#tos mayor

[givemerent]

Im bored trolololol

you guys SAW NOTHING.

guys i think he likes me too

[baby-chirp]

I get Mayor TT the one time I was not actively trying to scroll for Mayor TT lol.

Still managed to beat the timer and win this.

[syxnewt]

L would probably be really good at town of salem

[mukuharakazui]

next i should make a post about escorts

[foresthuntermajrach]

Forgor to share this here, oops.

Doc x vet, PTSD triggers, nasty happens (bjs babyyyyyy). Read tags before proceeding

[emotionalmotionsicknessxx]

So you want to see the 1988 Phantom of the Opera proshot at the New York Public Library...

If you know one thing about me on this internet it's that I love when things are spelled out and easy. This weekend my friends and I went to the New York Public Library (NYPL) Theatre on Film and Tape Archive (TOFT) located at Lincoln Center to watch the Phantom of the Opera proshot. I saw some how-tos and asked friends who have already seen it, but it was still a little confusing and I wanted to clarify how my experience went:

Bottom line: if you can make your way to NYC, you too can see the Phantom proshot from 1988 starring Michael Crawford, Sarah Brightman, and Steve Barton and lose your mind :)

Here's how I did it:

I showed up to the New York Public Library Library of the Performing Arts located at Lincoln Center with my two (2) also phanatical friends. We were vibrating. We went when the archive opened at noon. Hours can be found here.

We were directed to the third floor where the archive is. We had to check our bags (but were able to bring whatever in - I brought my phone, a pen, and a notebook for notes)

We met the sweetest librarian who was so helpful - he got us on computers to apply for NYPL library cards AND special collections cards. If you live in NY, you can get a regular NYPL card. If you are from out of town, they will give you a NYPL visitor card (good for 3 months!) We filled out applications you can find here and here if you are curious about the questions asked. Many questions are optional! Note: there was some scuttlebutt about needing to be a student or researcher or even an expert in the field - you don't need to say why you're there unless you want to! I kept it brief: said I was an independent researcher and there for personal interest. They are just happy people are using our libraries! Sign the letter here to stop the mayor from closing our libraries

Once we had our cards (NYPL Card AND a special collections card/number) we were told to head to the archive, where we met a second, lovely librarian who was excited we were there. You can ask for any show that isn't currently running (sorry Hadestown nation). You can find a list of what they have here. All titles available at TOFT begin with the call number NCOV, NCOX, or NCOW. Note: we did not make an appt ahead of time, and luckily no one was watching Phantom but our friend wanted to watch Great Comet and someone already had it. To avoid this, make an appt. To make an appointment, call (212) 870-1642 or email toft@nypl.org.

We signed off to use the archive and were off to the races! That's it! We were put on three monitors and I controlled the pausing and replaying of the tapes. You can replay as much as you want, and can even ask for other plays/musicals that you want to watch during your session there. I took notes in a notebook, I saw other people taking notes on their phone. There are cameras to make sure you aren't doing any recording or photo taking. Note that you can only see this proshot once without special permission, so if you want to come back you'll need to look into what that permission is.

If you're interested in what was actually IN the beautiful, spectacular, amazing, never before been done proshot (it's from May 25, 1988 by the way) listen to my/our podcast, Leroux Less Travelled!

My inbox is open if you have more questions! I hope this clarifies how easy it is if you're ever in NYC!! We will get through phantom-drought together :)

[robertreich]

The Hard Hat Riot: A Forgotten Flashpoint in America’s Culture Wars

Missing from most history books is a key moment leading to the culture wars now ripping through American politics.

In 1970, hundreds of construction workers pummeled around 1,000 student demonstrators in New York City — including two of my friends. The “Hard Hat Riot,” as it came to be known, ushered in an era of cynical fear-mongering aimed at dividing the nation.

The student demonstrators were protesting the Vietnam War and the deadly shooting of four student activists at Kent State University that occurred just days before.

The workers who attacked them carried American flags and chanted, “USA, All the way,” and ��America, love it or leave it.” They chased the students through the streets — attacking those who looked like hippies with their hard hats and steel-toed boots.

When my friends in the anti-war movement called to tell me about the riot later that day, I was stunned. Student activists and union workers duking it out in the streets over the war? I mean for goodness' sake, weren't we on the same side?

According to reports, the police did little to stop the mayhem. Some even egged on the thuggery. When a group of hardhats moved menacingly toward the action, a patrolman apparently shouted: “Give ’em hell, boys. Give ’em one for me!”

The construction workers then marched toward a barely-protected City Hall. Why? Because the mayor’s staff had lowered the American flag in honor of the Kent State dead. In a scene eerily foreshadowing the January 6th Capitol Riots, they pushed their way towards the building.

Fearing the mob would break in, city officials raised the flag.

The hard hats also ripped down the Red Cross banner that was hanging at nearby Trinity Church. They stormed a Pace University building, smashing lobby windows with their tools and beating students and professors.

Around 100 people were wounded that day, many of whom were college students. Several police officers were also hurt. Six people were reportedly arrested, but only one construction worker.

My friends escaped injury but they were traumatized.

The Hard Hat Riot had immediate political consequences. It was, in my opinion, a seminal  moment in America’s culture wars.

Then President Richard Nixon exploited the riot for political advantage. His administration had been working on a “blue collar strategy” to shift white working-class voters to the Republican Party.

“Thank God for the hard hats,” Nixon exclaimed when he heard about the riot.

But rather than passing pro-labor policies to court workers, which would go against the values of the pro-business Republican Party, Nixon sought to use cultural issues like patriotism and support for the troops to drive a wedge between factions of the Democratic Party.

Nixon invited union leaders, some of whom were involved in the riot, to the White House. They presented Nixon with a hard hat inscribed with “Commander in Chief”and an American flag pin. Nixon praised the union workers as, “people from Middle America who still have character, and guts, and a bit of patriotism.”

Nixon’s strategy to use the Hard Hat Riot to appeal to blue collar voters paid off. In his 1972 re-election campaign against the anti-war Democrat George McGovern, he secured a victory with ease and gained the majority of votes from organized labor – the only time in modern history a Republican presidential candidate accomplished such a feat.

The Hard Hat Riot revealed a deep fracture in the coalition of workers and progressives that FDR had knitted together in the 1930s, and the later alliance of Black Americans, liberals, and blue-collar whites that led to Lyndon Johnson’s landslide re-election in 1964.

The mostly white construction workers who attacked the demonstrators had felt abandoned — and forgotten – as the Civil Rights movement rightfully took hold. They felt stiffed by the clever college kids with draft deferments, and burdened by an economy no longer guaranteeing upward mobility.

The class and race based tensions that Nixon exploited would worsen over the next half century.

I witnessed this when I was secretary of labor during the Clinton Administration. I spent much of my time in the Midwest and other parts of the country where blue-collar workers felt abandoned in an economy dominated by Wall Street. I saw their anger and resentment. I heard their frustrations.

Many Democrats, whether they will admit it or not, have not done enough to respond as Republicans have destroyed unions, exacerbated economic inequality through trickle-down nonsense, tried to gut just about every social safety net we have – and stood in the way of practically every effort to use the power of government to help working people.

Today, the right is trying to channel that same anger and violence against the Black Lives Matter movement, the LGBTQ+ community, particularly drag queens and transgender people, and whatever they consider “woke.”

It is the same cynical ploy to instill a fear of “the other” as a means to distract from the oppression and looting being done by the oligarchs who dominate so much of our economy and our politics.

As such, today we face the same questions we faced in 1970:

Will we finally recognize that we have more in common with each other than those who seek to divide us for political and economic gain?

Can we unite in solidarity, and build a future in which prosperity is widely shared by all?

I truly believe that we still can.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

I miss your writing😂 I need me some weems, now idk if you’ll consider writing age regression ? Bc I have another idea if you do.

So r is depressed bc they ran out of medication and forgot to refill it since they’ve become ill (me rn it’s horrid and messing with my head) no one’s seen or heard from r and weems has to do a welfare check. Here she finds a depressed and very sick reader. She knows of readers bad back ground (they are a shifter and was found hanging onto life after being abused in a facility like hydra for shifters) so when r becomes all clingy and very child like it confessed weems. R is so touch starved it’s insane, but with weems rn she’s like a child wanting and craving the affection just needing to be held. So naturally weems does that and that’s how she discovers the fever r has and that r ran out of her meds so weems nurses her better. Oh! Could also add r isn’t sleeping bc of nightmares due to their background?

Sorry for the long request and I’m not even sure it makes sense. I need my Damn pills lmao.

🕯️

A little sick

Pairings: Weems x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: you're sick and regressed.

TW: agre? Sickness, depression, medicine (prescription),

A/n I’ve never written this kind of thing before so tell me if any of its wrong. Cute request tho :) let me know if you like it or want to see more of this kind of thing.

Part 2

Waking up and feeling like your bones were made of lead was not the way you wanted to start the day. It took all of your strength to pull yourself upright. Standing on shaky legs you wobble over to your dresser pulling out the pouch of pills that helped you with the aftermath of the facility and the depression it left. You knew firsthand how bad it could be to be a shapeshifter. Hunted and experimented on. You drew a deep breath pushing the thoughts away and exhaling slowly and shakily.

Unzipping the pouch, you frowned. All the blister packets were empty. You were out. You slouched dejectedly. It was going to be a long day. Yoko had already left for classes and to be honest you didn’t really think you could make it to the wardrobe to get changed let alone all the way to class. You sighed dejectedly and hobbled back to bed and laid down on your back staring at the roof. The feelings were getting harder to push away.

Your chest felt hollow, and you choked back a sob. The last time you were sick … was back there and to be honest you had no idea what would happen if someone found out here.

You zoned out feeling a familiar fuzzy feeling swallow your mind. You tried to push it away which only seemed to make you headache unbearable. The pain was what made you slip. Dropping hard, you felt your body shift. Soon the bed felt much bigger as you curled into a ball and cried. You were tired but scared to sleep, the nightmares seemed to be ever persistent.

You had no idea how long you had been crying, small sobs wracking the tiny body on the bed. Soon a knock sounded on the door.

Weems had had reports all day that you had been absent. Knowing your history with depression she knew it was imperative to do a welfare check as soon as she could. Looking at her calendar she swore. She had a copy if the nurses schedule for meds and prescription refills. Yours were out and it looked like nobody had picked up more for you.

She finally signed off the email she had spent the morning drafting to the mayor. Closing her laptop she toed on her heels, opting to take them off to give her feet a break when sitting and stood smoothing out her skirt. She hurried out the door and to your dorm. Hearing small noises inside she hesitated before knocking, she knew you were in there was was slightly terrified of what she would find inside the dorm.

Hearing the soft knock on the door you wiped a small fist over your eyes and sat up still silent tears running down your cheeks. You waited and heard the door open.

Weems peered into the dimly lit room; the windows still drawn. She saw a small lump on the bed and slowly walked over. The closer she got the more shocked she became. Why was there a toddler in the dorm and why did she look exactly like … y/n?

Small sad eyes looked up at her and sniffled. Weems stood awkwardly not really knowing what to do. She had a suspicion. She knew you were a shifter like herself. She looked down at you and it clicked. It made sense with the amount of trauma you had. You had regressed both physically and mentally to a child. Looking down at the sad child, you looked up at her and extended your arms.

“Up?” You asked with childlike innocence. Weems felt her heart melt. Gently she placed her hands under your arms and lifted you onto her hip. Almost straight away you buried your face in her neck, and she let out a soft gasp.

You were face too warm. Gently she peeled your face from her neck so she could look you in the eyes while she bounced you on her hip. You let out a soft whine at the loss of contact and weems shushed you as she placed a gentle hand against your cheek then forehead.

“Oh honey. Are you not feeling too good right now?” She asked. “Do you feel icky?” She said and you nodded and sniffled, the tears slowing.

“Alright. Well, we are going to get you some medicine then we are going to come back to my place for some sleep.” She said and you whined.

“No sleep.” You pouted and Weems frowned. “Cuddles?” You asked.

“Ok sweet girl you can have cuddles but why no sleep?” She asked.

“Mean dreams.” You pouted and she felt her heart break. Of course, you had bad dreams, that was almost assured with what you had been through. Why didn’t she think of that. Patting you back she used a hand to guide you back to her neck as you put your thumb in your mouth.

Weems winced knowing it probably wasn’t clean but there wasn’t much she could do about it right now and she preferred it to the crying. Holding you on her hip with one arm and the other on the back of your head she saw a small white fluffy thing under your blanket walking over and pulling out the stuffie you brightened as she tucked it between you and her chest as you wrapped you free arm around it.

“Alright honey let’s go get some medicine for you.” She said and left. She knew the school week enough to make sure nobody would see the two of you, God the rumours would be endless if students saw weems with a child. Careful to avoid any class windows Weems made it to the infirmary. As a shapeshifter herself she knew that the doses of medicine would need to match the physical size of the body. Balancing you on her hip she looked into your eyes.

“How old are you sweetheart?” She asked and you looked at her shyly holding up four fingers and puffing your chest out.

“Im four.” You grinned.

“Wow. Big girl huh?” She asked and you smiled wider.

Weems pulled out the bottle of medicine labeled 3-6 and any other supplies she would need. Carefully making her way back to her office she slipped back into her own quarters to take care of you.

You whined as she set you down on the couch but stopped as she lifted you back into her lap. You sure were clingy like this. Measuring out a dose of medicine Weems coaxed you into drinking it which made you stick your tongue out in disgust after.

“Yucky.” You said. Weems chuckled.

“Im sure it was sweet girl.” She said and stroked your hair. You buried your face in her chest and fisted your hands in her shirt.

“Alright bedtime. I think someone needs a nap huh?” She said and you whined.

“Nooo.” You said.

“Alright how about some cuddles instead?” Weems asked and you smiled.

“Cuddles?”

“Yes. Cuddles.”

“Yay cuddles.” You celebrated.

“Alright sweet thing lets go to my bedroom and we can cuddle.” She said knowing you would fall asleep in no time. Curling into her chest more and wrapping you small arms around Weems she felt her heart melt again as she ran her nails up and down your spine. You shivered and enjoyed the touch.

After a few minutes you seemed to be fighting sleep, eyes drooping before flying wide open again with a small whimper.

“Honey whats the matter? Why won’t you sleep love?” Weems asked softly.

“Bad dreams.” You whimpered softly and weems patted your back running her hands through your short hair. It was much shorter than normal probably from the shift.

“Honey, you need to sleep, I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave your side, ok? Do you think you could be a brave girl and get some sleep for me?” She asked softly.

Burrowing your face into her neck you nodded and shuffled around to get comfy. Weems knew either way based off how exhausted you seemed you would be asleep soon regards of what you wanted.

And as predicted after about five more minutes weems felt your breath even out against her chest and heard small snores coming from you. She smiled softly down at you and decided then and there she would never let anything hurt you again.

MASTERLIST

[kissorkill16]

Sly As A Raven: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Enzo investigates the Town Hall.

As Enzo slowly tip toed down the hall of Mayor Tavish's large mansion, he overheard voices coming from the living room.

"Come on now.", said the mayor. "Do you really believe that a bunch of children are capable of interfering with our plans?"

"Yes, I do.", said a gravely voice. "They may just be children to the naked eye, but I see right through them. They're smarter than we think. So you should really watch your back."

Enzo covered his mouth in fear. They're talking about them. They're talking about the group. They were smarter than they looked.

If he weren't so petrified right now, he would've taken that as a compliment.

The mayor sighed, "Alright, fine.", he said. "I'll keep an eye out. But I can assure you that these children may be terrifyingly intelligent for their ages, but they're still dumb little children like you said."

"Dumb little children?!", Enzo felt insulted. "And you just said we were smarter than we looked."

He peeked into the living room, and saw that the mayor was dancing to an old jazz record.

"That should keep him busy for a while.", thought Enzo. And with that, he slowly walked away from the living room, and creeped into the lobby.

He looked all around the large room, but he didn't really find anything that might lead to the identity of Crowface. He didn't know why he thought the mayor of all people would be the raven man, maybe he just wanted to find proof better than "Oh he gave me a B+ on my last assignment!"

...Or maybe because there was a feather sticking out of the wardrobe in the far corner.

He walked to the wardrobe, opened the door, and saw a soft, black, feathered cloak. Next to it was a white beaked mask.

"Crowface doesn't dress like this.", thought Enzo. "Trinity told me he had a long, yellow, dirty beak. And his cloak didn't have feathers."

Whether or not this was the right costume, he pulled from his pocket a camera he got for his birthday last year. He snapped a couple of photos, but panicked when he heard footsteps come into the lobby.

"What is that noise?", asked Mayor Tavish as he walked into the room. "Who the hell is taking pictures in my house? You're interrupting my music!"

As the mayor walked into the lobby, he didn't find anyone. The lobby was completely empty.

He walked towards the wardrobe, and opened it slowly, then quickly. No one was in there.

"Hm.", hummed the mayor. "Must've been my imagination.", he said. He walked back to the living room and turned his music back on.

Meanwhile, Enzo slowly crawled out from under the lobby couch, and tip toed out of the room, out of the house and into the lawn.

Enzo pulled out his walkie talkie, "Trinity, hey. It's me, Enzo. I didn't find any clues to Crowface's identity in the Town Hall, but I found a cloak. It's nothing like you described, but I think the mayor might be one of his accomplices."

No answer. Just static.

Just then, Enzo felt something grab his leg, making him fall to the ground and drop his walkie talkie. When he looked to see what grabbed him, he let out a loud scream.

Crowface.

[nv-archives]

I've been thinking about creating an interactive comic involving Town of Salem (also because I want to rekindle my passion and bring more content to the first game).

Here's the blog so far

Again, I can't promise that this is going to be fruitful, especially since this is a solo project (I can always try and find people to collaborate with, though that's also not a guarantee).

Feel free to read more if this catches your eye!

About a year ago, I had an idea where I get 14 people to collaborate on a project where I simulate a ToS story (the 15th being the rest of the community). Obviously, I didn't go through with this plan because trying to gather 14 people for this was absurd.

Then, I remembered this idea again and decided to take on a different approach.

InTo(the)Salemulation is... well, a simulation of a Town of Salem game, but it will take the form of a comic with a storyline that is impacted by the choices you make. Do note that:

If you die, there is no going back, and the game will be archived.

The same goes for the decisions you make. It will never be acknowledged until the game is over.

The characters are different in every storyline. Some traits and personalities might get reused, but a character will never appear again in a different one (only as a cameo, a mention, or a passing thought).

Other characters also make decisions, but it's purely RNG and never my own. I will only make it so that they have a logical/in-character reasoning (for example, I wouldn't make a vigilante shoot a revealed mayor), but I will never rig anything else even if it makes the story interesting.

If this looks like something you're interested in coming to fruition, let me know so that I know there will be an audience for it. I don't want this project go live only to be met with crickets. That'd be embarrassing.

Also, a few more things:

I am willing to adopt OCs (with credit ofc, and hey, you get free art too :P)

If you want to collaborate, and idk why, but feel free to DM me all the same

Psst my art commissions are open :3

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

Little Hargrove

Billy Hargrove x F!Reader

Summery: After seeing you with Nancy’s and Steve’s baby it’s all Billy can think about, now it’s only a matter of convincing you.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI) cussing, mentions of babies, pregnancy, unprotected sex, p in v, cream pie, oral (f receiving), pet names used, the name daddy and mama used. I think that’s it but let me know if I miss anything.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

If Billy had to narrow it down to one moment, one instance when the realization hit him like a truck, it would of been when you held that small bundle of pink cotton blankets and wispy black hair.

Nancy and Steve just had their little girl and you were more than excited to hold the fragile little thing. It came naturally to you as Billy watched, his heart beating so hard he was afraid his ribs would be bruised; you cradled her little head, cooing softly at the small grunts the baby made.

“Oh Nance… she is so beautiful.” You had whispered, babbling at the baby as you rocked her, the smile on your face like none he’d ever seen before. And when your bright eyes reached his he knew he was a goner.

That had to be the moment, it had to of been when he realized he wanted a baby with you.

~*~*~*

Billy toed the door to the apartment closed, the smell of dinner pelting him and making his stomach grumble. Peaking around the hall corner he watches you, busy in your element as you hummed swaying your hips to whatever music is in your head.

“Hey, doll face.” Billy steps up behind you, slipping his arms around your waist and crushing you to his chest in a tight hug making you squeal and gasp.

“Hey yourself.” You laugh, swatting his arms with your wooden spoon before opening the lid to the stew you’ve been working on. “Dinner is ready, I’m waiting on the oven to warm up for the rolls though.”

“Sounds good.” Dropping into a kitchen chair Billy spreads out his long legs, relaxing for what felt like the first time today. “Come here.”

You glance over your should with a smile, taking in your fiancé before sauntering over, the over sized t-shirt you’re wearing hanging off one shoulder as you straddle his lap, arms wrapping around his neck.

Billy smiles, hands on your hips situating you how he wants. “There’s my girl… so beautiful.” His blue eyes search your face, watching the light dust of pink coat your cheeks. No matter how many compliments he has given you over the many years of your relationship you still blush like a school girl, giddy at the remarks.

“I missed you today.” You whisper, leaning in and brushing your lips against his, melting into the small kiss as his hands rub up and down your sides.

“Missed you too. You won’t believe who I ran into.”

“Mmmm… the president?” Billy scoffs and rolls his eyes. “No… smaller. The mayor.” You feign shock, hand resting on your chest as you pull back and Billy barks a laugh.

“Jesus woman you are intolerable. I ran into Steve, he had Olivia with him.”

Your face lights up, your smile crinkling your eyes. “Awww that’s awesome. She’s getting so big I can hardly believe she’s going to be a year old!”

Billy hums in agreement, rubbing your hips slowly. “Yeah we talked for a little bit, he was outside the little pizza shop in town while Nancy was ordering. Y’know cuz she’s picky.” You laugh nodding along.

“That she is.”

“But… kinda got me thinking about some things.” Billy’s eyes travel down your body, staring at his hands on your hips, thumbs working soft circles into your skin. You shift slightly, feeling his mood change and your heart picks up a little, anticipation setting into your bones.

“Oh…” Humming softly Billy rests his hand on your abdomen, splaying his long fingers. You let out a nervous laugh, grabbing his wrist and pushing his hand away. Bright blue eyes shoot to yours and your mouth goes dry. Billy looks ready to eat you alive, his pupils blown wide, lust etched into his features. “Y-you’re not serious, are you?”

“And what if I am?” He drags you up his lap, the hard bulge in his pants pressing into your pantie covered mound making you gasp. Arousal shooting up your spine. “It’s all I can think about… thinking about just how pretty you’d look, big and round with my baby inside you. Letting everyone know just who you belong to.”

His tongue darts out, sweeping over his lower lip and you follow the movement. “A… A baby is a lot Billy… It is hard work and there’s so much we have to do. We’re still in an apartment…”

Billy nods, watching the pink staining your cheeks turn beetroot, your hands moving animatedly as you continue to list off all the things people supposedly need for babies. Excuse after excuse flying from your lips.

Dipping his fingers under your shirt he smooths his hand over your stomach, bringing you back to him and silencing your rambling. “Billy…”

“All I know is that when I look at you, I see the woman I want to have a family with, a woman who has given her all to a man who is a grumbling asshole and still loves him everyday.” Tears prick your eyes, one hand resting on his shoulder as the other gingerly touches the hand on your stomach. “I love you, and I want to have a baby with you. We have all the love in the world, a few grand in the bank, we can do this.”

“B-but we aren’t even married yet… we’ve only been engaged a year.” Your voice wobbles, “What will people say?”

“Let them talk, what does it matter? It’s you and me remember?” Billy leans up, brushing his lips across your own, eyes hooded as he scans your face. He can see your resolve breaking, from the way your hand tightness over his to how your breathing has become more shallow.

“You and me.” You repeat, breathing becoming hard as your nose bumps against his. The air is tense and thick, staring into each others eyes when suddenly the ding of the oven startles you. “T-the rolls… dinner.”

Billy’s hips press up into yours making your breath hitch, eyes fluttering closed. “Screw the rolls. Let me make you a mama.”

Something in your stomach ignites at the words and you slam your mouth into his. Tongue, teeth, and lips clashing as Billy gathers you into him and stands, carrying you blindly to the bedroom.

You land on the bed with a gasp, looking up at your fiancé who stares at you with a predatory grin. Your breathing constricts, the weight of your decision sinking in your gut as Billy peals his shirt off revealing his broad chest and softer stomach.

“Hey.” Your eyes shoot to his as he pops the button on his jeans and crawls on the bed between your thighs. “You’re thinking to much.” Billy reaches out, pulling your lip from between your teeth where you unconsciously were chewing the pink skin.

“I’m a little scared.” You admit even as your breath picks up from the feeling of his hands sliding under your shirt to hook his fingers into your panties.

Billy pulls your underwear down easily, your body limp under his heavy gaze. “If you need me to stop, say the word sweet girl… but…” He leans down, planting a soft kiss on your bare pussy making you jolt, hips rising off the bed. Chuckling Billy nuzzles into you, swiping his tongue over your pussy a few times before lifting his head. “But just know… daddy will always take good care of you.”

Your stomach flips, brain going fuzzy at his words and he can see it on your face, how your eyes blow out, the flair in your nostrils. “You’d like that wouldn’t you baby? Want daddy to take good care of you?” You nod, hips grinding down against the mattress, searching for more friction. For more of him.

Billy kisses your stomach, long and soft taking your breath away and melting you into the mattress, before he lays flat on the bed. Thick arms wrap around your thighs from below, trapping you to him as he dips his head, sucking your aching clit into his mouth.

Tossing your head back you moan brokenly, fisting the sheets and squeezing your eyes shut. After years of being together Billy knows just how you like it, just where to poke, and prod, how hard and fast or slow and easy to go depending on the sounds you make.

Even now, as he his tongue slowly lavas your cunt from entrance to clit he chuckles, your whinny little noises increasing as you squirm in his hold. “Billy… fuck please…” You gasp, skin flushing with heat as your walls flutter around nothing, the feeling of being so empty suddenly to much.

“Tell me what you need, baby.” Billy mumbles, muffled slightly as he continues to devour you, fingers leaving indents in your soft thighs.

Your chest feels tight, skin so hot you feel on fire as the words you so desperately want to say stick in your throat. Instead you opt for carding your fingers through his sandy locks and tugging, the slight sting in his scalp making him hiss and look up.

“No, use your words. Tells daddy what you want, otherwise you aren’t going to get it.” Tears brim your eyes as you finally look down your body at him. His expression is serious, yet warm and loving.

This dynamic wasn’t new to either of you, your vocalization always being very important to Billy, but you suddenly felt shy and uncertain, like the first time the two of you ever had sex. What you wanted to ask for would change everything.

“I… I want you Billy.” Your breathy and uneven, gripping the blankets so hard your fingers start to turn numb.

“You’ve got me baby.” He smiles, his chin glistening with your arousal making your stomach clench.

“N-no… I… I want you in me… I… need you.” You mumble out.

Billy makes a mock expression of surprise, your face heating. “Oooh you want me? Like this?” Two fingers trace your opening slipping in easily and curling right where he knows has you coming undone.

You mewl softly, frustration slamming into you even as you drop your head back to the pillows. Billy works you slowly, his smile mean as he teases and pushes you to say exactly what you want. Knowing otherwise you won’t voice it.

You moan, cantering your hips to ease his thick fingers deeper. “I…” You swallow thickly, resolve breaking further as you rut into his hand. “I need you to fuck me. Please, please fuck me Billy.”

And like that his hands disappear, the soft thud of his jeans and boxers hitting the floor before he’s back over you capturing your lips in a heated, demanding kiss. The angry red tip of his cock brushes over your wet slit and you whine into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist as your hands find his shoulders.

“So needy for me.” Billy chuckles, prepping himself up on one arm as he reaches between the two of you to hide his cock into your cunt. You hold your breath, relishing in the feeling of him stretching you, stuffing you full with gentle thrusts.

It feels so much better with nothing in between your slick walls and his hard cock, Billy’s head falls forward moaning loudly when he’s fully seated inside you. “Fuck… fuck feel so good, such a tight little pussy.” Billy rocks back and forth, giving you shallow thrusts.

“Ah… more… please.” You beg, hips meeting his as you match his slow rhythm.

Billy smiles, lopsided and pussy drunk as he watches your face contort with pleasure. “Yeah? You want more? So greedy for my cum aren’t you baby?” You gasp as he punctuates his words with a hard thrust, jaw slackening and lips curling in euphoria as his pace picks up.

“Yesyesyesyesyes…” You pant, your orgasm building quickly with the added fire of his words. “Don’t stop… please don’t stop.”

Billy is more than happy to comply, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles to draw you closer. “M gonna cum in you, gonna fill you up until you’re dripping… Gonna look so pretty pregnant.” He’s babbling much like you are, his orgasm to close but he needs to feel you clench around him, he needs to see you come undone first.

“P-please… please cum in me… want you to.” Tears are spilling over your checks, and the band in your stomach snaps with a low growl from Billy’s throat. You cry out, back arching, nails digging into his shoulders. Your cunt clenches his cock, milking his orgasm from him with a string of cuss words. Billy stills, rutting against you as he explodes, thick cum coating your walls and warming you.

Gasping you open your eyes, piecing blue crashing with yours. Your body beings to shake with your come down, reality flooding you. “I love you.” You blurt, fresh tears springing to your eyes.

“I love you, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He whispers, peppering your face and neck with kisses.

“I know… it’s just overwhelming.” You whisper back, leaning up into each kiss. “I’m happy, I promise, I’m scared but so happy.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Six weeks was all it took before you saw the two blue lines on your pregnancy test. You’d rush into the living room, tears flowing down your cheeks as you crash into Billy’s chest, the man bewildered and anxiety straining his voice as he asks you what’s wrong over and over before he manages to push you at arms length.

“I’m pregnant!” You squeal in delight, his eye widen and he scoops you into his arms, spinning you around with a triumphant laugh. Unshed tears line his eyes as he places you on your feet, cupping the side of your face and gazing down at you with more love and affection than ever before.

“I’m going to be a dad.”

[moldycalico]

omg shoutout to this old ass trump assassination tos meme i did on a paper and then the teacher collected☠️☠️ i just remembered its existence

i should do that trump pose with mayor and bodyguards itd be so funny

the og pic:

[fleckcmscott]

Bountiful

Summary: As autumn leaves fall, Y/N and Arthur reflect on how much they have to be thankful for.

Words: 3,643

Warnings: None

A/N: Though Thanksgiving is alluded to in Backward, Forward - Part 2, this is the first piece I've written featuring the holiday. I hope you all like it! 😃 Lots of love and appreciation for @sweet-nothings04 for beta reading! And a happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate! 🦃

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

The door flew open at the exact moment Y/N turned the key.

All teeth and boundless glee, Arthur's handsome grin greeted her. "Hello, Mrs. Fleck." A thorough kiss when he grabbed her hand to pull her inside. "Come here."

Intrigue arching her eyebrow, she followed on eager feet. Toed off her heels at the kitchen partition, dropped her tote bag by the floor lamp, lost her purse somewhere behind the sofa. The sleeve of her speckled wool coat hung at her wrist, a captive of his firm grip.

He took a seat at his desk. Four bills were piled to the left, a torn open cardboard mailer to the right. He gestured towards the mailer. "Look what came today."

She wriggled free and picked it up. Skimmed Gotham Bank's return address and dumped out the contents: a vinyl checkbook and four check booklets. The source of his excitement stood nonchalantly in the upper left corner.

She traced the italicized letters. Arthur & Y/N Fleck. "Our names go well together."

"We go well together." He swept her onto his lap, pecked a line from her lips to her temple. Shifting forward, he snagged the checkbook and a ballpoint pen. "I wanna make out the first one." She studied the subtle movements of his hand as he printed "City of Gotham - Sewer" on the payee line. His strokes were slower than usual, the serifs neater, as if writing a sacred declaration instead of paying for flushes.

Delight flitted through her, light as a feather.

He'd been buzzing since their trip to Niagara, and she'd found herself buzzing right along with him. At the office, she'd blurred between drafting motions, reading complaints, and offering sanitized answers to suggestive questions about their romantic weekend. He'd pinned two postcards featuring the falls to the room divider at his desk, stuck their corny Honeymooning portrait on his vanity. The props from Houdini Magic Shop went straight into his plaid bag.

In bed last night, he'd squeezed her hand and said he wanted the honeymoon to last forever. That with her, he was sure it would.

She'd swallowed the thickness in her throat and squeezed back.

The telephone rang the second he finished the k on the signature line. When she moved to stand, he picked her up and plopped her on the chair. Pecked her forehead and took off for the kitchen.

Once he'd rounded the corner, she turned back to his desk with a smile. She ran her palms along the worn maple, feeling like the recipient of an exclusive invitation. Nosey fingers itched to open the drawers, her thumb dangling dangerously close a pull handle. Knowing all there was to know about Arthur, learning his innermost thoughts by heart was an ever-present longing. What would be the harm in seeing if the drawers were locked?

Get a grip, Y/N. He's your husband, not a case.

Rolling her eyes, she tore the check from the booklet and stuffed it in its envelope.

His dusty baritone caught her ear. "No, it's okay. I just got back from my honeymoon." An extra emphasis on the last syllable to make it stick. "Thanksgiving? Well, maybe that Wednesday. Let me check my calen..."

Words went to fuzz as the whole of her attention turned inward.

The last three weeks had been wonderous, if overflowing. With the burst of getting hitched; Halloween with its pleasures and poignancy; the mayoral election and Thomas Wayne's dastardly win; Niagara Falls; and Arthur's upcoming birthday (for which she'd pull in a favor from Patricia), Thanksgiving hadn't been on the furthest recesses of her mind.

Family had filled her past, get-togethers that'd inspire Norman Rockwell to paint a new Saturday Evening Post. Visits from her grandparents, her mother's older sister and husband, who'd stolen Y/N's nose until she was twelve and always carried a flask. A televised parade from some faraway place called Gotham, construction paper headdresses and pilgrim bonnets. Her mother's cornbread dressing and butterscotch pie. Rowdy older cousins spilling gravy and running around the kids' table. And, when it all became a little too much, slipping her hand in Mabel's and slipping onto the porch. Imperfect but wonderful with love at its core.

The click of the receiver cut through the sunny recollection, a rarity she'd uncovered thanks to Arthur. A lightness she feared would shift to shadow, given its Ever After.

"That was the children's clinic," Arthur called as he crossed the living room. "The activity coordinator's out. They want to hire me for Thanksgiving, the Wednesday before."

"That's your third job there, right?" she asked "They're going to have to keep you on retainer."

"She said they had crafts, but- I dunno what a clown's supposed to do." He shrugged, huffed a chuckle through his nose. "Gobble, gobble?"

"They already have a plan. That'll make it easy. Just be yourself. You can't go wrong there. Which reminds me..." Y/N swiveled to fully face him. Away from the There and Then, to the Here and Now. "What do you want to do for Thanksgiving?"

Dimples dappled his cheeks. "It's been a long time since I've done anything." He said it in a manner she took to mean never, and her breastbone became a dull ache. He crouched to retrieve her purse from the floor. "What did you always do? You and your family?" It was one of the handful of occasions he'd asked about them directly. "We can do that."

"No," she said, a bit too fast. His black brow raised a fraction. She knelt next to him and gathered her coat. Smoothed it over her lap. Consciously softened her voice but still pushed back. "We should start something ourselves. Make our own history."

The glow of nostalgia illuminated his green eyes. "Make it about us." He tugged at the lapel of her blazer, drew her in for a kiss. A damp press of his mouth with no teeth or tongue.

She sank into his solid frame, a haven from what she couldn't yet mend. "We'll just have to figure out what to do with the leftovers."

~~~~~

In the sunniest section of the common room, Arthur took a brown crayon from Timothy, a boy with a bandaged head and right arm in a cast, the aftermath of a car failing to yield at a crosswalk. "Here, I can do it," Arthur offered. Timothy splayed his hand on the horseshoe shaped table.

Arthur traced around his palm, each finger, his skinny thumb. "That's good," he said, reaching for a shoebox of felt cutouts. "What color feathers do you think he has?"

Arts and crafts were not a part of Carnival's repertoire. A magic wand and a record player were a more comfortable fit, a twirl and a stomp to top off a silly dance. But he and a couple of candy stripers had spent the afternoon helping patients choose between handprint turkeys and leaf friends, replete with googly eyes. And he found the more he offered assistance, the easier it was to discern when it was appropriate. To make their Thanksgiving better than his own.

In the Before Y/N period, a holiday to celebrate plenty had been as inaccessible as full cupboards and a full heart. How could there be freedom from want, when he'd wanted his entire life?

School had been a morose monotony, but the week of Thanksgiving break had meant missed meals. The roar of his stomach and embarrassed, stifling laughter had annoyed enough to earn a free lunch tray whenever there were leftovers. Two or three times a week. Far from prying eyes and piercing words, he'd sat in an empty classroom and munched on dry chicken and bouillon flavored rice. Saved his chocolate pudding tin for dinner in case Penny had forgotten groceries again.

After dropping out of high school to work, holiday shifts had been his bread and butter. People lost a bit of their edge, he got time-and-a-half, and it was less painful to be around those who didn't know him than the mother who never would. Dishwashing at the Logerquist Hotel came with the perk of smoking away and swaying to a live jazz band between loads.

Then there was the Thanksgiving he'd spent in Arkham.

A four-year-old's disappointment from the right. "I dropped it."

Red and blue rubber shoes slid along polka-dotted vinyl. Arthur made a show of retrieving the paste stick from under the table. Presented it to April with the IV with a bow. Without bills to pay, her giggle and body scrunching with glee would be the only hourly he'd need.

"Excuse me, Mr. Fleck?"

He straightened and turned towards the nursing station in the back corner. A crucifix hung on the wall next to the L-shaped counter, and beside it an icon of the clinic's namesake Saint Philomena, arrows and anchor firmly in her grasp. An unfamiliar face stepped out from behind the station, a woman with a shock of brunette corkscrew curls.

She stuck out her hand. "I'm Concetta, the woman who called. I'm lucky I found your card on Holly's desk. Thank you for squeezing us in on such short notice. I was wondering if you might have a slot open for Christmas."

It hadn't been short notice, and he hadn't booked anything for Christmas, but he didn't have to tell her that. He attempted a confident handshake - and succeeded. "Um, yeah. I should have one. Did you want to put me on retainer?"

She was kind enough ignore the left-footed use of the term. "Let's start with Christmas, first. Holly'll be back by then. It'll be a nice surprise for the children and their parents. Let me give you my card and we can iron out the details." She plucked it from her pocket without pause. "I'm out tomorrow but feel free to leave me a message once you've checked your schedule."

He gripped the card between thumb and forefinger, but it took three seconds for him to take it. Assurance swirled and spiraled upwards into an appreciative nod. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome. Congratulations on getting married, by the way. Do you and your wife have big plans tomorrow?"

Entire face creasing into a smile, he answered, "Well, her family's in Missouri, so just dinner at our place. I'm- I'm really looking forward to it."

And, if luck continued to shine on him, Part Two of the conversation started on Halloween night. A chance to follow all the breadcrumbs she'd strewn about her earlier years - before she could sweep them away and erase the trail. To prove she could mend with him, the way so much of himself continued to with her.

~~~~~

By the time Y/N turned on the TV, the Killinger's Thanksgiving Day Parade was getting underway. Special Presentation on NCB, led by Gotham City's Police Department's Highway Patrol, hosted by Murray Franklin and sidekick Barry O'Donnell.

Pursing her lips, she debating changing the channel. Having this on in the background was a rare childhood tradition Arthur and she shared. She wasn't going to let Franklin's smarmy smirk and O'Donnell's desperate laugh-alongs sully that.

She twisted the volume dial. The cries of bugles hushed to whimpers and the roars of hosts became murmurs.

When she padded into the kitchen for another cup of coffee, Arthur was leaning on the counter with both hands, a book open on the Formica, concentration deepening his crowsfeet. Freed from its netting, the Lil' Butterball lounged in an aluminum roasting pan in the sink. She'd suggested chicken, but he'd insisted on turkey, and with this being his first real Thanksgiving, she hadn't argued.

His lips moved as he read, pointer finger tracking each word. She filled her mug, glanced at the cookbook, the yellowed photograph of a roasted turkey surrounded by pale parsley and wrinkly tomatoes. A nervous palm rubbed the nape of his neck.

She wrapped an arm about his middle, planted a kiss between his shoulder blades. Disheveled curls caressed her cheek. She rubbed a soothing circle on his taut stomach, through his thermal shirt. "Did you find a recipe you like better?" she asked.

Adopting an uneven slouch, he brought her to his side. "This says to put oil on the skin, but this-" he pointed to another paragraph "-says to use shortening. I don't know what that is. I bought this the other day." He reached for a nondescript plastic baggy that smelled of rosemary, oregano and sage. "But there are no directions. Do we put it in the turkey or what?"

Fingers fidgeting in a way they never did when they held a cigarette, he pushed out a breath. "I haven't cooked one before."

"Neither have I," she said. "My mother did all the cooking. And Jeff and I alternated between his parents and mine. The most I did was bring a pumpkin pie."

"You made pie?"

"'Made' is too much credit. I used store bought crust and canned filling." She nudged him in the ribs and offered her coffee, which his fidgety fingers gladly accepted. He added two more sugars as she continued. "If we try to make this perfect, we're going to drive ourselves crazy."

She skimmed the recipe, reviewed the roasting table, and set the oven to 325 degrees. "Rub the seasoning under the skin, and I'll brush the margarine on."

Four hours later, she could barely see the table for all the food.

Roasted turkey, golden with a buttery crisp. Green bean casserole in eight-by-eight Corningware. Arthur was skeptical of the sweet potatoes topped with marshmallows, but she was certain it was a combination his sweet tooth would cheer. Confusion narrowed his eyes whenever she referred to StoveTop as dressing. Laughing at herself, she shook her head. ("You call it stuffing up here.") Brown 'n serve rolls baked in the oven for twelve minutes. A tube of jellied cranberry sauce slid out of the can with a satisfying plop.

Offering a Hamilton Beach electric knife (a steal at Donahue's for $21.99), she asked him to carve the turkey. His glistening gaze and closed mouth grin sent jumbles through her middle.

He'd said he'd been the man of the house for as long as he could remember. Pearled the grit of taking care of Penny into gems. Polished the story of a trapped adolescence into something he could, should be proud of.

But now he was the man of their house. Pearling was no longer needed, polishing no longer necessary, because a life lived with Y/N was what he'd chosen. What they'd chosen A certain kind of light that shined on them both,

Arthur rubbed the tops of his thighs. "There's so much. I'm not sure where to start." After a moment, he scooped a spoonful of the potato casserole. Tested the mash of marshmallow and sugary starch with a cautious nibble. A hum of pleasure behind smacking lips. "This is good."

"Let me see." She stole a forkful from his plate. The cozy warmth of cinnamon and nutmeg melted on her taste buds. Her sigh was equal parts satisfaction and relief. "It's always hit or miss when I try my mother's recipes."

"Well, this one's a hit." He paused. "What else did your mom make?"

"Just the usual," she said with a dismissive wave. She snagged a roll and ripped it in two. Steam rose from the dough in hot waves.

A knife clinked against ceramic, jarred gravy cascaded over turkey. He sampled the green bean casserole and said nothing. Dug into the StoveTop and said nothing. Sipped coffee and said nothing.

Her cheeks turned to coals, a sudden flush of shame. An unwelcome echo of Halloween. How could she have given this man her whole heart, then shut down his loving inquiry like she was shutting a barricade? As if he was the one who'd erred instead of her? It wasn't as if she didn't get what he was feeling. Only a couple weeks ago, she'd had to stop herself from shuffling through his drawers.

Contrition rose in her throat. She cleared it, offered a small smile of apology, and started over again.

"She made cornbread dressing - stuffing - with buttermilk, eggs, celery... Everybody loved it. She made enough batches to send home with everyone. Even the years Jeff and I were with his family, she'd come over the next day with a big pot."

She smeared margarine on her roll. "My sister has that recipe."

"Maybe she'd send us a copy?" Arthur said.

"I'll ask when I call tonight."

"It's nice to hear you talk about your family."

Her shoulders drew together. "I know."

Two more chews and he sliced into the cranberry sauce with the side of his fork. "I was in the hospital one year. For Thanksgiving. There were visitors from a local church or parish or whatever. They served turkey dinners and ate with us, like we were normal people." He took the jiggly jelly off the tines with his teeth. "There were Looney Tunes on the TV - Arkham plays cartoons all the time. We didn't talk a lot, but I liked it. It was nice not to have to cook for my mother and be alone."

Alone but with his mother. Alone but with her father. Two by two they'd marched through their days to make their way to each other. To sit at this table. To be brave enough to share themselves.

When it came to matters of the heart, Arthur's courage was far greater than hers. Of that there was no doubt. Perhaps one day she'd crack open the barricade enough to match it.

Reaching out to clutch his hand, she promised herself she'd try.

The start of a smile tipped the corners of his mouth. He clutched back.

~~~~~

A little girl's excited squeal resounded through Gotham Park, riding the breeze through winding trees. The afternoon sunset cast long shadows across meadows and rippled along Crown Reservoir. Couples strolled curved walkways, impromptu snack stands lined parkways, selling cocoa and pretzels and crepes. An elderly man, toothless and in a fraying baseball cap, sat on an iron bench, laughing as he fed the ducks at his feet.

Gait easy, casual, utterly natural, Arthur put his arm around Y/N's shoulders. When he'd worked the seasonal carnivals, fall foliage's showy scarlets and honied ambers had been a seldom source of beauty. A background to his daydreams while he'd eaten fried dough on his break. He'd wanted to show it to her for awhile, make those dreams come true.

Most leaves littered the ground now, releasing a musky sweetness as they crunched under their feet. But a few still clung to the uppermost branches, huddled together as if trying to keep warm.

A rustic arch bridge spanned the narrowest part of the reservoir, an antique made of stones dredged during the body of water's construction in 1893. As they reached its crest, he nodded towards pine oaks reaching across the water, akin to lovers stretching to meet. Pointed at crimson sugar maples contrasting against clear, blue sky. Admired clusters of eastern white pines, nature's answer to skyscrapers.

"The fall in Boonville is prettiest in November," Y/N said. "Everything peaks about a month later than here. The honey locusts - those don't grow this far north - turn as yellow as the sun."

"Oh." He shoved his hand in his pocket. He'd assumed autumn's prism made his home special.

She stepped out of his embrace. Crossed her arms on the stone parapet. "But there's a catch. They have thorns - longer than my hand. If you're not careful, they'll tear your dress."

That struck him as too specific to be offhand. Going to her side, he jumped at the chance to follow that breadcrumb. "Did that happen to you?"

"Mabel and I were playing hide and seek. I ruined my skirt, and she got nineteen stitches. We tried to avoid them after that. But they kept spreading and spreading and after a few years thorns were everywhere." A hitch brittled the last word.

She plucked a fiery oak leaf from the parapet, mottled with brown flecks. "My father used to go around the table and ask us to name one thing we were thankful for. It had to be different every year."

"That'll certainly be easy now that you're here." He studied the gold wedding band he'd paid off last week. Twisted it around his finger. "I'm thankful I can wear this. That it's real."

A giggle left her. "It suits you." She twirled the leaf by the stem, held it to her face. Eyes shimmering in the sunlight, she gazed over it like a hand fan. "I'm thankful for fewer thorns."

Stare locked on hers, he slowly lowered the leaf. Palmed it and tucked it away to press into the pages of his journal. "You know, no matter what happened, I'm here," he said, closing her hand between both of his.

She kissed the back of his fingers. They curled under the tender fullness of her lips. "I know you are, Arthur." Her palm rested on his sternum, directly above his heart. Pulling him to her, not pushing back. "I know you are." Gentle as a breeze, she raised herself to meet his kiss. He cupped the side of her neck, his thumb at the hollow of her throat.

Ding ding!

A tween on a scooter darted by, missed them by barely an inch. His mother chased him in a haggard, hoofing jog. "Christopher Daniel, you stop this very instant!"

Y/N's laughter rippled against Arthur's fingertips, her chuckles honey on his lips. Elation swept through him, a wave so powerful his knees quaked.

"Come on," she said, lacing her arm through his, and led him down the other side of the bridge. "I think there's a hot chocolate with our names on it."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​​​​​ @ithinkimaperson​​​​​ @sweet-nothings04​​​​​ @stephieraptorr​​​​ @rommies​​​​​ @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1​​​​​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​​​​​ @jokerownsmysoul​​​​​ @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics​​​​​ @iartsometimes​​​​​ @fleckficgirl @chaimshelii

[sapphic-moon-child]

Bumps along the way

Chapter 3: Troubling woods and cold nights

Larissa x Shapeshifter!Reader Pregnant!Reader Pregnant!Larissa

Warnings: Pregnancy struggles, Pregnancy/childbirth, Miscarriages, Mental illness, Swears or curses, Infant Death, Stillborn, PTSD, Panic attacks, Near death experience, Mentions of birth and physical exams, vomiting,

A/N: This story is going to be heavy, it deals with real life situations that most don’t understand the pain of. 1 in 4 women will experience this in their lifetime, remember you don’t know everyone's history.

Chapter 3: Troubling woods and cold nights

Larissa had an appetite for sex like no other and you loved it, she knew how much you loved taking the reins on your bedroom life and how it thrilled you to watch her give up that control. Your home life over the last month has been incredible and healing for you both, finding a new love and many new kinks that brought you together. Your wife was a goddess and worshiping her body was your favorite pastime now. Sometimes a quickie over lunch or a fast one before a long meeting. You knew she craved the release from the stress of her job and you were happy to provide it. 

That was until she all but started avoiding you. She would get irritated quickly and shoo you away while she was on a call. When you would get home she would still be working away in her office and you couldn’t tell what you had done wrong. Larissa had never been anything but kind to you and always made time for you, but the last two weeks she was like a ghost. You decided she must just be stressed and would have a conversation over dinner. You poured two glasses of Merlot and made her favorite meal, Medium rare steak with smashed potatoes and parm glaze and made garlic glazed green beans and a small salad. Everything was perfect: two candles lit and the nice dinner plates out. You bought a dozen roses in pink and red, her favorite and waited on the edge of the sofa for her to come through the door. 

The second she stepped into the door her phone was glued to her ear in a heated debate with someone “Probably the mayor” you think to yourself. You watch as she sheds her coat and slips out of her heels and you hope she turns to you to see the beautiful flowers in your arms for her. Instead though her conversation only turns more heated and you watch her walk right past you and to your bedroom without a second glance. Anger filling your veins you hastily threw the flowers down on the floor and slid into your shoes, without grabbing a coat or your phone you let the door slam behind you. You breathed in the cold night air and let your feet carry you to the woods, tears falling down your face. After what seemed like hours to you, you set down against a tree and let your face fall against your knees sobbing until sleep overcame you. 

Larissa’s POV

The workday was stressful and all I can think about is getting off these damn heels. Everything in my body hurt to touch and the mayor was running me up a wall with all his ranting calls. The students were driving me crazy this week and everything felt irritating. All I wanted was to come home, change out of this tight dress and hug you. While dealing with yet another long call from the mayor and his ranting I frustratingly toed out of my heels and shrugged off my coat and walked into our bedroom to change. Normally Y/N would meet me at the door, but over the last week I know my mood has affected her. “What the hell is wrong with me?” I wonder as I tell the mayor that I am tired and done with this conversation. Hanging up the phone as I pull on a pair of loose jogging pants and a hoodie that I secretly love I hear the front door slam. 

Walking into the living room I see a crumpled bouquet of flowers thrown on the floor and the dinner table set with a beautiful dinner and wine. “How did I not see this before?” I say quietly to myself. I slide on a pair of flats and grab a jacket and open the front door looking around. Your car was still in the driveway, but you were nowhere to be seen. I call out your name, but hear nothing in response. Guilt and worry seeping into my veins… I go back and grab my keys to the school thinking maybe you went to our old quarters upset. Knowing I hurt you pulled my heart in like a vice. I slipped into my office and our old quarters that we kept for night watches and late nights working. Calling out your name, I only hear silence in return. True fear sets in and my feet carry me to the woods. I look for my wife for at least an hour and pull out my phone knowing there are two people that could help me. Dialing the number on my phone knowing the late hour I cringe, but my options are short and fear filled right now. “Principle Weems?” I hear a tired, but cheery voice on the other line. “Enid, I need you and Wednesday. I know that normally I would never ask this of my students, but I’m desperate. I need your tracking skills and Wednesday's brain. Y/N is missing… She… She left the house, but her keys and car are still here and she doesn’t have her phone. I think she’s in the woods.” I choke on my sobs trying to compose myself even just a bit. “Where are you?” I hear Wednesday's dull voice over the line. “ I’m at the woods edge on the east side. Marilynn is on night duty, tell her to come too if you see her.” 

With that in no less than five minutes two students and the red headed teacher are by my side. Marilynn pulls me into a hug and I give them a rundown of what happened. Wednesday already has started to map out the route you could have taken and Enid is trying to pick up a trail. Flashlights in hand we set off into the woods hoping that we can find you before we have to call Sheriff Galpin for a search party. The cold air had turned bitter, and the wind picked up significantly. 

Normal POV

You woke for a few minutes and felt the chill run through my bones. “how long have I been here?” You wonder, but tiredness calls to you and exhaustion fills your brain. You let sleep wash over you, not feeling the cold anymore. Nearing the two hour mark of their search, Wednesday’s voice fills the air. “She’s over here!” You don’t stir from the sounds of yelling or running and don’t register Larissa Pulling you into her chest taking her jacket off and wrapping it around your bare arms. “She's breathing! Darling what were you thinking leaving in only a tee shirt and leggings.” Larissa’s voice is full of panic. “Lars, we need to get her back to the house and get her warm.” Larissa nods through her tears and pulls you into her arms all but running back to your home. The three other women follow and Larissa walks straight to your room sitting down on the bed with you still in her arms. “What do we do Mary?” Wednesday answers instead. “You need to get her out of those cold wet clothes and warm her up slowly. Enid go to the infirmary and get all the hot water bottles and heating pads you can find.” Enid nods and grabs the master keys Wednesday hands her. “When did she swipe those?” Larissa wonders, but can’t seem to care her eyes only on you. Wednesday excused herself so Marilynn and Larissa could get you in warm clothes and tucked into the bed next to Larissa who quickly changed herself. 

Coming back Wednesday brought in a tray of hot tea and a bowl with warm water and a cloth wringing it out. She placed it on your forehead. Enid had returned and filled all the hot water bottles and started handing them to Marilynn to tuck around you and Larissa. You continued to sleep well after the girls had been sent to their dorm and Marilynn refused to leave and pulled out a book and a chair and sat next to your shared bed, telling Larissa to “Sleep, I’ll wake you if she stirs” to which Larissa couldn’t say no to as she was cold and exhausted. About three hours later Marilynn was still reading quietly and sipping a cup of coffee. 

You began to stir, feeling warmth filling your bones, the last thing you remembered was cold. Everything was cold, and then you were tired. You tried to sit up but felt a hand push you back down. “Marilynn?” you questioned yourself, what she was doing in your room. Wait, why were you in your room? You left… “Shh calm down, you're safe, you're okay and at home. You almost died of hypothermia, but we found you in time. Just rest hun. Do you want a drink?” The redhead kept her voice low, and nodded to a sleeping Larissa next to you, poor thing was so tired she didn’t even stir at your movements. “Yes please” you croaked out hoarsely. She got a glass of water from the night stand and let you drink your fill before taking the cup back. “What happened?” You meekly asked? “What do you remember?” She asked back “I…I was upset, I made dinner and got flowers for Larissa. She has been so cold and distant, I wanted to surprise her. When she got home she didn’t even see me waiting with flowers or the table set. She… just walked on… I got mad and went for a walk, and then I remember being cold, and waking up here…” You were confused by all the events that happened. 

“Oh dear, Y/N… you were missing for 4 hours. We couldn’t find you, we being Enid, Wednesday, Larissa and I. When we did find you, you were unconscious and barely breathing. Larissa was a mess, she was fretting until we found you.” You had silent tears running down your cheeks, and gladly took the tissue she offered. “Can I ask you something Y/N?” She asked softly, checking that Larissa was still asleep. You nodded and waited for her to ask. “Has Larissa seemed off for about two weeks? I’ve noticed she’s been short with the students, as well as the staff. That and a few days ago, she dashed off from a meeting looking rather green… I don’t think she's feeling herself.” You processed her words for a moment thinking about your answer. “Oh I feel so dumb, it's her cycle. No wonder she’s been off. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, but I am rather tired. You should go get some sleep. I'm okay, you can stay in the spare room tonight if you’d like and I can text you if I need anything or you can take my set of keys and go home that way you can get in if you need too.” Knowing that was going to be your only option to get the woman to actually sleep. “I think i'll go back home, but i'll leave my ringer on and come back in the morning to check on you.” She said softly seeing that you were on the mend. Soon you fell asleep until morning cuddling your wife.

[mercurialimage]

i am a year maybe more late to the party but like LMFAOOO umm.. here's my town of salem shipping chart 🤗💓 using @aegirine-purple's template

explanations for most of these pairings down below if you want to read. spoiler alert, ITS A YAPPING FEST:

i think the coven is just a huge polycule. and they have inner polycule dynamics as most of them do but i haven't thought about this in detail

i know consig has her skin but i fucking love consig/invest lmfao it's probably still one of my favorite ships even after all these years. there's a huge trend of me liking (townie role) x (mafia equivalent) which is basically the peak (imho) tos pairings.

mafia deception are family but in the found family way. a weird ragtag group. i'd put them into platonic too now that i think abt it. i got this hc from the old fucking days where disguiser had to have a forger/janitor cause they just straight up replaced a PLAYER on the town lmfao. technically disg still works perfectly w/ forger if there's no spies. and oh yeah framer's there too (also works great with disg). mafia support (consig/bmer/consort) don't have this type of familiarity with each other.

pb/ga: i got this idea from a lovers' mode game i had a loooong time ago that required pb to infect me to become pestilence and the pb was just apologizing profusely to me and it was very sweet and heartwrenching. i like to think that for pestilence, one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse (also interpreted as conquest) to have a guardian angel is just so fucking sickening. absolute evil and good. saving grace and absolute armageddon from the heavens. this makes zero sense how i say it but to me it does. this is probably my favorite ship to the point where i had a wip of them and i lost it lol

mayor/gf would be funny, as in i don't ship it/like it but it would be basically like. peak town corruption. i feel this way about most gf ships.

to expand on the light blue line, it's basically "i don't ship this or have thought about this ever from a role pairing standpoint but this is the (or just a) pairing in my tos canon". there'd be more if i actually sat down and worked on my canon but like I Haven't I Just Got Back Into It. sue me. anyway invest stands with his cancelled husband. they're kind of divorced but they remarry (metaphorically). also this ship in the endgame becomes bmer/consig but pretend you dont know this info lol

[breezybeej]

You

Have Got

To Be

Kidding Me

Let me try to express myself better.

When Spock grasps Kirk's hand, it's incredibly layered. Others can give a better summary of the structure of TMP than I can so I'll try to just do broad strokes.

Spock has been away. He left Kirk to go do Vulcan shit and forget how to feel emotions but he can't bring himself to do it. He's needed elsewhere. Kirk and Spock reunite after their extended separation and there's immediately a certain animosity. It almost feels like Spock blames Kirk for him being unable to commit to his Vulcan ritual.

During all this, the B plot is of a couple. They have friction arising from their lifestyles and dedication to duty. Much like Kirk and Spock had for 3 seasons of TOS. The woman gets 'brainwashed' (WAY OVERSIMPLIFYING) by the threatening seemingly unstoppable ancient entity. She loses her humanity*, her emotions and tenderness. She's all logic, no passion. Just like spock.

Plot happens, Spock communes with this entity and is knocked unconscious. He comes to with tears in his eyes, he's expressing emotion in ways we've rarely seen from him. He tells us that he knows what the big bad has been seeking. "This grasps hand simple feeling. "

An aside to explain Vulcans and touch. Spock (allegedly) tries to avoid touching people as much as he can. Vulcans are touch telepaths. Even when he does touch, it is (again, allegedly) small contacts, fingers only, or through fabric.

He grabs James Kirk full on by the hand and... Does what? Why he uses that touch telepathy to channel "this feeling" into him. To directly explain it. And what was that feeling? Why love of course. That is what this entity was trying to understand all along. That is why it 'brainwashed' the lady because she loved her man and it wanted to understand.

This hand holding is like. The Big Gay Moment in Star Trek (aside from Amok Time). It's one of the big symbols in shipping (I think back then they were still calling it slash?). It has to be one of the most well known fandom gay things. surely. It was the blueprint.

But BJ, I hear you say, there's only so many ways two people can hold hands. It can be a coincidence.

Point 1: why was the device Mayor Dick gave Faith designed such that she had to grab Buffy that specific way. They could have had any number of methods but they chose one that necessitated the hand clasp.

Point 2: Vulcan telepathy has the Mind Meld. The two parties merge minds fully. Once you become each other, you feel what that person feels. Their thoughts become yours. You embody them fully. That is what happens to Faith in these two episodes. and like a mind meld, it is dangerous. She nearly loses herself and when she comes back out, she is changed. Buffy is also changed.

Point 3: How do they swap back? With a Katra? What is a Katra?

Well. that's a star Trek thing. It is what my best friend Sarek up there said: your essence. Everything about you that is not physical: your thoughts and emotions and experiences. Vulcans can actually implant their Katra into someone else. And over time, they will start to manifest in the personality and actions of that person. They will gradually become them.

And that is what happens to Faith

Look, I don't know how strongly I can express the importance of the Kirk and Spock hand grasp. I need Star Trek fans to come in here and back me up. This is making me insane. Please tell me I am not the only person seeing this Doug Petrie, I need to talk to you. Douglas. Come Here.