexually assaulted or taken hostage by them

my parents believed anyone who fell victim to homelessness, addictions, abuse, poverty, illness or misfortune was stupid, worthless, lived their life wrong, and it was all their own fault that this happened to them

Control of location, financial abuse and life decisions

my parents would take any money I receive as a gift away from me

my parents would take any money I earn away from me

my parents would find a way to 'borrow' or 'keep safe' the money that was supposed to be mine, and I would never see it again

my parents would employ me to do work that would otherwise be paid work, but I would never hear about the money, they would just say it would go to 'the cost of keeping me'

my parents required me to work to 'deserve to live', I would have to do extensive physical work in order to deserve food, shelter, and basic resources I needed for school

my parents didn't give me proper working conditions, when working I wasn't allowed to complain of being tired, hungry, needing the toilet or a break, I had to work silently

my parents wanted me to work for them even after coming of age

my parents wanted me to only work somewhere close to the family (in the same town/city/district, or in a relative's home) and would sabotage me getting jobs that required me to move away

my parents threw tantrums or had extreme anxious reactions if I were to try to move somewhere away from them (insisting I'd be hurt, kidnapped, killed, robbed, sold into slavery, etc)

my parents wouldn't allow me to make life decisions on my own even when I was of age, and insisted that they know what is right for me instead

my parents would withdraw their support from me, or do intense shaming, guilt-tripping, acting hurt and betrayed and blaming me for their own bad psychological state, if I tried to make my own life decisions the way I wanted (even when I'm an adult)

if I needed to move for school/work, my parents insisted on being in as close contact as possible, they wanted me to call them daily or would call daily

I felt that my parents did not trust me to know how to take care of myself and they felt it was necessary to control all of my decisions for me, or I would go directly into my own doom

Strict patriarchal standards

my family believed that the father is supposed to be the 'leader' of the family and that other members of the family, specifically children, were to listen to his orders obediently or be punished

my family allowed the father to use extremely cruel punishments if he wasn't obeyed instantly

there was a double standard for what the family was free to do, and what the father was free to do; he could act as he pleased, but for the rest, there were strict rules of behaviour and limited freedom

while the father in the family was allowed to criticize, humiliate, guilt-trip and demand labour and resources from anyone in the family, he himself was above criticism and was not to be questioned

there was a double standard for girls and boys in my family; girls needed to be submissive, pleasing to look at, work endlessly for others and act like helpers and resources for other members of the family. boys were valued for toughness, durability, aggressiveness.

controlling, bullying and assaulting girls would be forgiven and dismissed, but girls would not be allowed to fight back.

boys were encouraged to fight and were not supposed to complain about injuries or fear physical violence at all

girls were valued for chastity, virginity and appeal to men, while boys were valued for physical strength, leadership, agression and decision making

extensive shame was put on any sexual desire, curiosity or even requests for information about sex

it was assumed that the goals for the young girls in the family was to become married and were trained for 'serving their future husband', to the point where they would be criticized and humiliated for anything 'their future husband wouldn't like'

my family did not give us any resources or information that would teach us about sex or protect us against sexual abuse

there was sexual abuse of children in my family (by adults, or by other children) and it was ignored, dismissed, either never brought to light or the perpetrators were protected if it ever was brought to light, and the entire thing covered up

Breaking (tw torture, tw murder attempts)

I was denied food or shelter if I would disobey my parents as a child

I was locked up somewhere if I would disobey my parents

I was hit, chased, threatened with violence, had things thrown at me and had people scream at me in rage if I disobeyed them as a child

I was beaten, to the point where I had marks on my body, as a punishment for disobedience

I was starved as a punishment for disobedience (my food intake was limited, a meal was withdrawn every day or multiple meals were, or my meals were less than what everyone else was allowed to have)

I was sleep-deprived as a punishment (allowed less than 8 hours of sleep at night)

I was overworked as a punishment (forced to do long or unusual cleanings or other menial labour)

I was exposed to life-threatening situations as a punishment (someone would try to drown/choke/injure me, or put me in a situation where I would likely get injured)

Punishments would not be over until I would break down unable to bear it any more and I would apologize and beg for it to stop, sometimes it still wouldn't stop

After punishments, nobody would speak to me, look at me, pay attention to me, or give me any comfort or acknowledgment, everyone acted as if I was poisonous or toxic (this is shunning)

After punishments, I would be isolated, without any human contact, for prolonged periods of time, I wouldn't be allowed back into the family until they decided it was time

I was exposed to extensive shaming and contempt for disobeying (I was told I was the worst, most selfish creature to live, that I was evil, possessed, demonic, I was called slurs, animal names, monstrous names, compared to the devil or worst humans to exist, blamed for everyone's suffering, accused of causing suffering on purpose and enjoying it)

intimate, sexual or extremely uncomfortable punishments were done to me for disobeying or talking back

I believed that the members of the family were all-powerful, and that there was no way of escaping their punishments, or for them not to find out if I've done anything wrong. I became terrified of making any mistakes and couldn't see a world where they wouldn't find out

I was scared that the family members could read my thoughts and was forbidden to think anything ill of them

Religious and Spiritual Abuse (control of thoughts)

I was supposed to accept the same religion my parents believed in, and anything else was unacceptable

I was forced to participate in church going, religious activities and rituals even if I strongly did not want to be involved

I was taught extensive religious or spiritual beliefs from the start of life, and would be judged on those standards/had to prove my faith in various ways

I was forced to 'confess' my thoughts and beliefs to a member of the family or the church, who then judged me and 'corrected' my way of thinking, telling me how I should (must) think

my place in society was dictated by my religion, if religion said my purpose is to have a family, or have children, then the only way for me to exist would be to follow that purpose

I was taught that laziness is a sin and I was to work every moment I possibly could, or I would be shamed as a sinner

I was told I was impure, sinful, that certain parts of human nature like curiosity, desire for knowledge, critical thinking and indulgence in my interests and desires was 'against god', and I had to give it all up in order to be a good person

I was taught to fear god's wrath and that punishment would come for anything that could possibly be perceived as wrong

I was taught that suffering is necessary and good for us, that the more we suffer in this world, more will we be rewarded in the next one, and that being put through extensive and prolonged pain would actually save me and give me good graces with god

alternatively, I was told that any suffering was my fault and only here because 'I didn't believe enough' or 'my faith isn't pure enough' and if I only did everything right, then I would have no suffering, no illnesses, no problems and no bad moods ever

I was told there was something demonic and evil inside of me, and had to bear punishments to 'exorcise the possession'

I was told I was so evil, selfish and demonic that I could not be loved, or could only be loved under certain conditions, and if I'm continually punished

I was introduced to a 'new age religion' or a specific spiritual belief by my family and was then groomed to participate in it long term, not realizing that it was done for a purpose to benefit a certain cause that was ultimately exploitative and deceptive

I was shamed and told I was doing harm to the world for arbitrary things, like having my own stuff, eating certain foods, participating in certain harmless activities or buying certain things

limits and restrictions would be placed on completely harmless things for which I would then be persecuted

Escape prevention

I was told that I was not capable of living in the normal world and that I would die if I ever escape

I was told I would commit suicide if I escape

I was told that the world outside is life-threatening, that people are dangerous, prone to attack, murder, rob, assault or kidnap me

I was told that I was absolutely unwanted, burden and a waste of space if I'm outside of the family

I was told there was no way for me to become a part of any other group or have a place in any social circle outside of the family

I was terrified that there would be revenge if I ever escaped, and that someone would come and attempt to take my life

(in case of escape) extensive measures were taken to try and get me to come back, I was searched for, contacted and harassed by multiple people trying to find me and bring me back home

(in case of escape) my relatives, friends, acquaintances and peers were harassed and manipulated to believe they need to bring me back and that I'm making a mistake

I was extensively shamed, told I was being cruel, in the wrong, that I needed to forgive and forget any wrongdoing, that I was doing damage and hurting people, if I ever tried to escape

I could feel that I would be shunned, everything I had would be taken from me and I would be left without any family, any resources or any safety net if I ever escape

(in case of escaping) I became shunned and unwelcome in my own family

(in case of escaping) the worst rumors and allegations were spread against me, my family told everyone made-up stories or exaggerated lies of how awful, cruel, selfish, crazy, distorted, sick and psychotic I am

(in case of escape) after escaping, I was hit with severe terror and trauma, and was barely able, or completely unable to function for a period of time, I didn't believe I would survive, and I didn't know how to function in the world

(in case of escape) after escaping, I realized I had nothing to my name, no skills for survival outside of the family, and I needed to re-learn everything, from socialization with people to financial skills and self care, I wasn't taught anything that would help me live in the outside world

*if someone other than your parents did this to you, you can substitute 'parents' by 'abuser'. Sometimes cults will cut family bonds and convince you that the cult community is your only family

If you've scored high on this list, it doesn't necessarily mean you were brought up in a cult, because cults often use tactics of domestic abuse, and the reverse is also true, domestic abusers often use cult tactics of abuse. It also doesn't mean that you weren't brought in a cult, if most of this is applicable you could potentially benefit from reading resources about cults and how they function, and how to recover from them and clear your mind of their control.

Most families raise their children in their own religion, and by patriarchal standards, it doesn't mean that it isn't religious and sexist abuse, because children are often not free to choose their beliefs or live freely of those standards. It's a societal type of 'accepted abuse'. However, you had anything from 'Breaking' category true for you, you were severely abused and someone attempted to take your free will completely from you, and take control of you. Everything in there counts as torture, is illegal, and is not in any way acceptable to do to a child, or adult, and none of it could ever be done for your own good. Also, control of your appearance, finances, information and escape prevention are strong signs of exploitation and being held hostage and used against your will. Control of appearance is mostly done so that nobody in the outer world could recognize that you're not there by your free will and as a part of that family/community, it's to make your abuse invisible and undetectable. Control of information is there to make it invisible to you, so that you can't figure out whats happening to you isn't normal.

If you've scored high on this list, it means you've been through extensive and terrifying levels of abuse, and that strong measures were taken to prevent you from escaping. This type of abuse has long-lasting effects and is not something one can easily recover from. Nobody deserved anything on this list to be done to them, every point is abuse.

[punksocks]

My Opinions on the Moon Signs

(Btw I’m going to reply soon, sorry life and work has been very busy this June ;0)

Aries moon- The definition of passionate. They can be outgoing and a lot of fun. Definitely super charismatic people. Determinators (more than Aries sun sometimes imo), they’re going to get what they want done. They also really hate not being listened to or treated as the leaders in the room. When they’re mad they get passive aggressive asf and so pissy. Every Aries moon I’ve known has basically refused to be personable while they’re upset. No matter if they were older or younger than me (my grandfather was an Aries moon). They’re loud when they’re happy and loud then distressingly quiet when they’re upset. They stay mad until they decide not to be mad anymore. Then they’ll never talk about it again and be so jovial you could never guess they were upset 2 minutes ago. Good time friends and great at entertaining a crowd though.

Taurus moon- I’m biased bc my partner has this and I love them :0. Softies. They’re grounded and caring, like no one will help soothe you more than a Taurus moon. They’re really giving but it depends what they feel resource rich in. Like if they have a lot of control over their time they’ll spend days on you. But if they grew up during constant instability and financial stress they have a hard time being flexible with giving money or moving house or things like that. They’ll come around if you can show them that they can keep their physical safety. In fact, I think it’s easiest to change a Taurus moon’s mind out of all the fixed moons (in my experience).Also, They really like it when you call them on their shit and shoot straight with them. Also food, they love good food. Any tactile good time really. They’ll make you feel special if you give them affection.

Gemini moon- I don’t have a ton of experience here. Chatty but keep more to themselves than Gemini suns. Only shows you certain parts of themselves, they always have a lot on their minds. The poster child overthinkers of the zodiac (and virgo moons too ofc). Funny tho, always a sense of humor and philosophy about just about every situation.

Cancer moon- Sweethearts. Exalted placement for a reason. Really good at sensing problems/insecurities and putting words to them. They can catch crushes easily. They need to get as much validation as they give. Like a lot. That’s one of their emotional love languages. Can be comforting or very manipulative it depends on how developed they are. One of the most creative people I ever met was a cancer moon, they were super talented and recieved a lot of praise for their great work. A sweetheart that had a lot of creative hobbies and was close to their family. Daydreamed quite a bit, but no more than any other water sign placement.

Leo moon- They don’t need to be the center of attention as often as people think, but they do need to be listened to. It means a lot to them. Can be really aggressive as kids for a period of time then they grow into themselves and can be pretty chill. Maybe a bit too chill about things they aren’t passionate about. They light up when they’re excited though. Also, they can be super competitive, like they can get in their feelings about losing at something they’re trying to show off in. (Like a video game or team sport or what have you)

Virgo moon- Very thoughtful and insightful people. They’re able to pick through and see little imperfections in people that others can not. Whether they use those powers for good or evil is truly up to them. (I have had many friends use this power for good and a relative or two use this power for evil). Everyone I’ve met with this placement has been so seriously beautiful and so aesthetically put together, idk how they do it. Doesn’t love to be called on their shit lol, you must be gentle with criticism unless you know them very very well. But they have a lot that’s on their mind and a bit they’re insecure about so you may accidentally start beef by saying something. But super perceptive people, a delight to gossip with (mercurial moons love to bond over gossip) and they have great ideas. If you have a problem to solve or analyze they’ll often have a set of solutions.

Libra moon- don’t know a ton of them. Not super well anyway. They can be very intelligent and understand a lot about the things they like. And they bluff/charm their way through everything else. Most likely to act differently around different people to try to be the person they think whoever they’re talking to will like.

Scorpio moon- usually very goth/dark style, or they’re drawn to it. Usually just radiate intensity. But also more detached from more situations than I expect every time? They have had a lot of emotional hardships growing up and so they kind of expect to get hurt again by those they’re close to. It’s like a callous for them. If they let you in you’re very special. The developed ones are such sweethearts. Knew a manipulative one that was underdeveloped and crazy tho ngl. Like that person seemed violent and like they wanted to burn the world to feel warm. So either very sweet and stand-offish or just destructive asl.

Sagittarius moon- not my cleanest set of experiences ngl. If you’re like having a good time with one then they’re funny and can be the life of the party. Can also not know how to be emotionally supportive, but will attempt it. But my mom was my bad experience and there was a lot of explosive anger at little things mixed with being immature about others emotions. Throwing a book across the room because she didn’t understand what her (post grad) homework was or coming home angry and yelling after a bad day of work without so much as saying hi. And a lot of being mad at me and other kids for not being instantly emotionally soothed yknow? Like if I needed to sit in silence and process that would tick her off and set off a chain reaction. Explosive anger. Also forcing themselves to laugh loudly after an argument to feel better (Aries moon grandfather did this too I don’t get it). This is mainly underdeveloped energy though. I had a friend with this moon placement and they had a hard time processing their emotions and would usually breakdown for a moment then get back up again. Also people with this placement tend to get most romantically interested in unavailable people imo.

Capricorn moon- me! And a lot of people I connected with briefly and deeply. Having terrible mothers and bonding over it lol. High standards for others even higher standards for themselves. Seems emotionally distant but will break down and cry when they feel safe and are probably alone. And they have a playlist for feeling sad I bet. You either are someone that they tell when they cry or you never know. Has to work out of seeing emotions they were shamed for as a sign of weakness. Gifts are their love language and if they can’t find the words to tell you how they feel about you they will often buy you something you mentioned you always wanted or something you needed off hand. Sentimental types, trouble right expressing it. Will talk to you about everything if they like you and nothing if they don’t. Capricorn placement most likely to go into isolation mode to really consider their relationships and place in life. Might grow suddenly distant if they feel neglected or betrayed. Underdeveloped ones are removed from their emotions in a dangerous way and in denial about all the healing they need to do.

Aquarius moon- also another set of messy personal experiences. Can come up with really out of the box solutions. Seem to either be revolutionary or very very conservative. Like most of the Aquarius moons I’ve known have been men so grain of salt but they would be the ones to most constantly say “a good woman does x” or “if you have that attitude you won’t get married” or throw shade on “girly” hobbies. You can’t change their mind. Even if you present evidence or a sound argument, hardest to get through to of all the fixed signs imo. Sometimes they’ll come back having changed their own mind. Maybe they googled whatever you said and started to believe you. But they’re not going to say you changed their mind. It’s something that they have to believe they made themselves come around on. They often have an independent sense of right and wrong. Sometimes very intelligent, sometimes just bluffing their way through it. Always will respond to opinions though. Can be really funny people, sometimes on accident. Allergic to routine and desk jobs. Usually… detached. Like if they care about you, they’re going to express it in an abstract or private way. Can be hard to tell if they care at all in my personal experiences ngl. My dad is an underdeveloped Aquarius moon and he’d often tell me to swallow my emotions and repress them and go with the way things were. (I don’t talk to my parents anymore lol, they’re narcissistic people)

Pisces moon- I’ve only known a few personally. Sometimes really surprisingly basic. Sometimes they’re just made of magic and they see the world in a whole different way. Emotionally in-tuned with people around them. If their environment is misanthropic then they’re more likely to be. If their environment is upbeat then they’re more likely to be. Most likely to grow up to be like their family/peers but assume they’re not imo. Sentimental with the folks they’re close to.

[warmblanketwhump]

this was originally written for the sicktember prompt “I should have stayed home” but I forgot about it. so enjoy it now!!!

A raises their eyebrows as they see B dressing to go into town. “B, are you sure you don’t want us to to stay home and rest for another week? I can handle it.”

B shakes their head, pulling on their coat and winding their scarf around their neck. “I’m fine. I’ll go mad if I have to stay inside another day, and I want to help.”

A sighs, trying not to notice the dark shadows under B’s eyes. B’s been under the weather for the last week and a half, battling a terrible cold that hit along with the sudden cold snap. After nearly a week of being too weak to leave their bed, B had been getting restless, their mind tired of being confined to the cabin even while their body struggled to recover. But A wants to trusts B’s judgement of their own body and how they're feeling, so they let the matter drop.

Besides, A thinks, with the smallest tinge of guilt, we really do need the money from this market—maybe they really are ready to help. The doctor’s visits and bottle of medicines had stretched them thin this month, and there were only a few markets left to sell as much as they could before winter would set in.

On the ride into town, B seems alright—a bit more talkative and a few more smiles and rough-voiced laughs at A’s banter. And for a moment, A wonders if B’s just feeling better than they look.

But when they arrive at the town’s weekend market and start to set up their wares, A notices the way B struggles to lift even the lightest of the crates, how frequently they stop tug their scarf closer against the damp, misty air, how hunched their shoulders are. A says nothing, but tries to move the other crates as quickly as possible to ensure B doesn’t have to work as hard.

“You sure you’re okay, B?” A asks as they unload the final crate. They look exhausted.

B nods, though A notices they’re a few shades paler than when they left home. “I’m alright. Just not used to this much activity.” They try a weak smile, but it only serves to underscore how worn out they already look.

“B, if you need a break, you rest, alright?” A’s voice is stern, but they let their hand gently squeeze B’s shoulder, and B nods again. “And if you're not feeling well, you tell me.” B nods, their gaze already slightly glazed, and A fights back the urge to head for home right that moment. Trust them. They’ll say something.

The market opens, and soon A’s swept up in orders, chatting with friends and neighbors, hurriedly moving about their stand to ensure everyone has what they need. Out of the corner of their eye, they see B seated on one of the barrels they brought.

Good, A thinks as they take the money from another customer. They're taking a break like they're supposed to.

The morning continues, cold and cloudy and breezy, with a steady stream of customers buying their goods. It isn’t until a lull in the customers later in the morning that A sees C, a fellow vendor and friend from a neighboring farmstead, come by with a grey wool blanket tucked under their arms.

A shakes hands with C and the two exchange pleasantries about the weather, the harvest, the town news, and everything in between as A gathers up C’s usual order.

Then, C holds out the blanket. “For B.”

A takes the blanket, a puzzled expression on their face. “What?”

C gestures behind them. “Poor thing’s looked miserable all morning, and we had an extra blanket in our wagon. D said they couldn’t bear to watch them freeze for another minute.”

A whirls around. Sure enough, B’s curled up on the barrel, visibly trembling and clutching their coat close to themselves, and most definitely not the picture of health.

A takes the outstretched blanket and hurriedly nods to C in gratitude, then rushes back to B, who looks awful. All the color is gone from their face, their lips are a faint purplish-blue, and their teeth are chattering. When A takes B's hands, they feel like ice. A should have known that B would be too easily chilled in weather like this, especially considering how under the weather they’d been.

“B, what happened?” A briskly rubs B’s hands before tucking the blanket around B, then rubs their shoulders for good measure.

B tugs the blanket closer, shrugging. “Got c-cold.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“D-didn’t want t-to bother you. We need the money.”

A curses under their breath, wrapping their arms around B and pulling them close, wincing as they feel how frail B is in their arms, the near-constant shivers that wrack their frame.

B’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “I s-should have s-s-stayed home.”

They weren’t better after all, A thinks grimly. Helplessly, they look around the stand—boxes of goods that need packing up, loaded back into the wagon—and then there’s B, who’s practically collapsing in A’s arm, who A desperately wants to get out of the wind—

Before they can even begin to feel the full weight of the crushing guilt, C’s in their line of vision, eyes full of concern. “Go home. We’ll take care of this.”

“C, I can’t—“

“A, don’t worry. We’ll pack it all up. You can stop by the farm whenever to get it.”

A can barely whisper a thank you through the lump in their throat, then turns to B. “Alright, B. Let’s get you home and warmed up.”

Gone is the easy chatter of their ride into town—now, B just curls into A’s side, face buried in the blanket, soft, keening whimpers as they press their body closer to A and their warmth. Around them, the smallest snowflakes begin to fall, little glittering shards that dust A’s coat and make them will their horse to go faster.

When they arrive home, A practically leaps out of the wagon, B in their arms. A hurries B inside, setting them in a chair and stoking the coals to get the fire high. B’s trembling from head to toe, and A hastily covers them in another blanket, vigorously rubbing their arms. “There you go. I’ll get something hot for you to drink, then get you in a warm bath. How does that sound?” A tries to keep their voice even. B’s teeth are chattering too hard to respond.

After putting the horse and wagon away, A gets to work heating some canned broth from their pantry, then helps spoon feed sips through B’s lips when they’re shaking too hard to hold the bowl.

When they’re finished, A realizes that B’s ghostly pallor had been replaced with glassy eyes and high spots of color on their cheeks.

“B…how are you feeling?” A’s tone is cautious, warning.

“Cold,” B rasps, and still they shivered and clung to the blankets as they hunched close to the fire. “Need…need the hot bath.”

A palms a cool hand on B’s forehead, and their worst fears are confirmed. Whether B’s fever had never been gone or had relapsed when B had gotten chilled, it was back with a vengeance. They’re sicker now than they had been all week.

“B, you’ve got a fever. I….I can’t.”

B’s eyes are wild, feverish, desperate. “Please. Even a minute or two.” Their voice cracks on the last word, and they cough feebly.

“B, I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

After a few minutes of desperate pacing, a compromise was reached: a small washbasin filled with heated water so B could soak their feet and hopefully take the edge off their chills.

After being dressed in the softest clothes A could find, B’s tucked into bed under two quilts pulled up to their chin.

B coughs feebly and tugs the blankets over their nose. Outside, the wind howls as a fall storm blows through, small icy pellets pelting the windowpanes, and B shudders weakly. “The wind. I can still feel it in my bones.”

A doesn’t feel a draft—only the stuffy air of an overheated cabin. Still, they smooth the quilts over B’s body before covering them with a third blanket, gently hushing them. B grasps the covers, squeezing their eyes shut as a single tear escapes.

“Please, A. I’m so cold. I want to go home.”

Great. Now they’re hallucinating.

“You’re alright. You’re inside where it’s warm.”

“Please, A. I want to go home.” B’s voice cracks on the last plea, and A can’t take it any more. They crawl under the covers with B, wrapping them up in their arms and hugging them close, feeling the fever burn through the layers.

“I’ll keep you warm, B. Just try to sleep.”

B rolls over to face A, and A can just catch the tear tracks in the flickering light of the fire. But it’s only a moment before B buries their face in A’s chest. So A hugs them closer, whispering soft, encouraging words as they try and lull B to sleep.

[steventhusiast]

IM LATE BUT LIKE WHATEVER i just decided im gonna try and commit to @steddie-week so DAY 1: somebody to love by queen

--

when steve and eddie first tell the party about their relationship, a lot of them are a little confused. especially nancy. at first glance, the pair makes no sense at all.

steve is a soft soul that really enjoys basketball. he was a jock in high school, and doesn't really have any higher ambition in life than to make enough money to live and be with his loved ones. his favourite artists are the likes of tears for fears and abba. the hobbies he's most committed to are baking sweet treats and watching reality tv with claudia henderson.

and then there's eddie, who in a lot of ways is the antithesis to that.

he almost exclusively wears dark clothes that look three days away from falling apart, he despises sport. he was an outcast in high school, and even though he barely made it to graduation (a few years later than he should've) he is full to the brim of ideas and big ambitions. he's pretentious about music, hates pop and loves metal music. and he's a nerd.

they don't have much in common, so nancy's surprised they work as friends let alone as a couple. then again, she doesn't know eddie too well past what she's already said.

so her and a lot of the party don't really get it at first. until they're having a party over summer break, and everyone's out in the hopper-byers backyard watching hopper grill burgers for everyone and there's music playing through speakers somewhere.

the younger party members are all excitedly chatting amongst themselves, and the teens are sat leaning back on the grass. eddie and steve aren't cuddling for once, settling for linking pinkies as they lean back on their hands.

the song that was playing ends, and a new song starts. freddie mercury's voice starts singing, and nancy doesn't think she's ever seen steve move so fast in all her years of knowing him.

"can anybody find me somebody to love?"

freddie mercury is barely on the second word of that first line when steve and eddie's heads whip around to be facing each other. twin grins are on their faces, and they've jumped up together by the time the first line's over. steve seems to lose steam as he realises a lot of the party are now looking at them incredulously, and his cheeks suddenly have a red tint to them.

eddie immediately grabs steve's hands and starts dramatically serenading him. if nancy thought eddie was a little dramatic from overhearing mike retelling hellfire club anecdotes, she thinks he's extremely dramatic now she's seen his antics in the flesh.

he's gently swinging his and steve's hands as he encourages steve to dance with him. steve just smiles at his boyfriend, a little shy and a lot fond, but eddie's not put off in the slightest. he keeps gently pulling at steve's hands until steve gives in and starts moving to the music with him.

by the time the first verse is over, steve's almost as into it as eddie is, and nancy has never steve like this.

"i work hard, every day of my life." eddie sings along loudly, and steve sings the other part.

"he works hard." he sings softly with a smile.

his confidence amps up as the song goes on, and his dance moves get more and more ridiculous and less restrained as eddie encourages him and laughs with him as they sing. by the time it gets to the instrumental break, the entire party is watching them with smiles and singing along in some way.

the steve nancy dated would never be caught dead doing something like this, but here current steve is, back to back with eddie as they both dramatically play the air guitar. nancy looks toward robin to see if she's as shocked as she is at this display. but robin is just rolling her eyes, like she sees antics like this on the daily. she shakes her head at something dustin says to her, and then yells at the couple.

"i thought you promised to stop doing this every time this song came on?" she tries to look annoyed as she yells over the song, but fails massively.

steve stops his dramatics for a second, and points at her dramatically.

"you asking us to do that is exactly why i am doing this in front of everyone." he claims, and gets a (subtle, because everyone respects joyce) middle finger in return from robin.

"his pettiness knows no bounds, buckley, you should know this! you can only take so much of the mean girl out of the jock." eddie adds on, and that gets the pair another middle finger.

steve throws his head back as he laughs, and nancy smiles at him. he looks a lot happier than she's seen him in a long time. probably happier than she's ever seen him, actually.

"find me, find me, find me love."

as the last little bit of the song plays out, and steve and eddie dramatically fall on top of robin to dog pile her, nancy decides that maybe steve and eddie do make sense.

even in seemingly polar opposites, there is common ground.

--

-> day two

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

The Pretty Woman AU no one asked for.

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Feyre/Rhysand

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Prostitution, Older Man/Younger Woman

Chapters: 2, 3, 4 (WIP)

AO3 Link

For @whatishowedyouinthedark because she wondered when we were going to get a Pretty Woman AU. Well, my dear, that day is today.

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

Chapter One: If I Got Me a Wealthy Man

Feyre tried not to let the dread and panic choke her as she walked down the street.

Everything had been fine until that text. The one from her landlord informing her that no, she could not extend her late payment any later, and yes, she would be facing eviction if she didn’t cough up the now three thousand dollars she owed for both this month’s and last month’s rent.

And, at any other time, this might’ve been doable. Difficult, but doable. Normally her sisters were there to help pay their fair share of the rent and cover for each other any time one of them was a little short. But now that Elain had moved out to live with her boyfriend, and Nesta had disappeared to lord knew where again, their little sister had suddenly found herself on the hook to cover everything herself.

And she was struggling.

She was already working two jobs and even then she was just barely getting by. Even if she managed to fit in a third job somehow and started today, by the time she received her first paycheck she would’ve already been booted onto the streets.

How did one even make that kind of money in a few days? Become a hit man? Did she need to become John Wick for a night? She briefly considered drug dealing…until she realized that she didn’t actually know any illegal drug suppliers. Which was, you know, probably important.

She ended up going with the next best (and illegal) thing.

Which was how she ended up here, on the street corner on the bad side of town, wearing the shortest, sluttiest thing she could find in Nesta’s closet. After all, how difficult could it be for a nineteen year old to find some horny old men to pay her for sex?

Rather difficult it turned out.

Three hours in and she was now beginning to regret her hasty decision. Three hours and she hadn’t seen a single man wander past and give her so much as a creepy stare. Instead, she’d had the local corner shop owner ask her four times in the last hour if she wanted to come inside.

“You look cold dear,” the woman insisted for the fifth time as she closed up shop for the night. Feyre suppressed a shiver as the early spring air gusted over her bare legs.

“I’m alright,” she said while trying not to let her teeth chatter. That probably would’ve been a dead giveaway that she was not, in fact, alright. God, why hadn’t she thought to bring a coat?

Because coats hide the goods, that infuriatingly rational part of her brain supplied.

Not that anyone besides Mrs. Nosy had seen the goods the entire time she’s been out here.

“It’s fine,” Feyre continued. “Really. I’m just waiting for a friend.”

This might’ve been convincing if it hadn’t been the exact same story she’d given this woman every time she’d asked. Said woman looked at her disapprovingly, but seemed to sense she wouldn’t be winning this battle and so left with a parting, “If you say so dear.”

Forty-five minutes later, Feyre wondered where she’d gone wrong in her life. If it hadn’t been apparent before that she was ill-dressed for the weather, then it certainly was now that the sun had set. It had to be near freezing.

And still she hadn’t seen hide or hair of a single horny man ready to throw money at her. She’d barely seen anyone out here really, save for passing cars and the odd homeless person muttering to themselves. God, had she picked the wrong day or something? Did she miss the memo? Was there a prostitute group chat she wasn’t a part of that told everyone which street corner was the busiest? Did prostitutes even have group chats?

These were the questions she was asking herself when he appeared.

“Excuse me, do you know the way to the Four Seasons?”

Feyre startled.

A man had joined her under the flickering street light. A man who was talking to her. And asking for directions.

A handsome man.

…Maybe even too handsome.

“Oh, umm…” she blinked at him stupidly.

“I’m sorry to ask, but I seem to be a bit lost. I swear I was downtown an hour ago but now I’m not really sure how I ended up here. I’d just call an Uber but unfortunately I left my phone at the hotel so…” He smiled at her sheepishly as if to say, ‘what can you do?’.

Feyre studied him thoughtfully. He was tall and impeccably dressed. He certainly looked like someone who could afford to stay at the Four Seasons so that part of his story was likely true.

Which also meant…the wheels started turning in her head.

“…And what’s that worth to you?”

It was cruel. Normally Feyre would’ve just walked the poor man to his hotel herself or offered for him to use her phone….but she was desperate. And from the looks of his shiny shoes and expensive peacoat…he could afford it.

The man looked at her then. Really looked at her, with her ill-fitting cheap dress and haphazard attempt at gaudy makeup…and something suddenly seemed to click in his brain.

“I see.” And he did. His entire demeanor had changed. Where once he had seen a young college student who could give him directions now he clearly saw her for what she truly was.

A whore.

Even if only for the night.

“Do you?” Feyre lowered her voice as she straightened her spine a little. Anything to make herself appear older. Sultry. Unconcerned. As if she weren’t about to be homeless in five fucking days.

“How much do you charge?”

The question caught her completely off guard when it absolutely shouldn’t have. This was exactly why she was here. And yet, when actually faced down with a living, breathing man ready to pay for her services she couldn’t think of a single fucking number. What did sex workers usually charge? It’s not like she knew a lot of prostitutes she could ask. And what if this was the only man she managed to snag in the next five days? She needed to get as much out of him as she could. She needed…she needed…

“Three-thousand dollars.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she desperately wanted to take them back. Was she fucking insane? Nobody was going to pay three-thousand dollars for her!

“Three-thousand,” the man repeated. His face was infuriatingly blank. Was he angry? Upset? Convinced this was all a joke?

“Yep,” Feyre confirmed, figuring she was already in too deep. Might as well commit.

After all, the worst thing he could say was no…and then she would have to go ask that nice homeless man who’d been circling the block for tips on how best to survive on the streets.

“Per?”

She blinked. “…Purr?”

Like…like a cat? Was that something he was into? Was he seriously asking if she would be willing to purr in his lap like a kitten for three grand? Because if so, the answer was definitely-

“Per hour? Per night? Per week?” The man clarified, face still blank.

“Oh…” She suddenly wished lightning would strike her dead right then and there. “Umm, per night?” It came off as a question even though she hadn’t meant it to.

“Three-thousand dollars for the entire night.”

Feyre was deeply annoyed by his ability to make his questions not sound like questions. As if question marks didn’t even exist in his vocabulary.

“That’s…what I said.”

Maybe she needed to revisit the drug dealing idea again. Surely that was easier than standing in front of this stranger and negotiating her worth like she’d never done it before. Which…she hadn’t. But still.   

He stared at her for a moment with those intense dark eyes of his. She couldn’t really tell under the flickering light, but she thought they looked almost…purple? Violet maybe? Which was stupid because neither of those were actually a real eye color.

“Tell you what,” the man said pulling his hands out of his pockets. In his right he held a leather wallet that looked as if it were brand new. He plucked several bills out and held them out to her. Her heart stuttered when she saw the number 100 on each of them. “I’m afraid I don’t have three thousand dollars on me at the moment, but I do back at my hotel. I’ll give you five-hundred now if you agree to take me there and the rest when we get back to my rooms. Do we have a deal?”

Feyre felt faint.

She hadn’t actually believed he’d give her three-thousand dollars! That was just…a Hail Mary! A dumb, impulsive shout into the void!

“Just to get you back to your hotel?” She asked, eyeing the bills greedily.

“Just to get me back to my hotel,” he confirmed.

She took the money.

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

As they made their way downtown, Feyre thanked her past self for having the foresight to wear her ratty converse instead of squeezing her feet into Nesta’s too-small heels. Not exactly the sexiest shoes ever, but they were saving her from the blisters she likely would’ve had by now after walking the last six blocks so she wasn’t about to complain. And it wasn’t like men were going to be staring at her feet all that much anyway. Or, at least, that’s what she had assumed.

Because he was staring at them.

She’d caught her strange companion (Rhys, he had introduced himself as shortly after she’d snatched the money out of his hand) staring at her shoes at least three times now. If she were anywhere else, doing anything else she might’ve confronted him about it, but he had also just paid her five-hundred dollars and was planning to pay her another two and a half grand more once she got his ass back to his ritzy hotel so she was willing to bite her tongue.

“Are you sure you don’t want to borrow my coat?” He asked her for the second time in the last twenty minutes.

And even though she was freezing her tits off she was just stubborn enough to give him the same answer she had last time.

“I’m sure.”

He kept doing that. Offering her things. Asking her questions. Normal questions. Like how old she was and how long she’d lived here.

It was kind of freaking her out.

She had lied of course. She couldn’t exactly have some strange man knowing who she was or where she lived. This was only temporary after all. What would Nesta think if she knew her baby sister had dressed up like a hooker and propositioned a man on the street corner? What would Elain think? No, better none of this got back to them. Better she got her money from him as soon as she deposited him at his destination and then went home and forgot all about this hare-brained adventure of hers.

Thankfully they wouldn’t have to travel much further. The buildings had gone from old and neglected to shiny and new rather quickly. Once upon a time Feyre used to come here often to visit her father in his swanky office in the financial district, but those days had come to a very sudden close after the market crash. Now she was lucky to come here whenever her job at the local bistro needed extra help on the weekends.

She spied a passerbyer give her a judgmental look as if to illustrate just how much she no longer fit in here anymore. Or, you know, it was probably the skimpy dress she was wearing in freezing temperatures. Who could say really?

The entrance to the Four Seasons wasn’t all that difficult to find amongst the busy streets of downtown. Honestly, Feyre sort of wondered how on earth Rhys had managed to get lost when all he’d really done was walk in a straight line away from his hotel for about a mile. It almost felt a little unfair to be taking so much money from him over something he could’ve easily figured out himself but, then again, any man willing to throw three-thousand dollars away over something so minor probably deserved to get scammed.

The man in question stared up at the entrance and then back at her curiously, as if surprised she had actually kept her word and done what he had asked. Then, without a word, he opened the door and waltzed inside.

She stood there for a moment, not sure what she was supposed to do now. Did he expect her to follow him up to his room? Or did she wait outside and hope he returned with the money? Thankfully, he saved her from fretting for too long because she saw him reappear, holding the door open for her.

“Aren’t you coming?” He arched an eyebrow at her as if to say ‘well?’.

She supposed that was as good an invitation as any and followed him inside.

The lobby was enormous. That was her first thought. Her second thought was that she absolutely did not belong here. Everything looked so…expensive. And white. Spotlessly white. White walls. White marble floors. White furniture and decor. White, white, white. Rhys, however, seemed completely unfazed by all the luxury around him and headed straight for the gold elevator, Feyre scrambled after him and desperately hoping her grubby shoes weren’t leaving dirty shoe prints on the pristine floor (they were).

They were quiet on the ride up and she watched the number slowly rise and rise and rise the higher they went. Just how far up was his room? When she saw the number go past forty her mind really started to boggle. What on earth was past the fortieth floor?

The fucking Presidential Suite, it turned out.

No wonder he was willing to throw thousands of dollars around for some directions. This place had to cost at least three times that just for a single night!

Rhys, oblivious to her inner turmoil over his clearly considerable wealth, wandered in almost aimlessly, dropping his coat on the back of a chair and loosening his tie as if returning home after a long day at work.

“Make yourself comfortable. Give me a moment and I’ll grab the rest of your money.”

Your money. As if it were already hers and he was just returning it to her.

She just nodded dumbly, but he was already disappearing around the corner into what she assumed was the bedroom. She tried to do as he said and briefly sat down on the couch…only to shoot back up moments later, afraid to sully the spotless brocade with her…with her what? The miasma of poverty she carried with her?

“Here,” Rhys reappeared carrying a large stack of crisp hundred dollar bills and handed them to her without fanfare. “That should be twenty-five hundred but feel free to double check. I wouldn’t want to cheat you out of what you’re owed.”

He was right. She should count the money just to be safe. She needed it to keep the roof over her head after all.

She didn’t.

Because it suddenly occurred to her…she had the money now to pay this and last month’s rent…but what about next month’s rent? And the one after that? She still had to cover Elain’s portion of the rent now that she had moved out. And Nesta was still M.I.A. and thus unavailable to pay her half. So where did that leave Feyre? Stuck covering the entirety of their fifteen-hundred dollar rent bill all by herself for the foreseeable future, that’s what. She needed some sort of buffer to fall back on while she waited out the last few months on her rental agreement and Nesta figured her shit out.

She needed more money.

And, she thought as she looked up at the handsome man before her, it looked like she might just have someone willing to give it to her.

“Is that all you want?” She tried to sound sultry but Feyre had a feeling she sounded less like Jessica Rabbit and more like Velma from Scooby Doo. Awkward. And incredibly young.

Rhys gave her a strange look. It wasn’t turned off exactly, but it also wasn’t exactly turned on. He seemed…searching. Like he was trying to figure her out.

“Isn’t that all you want?” He asked, turning the question around on her.

“I could…do more,” she said clumsily. “For a price of course…”

He didn’t answer her, just hummed thoughtfully. She pressed forward, hoping he just needed more convincing.

“You could have me for the whole night this time. I can do whatever you like…”

“How old are you?”

The question caught her completely off guard. He had already asked this on their walk and she had already given him an answer. She’d told him that she was twenty-four but it was clear now that he hadn’t believed a word she’d said. And, looking up at his inflexible features, it was even more clear that this time he wanted a real answer. A truthful one.

Feyre glanced down nervously. Would he continue if he knew her real age? Her real name? Her real reason for being here? Or would he kick her to the curb?

She really, really needed the money.

“Nineteen.”

He nodded, as if this were what he’d been expecting.

“And is your real name Vivian?”

“…No.”

“And would you rather I called you Vivian?”

“Yes, please,” she whispered meekly.

“Why were you on that street corner Vivian?”

She hesitated. Did she tell him the truth? She’d already divulged more than she likely should have…but he was being strangely sweet to a random stray he’d found on the side of the road. So what was the harm in giving him at least a little more? Not all of it though. She wasn’t that stupid.

“I was going to be evicted and needed the money. I still need the money.”

“I see,” and just like before, he did. He wasn’t pitying exactly, but he had a look of understanding. “And do you want to have sex Vivian?”

The answer to that question should’ve been ‘no’. She absolutely should not have wanted to have sex with a much older man just so she could pay her rent. It was wrong. It was illegal.

And he was really hot.

And nice to her.

“Yes.”

Shockingly, he didn’t immediately turn her down. He just said, “Are you sure?”

“Will you be paying me?” This was, after all, why she was here. Even if she also selfishly wanted to know what he looked like without his clothes on. If she had to earn her paycheck on her back, at least it was underneath somebody who wasn’t a completele asshole and looked like he stepped out of a perfume commercial.

“If that’s what you want.”

“Then I’d rather earn my money, if you don’t mind.”

He just nodded.

And that was that.

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

They didn’t immediately jump into bed, as it turned out.

As she soon discovered, there were negotiations to be made. Prices to agree upon. And limits to discuss. Honestly it felt a lot like that Fifty Shades movie she had guiltily watched on her laptop and then told everyone she hadn’t seen.

“Is there anything you don’t want me to do?”

Truthfully, her sexual experience was rather limited so it was hard for her to answer that question. She’d only ever had sex with two people a handful of times before deciding that maybe she just wasn’t that into it. But he was also paying to use her body so it really didn’t matter what she was into. Just what she absolutely wouldn’t be able to stomach.

“Just…no kissing.”

In hindsight, it seemed like a stupid rule but it felt right to her. Sex was sex. But kissing made it…real. Like feelings were involved.

He didn’t argue. Only gave her a curious look before moving on.

Finally, he handed her an even larger stack of bills than before.

Five-thousand dollars.

Between that and the money he had given her previously, she was officially eight-thousand dollars richer. It was enough to make anyone feel a little faint.

“So you just…have this kind of cash on hand?” Feyre blurted out, a little breathless.

It was still mind boggling to her that anyone would throw this sort of money around willy nilly, as if it weren’t life-changing. Because that’s what this was for her. It was a life preserver. He was saving her and he didn’t even seem to know it.

Rhys raised his eyebrows.

“Not always. Usually I just use credit cards.” She noticed he hadn’t actually answered her question but knew better than to push. He probably thought she was planning to rob him or something.

As if you aren’t already? Her brain screeched, still unable to process that anyone was willing to spend this kind of money just to get inside of her. If you asked her, she was worth like…a hundred bucks and maybe a pizza. Maybe. Not…eight-thousand fucking dollars. And for only the one night!

Feyre took the money and held it in her hands like a live grenade. It felt wrong to just stash this in her purse instead of immediately dashing to a bank or ATM to deposit it but she’d made an agreement and, damn it, she was going to stick to it.

“So…how do you wanna do this?”

By now, Rhys was lounging on the couch in the living area, watching her intently as if she were a fascinating creature and not a very broke and awkward teenager.

He patted his lap. “Come here.”

Whelp. In for a penny, in for a pound.

She sat on his knee and shifted clumsily, trying to find a more comfortable position, but Rhys fixed that quickly by pulling her against his chest so she could hear his heart beating against her ear.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, as if they hadn’t just spent the last forty-five minutes discussing exactly that.

“Of course.”

He could’ve touched her anywhere. Her breasts. Her ass. Between her legs. And yet it caught her completely off guard when he went for, not any of those, but for her hair.

He was…stroking her hair.

She went still.

Bit by bit she felt her muscles go lax and limp. She felt a bit like a cat being stroked into a nice, long nap. It was…nice. Soothing.

“Good girl.”

They were such simple words. So normal. A little condescending even. But god, they lit up her brain like a fucking Christmas tree.

Oh, she thought as gooseflesh broke out along her arms. So it’s like that then?

Feyre pressed her nose to his throat and filled her lungs with the scent of salt and citrus and expensive cologne as she tried to suppress the shiver that suddenly took hold of her.

She felt…restless.

Squirmy.

That hand kept stroking her hair, unconcerned with the bomb he had set off in her brain.

“Look at you,” Rhys murmured into her ear. “I knew there was a sweet girl under all that bravado.”

She felt his other hand skim down the length of her, the slope of her shoulders and the curve of her waist, before coming to rub innocent circles into her thigh.

“Are you going to be my good girl?” He whispered, petting her hair with one hand while his other finally began to sneak under the hem of her skirt. “Are you soft and wet for me?”

Her heart thumped against her ribcage like a hummingbird trying to fly free.

Oh she was certainly wet alright, a fact he soon discovered when she heard his pleased groan as his fingers made contact with the gusset of her panties.

“My good sweet girl. You need this don’t you?”

Feyre shivered as lust crawled through her veins like fire. He hadn’t even really touched her yet and she could already feel her heartbeat throbbing away in her cunt.

“Please,” she begged against his neck.

Those fingers petted her over her panties. Softly. Gently. Like she were a wild animal that needed taming. Her clitoris felt flush with blood and heat. Jesus, this was already hotter than anything she’d ever done and he’d barely even touched her. 

“That’s it…”

She just sighed.

Between one moment and the next she felt his fingers slip under her panties and brush against the curls there. Self consciousness suddenly gripped her. Should she have shaved?Didn’t men hate pubic hair? Her last two partners had. Perhaps there was still time to make an excuse and then go find a razor in the bathroom and-

“So soft for me here.”

Okay. So maybe he didn’t mind it so much.

His fingers sifted through her pubic hair until they found the burning seam of her. They dipped inside and she tried hard not to gasp when they brushed over the pulsing little bead of her clitoris.

“And so soft for me here too…” She felt ready to combust when two of his fingers burrowed their way inside of her.

His erection pulsed underneath her, hot and hard, but shockingly Rhys, unlike every man she’d ever met, seemed in no hurry to attend to it. Perfectly content to whisper in her ear and plunder her insides while he ground his palm against her clit.

“Don’t…don’t you want to have sex?” Feyre gasped against his throat.

She felt a gust of laughter against her skin. “My sweet girl, what do you think we’re doing?”

And then, just as if to prove his point, he curled his fingers inside of her.

In theory, Feyre knew what the g-spot was. She’d heard it spoken about in whispers in the girl’s locker room, as if it were a myth. She’d read about it in the romance novels she told Nesta she totally didn’t steal from her. And yet, none of that could’ve prepared her for what it felt like to actually find out that it was very real and ohJesusohGodohfuck-

Her body seized. Her legs kicked out. Her toes curled.

“There you go,” Rhys crooned sweetly, petting her through her orgasm. “Such a good girl. You’re so pretty when you come.”

She was shivering.

Why couldn’t she stop shivering?

Rhys lifted her as if she weighed no more than a kitten. Only moments later she found herself laid down upon a plush white bedspread. His room. He had taken her to his room.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” She whispered, suddenly sleepy.

“Is my sweet girl so desperate for my cock already?” He asked, amused. He pulled the covers out from under her and then laid them over her, cocooning her in a cloud of warmth.

“Why don’t you come over here and…uh…find out,” Feyre replied with a yawn.

“We have all night for that,” he pointed out as her eyes began to droop.

“Yeah…that’s true…”

Maybe he was going to let her nap and then wake her up later? It was getting late after all. And his bed was so very comfortable…maybe just a quick power nap first…

She was asleep long before he kissed her on the forehead goodnight.

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

The Tale of Young Fisher (The Little King)

King Fisher Saga (Part 1)

The kingdom of Patchland used to be part of the galaxy's system until Fluff's father (King Fisher) hid it away... And thus, the kingdom of Patchland became a legend. It was a kingdom where poverty didn't exist, no one ever went hungry, and the people were always happy... It had been lost for ages until a certain pink puffball found their way in. (Kirby's Epic Yarn.)

In the past Patchland itself was never really taken seriously...

It was in the far reaches of the galaxy, the place itself was not technologically advanced, the people had absolutely no fighting ability & very little magic ability. The rest of the galaxy could not take the place seriously. (Plus, it was filled with happy-go-lucky yarned people... so yeah, it was seen as a laughing stock... )

It was something King Tulle (Fisher's father) couldn't accept. He tried so hard to get into the galaxy's inner circle (their ver. paraliment)... he was enamored with joining the big leagues. Tulle convinced his people (& son) that this was necessary for the betterment of everyone in the kingdom. No being able to see that the kingdom was fine & prosperous just the way it was.

While Tulle spent his days trying to get accepted into the elites, ignoring his royal responsibilities.... Leaving a young Prince Fisher in charge of carrying out his father's duties. The people of Patchland... felt sorry for the young prince... while Tulle was their king in name, the citizens saw Fisher as their true king. (They knew who was really taking care of them.)

Fisher tried his best to get his father's love & validation by being the dutiful son. He even used all his resources to learn magic (self-taught light mage) in hopes of impressing his father, but he was never going to get it. King Tulle only saw Fisher as his successor... nothing more. King Tulle quite literally died trying... (ignoring his health & well-being).

And thus, it passed down his ambitions to Fisher... who felt that it was his duty to finish his father's unfinished work. Fisher tirelessly studied the culture of other planets & galaxies to find a way to make the Galactic Council see Patchland's worthiness.

Which was difficult because each planet had its own different set of values & virtues he needed something big to please all of them. And realized the one they all had in common was money.

Patchland had an untapped source of raw crystals and materials (cloth & such). Which held a bit of magic in them. So he figured the best way was marketing & trade. He created a series of enchanted fabrics and cloth he'd marked off.

(Ex. capes that would increase HP, a coat of chain mail to increase defense, etc.)

King Fisher was a brilliant businessman; he slowly introduced his product into the galaxy & mapped it out to trickle down to the top. (Basically a self-made man.) Eventually, getting supporters who wanted to move his products, creating the galactic trade route.

Patchland's exports and goods became extremely popular. And now the higher-up planets that once looked down on his little humble star system wanted to trade with them. Causing to sees him & his people to be seen in a new light.

Seeing his homeland as something to be admired, "Wow. Patchland must be a great place..." The people had long accepted that they weren't the most advanced corner of that galaxy (which they were fine with...) But now... the citizens of Patchland feel a sense of pride in themselves.

Fisher felt that this was all the recognition needed; after all those wretched days alone, studying & working on his craft had finally paid off... Seeing the confidence and self-worth it brought to his people... the joy it brought them.

(Navievly Fisher thought "this was what his father was talking about in what the kingdom need... " Well, It wasn't... truthfully Tulle sought glory for himself, while Fisher did it for his people & his father(Tulle)...

Fisher couldn't help but imagine what'd be like once he was able to secure a place in the elite council. The joy it would bring to him and his people... (well, it wouldn't.)

Then, the war with Nightmare broke out & soon, the galactic council & the GSA approached Fisher...They offered him a seat in the government should he choose to get involved and fund their efforts. Raising his kingdom's status (as well as his own), along with turning a profit for his goods to a wider market on a galactic scale. And protection from Nigthmare's forces as well... giving his kingdom top priority! Basically, he became the master of the coin... (Game of Thrones ref.)

He had finally accomplished what his father's dream... But at a cost.

These higher-ups didn't just want his products. The upper crusts of the galaxy were using Fisher's trade route to smuggle goods and would hide them in the fabrics he traded with. And not only that but weapons as well...

When Fisher first raised concerns his colleagues merely said, "This is just how the world works... you wanna fit in don't you..." There was an underlying fear this could all his success easily taken away. He knew far too well that they only valued him & his kingdom could give them.

Foolishly optimistic, he thought, "I'm sure it's for good reason" or "We're in a war, it makes sense..." He had worked so hard for this for so long that he just couldn't risk this. Soon, his passion project... became more of a smuggling operation.

Of course, Fisher felt guilty... at first, but it was all drowned out the more & more he did it. He was enamored and captivated by this new life at the top. Being swayed by their compliments & sweet words, he started willingly to impress his new peers. The praise he was getting (even more than his own father did...), how could he refuse.

Slowly, forgetting the values of virtues and the kind nature of his kingdom. He became jaded, losing his gratification for his work... the more his business became... a business. Back then, Fisher was truly at his happiest when he saw his work bring smiles to others... but now work was just work.

Despite this, Fisher still remained a great king... Some of the people in his kingdom were worried about getting involved with outer planets, but that all changed when the war with Nightmare started... His people weren't fighters... and Nightmare was coming after everyone in the galaxy. Making the citizens of Patchland nervous... they'd be slaughtered for sure! Then, when Fisher presented them with outside protection... with the new title he gained, and all their worries from before vanished.

"Wow, we shouldn't have doubted our king, he knows what he's doing!"

Plus, he had been looking after them since he was a child; Fisher was just doing what he had to for their kingdom.

The people were happy, but they started to notice their king would spend less time in his own home. But every time he did he showed them a (fake) smiling face, and everything was fine: he was just doing fine (he was just dying on the inside). And so the people were blissfully unaware of it all. They were happy, untouched by the war,... not knowing their once good-natured beloved king was lost in the world of the corrupt and greedy.

To be continued...

King Tulle's obsession with getting to the elites comes from a place of wanting to "prove them wrong" mentality. I also wanted to show how (in KBASW)... if your star system was considered unadvanced you're shunned from society.

Named Fluff's grandfather Tulle because... he's a tool.

Fisher's corruption is very similar to the Onceler from the Lorax movie. (And yes, I used Onceler simp in my middle school years... please don't judge.)

A well-meaning, adorkable, sweet boy... becomes a greedy, selfish man who sells his soul & morals to get recognition. But unlike the Onceler... There is no joy in it... become rather lifeless going through the motions. (similar to his Arthurian counterpart Fisher, King during his time of being injured...)

Very much based him on Robin Williams's telling of the Fisher King.

(Plus, I love this movie so much...)

Truthfully, he has the same journey as P.T. from The Greatest Showman. That's why Fisher's Theme is "From Now On."

Fisher learns his lesson just in time... which will be in part two.

(The Grand Escape of King Fisher & the Crowning of a Fool)

Stay Tuned~

[astrologys-the-life]

My astrology observations: Taurus edition

Aries often gets the bad reputation of being selfish, however often times Taurus are more selfish than Aries.

Taurus suns are either really good with finances yet look broke, or look like they have money but have absolutely no money.

✨The taurus suns who are good with money are obsessed with their finances, they keep track of their spending daily, make good investments, and don’t spend money on others except for family. If someone who wasnt apart of their family was starving to death and asked for 1 dollar to get something to eat, the Taurus would say no. Taurus suns can be quite heartless and very stingy at times. They may feel as if since they worked for their money, no one should get free handouts.

✨The Taurus suns who are not good with money tend to spend their money on luxury items, they want to have everything they have be the absolute best. The best shoes, the best house, the best car. They often spend a lot of their money on their loved ones as well. However, this often times leaves them without much money left over as they tend to invest into materialistic items rather than long term investments.

Taurus suns as managers, or people above in the workplace can be very aggressive and hostile with their employees. They are very demanding, yet they themselves are often not holding themselves to the standards that they hold their employees up to. This can be quite surprising because they are nice and caring people, but often in the workplace they can become a completely different person.

Taurus mars are extremely slow with every task they take on. They are not fast learners, and they want to learn every single thing they can about whatever topic they are trying to learn. They are overly perfectionistic with themselves, when no one is holding them to that standard except themselves. They also are very resistant to change and will take months, even years to adjust to any big changes in their lives. On a more positive note, Taurus mars are extremely hard working and will put in effort, time and consistency into any job that they choose. They also have a talent of making a lot of money in a short amount of time, if they choose.

Taurus’s moons are extremely kind and compassionate, they are amazing at taking care of many things, whatever they choose to take care of will flourish. When they are underdeveloped they may have a hard time establishing strong boundaries with loved ones, however this may change with time. Taurus moons come across as very calm and reserved, but deep down they are genuinely sensitive and can be quite moody. When they are upset they can hold onto that feeling for quite sometime, so don’t be surprised if a Taurus moon holds a grudge against you for a couple days, or….a couple lifetimes.

Taurus mercuries talk at a tiptoe pace, they drag out a lot of their words. They do have very beautiful vocabulary and have low soft voices that are soothing to the ears.

Taurus risings tend to have larger features, especially big lips. They have a bold appearance to them with a soft touch. They have an energy that everyone can adore for many reasons, they are very loving to everyone they meet and often show empathy to others without any hesitation. They also may enjoy cooking as a hobby.

Taurus Venus may have many lovers in this lifetime, even after many heartbreaks they still choose to love. Having relationships is very important to them and is a highlight in their life. With each lover they learn something new about themselves until they find the person that is best for them. They tend to have long lasting relationship, but once they decide it’s over, it’s over. They can move on quite quickly, it is not hard for them to find another partner. Taurus Venus like to have their space very organized, everything must be done in an organized manner. They can not stand clutter and messiness. They like harmony within their life and if someone messes with their organized stuff it can lead to a big argument. They prefer touch as their love language and words of affirmation, however they don’t mind gift giving especially if it’s on the pricier side. They are very picky as they have a specific taste, so sometimes it can be difficult to get them gifts. Overall they are wonderful people who love whole heartedly and will go above and beyond for the people they love.

These are just my personal observations of multiple people with these placements, everybody’s charts are different and my observations may not apply to everyone, but these are the patterns I’ve noticed from my personal experience. Thank you for reading 💗

[stackofpossums]

Could I get a Hc for how the M6 would react to finding out Mc's past is worse than they thought? Like finding the shop is the point their life goes from awful to okay to eventually great. Before then? You can leave it as vague as you'd like.

(I have an Mc who was an executioner/pet similar but different from Muriels executioner/gladiator role being Their scars are from the person in charge and all their opponents were never given a chance. Another Mc who tried to live up to others expectations for him. Eventually forced to leave his home or die at 10 because his sister tried to murder him for a power he didn't even want. My third Mc who had abusive parents and learned from a passing by sparrow that they need to run away to save themselves.

What if before the shop Mc's life was actually horrible? So like to the point they never told anyone, not even Asra. Only telling stories about after they had moved to the shop to live with their aunt.)

I just finished a big assignment so Mc who has a dark past let's go:

Asra: He already knew MC past was dark and was kind of glad they didn't have to remember that when they lost their memories. Then they got their memory back. And oh. OH. He never knew it was this bad. At first, he's a little upset that MC never felt safe enough to confide in him. He quickly realizes, "No, it wasn't him." He's grateful MC chose to confide in him now, and he's going to do everything in his power to support them. He'll hold them and comfort them while they talk if MC is comfortable with that. The salamander has already lit the stove so he can brew some calming tea. Therapy has been scheduled. He is fully committed to helping MC heal as much as possible, mostly out of love, but there's a tiny part of him that feels guilty for not knowing sooner.

Julian: He thought he had it bad. He didn't know it could be this bad. He may be a doctor, but... for quite possibly the first time in his life, he knows he isn't qualified to fix this. He's gonna set MC up with the best mental health care. Until then, he's going to attempt to theraptize them himself. He encourages MC to talk not only about their past but also about how it made them feel, how they're feeling now, what challenges they are having, and anything and everything else they want to share. He's going to respond with hella words of affirmation, making sure MC knows how much he cares about them and that their safe now.

Nadia: Patiently listens to MC's story, no matter how gruesome the details are. She'll hold them tightly when it becomes too much for them to bear. There are no words to describe the hurt she feels for them to her very core. Afterward, she is setting them up with the best mental health support money can buy. Only the best therapists, medications, if MC wants to try them, or anything else. Anything MC thinks will help them is theirs. No expense is too great for her beloved MC. She's pretty venengeful, though. It'll be tough to convince her not to make the lives of anyone who's made MC suffer hell. She'll relent eventually, though, because she's knows if MC doesn't want that, it won't be helpful.

Muriel: Out everyone here, he understands it the most. It's a little hard for him to listen sometimes because he remembers times in his life where he felt just as hopeless as MC. He's here for MC, though, and makes it his mission to make sure MC NEVER feels that way again. He shares the techniques he's found for dealing with trauma, as well as helps MC find what works for them. He pushes them to keep going when he notices they are struggling. He comforts them when it's too much. He celebrates with them for every challenge they overcome, no matter how "small." It's the least he can do for them after everything they've done for him.

Portia: When MC first opens up about their past, their a bit afraid they're going to get squeezed to death by Portia's hugs. She's the other LI mostly likey to try to go after the people's who hurt her precious MC, she solves problems with fists flying. But that's okay. She's sneaky. She's going to make sure anyone who hurt MC wakes up to a fun surprise. Other than that, MC can always count on Portia for a listening ear. She will comfort MC through any story they need to tell and wants to help them find closure however she can.

Lucio: Oh. Oh no. No one gets to hurt his MC. No one. Who shall he defeat in battle for you? That won't help? Oh... well... what can he do? Lucio would do ANYTHING to make things better for MC. Just say the word. Hugs, he's here. No hugs? That's fine, too. He's here to listen. He knows a thing or two about unpleasant pasts. But you have each other now. MC has had his back despite everything he's done. It would be criminal not to do the same.

[b4rk1ng-l0t]

Mandela Worldbuilding Shit I'd like everyone to consider

Preschool teachers watching their class size dwindle down until there's only a few kids left

Parents trying to explain to their child whats going on in the world, unable to even comprehend it themselves

Children growing up not knowing they're an alternate Adam and ESPECIALLY Sarah

Going to school and all of a sudden, your best friend stops showing up

Having a long distance friendships/relationship with someone in Mandela and theyre telling you all the wack ass shit going on there

People being too scared to leave their house, meaning their too scared to work-- empty and shut down businesses everywhere you look like theme parks, stadiums, restaurants, etc

The light traffic due to the lack of people there and leaving their house

Going to work because you need the money with the possibility something will follow you home

Stray dogs/other pets roaming the streets because their owner was replaced or died

Dogs/pets licking their owner's hand or face, knowing something is wrong with them, but unable to comprehend that they're dead

Dogs biting the absolute shit out of one and they let out a cartoonish "YEEEOUCHHHH" like take that Cesar :)

911 calls made by children whose parents suddenly disappeared or died Thatcher

Alternates disguising as kids (or regular people) calling 911 to lore in officers Jude

I've said this before and I'll gladly say it again- how do we know that population count consists of ONLY humans? It could be so much lower than it actually it

Being high on hallucinogens and seeing The Fucker Man In The Corner Jonah

Everyone who thought that excessive prayer would help Mark

Everyone who thought "oh it'll just last a few months, everything will be fine ^_^ "

Becoming numb to messages like "Where's our savior now?" graffitied on a building and scrubbing them off without second though

Skyrocking prices for antidepressants and therapy, but no one can afford them because no one can work

Laying in your bed/going on about your day until you suddenly hear a gunshot

Priests and other religious figures contracting MAD and questioning their faith

The entirety of Skinamarink could take place in Mandela. Imagine an alternate fucking with a child just like that, and the alternate taking joy in their fear. No one would be able to stop it.

TMC OUTSIDE OF CHRISTIANITY/ABRAHAMIC RELIGIONS! PAGANISM! JUDAISM! LUCIFERIANISM! ANYTHING! PLS GUYS IM BEGGING YOU DO IT OR I WILL BRING IN MY OCS👺👺👺

Kids going to live with someone else because their parent is dead.

Adoption centers being a heavy target for alternates

"My mom's dead." becomes a common response to 'yo mama' jokes😔

TMC OTP/Brotp/etc Ideas

Couples helping each other shave/do make up because they can't use the mirror

Sharing a bed because you're scared

"Call me when you're home"

Coming up with a code word so you know it's actually them

The overwhelming joy when they confirm *its actually them*

Moving in with someone for safety reasons

Traveling in pairs

(Last Updated: May 30, 2024)

[the-guilty-writer]

We're All Mad Here

Request from @twwobsessed: Hi I love your writings sm🫶🏻 platonic love and care and comfort is amazing 🥰 Could I request something with Hotch as father figure to a bau reader where he provides a safe place for her to be vulnerable and realize it’s okay to lean on others around her when she’s struggling with her mental health?

Aaron Hotchner x platonic!BAU!reader

Summary: Everyone at the BAU has their days. Hotch lets you know it's okay not to be okay.

A/N: I am, once again, lacking in creative flow at the moment. Title and final line are Alice in Wonderland references because I'm hoping someone will catch onto all the weird little metaphors and things I put into my writing one day and appreciate them like I do

CW: nothing super heavy tbh other than pointing out that everyone who works for the BAU is truamatized, reader hasn't eaten dinner and opts for tea instead.

---

You were almost certain that it was Aaron Hotchner’s goal to put together the most unhinged, secretly mentally insane team in the bureau. So certain, in fact, that you would put money on it if someone asked.

At times thought it was the only reason why he hired you; your mandatory psychological evaluations showed someone extremely well-adjusted, or rather someone who knew what others wanted to hear. Your best guess was that he had seen straight through the bullshit on your file and smiled to himself… another misfit to add to his collection.

But that didn’t mean he was wrong about it. The team had the highest rate of solved cases in the country and was considered one of the most elite units in the FBI. “The best profilers, sometimes, are the unsubs themselves,” Rossi had said to you during your first month on the team. All you could do was nod in response and subtly look around at the people you were surrounded by.

If that statement was true, it sure as hell made a lot of sense why you were all so good at your jobs.

There were times when someone on the team’s demons grew a little stronger, or their ghosts got a little louder. You’d already seen it happen with Morgan and Prentiss. JJ did a bit better hiding hers, but sometimes she fiddled with her necklace a little too much. Reid would repeat the words “I’m fine” a few too many times. Garcia would smile with her mouth, but not her eyes. There were days when Hotch’s firm expression faltered. Even Rossi had his moments.

The first time you’d fallen, Morgan warned you it was coming; the initial adrenaline of working the job wearing off, causing exhaustion to take over. “It hits most people around month nine,” he’d said. It didn’t hit you until month sixteen.

You picked yourself back up and since then, you’d been okay- learned to take care of yourself, to breathe, to be still. But life didn’t always make time for stillness, and you could feel yourself falling into the hole again. The demons at the bottom of the pit got more and more demanding, multiplying without ever feeding them a meal.

Or maybe it was just your stomach grumbling. You hadn’t eaten since your lunch break and it was nearly ten at night. Besides yourself, the bullpen was empty. To your knowledge, everyone had gone home hours ago. You should have too, but the more paperwork you finished the more quiet your head would be; the less people would notice how hungry your demons were.

“(Y/L/N),” Hotch’s voice caught your attention. You didn’t know he was still here- his office light was off, the door closed for the night. Yet, he stood just inside the glass doors of the BAU, looking a bit too much like a film noir character in the dim lights.

“Hey Hotch,” you greeted him like this was a usual encounter.

“What are you still doing here?” he asked, walking softly towards your desk.

“I could ask you the same question,” you smirked, trying to evade further questioning.

“I had to be on call with the head of the LA field office,” he said as he moved to sit on the edge of your desk. “You should have gone home hours ago.”

You shrugged. “I wanted to get some paperwork done.” The casualness of your tone and the way you sat back in your chair would have been enough to fool anyone else into thinking you were okay. Too bad you worked with a bunch of profilers.

“You know,” Hotch started. “The call I just got off of in LA was because they were trying to start a unit there to lighten our caseload.”

“I- I didn’t know that.” You wondered if the team would ever take cases on the west coast again, or if life would slow down from here on out.

Hotch sighed. “They’ve been trying for the last three years, but they couldn’t keep a consistent unit. Too many agents were coming in and burning out. They’re terminating the project.”

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say.

“This job, it isn’t easy,” Hotch’s tone softened. “Every person on the team knows what it’s like to struggle. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and all of us are here to help.”

You looked down at your fidgeting hands in an effort to avoid Hotch’s gaze, but you could still feel him watching you. When you finally worked up the courage to look at him, your eyes were glassy with tears.

“I’ve been having a hard time recently,” you admitted, voice shuttering in an effort to contain tears. “Just feeling things a little more than usual.”

Hotch looked from you to his closed up office and back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You mimicked his action, glancing to the room. “How much time do you have?”

Hotch was about to reply when your stomach let out a long growl. You looked down, smiling sheepishly. Your boss chuckled a bit. “Maybe we should get you some food first?”

You sighed, knowing you had to put something in your body but not knowing if you'd be able to keep anything down with your anxiety. “I think I'll just have some tea.”

Hotch handed you the key to his office, a sign to go make yourself comfortable in the space while he prepared your drink. “It's always tea time.”

[therealladylucifer]

Okay here's the thing. I've seen some people comparing Watcher to Dropout, but I don't think that's a good comparison. First of all, Dropout wasn't making Dropout shows for free on Youtube. Dropout was a platform intended for them to branch out and try new shows, which is how we got shows like Dimension 20 or Game Changer. They weren't already posting that stuff on Youtube. Dropout was an expansion, not a shift. Dropout also has a lot more people behind it, so they have a lot more shows. There's a difference between starting a streaming service to expand your brand and try new things and just taking all the stuff that you were doing for free on Youtube and putting it behind a paywall.

And for all the people saying that everyone on this site preaches compensating creatives until they have to do it, I get it. But some people can't afford six dollars a month. I certainly can't. And the thing is, no matter how beloved the content or how radical the audience, there are always gonna be some people who are upset that something that was previously free now costs money. That is how business works. And, with all the anti-capitalist stuff that Watcher has been preaching, it feels a little like a betrayal. I understand that this was something they needed to do to be profitable, but I don't know how well that's gonna work for them. A lot of their fanbase is young. I'd say a good chunk of them are probably minors who can't pay for any streaming services by themselves. I get that they need compensation, but I think business-wise, this is a poor strategic move. Still, I don't wish for them to fail. Good luck, Ghoul Boys. You'll need it.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Foxy Coltrane x Crazy!Reader || Headcanons

Topic: Foxy with an S/O who hates Otis.

Warnings: Hating on Otis, curses, threats, smuttiness (Specifically meaning talk of cum, penis, and um... volume+proximity to other people)... look, its Driftwood-Coltrane fanfiction. Its not gonna be clean.

For as long as you've known this family, which is pretty much as long as you've been friends with Foxy (He brought you home his next time visiting them. He said you're crazy and you'll fit right in- which you do XD )- you have h a t e d Otis.

He brushed you the wrong way immediately when one of the first things he said near you was putting Foxy down (Someone you really like. Someone you genuinely just click with. Someone who later becomes more then a friend). You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, I mean brothers do mess with each other right?

But goddamnit. The more you tried to look for a redeeming quality in this piece-of-crap man, the less you liked him. He was just gross. He's gross, and cranky, and god d a m n i t, those r a n t s. Just shut up! You're not as smart as you think! No one is listening to you. You're the boss of no one!

Anyway, so your stance on Otis has been pretty steady since the beginning. You god along great with everyone else, cuz like Foxy said you a r e crazy, so they loved you and they didn't put you off at all. You could even have a good time with them when Otis was there, you just didn't really interact with him.

As for Otis' own feelings... well, Otis doesn't like anyone (Except maybe Baby. And he clearly has a soft spot for Mama Firefly too otherwise he would never have come down to dinner in the first movie and brought... whoever was in that jar for her. I cant clearly hear the name.). So he pretty much disliked you from the beginning too. Took one look at you, rolled his eyes and moved on.

Foxy... is a big fan of your distaste for his brother honestly XD Like, you like him more??? Really??? Hell yes. He is fucken better.

And every time that you snap at Otis (Whether it be because he said something rude towards your favourite person, Foxy, or just cuz he was getting on your nerves by... you know... existing- ), Foxy just has this shit-eating grin on his face and he'll keep you safe if Otis decides to lash out and try to hurt you for it. He'll aim a loaded shot gun right at his brother and mean it. And Otis will see that he means it.

(Sure, he may not intend to actually kill Otis like you might enjoy, just wound him, but uh- being shot is gonna hurt like a bitch no matter where the wound is)

It turns him on, too. Like goddamn- the moment you grit your teeth and growl or even spit at Otis- Foxy feels himself getting as hard as rock. The first few times this happens, he doesn't both you about it. He's a grown man, he can handle this. And by 'handle this', i do not mean jerk off. I mean he'll just, sort of, adjust his jeans and live with it until he stops being turned on and it softens up again?? He ignores it, basically. Yes, he will have a yucky creamy mess in his underwear (Or? Just his jeans?? I don't know if these men would wear underwear. They stinky) but eh he can live it. He's gross, you must know this.

One day either you notice it (I mean how can you not? I bet you good money Foxy's pretty large, bigger than Otis and thats saying something, and that would create a thick indentation in his pants 😅😅😅), or Foxy draws your attention to it (Having decided that, yeah. He does wanna fuck his friend. Lets give this a try and see if you're into it), and welllllllllll~

That begins your more then friends thing with Foxy XD

And oh! Yes. You can bet your bottom dollar you are extra loud when Foxy's fucking you in the Firefly house. You dont give a fuck if most of the family hears, they don't care themselves (Mama Firefly is probably just like 'Oh good for sweet Winnie~ ^^ ~', Baby rolls her eyes like 'Ugh, i'm trynna watch a fricken movie here!', Spaulding is at work, Tiny figures someone's having a tantrum upstairs which is pretty standard, RJ just leaves like 'fuck this i'd rather be outside anyway', and Grandpa... 😂😂 sorry but Grandpa probably cheers you on- )- you just want Otis to know how good Foxy is in every single aspect. Its a low blow, but hell if you care?? Otis is a bastard.

Foxy thinks your craziness is amusing and adorable, and he's so chuffed that the one you're crazy for is him.

You're also super affectionate with Foxy when Otis is around. I mean, you're normally affectionate with Foxy (How could you not be?? Look at him! Tell me you don't wanna give him kisses and hug him) because he's great, but it definitely hits different when Otis' (self imposed) lonely ass is around to see it. No one wants worship him, do they?? Nope.

Like, you're all over him like some kind of obsessed love-struck freak (And, again, who could blame you? look at him-). Running your hands up his sides or over his chest (Dipping under his shirts sometimes), your lips on is jaw or giving him a very deep very obscene tongue-kiss, sitting sideways his lap so you can still see him and have intimate whisper-little talks with him (And kicking Otis if you're close enough 😅😅), sucking slow and wet hickeys into his neck while he watches his old movies, etc.

Again- Foxy does not mind at all 😂😅😅 He loves it actually. He doesn't move to stop you at all. In fact, if he brings Otis around you (Which he loves to do on purpose, because he loves to see how protective and loving you get about him when you see Otis with him) he will apologise. Like 'Sorry, sweetheart... couldn't get a sitter on such short notice. Its not my fault y'cant schedule your booty calls better, sweet thing... he'll jack off in the bushes or something.'.

You are totally willing to brawl with Otis if you it comes to it!! If he keeps insulting Foxy, or you, or just reach your limit- you have lunged at him before and Foxy has had to catch you, throw you over his shoulder and walk off like 'nope you, crazy pants, are the best fuck i've had in a while; you're not gettin' yourself killed that easy on my watch'.

Otis... Otis is not much more disturbed or pissed by your attitudes towards him then he is by everyone else's annoying little Things that he hates. He's not bothered, basically (Cuz uh, being annoyed and cranky are his default settings), and that pisses you off more.

... but hey. At least Foxy feels good ^^