#i just wanted more interactions and developments

[mommy-mortis]

"Glory"

Remmick x Black!reader

Prompt: "Oopsy, you weren't supposed to see that"

Notes/Warnings: Smut, Fake Marriage

Search →Location→Gigs→Domestic gigs

Fake Wife needed Compensation: Negotiable

Fake wife needed, single male with a rare and severe sun allergy that makes it impossible to go out in the day looking for a Wife. Pretend to be my wife and deal with social and legal daytime obligations that I may have trouble completing.

Requirements

• Must have a well kept appearance, wear appropriate attire while preforming outside social interactions, to keep up with social expectations.

• Accompany Husband(me) to social events when asked, and keep up agreeable behavior while at said events.

• Stay out of the basement.

Benefits

• Living in a fully furnished home for free.

• Monthly Allowance.

• Full access to house (not including basement) to decorate as desired.

post id: 785XXXXXX posted: about 15 hours ago ♥

You stare at a Gregslist posting that you had stumbled upon, trying to find something quick and easy enough that could help with the rent that was already past due. It screamed Gregslist killer, but if it was real maybe you could get out of this shit hole, maybe you could start over with your life.

The only reason you were even in this situation was because you chose to trust the wrong person; you had both moved from your hometown over a thousand miles away to seek your fortune in the cities. You were supposed to look out for one another but they had ditched you, gotten married to someone of some means and peaced out. And without even paying their share of the rent, forcing you to scramble for ends. You were able to scrounge up the money for the first couple years after their departure, by using your saving and the kindness of your family, but you just couldn’t do it anymore.

This wasn’t living, this was surviving; all your dreams had been thrown out the window when they pulled their bullshit stunt. “I just don’t want to struggle anymore,” this is what they said as they packed, neither of you had been truly struggling, not like you are now. Both of your goals had been close enough to touch, and in a year or so they could have accomplished all that they wanted; they just didn’t want to work anymore. Which you could understand, but how could they leave so easily without even asking if you’d be okay? Everyday that you woke up, would be more heartrendingly painful than the next.

Looking over at the empty pantry that you never seem to keep full, to the empty pet bowl to a picture of a pet that you had to surrender to the state just so they wouldn’t go hungry, to the barren décor; what did you even have to lose? At a certain point who even cared if they were a killer? You weren’t living anyway.Hello,

I saw your listing on Gregslist, and would like to audition for the role as your Wife. Attached are a few pictures of me, if I look like your ideal wife give me a call at (XXX-555-2564) hope to hear from you soon.

A day goes by without any answer so you decide to take a peek at the listing again to see when the last time he was on, and your heart sinks immediately.

Either he chose someone else, or (and the most likely reason) it was a fake ad that got taken down. You’re seconds from crying when your phone rings.

“Hello.”

“Yes…”

“Right now…Shades…”

“Yeah I’ll be there in…”

He wanted to meet you at the 24hour diner down the street from your apartment. The fact that he chose to meet you at a place with witnesses, was a positive sign that he wasn’t a serial killer right? It’s so late at night though, it must be hard to navigate life with an allergy to the sun.

You wasted no time getting dressed and walking to the diner where a man stood off to the side with shades, ‘That must be him’ you walk up to greet him.

“Well, hello there Sweetheart.” You can't place where he’s from, he must travel often enough to develop an ambiguous accent. ‘Was that even possible?’ You had been a little taken back by his easy use of endearments, but maybe that was just something he had picked up like the accent.

You don’t know what you were expecting him to look like but this wasn’t quite it. He did look clean and put together, but he dressed like someone over half a decade older than him, it felt like he was trying to prove… maybe even trying to hide something. The only thing that seemed to be out of place on him, were the pair of tinted shades he had on. You wanted to ask about his clothing, but decided against it, the last thing you wanted to do was shame him for his choice in fashion. Not when you were in stuck in such a deep hole, practically begging for help.

Though he must have already realized you were on your last match, you're guessing that's the only reason he placed an ad on gregslist, only a desperate person would reply. It wasn't like he was hideous, it was actually quite the opposite; since he wasn't completely irredeemable in the looks area, this could only mean that he was so morally bankrupt that no one in his circle wanted anything to do with him.

He cleared his throat snapping you of the mental gymnastics your mind was doing, trying to find out what was wrong with this man. “Would you mind inviting me in?” He smiles “One of my many eccentricities that I’m hoping you’ll have the patience for.”

Was this a kink thing? You wave him forward as inconspicuously as you can, not wanting anyone to witness whatever kink play he was having you perform, no matter how small.

He smiles walking past you, he chooses a seat in the back of the dinner where you both sit in silence, until the waitstaff comes around asking to get you refreshments. You could afford enough for a water, so that's what you order, while he orders ¾ a cup of black coffee. As the waitstaff nods and walks away he can't keep his eyes off you.

“The photos don’t do you justice you are quite beautiful.” You nod thanking him for his complement, but couldn’t see what he was seeing. You hadn’t worn anything special to impress him, just what was clean and made sense. You complemented him back, and wondered if it would be too forward to let him know that he made your pussy clench when you first met, or would that be outta pocket?

Before you can think any harder on the subject, the waitstaff comes back around; they place down your drinks and ask you what you’d like to order. You clam up, you couldn't even afford a proper drink, there is no way you'd be able to afford anything on the menu, maybe if you ask for half a piece of toast.

Noticing your inner struggle, he tells the waitstaff that you'd like more time. Lightly brushing his hand over yours he leans in, “Have whatever you want don’t worry about the bill.” Embarrassed but grateful for his discretion, you nod, thanking him for his generosity. And when the waitstaff comes back around you order something that you know that you'll like, not wanting to waste his money.

You watch as he orders something similar. “So… Remmick what do you do for work?” ‘That was a safe enough question right?’ “Restoration and Preservation” he gives you a smile but says nothing else, your not sure how to follow up with that. He seems content to just sit there in silence enjoying the heat coming from his coffee, though he never seems to take a sip.

Neither of you say another word, not even when your food arrives. You wait a second for him to begin eating, but when he just sits there not moving you decide to start without him, not commenting on the lack of bites he takes from his own plate. This seems to have been the correct thing to do, because when you’re finished eating he smiles at you; ‘Was he a feeder? It wasn’t exactly serial killer behavior but you’d think he’d be upfront with something like that.’

When the waitstaff comes back around to take payment, they notice the food still sitting on his plate, they ask if everything was alright, and if they could make him something different. He just waves them off, asking for a to-go container instead, when they come back with his receipt and containers, he thanks and tips them before they walk away.

When you're finally alone again, he slides his untouched plate over to you, handing you the containers. “Here pack this up for me, Darlin’,” you do as your told, packing everything neatly away, even putting the container in the paper bag that was left on the table for it. He nods and smiles, but you're truly confused to what you've done to put him in such an agreeable mood.

“Yea’ I think this” he says pointing between him and you “Is gon’ work out just fine” He flags down a random worker and asks for a pen and paper, he then writes down an address with a date and time. “I’ll have a moving truck pick you up, just be ready.” He pulls out a few hundred dollars, you eye the money with far more hunger than you mean to. Embarrassed you look away, just so he doesn’t see the desperation in your eyes.

He taps his finger on the diner table to get your attention, your head snaps in his direction and behind his shades, you see he has a hunger too just a different kind. “Here’s fir yer time, and don’t you go on tryin’ to pay the movers, they’ve already been compensated, kay?” He hands you the money with the slip of paper on top of it.

You start to get up to leave, but he gently grabs your hand before you can fully get going. “I don't think we ever gave each other our names,” His hands are freezing making you shiver, no wondered he ordered that coffee. You tell him your name and he nods picking up the bag of left overs, with a couple of fingers he hands them to you. “Name’s Remmick, Remmick O’Connell and I think we’ll be gettin’ on just fine.”

You make your way safely home placing your leftovers in the fridge; you weren’t quite sure what to think about Remmick, he was most certainly a weirdo, but you couldn't figure out what kind. A knock comes from your apartment door, and your heart droops; did he follow you home? Great now he was going to kill you and take his money back, you were going to be broke even in the afterlife.

You quickly walk over to your door to look through the peep hole, you let out a deep sigh not from being relived but from frustration. Standing front of your door was the owner of the property, they never missed a day to harass you, you open your door but before you have a chance to ask them what they want they begin yelling.

“So you have enough money to eat out but not enough to pay me my money?” You begin to message your temples, “Please I just got home, can’t we talk about this later?” Folding their hands over their chest “Fuck no we can’t talk about this later, small town fucks like you always movin’ to the cities to make it ‘big’, causin’ problems for the locals, cus’ all of a sudden you can’t pay rent, this ain’t in the middle of bum fuck, and rent ain’t two cents and bag of corn!”

Not being able to take it anymore, you slam the door in their face and scream. “Just leave me the fuck alone for the night, I’ll have your money soon, then my small town ass will be outta your hair!” You can hear them sputtering behind the door “Ya! you better have my fuckin’ money, don’t forget I know people!” You scoff, that’s what everyone here said, “I know people” ‘Who the fuck cares!’ You hoped more than anything that everything with Remmick worked out, you don’t think you can do this anymore.

As expected the movers had come in the middle of the night; you told them to move silently as not to wake the neighbors, but in truth you had your own selfish reasons for telling them to be quiet.

What you hadn’t expected was for Remmick to show up in tow.

“Can I come in?” He looks almost giddy.

“Yes, of course please come in, what made you stop by?”

Smiling he steps past the entrance taking a look around, “It occurred to me that you might not have a way to get to me on your own, and having a driver pick you up for me felt too… formal, for our kinda relationship.”

“Thank you, I had planned to hitch a ride with the movers, but now looking at the lack of room in their truck, I don’t think I would have fit.” Giving the apartment another once over you begin to grow anxious, Remmick notices and asks if anything is wrong. “Nothing” you give him a tight smile “It would just be best if we left soon.”

From the time that you met Remmick to the arrival of the moving trucks you had been silently packing everything you could, you really do plan to pay the property owner but with a lack of funds all you can do is leave quietly then pay latter, unfortunately nothing got past your property owner, not even in the middle of the night.

Dramatically entering your apartment without even asking, the property owner stomps their way over to where you and Remmick are talking. “Hmph, just like a field mouse, trying to scurry away. listen I don’t know who the fuck ya are, but she ain’t goin’ nowhere without paying whats already due!”

You want to sink into the floor, shame encasing you like amber.

Without even looking your way or pausing Remmick smiles at the scowling asshole in front of you, that’s purposely trying to make you look bad. “Well, how much does my girl owe ya’?”

You wince at the amount.

He just smiles looking over to one of the movers that had been waiting by the door. “Grab my checkbook” as he waits he looks over at the property owner “You do take checks right?”

The owner folds their arms and give Remmick a sharp nod.

“Remmick, you don’t have to-” He places a hand on your shoulder placing a finger in front of his lips “Shh, don’t worry about it Darlin’, this is nothing if it means I can get you home quicker.” He winks at you making your face heat up.

With a flick of his wrist he cuts the check, handing it over to the owner, not even blinking as he erases the debt that had consumed your life, and been the reason for all of your stress.

“If this bounces…” They sneer at Remmick

He rolls his eyes but tries to keep a smile on his face “It won’t” his irritation slowly growing as the property owner just stands there.

You look at the property owner with exhaustion “Can we get a little privacy?”

“Don’t come back” they spit.

“She won’t” “I won’t” You look at each other and he smiles at you but you lower your head in embarrassment.

You hear the door slam, as the property owner makes one last grand exit in your life. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s fine.”

“No it’s not but thank you for saying so.”

He looks around at your small barren apartment, a place that always brought you pain until you felt you were suffocating from its existence. “Are ya ready to go Baby girl?” you nod following him and silently prayed you’d never have be in a situation like this again, no matter what. You jump in the passenger side, you wait for Remmick to start driving but he just looks over at you. “Put on your seat belt sweetheart, safety first”

“Of course” you fasten yourself in still in awe of what occurred.

When you finally arrive at his home you take a good look around; he lives in a gated community with cookie cutter homes planted in rows.

Without being told to, the movers park and begin to move your things inside of the house. Remmick came to the passenger side of the car and lets you out, placing his hand on your lower back, he guides you into his home. He looks excited to show you around; from the kitchen and pantry, to the bed rooms and study, and finally the living room passing by the basement.

Your eyes only lingered for a second, but long enough for Remmick to notice, redirecting you to where you are now. “This is one of my favorite pieces in this house.” He says waving towards the coffee table beside your legs “It’s sturdy and reliable, had it for years; refused to get rid of it no matter how far I’ve come”

He seems nervous about something, and you soon find out what, as he gets on one knee in front of you your confused at first until he pulls out a ring box, “You’ll need this to make it, um… Official.” You slowly hold out your hand, he takes the ring and band out of its box placing both on your finger. If you’re shocked that they fit, you don’t show it. Instead you thank him and complement the style of the rings he beams at this. It all seems a little too sentimental to you but you allow it.

It doesn’t take long before your bedroom is ready; you hadn’t asked them to but the movers had to the best of their abilities put all of your things away. You didn’t have much but the things you did have were important enough to have brought them with you. You lay down for the night looking at the ceiling of your room. It’s always hard to fall asleep somewhere new for the first time. But as you let the day wash over you, you let yourself become comfortable, lulling yourself off into a dreamland; you don’t notice your door opening.

In the morning as you’re getting ready, you notice a few pairs of underwear missing, maybe they got lost in the move, but you doubt it. ‘Was this the kind of people Remmick employed?’

You make your way downstairs noticing all the blinds to the house are closed tightly. The only thing keeping the house lit were strategically placed floor lamps, and sconce lights on the walls. Giving off the feeling of it being daytime, but without the danger it could pose to Remmick. Speak of the devil you find Remmick sitting in the living room waiting for you, sitting opposite of him are a couple of people that seem to somehow be related, ‘Maybe cousins?’

They introduced themselves as your personnel seamstress and tailor; they quickly begin to take your measurements as Remmick looks on, amused at how green you are at everything happening. “You’re my wife and you’ll need to look the part” he lists your responsibilities, minding the garden and directing the gardener, talking with neighbors to keep up a friendly appearance, and showing up to meetings he can’t personally attend. This gig was starting to sound more like the job of a personal assistant. You ask him about that but he just laughs, “Aye, I could do that, but I like to think I’m cutting out the middle man this way. Too many people get involved with that kind of arrangement; this just feels more private.”

He looks at you “When you have to live like I do, privacy is something you begin to cherish.” You don’t ask any more questions, and when your new wardrobe arrives you fall into your new assigned role, tending to Remmick’s life during the day time, and in the afternoon relaxing around the house.

After a while he slowly begins to join you, at first he was too shy and assumed he was intruding on your private time. “How can you be intruding, we’re husband and wife.” you joke playfully but after that begins to play his role on his sleeve, giving you flowers out of the blue, and jewelry that he thinks might suit you. You think of stopping him, but decide to just go with it, it wasn’t hurting anyone and it seemed to make him happy.

He finds you in the kitchen one day, prepping a bouquet of flowers he had gifted you, you planned to put them in a vase and place them on the kitchen table. He stands at the entrance just watching you, he liked to do that. His habit of watching you probably stems from a lack of human interactions due to his sun allergy, at least that’s what you believe, but you never see him staring at clients when they stop by, like he stares at you.

Sometimes you feel like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a fox, and wonder if you should run away. But then you look back at him and see that he’s just a puppy, you shake away any feeling of uneasiness that tries to plant itself inside your heart, and instead try to convince yourself that everything is normal.

He smiles at you as you wave him over.

“Thank you again for the flowers they’re beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” He’s obvious trying to be suave but he comes off more like a boy with a crush, you chuckle, thanking him for the complement.

“Darlin’ I came seeking you out to ask you to attend as my date for a party.” He looks nervous asking you, as if you’d say no. You don’t think you could even if you wanted to, it was in your agreed upon requirements; you noticed he needed your approval for things that had already been agreed upon. Maybe what he really needed was for someone to pretend for him, perform for him. “No where I’d rather be, Honey” You smile throwing his overt use of endearments back at him, you watch him vibrate with excitement.

“Party’s just a short in and out, just business; just invite me in like the first time we met and smile, you can mingle but we won’t be there too long.” After he informs you of what his expectations are, he stands and watches you as you finish doing what you had been doing when he walked in.

Is it bad that you sometimes want to kiss him, feel his lips against yours, like a real couple? You wave the thought away, you’re forgetting why you’re here, ‘Don’t get attached, don’t get attached, don’t get attached.’ You try to snap out of your grand delusions, but it gets harder and harder when he’s like this.

You sigh, trying to dig your heart deeper into your chest, you spend the rest of your day like this with him by your side, just taking up each others time, until nighttime falls and you bid each other goodnight.

That night, you can’t help as yourself as you move your fingertips down your body, pretending that they were his. At first you’d been too self-conscious to do this in his house, but it’s been a while, and any hangups you had quickly melted in your panties the longer you were around him. It’s been so long that it doesn’t take much to find your release, you choke out his name while playing with your body. Even though his room is down the hall you try to be quiet, you didn’t know how thick the walls were.

The walls are thick enough that you never hear the body on the other side of your door, desperately joining you in your release, begging to be let in. You slowly drift to sleep without a clue to the body you’ve wrecked, like soft tides on a sand castle unaware of their destruction, but no lest devastating. He cleans his mess up leaving you to sleep and keeping you unaware.

For the party he calls the seamstress and tailor duo for you again; he let them adorn you with soft silk fabrics until you stand there in all your beauty. Remmick’s eyes never leaving your body, you begin to feel light headed as your pulse quickens and you begin to feel hot all over just from his gaze. The seamstress looks at you then to Remmick with concern “Mr. O’Connell, are you doing alright you have something-” they both motion to the side of his face where you can see a wet shimmer dripping from his chin ‘Was he drooling?’

He touches the side of his chin looking away, “Forgive me y’all’, I have some business to attend to in the study.” He looks back at the seamstress and tailor “Make sure to give my Wife whatever she wants.” After he leaves it doesn’t take long to finish, but you still want his opinion on some of the styles you may want to wear in the future. He had said he’d be in his study; you can hear the muffled sound of his voice. You don’t think to knock, you just quietly enter, not wanting to interrupt him if he was on an important call.

That’s how you come into view of him leaning slightly back in his chair one hand gripping the chair’s arm rest and the other wrapped around his dick. You swear you meant to look away but noticed something in his hands; it was your panties that had gone missing your first night here. You watch as his eyes screw up moaning your name, as his pace picks up. You know it’s wrong, but you can’t look away, and when he finally does notice you standing there, he’s too far gone to stop himself from cumming into the underwear fisted around his cock. “Jesus, fuck” he cries out panting out your name he tries to cover himself.

You turn around a tad to late “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt your private time.” you listen as he makes himself decent but you choose not to turn back around.

“I-I” he tries to stammer out an excuse but there’s nothing that he could say that wouldn’t make this situation worse.

“Please don’t say anything, we don’t have to talk about it, it doesn’t have to mean anything” there is a heavy silence between you.

“Alright.” he sounds so defeated, you wait for him to say anything else but when he stays quiet you decide to leave, pausing you turn back towards him, doing your best not to make eye contact. “I’m not sure if I, uh need to say this but, you can keep them, the panties.” looking at your underwear in his hands, he quickly places them behind his back. You leave quickly just in case he tries to explain himself again.

You spend most of your time in your room after that, only going out to preform your agreed upon duties, and talking with the seamstress and tailor about the attire you’ll be wearing for the gathering. Ever so often you find yourself checking to see if any more panties come up missing; they don’t, and the day for the party slowly approaches. The day before, you take extra care with your hair regimen, so that you can focus on your body.

The night before, after you come out of your bathroom glowing, you find multiple bra and pantie sets laid on your bed; they were definitely more expensive than the cheap pairs that he had stolen, was this an apology?

Should you apologize too? What he did was fucked up, but you didn’t need to continue watching, but you wanted to, you enjoyed watching him come undone with just a pair of cheap panties that you had gotten in a pack on sale.

You wonder if he still uses them; the thought begins to excite you but you can’t waste time fantasizing at the moment. You try not to waste anymore time; you pick out a set of undergarments and put on the final design of the dress, letting the Seamstress and Tailor in to make sure it’s laying right.

He smiles as you make your way towards him. ‘Fuck, he looks amazing’ maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to avoid him all this time, you had forgotten what he did to your body. He says nothing about the gifts he left on your bed, he doesn’t even ask if you were wearing them, you were but it’s nice that he’s gentleman enough not to ask about it. ‘Though not gentleman enough not to steal my panties.’ You wrap yourself around the arm he offers while he walks you to the car, he opens the door for you making sure your settled he places the seat belt on you, closing your door then jumping in the car and doing the same for himself, before hitting the highway.

Handing his keys over to a valet he smiles at you. “Before we go in I want to say something.” ‘Oh god, please don’t let him bring up what happened in the study, oh god please.’ “You look absolutely breathtaking.” You smile at him, giving your thanks; you let him lead you to the house where the social gathering was. Unlike when you first met you don’t wait for him to ask, immediately you invite him in.

Allowing him to place his hand on your lower back, you let him guide you over to a handsome older gentleman, with hair that was graying on his temples, who you can only assume is the Host for tonight. You had assumed that you wouldn’t know anyone here, and you wish that had been the case; but standing right behind him was the person that had got you into this whole mess. You didn’t know whether to punch them or thank them; instead you act like you don’t know them, letting introductions flow freely as if this was your first meeting.

“Where have you been hiding such a lovely wife?” the host remarks.

Remmick caresses your cheek. “Well you know I can be a very jealous man, and shes truly the apple of my eye,” He says looking at you with so much unadulterated love, that you almost look behind yourself to see who he’s talking about. “It’s hard to not want to keep ‘er locked up.” He says with a little to much honesty, that it even makes the host uncomfortable.

They chuckle and start to talk about business, at that you tune them out, every so often glancing around the party. Remmick’s hand never leaves your lower back; as he talks, a possessiveness that you never knew he had shines through, and everyone around could see it.

Remmick leans down and whispers in your ear making you shiver you don’t know if he noticed, but a smirk forms on his lips. “Be right back, remember what I said just an in and out.” You nod, watching Remmick and the host entering doors to the back rooms.

You had hopped your ex roommate would do the honorable thing and just ignore you like you had planned to ignore them, but you weren’t so lucky. They walked straight to you as the two men walked away. “Funny bumping into you here.” You continue to ignore them giving them the barest of acknowledgments.

“It’s good to see you again, looks like you finally followed my lead, and let go of your foolish dreams. Better to give up sooner than to die broke later, am I right?” That was your limit; why couldn’t they just leave you alone? “I never gave up on my dreams, and that is not why I’m here right now, it was you that couldn't cut it, not me.” You try to keep your voice down but they’re making it hard, before they can needle you again, someone that you assumed works for them tries to whisper in their ear, but you catch parts of the conversion. Band arrived but singer left separately, never showed. They look over at you, watching as you try to pretend like you’re not eavesdropping, smirking they point at you.

“We have a replacement right here. Tell the band to get ready, she’ll be on in a few.” The color leaves your face. “What are you doing” You hiss at them. “What, you said you never gave up on your dreams, or was that just a bunch of hypocritical bullshit you were spouting to make yourself feel better about snagging a sugar daddy like me, while still looking down at me from your high chair?” Brushing past them you make sure to bump into their shoulder. “Witness me Bitch” It comes out as playful, you would gladly raise to their challenge.

“Give me something worth witnessing” They smile knowing just what to say to rile you up, and for a second it’s as if you both were back in that apartment, two broke kids trying to make it big.

As you’re handed a mic you don’t have time to think if what your about to sing is business friendly, or if it will embarrass Remmick, you just feel the words flow out of you like a firework busting from its casing.

“Glory, glory, glory to the night That shows me what I am..”

You don’t know when Remmick comes back but he’s watching you intently, as you pour your soul out into a party full of strangers, and you hope this doesn’t break your agreement.

“As I go to the party on my knees Saying "Take it all, please"

You lock eyes with him as you sing, and just like that night in the dinner you see that hunger in his eyes, and it was meant for you.

“Glory, glory, glory to the night It shows me what I am”

He smiles as if he had finally found what he was looking for in life, and you realize right at that moment the hunger in his eyes was always meant for you, and that thought scares you, It could mean only one thing.

“I'm not happy or sad, just up or down And always bad”

Remmick had fallen in love with you.

As you finish the song you watch as your old friend walk away probably on their way to find their husband. Remmick walks towards you looking like he wants to kiss you, and you think would have let him if everyone including you weren’t suddenly shocked by a shrill scream that comes from the backrooms. The person that you used to know comes stumbling out of the doors. “He’s dead, please someone help, my husband he’s been murdered, get help!” You watch as people around you slowly begin to try and get help, but stop in their tracks as the host and supposedly dead husband, makes an appearance behind them with an oddly familiar smile.

“Sweetheart, I’m old not dead.” He places a hand on their lower back. “I can’t party like I used to, I need to re-energize somehow, and I’d like to do it without putting stuff in my nose.” He stage whispers making everyone breakout in a nervous laugh. “I apologize everyone, my young spouse here has mistaken my light nap for a visit from the grim reaper.”

Instead of nervously laughing along with everyone else they push their husband, the host away; you hear audible gasps all around as they make their way over to you grabbing you by your arms. Their eyes full of the kind of panicking desperation you only see in horror movies, they try to get you to listen to them “I know what I saw, please, pleas-”

Not sure what to believe you let their husband usher them away, not noticing the light stain on his collar as their screams become more panicked. Remmick quickly guides you out of the party without saying goodbye to anyone. No matter what they did in the past you hoped they would be okay, but you had a feeling in your guts that you just witnessed the death of a memory.

Getting you in the car he hits the highway towards home.

“I didn’t know you could sing.” It was something you wanted to keep to yourself, didn’t want it to be a part of you that you sold, but you couldn’t say that. Instead you say “Didn’t want to bother you with my silly little hobbies.” “It didn’t sound like just a hobby to me, sounded like something special, beautiful, real goddamn beautiful.” You thank him but don’t say anything else on the matter, and for a second it’s quiet as he drives. “Will you do it again, just for me?”

“Is that a request or a demand?” ‘Did that sound bitter?’

He takes a quick glance over at you, making sure to keep his eyes on the road for the most part. He drives in silence for the rest of the trip. Parking the car in the driveway, he softly grabs your hand while looking you in the eyes. “I’m not requesting or demanding but beggin’ ya please sing for me.”

You were only teasing him, you hadn’t planned to sing for him, but his pleading made you smile. He brings is lips to the back of your hand kissing it softly, glancing over at you he must know by now what he did to you, he begins to lean towards you and you know what he wants.

You unbuckle your seat belt not waiting for him you get out of the car, you practically sprinting to the house, you had to get away from him before you did something stupid.

He sprints after you calling your name.

Closing the door behind himself he finds you in the living room, walking towards the stairs to the upstairs bedrooms, but he stops you turning your body towards him, till you’re facing his chest.

“We shouldn’t.” You place your hands on his chest, it felt like a sin to want him so badly.

“Why not?” He says eyelashes almost touching you as he goes in to kiss you again.

“I think I'll regret this.” You start off with slow kisses, but soon you both get desperate, trying to get a taste of each other with every touch of your lips.

He runs down your body with his lips leaving kisses in his wake, as he rips open the front of your dress. The sound of shock leaves your lips, but he covers them with his own moaning into your mouth, as you paw at his belt working it loose with your fingers. He runs his fingers over your exposed bra looking for your nipple, he rips the fabric of the bra kissing and sucking on your breast then to your nipple, when he finally gets your titty free.

You unbutton his slacks, pulling them down far enough to release his dick from his underwear, before you can wrap your hand around him he pulls back from you. You watch as his chest lifts up and down, slowly descending in front of you he looks almost animalistic as he gets on his knees, he lifts your dress up, pulling your panties down. You don’t expect it, so when he pulls you down, pushing your back flush against the coffee table, and dives between your thighs with his tongue, you make a choked noise.

You try to close your legs from the over stimulation but he keeps you open, your legs firmly placed on his shoulders; he wasn’t going to let you go until you gave him what he wanted. Your hips lifting off the coffee table your hand goes to his hair pulling him deeper into your snatch. As you moan his name, you cum on his tongue and feel as he laps the juices off your cunt.

“Oh Fuck sweetheart you taste like heaven.” As you run your hands through his hair you notice that he has natural waves, “Beautiful.” The word leaves your lips as he grabs your hand, kissing the palm of your hands as he pulls you on top of him. You sink slowly on his length, already weeping with pre-cum. You begin to ride him like you were starved for just the taste of him. “Fuck love, please slow down it’s been a while, I’m not gon’ta last!” You look down at him with a smirk on your lips, he gave you no mercy, so why should you give him any? You kick it into over drive, rolling your hips with purpose.

Remmick tries to grab your hips to slow you down, but you grab his hands placing one on the titty he had ripped your bra just to get a taste of and the other on your lips kissing his fingertips. “Fuck so good, I can’t!” He’s practically weeping under you, as you keep rolling your hips in a smooth but relentless motion. You’re closer to the edge than you thought, you cum all over his dick, as he finds release in you. Panting each others names, delirious with euphoria he holds you close as you feel drops of him start to drip out of you.

After that day it feels like you are closer then ever, he lets his natural waves lay on his head, cause he knows you like to play with them and you sing to him in the after noon letting him lay his head on your lap. Everything feels like paradise, that is until you’re doing a little morning gardening and one of your neighbor sees you.

Waving you over they seem nervous at first, saying they weren’t going to bring it up, but you seemed like such a nice and normal couple. “Do you know about the people that your Husband brings home at night?” Blinking, that wasn’t what you had expected them to say. “What-, Mr. O’Connell… My Husband is in the business of restoration and with his sun allergy-” They don’t look convinced just like you don’t feel it. “It’s just that when they leave they look so disheveled, as if they had removed their clothing.” Your fists clench, you didn’t want to hear this. “What are you trying to imply?” “I didn’t mean to offend” “I don’t know what is going on in that mind of yours but I suggest you just forget what you saw.”

You try to breathe but it’s become harder. “Now I have roses to take care of, good day.” You hadn’t meant to sound so angry, but you hadn’t known of any people of the night visiting Remmick. Of course it would have been while you were asleep, and yes there had been times when you woke up to find his side of the bed empty, but he was probably in the basement working on restorations.

Beside it wasn’t your place to question what he did with his time; that’s right, you were just his fake wife, but you were his real lover and the thought of him in the arms of someone else made you so sick. You could barely breathe; you’re quiet for the rest of the week, and if Remmick noticed anything he doesn’t say a word. You can barely look at him without envisioning him making love to some random faceless person, to the point you begin to have nightmares about it.

It’s due to one of those nightmares that you awaken in the middle of the night; your neighbors words getting to you as you reach out for a body that you knew wasn’t there. You glance to the windows getting up when you hear the sound of his car driving into the driveway, you slowly pull back the curtains just enough to stay hidden, but also enough to peek outside.

You watch as he pops out of his car with someone that you’ve never seen before, at least you don’t remember seeing them; could they be someone from the parties he took you to? Your hand covers your mouth as he wraps his arm around their waist, and your heart drops into your stomach; your neighbor had been right, he was bring people home.

You don’t know why but you can’t help yourself as you creep downstairs; you see the basement door ajar and you don’t know what compels you to, but you steadily make your way down the stairs. Every part of your mind is telling you to go back upstairs, ‘what will you even do when you catch him in the act with someone else?’ ‘Are you really willing to ruin everything just to, what, sate your curiosity?’ ‘Please, please, please, turn around!’ Your heart screams at you to stop.

When you make it to the base of the stairs what you expected to see wasn’t there, not completely. They were naked but instead of seeing two people fucking like their lives depended on it, you find Remmick moments away from biting some poor persons throat out, with a Tarp laid neatly on the concrete floor so as not to leave any stains. You try to go back upstairs but a shovel leaning against the wall falls as you bump into it, alerting them both that you saw what was happening. Shocked by your presence Remmick stops dead in his tracks; had his eyes always been that color that was so deeply red, so inhuman? He loosens his grip on his victims body. “Sweetheart I can explain.” As he scrambles to glue together some kind of half lie his victim gets away before Remmick can catch them, running towards the stairs their salvation just feet away.

You grab the shovel off the floor that had been leaning against the wall and in one swift motion you wack the victim across their face; as they fall back you watch as Remmick grabs them by their hair, pulling them back over to the tarp. Both of their eyes never leaving you, one filled with betrayal the other filled with curiosity, you watch as Remmick gets down on his knees, forcing the victim’s head to the side as he bites down on their neck.

His eyes stay locked on you as takes all he can from them. As their eyes roll back losing consciousness and body becomes limp, what you’ve done catches up to your brain. You slowly turn away from him, making your way back up stairs, sitting in the living room. You don’t know how long you wait, but it was long enough that Remmick is walking towards you.

With his Victim a few steps behind him, now fully dressed, they smile at you. They give you a wave as if to say no hard feelings on helping them get murdered; you look at Remmick’s face still covered in blood as he lays a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry baby, you weren’t meant to see that.” You notice that his fingers are still elongated; your eyes snap forward focusing to the object in front of you, it really is a nice coffee table.

If you like what you read check out my other stories from my 'Corner Store' Series where you the readers get to pick the prompt.

Unplanned pregnancy - dhampir

Car broke down in the middle of nowhere

[lunaetis]

interaction call ! now that i've done a bit of a clean up, i want to launch this out to all my followers, old & new, because i want to try my best to reach out to more ppl ! before interacting with this post, however, please give this a read on what it'd entail.

the purpose of this post is for my mutuals to tell me that you're interested in forming interaction(s) & develop dynamics with our muses. i would either send something from your ( or my ) meme tags, send you some personalized asks, or write you a short starter to get something going for us. ( asks are likely to be turned into threads. ) please comment on which muse(s) you'd like from my end. for multis, please also let me know who it'd be for. if you can't choose just one, please at least give me a few names or fandoms you're familiar with. if i really cannot decide i'll message you to plot something ! you can let me know if you have preferences on asks / memes, or starters in the comment as well !

links : main muses | request only muses | test muses

a like would serve as a PLOTTING CALL. if you like this post without any comments, i will drop into your DM to talk and plot something out for us. new interactions / dynamics will be prioritized.

[alicethenobody]

I think maybe one of the reasons Dante is so often misunderstood as a character is because he’s never written in just one specific way. I fee like different eras of the franchise have him act in different ways depending on where he is in his life.

In 3 he is often described as “A younger Dante who lacks the maturity DMC1 Dante had.” As he’s kind of a dick early on and doesn’t really care about much happening besides his beef with Vergil. That is until he gets his character development, of course. Dante’s Awakening has a double meaning because he awoke to his DT and awoke to justice like his father.

In 2 and the Madhouse anime we see a Dante who’s way more reserved and he can come across as cold sometimes, as he’d been dealing with grief and thought the only way to protect people was to be cold to them so they wouldn’t want anything to do with him. This is a trauma response to Nell, Grue, Jessica, and Vergil’s deaths (or “death” in Vergil’s case) in the Madhouse anime it’s implied he was kinda pushing away Lady and Trish for a while, with Trish being a little surprised he offered a place for her if she ever needed somewhere to stay. Thankfully this isn’t the case anymore starting with 4 where we see the trio hanging out and having fun.

Speaking of. 1, 4, and 5 Dante + multiple spinoffs or crossover media like PxZ, PGR, MvC, etc. We see him being warm and friendly to people. Compare how he interacts with Lucia in Before The Nightmare and DMC2, it’s honestly night and day.

So for me I see Dante’s default as a warm and friendly guy who’s also jokey but I mean friends joke with each other all the time so that’s an aspect of his friendliness. But might put on an act of coldness like he did in 2 and sometimes in the Madhouse anime if he deems it necessary. It’s really a show of how selfless he is, but too selfless, because he’s essentially hurting himself for the sake of others. He doesn’t believe he deserves happiness because he blames himself for things that aren’t his fault like the fact Nero didn’t have a father or the deaths of his loved ones. He’s clearly very lonely and doesn’t enjoy pushing people away.

This man needs therapy and hugs.

[utilitycaster]

Mighty Nein: specifically avoided enlistment or aid to the Dwendalian Empire during the early days of the War of Ash and Light. Beau and Caleb, despite growing up within the Empire and despite Caleb's earlier indoctrination in his youth both took a skeptical view towards its policies. Despite extensive propaganda towards the Kryn Dynasty, the party let a drow go early on and later traveled into the Dynasty and frankly did so with even less regard to caution than was legitimately warranted. They not only returned the stolen beacon that was part of the inciting incident; they spent their time in Rosohna engaging in good faith with the culture, and pretty soon developed a team goal to end the war and bring peace between the Empire and dynasty. The party also, in addition to having a strong and consistent theme of forgiving themselves (notably, Yasha, Caleb, and Veth) forgave a number of others or gave them a second chance. This is most prominent with Essek, but notably, they made a good faith effort to find Molly within Lucien and only began outright hostility when he threatened to leave one of them behind and took advantage of their hospitality and stole their shit, and even then they spent the entire last fight trying to reach him even when it was clear he was gone. They tried to resurrect Molly once Lucien was killed, and gave life to someone new in the process. They also left Trent alive not just out of mercy for him but because holding a trial would ensure the dissolution of the volstrucker program. Significant NPCs such as Astrid, the Gentleman, and Marion, as well as PCs like Calianna explore this sentiment of the potential for change and growth; Reani serves to illustrate the benefit of developing a more nuanced and generous viewpoint.

Now, this was obviously a shitpost as neoconservative is a highly specific ideology, and my post was heavily influenced by this remark of Empire propaganda being reflective of both the current US attacks on Iran and that in turn being in many ways inextricably linked from the neoconservative, imperialist and interventionist foreign policy of the GWB administration. I think that to be fair, Ludinus is the neoconservative, and Bells Hells are much more "median American voters in 2004", falling for the following arguments:

A genuinely tragic event and world-changing event with major loss of life is treated as justification to depose and kill the powers that supported this action, with little regard to extensive collateral damage (obviously, Ludinus is pretend and his war crimes in-game are also pretend, however, this is a useful reading)

Said efforts are in many ways the heir to earlier action against said powers (the 2003 Gulf War being in many ways people wanting another go at the region following the 1992 Gulf War; Ludinus's idolizing of Age of Arcanum ambitions towards killing the gods)

Generally, an interventionalist attitude propagandized as "liberators" without actually spending time interacting with people on the ground (see: the only civilians vaguely in support of this are in Hearthdell, and even they lost more lives to leyline fuckery than they did to the priests of Pelor until they attacked said priests; Bells Hells talked to very few people in Kreviris). can you say Operation Exandrian Freedom.

Bush-era neoconservativism, when you strip out the Earth-specific items (US unilateralism, emphasis on action in Western Asia) was defined as binary good/evil worldview, low tolerance for diplomacy, readiness to use military force, and disdain for multilateral organizations; a better way to engage with the geopolitical attitude when dealing with a fantasy world is an Us vs. Them mentality. Bells Hells kind of abandoned their multilateral allies in a big way for a very US-feeling absolute individualism above-all which is not unique to conservativism, hence their (demotion? promotion) to just "2004 median voter". They also did kind of make a quagmire, and did sort of do a Mission Accomplished while leaving the region (ie, planet and moon) mostly a mess because they had no real plan going in, did not know what anything would do and didn't really consider implications and got mad at the people who brought them up.

The rehabilitative, pro-cultural exchange anti-war Mighty Nein vs the neoconservative Bells Hells

[jerich0l0ve]

Can you do one where Noah and the reader are best friends and they both ended a relationship but agree on "helping each other"😉

But they actually like each other.

You don't have to but just a thought

Love you lots❤

I don't HAVE to but I did... and I did it with 1400 words lol 😏

Helping Each Other

18+ MDNI

Noah x Feminine Reader

CW: casually written smut, implied unprotected p in v, fingering, hj, vibrators mentioned, smooching.

It had been terribly long since the last time you had sex with someone… well 2 weeks to be exact. Despite the unfortunate situation where your boyfriend cheated on you, the one thing you actually missed was having a regular sex life.

And despite having a few vibrators, well they just weren’t cutting it. You equated that to the lack of intimacy you developed with the pink vibrating rabbit that lived in your nightstand drawer. Don’t get it wrong, she was a cut pink rabbit toy, but she wasn’t necessarily a gorgeous man to make out with while doing the deed was she?

After another failed attempt that afternoon, you decided to take your mind off of the burning need by inviting your friend Noah over for an anime night. You both were working your way through the monstrous production that was One Piece. Over 1,100 episodes, you both had plowed your way through 562 of them.

And you both happened to be lonely, Noah’s previous relationship ended a month prior to yours—she cheated on him with one of their crew members. To say it got messy was an understatement.

Noah sat beside you now, smelling heavenly as he always did, wearing his casual gym-like attire. He sat close, you both had been friends for many years and there was a certain type of intimate connection between the two of you. Nothing physical had ever happened, but there was a deeper connection there built on trust and honesty, a few shared traumatic experiences from your youth too.

Matter of fact, as you looked at Noah now there were a few little sparks that worked their way into your chest. He had always been quite handsome, but you equated the sudden urge to the other urges you had.

When Noah’s eyes met yours, he chuckled a little before placing a hand casually on your lower thigh. The jolts were almost too much to handle, you adjusted your seat a little.

“Is something wrong?” Noah asked nonchalantly, his eyes had returned to the show.

You smirked at him, glancing to the side, “I haven’t been touched by a man in SO long.”

Noah’s laugh filled the room, he was always a little flirty in his interactions but never overstepped the imaginary boundaries you both held, “I’m pretty sure being touch deprived for 2 weeks is alright… try a month and a half.”

You turned to your friend; eyes widened a bit. He wasn’t one to shy away from many casual hookups, especially after Bad Omens took off. The fact that he hadn’t so much as touched a woman since his breakup was a little surprising.

“Ah, no more fans on the roster I see,” you raised a brow, which earned a cheeky smile from Noah.

“There are always fans, y/n, but do I always want the fans? That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Noah said in his usual casual demeanor.

“It is, isn’t it?” You smiled a little, a thought popped into your head, but it was too wild to act on. It would break countless rules that kept you in place for years, rules you told yourself were supposed to protect your heart and his.

Noah held your gaze for a few moments longer, only interrupted by something intense happening in One Piece. You figured the conversation was over until Noah said, “You know, I wouldn’t be opposed to helping solve the little issue you’re having?”

“And what issue would that be, Noah?” You asked.

“I see it as a transactional agreement. I get a little something… you get a… big something. We can both happily proceed with our lives afterwards without a care in the world,” Noah’s finger traces the small tattoo above your knee. It was a small touch, but the whispers of his fingers felt heavenly against your skin.

You looked at your friend, “That would be dastardly, wouldn’t it? Couldn’t think of a worse idea honestly.”

Noah quickly picked up on the dry sarcasm laced within your words, “Oh it would be absolutely terribly irreversible damage.”

His body shifted moving closer, your legs quickly found their way around his waist as it fast approached.

“Honestly, how do you even run a business with decisions like these? Sounds like you’d tank it every day,” You smiled as he went flush with you, a very hard and exciting surprise awaiting already.

“I couldn’t tell you how I have survived this long.”

Inch by inch, Noah lowered his body until his lips pressed softly against yours, it started soft but immediately deepened as your legs pulled him in impossibly closer.

The kiss sent sparks through the air, One Piece completed disappeared as you both got lost in the kiss.

Tongue, teeth, lips, they all meshed together perfectly, all moved in the same rhythm that seemed to be inside you both for a long time now. A rhythm only the both of you understood, one that seemed it would never end no matter how terrible this idea was.

That rhythm continued as his hips grinded against yours, as clothes expertly ripped away and were thrown well across the room. Every inch of tattoos visible, every inch of skin—his skin.

It was soft against yours, your nipples perked up with each connection his chest made to yours. Lips moved there, making small marks over the sensitive areas and leaving nothing untouched. It was blissful, magical, something to write a song about.

His fingers played you like a guitar; one by one they entered with efficiency and skill. They were slick before he even got all the way in. Your hand wrapped around him now, both of you playing each other in tune to the loud heartbeats and breathing that filled the air.

It didn’t take long for the need to increase, for Noah to slip in smoothly. His hips didn’t move too fast, a slow pace that matched the circles he made with his tongue along your lips. That tongue found its way to your chin, your cheek, and tickled your ear.

Moans joined the choir now, moans that drowned out any noise from the apartment or the bustling city beyond. The pace never quickened though, Noah took his time showing you every inch that he had to offer—making sure you felt the small twitches as he grew near. Your pleasure built tightly, this was everything you needed and wanted, it was everything that felt right.

“Noah…” you gasped, his eyes opened lazily as they locked on yours.

He let out a small grunt before responding, “…Yes?”

The tension built and built. It became too much and everything you needed all at once, “I think… I think we… should do this… more often,” you said in between breaths.

Noah’s smile brightened his eyes, he slowed the pace down even more until it was unbearable, “You know I was thinking the same thing.”

His lips met yours, this kiss was different. It was soft and loving, unlike any kiss you had ever experienced from anyone before. A hidden message only you knew, held between the both of you as it sent you over the edge.

Sweaty foreheads met, eyes closed, and mouths held agape with small breathless moans escaping as you both rode the high. It sent you into existential bliss.

When it ended, there were already tears forming, Everything was perfect, and the crash down afterwards was enough to leave you wanting more for the rest of eternity.

Noah’s eyes opened and met yours, a lazy smile making its way to his lips, “Shall we actually do that again sometime?”

You took a breath, “You know I think we might have to. I’ve had a taste of bad decisions, and I don’t think I want to give it up yet.” You smiled cheekily.

“I promise you, y/n, if you continue to use my song titles in casual conversation, I will find a way to get you back,” Noah pulled himself away, careful not to stain the new couch you purchased the week prior.

“I can think of a few ways, but I’m not sure it would be a one-time thing… nor casual,” you added the last part, it was time to put everything on the line.

Noah smiled as he grabbed a few tissues to clean you both up with, “Now that would be absolutely dastardly indeed.”

Noah and you spent the rest of the evening exploring that idea, and the next, and the next…

xoxxox

[fall0utmind]

Ruined

Hi, so this isn't my normal fic at all. It was a real effort of labour and love. I would really appreciate you reading it and letting me know what you think. I actually really love it so I hope you do too !!!!!! I know Tony/Fabio isn't the most popular pairing but I really hope you enjoy xx

AO3 HERE

RPF summer camp - 'sunburn'

It was Fabio's fault, really.

He was the one who told Mig that it was fine to include in the podcast.

Fabio had laughed, high and false in his throat, when the older man had asked if he should cut it out, eyes sympathetic. The sensible thing would have been to politely agree and request that any mention of Tony be eradicated from the final cut, but Fabio had never been sensible.

The fans would like it, if nothing else. They always liked the rider interactions. Better if it was something they weren't privy to: the secret interactions in the paddock, hidden behind corners and inside motorhomes. God knew that there were enough of them. Fabio knew that some of them would rock the motorbiking world and hence would never see the light of day.

(Well, not if Marc had his way.)

Mig was kind enough not to push or pry into it anymore, not so subtly changing the subject. But he had done enough by alluding to the nature of their relationship and the privacy it required.

Well, not that there was an actual relationship to keep private.

Fabio sort of wanted to make a childish comment about Franky in retaliation, calling attention to the way Mig stared at him like a forlorn puppy, if only to level the playing field. Instead, he shrugged it off, pretended for a second that this was normal, that he was fine. That Tony didn't mean the world to him, more than a friend ever should, or that Mig's questions had opened a sinking chasm of realisation inside his chest. He pointedly ignored Mig's concerned look and shoved any thoughts of his friend to the back of his mind, leaving before he could be interrogated further. He hugged Mig on the way out, tried not to think about the way he clung on a fraction too long.

He had never quite grasped how undeniably gone he was for his best mate until that moment, warm to the core as he talked about their friendship. Nor was he ready to admit that to himself by giving in to Mig's kindness. Fabio knew that Tony wouldn't mention it. They had been skirting around Fabio's weird affection for years, like biting around the soft, brown bit of an apple, letting the rotten parts decay some more, hoping one day it wouldn't exist at all. Fabio could play it off as a joke, he thought, in the same way he brushed aside all the girlfriend questions, pretending that a relationship was a waste of his time.

If anyone looked closely, if they knew Fabio, they would see that Tony wasn't a joke to him. Most had seemingly worked it out before Fabio. In hindsight, it wasn't like he had hidden his affection, his obsession with the younger man. Surely Tony understood. Fabio watched every one of Tony's races, standing on the other side of the pit wall to cheer him on, unashamed of the constant buzz and the cameras trained on him. He constantly wanted to be around the Italian, sought out his affection like a sunflower chased the sun even as it dipped below the horizon. Fabio didn't do that for anyone else.

It had just taken him years to understand that the affection he felt wasn't just the strong ties of friendship which bound them together. If Fabio was the last to catch on, that meant that Tony knew.

The problem wasn't really on Fabio's end, then.

(Or maybe it was, he was the one who had gone and developed a crush after all.)

He didn't even know where Mig had gotten half of his gossip, however true it was. Of course, Andrea was always in the paddock with the VR46 team, and anyone with eyes could see the closeness between Fabio and Tony. But this hit a little too close to home for his liking. It was like someone had come along and scooped out his soft middle, leaving his aching heart unprotected, almost handing the knife to Tony.

How Uccio had seen him at Tony's door was another mystery. He didn't think anyone had been around whilst he was skulking around the paddock, late enough that even the media had headed home. The picture was burned into his memory, but he had no recollection of when or where it was, just that it had been another bad practice, and Fabio, seeking comfort, had gone to Tony's door, following the warm light seeping out from inside.

He had been brave, for once, calling upon his friend rather than shutting himself away to sulk. Fabio had convinced himself to go to where he knew the younger man was, feeling turbulent, something tight squeezing in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He made it all the way to the door, only to hear the unmistakable sound of Tony's voice, soft and flirty as he spoke; the answering laugh was high-pitched, distinctly feminine. Presumably, he had company, flavour of the month, Fabio scoffed. He squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of pain, the feelings of inadequacy, fist still raised as if to knock. He left without entering, afraid to be a nuisance, his heart spasming. Fabio didn't think about it again; he cried himself to sleep in the darkness of his own empty motorhome instead.

He felt a little bit like he'd been drowning in denial until approximately three days ago, when the podcast had aired, and he watched just how fond his face was when talking about Tony. It was one thing for his friends to know, another to sit in the puddle of his own ignorance, something else entirely for his dirty laundry to be aired so publicly.

(And yet he had agreed.)

It was a cruel, last-minute wish to have more time, to explore this feeling, to acquaint himself with it before he had to package it up into a neat little box and shove it into the depths of his mind. The sudden switch up from believing he just adored his friend in all the normal ways to realising they had skipped past platonic long ago.

Tom, in typical fashion, sent him the little clips that Mig had posted on social media. The question marks accompanying the reel were damning, as was the incoming call, which Fabio promptly declined, ignoring several further messages from both Tom and Mathilde until he finally gave up and turned off his phone.

The evening was spent with Fabio in tears, wrapped in his softest hoodie, panicking because he had somehow missed the fact that he was in love with his best friend. He knew that he loved Tony, but he didn't realise that he was in love with Tony. How he had managed to miss that one was a mystery to all. His stomach churned with bitter fear, which clawed up the back of his throat, burning like acid. He sobbed until his head was pounding and unconsciousness took hold, still slumped on the sofa, an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, diet be damned.

The next day, he tried to outrun it, 21km until his legs felt jelly and he bent over the nearest rubbish bin to hurl his guts out. Unpleasant, yet somehow more tolerable than the damning weight of his feelings. Fabio stood in the shower for an undetermined amount of time after, his brain wading through years' worth of repressed emotions, trying to find something akin to authenticity to cling on to. He felt miserable. Thoughts swirled through his mind like water whirlpooling down the drain. He watched the glass cloud with steam, breathed in the air, and held his breath. He counted the droplets trickling down the walls, exhaled when he reached ten, gasping through the burn of his lungs, which matched the crack in his heart. Water fell from his hair, down his cheeks, obscuring the tears which were consistent now, streaming down his face, washed away by the shower.

Fabio didn't know what he was meant to do.

He towelled off after, once the water began to run cold. He redressed into something comfortable, forgoing food since unlikely he to keep anything down. His phone chimed from the kitchen counter, hastily turned back on before his run. He ignored it, letting the ring tone become background noise.

*

Fabio sometimes hated his former self, the one who made plans whilst he was feeling extroverted. His friends and he had booked a weekend off ages ago, with the idea of going somewhere hot and sunny, with a boat, good food and alcohol. It was meant to be a relaxing mini break, some time to just be themselves. But now Fabio was stuck between a rock and a hard place - everyone would be able to read between the lines, know that Fabio was completely and utterly head over heels for Tony, who would also be there.

 In summary, he was entirely fucked.

There was a knock on his door, just after his workout, before he could even get out of his sweaty clothes. Fabio sighed, wishing that he could just have a morning off to mope, but alas. He opened it, revealing Tom on the other side, his face stern. It turned out that there was no escaping this. Sometimes, he really wished that Tom were less efficient. 

When they finally met up with the others, Fabio tried everything in his power to act normally, pulling Tony into a bro hug and ignoring the pounding of his pulse. It was easier with the others there, less chance for Fabio to overthink everything he did, so long as he ignored their unsubtle glances. The journey was fine, with most people's attention fixated on either navigation or planning, Fabio managed to zone out and listen to music the entire way there. They had booked out a villa, which was both a blessing and a curse. It meant sharing space with the boys for longer, but also saved the hassle of hotels and Cannes had nice places on Fabio's budget. He disappeared straight to his room when they arrived, feigning tiredness despite the restlessness in his entire body, skipping dinner altogether.

They left early enough the next morning to forgo talking. It wasn't until they settled onto the boat and left the harbour, towels already spread on the deck and jet ski in tow, that Fabio had to consciously worry. He stuck close to Tom, soaking in the sun and lazily keeping track of the threads of conversation, effectively avoiding Tony. It was all going okay, really, until Tony decided to take his shirt off. Suddenly, Fabio was powerless, unable to look away from the miles of tanned skin and muscles it had revealed. His arms were thick, corded with more muscle than Fabio remembered, strong biceps and smooth pecs swelling in all the right ways. In a twisted turn of events, Fabio was delirious with sudden desire, a heat building in his stomach, thoughts of being under Tony, those arms wrapped around him, chest to chest, filling his mind. He licked his lips, tore his gaze away, disgusted with himself. He tried not to make it too transparent, the way he flicked his eyes over every so often, evaluating whether it was him or Tony who had changed. Surely, his body didn't just decide overnight that he was sexually attracted to the younger man. Sure, Fabio always thought that he was attractive, but he wondered whether he had always been so obviously fixated on Tony. 

He really should have stayed at home, told everyone that he was too sick to come.

(Tom probably would have dragged him out of the house himself.)

"-Fabio"

He jerked forward, eyes drawn back to the conversation, smiling sheepishly as a blush spread over his cheeks. He had lost the train of dialogue the minute a certain someone had decided to strip. His friends laughed at him, assuming it was just Fabio being himself, ADHD tendencies and all that. He shrugged, as if to say, 'What did you expect?', his smile self-deprecating. Only Tom continued to stare when the discussion moved on, shooting him an inscrutable look - clearly Fabio wasn't fooling him. Tom had always known him too well.

Now there were two people Fabio had to avoid, with both Tony and Tom being dangerous territory, although for vastly different reasons. He couldn't be alone with Tony, lest he a) did something incredibly stupid or b) was asked a question which he couldn't answer and ended up in an incredibly awkward position. Tom was almost certainly going to lecture him about his love life, which Fabio also wasn't too keen on. 

God truly was unfair sometimes. Putting him in a one-sided love affair with a sport that hated him, made him fall for one of his best friends, and made another best friend the biggest worrier of all time.

Typical.

A stroke of luck meant that Fabio made it a whole two hours before Tom cornered him. Those hours were full of blissful peace and laughter, over too soon. He was lying on a deck chair, eyes shut, soaking up the sun and trying desperately hard not to think. He didn't see the others move across the boat, leaving him alone, perfect for ambushing.

There was a weight on the side of the sun bed. Fabio blinked his eyes open only to squeeze them shut again when he realised it was Tom who was looking down at him expectantly, his gaze burning.

"Fabio", he began.

"No, go away. I'm tired." Fabio whined.

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on with Tony?"

"No."

"Oh, so there is something", Tom badgered, clearly not content with Fabio's want for privacy.

"...no"

"Is this about that podcast?"

Tom raised his eyebrows. Fabio glared.

"No."

"Is there anything else you can say?" Tom asked, long-suffering.

Fabio smirked. Well, Tom just walked into that one.

"Yes", he mocked.

Tom groaned.

"When did you realise?"

"Realise what?" Fabio questioned.

"That you were in love with him, you idiot"

Fabio stopped, stared, squinting at Tim's serious face, the sun haloing around him. Okay, so not joking. Great, did everyone know?

Fabio chucked, humourless.

"Eh, probably the podcast. Around." He answered.

"Jesus fuck Fabio, only then?"

"Ey, shut up. I thought it was a weird crush, a very deep friendship, no?"

"Yeah, but we have a very deep friendship, and you've never felt like this for me!" Tom snapped, tone somewhere between disbelief and annoyance.

Fabio coughed awkwardly and looked away. He could feel his cheeks heat as the silence stretched on.

"Oh my god. Merde. Fabio..."

"Nope, we are not talking about it. Please, Tom", Fabio begged, beyond mortified. This was humiliating enough already, just considering the whole Tony thing.

"You know he likes you, too, right? You two are idiots. It's so stupid." Tom bemoaned.

"He clearly doesn't, or he would have said something."

Tom sighed.

"Maybe he's waiting for you to make a move."

"He keeps dating random girls, so I don't think so. It's not my fault that he isn't interested. Why don't you talk to him instead?"

"Fabio. Bro, come on. You are so not serious about this. You go on that show and spend so long talking about Tony that they have to give it its own titled section, and you still won't do anything. This is ridiculous," he grumbled.

Fabio looked away. Flushed

"What do you want me to say. I didn't know," he whispered, inaudible. He didn't want to talk about this anymore.

"Chéri, stop mumbling." Tom requested, the sweet pet name slipping out, an age-old habit. It did nothing to temper the upset bubbling within Fabio.

"I didn't fucking know okay? I thought it was some kind of weird attraction or jealousy. Maybe a little crush. I didn't realise it was love until after. I mean, I didn't even realise how obvious I've been. Not until it was spelt out for me. On record, I may add. And now everything is fucked and I don't know how to act and everyone knows. And I'm panicking. Fuck, what am I meant to do"

The air deserted his lungs, his breath catching on the way out, making an awful squeaking whimper in the back of his throat as he shuddered through an inhale. He felt like he was burning up from the inside, the walls crushing inwards as he tried to gasp for oxygen for his lungs, which felt like they were collapsing. His vision fogged, blurred, whether by tears or because he felt like he was dying, he didn't know. The overwhelming feeling of dread sat like stone in his stomach, rising anxiety clawing at him.

"Okay. Okay. Fabio, it's okay. Take some deep breaths for me, ok?" Tom soothed, an edge of panic cracking his syllables.

Fabio went through the motions, coached by Tom, tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise. We can work this out, yes. Just treat him as normal. It hasn't actually changed. You've just realised. We all love you the same, ok?"

Fabio nodded, finally able to gasp through a breath, and another. He stared up at Tom with wide eyes, accepted the bottle of water handed to him.

"You coming to grab some food, the others will be out soon?"

Fabio hummed, his stomach churning. He looked away, guilty.

"Maybe in a bit", he said.

Tom smiled gently, patting his cheek, allowing Fabio to lean into it. There was evident concern in his eyes; Fabio overlooked it.

"You need to eat, yes? Promise me?" Tom implored.

"Okay"

Tom smiled, stood up. As he turned to walk away, he looked back at Fabio and called out.

"Make sure to top up your sunscreen or you'll burn."

Fabio hummed; Tom always had been the mum friend, which was why he made a good manager, as annoying as it could be. But he was right, the boys re-emerged a few minutes later with plates of food and beers, and Fabio's stomach rumbled. He closed his eyes, rolled onto his front and considered taking a nap. The warning went unheeded.

His eyelids were beginning to droop when the deck chair unexpectedly shifted again. Someone is sitting down. A finger prodded his cheek, once, twice. He tried to ignore them, but they were persistent, annoyingly so.

"Fuck off, Tom"

A huff. Fabio peeled his eyes open to glare, only to find himself face to face with Tony, not Tom. His heart somersaulted in his chest, and the heat of the sun seemed to ricochet up.

"Fabiooooo", Tony sang, clearly a few beers in.

Great.

Despite himself, Fabio smiled, amused by his friend's antics, his pulse beating double time.

"Can you help me with my sunscreen, please?"

Fabio gulped, glanced between the bottle Tony had produced and the younger man, trying not to fixate on the sculpted abs, his sculpted pectorals, or the 'v' of his stomach with the trail of hair which led into his shorts.

"Why can't you do it yourself?" he asked, just this side of whiny.

Tony stared at him like he'd said something odd, perhaps he had, Fabio thought. It was making him feel weird, shifted slightly.

"Eh, I cannot reach my back"

Fabio considered his options. He couldn't say no without making it weird, and couldn't really say yes without going through hell and potentially still making it weird in the process.

It wasn't like he had much choice.

He sighed theatrically and gestured at Tony to turn around. At least he didn't have to look at his pretty face whilst doing it.

He squirted a dollop of sun cream on his hands, placed it carefully onto the warm, smooth skin of Tony's back, trying not to stare, for his hands to linger.

Fabio bit his lip and began to spread the scream evenly across the younger man's back. He focused on making sure to get all the areas which were usually missed, rather than thinking about who was underneath his hands. Tony's muscles shifted under his fingers, and Fabio traced the ridges of them, eyes glued to the way the rippled, pure, compact power.

He dug his fingers into the deep muscle of Tony's shoulder, accidentally putting more pressure through each digit than he meant to. It made Tony shift, whisper-quiet noises falling from his mouth, a bitten-off moan when Fabio grazed the planes between his shoulder and neck.

"Fuck, you're good at that eh?" He said, looking over his shoulder.

Fabio's cheeks flamed red as he shifted his shorts ever so slightly, trying to ignore his growing interest in the situation. Tony leaned back into his hands.

When his shoulders were completely covered, Fabio reapplied the cream, trailed his hands down his back and sides, trying not to linger, torn between two minds, he wanted to draw it out, but the quicker it was over, the better.

He swiped a hand lower, over Tony's lower back dimples, mouth watering we he pressed a thumb into the divot. Tony exhaled loudly. There was an elastic pull of tension between them, now crackling in the air, a second before lightning strikes. Fabio gulped, gave in to temptation, let his hands stray to the waistband of Tony's shorts, briefly dipping under, running across the hot skin there.

Tony stiffened, stuttered a breath. Fabio withdrew his hands quickly, squeezed his eyes shut.

"Okay, you're done", he said, voice hoarse, too low.

Tony cleared his throat, painfully awkward. It was like a moment had been broken, the tension snapping. Fabio's pulse was pounding against his temples, his hands frozen.

"Thank you. Let me get yours, yes?" Tony asked, eyes turning back to Fabio, something in his voice. Tom's words echoed in his head, 'He likes you too'

Fabio halted, considering. He could test the theory, let Tony touch him, revel in the feeling of strong hands on his body. He could let his head fall back, groan quietly when Tony palmed his neck, always so sensitive. But the risk was too great.

"No, no, I'm okay." He muttered, pulling away from Tony's body heat, the sweat forming small streams down the side of his neck. He looked away.

"Eh, Tom said you needed a top up", Tony argued, eyes wide.

"Yes, well. Tom is lying and he is not my mother", Fabio snapped..

Tony held both hands up in surrender, shooting Fabio an odd look, confused, bordering on hurt, before he finally retreated.

Fabio closed his eyes, exhaled, already regretting his anger. He just needed a second to get over it, to enjoy the last few moments of peace before he knew the boys would harass him into food, jet skiing, and generally being childish. He tried to soothe over the hurt, the aching wound of his heart, too raw and vulnerable, and prayed he could get it together in less than five minutes.

For a moment, he allowed himself to remember the feeling of Tony's firm muscles under his hands, his lingering warmth. The sounds he made were burned into Fabio's brain - a small allowance, one he would probably regret. He desperately tried to ignore the feelings which accompanied the pure desire in his belly, swallowed them down until he felt sick to the stomach. Fabio sighed, practiced a false smile before he stood up, readying himself to join the others, stupid heartache be damned. 

By the end of the day, he had consumed enough beers to briefly forget the muddle of feelings inside him. Drunk enough to shrug off the veil of embarrassment and spend the day bent in two. Laughing so hard his stomach cramped. He ignored the worried looks from Tom, the curious glances from Tony, and tried to enjoy the time he had before he felt like his world was collapsing again.

It turned out that forgoing sun cream was a mistake. One which became more evident when he stripped off in the bathroom to shower, only to hiss through his teeth at the soreness of his back, red and sensitive under the spray of water. Fabio wrenched the temperature control down to cold, forcing himself under until he was shivering.

He winced at every rub of the towel against his skin, skin oversensitive and hot. There was a knock on his door as Fabio pulled on his boxers. Fabio shifted, hissed at the discomfort from his pulling skin, two sizes too small.

He debated for a second. It would be Tom, no doubt. He didn't really want to talk, but Tom was the most persistent bastard he knew. It had been kind of awkward over dinner, and he really just wanted to go to bed. He knew they would have to discuss this at some point.

"It's open", he called, expectantly trudging over to his bed, flopping down on his stomach, not turning to greet Tom as the door squeaked on its hinges. Fabio had claimed the room furthest away from the others on purpose, more privacy, less chance of people disturbing his moping. 

Tom walked in, inhaled sharply. Fabio glanced over his shoulder. Oh, he thought. Not Tom. Tony.

He suddenly became very conscious of the fact that he was clad only in his underwear.

"That's some burn you've got there", he said, approaching slowly, cautious as if Fabio was a wild animal. He moved so he was sitting, watching Tony come closer, a bottle of something clutched in his hands. Fabio hummed in agreement, eyes flicking over Tony's face, his body, unsure where to settle.

"Did you put sun cream on?" Tony asked. Fabio shifted, guilty.

"No"

"You fucking idiot. What's gotten into you? You've been weird all day, this whole trip actually."

There was frustration in his voice, a frown on his face.

"Nothing," Fabio replied, tearing his gaze away.

"Don't lie to me", Tony said. When he was less than a foot away, he knelt in front of Fabio, tapped his cheek. Fabio ignored it, looking down, so Tony grabbed his chin, tilted it up so they could make eye contact. Fabio averted his eyes, tried to escape the grasp. Tony sighed, releasing his chin.

Fabio fell backwards against the bed as he scrambled away, trying to put some distance between them so he could breathe. He bit his lips and winced, hard, as the sheet scratched his back.

He received a raised brow for his efforts, bafflement etched onto the younger man's feature features. Fabio held eye contact for a beat, shifting his legs restlessly. Tony observed him quietly, a steely resolve settled in his eyes, something which rang alarm bells for Fabio. Tony huffed a laugh, clearly something showed on his face. He tapped Fabio's calf.

"Come in, on your front. I have some aloe, it'll help. The burn isn't too bad... well, it won't need any more treatment than this. You are lucky. And if it still hurts, I will kiss it better." Tony said.

To Fabio's mortification, he rolled straight over at the command, barely parsing Tony's words until after, a red flush forming on his cheeks at his friend's joke. It felt almost cruel, all things considered, although Tony didn't know.

"Good", Tony muttered. Fabio barely had time to consider that, the way Tony's voice was husky, and the praise made his heart thump, before there were firm hands on his back. The coolness of aloe vera spread across his shoulders was in direct contrast to the warmth of Tony's hands, the trail of heat he left behind. Fabio snapped his eyes shut at the onslaught of sensations, bit down a whimper.

Tony was careful, meticulous. He slathered on layers of gel, digging his fingers in just right, but always gentle, oh so gentle so as to not hurt Fabio. He was putty in Tony's hands, melting into the mattress with the touch, unable to prevent the way his mind fogged.

He let out a soft moan as Tony ran a hand up the back of his neck, the other on his lower back. Fabio shoved his face into the pillows, felt the way it glowed pink in embarrassment. Even so, he let Tony keep going, kept his eyes closed and tried desperately hard not to shift his hips into the mattress. Fabio lost track of time, only roused at the loss of warm hands on his body. He whined, delirious, and clamped his mouth shut again, mortified.

Tony placed a delicate kiss on his spine, another on his shoulder. Fabio shivered, his brain stuttering to a halt.

"There we go, all better," Tony murmured, his voice gravelly.

"You did so well for me."

Fabio muffled his answering gasp into the pillow, his hips twitching of their own accord.

"Fuck"

Tony moved before Fabio could think, and then strong hands were flipping him over, careful with his back, and pulling him into a sitting position. The younger man crowded against him, almost in his lap, knees bracketing Fabio's thighs. God, Fabio thought, he was so hot. He licked his lips on impulse, relishing in the way Tony's eyes tracked the movement, addicted to the rush of desire, how it prickled his skin. 

The first press of their lips together was gentle, loving. Fabio froze for a beat, his heart racing, and all he could think was 'finally', 'finally'. Then, his brain clicked into gear, the sudden feelings rushing in like a tidal wave. He pushed into the kiss, trying to get as close as possible, allowing Tony to lick into his mouth when he gasped. Fabio didn't think he would ever be the same, not now that he knew the little panting noises that Tony made, the way his biceps flexed when he took off his t-shirt.  

Fabio moaned when Tony broke off, focusing his attention on Fabio's neck, biting marks into his skin, and leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He let his head fall backwards, gasping up at the ceiling as Tony continued, somehow knowing all of the things to make Fabio crazy, the spot behind his ear, how he licked across his collarbone, biting just this side of too hard. Fabio threaded his hands into Tony's hair, brought their lips together again. Every second that passed felt like a dream as he sank into his friend's grasp, revelling in the way they fit together, how Tony kissed like he never wanted to breathe again. God, Fabio was screwed. 

They broke apart, both panting. Tony rested his forehead against Fabio's.

"You're such an idiot", he said.

"Hey!" Fabio scowled, way to ruin the moment. 

"How did you not know that I liked you?"

Fabio frowned, confused. 

"You didn't really make it obvious?"

'Fabio, I've been obsessed with you for years", Tony admitted, his tone amused, but honest.

"But the girlfriends..." Fabio countered.

"Nothing. None of them mattered. I flirted with you loads, I thought maybe you liked me back, but you never responded when I made a move, so I assumed you weren't interested. That it was a game to you."

"A game? What. No!"

"When did you realise?" Tony asked

"That I liked you?"

Tony laughed, shook his head. 

"No, when did you figure out that I liked you?" 

"Um, approximately two minutes ago", Fabio admitted.

Tony gaped.

"Okay, wow. And when did you work out that you liked me?" he questioned. 

"Ah, Mig... The podcast"

"Of course" 

Tony looked entertained, if slightly baffled. Fabio blushed, looked away in embarrassment. He wasn't sure what for, whether it was the amount of time it took for him to work out his feelings or just the foreign admittance of his emotions.

"No, no. It is cute. I am glad, No? Now I can do this," Tony said, before kissing Fabio again, brief and sweet. He pulled away, pressed small kisses to his cheeks, forehead, and nose until Fabio was giggling underneath him.

Tony kissed him properly then, firm and consuming, nipping Fabio's lower lip playfully as he drew back. It made something tingle in his lower belly, somewhere between affection and lust. God, he wanted this man so badly.

"Stay?" He whispered, their lips still brushing together.

Tony smiled, gently, pressed one more kiss to Fabio's cheek and replied.

"Of course, amore"

He silenced Fabio's answering giggle with his lips, playfully pushing him back against the headboard, fully seating himself in Fabio's lap and touching everywhere his hands could reach until Fabio forgot all of his troubles, thoughts consumed instead by the man in front of him.

*

The sun was bright when Fabio woke up the next morning. There was the foreign heat of another body curled around him. Tony, his head tucked into Fabio's neck, lips ghosting his skin in a way that made Fabio shiver on each exhale. The memories of last night came flooding back. Body heat, the soft sheets between them, the hazy head space he always got to when a partner knew how to look after him. The thought made his hips twitch in anticipation as he remembered how Tony easily pinned him down, both of Fabio's wrists encircled by one of Tony's hands, the other on his hip.

The room still smelled like sex.

He inhaled, tried to forget the fact that he now knew Tony was a talker in bed, constantly telling Fabio how well he was doing, how pretty he looked and telling him what to do. Fabio was officially ruined for anyone else; he would be unable to get into bed with another again without thinking about how Tony seemed to implicitly know everything Fabio wanted, the fine line between dominating and caring, being gentle but firm enough that Fabio could take a back seat.

He sighed, leant back against the Italian, tried not the disturb his sleep. 

"Tesoro, stay still for just a second. It is too early," Tony groaned, his voice hoarse with sleep, deeper than usual. Fabio truly was ruined. He shifted again, restless, and pushed his ass into Tony's crotch, enjoying the little sound the younger man made in response. 

"Sorry", Fabio whispered. 

"No, you're not. Fucking tease." Tony mumbled.

Fabio hummed in agreement, rolled over so he could face Tony. 

"You think we can go another round without anyone realising?" he asked, coquettish and coy as he batted his eyelashes at the other man. 

Tony chuckled, but his eyes were dark.

They were late for breakfast. 

They walked into the kitchen one after another; the others already sat at the table, Tom at the coffee machine, fiddling with the buttons. Fabio knew they weren't subtle, but couldn't bring himself to care, not when they all kind of knew anyway. He was well aware of the ring of bite marks encircling his throat, as well as scattered across his collarbones and chest. It turned out that Tony was quite possessive; Fabio didn't mind, had delighted in pressing his fingers to the bruises in the bathroom mirror earlier. 

Tom noticed first, his eyes widening before his face did something complicated, torn between relief and disgust, settling on something like amusement. He fist bumped Tony on his way by, pulled Fabio into a hug, grimacing at the state of his neck.

"Fucking finally", he said, releasing Fabio from his arms and knocking their shoulders together as he turned back to the stubborn appliance. 

Fabio blushed, smiled gently at Tony as the Italian leaned over from where he was grabbing two plates to brush a kiss to his lips.

Yep, Fabio thought, definitely ruined for anyone else. 

[cripplecharacters]

in a story I'm writing I have a character that uses a cane for instability and pain mostly in his legs. There is no specific diagnosis because it's magic based. But he is a superhero that gets his power from a separate magical force, and the part of the power is to enhance all physical ability strength, agility, ect. So would it a) be reasonable for him to no longer require a cane while in the super hero form and b) be officive or harmful in any way for him to no longer use a cane in those instances? I don't want to make it seem as though you can't be a hero or anything like with disabilities.

Thak you for you time and help!

Hello!

If the power is to enhance these attributes (strength, agility, etc.), then would it just be enhancing what's already there? If so, he'd probably still have these issues with his leg.

Personally, I really wish people would stop taking away their disabled character's disability when they're superheros. I've seen a lot of series do this (especially with magical girls-style heroes) and it's really quite unfortunate to see.

Why can't your character be a superhero with a mobility aid? Especially in this kind of situation, where his main problems are pain/instability -- which don't exactly stop him from being a superhero.

I also think that keeping his disability as a factor when he's a superhero opens the door for far more creativity and world building.

For one thing, you can consider how the world/city would react to having an obviously disabled superhero.

How does the media treat him? Do they tend to take a pitying or inspiration porn angle? Do they treat him like any other superhero? Does it change throughout the story? How does he respond to it?

How does the general population treat him? How about the disabled community in particular? I can't speak for everyone but I've always loved seeing disabled superheros. There's something about seeing somebody with your same problems being powerful that's really motivating/inspiring almost. I imagine that feeling would be increased if the superhero in question was real.

How do his teammates treat him (if he has them)? How do his villains treat him?

Keeping your character disabled when they're a superhero opens the door for all these different considerations, which can lead to some great character development/interactions.

Maybe your character's disabled fans put him on a bit of a pedestal and that's something he has to navigate. Maybe the media starts by talking about him in a pitying way or questioning his use/abilities and changes the tune after he wins a tough battle (though I think it'd be nice to have somebody acknowledge that treating him that way was kinda fucked up either eay). Maybe a villain doesn't want to fight him because he's disabled -- would your character take advantage of that in any way? How would they navigate the situation?

I'd really urge you to have him keep his disability/mobility aid as a superhero. It makes the story far more interesting to actually find ways to navigate the situation rather than take the easy way out AND it would be very refreshing to see a disabled superhero that isn't cured by their superpowers.

I'd suggest taking a look through some of our posts on #disability erasure and #disability negating superpowers as well as the helpful posts linked in our pinned post. There's some on disabled superheroes and navigating disability and superpowers that I think you'll find helpful.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[phineasandferbs]

[breaks fingers off] now it's time to scream about the revised series bible

candace now being downgraded to "potential fly in their ointment" 💀 but also 😊

"spurred on by a fifteen year-old girl’s natural desire for control, order and normalcy" CANDACE BABY GIRL 🥺

"needless to say, like most healthy young boys, phineas and ferb have a pet platypus named perry" they're funnyyyyyyy

of course all age refs for p&f are removed in this one

"in terms of character, phineas is who he is, almost more so than any other character [...] since he has no achilles heel he must overcome in order to succeed, his character is not built for story arcs that change and evolve who he is. also, without the seed of self-defeat or self-destruction planted inside him, he has difficulty recognizing it in others. this keeps him focused and optimistic. it also helps make it understandable why he his [sic] baffled by these aspects in others and remains unaware of candace’s negative, self-destructive determination to bust him. phineas truly doesn’t understand why people don’t view life the way he does, but he never judges them for it [...] he is like a used car salesman who actually has the best cars in the world" i'm WEEPING!!! phineas flynn i love you with my whole heart!!! he doesn't have obstacles to success, he doesn't need to grow or change, he doesn't even understand self-doubt, he would never judge anyone for being different from him despite not getting it, he is a 👏 USED 👏 CARS 👏 SALESMAN 👏 WHO 👏 ACTUALLY 👏 HAS 👏 THE 👏 BEST 👏 CARS 👏 IN 👏 THE 👏 WORLD 👏 like my boy will promise you the world, the most unbelievable deal that common sense says has to be a scam but he'll deliver 😭 literally everything to me

"throughout the first season, phineas naturally and organically became more layered and dimensional as different situations and interactions further developed the 'who he is' of his personality" this special show <3333 the way it let itself grow and develop despite its formulaic nature that would make it a no-brainer for it to force it to stay the same

"faced with TWO goals at odds with each other can create a bit of a bump in the road for phineas, but these instances are either VERY quickly resolved or best left to be explored in longer form movies and specials" them explicitly saying we can have angry phineas only for specials and movies like angry!phineas is the fine china we can only bring out when we have guests we want to impress lol

well they didn't fix the misspelling of radar's name but he's still mentioned so a win's a win 🤷

describing ferb as "sphinx-like" precious precious boy 🥰

"he does not actively avoid speaking. he just rarely needs to talk because he and phineas are always on the same page" oh my god,,,,,, ferb doesn't need to speak because phineas speaks for them both [we already knew this] i'm having a breakdown,,,, they are EVERYTHING TO ME

"ferb is the guy who builds the greatest cars in the world, which is the reason phineas has such confidence in his words" oh my fucking god.......................phineas' confidence is rooted in ferb's abilities....... these two....... these two........ also thinking about how this was written while they were writing summer belongs to you where phineas and ferb give a pep talk to candace about believing in herself on the basis that she believes in them and they believe in her so she believes in herself all the while phineas believes in them because he believes in ferb..... oh, i am ill with love i fear

"but to say phineas is actually the idea man isn’t exactly the case. many times, hit with a bolt of inspiration from whatever they both just saw or heard, phineas will announce that HE knows what they are going to do that day, as if ferb had to follow his brother around, bent and broken to his will. the truth is ferb’s always hit with the same bolt of inspiration as his brother" what if you were twins and soulmates but you weren't actually biologically related and were born across the sea from one another but the universe still brought you together...... the most important babies in the world to me forever

"it’s best not to focus on the fact ferb doesn’t talk, though - he just doesn’t. instead, explore the ways in which his silence is a strength" guh i really do love this aspect of the show like the way ferb being very quiet is never treated as a bad thing and here they are explicitly stating it's a strength in the bible because there's nothing wrong with it 🥰

"although his silence could make him SEEM like a second banana, ferb is very much phineas’ equal. in this way, they are a two-headed machine built for making every day count" me when the titular pair of the show are in fact a pair: 🫢 god i love hearing it stated like this though <33333

"unlike phineas, though, who uses these immense powers in service of his positive attributes, candace uses her same powers in the service of her ego, fears, suspicion, paranoia, etc" oh candace, my beloved.... she's just a girl fr

"the point is no matter what Candace’s story is, the fun is to [...] to watch her scream at all the trees to move so she can see the forest" oh candace flynn, my dearly beloved darling girl ❤️ luv this as a summary of her role in the show

"it’s a catch-22 (like getting into sag)." oh they're making industry jokes now, huh?

"we are planning a feature length special in which candace and jeremy share their first kiss under the eiffel tower in paris" FASCINATING! so they were planning to have them kiss there (did we already know this? i feel like dwampy&co may have already revealed this, it feels vaguely familiar). also this being summer belongs to you's only outright mention is making me fond

"mainly, though, candace just wants to be a normal fifteen-year-old girl, and phineas and ferb’s lack of desire to be normal bratty little brothers is an endless source of annoyance for her" she just wants them to annoying brats but instead they're so good that it's even more annoying to her soooo precious

linda flynn-fletcher your odd clubs and classes will always be famous 2 me. iconic and beyond reproach

"on the other hand, lawrence is actually used more than perhaps even originally intended and the stories where he is a more central character show he has developed a sort of fun, absent-minded-professor quality which adds a lot to the episodes in which he appears" and thank god

"perry’s lack of facial reaction (or any kind of reaction, for that matter) when he’s in Pet Mode also holds true for him in Agent Mode" the way this eroded way in times of great love for both the boys and doof many times in the series 🥰🥰🥰 (and i wish it would again with the new eps but that's not what we're talking about rn)

"[perry's] countenance is virtually unbreakable" thinking about perry's look of devastation when doof dumps him in last day of summer and floating

"an agent can’t let his feelings shade his judgment, and it is for this reason that perry will not get involved with a female platypus. he’s too well trained to be tempted, and even though his theme song suggests that the ladies swoon for him, he knows better. it won’t happen. focus elsewhere!" DYING at the thought dwampy had to put this in because disney execs wouldn't stop trying to force heterosexuality on this playpus 😭😭😭 also all i'm saying is not mention of perry not getting involved with a male human........ suspicious that 👀

"perry cares deeply about his 'host family,' especially phineas and ferb, [...] his relationship with the boys is filled with the same unconditional affection as any other pet/owner relationship" i literally feel ILL over how much i love them holy shit

"as for perry’s relationship to his nemesis, dr. doofenshmirtz, [...] what began as a simple archenemy situation has developed into a very complex relationship because they both literally spend almost all day together, every day. they are like an old married couple - who want the other one to die painfully. they are like best friends - but with ray guns and fist fights" crazyyyyy they were perryshmirtz-ing on main in 2008.... also the way it started as simple enemies and became something more organically is truly sooooo special that's why it's the greatest ship <333333

"it’s as if they are both duty bound to be mortal enemies when they are on the clock, but at quitting time they’d hang out and watch videos and travel together" oh my god....... this is actually INSANE. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY WANT TO CASUALLY HANG OUT AND DO SOMETHING SO DOMESTIC AND CASUAL AS WATCHING VIDEOS TOGETHER. WHAT IS A BETTER EXPRESSION OF WANTING TO BE WITH SOMEONE THAN WANTING TO DO NOTHING WITH THEM. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY WANT TO TRAVEL TOGETHER. THEY WANT TO TAKE LITTLE VACATIONS OFF THE CLOCK AND GO SEE THE WORLD LIKE SOME KIND OF HONEYMOON, HUH? WHAT IN THE ULTIMATE ROMANCE IS THIS.............

"it sometimes seems if perry is annoyed by [doof's ineptitude at being evil] to the point of giving doofenshmirtz a hand just to make the game a bit more interesting" imaging perry out here like "i can fix him" while doof is out here like "wait how do i play pool... i guess you'll have to teach me...."

"the bane of Perry’s existence (for reasons other than he wants, sadly)" i think this is referring to how hopeless doof is at evil but i'm taking this as gay. amen.

"doofenshmirtz is basically an evil genius with very poor planning skills or a very stupid man with great planning skills. either way, his plans are often destined to fail even before perry shows up, and the issue quickly becomes how to save doofenshmirtz from his own plan" oh my god the way this literally reads like doof is just bad at evil to get perry to show up and save him........ 🫢🫢🫢

"doofenshmirtz always calls perry “perry-the-platypus” as if he thinks that’s his first name" it's a beloved nickname akin to calling your partner baby when you think about it. change my mind.

"'agent p.,' which is how [monogram] always refers to his star agent" monogram viewing perry as his job, p&f viewing perry the same as if he's another member of the family and doof viewing perry as both who he is and what he is... something is here but i don't have to properly analyze and articulate it

"monogram’s formal but affectionate, boss/employee relationship with perry" thinking about this hard-ass secret agent perry with such a web of people he cares deeply about <33333333333

ah karl back when they spelt it with a "k"

calling vanessa seventeen years old while writing s2 when she turned sixteen this summer in s1......

"[doof's] focus on the evil sciences leaves [vanessa] feeling neglected and misunderstood" BABY GIRL NOOOOOO 😢

okay and they added that isabella is nine years old to the bible at some point like uh??

"while isabella’s crush on phineas surely remains intact, it is touched upon rarely (unlike candace and jeremy) and is mainly used on occasion for shading and coloring her motives. isabella is, apart from ferb, phineas’ best friend, and it is as if that deep bond came first, and, as in real life, isabella matured earlier and the bond deepened to a crush for her sooner. either way, isabella’s disappointment over this is rarely really played up, although the romantic side of their relationship is inched along in small steps every once in a while" this sooooooooo sweet, i love them!!!! sweethearts!!!

"jeremy has a good sense of humor about candace’s odd behavior sometimes, and it even seems to be part of her charm to him. she’s just not like all the other girls" noooo they pick-me'd candace "this shows a more dimensional personality for jeremy than most popular, worried-about-always-looking-cool, hunky guys seem to have" nvm they also pick-me'd jeremy, thereby cancelling out candace's pick-me-ing and making it sweet again ❤️ they're not like anyone else and they're special, that's all!

"buford first appeared as a fairly stereotypical bully, but he has somehow managed to work his way into being among phineas and ferb’s close circle of friends" i am olivia wilde nodding rn

"among his own pals, buford’s best friend is ironically the group’s biggest nerd, baljeet" vs baljeet's paragraph not mentioning buford :( but also still best friend status already confirmed in 2008!!!

"as the first season developed and phineas and ferb occasionally offered help to others, baljeet slowly came to rely on and then expect their help. soon an element of selfish entitlement began creeping into his attitude toward the boys" is it selfish if the boys are happy to give it 😕

the bible talking about how stacy's figure skating "can be explored more in second season" ....uh oh, guess what didn't happen... i do wonder why though!!

"equally sadly, jenny has appeared in only two episodes. she is certainly a character to be developed in the second season where her usefulness in more stories will help evolve and define her traits" oof the way they literally tried so hard to make django and jenny happen but it just wasn't meant to be 🤷

suzy being seen as important enough to merit a character description is wilddddd

"in the show, the tri-state area is almost used as the boundary of the known universe" this is precious to me!!!!!! like yes going to england and the moon is the same thing because it's all outside of the tri-state area

"these three (as yet) unnamed states" oh damn so they were open to possibly naming the states..... interesting..... very interesting....

"the planet earth, in its entirety, is where it all takes place. except when they leave earth - which they’ve done. twice. (phineas and ferb own a milkshake bar at the edge of the cosmos, and candace is actually the queen of the martian people. go figure.)" i love the little jokes they've added it adds a layer of confidence that wasn't previously there which is real great <333

now why is rollercoaster listed as 105 in the loglines

also unfair science fair being 133 vs the redux being 149 in the loglines

also also they definitely skipped some numbers in the loglines i wonder what that means

more leaks!

original show bible (06/08/06)

revised show bible (02/29/08)

[athena-the-undestructible]

Time to finally explain my new OCs

Well to start, I have a duo of characters

The first is a sniper who acts stoic at a distance, doesn't interact much with others and barely thinks about the fact that she's killing other people, it's just a job to her and she will rarely question what she is doing.

Up close she gets really nervous since she's not got any people skills and doesn't want to give the wrong information to the wrong person, plus her fighting style isn't very good up close so she prefers to stay away.

The second is a Knife Wielder with both stabbing and throwing skills. She's got great people skills and can manipulate them slightly and she greatly enjoys the act of killing others.

However she's very oblivious to anything that isn't immediately around her and in general is unable to grasp the bigger picture and of course her knifes are allergic to anything long range.

These two are supposed to be foils to each other although I still gotta develop them a bit like giving them names and more reason to dislike each other.

There is also a story I'm trying to construct around these characters although that's very work in progress and I haven't even got a proper idea of what the latter half or end looks like.

The basic premise is that these two kill each other at the beginning of the story, however both of them wake up the next day as if they'd only suffered a slight injury and a job listing they've both taken without remembering.

So they'll have to work together and it's not going to make them reconcile in any way, these two will still hate each others but in some different angles maybe.

They will also work with two others during these jobs.

The first I'll mention is a woman who wields a revolver and dressed like an MiB agent. She's been doing these mysterious job listings for longer and believes in some overall grand scheme that connects all of these.

She's initially supposed to give off mysterious vibes like maybe she did used to be an agent and she knows more than she lets on although this is supposed to be torn away as the plot moves forwards.

She doesn't have any more information than the other two but unlike them who don't think much further than what's happening to them, she's trying to piece together the grand scheme that she believes she's part of .

Her intense desire to be part of something important and her idealism is also why she has the secret agent theme despite never being part of any secret services.

And then we have the other one, the transgender robot I mentioned in a previous post.

So her cover "story" is being an assassin so dedicated to her career that she invested in cybernetics to improve her skill and become more efficient.

This is a total lie and quite the opposite, she's really a combat android who's been using her earnings to gain the appearance of humanity (hense the whole transgender part since she definitely wasn't a girl before).

She's also the total opposite of agent in that she has zero stakes in these missions and her enthusiasm goes as far as her payment.

This includes her inability to die like humans do which will be relevant and means she can just fuck off at any time.

Anyway that's all of them, I still haven't come up with their names (Once I can't make puns, I start to struggle) so maybe people could suggest them but I hope you enjoy these character concepts and would like to see me develop them.

My brain is also currently falling apart so I may have got something wrong, anyway that's all for now.

[ghostofskywalker]

Anthony Bridgerton's Guide to Accidentally Falling In Love - 6

Anthony Bridgerton/Fem!Reader

Words: 2,328

Summary: Anthony Bridgerton thought it was clear that he does not intend to marry at this point, but still he is plagued by hopeful young ladies (and their mothers) who hope to change his mind. So when he meets a widowed Countess who is burdened by the ton's unkind gossip wherever she walks, the two of them realize that maybe they could be of help when it came to each other's problems.

Note: the ruse is taking shape :) this was a fun chapter to write, hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist • Anthony Bridgerton Masterlist

Dearest Gentle Reader,  

With the social season finally starting to yield early signs of matches, courtships, and other general excitement, there are a few things on the minds of many in the ton, including the rather explosive argument that was witnessed in the hallway of the latest ball, between Lord and Lady Brenton. One would think that they would have found a better place (and time) to air their grievances at each other, especially since the event was being hosted at their residence. But given the glares that Lady Brenton was shooting her husband all throughout the night, I believe it safe to assume that this marriage is not as perfect as they had previously boasted. 

However, a decidedly more intriguing development  is that Viscount Anthony Bridgerton has indeed formed a close friendship with the widowed Countess Y/N Everleigh. They had previously been seen dancing together at Lady Danbury’s ball, but it was this author’s mistake in judging the seriousness of that interaction. In addition to their regular turns about the ballroom floor, the two have been seen promenading together at Hyde Park. It seems that the rest of the Bridgerton family has already accepted the Countess as one of their own, based on the way she was seen laughing and joking with all the present siblings, just before heading off on a walk with the Viscount. One must admit the fact that they make a rather handsome couple, no matter what one’s opinion is on the two as individuals. 

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers

When you had mentioned he might receive more invitations to society events if they had invited you, Anthony thought he understood what that would mean. He could handle a few extra dinner parties, especially if he got to spend that time with a person that was rapidly becoming one of his closest friends. He might even see his sister more often, as Daphne and Simon were of course included on many of high society’s guest lists. 

However, what he failed to expect was the fact that he would be forced to interact with the most stuffy and boring men that the ton had to offer, and that he wouldn’t get to see you for quite as long as he would have liked. 

Like this dinner party, for example. 

“And Viscount Bridgerton, what is your opinion on Parliament’s latest rulings?” 

Not having listened to any of the words that were said in his vicinity for a lengthy amount of time, Anthony just took another sip of the drink in his hand. “I don’t have high hopes, but things could change at any time.” 

Just vague enough to make the others believe he had actually contributed an opinion, the other men laughed and carried on while Anthony’s gaze moved around the room, searching for you. 

It wasn’t long before he found success, watching you speak with Lady Danbury and a few other women, the wives and sisters of the people he was currently forced into conversation with. Well, they were speaking. You were politely nodding as the chatter moved along, but he didn’t once see you open your mouth to contribute an opinion. He had half a mind to give up on social convention and join you in listening to the ladies’ conversation, but he refrained, not wanting to cause any trouble or scandal. Your reputation had started to improve, but it was nowhere near where he envisioned it being when the two of you first struck this deal.

But it seemed that he had not been able to disguise his distracted countenance, because he heard his name once more in the conversation around him. “Bridgerton! Stop staring at the ladies, it’s impolite.” 

One of the other lords laughed. “You know, it’s just one lady he keeps looking at.”  

None of these men would ever admit to reading Lady Whistledown’s column, but they all knew what was being implied. “Good God Bridgerton, get it together!” an older, pot-bellied Baron replied. “There are a whole host of women out there if you’re looking for a wife, who are younger, more innocent than the likes of the Countess, and who wouldn’t poison you for not liking her dress.” 

Rage burned through Anthony’s stomach at those words. Of course he knew what the ton believed, but to say such brazen things at a dinner party in which you were among the guests was unimaginably cruel. “Since when have you begun spreading slander and lies, Lord Jennings?” Anthony asked, trying to keep his ire in check and his voice even. 

“People talk, Lord Bridgerton, as I’m sure you know,” another man cut in, clearly trying to salvage the conversation. 

“I am well aware of that fact,” he responded, silencing the man with a glare. “However, I was simply under the impression that the honorable and titled men of society did not participate in such trivial gossip.”

“Come off it, don’t act like you’re any better,” Lord Jennings replied. “I would have thought you’d be happy to hear the rumors around the Countess, because it takes the pressure off you to actually respond to the questions about your relationship. No respectable member of society would believe you were actually seeing someone like her.” 

It took every bit of willpower to not let his anger show more than it already had. “And if Lady Everleigh and I were to be courting?” 

Lord Jennings laughed as he shook his head. “Then I’d call you a damn fool.” 

“All of you are the ones acting like fools,” Anthony responded evenly. “My relationship with Lady Everleigh is none of your concern, and you would do well to remind yourselves that unkind rumors can be spread about anyone.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and left, heading straight to the carriage that was thankfully still parked outside and not looking back. The whole ride home he seethed in quiet anger at the audacity of the men he had snapped at, and annoyance that he didn’t get a chance to spend a few moments to speak with you properly before leaving. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if he had done the wrong thing, and if your reputation would only further be dragged through the mud because of what he said, despite the fact that you had no idea this interaction had even taken place. 

***

Other events were infinitely more bearable, like garden parties. When Simon and Daphne hosted one at their estate, not only were you at the top of the guest list, but his entire family was invited. 

You had migrated away from the main conversations happening over fresh hors d'oeuvres, and Anthony watched as you sat down on one of the benches facing the lawn, keeping a careful eye on Hyacinth, Gregory, and a few other children as they laughed and chased each other around. And having had enough of this current topic of discussion, he decided to join you. No one at the table said anything as he got up and left, but he did catch Benedict sharing an amused glance with their mother. 

As he stepped into earshot, Anthony chucked to get your attention. “I told you these events were boring.”

”And I should have listened,” you responded, moving over on the bench so there was room for him to sit next to you. “This one is better than most though.” 

“I will make sure to tell my sister that.” 

“Please do, she is a wonderful hostess and I was honored to receive an invitation.”

Before Anthony could respond, Hyacinth stopped in her tracks and waved excitedly at the two of you. “Anthony! Y/N! We’re going to play hide and seek, would you like to join us?”  

Anthony looked over at you before responding to his sister, wanting to let you make the decision. He couldn’t help but smile when he noticed you doing the same. “We would love to!” you called out, getting up from where you stood and making your way over to them. 

“I’m going to be the seeker,” Gregory said proudly, crossing his arms as he stood on his tiptoes to seem taller. “You’ll have until I count to 30 to hide.” 

You nodded, the smile on your face giving way to a deeply focused expression, and what felt like seconds later the call to hide had been made. Taking off in a direction opposite the other children, Anthony didn’t mean to follow you, but soon the two of you were both standing at the edge of Hastings’ sprawling woods.

Upon noticing him, you grabbed his hand and pulled him along, eventually stopping when both of you were standing between two thick tree trunks. “Are you trying to get us caught?” you asked in a hushed whisper. 

“No!” he responded defensively. “We simply had the same idea when it came to looking for the best hiding place.”

You were closer to him than you had ever been before, even closer than when you had danced together. Maybe it was the fact that you were still holding his hand, but something felt different, and he would be lying if he said that he wanted you to move away. 

You huffed, clearly having already gotten into the competitive spirit. “Well the more time we spend here the easier it’s going to be for Gregory to fi-” 

At that very moment, the sound of footsteps could be heard moving through the woods, and it sounded like they were headed towards you. Not even thinking about what he had done, Anthony brought a finger up to your lips, and for a moment after he worried that you would push him away, but it seemed that you got the message about your stakes in the game. The two of you stood there with bated breath, completely still as you tried to gauge how close those footsteps were to discovering your hiding spot. 

And no, Anthony wasn’t thinking about how soft your lips felt against his skin. You were his friend, something he had no intention of changing (no matter what some members of his family seemed to think). 

Thankfully, your worry was nothing but a false alarm in this instance, and a few moments later a gleeful shout echoed through the space as Hyacinth’s hiding spot was uncovered. The two of you looked at each other with an expectant expression as Anthony pulled his hand back from your face, both expecting that your time hidden was coming to a close in the near future as both Hyacinth and Gregory were on the lookout. 

But seconds passed, and then minutes, and you couldn’t see or hear any sign of the two youngest Bridgertons. 

“Did we go too far?” you eventually asked, voice a low whisper as you tried to scan the area without revealing yourself. 

“I didn’t think so,” Anthony responded, peeking out at the small patch of trees around you. “It seems that they just… forgot to come looking for us.”

A bout of laughter escaped your mouth, and despite being quieter than usual, it was just as infectious. Smiles were soon plastered on both your faces as you realized the hilarity of the situation. “I think we should return to the party,” you eventually said. 

Anthony’s expression was severe and his question was delivered with the utmost seriousness. “Wouldn’t we technically forfeit the game?” 

“I think we would technically be the victors, since we were never discovered,” you said after thinking about the question. “And even if we don’t, I don’t mind letting your siblings win just this once. Besides, I don’t want the carriages to leave without us.”

“I am rather thirsty as well.” 

“Now that you mention it, I believe I am too.” 

The two of you walked back towards the party arm in arm, laughing when you saw Hyacinth and Gregory sitting next to Violet, the game of hide-and-seek seemingly long forgotten. “You know,” Anthony leaned in to whisper, while the two of you were still just out of the other guests’ earshot. “Disappearing like that probably helps our ruse a little.” 

“Not in a way that’s proper,” you scoffed, but he could tell you weren’t really mad. “Your mother is going to think the worst of me.”

“If anything, she’ll probably blame me,” Anthony responded, a smile spreading across his face as they finally approached his family. 

Daphne was the first to comment on the sight. “And where did the two of you disappear off to?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at her brother. 

“We were playing hide-and-seek,” he responded, as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world. “I think that since we technically weren’t found, Lady Everleigh and I are the victors of the game. What do we win?” 

Gregory’s eyes turned towards his brother at the moment, but before he could say anything in response, Violet ended any kind of bickering before it even began. “How about the two of you just sit down and have some dessert?” 

At his mother’s suggestion, Anthony turned to where a spread was being set out. Various biscuits, cakes, and other sweet treats were still being arranged on the table, and the two of you were first in line (with the rest of the Bridgerton siblings right on your heels), waiting patiently until the staff had finished setting everything out before diving in. 

“It’s always nice to see them all so happy,” Anthony heard his mother say to Lady Danbury, a sentiment he wholeheartedly agreed with as he watched Benedict and Eloise squabble playfully over the last chocolate biscuit. You had started distributing different treats to Gregory and Hyacinth, as both of them were not quite tall enough to reach through the crowd of Bridgerton siblings to get what they wanted. 

It was moments like this that made him smile the most, and he was grateful that you fit so seamlessly into his life, no matter what the truth of your relationship was.

- end of part six -

series taglist: @maricciardo @imafangirlofeverything @allthegirlsdreamed @captainsophiestark @chrissisheadisinclouds @anxiousgoldengirl @sweatyconnoisseurstrawberry @sky0401 @fallout-girl219 @ifilwtmfc @jackierose902109 @mysticwitchcraftco @galactic3a @pedrosexual @preciousbabypeter

[princess-charlie-of-hell]

Honestly, I’m so happy that I found people who are also anti r@dioapple. It felt like an endless sea of people who love the ship and/or even think that it’s going to be canon because of that fake Viv tweet.

I’ve always been an Alastor x Charlie/Mimzy/Niffty shipper as I can’t even picture him with another man (he clearly hates men so why ship him with one?)

I feel you

Sometimes it feels like everyone ships it, i personally got frustrated and overwhelmed with seeing it everywhere. I blocked it on Tumblr and still see it sometimes because not everyone is able to tag properly

Or in my own post which both were specifically tagged as Charlastor there were people making it about RA despite me tagging one as anti RA and making fun of the ship and the other not even mentioned it all

I don't understand people who believe that it will be canon even with an obviously fake tweet of viv like i think you mean the one which said that Lucifer and Alastor are going to have an old man yaoi arc or something

I honestly don't think they can make them work out unless they take a lot of time to develop their relationship

Like that is the last thing the show needs,we already have multiple canon m/m couples in the hellaverse and instead of making new ones especially a forced on like this they should focus on using the time to focus on female characters who need development

Also I don't think that it makes sense if they end up together, it was shown multiple times that Lucifer is still married and in love with Lilith and that Alastor hates men. I also didn't really saw much chemistry between them

And if i were Lucifer then I wouldn't want to date the guy who dropped a Piano on me,tried to get between me and my daughter ,is manipulating her and touches and locks at her like this , instant red flag

The only thing i could see Alastor desiring from Lucifer is his position as king but he could just marry Charlie instead. As Alastor i would choose her over Lucifer anyway, sorry but Charlie is the more attractive option to a man hating gentleman like Alastor

Talking about it, i also prefer Alastor x female character than any Alastor x male characters like i still ship him with Vox, Angel dust and Zestial, first one because i am curious about their past and how their dynamic was, second because I just find it hilarious and third because i loved how they interact

But that's nothing in comparison to how much i love ships like Charlastor ,Radiorose and Emily x Alastor. it makes me smile thinking about how he interacts with women in general like in the comic where he helped a lamb sinner

Alastor respects women so much while being openly annoyed and disgusted with men,he is for me a misandrist like Adam is a misogynistic, the only men i can think of Alastor doesn't seem to dislike as much is Zestial where i am not sure how he actually feels about him

Once season two comes out i definitely will talk about more things why i hate this ship as i saw something in a leak which makes it even worse but i will wait till the scene actually drops before i talk about it

[faggotbeloved]

Hi!! May I request for a small flashback from S.T.A.R.S. days (according to your 3SA story)? Reader being an absolute sweetheart to Wesker and taking care of him even before their official relationship, making him start to develop his obsession with reader perhaps? I don’t know, I’m dying for some cute little background flashbacks of them two and how sweet and naive reader might have been back then😭😭

Anon,,, I am So. So Sorry. I intended to follow this correctly, but it turned into angst... there's some cute reader scenes in it though trust (the first 3)

Three Steps Ahead | Yandere!Albert Wesker x GN!Reader

5: Hindsight Glasses (20/20) (~3.5k words)

Cw: religious imagery, christianic metaphors, child abuse (wesker children), flashbacks, annoying ass extended metaphors, accidental domestic abuse, mental breakdown, hallucinations (of a sort), body horror, glass shards in palms, blood, stitches, angst, albert is Going Through It

This work does not contain smut but is 18+.

└───────────────────────┘

Albert sat alone in his study, nursing a glass of fine whiskey and flipping through an old book. He’d been doing that more often now. Being around you was a double edged sword: he loved you more than life itself—everything he did was for you since the moment you first met—but now it was tainted. By his own hand.

Albert recalled what you’d said just last week. ‘Is it bad to be happy if you're happy with a bad person?’

No, he wanted to scream, he’s not bad. He’s not remotely bad. Was God bad when he sent the flood? What was he, but a man reaching godhood and sending his own? Damn the promise of the rainbow; this Earth was vile, and you… you were the only creature worthy of making it aboard the Ark.

The rest of the survivors of his plans could find their way above the water and join his perfect world, but you? You would be kept safe and sound where he could watch over you. How was that bad? He was protecting you! Damnnit, you risked your life every day, and now that he pulled you to safety he was ‘bad?’

The book he held snapped shut as he stood, downing four or so ounces of whiskey in one drink. The buzz as it traveled down his throat was grounding, he decided, but not strong enough to focus him elsewhere.

His thoughts stayed on you. They should be on his project, he recognized that, but his mind never seemed to tire of your face. He wondered how much rewriting of your brain it would take in order to get even close to the affection you naturally shared back before he left S.T.A.R.S..

S.T.A.R.S.. Life was so much easier then. Well, perhaps the double life he led was tedious, but he had you completely. Now, you were a shell. You had sex a couple times since he brought you here; they made him feel closer, like he was making progress with you, sure, but so many stinging reminders plagued his head.

First and foremost, you had fallen for someone else while he was gone—you still loved Chris, from what he could tell. Second, you were here against your will; no amount of cuddling and home cooked meals and tiny personal freedoms would change that. Third, you thought he and his plans were inherently evil.

Before, he had your entire personality. Your highs and lows, your utmost confidence, your jokes, your vulnerability… your trust. That was who he fell in love with. Not the version of you that stared at the ceiling and searched for hidden security cameras to ease your unrelenting boredom.

Albert was usually thankful for his impressive memory and strong imagination. It was what got him through separation; replaying every interaction like a comforting movie and imagining what could have been what could be.

Now, it seemed like a curse.

──────────────────────

“Hey, Captain,” your voice called out as you smiled at him. “I made two thermoses of coffee. Want any?”

“Tea is preferred,” he said coldly, but when he saw your deflating shoulders he backtracked, “but I appreciate the sentiment. Very much. I'll drink it.”

“I-It’s alright, Captain, I could give it to—”

“I’d like the coffee, please,” he replied, standing up to take it. It was hot still, too hot, but he swallowed the mouthful regardless and nodded. “It's very good. Thank you.”

Was he lying? Maybe. He never cared for the taste and caffeine was only useful as an addition to painkillers, in his opinion. But he liked hot drinks and could gladly sip a morning tea on some occasions.

Somehow, the coffee you gave him—oh, he hoped that you made it entirely yourself—tasted more tolerable than the usual garbage that comes out of the machine in the break room.

“You're welcome,” you chuckled softly before you left to clock in. He savored the lingering affection in your glance and stowed it away to admire another time.

──────────────────────

The memory was engraved in Albert's mind, a mundane plaque in the vast shrine he'd mentally accumulated. In his brain was a museum; a nature trail with hundreds of instances like that; some were in the form of sticky notes you'd leave on his monitor when he left the room, some were monoliths with your essence engraved on every surface as tiny as it could be.

This specific memory was golden from where the bronze wore down. He found himself going back to it often. It wasn't when he first noticed you, that honor had its place as the very earth he built on. With every step he took down memory lane, he was reminded of that. No, it was when he realized how much he wanted to be the first.

The first person you thought of when wondering who to bring a cup of coffee; the first pair of eyes you see when you come in for work; the first man to marry you; the first in all your lists.

Back then, he cruelly deprived himself of the recognition that he loved you, but he knew what he felt wasn’t sustainable unless he acted on it.

As he walked deeper into the recesses of his mind, he landed on another. Somehow, Jill discovered his birthday. He hated the holiday; it was more a reminder of the decades of abuse by the hands of Umbrella than anything for merriment.

When Albert thought about his birthday, he pictured practicing piano until his fingers locked up, being sent to bed with no food in his growling stomach, and the dull ache that came with being utterly alone in a room full of children your age. He supposed all the Wesker children felt the same in their misery.

Regardless, the image of his birthday in 1997 faded into his mind.

──────────────────────

“Hey, Captain,” you murmured as you rapped on his open door gently. “How’re you feeling?”

Without looking up from his desk where he glared at a couple wrapped presents, he growled out a reply. “Just fine, Agent.”

“You're burning a hole through your desk. That’s good oak, you know,” you teased softly. You grinned triumphantly, as hidden as you could be from Albert’s eyes, as Albert smiled.

After a moment of silence, you continued. “I didn’t wanna ambush you like the others did. I guess I failed, since I'm cornering you in your office. They didn’t mean any harm, Cap. Just wanted to show their appreciation.”

Albert swallowed and motioned for you to sit down. He still didn’t speak.

“I cleaned and polished your gun for you… and I got you this. Birthdays aren’t always a cause for celebration, I know, but… I’m at least a little happy. If not for today, 37 years ago, I would still be a rookie cop doing fuck all to make a real change. You’re a good Captain, Albert. And a good man.”

Albert glanced up, eyes as steely as possible. Unfortunately, you had a knack for getting under his defenses, and you spot the sorrow in his eyes with ease. As you set the wrapped box down on his desk atop the other presents, you decided to say one more thing.

“...We care about you. All of us. Especially me,” you said firmly. “Happy birthday, Albert,” you added as you stood up.

Albert. You said his name. Not Captain, not Wesker, Albert. He wasn't a prodigy with a name heavy enough to turn coal to diamonds, he wasn't the leader of an elite force or even a heading scientist for bioterrorists in his free time. He was Albert.

Suddenly, his hand reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Ah—I’m sorry,” he muttered as he dropped it like hot coal. “I was going to ask if you’d… keep me company. It’s no fun to open presents alone,” he requested weakly, head down in shame.

Brightly, you nodded and moved your chair beside him. “We can open mine last. I’m actually curious as to what those idiots got you.”

──────────────────────

That was the first time you'd dropped all formality and just said his name. He recalled the shape of your lips as you said it, unsure but aware of your power. He didn't want to open presents, truth be told, he wanted to pull you into a hug and bury his face into your chest and hold and be held. It was humiliating.

Albert huffed. He missed you from then right now. You were so precious. He still loved you, of course, but he’d trade anything to go back and bask in the simplicity of your romance for just a bit longer.

He tried to get back to work, idly rotating the whiskey glass in his fingers to occupy his hands, but you crept in and soon his head was in his hands as he contemplated going through another evocation for a brief respite from the gnarled feeling in the pit of his stomach. He settled on a safe one; among his favorites, more frequently visited than others, he noted the first time you said it.

I love you.

You sat with him in the medical bay, bandaging his wounds from his most recent assault. It wasn’t a pleasant fight, nor was it honorable, especially if you knew what he was fighting for. He murdered a man without a weapon, then beat him into the concrete for good measure.

The man in question wanted to ask you out to dinner, but you didn't need to know that. You just needed to know what Albert told you, that he boasted about unspecified abhorrent plans. To Albert, he was telling the truth; infringing on his right to have you was abhorrent.

──────────────────────

“Albert Wesker, how the hell do you find yourself in these situations?” You sighed playfully. “Who was it this time? Actually, don't tell me, I think I see skin cells under your nails. I could try to DNA match.”

“It doesn’t matter. Ah! Careful around my arm,” he requested, referring to the bicep that was slashed open in a careless mistake while guarding against the man's knife. You happened to page him, wondering where he disappeared to after you went to the bathroom.

“It's lucky that you overheard terrorist plans in the same bar the team headed to,” you hummed. “I'm glad you put a stop to it.”

Albert gazed down at your focused face like he was memorizing it (which, he was). “As am I. Thank you, dear, for helping me.”

“Dear?” You echoed playfully. You glanced up briefly, then flushed at his own engrossed expression and bent your head back down to the task. “Well… anything I can do for you, Captain, consider it done.”

A warm silence filled the room. His arm was wrapped and stitched up just fine and the bleeding was minimal, so you turned to his split and bruised knuckles. You cleaned and wrapped them, then put ice on both hands.

“You've got to stop getting hurt like this, Cap,” you directed.

Albert smiled. “Why should I, if it means I have you tending to my wounds?”

After an eye roll and gentle shove (on his uninjured arm), you replied. “Well, we’re burning through a lot of supplies, for one. And for two, I love you too much to meet you here day after day. The smell of antiseptic makes my stomach drop with dread.”

Albert’s mouth fell agape in shock as he had to remind himself to breathe. And you? You just kept working, like you didn’t just skyrocket his blood pressure and heart rate and yet make his entire brain go silent.

“S-Say again?” He asked to confirm your words.

“You're wasting supplies and I love you too much to see you in pain,” you summarized.

After another few moments of stunned silence, he whispered, “You love me?”

You suddenly realized what you'd said. “Ah! I-I mean, in an appropriate way. I care for you. I—”

“I love you, too.”

You froze. The hug you pulled him into moments later strained his stitches on his arm, but he decided not to tell you.

──────────────────────

He took a sweet satisfaction in that memory, knowing that he'd gotten away with murder and you'd confessed to him while you dressed the weapon.

The recollection was a statue; frequently revisited, with a bench in front and a beautiful view of the surrounding environs. Cast in the same bronze as the kind on every plaque was the hug you brought him into.

As he continued down the road, single-mindedly driven by the pleasantry of the last experience, he paid no mind to the sky dimming and the trail growing gnarled and claustrophobic.

He found another favorite, one he didn't recall why he locked away. It was short, much shorter than every other one, but he loved basking in its feeling.

You'd just come off an… endeavor in the S.T.A.R.S. break room on a day everyone was off, and he was more than content to stare at and admire your face and listen to your voice carry on while he was blissfully checked out of cognizant thought.

He could picture you clearly, face close to his and bathed in afternoon sun. Your eyelashes framed your mesmerizing eyes, your lips kiss-bruised and turned up in a contented smile.

Your body was pliant and littered with hickeys that you mandated had to be covered by your uniform. His was faring no better; he'd actually requested a couple bruises to be placed where they'd show above the neck of his shirt.

If Albert could have frozen time, he would have waited an eternity in that moment and still lamented once eternity ended.

Albert was so engrossed in reliving this perfect moment a thousand times over, he didn't notice his mind growing darker, falling down, down, down, and landing with a splash at the bottom of a well so deep he could see the stars in the middle of the day.

No, the warmth of your image overtook the chill that came with the foreboding feeling of a mind slipping; he ignored it simply because he wanted to feel you more.

──────────────────────

“Bee?” you spoke softly.

“Yes, my love?” Albert turned to you, noting your messy hair from your tryst and yet deciding you looked beautiful. He set a hand on your cheek, stroking the contour of your face almost as a form of worship.

Perhaps you were more God than he was. Perhaps you deserved temples built in your name and more people killed for your favor. Perhaps he would find true purpose as your most loyal disciple. Perhaps he could only be happy if he was worshipping you.

He realized you’d been talking.

“—and I’d never want to leave Raccoon City of my own volition, but they kind of need me back home. It wouldn't be for too long; maybe a few years at most.”

What? The memory usually cut off there.

─────── ─── ─── ── ─ ─

No. Stop. Stop, he didn’t want to remember this.

─── ──── ──── ── ─

“Pardon me?” he croaked, sitting up rigidly.

“I’m going to go, I think. I worry that without me—”

“You’re not leaving me,” Albert stated shakily. “That’s what you’re trying to do, isn’t it?”

He felt his breath shorten. “You can’t. You… you’re everything, you can’t leave me,” he said weakly, grabbing your shoulder harshly while tears threatened to pool. "I've never had... you can't deprive me of yourself without warning!"

───── ── ─── ─

He didn’t feel good about this part! He just wanted to—he wanted to remember you! Stop fucking thinking, Albert!

──── ─── ── ─

“What? Al, I’m not trying to leave you. I just need to go home for a while,” you defended, anxiety raised at his volatile response. Why were you scared of him? You had no reason to be! He fucked up, so badly. You—the only person in the world he cared for—were scared of him.

“No! I am your home!” He argued hoarsely, eyes wide with instability. “I’m first, right? I come before them, don’t I?” He should be your home! You were his!

─ ─ ── ─

Albert slammed his fist down on the table beside him—or was it a nightstand? He heard glass shatter. Was it his memory or was it real? It was all real to him.

Stop! Will you stop? I don’t want to relive this!

─ ──

“What the hell is with you, Albert? Get off of me!” You screamed, scrambling up from the bed. As you hurried to dress yourself, he got up too and grabbed your arm.

“Nothing’s ‘with me’! Perhaps I don’t want my partner to leave me for a bullshit reason! You don't appreciate my love like I do yours, is that it?"

─

Why are you doing this, Albert? They won’t love you if you don’t get a handle on yourself. Let them go!

“Fine! Fuck, I won’t go! I’ll stay here,” you cried, wrenching your forearm from his grasp and inspecting the bruise. He hurt you—not as manipulation, just out of panic and anger. He hurt you.

“...oh, no. No, no, no. Darling, I-I’m so sorry. Please. I’m not sure what came over me, I just—”

You looked up at him with fear and betrayal in your eyes.

“No,” he choked out, “No, I'm sorry. Forgive me,” he whispered, finding himself on his knees before you, palms bleeding from the whiskey glass he shattered in his hands.

“I hate you, Wesker,” you growled coldly, peering down at him from your pedestal. “Everything we had is gone.” When were you on a pedestal?

“No, no, no… that's not right. This isn't real. You never said that, darling,” he sobbed. “This must be a—a waking nightmare. You never said that. You never said that.”

“But it is true, isn't it? I hate you. Nothing you do will bring back the version of me that you miss. They're dead,” you said coolly, a sadistic smile as you watched his groveling.

“That's wrong!” He insisted hysterically, running his hands through his hair and slicing his palms further on the follicles. Blood stained his pristine light hair, dripped down his temples, and repelled from his lab coat, ending up in droplets on the floor.

“It's not true, you don't hate me, you don't hate me, you don't hate me,” he repeated over and over, like he was convincing himself. “...right?”

“What do you think, Wesker? Would I be here if I was given the chance? Would I kiss you when you walk through the door if not for the shocks? Would I feel any semblance of guilt if I managed to kill you back at the Estate?” You—no, your image reflecting his insecurities—questioned cruelly.

“You… would,” Albert shook his head, hugging himself to make the bleeding stop. All it did was apply pressure and make rivulets of crimson streak down his biceps. He pulled his knees to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, but his damned imagination.

Luckily, he managed to steer it back into the memory from before and finished the mental scene.

“It’s—Bee, it's alright. You didn't mean to. Just don't do that again, okay? It hurt,” you said softly, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, darling. So, so much.”

You were the first good thing in his life. Why did he react like that to you leaving?

Abruptly, an alert on his computer snapped him out of his breakdown. An alert from you—the real you, not the one his tortured mind devised as a self-destructive punishment. He checked the time. 16:53. He was nearly three hours late for lunch with you. Fuck.

Considering you refused breakfast this morning because you couldn't watch him cook it, you must have been hungry enough to actually alert him.

Without any of the grace he was known for, he grabbed your now-room-temperature food and hurried down corridors into his apartment. He burst in, desperation overtaking him. “My love! I’m so sorry, I got—I was caught up. I’m done for the rest of the day. I need you to hold me.”

You flashed a quizzical glance at him and sat up from where you laid on the couch. “Noted. Are you alright, Al?”

Al. That comforted him, if slightly. “I will be. Hurry and eat, I’ll be in bed.”

─────── ─── ─── ── ─ ─

You slunk into bed a few minutes later, and the moment he felt your weight shift the bed he cuddled into your chest and forced back tears.

To soothe himself, he shifted from the crook of your neck to inhale your scent to your sternum to be surrounded by your chest on all sides. It didn't matter how broad or narrow your body was, he didn't want to lift his face from his body until he was sure he wouldn't cry.

You were all he had. All he wanted, all he needs. How could he live with himself if you didn't want him?

“You'll forgive me, won't you?” He wondered timidly.

You shushed him, suddenly aware of how dire a state his mental health was at. “Forgive you for what, Bee?”

Swallowing thickly, he lifted his head to meet your eyes. “You don't hate me?”

“No, sweetheart, I don't.”

“You said—no, I imagined it, didn't I? You're real. You don't… you don't have to wear any of the collars or bracelets anymore. I'm taking it off, can I have your hand?” He asked urgently, taking off the bracelet like it was poisoning you.

“Albert, you're burning up—oh my god, your hands! Are those open wounds? Why is your hair wet? Is that blood? You—you tried to wash it off?”

“I heal fast,” he muttered, unintentionally tearing the scabs open as he crushed the bracelet in his bloodied palms. “There. No more of that. You can be trained in other ways.”

“Albert! Come to the bathroom, let me clean your hands,” you chastised. “Infection could do bad things to the viruses in your body.”

──────────────────────

As he was led to the bathroom, the memory from earlier of you doctoring his hands returned. He smiled softly and watched you unblinkingly. “I love you,” he murmured, trying hard to feel loved againt, just for his own comfort.

“...I love you too.” It was hesitant, like you were worried it was the truth. And it was. You loved him once more, even after everything. But you resolved to keep your grip on yourself; you wouldn’t aid him in any plans or harm any of your former coworkers.

This time, it was stitches on his hands that ripped as he brought you into a needy hug.

┌───────────────────────┐

Gonna start using this as a little ending ramble lol

This whole chapter was just me experimenting with a lot of things 💔 again anon I'm so sorry i kinda monkeys pawed it... Fluff but at what cost

Anyways this chapter is a little confusing and for that I'm sorry! I was inspired by encephalitis hannigram fics for the reality blurring, the scene in Django with the wine glass shattering for the whiskey glass breaking, Hannibal Lecter's mind palace for the shrine/collection of memories, there's a coraline reference somewhere in there... blehh idk

Maybe this whole chapter is ooc but it's because ummm ummmm let me live my life!!!

Read my other Wesker works?

[forthetaintedsorrow-whump]

The following is simply a suggestion on how a Whump Fight (including writing and art) could be run, to include how to handle equity between whumpers/whumpees, and drabbles/art.  Please feel free to use or discuss or whatever ^^  Bit long, so placed under a readmore:

Art Fight Portfolio -> Whump Fight Portfolio

For Art Fight, I gather that each person has a single simple visual board with a few character's heads and that's it.  The simplicity should be kept. 

Whump Portfolio: Visual board with a few character heads, self drawn or Picrew. Character information includes only:

name and age

whether the character is a Whumper, Whumpee, or both

1 primary whump trope trait (defiant whumpee, cinnamonroll, sadistic whumper, etc). 

1 primary behavior trait (always fights back, meek and easily gives up, etc)

About the player section:

player lists a handful (say, up to 10 for simplicity) whump tropes they really love

Any Hard No's (things you definitely do not want in your gift fic/art) 

And that's it.  I'm not in favor of any character backstory, because that impedes the nature of the fight, which is to enable people to easily 'attack' others, and descriptions like that take a lot of time on the part of the Attacker to read and then tailor their Attack to be that super personal.  I personally wouldn't read them and they'd make me inclined not to participate.  I'm sure others believe otherwise, but I'm in favor of keeping things simple.

I view the purpose of Whump Portfolio is to enable quick gathering of the most primary information necessary to stage an Attack, whether written or visual, without cluttering or overloading participants with a requirement to read pages about each player they attack.

Whump Fight

As for the Fight itself, if someone only has whumpees and no whumpers, that makes it very difficult for interaction.  They become basically a receiver and not a giver, and that's no good.  So, for an equitable fight, every participant must equally give and receive (whump and be whumped).  The first round should start with all participants attacking (whumping) a target of their choosing.  Now for people like me who don't have an established whumper character, that's OK.  You just develop a character on the fly for the purposes of the attack (generic Whumper, if you will).

The Attack goes like this: select a player's character (Whumpee).  Write one or more paragraphs (minimum 1) of Whumper whumping the character in a manner of your choosing. 

Hard Rule 1: You must follow your target’s Hard No's for comfort and safety.

Hard Rule 2: You should use the whump trope trait and behavior trait of your target’s character (Whumpee) to guide your (Whumper’s) interaction with them.

Optional: You may use your target’s trope preferences as inspiration. Points: Quality is subjective.  Therefore, the point system should be well understood and simple to apply.  I imagine something like a list of a number of Rounds (say, between 30 and 60).  Each Round (ex. Round 1) has 3 or more whump tropes (ex. handcuffs, collar, manhandling).  Ex:

Round 1: handcuffs, collar, manhandling

Round 2: gags, whipping, threats

Round 3: stress position, stabbing, sleep deprivation

….etc.

A person gains a point for an attack, and an additional point for every whump trope from the Round that their Whumper performs on Whumpee (their target).  In the case of a conflict with Hard No's we can have a list of alternate tropes to choose from.

For artists, their image should depict in some way, each required trope for the Round to get max points.

In addition to tropes, we can add qualitative items, such as Descriptive Areas:

Environmental descriptions

Physical descriptions

Emotional/mental descriptions 

You get one point for adding a detailed description in each Descriptive Area (say, 4+ sentences in each area.)  For artists, that would equate to:

Background

Clothing/accessories

Facial/posture expressions. 

If artists add a background, go beyond a mere simple shirt and pants outline, and take time to render expressions or posture, they get a point for each of those.

Additional points could be obtained by incorporating one or more of the target's favorite tropes from their Portfolio, because those could be seen as the target’s 'weak points' during an Attack.

I'm not a fan of points for color because that implies other mediums (pen, black and white, abstract) are invalid forms of expression.

After the Attack (Whump) each attacked player has the chance to Respond from the perspective of their whumped Whumpee, following the same Round rules that the Attacker (Whumper) used.  They get a point for the Response, plus points for addressing Whumpee's reaction to each Round trope, and additional points for including detailed descriptions in each Descriptive Area.  Whumpee’s Response wins points for Whumpee's team.

Artist responders may feel they have a bit of a challenge as Whump and Response pictures may be similar to each other, but that's OK if they're similar.

Deconfliction Rule: To avoid, for example, 10 Whumpers choosing the same player to attack at the same time and during the same Round, there can be a first come first served rule.  Players must declare a target before gifting.  This marks the target as ‘under attack.’  A player currently under attack during an Attacker's Round can be marked temporarily ineligible for other Attackers in the same Round (like Round 1) until the Attack is finished and submitted (drabble or art submitted).

This also has the benefit of spreading the wealth by forcing people to Whump (ie, write a drabble/picture for) other players instead of paying attention to only their favorite person.

Each player goes through Rounds at their own pace, so one fast player could be attacking on Round 10 while another may be on Round 3.  This also means that a player may not receive attacks from every single individual Round: Over time, they could receive 2 attacks from players on Round 7, 3 attacks from players on Round 21, and so on.  This is fine. 

A player does not need to Respond to every single Attack.

An Attacker does not need to perform all Rounds on the same receiving player.  The Attacker steps through each Round in sequence with each attack made, no matter who they target.  For example, an Attacker might start Round 1 with player Bob, continue Rounds 2-4 with other players, and then happen to hit Bob again under Round 5.

Players who finish the entire Round list with their Attacks (Whumps) could get a bonus number of points for their team.

Players also get bonus points for their team for completing a number of Responses (Whumpee responses) equal to the total number of Rounds.  (Ex. If 30 Rounds are decided, completing 30 Responses nets you this bonus.)  Players have the freedom to pick and choose which Attacks to Respond to.

Example Flow:

Fight start!

All players must declare a target to Attack on Round 1.  The intent to Attack is marked on the receiver’s (Whumpee’s) board.  Deconfliction Rule: cannot attack the same player already under a Round 1 Attack until that Attack is finished.

Players submit their Attack under Round 1.  Round 1 Attack is now considered finished and marked off on the receiver’s board.  Receiver is now open to further Round 1 Attacks if other players still on Round 1 attack them. 

Players finished with Round 1 Attack may move to Round 2 and attack again.  Deconfliction Rule applies.  Receivers of Round 1 may write Response(s) if desired.

Clarifications: A player can be Attacked at the same time by other players who are on different Rounds, just not by multiple players on the same Round.

Players don't need to Respond to every Attack.

Players who love to whump don't need to Respond (Whumpee's role) at all.  They may simply conduct Attacks (Whumping) on others.

But no players may solely receive.  Players who write Responses (Whumpee POV) must at Attack at least once each time they write a Response.  This is to prevent, for example, a society of 100 receivers to 10 attackers, and only the 10 attackers are doing the heavy lifting (the Whumping).  It's my understanding that there tend to be more people who prefer the role of Whumpee to the role of Whumper.  This rule is in effect to establish a fair playing field.

If a player is solely using the role of Whumper (only Attacking) and another player Attacks them, then that Attacker is in effect role-reversing the Whumper.  This is acceptable in the game.

Age Ratings

Two Options

Keeping at T for Teen, with the understanding that people may be interacting with all ages.

Mutual-user choice.  Whump Profiles marked with R18 acknowledge that they are adult and are willing to accept adult whump Attacks (Mature/Explicit smut, gore, etc), and accept personal responsibility if the Attack isn’t their cup of tea.

These are some logical options for how to handle equity between whumpers/whumpees, and drabbles/art.  Please feel free to use as you see fit.

Whump Fight is basically Art Fight... but for whump! And it not only includes art but also writing and (possibly) GIFs and possibly more!

[oracularvernacular]

neurodiversity and zayne

(again. NO I WONT FREAKING SHUT UP ABOUT HIM GRAH GRAH GRAH GRAH 🗣️)

As a neurodivergent kid who grew up in a constantly loud (though very loving!) household where even minor inconveniences led to lots of yelling (i thought this was normal. recently found out it is not and might've also led to some of my complexes), there's something so nice and perfect about Zayne being quiet without being insignificant. Everything Zayne says holds meaning and is meant to steer you in the right direction without triggering you or scaring you.

Like, I noticed that whenever we play kitty cards, Zayne indulges in the banter like all the others but whenever I make a move, he makes sure to praise it in some way. Whenever the player pats his head, he leans forward and lets us keep stimming, etc.- whenever we touch him, he tells us something new so we could associate that fact with that action and remember it ("there are 42 muscles in the human face," etc. again, this is also him infodumping in a healthy way!).

It's so cool to watch how he's evolved since childhood- like a lot of the stuff he does can definitely be read as mechanisms for working WITH his own neurodiversity instead of against it that he's developed in all those years. Even though he's clearly studied up on how to interact with neurodivergent AND neurotypical people as an adult, the glimpses we do get of his childhood with MC are SO BLATANTLY Autism x ADHD coded it makes me want to break into INFOLD and see where they put the DBT therapist they hired for reference.

Let's just take the snowball seals incident and describe it without using names, okay?

Person A wants to express sympathy towards Person B. Leaves an unexplained box of objects they associate with the incident at their doorstep. Person B takes everything in at first glance, completely misunderstands it, and takes it personally.

THIS IS EVERY AUDHD INTERACTION ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH.

my GOD he's so thoughtfully written!!!! and we all know he puts sooo much effort into making sure his relationship with MC is healthy, and he puts her well being first- which explains so much about how perfectly he navigates situations that could potentially lead to a crashout with her. He's probably read through the whole ADHD section of Akso Hospital archives, bless his darling heart UGHHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!!!! More on this tomorrow I have a chemistry regents and am going to get nearly five hours of sleep. pray for me

zayne li shen save me wahhh my shayla

[bloody-heartstrings]

Hi! I just wanted to ask how you came up with your OC? I've been to create my own, but they always come out cliche. Do you have any tips? (Btw I love your art and oc!!)

Hi, thank you so much!!

Firstly nothing is really cliche in the creepypasta fandom, if you want to make your oc a slasher who kills for the hell of it, then make them a slasher who kills for the hell of it! Have fun!! But if you’re aiming for something more than that and are struggling, I have tips!

A major part of character development is the ‘Why?’. Why are they the way that they are? If they kill without remorse, why? Is it severe trauma, a mental illness, or something else? If they’re like Lexi, and it isn’t their fault, why? Did they fuck up and fall in with the wrong crowd, or are they under the influence of an entity like Slenderman?

Another thing that I used when rewriting Lexi was remembering that this character is supposed to be a person. They come from somewhere, from someone, which both can affect a person greatly. They have hobbies, interests, opinions, imperfections, which can affect the way they see the world, the way they act, the way they see themselves and others.

Finally, if it’s a creepypasta oc, something to heavily consider is how they react to their environment and their actions. In reality, the acts proxies and creepypastas commit are horrendous. Is your character so deranged they don’t give a shit, do they pretend they don’t give a shit to survive, or are they eaten alive every day? Choose one (or other) and combine that with their already established personality. How would they act, how would they interact with others?

For example, Lexi was broody, sarcastic and socially reserved, with a strong sense of justice before being taken. As a result, she is extremely disgusted by her peers and her own actions, is very rebellious against Slenderman and emotionally shuts herself off from people around her.

And remember there isn’t anything wrong with cliche, Lexi herself is cliche if you boil her down! Just have fun with it, it is your character after all. And let me know if you have any more questions ^^

[sincerelyamee]

Will Blobkuna ever make an appearance in the other story paths because I totally see Spices just casually having blobkuna in a jar. For example whenever Spices wants info on a subject that has either been destroyed or censored heavily about certain Jujutsu rituals, techniques, or lost history when he’s being butt Spices just starts shaking the jar, do little experiments on him, or make him interact with people he finds annoying until he gives in. It’s up Spice’s ally and honestly would be super hilarious considering Spice’s would still be petty about that scar he gave them in the main timeline fic and would do those things to get back at him.

Well, this is technically a spoiler 👀 but since there's only a handful of you hanging out with me here anyway… I'll spill some tea.

Yes, Blobkuna will appear in Forever and Some More. I've mentioned Spices and Yuji heading to the Ainu Society to fix the whole Sukuna situation, right? Without giving too much away, let's just say the "solution" involved partially separating Sukuna from Yuji. There were a bunch of conditions, but the gist is: when Sukuna exits Yuji, he manifests as Blobkuna.

And one of Sukuna's conditions was that Spices has to stay with him during the periods Yuji is free. Non-negotiable. So yeah, they have shared custody of Blobkuna. Naturally, he's still an asshole.

By the time the story's present-day rolls around, it's been years since the arrangement started, so they've developed a tolerable "relationship." Sukuna still messes with Spices every chance he gets but he's also become something of a mentor. He teaches Spices jujutsu, clan politics, history, that sort of thing. (His usual advice is just murder them all ☠️ but every now and then, he drops some decent insight.)

Their time together mostly consists of reading, doing research (not on Sukuna, tho, Spices is nice in this timeline 😂), playing board games, eating weird food, and exchanging creative insults. It's their love language, really.

I can't wait for Blobkuna to make his dramatic, semi-feral debut!