#’well this thing is expired what should I do?’ fucking throw it out

[kweenkatsuki-main]

I asked my husband to make lunch and at this point I should’ve just gotten up and made it myself cuz why is this so fucking difficult for him?

[sardonic-the-writer]

—failed recipie

SUMMARY | when quackity fails to make you a cake for valentines day, he's left with a mess in his hands, and your teasing

PAIRING | cc!quackity x reader

WORD COUNT | 1k+

WARNINGS | just sweet fluff! (pun intended)

AUTHORS NOTE | a valentines day gift for one of my friends hehe. hope you enjoyed!!!

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"Dude, I love you. I do. But if I have to sit here another twenty minutes and watch you fail to make a cake, I think I might go insane."

If there was one thing you had learned today, is that Quackity really was shit at baking.

You had been sitting patiently at a wooden table for some time now, a small smile tilting the corner of your lips up as you watched him rush around the kitchen.

Your comment was met with a groan from your flour-stained boyfriend. He simply sent you a glare from behind the makeshift piping bag he had crafted out of a zipblock bag, just getting a smile from you in response.

Quackity had always been mediocre at best when it came to baking—on stream or off. His efforts usually didn't turn out too bad, but they were no gourmet meal either. Put the man under pressure, though? Now that's the real recipe for disaster right there. You should know that thought. After all, you've been sitting at his kitchen table for about an hour now watching him eyeball measurements and undercook a cake so much it just looked like soup.

"Shut up you asshole." Quackitys attempt to bite back a remark at you fell short as a round of giggly laughter peirced through his words. "You can either eat the cake I'be so lovingly made for you, or I can have it alll to myself, pendejo."

"Hey, no offense to your baking skills, but I'd rather eat my own foot than try some of that expired looking frosting you're using there."

"It's—it's not fucking expired!" He threw his hands up with another wild smile just to go and rest them on his hips. With the pink apron he was wearing, he reminded you of an exasperated middle adged mom at the grill for just a moment.

"Oh yeah?" You tilted your head right back at him, barely biting back an amused smile. "What's the date on that milk you used to make it then?"

He rolled his eyes at you, waving his hand in the air dismisivly.

"Who needs to know a stupid expiration date. It's not like it could have been that bad anywa—oh shit."

One peak on the lable at the gallon of milk had him sprinting to the trashcan, practically throwing the cake he had slaved over into it.

"A month!? How can a gallon of milk just sit in our fridge for a month!? And stop—stop laughing at me! Asshole, you knew, didn't you!!"

You could barely shake your head no in response to him as you doubled over with laughter in your chair. You nearly lost it again when you went to gasp for air after seeing the pouty expression overtaking your partners face.

"Sorry for laughing Q." You said, sounding not very sorry at all. 6 just funy when you get flustered."

"Yeah well, so much for that valentines day suprise I was promising you." Quackitys arms crossed themselves over his apron clad chest gumpily as he made his way over to sit next to you, earning a pat on the shoulder from you.

"Hey. Dont worry about it. What's that thing old people say? That its the thought that counts?"

"Not helping."

"Sorry! Sorry." You snickered at the stinkeye he gave you. "Point is, I know you love me. But watching you run around our kitchen trying to make me what I assume was a cake just showed how much you really do."

Quackity scratched the back of his neck sheepishly when you were done speaking. You took the red tint on his cheeks as leftover embarassment from the little frosting fiasco, not noticing how the color had only surfaced when you started to rub your hand up and dwn the length of his back in small circles.

"So, youre not upset about the cake?"

"Nope." You popped the p at the end, making Quackity chuckle.

"Even if chat wasnt there to ruin it this time?"

"Definitely not."

"Oh thank god, becuase I've been wanting to order Chipotle all day."

Quackity laughed when you punched him in the arm, smiling as you let out a fake gasp of offense.

"How dare you Quackity. To think you were doing something nice for me, when all you wanted was a taco."

"Fuck off." He groaned with a smile before falling back into silence.

A beat of silence.

"But can we order Chipotle?"

"Yeah. I'll get the phone."

"Yesss."

[itsanerdlife]

Twisted Love 6

Pairing: Clint Barton x Castle!Reader

Warnings: Death. Tragedy. Loss. Cheating. Spicy, let’s just say that. It’s gonna be spicy.

Oh yeah there’s Smut, like early on. I’m not even sorry.

In a dark world, the one thing you don’t want is to find out the one you trust, who you’d give your life up for, isn’t as faithful as you thought.               When tragedy pulls my marriage apart, at the seams. Everything seems to just get worse from there. Only my husband isn’t going to let things go that easy, I find that out when he drags me back home.                     The only D we agree to, was till Death and that just might be the only thing left.   But for who?

“Who is Sophia?” Frank glares at him.

He storms after his wife.

“I have some things to do today tell T to get ready.” She casually calls back at him.

“Who is Brock?” Frank snarls after them.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Clint demands.

“Don’t worry Shug, I’m stocked up on plan B, Brock wasn’t much for suiting up either.” She laughs lightly, a smug dangerous grin on her lips.

“Excuse me?!” Her father blanches.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Sweets.” He warns her through his teeth.

“Why?” Her head tips, the ruined messy bun completely gone, long strands falling over her shoulder. She slips a step closer to him. “Should I ask who you’ve been coming in while I’ve been away?” Her brown jerks up.

“You don’t get to disrespect me while I’m still leaking down your thighs.” He bares his teeth.

“Oh I walked into the wrong part of that conversation.” Barney groans joining them.

“Someone better start answering my questions!” Her father barks loudly. “Who is Brock?”

“Your daughters boyfriend.”

She shrugs.

“Well actually,” Barney chuckles, she turns to glare at her brother in law. “he was my breakfast date.” He grins with pride.

Y/N shakes her head not bothering to remark on that.

“Meaning what?” Frank wonders.

“Clint killed him. Barney disposed of him.” She rolls her eyes.

“You knew he was a dead man the second he opened his mouth in that club.” Barney shrugs.

“Club?” Franks blinks at them.

“I was working in a club, in lingerie for dollars, daddy.” She beams at her father, proudly.

“This is how we die.” Barney swallows.

“Fuck.” Clint drags his hand over his face.

“If I’m being honest it was a sex club for dollars.” She corrects herself.

“Well it wasn’t for dollars kitten, smallest bill you had was a twenty.” Barney chuckles under his breathe.

Clint glares at his brother.

Frank pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Your mother is rolling in her grave.” Frank grumbles.

“Tell me it’s a lie, Y/N.” Clint sighs heavily, his chest tightening.

“What would be a lie?” She bats her eyes at him.

His jaw clenches, glaring at her. “Don’t play dumb.” He warns.

“Guess I’m just dumb.” She sasses back.

“Tell me it’s a lie anyone else, another man is coming in you!” He yells suddenly.

“Oh fuck.” T appears next to Frank. Who looks to be praying to the ceiling.

She licks her lips, staring back at him. Something dark flashes in her eyes.

“I’m not the only one you’re coming in.” Her voice light like a whisper but packed with a right hook blow.

Frank turns to glare at him.

Barney swallows hard.

“Don’t worry, Clint.” She pats his cheek light with a smug grin. “Plan B doesn’t expire, you can keep pretending you love me, and you won’t have to worry about any repercussions of it.” She steps back, looking to T.

“Be a dear and send like a hundred boxes to Sophia, that should keep her stocked for like two – three months, you know how Clint gets some weeks.” She waves her hand dismissively.

“That’s enough Y/N.” He growls at her.

“We could get divorced.” She throws out, smirking at him. Leaving the four of them shocked and silent.

“Y/N.” Franks warns.

“Easy Kitten.” Barney blinks wildly.

“We said till Death. The only D that will ever end this marriage.” He reminds her.

She shrugs. “You or me, Darlin?”

The seriousness in her voice, the ice cold in her eyes. This wasn’t a ploy to rile him up, to pick a fight. She meant this.

“T get ready, I have something’s to do today.” She smirks at him.

“It’s never a good feeling when you grin like that.” T sighs.

“Just evening the playing field.” She smirks.

With that she turns leaving them. The door of the room she’s staying in closed a moment later.

“Who is Sophia?” Frank snarls at him.

“You are not my issue right now Frank. I have to deal with your unstable, crazy ass daughter!” He heads for his bedroom. “And don’t you think about doing anything she told you too T!” He demands before opening his bedroom door.

“He does realize she will kill me first?” T asks quietly.

“I’ll do it!” Barney volunteers.

“Charles!” Clint calls after his brother.

“He’s long gone.” T calls back.

“What the Fuck is happening in this fucking house!?” Frank demands.

It’s quiet for a moment.

“I fucked up with your daughter and I’m about to repent for my sins… in the worst of ways.” He relies closing the door to his room.

----------

Lights change slowly. Pretty woman, wander around. The music in time with the lights.

Deep black hair, meets the small of her back. Emerald green eyes. Full lips and a pretty face, and body most men would pay to lick.

“Are you a vouyer or just bashful?” She flashes a dazzling and alluring smile.

“Maybe both?” Smiling at her from my seat in the wide leather chair.

“Most vouyers aren’t woman in my experience.” She tucks a strand of hair back.

“Why do men get to have all the fun?” Sipping from my glass.

“Looking to have some fun today?” She offers.

“I was actually hoping you could tell me if you were hiring?” Tipping my head.

“At the club? Yeah, we are. I can grab a manager for you.” She offers with a wave of her hand behind her.

“Please?” I grin at her.

She nods leaving quickly.

“That is not the way I thought that was going to go.” T leans over speaking close to my ear.

“Who said I’m done?” I grin at him.

He shakes his head for a moment. “You planning to fuck your husbands mistress too?” He lifts a brow at me.

A grin on my lips, dragging my bottom lips, shrugging a shoulder.

“I have to know how she’s better than me to steal my husband.” I smirk at him.

“Listen to me.” He snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Do not, you hear me, do not kill this woman in public.” He stares back at me.

“I’m not.” I laugh.

“Yeah lookin like Harley Quinn over there. Like you aren’t ready to snap her neck and parade her body around like Shamo at Sea World.” He rolls his eyes.

“Shamo did it right, he bite off the parts. I could always gift my husband with hers.” I point out to him. He sighs, glaring at me.

“That’s not what you were supposed to take from that.”

“I know” I grin as Sophia and what I can only assume is the manager come towards us.

“Clint going to kill us.” T sighs.

“Fair is only fair.” I laugh.

------------------------------ Everything Peaches 12/8/22 @mo320 @ml7010 @irepeldirt @joannie95 @nunu2888 @coley0823 @rileyloves5 @sexyvixen7 @duckestylez @abschaffer2 @genius2050 @drayshadow @shirukitsune @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @destiel-artemis @hookslove1592 @royal-sunflower @iwillbeinmynest @bellamy-barnes @geeksareunique @fanfic-n-tabulous @spookygrantaire @steel-blue-eyess @mariekoukie6661 @capsheadquaters @bless-my-demons @notyourtypicalrose @lets-talk-about-xyz @loving-life-my-way @shinycupcakebaker @also-fangirlinsweden @stupendous-science @daughterofthenight117 @dandelionsmarkthegrave @physically-a-cheesecake @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​

Clint ‘Destory Me, I’ll Thank You’ Barton: @nickyl316h​

[thesmokingguns]

Peach Picking Chapter Two

Trigger Warning: Mentions of cheating and drinking

Peach POV

‘I hope you’re well, thinking of you and missing you. XX BB’

I saw the text from Ben, slipping my phone into my bag as I sighed, feeling the anxiety headache start to come up, leaving me with a dull thud throwing behind my temples and leaving me with the overwhelming feeling of needing to fix the mess I was getting myself into.

I had been ignoring him for two days, since I had found out something that had crippled me with anxiety.

I should text Sammie before she gets to the party and fill her into the shit show that I let happen in my life. A quick little heads up about how Nikki and I were not in a good place and, oh yeah, some English actor slid into my Dm’s and I have a crush on him like a fucking kid. And can’t stop thinking about him because he makes me feel like myself for the first time in ten years. That was exactly the text message my bestie wanted to get.

Groaning as I threw my head back I wanted to scream This was all too much and I wanted to crawl into bed and not think about the mess that I had made of my life.

“Peach, you ready…wow.” My eyes lifted to look at Nikki, of course not in costume despite heading to a Halloween party, looking at me, “You look great.” He was eating me up and I felt myself growing needy with attention. Loving the way his eyes were only on me as he came towards me, fingers rubbing over my rib cage and around my back, pulling me into him.

And just like that I was melting, eyes looking up at him expecting to see dark pools and an easy smile but instead I saw Nikki and leapt back, shocked at how my mind was wandering and I was putting off things that needed to be dealt with.

Especially since two days ago when Nikki had asked me to help him with something on Instagram, leaving me while he went to go to the bathroom. I wasn’t snooping, a message came in and I clicked on it, thinking I’d message a fan back but instead I found his DM filled with explicit pictures that he was sending and messages that made me shake and feel sick. I had air printed them as I waited for him to come back, hiding them and fixing his issue, locking the phone and tossing it away from me.

He had been cheating on me for months and I wanted to cry over it like a lost girl, tossed to the side but at the same time all I could think was that I was free. And knowing that had made me scared. It made me scared because as soon as I realized what Nikki was doing all I could think about was kissing Ben.

I made myself mourn, pouting around the house being a full brat as I thought several times Nikki was going to strangle me. But this was the end of being this and I wanted to act like I was his. It wasn’t endearing like it had been before and I could feel the exasperation in his tone. And his exhaustion with me was the verification I needed to know he didn’t love me like before.

“Peach, you've been weird lately.” Nikki commented as I sat beside him in the car. I looked at him wondering if he sensed our expiration date coming up or if he foolishly believed in the forever he had sold to me. I stared at him, watching Nikki’s confusion.

“I don’t think we’re in love anymore.” The air got hot and thick in the car, Nikki gripping the steering wheel as he cursed, shaking his head as I folded myself up in the seat, getting ready for his anger.

“Why do you say this shit? Why do you say shit just to get a fucking reaction?” he yelled, palm coming down hard against the wheel as I regretted opening my mouth. The fact we were already pulling up to the valet and couldn’t turn around to have this argument made it that much worse.

He would be mad at me all night, giving me the cold shoulder and making me beg for just a morsel of affection. Emotionally, I couldn’t handle that.

“Nikki-”

“You can be the worst type of brat, Peach. The worst.” he was getting out of the car as I scrambled beside him, rushing inside as I grabbed his arm, trying to cuddle into him as we stepped inside so that I could at least be attached to him and make him love me.

Maybe this was all my fault. Maybe it was me that made it hard to love. Maybe this was all just part of who I was and Nikki had to go to someone else because of my short comings.

“C’mon, Peach, you’re being too clingy.” Nikki shrugged me off as I stood there, eyes narrowing in fury.

I had been so upset before all of this, tears burning in my eyes as I felt my hands go to my sides, tight balls as Nikki calmed himself down and moved his belongings from his jacket to his pants so he could check his coat. My foot came down in a hard stomp as he turned to look at me, my arms crossing as I glared ready to have a full meltdown. Nikki recognized this, I could see in his eyes he knew what was going on.

“Peach…” He was using his kid glove voice with me but I was too furious. Tears too close to falling out as I thought about the last few days and how close to the edge I had been to breaking. Now it was happening. I was being pushed over and I couldn’t stop the fall.

“I hate you.” The words came out so easy. It felt like I was purging something, an emotional release as I took a breath for the first time and tasted the air around us. The salt of my tears stinging my face as I looked at Nikki who seemed confused by what I was saying, “Did you hear me? I hate you.” I wanted him to hurt like I did. I wanted him to know what it was like to be cast aside and unwanted. I wanted him to regret ever hurting me and to understand I was a person who needed love and he wasn’t giving that to me.

I just wanted him to hear me. Just please, Nikki. Hear me.

He rubbed his beard, looking around like there was an audience around us instead of just the two of us hashing out something I should have dealt with already. Nikki’s hand rubbed his beard, a sign he was uncomfortable, trying to assess the situation and figure out what to do.

I wanted to scream and yell, really give him the scene he thought I was doing.

I wanted to talk to Ben about all the things I had been trying not to tell him. To give him the truth about just how trapped I felt. The guilt. Everything,

“You don’t mean that, Peaches and cream. Come here. I’m sorry, Peach. Come to daddy.” I looked at him, hurt that he could think that I was going to come to him.

What delusion was he living in thinking this was going to be okay? This was so far from being okay that I couldn’t comprehend him being okay with thinking otherwise. I shook my head at him, watching line lines appear on his face as he frowned at me. Angry like I was the one who was causing all these problems for us. Like it was me that had done this.

The anger flowed back in.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate-“ Nikki pulled me to him like he had done a thousand times before. Trying to hold me through y tears as I let him hold me, to comfort me. His chest getting wet as I sobbed against him, thinking maybe he understood how mad I was. Maybe he could actually see I was hurting and he cared about that. Maybe he knew that I needed more than what he was doing and-

“You want me to spank you in front of all these people? Put you in your- FUCK!” My knee came up, right in his old man balls as I stepped back, thinking of cracking him in the skull with my fairy wand i was still holding.

Nikki would never change,

“I want you to fuck off.” I stepped away as he reached for me. He was angry now too. Good. I wanted him to be angry.

I had brought all the print outs, pulling them from my drawstring pouch and tossing them at Nikki who looked at them, at least having the sense to have shame across his features as he saw them.

“At least get creative with nicknames, Nikki. ‘My sour lemon girl’, ‘loved last night cherry girl’, and my favorite ‘see you soon, strawberries and cream’.” He was rubbing his face again. He wanted control of this situation, over me and he didn’t know how to get that. The fact he was seeking control over my comfort made me ache. “What is wrong with me, Nikki? What wasn’t I good enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?” He tried to garb me again, knowing that I was touch starved for affection and that I would break down so easy if given a chance. I had to be stronger than him. I had to,  “I just wanted you Nikki. Just you and now. It’s too late. We need…we are…it’s…over.” The sobs took over so I couldn’t speak, wiping at my eyes as I looked at him.

He had broken me. I hope he was happy. I hope he was happy with what he had pushed me to.

“No, you can’t. Peach, they were just flings but you’re my girl, peaches and cream. You’re mine.” Nikki sounded confused, like he had thought that he could treat me like trash and expected me to just stay and say thank you.

I wasn’t going to stand around and be hurt any longer. I couldn’t do that when I had hope of happiness.

I had been ignoring him. Jesus Christ. What was I doing here. I needed to tell Sammie. I needed to find him. I needed to go. I need to…face Nikki.

“Oh Nikki. No. I’m nobodies. And I’m not Peach.” I shook my head, mind thinking of the several things I had circling through my mind.

Did I just break up with Nikki? Did I just do that? What the actual fuck was going on?

And where was Ben?

Ben POV

I was late to the party, which wasn’t something that wasn’t my fault. I had foolishly been waiting for a text that wouldn’t ever come from Sasha, who had been giving me the cold shoulder for the past two days. Nothing had happened and I didn't understand her pulling away.

‘I hope you’re here tonight. I want to talk to you. I miss you.’

Was I laying it on thick? Maybe. But I wasn’t going to back down on her. There was something about her that made me crazy. I knew I wanted to be in her life as more than just her texting buddy and I think Sasha knew it too.

Maybe she was inside already and I could meet up with her. If she wasn’t inside I was going to leave. I would sed her voice memos, make her playlists, keep reaching out as she shut off from humanity.

With Sasha on my mind, I was sliding past the coat room when I saw her. She was dressed in a tight green dress, her blonde hair piled in a neat bun. She was dressed like Tinkerbell which seemed oddly fitting to my Captain Hook. Nikki wasn’t dressed up as he went to go check his coat. Sasha was holding his arm like she wanted a cuddle.

“C’mon, Peach, you’re being too clingy.”Nikki shrugged her off as I watched her, all green with envy in her tinkerbell costume, looking like she was about to dissolve in tears. Instead she did a stomp, glitter flying like magic as Nikki turned to her, watching her pouty face and crossed arms. “Peach…” he was talking to her like she was a child in trouble.

Lurking in the shadows I watched her tantrum, the tears there showing real hurt as she sniffled her nose. She was going to break down.

“I hate you.” Neither of us expected that. I watched Nikki step back like she had assaulted him, Peach doubling down on tears that were now falling. “Did you hear me? I hate you.” Nikki looked around, rubbing his dyed beard to make sure no one was watching this.

I stepped further into the shadows, heart hammering as I watched them. I wanted to coddle and kiss her pout away. Never wanting to see her cry or be upset like this.

“You don’t mean that, peaches and cream. Come here. I’m sorry, Peach. Come to daddy.” The way she looked at him, neglected and hurt as he tried to softly talk to her, will her back into his arms and forget that she had just told him, twice, that she hated him.

But she shook her head. Her disobedience made him scowl and I was afraid things were going to get out of hand. I thought of approaching, whisking her away to diffuse the situation but maybe this was the confrontation she needed. Maybe Sasha didn’t need to be saved but she just needed to use her voice.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate-“ Nikki pulled her to him, I watched her sobbing as he held her against his chest in a way that was so familiar, like he had it a thousand times before. My stomach churned with jealousy as I watched him get to touch and comfort her like I was yearning to do.. Her fairy wings were shaking as she tried to fight him off her.

“You want me to spank you in front of all these people? Put you in your- FUCK!” Her knee had come up and Nikki was bent over as she stood hands at her side, her fairy wand in a fist as she glared.

“I want you to fuck off.” Nikki’s eyes widened and he made a grab for her but she stepped aside, opening the purse she was carrying and going for what I thought was pixie dust but instead was paper. Nikki was covered with white fluttering pages, grabbing one and visibly paling as he read whatever was on the printouts..

She stood there, her eyes filled with tears as he looked at the papers and shook her head. She had been planning this, ready for a moment when she was feeling brace. And she was so brave.

“At least get creative with nicknames, Nikki. ‘My sour lemon girl’, ‘loved last night cherry girl’, and my favorite ‘see you soon, strawberries and cream’.” Nikki was rubbing his mouth collecting all the evidence of his infidelity that she was presenting him with. His expression was less of concern and more of a stoic damage control. No real emotion fluttering across his face. No regret seeping out.. “What is wrong with me, Nikki? What wasn’t I good enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?” He was reaching for her but she was stepping back, “I just wanted you Nikki. Just you and now. It’s too late. We need…we are…it’s…over.” Her words broke her as he looked horrified at what she was saying, not being able to believe it was true.

He was hurt, there was no faking that.

I shouldn’t have been celebrating this but hearing her break up with him was the best feeling in the world. I was watching her free herself and watching her fly.

“No, you can’t.” He sounded broken, confused by this all, “Peach they were just flings but you’re my girl peaches and cream. You’re mine.” But she shook her head, looking at him somber as she stared at him not wavering in her beliefs.

How beautiful it was watching her have her own voice.

“Oh Nikki. No. I’m nobodies. And I’m not Peach.” She turned, Walking away, leaving a trail of glitter in her wake as I watched and waited.

Oh bloody  Hell.

Nikki didn’t chase her or follow her. He should have done that but he was wrestling with something. Looking from where his girl had just gone to the papers in his hand. A grimace on his face as he bunched them up. He headed for the door and I found that strange. Was he so confident that she would come back to him? Seeing what I had just seen I wasn’t sure that she was going to be able to.

I moved through the crowd, looking at Sasha as she sat at a bar, her friend Sammie by her side as the barkeep pushed a sugar free Red Bull at her and three clear shots.

“You don’t drink through you shouldn’t-“ whatever her friend was trying to talk her out of she wasn’t listening. Instead she was throwing back shots. One. Two. Three. Sipping her drink as she grimaced.

It was going to be a very interesting night.

“Peach-”

“Don’t ever call me that again.” there was poison in her words as she looked at sammie, her eyes married for a second before she softened and I watched her face fall, “Please, just…not that.” She was sighing, confused and hurt.

I needed to fix this.

“Well, Tink, fancy meeting you here.” she looked up at me, eyes shining as she shook her head. But there was a smile in her eyes despite her sorrow, “Did you steal my Peter Pan costume theme?” I teased her as she blushed, shaking her head with a smile peeking out.

I had never met her friend before, just knew her from what she told me. Understood how close they were from Peach’s late night phone calls where she would tell me her life story in all the detail.

“So we meet again, Hook.” She was flirting with me. Both of us were very aware of it., “Are you going to offer to buy me a drink?” I looked at the shot glasses and saw Sammie’s eyes narrow, hand going towards the swords that were on her back that I had a feeling weren't props.

“I thought you would want to dance.” She looked at me, head tilting to the side as she smirked, not having expected that from me. But I turned and looked at Sammie, “I’m Ben.”

“Bin Bons.” Sasha snickered at me and Sammie looked at her, eyes narrowing as she looked around for someone, “Can I get another three shots?” The bartender began pouring as she looked at us, “We’re going to make a toast together so you all need to drink with me.” she handed out the glasses, her eyes on mine, “I broke up with Nikki.”

“To new beginnings then.” I tapped her glass, both of us taking a shot, “Now can I get that dance?” I was trying to get her to stop drinking and just away from everything. I wanted her to be able to breathe.

“Excuse fucking me, what the actual fuck is going on here? What the fuck did I miss in the last ten minutes?” Sammie was looking between us as she threw her hands up at Sasha who looked at her. Whatever passed between them in that second made Sammie exhale, “Okay, no more Daddy Sixx. That is…something. But what is Billy Russo doing here?” he motioned to me like I wasn’t there and I knew that this wasn’t the time to talk about it.

“I’m here dancing.” I wrapped my arm around Sasha, pulling her out to the dance floor.

I wanted to ask her  if she was alright, check to see if there was anything that I could do but she was spinning, pressing her ass against me as she danced against me, leaning back as the lights bathed us in neon colors and she sought to forgot whatever was going through her mind.

And I knew better than to question anything. I just needed to dance.

Sammie POV

What the actual fuck was going on? What universe was I living in?

I watched Sasha grind against Ben Barnes, Nikki apparently being broken up with and- I needed to text Izzy the tea about my friend having a messy breakup He didn;t know Peach was dating Sixx because that's all I needed, him to think I was just in it for the old rockstar dudes. I needed to text him and let him know that my best friend had broken up with her boyfriend and was dancing with some younger actor because this was insane but…of course there were ten missed calls from Sixx. Of course he could come to me to make sure his girl was okay.

Maybe I had a smidge of misplaced loyalty to the oaf. But I couldn’t just answer a call from him. Instead I sent him a quick text  to see what he would say. I knew NIkki well enough to know he was good at talking his way out of the bullshit he got himself into.

‘You and Peach broke up?’

‘No. Peach is mad and thinks I cheated on her. She’s been acting weird for a few months. Is she okay?’

I looked up to see Peach grinding on someone, laughing and looking pretty happy. Was she okay or was this just a mask of how she felt? I didn’t know what to say to Nikki so I just didn’t respond, tucking my phone away as I sipped my drink. Peach was infamous for suffering in silence and then eventually she would clue me in on everything with all the details she had been omitting for months. She liked to have her plan laid out and completed.

And Nikki cheating seemed like exactly the sort of things she wouldn’t want to talk about. But that didn’t mean I didn't want to strangle her for so many changes in a short period of time. But if it wasn’t chaos was it really Peach?

Who was this guy who she was dancing with? Who she was flirting with? When did he come into the picture? Was she projecting Nikki cheating with her actually  cheating on him? It didn’t seem like Peach to cheat. But maybe that’s why she broke up with NIkki. Maybe she needed to actually get to live some of her 20’s before they were over.

God, I hope she didn't ask me how to use Tinder. I turned to the bartender, motioning them over.

“I’m going to need something stronger.”

Ben had a very drunk Peach on his back as he walked her down the street, feeling her breath against the back of his neck. Her soft hums as they moved making him smirk as he felt her cuddling against him some more. But he was also very aware of Sammie walking with them looking at them unsure of what was going on but nonetheless not liking it.

“I don’t feel good.” Sasha said as they continued walking on to her condo, “Are we going to your house?” she asked Ben, resting her cheek against his back as she let out a little yawn.

It was almost 4AM and they would have called an Uber if it wasn’t for Sammie assuring them Sasha would puke in a moving vehicle, which she had done pretty consistently everytime that she drank when she was younger. So to avoid the $200 dollar cleaning fee they had spent the last ten minutes walking or in Sasha’s case getting a piggyback ride.

“We’re going to your place.” Ben answered, turning towards her building as she made a sound.Her lips brushing the back of his neck and making Ben shiver as he let out a sigh.

He felt like he wasn’t going to make it through this. Peach was so drunk and extra touchy tonight and he had watched her laugh and be loud and open for the first time. He was eating it up, this happiness and laughter looking so good on her. Plus, the way she had looked when he had offered to give her a piggyback she had been so excited, squeezing his bicep and leaning to close as she asked if he was serious

“How do you know about her condo?” Sammie asked. She didn’t fully understand how much influence this man had on her friend yet and Sasha laughed at this like it was obvious.

“He buys my groceries.” Ben laughed at this, some secret joke that Sammie wasn’t included in, “Joy, Ben’s  a good guy. The worst thing he is going to do is judge you for leaving your teabag in your cup.” She yawned, resting her head against his back, closing her eyes as she hummed to herself.

Sammie watched Ben take off, running as Sasha laughed, throwing her arms out as he spun around. She thought of Izzy and how he would throw out his back if he did that. It would take weeks and a chiropractor  to fix her old man. Maybe that’s  why Peach was so excited. She was getting this younger person. But Sammie also hadn’t heard her laugh like this since they were kids.

Ben was running up the stairs with Sasha squealing on his back. Sammie cursed them both as she thought about shopping at his achilles with one of her swords.

Sasha was grabbing Ben’s hand, pulling him towards her bedroom. Her eyes on his as Sammie looked at them, shaking her head as she saw them.

“Are we all sleeping in the same bed?” Sammie asked. Ben looked up from where he was holding Sasha, his eyes on the blonde who was now dancing away towards the kitchen. She was barefoot and beautiful and Sammie stepped forward now that Sasha couldn’t hear, “She’s been with Nikki a decade.” She warned but ben shrugged his shoulders.

“And she could be with me for a lifetime.” he stepped away as Sammie shook her head, pulling out her phone and seeing all the missed texts and voicemails from Nikki. She couldn’t even imagine what Sasha’s phone looked like.

What a fucking shit show.

Peach’s POV

“Ben, am I going to be hungover in the morning?” I asked, looking over the edge of the bed where he was sleeping on the floor Sammie had made  a big point out of the fact we couldn’t sleep in the same bed, which I understood her point.

He looked at me, those dark eyes pulling me closer as he rolled onto his side, giving me a soft smirk. He had spent the last hour drinking water with me, sitting me on my bathroom vanity and washing off my makeup, talking so close to me than I thought our lips would brush if we pronounced a word with too much lip emphasis.I swirled around him, hungry for him as I floated, my drunk shifting to a buzz.

“I’ll take care of you.” The sunlight was stealing the darkness of the room, morning coming quicker than I had expected. It was the golden hour and as I looked down at Ben I was reaching, his fingers and mine, dancing around each other as we smirked, easy flirtation passing between us like nothing that I had ever experienced before. “Do you want me to sing you to sleep?” he asked as I let our pinkies tangle, holding hands.

“Do you think you could just come into bed with me and we’ll tell Sammie that it happened after we woke up?” He chuckled at me, the creased next to his eyes deepening as I watched him.

“If you want me in your bed when you wake up I’ll get in bed with you. Is that a deal?” I sighed, nodding at him, “Close your eyes, Sasha. Just try to get some sleep, darling girl.” His voice soothed me and I closed my eyes, ready to sleep now.

Nikki POV

The sun was up and Peach wasn’t home.

Had she been serious about breaking up with me? Was she really done?

I called her phone, wanting to slam down my phone when it went right to voice message. It was past her just not answering and now she was somewhere and I wasn’t sure where she was.  I was afraid for her, wanting to keep my girl safe.

I should have gone after her, Peach loves a scene like that. Loves to feel loved. But I had been so horrified being confronted with the evidence of my cheating.I felt sick to my stomach. I got a little attention and made the wrong decision again and again. Peach was my everything, put on this Earth to be my other half. She was the person who I’d wake up at 2AM and listen to me play the bass or hear about whatever project that I wanted to work on. She’d forget about how tired she was and tell me what she thought, giving me feedback and ask me how she could support me.

Peach was great at finding people who wanted to work with me. During the pandemic she had been the one who had talked with publishers and my manager, setting up Zoom interviews and updating my wardrobe so I was ready to face things.

She wasn’t just a needy brat, though I did love that side of her. Loved seeing her big pouts and feeling her crawl against me trying to find comfort in my arms. But she was smart in new ways and some things she would say things or have ideas that made me forget who she was, scared her big ideas weren’t going to have me in them.

And maybe her dreams had gotten too big. Maybe her dreams had stopped including me and she was just looking for an excuse to leave. Maybe it was less about me cheating and just that she was done and it's easier to have a big reason.

Could she have just been having a tantrum or could there be someone else.

“God, Peach, just come home.” I said, sighing as I stepped away from the window and moved towards the bedroom.

Each always came back to me. I would just need to wait.

[altschmerzes]

gang you would not believe the week i am having. extended explanation of my current nightmare under the cut. please understand this is also mid ramp-up to finals season at my second year of law school and still trying to find a summer student position which means one million cover letters and applications.

when i moved to canada i tried to import my car. i did this twice, once by calling a company before i left that does this professionally, and they were like oh don't worry about it. you're fine, you don't need to do anything. i get to the border and the man at the border tells me the same thing. don't worry about it. you're fine you don't need to do anything. i go to the dmv here to try and title my damn car because my registration is expiring and i need to do that. the woman who works there is like oh you needed to import it :) but also get your driver's license first, trust me. okay. i go through the hell process of getting my ontario license. i now have my ontario license. i need to get a safety inspection and two forms from border control. sure. i don't have the first fucking idea how to do this but i'm sure i can figure it out.

fastforward. i got in an extremely minor accident on wednesday. entirely my fault, i was slightly distracted for a moment in stop and go traffic and a like. spider in my sleeve or something bit my arm and i hit the wrong pedal. got a ticket, spent 90 minutes dealing with the cops including the part where one of the cops spent several minutes lecturing me about how he can and should seize my car on the spot because it's registered out of country and i live here and that's tax evasion. i explain that i have been trying to get this dealt with but everybody kept telling me i didn't need to do that or worry about it. he tells me that's not his problem. sure. not his problem. understood. this has now become a problem that Cannot Wait though.

so what do i need to do to get my car registered here? still need those pieces of paper. i can get the safety inspection done at any old canadian tire, which, sure. that's fine. word. so what about the border forms? well. i call the canadian border services agency. i sit on hold for a while, and eventually the man on the phone not only can't seem to fucking comprehend anything i'm saying at first, he then also tells me that the solution to my problem is to drive to the fucking us/canada border, go back to the states, then drive back immediately and get the form then. oh my gd.

so i did that. i make the two hour drive to niagara fucking falls and i tell the us border agent what i'm doing there and he's like you can't do that. you need to export it from the us first or you'll get a five thousand dollar fine. and i'm like. okay. thank you sir. have a nice night. thank gd they give me no issue returning on the canadian side. so i make the drive home. having achieved nothing. nobody has given me any actionable information and the only thing more confusing and complicated than importing a car for personal use in canada is exporting one from the united states. literally on the government website it says 'every export office operates differently' which made me almost collapse into tears when i read it.

last night i decided okay, tomorrow i am calling a professional import/export service to throw myself on their mercy and beg them to help me. i might need to leave the country for a few days to get this dealt with bc it's possible i can't export it except for from us soil. all i am trying to do is follow the rules and every single person at every juncture of this nightmare has given me different, conflicting information.

just had that phone call. the good news: i am not going to need to go to the states for several days to deal with this. some nice lady from a company who does this professionally is gonna do the paperwork for me and has found me apparently the only us/canada border crossing that will let me do the us export shit from this side of the border. the bad news: it is an even farther crossing than the one i drove to yesterday, and i’m gonna have to wait a couple days to do it and then do it immediately, which means missing more class than i already missed yesterday trying to do this. hopefully then it will be sorted.

[sevicia]

Today my mom told me to clear out the fridge so I went and started tossing anything expired into the trashcan til I got to the veggies and asked my mom like "Hey should I throw this out it's kinda squishy" or whatever and she just WOULD NOT ANSWER and kept telling me "But what do YOU think you should do .... ?" and I literally wanted to scream cause HOWWW does she not understand that I am just trying to CONFIRM WHAT I'M DOING. AND ASKING FOR PERMISSION!!!!!!!!! Which I told her!!! Like just thinking about it now is making me upset!!!!

And she just kept TALKING even when I went "Okay I'll just see for myself then" like she'd say "How can you NOT know this? Can't you think for yourself? Do I have to teach you how to do EVERYTHING? What are you gonna do once you live alone? Oh, I guess you don't need to worry about that since you don't even eat this stuff!" OH MY GODDDD. Like that's exactly why I'm asking you! I don't know how to do it, I don't do it often enough to remember, I'm asking you to teach me! You asked me to do it, so I wanna do it your way!

I was just kneeling in front of the fridge absolutely SEETHING like I did not truly know the meaning of that word til today. I wanted to take everything and throw it in the trash and tell her "It's all gone bad. I did it MY way, so if you think I did it wrong, just do it YOUR way instead"

And I don't know! I feel like most people would not get THIS frustrated and upset over something like this but I genuinely just could NOT understand her not understanding my reasoning and it made me wanna lash out! It's happened before when people just REFUSE to explain things to me even after I've asked them to (sometimes BECAUSE I've asked them to), like it makes me so confused and frustrated and UPSET that I just wanna scream as loud as possible!!!

I started stuttering again which I haven't done in like a solid MONTH (I think) but when I tried talking I just could not get the words out smoothly. I was so mad. I wanted to slam the fridge door shut and go to my room and slam that door as well and scream at her to please just fucking TRY to understand me for once the way I try my best to understand her every single day of my fucking life! But I just stayed on my knees and kept repeating "I am well-behaved I don't lash out" inside my head, which has been my go-to whenever I get too close to acting as angry as I feel, and now it's been HOURS and I'm a lot more calm but Godddd it's just so FRUSTRATING !!!!!

[gibbearish]

something kind of. bitter. abt tons of posts from about a month ago being like "anyone daring to even consider the words 'compassion fatigue/burnout' is a piece of shit for trying to assuage their own guilt over not paying as much attention as they should, much less telling OTHER people that it's ok to look away when it's not your place to say that because you're not the victims. 'wah wah my mental health' well at least you're not being bombed so you'd better be thankful you're not in their position. if you're not constantly tortured with graphic visions of genocide then you aren't actually doing your part" vs posts now being like "psa, if you're constantly being haunted by images you've seen and it's affecting your mood significantly, that's not normal and there's a word for that!" like. wow yeah damn if only someone had tried to warn people that this was a thing before it started to set in. such a shame no one did, oh well. and i know it's probably not the same people making those posts, but it still. Feels. and i know i've already made a post to this time before but idc the shift has put it back in my head so i guess take 2 on why i found this so annoying in the first place

it was always with a vibe of like, "this event is so horrible that the regular precautions to avoid compassion fatigue shouldn't apply, fixing it is more important." which. /is/ true in a sense, however those two things aren't actually related in the way that framing that way implies, paying attention doesn't actually /do/ anything concrete that would be lost by taking breaks from consuming news about this. there's the implication that the more people that pay attention, the more people in power will be forced to behave knowing that the world's eyes are on them. but like. this far in, they know everyone's eyes are on them by now, and have decided to proceed anyways. just kind of... looking at them harder isn't going to change anything. and also like.... "when the event is this horrible, why would you be thinking about that instead of putting them first"? because. the more horrible the event. the more. likely learning a lot about it will fuck you up? thats. that seems pretty obvious to me? like. there's more Shit For Your Brain To Torment You With 24/7 if more shit is being done and reported on. the worse something is, the worse it'll make you feel to spend all your time thinking about. yes, some people will be ignoring it because they genuinely don't care, but that doesn't automatically mean the ONLY way to care is to Pay Constant Attention No Matter What.

and like. yes, we should do all we can to help palestinians, but some people act like because we're not being killed and they are, we owe it to them to take on as much of that trauma as we can by proxy? like since we aren't having to go through the actual thing, any negative affects we go through can never compare and are therefore irrelevant, and we should instead only be thankful it's not happening to us. i've said this before but it feels very much like the old "finish your vegetables, there's kids starving in africa" thing parents would say, where it's like. ok, i get that the sentiment behind what youre expressing here is "you should take care to be thankful for things you take for granted, because there are people out there suffering without this," but theres always an implicit "and if you don't use yours right, you're hurting those people by wasting what they could've used" when that just !! doesn't actually follow after the first part, that is not the conclusion you should draw there!!! i would obviously give my leftover vegetables to someone else sooner than throw them away but until warp technology is cracked i am limited by things like distance and expiration dates and stable temperature zones, and i would obviously give my leftover Not Being Bombed to every palestinian if i could but until The Way Reality Works is cracked i am limited by. yknow. the way reality works. abstract concepts like that just arent transferrable without a LOT more direct involvement than just. looking at some posts or not.

and i think that's the crucial thing that bugs me abt both of these is not just that the conclusions they offer are wrong and manipulative, but that the /premise themselves/ are, and they take something HUGE for granted, which is "the thing i want you to do is Right and will Work, therefore i'm justified in forcing you to do it, regardless of any discomfort this causes as it will still have a net positive impact." eating your vegetables is Good for you, so forcing you to eat more when you don't want them is justified, and your reasons for not wanting them don't matter. palestinians have asked us to keep reading and sharing their posts because it helps them, so shaming people for not wanting to is justified, and their reasons for not wanting to don't matter. nevermind that overeating can be bad for you and children are indeed capable of telling when they're full or of having slightly smaller stomachs than the serving sizes their parents dish up, nevermind that they can have food sensitivities or even just /dislike the flavor of something/ and we don't force adults to finish foods they know they dislike, nevermind that compassion fatigue was already an existing concept long before this, nevermind that this is The Mental Illness Website, nevermind that reblogging a bunch of posts with graphic videos that will keep you up all night and be filtered by half your followers anyways doesn't stop fucking BOMBS. it's all we can do, nevermind that it's largely symbolic, therefore if you're not doing it for ANY reason, you are Bad. so do what i say in order to be Good even if it hurts you. it's just such a manipulative, PATRONIZING way of going about things that it just grates at me every time.

[itsmeridadunbroch]

Task Eleven → Intro & Connections

merida dunbroch

Character Information*

The Basics*

FULL NAME: merida dunbroch

NICKNAME: mer, red

GENDER: female

PRONOUNS: she/her

AGE: twenty-nine

OCCUPATION: manager at the redwood hollows parks and recs department

FACECLAIM: riley keough

ORIENTATION: straight

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single

PETS: a horse called angus and a dog named mordu

The Personality*

+ Adventurous, Determined, Independent 

-  Rebellious, Stubborn, No-Nonsense

after arriving in redwood hollow, merida found a role in the parks and recs department. she’s spent her time restoring the town’s parks and other areas that needed a new lease of life and it brought her more happiness  than home ever could. merida is adventurous and determined to be her own person which can lead to her being stubborn at times in the face of  authority and can have her rebellious streak rear its head. like a true scotswoman she doesn’t take any crap from anyone.

merida is a child of the wild, she always has been. she thrives outdoors and has always been someone that bends the rules. fun is a big part of her personality and if she’s not having it then buckle up. freedom is another. merida really exercises her freedom and hates being put into a box or being bossed around and told what to do.

Additional Notes*

has a strained relationship with her mother, she hasn’t spoken to her in years

strong scottish accent present in her voice – may be hard for people to understand at times, especially when she’s angry.

has triplet younger brothers – harris, hubert & hamish

doesn’t speak bear

Wanted Connections*

friends

ex’s

neighbours

work colleagues

lover/crush

besties

hiking buddies

buds from scotland

people she met while travelling

rich people - her family are rich af and merida has likely met them at past events

Wanted Plots / Plot Ideas*

merida and ____ are friends. neither of them have had much luck with relationships so they decide to platonically begin to hookup. it’s fun to explore and get experience with each other without all the expectations and pressure. however, they both start to develop feelings over time, and both assume it’s unrequited.

here one day, gone the next - a previous international relationship where merida was travelling and lived for some time she met _____. the relationship was all consuming and full of sparks, but eventually merida had to go back to scotland a few months later. ______ wanted to try long distance but merida had called things off and was gone the next day. now she’s settled in redwood hollow and look who else is in town, it’s only _____. ((a plot about differences, a whirlwind past relationship, angst of leaving, unresolved feelings and being forced to revisit, relive and resolve said past relationship)) 

we’re the Old Married Couple™ but lmao no we would never date each other. right? right?????!!!?

before sunrise - strangers meet, they have a connection, but it has an expiration date

“i found your box of letters underneath my bed last night and because i’m a nosy motherfucker i decided to read them and it turns out they were all addressed to me and the last one was dated the day you moved out and i’m not quite sure why i thought this would be a good idea but here i am, standing on your doorstep, wondering why the fuck we’re not together anymore”

an arranged marriage between the dunbrochs & ______ family. but like merida’s clearly being stubborn and rebellious and fucking up because she’s upset with her parents still trying to control her life and it’s just two polar opposites but it could be super cute sometimes when she gets super drunk and he picks her up and hold her hair back when he throws up and stays up to give her a glass of water and make sure she sleeps well even though he has a huge meeting in the morning that he should be resting for, and she makes him lil packed lunches for work and has him dancing in the living room to de-stress and holds court at his works parties winning over his boss to give him that promotion but also the angst and the fights and the ‘i didnt ask for this’ and making each other jealous and sexual tension.

Taken Connections*

tbh all merida’s taken connections have now left the rp so she’s wide open for her to get on the map

Other*

One character from the open tag you would like to see taken / added to the Most Wanted page -  from the most wanted page - the lost boys & from the open tag to be added to the most wanted page - sebastian clarke

One Character you want to see a bio for in relation to this specific character - more brave characters #scotlandrepresentation 

[despair-to-future-arcs]

Hey teach you know Hope's peak will just cover up your beat down right? after all even if Nagi did come from the Reserve Course something tells me she holds more value than you.

[X]

Wh-What...? I... I was beaten up and... what... what happen...?!

Wait... Nagi, she was the one that beated me up, didn't she?! That brat! I will get my revenge... *gets into the classroom and Nagi stood at the front of the class*

Oh why hello miss, your up and about - you slept well?

You... how dare you speak to me with that tone?! You have no right to talk to me and for that I will make sure you pay for what you did to me! *rushes over to grab Nagi by the neck but then...*

*suddenly comes out and decks the teacher* TAKE THIS YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING BITCH!

GAAAH! HO-HOW DARE YOU FUYUHIKO, YOU DARE TO STRIKE ME YOU-!

*Pulls a sword at the teacher's neck* Say one more thing and I'll chop your head off...

!!!

So... want to continue on speaking back to me? Remember I am yakuza and I could very well kill ya with a snap of a finger if I want...!

Should I break your fingers, maybe get you to the fucking whore house or should I deal with you myself; many choices...

N-No! Please none of those, I swear I won't do anything!

*As then she gets slap across the face*...

You plan to run away now? Hmph and here I thought I was scared of you...

YOUR FULL OF SHIT LADY, YOU KEEP GOING ON AND ON ABOUT FOCUSING ON MY TALENT - YOU'VE HURT MY BEST FRIEND AND DID SO MUCH TO SCREW WITH HER; I KNOW YOU HATED HER, I KNOW IT!

Ma-Mahiru... think for a moment...!

About what? Letting you stomp all over me, hurt my class and keeping pushing things down...well...!

Then maaaaybe I should start taking some photos of your day that you get publicly shamed by everyone here as you did all of us? I bet the public will love it!

Wh-What...?!

*suddenly an egg gets thrown at her* Wh-Wh-What...?!

*Suddenly more food gets thrown at her by Byakuya, Ibuki and Teruteru*!!!

Keep throwing them, aim at this horrid teacher!

*throws egg after egg* Man, this is totally a good look for you teach!

STOP... PLEASE!!!

*Suddenly flour was dump on her* ...!

Hmm, let's see now I got eggs, flour and I think I'm missing a few more things...

Ah yes yes, I remember; sugar, milk, butter, white sugar and vanilla extract - that be perfect for a cake!

*brings out milk and pours it on her* But darn, seems the milk is expired... clumsy me! My apologies teacher but yet again, I expect this cake to taste horrible!

...

[j-rants-reviews-random-stories]

Andy Grey and the Abbott Mansion Murderer (Part 1)

I had always prided myself on being analytical and cool in the face of fear and danger, but when I was confronted with the real possibility of being trapped in a house with a murderer, that cool facade flew out the window.

“I only write about murder! I don't want to be part of a real murder! I’m too young to die!”

“Diane, you are 70 years old, I’m pretty sure you're past your expiration date”

“What do you know about expiration dates Carl? Your stories expired on the shelves years ago, it's a wonder you were even invited to this convention,”

“I’m pretty sure the only reason people were invited to this was so the coordinator could slowly pick us all off one by one,” I pipe up frantically, in hopes to get the others to shut the fuck up so I could think.

After being a murder mystery novelist for the past 15 years I was thrilled to be invited to this convention, with the chance to meet some of the best writers from the past 50 years, but a couple of things kind of ruined that.

The hurricane that is cutting off all cell service.

The corpses that began showing up.

There had originally been 10 of us at the convention, now only 5 of us were left, potentially 6, but there is a chance that if the sixth is alive, they aren’t on our side.

“And what would you know, I hadn’t even heard of you before coming to this convention, what could you possibly know about murder and the motives of a murderer,” mutters Carl, who I was quickly beginning to despise as the night went on.

“Just because you haven’t heard of me doesn't mean shit,'' I spit at him. “There are 4 bodies and 1 person missing right now, I don't think you should be focusing on how little recognition I've had over the years, maybe more on finding out who is killing us and why they want to do this! In case you haven't noticed, we are trapped here with no cell service until the hurricane calms down which isn’t likely to happen for at least another 12 hours,” I continue. Carl looks ashamed at his actions.

Diane quickly steps in and adds “Yes, but don’t we already know who’s doing it? It's obviously the person that went missing - their body is the only one that hasn't turned up yet, so they are the most likely suspect,”

“Not necessarily,” I reason with her. “Isn’t it the first rule of a murder mystery to throw off the detectives, to create a red herring?”The other four in the room murmur their agreement

“I suppose you're right,” replies Emerson in a quiet voice. She is the only one close to my age, being the youngest here at 22 and me being 28.

Both Emerson and I started writing out murder mystery stories at a young age, catching the attention of publishers before we each reached 18. Before that I had only had recognition on small blog posts as a writer, until I hit the big tims. After my first novel that sold however I was struggling to keep up with sales and demand for new books. This struggle to keep up with popular demand over the years is what made me skepctical of my invitation to the convention at Abbott House.

Many rumours circulated for years, inspiring many of the famous mystery writers invited to the convention, especially Diane.

So far this evening 4 bodies have been found, all displayed the same way as the Abbot family was; throats slashed and a rose stuck in the open stab wound through their hearts. The first victim was found after everyone heard a shrill scream around 11pm, at which time most of us were in our assigned guest rooms. The victims tonight were Christina Stewart, a 45 year old writer who had been topping sales charts for the past 20 years. Colin Dawson, a 37 year old writer from the south who was well known for his detective series inspired by Agatha Christie’s Poirot novels, Luna Harkin, 53 years old from Spain, who specialized in amateur detective novels, and lastly the body of Chadwick Bradbury was found, 68 year old writer who was famous in his prime for his gruesome stories based in the 50’s about women being slain for their organs.

All found dead within an hour, and nobody knows who did it.

[radfae]

the potential protective effects of guns r outweighed by the negatives. having a gun in the house, whether purchased by urself or another, makes u much more likely to get injured or die (murder or suicide) by gunshot. even when attacked by someone else, if u use a gun to try to defend urself u are more likely to be injured than if u had called the cops or ran away. there are numerous studies confirming all this. since 2020 the leading cause of death for 1-19 y/o is guns. women r less likely to buy/use guns anyway, and women are threatened most by men close to them, not strangers, making women even less likely to turn their gun on them. yes criminals can try to find a way to get guns if they’re illegal but we can make it much harder to do so, otherwise what’s the point of laws? ppl murder ppl everyday, should we legalize murder since the law doesn’t stop em?

when australia, the UK, canada, new zealand and norway implemented gun control measures in response to mass shootings, gun violence of all kinds including mass shootings fell dramatically. here in the US, a law in 1994 that banned assault weapons & large-capacity mags lead to a decline in mass shootings. in the decade following the ban’s expiration in 04, mass shootings more than tripled.

the real problem is male violence, i agree 1000%. but easy access to guns makes that male violence so much more extensive & deadly, esp to women (more intimate partners are killed with guns than by all other methods combined) & children (familicide, anyone?). it’s so so easy and so so quick to kill a person or multiple people with a gun. common sense gun laws (universal background checks including at gun shows & private sales, mandatory waiting periods, banning assault weapons & high-capacity mags, raising the minimum age to buy a gun, closing the “boyfriend loophole”, hell we could even throw in a national buyback program) work. a few studies: https://injuryprevention.bmj.com/content/19/1/26 https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/26905895/ https://www.pnas.org/doi/10.1073/pnas.1619896114

i totally agree w/ u that male violence needs to be addressed, along with the necessity of a radical restructuring of society with women in charge and female separatism (add banning males from owning guns too, fuck it). but until that happens, we can do other things to save ppl NOW. don’t let perfect be the enemy of good

…yes, it’s a given that you’re much more likely to die by gunshot when there’s a gun in the house. i never said guns were safe. owning one is a responsibility and involves a level of risk. and a lot of the times people can’t run away, and calling the cops takes time (not to mention common police biases against women, the proletariat, black people, mentally ill/disabled people, etc) that may not be available to a person needing immediate defense. which is why, once again, i’ve said that in the event we do restrict gun access, it would be acceptable as a temporary solution for damage control purposes. i just don’t really think that’s feasible; the government isn’t going to give your guns back after successfully passing a law that so massively benefits them. besides, there’s other things we can do for damage control—upping security levels specifically at schools, making it so that people can’t enter the building as easily without a verification process, bulletproof glass, metal detectors, updating protocol so police don’t sit on their ass and wait for backup when there’s an active shooter on site, etc. those are only ideas off of the top of my head but there’s really a lot more we can do than taking away guns while we deal with the root of the problem

since you provided studies, i might as well throw one out there too:

https://www.ojp.gov/ncjrs/virtual-library/abstracts/gun-ownership-provides-effective-self-defense-gun-control-p-142-149

A follow-up study of rape found that using a gun or knife for protection reduced the likelihood of a completed rape, and using a gun reduced the likelihood of injury to close to zero.

though, we could throw studies back and forth at each other all day—there’s so many out there regarding guns, since it’s been such a hot topic the past so many years. the fact of the matter is that i’m still going to be pro-gun 🤷‍♀️ i went down a liberal rabbit hole a while back and was pretty anti-gun before i was more radicalized and realized it’s a very flimsy solution with a lot of cons that benefits the bourgeoisie a lot more than the common man or woman. it’d probably take a lot to have me revert back

[ishomieokay]

Idolatry (Chapter 2)

18+ 7.1k homelander x hispanic oc, age difference, manipulation, dirty talk, virginity kink, spanking, cunnilingus, verbal humiliation, daddy kink. part 2/?. AO3 link. part 1

Homelander's fooling around with a perky Latina almost twenty years his junior. She's looking for a daddy. He just wants a good fuck, and maybe to mess with Maeve's head. It's not going to end well.

Taglist: @blindmagdalena 🤗

The weather proved to be a challenge. The hollowing wind and the crashing waves, clear signs of an incoming storm, threatened to disrupt the shoot at any moment. As if the passing boats and helicopters didn’t make enough of a raucous. There was a reason why Aura María initially refused to film in location, despite the insistence of Vought executives that the New York Bay couldn’t be properly recreated in post-production. There were just too many variables. It made it difficult for both talent and crew to focus.

They had a permit for filming that expired at midnight. There had been delays and their time frame for shooting was already limited, but Aura María was convinced that they could promptly wrap up their last scene. She gave the crew a fifteen-minute recess and retreated to the back of the set in an attempt to keep her temper. A steaming cup of coffee served to warm up her hands, its bittersweet aroma mingling with the sea air. It was colder than she’d expected. Wrapping her coat tighter around herself, she let the rhythmic motions of the water wash over her. It had been a long night.

"Everything alright?" A voice said, startling her. Aura María sucked in a breath and looked up to find the Homelander hovering a few meters above her.

"Jesus, you scared me,” she said, a hand to her chest. “What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to stretch the legs,” Homelander replied, lowering himself to the ground. As he approached her, his boots made a tip-tapping sound against the damp pavement. “Been quite a day, hasn't it?"

"You can say that again." Aura María made a face, then took a large sip of her coffee. 

"Sure you should be drinking that, missy?” Homelander said, throwing her drink an askance glance. “Your heartbeat's going through the roof as is."

"Uh.” She narrowed her eyes. “You can hear that sort of thing?"

"Sure can do. I mean, your pulse is always dangerously high, but that isn't strange in my experience. Not for filmmakers, anyway."

"It sure is a lovely profession,” Aura María said, absentmindedly. 

Homelander seemed to consider her for a moment. “You could always call it a day, you know? No one would hold it against you. It's been one hell of a week."

Aura María thought about it for a second, but ultimately shook her head. "No, we should stick to our schedule. There's been enough delays as it is. I don't want Mr. Edgar to think I'm stalling."

"Mmn, yeah, well, it's Edgar,” Homelander said, a clipped tone to his voice. “There's no pleasing that old fart. If we stopped shooting because of a tropical storm, he would try to claim you've somehow acquired control over the weather."

Aura María laughed despite herself. "Yeah, he can be a bit... much," she said, and although there was more than one biting comment lingering at the tip of her tongue, she left it at that. She knew it wasn’t always safe to trash talk the boss with co-workers, especially while working for Vought.

Silence followed, and Homelander seemed to decide he’d had enough leg stretching for the night. Something occurred to him, though. “Hey,” he called out to her, hovering mid-air. Aura María looked up in time to see him wagging his finger at her in disapproval. "Lay off the coffee for a bit, kiddo. I mean it."

She felt her lips twitching. "Okay, Dad."

Homelander blinked at her, then shook his head in exasperation. Soon he was flying away, heading towards the filming set. Aura María stood on the bay for a little longer, staring into the dark ocean. Before walking back, she threw the coffee out onto the frost-covered pavement and disposed of the cup in a nearby bin. It was cold already, anyway.

The shooting went smoothly enough once the weather cleared up, and they managed to finish just a quarter before midnight. After wrapping things up, Aura María headed to Homelander's trailer. She did her best to ignore the looks some members of the crew gave her. People had been talking, ever since those photos of them leaving a party together made it to the tabloids. 

Although it wasn’t a written rule, it was generally not well seen for a director to be dating talent, especially in the middle of a major production. Hence the mutual avoidance. Aura María tried her best not to let it sting, aware as she was that it was a reason among many. From the very beginning, she expected nothing from Homelander but a casual encounter, and that had been evident in both her words and actions. To demand anything from him now would have been hypocritical. 

After their short exchange by the bay, Aura María felt like a door had been opened, though. Perhaps she had been too hasty to deem Homelander's interest in her as a fleeting fancy. Even if it was, he probably wouldn’t deny her the pleasure of a nightcap and some good conversation, especially after such a stressful workday. As she climbed the stairs of his trailer, though, Aura María heard the muffled sounds of conversation and paused.

"I don't get it. What do you want with that poor girl?" Said a female voice, and after a moment of pondering on its familiarity Aura María realised that it belonged to Queen Maeve.

"Is that jealousy I hear, Maggie? Cause let me tell you, it looks real fuckin' ugly on you." Homelander sounded irritated, not at all like the cheerful, even-tempered man he pretended to be while in her company. The fact that he didn't wear his masks around Maeve shouldn't have come as a surprise, and yet it did.

"The hell it is!"

"What's this about, then? It's not like you've ever been concerned about my love life before!"

"Get over yourself. I don't give a shit what who you fuck,” Maeve said, and there was such viciousness to her tone that Aura María felt a spike of fear run through her, although she wasn’t even in the room with her.

Uh, good terms my ass, she thought with a frown, these guys hate each other.

“I thought you said you'd learned your lesson. You know, after the last one? No more mudd people - those were your exact fucking words."

"That's your problem? Please. Like you haven't got your own little pet prancing around the tower 24/7."

Then there was a crash, followed by the sounds of struggle. Aura María was suddenly tempted to peek through the window, but she knew better than to risk being discovered. This was clearly something she was not supposed to hear.

“You think I don't realize what you're doing? One day you are exposing me and my beautiful Hispanic girlfriend on national television, and the next you turn around and try to get one for yourself? You really expect me to believe that's a coincidence?"

Aura María felt her stomach drop. Unless Homelander had hit things off with another Latina while she wasn’t looking, it appeared that they were fighting about her. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. They had only gone out once. Homelander and her were barely even a notion, and certainly not a reason to make such a scene. That is, unless Maeve somehow found out that they spent the night together afterwards. The mere thought of it filled Aura María with anxiety.  

"Get one for myself?' ” Homelander’s laughter then was sharp and full of contempt. It didn’t sound like him at all. Even if his temper had slipped once or twice during filming, Aura María had never known him to speak in such a callous manner. “Well, how fuckin' romantic, Maeve. Does Elena know you talk about her like she's some goddamn rescue dog?"

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then, firecracker?"

An unsettling silence followed. Aura María bit into her lip and leaned closer, trying to understand what was happening. She wondered if she should call someone, then quickly realized how futile that would be. There was no one present at the set who would be able to break off a fight between Homelander and Queen Maeve. As a matter of fact, she wasn't even sure if such a person existed. 

"I don't know what fucking body-doubling, weird fear-tactic you're trying to pull here, but it won't work,” Maeve said icily. “Not on me, pal. Not anymore."

"Just listen to yourself, Margaret. Not everything I do revolves around you. Honestly, and you call me a malignant narcissist."

"Go fuck yourself!"

The door of the trailer was pulled open, then, so quickly and with such force that it almost knocked Aura María to the ground. Maeve blinked, stopping just short of literally walking over her. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Aura María braced herself for an onslaught of insults and jealous accusations, but it didn't come. Maeve's eyes on her were soft and almost sad-looking. Aura María wondered if she was embarrassed, knowing that she may have heard their argument. For some reason, she got the feeling that there was more to it, though.

Maeve nodded at her, then walked past her without saying a word. Aura María stared at her retreating figure, a frown etched across her face. She wondered, numbly, what exactly she had just witnessed. Homelander cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him.

"María," he said, and he looked unusually serious. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Aura María had a vague idea of how sharp his power of perception was. She always did thorough research on all her leads, before shooting started. It was only sensical when it came to regular talent, and potentially life-saving when a supe was concerned. She knew that Homelander should have been able to sense her approaching from miles away. Had he been so caught up in his argument with Maeve that he failed to notice her?

"I- sorry, I should have texted you or something," Aura María replied, wondering what she was thinking, showing up unannounced at the Homelander's door. 

When they were on set, she was the one in charge. Whatever she says goes, Stan Edgar had warned everyone when she was first introduced to the crew as Vought's newest director of non-fiction films. Aura María was young, well-mannered, and possessed a gentle beauty that made people label her at first glance as a woman of fragile character. A terrible combination for someone looking to stand out in a field dominated by men. Mr. Edgar, as many before him, incorrectly assumed she would have an issue asserting her dominance, so he took the liberty of doing it for her. It was a while before she had the chance to prove both him and the crew wrong, but she managed.

Aura María was more than qualified for her job and she was ready to stand up to anyone to prove it, even Homelander himself. Once the cameras were turned off, their dynamic shifted, though. He was the leader of the Seven - the face of the most powerful corporation in America and maybe even in the whole world, and she was but one in a wide myriad of its employees. What right did she have to seek him out, to demand his time and attention outside of filming hours, when he already had such a busy schedule?

"I can come back later if it’s a bad time," Aura María said, but Homelander shook his head.

"It's fine, come on in," he said, opening the door wider and gesturing for her to go inside. After a moment of hesitation, Aura María did as she was told. 

Homelander went through the expected motions, offering her something to drink and a place to sit on the couch, making small talk about the day's work. He knew how to be a good host. He was also enough of a gentleman to play pretend with her, despite her poor attempts at concealing her true intentions. They both knew what Aura María was doing there, even if she wouldn't say it out of modesty and pride. She had come to him looking for sex. There was something bothering her, though. When he leaned forward to kiss her, she moved her face away.

"I thought you and Maeve were over?" She said, not quite looking him in the eye.

"Oh, is that what's bothering you?" Homelander asked, and although there was amusement in his eyes, he had the sense not to laugh. He placed a gloved hand over her thigh. "She and I are done. You don't have to worry about that."

"What was she doing here, then?" She asked, crossing her arms. Too late did she realize that her words very much sounded like an accusation, something she had no right to. Homelander was gracious enough not to call her out on it. 

“Who’s to say?” He replied, adding another ice cube to the glass of Bourbon he'd prepared for her. "She’s a strange one, that’s for sure. Maeve. Likes to make people believe that she doesn't give a damn about anything, or anyone. She's actually very passionate, though. Sometimes, too passionate I'd say. It took me some time to understand that."

Aura María frowned. "That's a cryptic answer if I've ever heard one."

"Guess it is." Homelander chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Ah, she's just pissed at me. I mean, I outed her on live TV for the whole world to see. It's not the type of thing you easily forget."

“Uh.” Aura María stared at the ice cubes floating on the surface of her drink, small and perfectly square-shaped. "So, what people say is true?” 

Homelander turned to look at her, his smile placid and easy. "What do people say?"

"That she didn't know what was going to happen in that program. Vought edited the footage in the next screenings - tried to reframe it as something else. I remember. The guys at the marketing department were running around like headless chickens. The official story wasn't terribly creative, as far as I recall. Just… two exes who remained good friends, talking about their love life."

"Right." Homelander was smiling, but the gesture looked bitter and almost sad.

Aura María considered him for a moment. "Why?" She asked, although she had never been one to gossip and he had no reason to confide in her. Suddenly, it felt terribly important for her to know.

"Mmn?"

"Why did you out her?” Aura María was careful not to let judgment slip into her voice. “Don't you know how dangerous that is, even nowadays?"

Homelander’s face twitched and he looked away. At times, there was an almost childlike petulance to him. She'd seen it before, whenever they were delayed by technical problems or he was asked to repeat a scene one too many times. Silence stretched for long enough that Aura María thought he wouldn't answer.

"Maeve was seeing her, while we were dating," he said, finally.

"Sorry?"

"Her girlfriend, Elena.” Homelander was staring through the small window that faced the bay, lips turned downwards. “They’d been together for some time when Maeve and I started dating."

Aura María frowned, taken aback. "What? Seriously?"

"Yep,” Homelander said, and his out-of-place cheerfulness did not serve to mask his resentment, but on the contrary, highlighted it. “I want to say that Elena was the Other Woman, but seeing as she was there first, I guess that would be me."

It was clearly meant to be a joke, but Aura María didn't find it funny. 

"I'm really sorry,” she said. “You guys were together for quite some time. Six years, was it? I guess you must have taken it pretty badly."

"You kidding, right? Longest relationship I've ever had, and it was all a lie,” Homelander replied, taking a large sip of his drink. She would have thought it was a rather unhealthy coping mechanism if she hadn’t known it only contained Diet Coke. “Really messed me up for some time. Anyway, I found out about it that day, before the interview, and I outed her out of spite."

"Six years..." Aura María mused out loud. It always put her off to see how easy it was for people who were in a relationship to hurt each other, often deeply and without remorse. In retrospect, it was probably because she herself had little to no experience when it came to love. "Damn, even if it was a dick move, I honestly don't see how she has any right to be mad at you, after that. If she felt so trapped in her relationship with that woman, she should have just ended it, instead of fucking both of you over.”

"It's more complicated than that. Maeve and I - it wasn't real, at the beginning. It was just for the cameras."

Homelander went quiet, then. He looked unusually stiff and she was reminded, oddly enough, of the Ken dolls she used to play with as a child. Dreamlike pretty and all too easy to break, despite the hard material they were made of. Plastic through and through. He'd probably been aiming for a brief, passing comment. Aura María's expectant gaze was on him, though, so he kept going.

"One night we were at a cocktail party, Maeve had too much to drink. She's always had a problem with that, ya know? The bottle,” Homelander said with a grimace. Aura María wondered, briefly, if that’s why he was so adamant about not drinking himself. “She invited me back to her place and I knew... I knew that it wasn't like her. She'd been acting erratic for some time. But I went anyway because I liked her. Liked her a lot, actually.” 

Aura María rested her chin over her hand, listening intently. Homelander was not looking at her anymore but at some undefined spot on the carpet. “I wasn't, well... I wasn't at a great place either, back then. And I felt like she understood me. She was my friend. I mean, I thought of her as my friend,” he said, and despite all the contempt and the screams Aura María bore witness to earlier, he still uttered the word with something akin to tenderness. 

“Everything around us was just a big fuckin' lie, but hey, at least we had each other. And I thought, would it really be so terrible to make the lie real, just for one night?” He smiled then, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Anyway, the lines just started to get sort of blurry, after that. Like we lost sight of what was real and what was for the press. Looking back I realize that she probably felt coerced into it. By me. By Vought, and the fans. It's always about the fans. And I never suspected a thing because... I just saw what I wanted to see."

Aura María was at a loss for words. Although she was not a Reality Show director by any means, she was aware that most of the time there was little to no truth to the stories told in her documentaries. She worked for Vought, after all. Yet even after years in the filmmaking industry, and particularly in a field that was prone to exaggeration and downright deceit in order to increase ratings, she found she had trouble facing this. Reality and fiction mingled so intimately in a person’s mind that they’d become indistinguishable from one another, and all for the sake of high viewership.

"I... I'm sorry, that sounds terrible,” she said, voice low, as if afraid she would be heard. “You guys went through all that just to what, please the shippers? That’s so fucked up.”

"It's just the price you pay. I guess you're too young to understand that… but you will," Homelander said, raising his glass, and Aura María realized, belatedly, that it was a toast. "For staying on top."

She raised her glass accordingly, unsure how he would react if she didn't. "For staying on top," she repeated and downed her drink in one gulp.

Although he was cleanly shaven, Aura María could feel a hint of stubble as she caressed Homelander's cheek. Even in the darkness, his eyes looked very blue and unusually bright. When he leaned forward to kiss her again, she didn't back away. What's happened? She thought in a daze, as Homelander skillfully undid the buttons of her shirt. She could feel her whole body tingling in anticipation. What has this man done to me?

She had promised both him and herself that it was a one-time thing, and there was no need to further complicate their working relationship. Yet here she was, knocking at his door again, ready to surrender herself to him in the back of a movie set trailer, of all places. Aura María didn't resent the triviality of the encounter. On the contrary, she was grateful knowing that at least for tonight he would be the one to guide her as she explored this part of herself that for so long had remained a mystery.

He would enjoy her and offer nothing else in return, and she wouldn't ask for what he was not willing to freely give. She told herself that she wanted nothing from him but these stolen moments. After such a long period of abstinence, a warm body and some good Bourbon were enough to satiate her appetite.

It was not the promise of release that had drawn her to him, like a moth to a flame, though. It was him noticing her standing alone by the bay, tired and overwhelmed after a long day's work, and caring enough to strike up a conversation. It was the ever-so-subtle concern he'd shown for her health, although they were nothing to each other, and she had no need to have a man fuzzing over her the way he had. Aura María had been on her own for some time and had learned to find comfort in a solitary life. Indeed, she had no need for a man's tender care, and yet she found such heady pleasure whenever he was the one to offer it. 

Homelander pulled her bra down, letting her breasts hang free. He licked his lips, staring at them with an unusual level of attention. Aura María struggled not to preen. She knew they were nice - bigger than average, round-shaped, and with little pink nipples. Back in her middle school days, she hadn't appreciated them as much, as she'd developed earlier than all her classmates and that often made her the object of teasing remarks. Her mother hadn't helped matters, always making comments about her not covering herself properly, even while inside the house. Her body had been a source of embarrassment back then. Now Aura María was a grown woman, though, and somewhere along the line, it had turned into a reason for pride.

Homelander buried his face between her breasts, taking a deep breath. Aura María ran her fingers through his hair, swallowing hard. She'd never felt desired before, or at least not in this manner. Men were usually able to sense her disinterest, and although some of them were more persistent than others, they always reacted accordingly in the end. Their attention was as brief as it was unwanted. This was different. Exponentially so.

Homelander caught one of her nipples between his lips and circled it with his tongue. Aura Maria's breath caught, and she could tell without checking that her underwear was growing wet. Homelander made a low sound of contentment, as if he were savoring the most delectable dessert, and started sucking on her nipple. It was a most curious sight. He looked like an infant being fed by his mother. Aura María thought that mental image should probably disturb her, but it didn't. Perhaps there was nothing he could say or do that would manage to truly upset her.

No more mudd people - those were your exact fuckin' words.

Aura María didn't know what that meant. She could only speculate on what that conversation had truly been about. Homelander's very public involvement with Stormfront did raise some uncomfortable questions. Although he'd never been openly racist as far as she was aware, it was a possibility. Aura María didn't allow herself to ponder these matters, though. If Homelander thought less of her because of her cultural background, the language she spoke, or even her human condition, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Not after the time they shared in his penthouse, and certainly not after tonight.

"Take off your clothes," Homelander said, letting go of her breast. His voice was husky, and there was an edge of command to it she'd heard before but never directed at her. Usually, she would never stand for it. They were not at set, though, and Aura Maria found herself obeying without further prompting.

She could feel Homelander's eyes on her as she slid her shirt down the rest of the way. Soon she was left lying on the couch of his trailer with nothing but her panties on, her nipples painfully hard because of the air conditioner. The feeling of exposure she experienced then was overwhelming and completely new to her. It had been different last time. She got to keep most of her clothes on, then, and although they were adventurous enough to try a couple of different positions, none of them forced them to face each other. 

She realized that she was trembling and took a deep breath to steady herself. Homelander removed his glove and pressed his fingers to her, just feeling the damp skin through her underwear. Aura María felt herself pulsing against him. 

"You know, you were already wet when you arrived," he said, smiling smugly. "I could smell it. Were you thinking of me, on your way here? Did you picture what we would do?"

"I… yeah, I did," Aura María said, face red, unable to lie as she felt his index finger rub against the folds of her pussy. "I think of you often."

"Ohhh, you bad girl," Homelander chided, and yet he looked awfully pleased with her, eyes hooded and bright. "Been touching yourself, uh? Remembering it? Thinking of what else we could do together?"

"Yes, yes. Everyday." Aura María pushed her hips upwards, head tilting back as pleasure ran through her. Her voice came out so low and husky she almost didn't recognize it as her own. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. It freaks me out .”

Homelander shushed her, caressing her cheek with a gloved hand. He circled her clit with the pad of his thumb, rubbing two fingers against her entrance. "Aren't you a dream?" He said, and although his voice was soft and almost sweet, she knew that he was mocking her. "Had a man ever done this for you, before me? Tell me."

Aura María wanted to snap at him but refrained. Despite her inexperience she understood, to an extent, the way a man's mind worked. She knew that the idea of being her first aroused him. Were it anyone else, she would have resented him for it. One of the reasons why she'd been unwilling to engage in sex so far was that she didn't want some man sexualizing the act of taking her virginity. The mere notion of it had filled her with disgust. 

He was not some spoiled rich boy back in her childhood neighborhood in the East of Caracas, though, thinking he could win her over by flashing his daddy's credit card her way. Neither was he one of the lowlifes who kept hollering at her when she first moved to Washington Heights, always teasing her because of her accent and calling her veneca. He was the Homelander, America's Greatest Hero. He was handsome, charismatic, and powerful beyond belief, and somehow she'd known that surrendering to him in any way wouldn't be a reason for shame but rather a balm on her ego. All that waiting was worth it in the end because she lost it to a real man. 

"No," she said, and the confession aroused her, perhaps as much as it did him. "There's been no one but you."

The words brought her neither embarrassment nor anger. She liked the idea of belonging to him in such a deep, intimate way, even if in the end it was just sex. Homelander made a low, pleased sound at the back of his throat.

"Fuck, that's hot," he said, licking his lips. Pupils blown wide, his eyes looked dangerous and almost black. "A real-life Virgin María. Weren't so virtuous anymore, though, were you? After I was done with you?"

Aura María's pussy twitched at the memory of bending over in his penthouse, reading verses from the holy book while he took her from behind, a hand wrapped around her throat. She certainly hadn’t felt very virtuous, then. Homelander reached down and undid the buckle of his belt. When he pulled out his cock, Aura María blinked. Although she truly had no frame of reference, she did wonder how they managed to make it fit inside her, the last time. 

"Righty-right, up we go, missy," he said, and she felt a spike of annoyance at him for using his corny dad voice now, of all times. 

She wouldn't complain though, because deep down she knew that it was part of the appeal - that fatherly disposition he would sometimes show her. Then there were warm hands on her, turning her around and lifting her hips, leaving her spread out and vulnerable beneath him. Homelander took the hem of her panties and pulled them down, removing the last means she had to protect her modesty. Instead of attempting to cover herself, Aura María laid her head over her forearms, setting her thighs further apart.

"Atta girl, you just leave everything to me." Homelander's voice was rough as he squeezed her buttocks, spreading them apart to take a better look. "I'll take real good care of you."

Feeling nothing but his breathing over her damp skin, Aura María moaned. He leaned forward and pressed the tip of his tongue to her clit, then slowly licked his way up. Aura María's whole body shook violently. Homelander caressed her sides as if trying to comfort her or perhaps warm her up.

"It really gets me going, baby," he said, slapping one of her buttocks, just hard enough for it to sting. Aura María let out a helpless little sound. "To know that you saved it for such a long time, and just for me."

"Yes, papi, just for you," Aura María replied. "You gonna give it to me? I want you so bad."

Then Homelander was dragging his tongue, slow and firm, over her pussy, and the sudden heat of his mouth left her breathless. He sucked her clit, gently lapping at it, and she moaned for him, loud and unrepentant, just to let him know that she liked it. His hands around her waist felt steady and secure. Everything he did, his every word and gesture, reflected a confidence Aura María both envied and admired. Even the slightest flick of his tongue made her aware of how much her experience paled before his. For how many women had he done this in the past? How many more would come after her?

"You sweet thing. Never even touched a cock before mine, did ya?" Homelander said, and suddenly, Aura María could feel him against her, thick and warm, rubbing between the folds of her pussy. She let out a moan, and then quickly bit into her fist, mortified by how lewd and desperate it sounded. Homelander slapped her ass again. 

“Answer me, baby,” he said, voice smooth and unnervingly calm. Aura María made what appeared to be a sound of denial. As he rubbed and teased her dripping sex, she felt almost unbearably warm. Last time they used a condom. This felt so different.

“No,” she said in a rough voice, “had never even seen one before. Not in real life.” 

It was a slip of the tongue, but just enough to draw his attention. “Uhhh, what’s that mean, in real life? You watch porn?” Homelander laughed, and she found it somewhat disconcerting to hear the Seven’s most wholesome hero let out such a devious sound. It was only then that Aura María realized her mistake. She bit into her lower lip, keeping quiet. Homelander spanked her harder this time, leaving her skin throbbing and with a very distinctive rosy print.

“Answer me,” he said, an edge to his voice. Aura María swallowed hard. 

“Yes.” She pushed her hips against him, hoping it would be enticing enough to get him to finally penetrate her. Homelander took hold of her hips, though, holding her in place. 

“You touch yourself when you do?” He asked, and she could clearly picture the grin on his face, the hunger in his eyes. Aura María’s arousal grew so intense then, she actually felt dizzy. She licked her lips, just barely stopping herself from drooling all over his couch. 

“Yes, papi.”

“Oh, boy, and here I thought you were such a proper young lady.” Homelander lowered himself then, and she could feel the spandex of the suit pressing against her back. He felt strong and safe on top of her as if that had always been his rightful place. He brushed the thick mane of her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck tenderly. 

“You don’t know half of it,” Aura María replied, and it felt good to gain back a bit of control - to try and tease him as much as he did her. He didn’t seem displeased. Finally, she could feel the head of his cock pressing against her entrance. 

“You want that, uh?” Homelander’s voice was low and thick. He twisted her hair around his hand then, not quite pulling at it. Just to give her a reminder that this time, in this room, there were no cameras and no film crew, and no Stan Edgar to stand behind her every decision. Homelander was the only one in charge.

“Yes, papi. I want it so, so bad,” she mewled, arching her back and thrusting her ass towards him, the way she’d seen girls do in porn so many times. Then he was making his way inside her, so large and already pulsating with need, just thick enough to be uncomfortable. 

“There you have it,” he said, bottoming out in a swift, merciless thrust. She yelped, caught in that thin line between pleasure and pain. Homelander paused, rubbing her back. “How’s that? Feels good?”

“Yeah,” Aura María replied, panting. She could feel herself clamping around him, already asking for more in spite of her own discomfort. “You feel so fucking good.”

"I should have known, the first time,” Homelander whispered at the shell of her ear. He licked it slowly, then sank sharp canines into her earlobe. She gasped. “You were so fuckin' tight. Should have known that I was fucking virgin pussy."

Aura María’s body went awfully rigid. Her eyes felt wet and her throat very dry. “Fuck you,” she muttered under her breath, very aware that he would be able to hear it. The anger burning in her heart was sudden and intense, threatening to burn both Homelander and her to a crisp. She was still dripping for him, hot and bothered and wanting more. Aura María hated it. 

Homelander stopped moving. He seemed to sense that he’d said something wrong. His hands moved away from her hips, caressing her thighs and stomach, finally making it to her breasts. He licked a steady line from her mid back to the upper part, and just with that, Aura María’s whole body shook. "That bothers you, baby? You regret what we did?" Homelander asked, lowly, as he fondled her breasts.

"N-no! I don't,” she replied, trembling as she felt him spreading her labia apart. He pressed one single digit against her clit and just left it there, giving her no stimulation. Aura María let out a pitiful sound, unable to hide her disappointment.

"What’s wrong, then?” 

Although she couldn’t see him, she heard the amusement in his words. Aura María tried to press herself against his hand, but that just earned her another spank. 

"I just don't want you to be such an asshole about it!" She cried out in frustration.

"Oh, my poor baby.” 

Then Homelander was turning her around and kissing her, hard and relentless. He spread her legs, entering her again in a swift motion. Aura María moaned against his mouth, putting her arms around his neck. Just like that, her anger seemed to melt away. She locked her ankles behind his back, unwilling to let him move even an inch away. The vice-like grip of her thighs around his waist brought her a strange satisfaction. There was a certain comfort in the knowledge that, no matter how hard she tried, she would never have the strength to truly hurt him. She was the one who broke the kiss, unable to keep up and struggling for breath. Homelander just stared at her, an easy smile splayed across his face.  

“What is it? You don't like it when Daddy teases you?" He asked, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face. Aura María pouted, feeling her cheeks burn.

"No, papi." 

“You like it better when he’s nice, right?” Then Homelander was moving inside her, hard and slow, and she just laid back, opening her legs wider for him. “That’s okay. I can play nice.”

It didn’t take long for him to find a steady rhythm. He draped his body down over hers, one hand gripping the arm of the couch, the other holding onto her waist. He was a sight above her, breathing hard and moving fast, and keeping her close. Aura María kissed his cheek, his earlobe, what little of his neck was within reach. She wished he would take the suit off, but didn’t dare ask. Each snap of his hips felt like a stab to the gut. Then Homelander bit into her nipple, letting out a low, guttural sound, and that did it. Her orgasm rolled hot through her entire body.

He kept going, face pressed to the crook of her neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, caught in a haze of pleasure. Tightening herself around him felt natural and easy. It should be good for him, as it had been for her. When he finally reached his peak, Aura María let him come inside. It occurred to her, as he pulled out and his warm semen slipped down her thighs, that there was nothing she wouldn’t let him do to her, as long as he was gentle enough about it. 

He carried her to the bed afterward. When she asked him to turn on the radio he let her pick the station, and although it was in Spanish and he couldn’t understand a word, he didn’t complain. It was almost three in the morning and it was raining outside.

"I like that," he told her, voice drowsy.

"What’s that?"

"The song.” Homelander gestured vaguely at the radio, not bothering to raise his head from between her breasts. “I like it. What’s it say?"

Aura María smiled, pleasantly surprised. It was a nice song. The type her mother would often listen to while doing house chores and cooking when she was a little girl. There were no particular memories of hers attached to it, yet it reminded her of a time of her life that she missed now. She translated it for him as best as she could, the pleasure of sharing something personal and dear to one’s heart lighting up her face.

“There's sadness in his eyes when he's talking and keeping quiet, and dancing with me,” Aura María said, softly, as she stared at the ceiling. The sound of Homelander’s breathing above her was strangely calming. "The boy with sad eyes lives alone and just needs some love. He needs to see me like he needs air. And I need him, like the sun.” 

She pressed her cheek to Homelander’s hair and was surprised to catch the scent of apricot and coconut that clung to it. It never failed to amaze her. How a man who was under so much pressure to appear strong and unbreakable to the rest of the world was still able to protect such unexpected, gentle elements of himself. 

“I don't even know his name, but I want to meet with him alone again. I want to find out for what strange reason there’s no laughter in his eyes. With love and tenderness, I will make them shine with happiness again.”

“Sounds like a real bummer, that guy,” Homelander said out of the blue.

Aura María laughed. “You think?”

“Yeah. It's a nice song, though," he said quietly. 

When she was grabbing the last of her things, ready to head back to her trailer, Homelander stopped her by grabbing her arm. “Give me your phone,” he said, and it sounded more like an order than a request.

Aura María arched an eyebrow, taken aback. “What? Wanna know if I’m talking to other boys?”

Homelander scowled. “Just give it to me!”

Aura María pulled her phone out of her purse and handed it over. Even if he did go looking for something incriminating, she knew he wouldn’t find it. Her SMSs (which she was forced to use because that’s how all Americans communicated via text, apparently) only featured tedious work conversations, almost exclusively with Ashley Barret. Her WhatsApp was just a long list of family groups, full of recipes, cat videos, and good morning images with cartoon backgrounds, courtesy of her seven aunts. 

Homelander didn’t appear to be searching for anything, though. He quickly tapped something on it, then handed the phone back. “That’s a private number,” he said, wagging his finger at her, the way he’d done back at the bay. “Don’t go sharing it around.”

Aura María wanted to argue. She’d been working at Vought for a couple of years now and knew well what the protocol was for protecting talent’s privacy. It was hard to stay mad about that, however, when she considered what she’d just been given. No one had Homelader’s number. Only Mr. Edgar and a few of the highest executives at the company had access to it. Was this his way of saying that he wanted to see her again? 

Aura María meant to text him so that he could have her number as well. She became distracted, however, when she noticed the name Homelander used when saving his contact information. It was not his superhero name - the one everyone at Vought knew him by, including her. This one was plain and simple, and so terribly common, she somehow knew it couldn’t be made up. 

John.

[come1nalone]

Adult children of neglect, are you eating well?

Following up the previous post I made-

This post will be focusing on your relationship with food, how to feed yourself, and general tips for adult people who’ve grown up with neglectful caregivers and as a result feel like reading a brief on food related topics will be beneficial to them.

When I was both 12, and 15, I had pretty bad eating disorders. To the point where I had eaten 500~ calories a day, made myself throw up 3-7 times a week, and have resorted to eating in ways that are very disordered. I had gone on several mono diets, consisting of eating only vegetables or fruits, for days on end. It was very hard to do anything. My energy was very low, my heartbeat was irregular, I lost my period for a year and a half. Shit was fucking rugged as hell.

My parents hadn’t noticed my eating disorders. In fact, me and my brother had to make food for ourselves starting at around 8 years old, and when I was 12 I had full “freedom” and responsibility in making myself food and making sure I had eaten well.

It was very very hard for my younger self to keep up with this responsibility. I really needed an adult to make sure I was eating enough and to cook for me but the adults in my life were busy, neglectful, and couldn’t be there for me sadly.

As a result I got a shitty relationship with food. I wanted to make this post bc I know that if it’s hard for me, fs there are people out there who need this help.

What amount of food is “enough”?

This is a great question! Sadly the only person who can really know, is you. A good rule of thumb has to be eating 3 meals a day, but everyone eats differently, so as long as you’re being attentive to your body’s needs you should be well. Consult with a GP if you have access to one.

How do I know if I’m hungry?

It gets hard to tell when you’ve been neglected. You often learn to ignore your inner cues. However, the simple method to re-gain these abilities is via mindfulness- being aware of your body and how it feels. Some common signs of being hungry, would be thinking about food, having a bit of an odor coming out of your mouth, feeling a bit weak or lightheaded, feeling your stomach rumbling, or just feeling weird things in your upper tummy haha. Also having a light headache. Everyone’s bodies are different, so try your best to learn and be attentive of your own cues.

What should I even be eating?

If you grew up in an environment of neglect, you may have skewed ideas of what a balanced diet should look like. It’s ok! There’s nothing wrong with having such thoughts. But you should make an active effort on improving your eating habits. You deserve to feel well, and eating well is a very important step in the direction of improving how you feel.

I would advise you to read about it, do some research. But the best advice has to be going to a dietitian or consulting with a doctor of course. At the very least: do some reading and make sure you haven’t missed out on important information about nutrition.

Is it ok to eat food that has “gone bad”?

You don’t have to eat food that has gone bad, even if you had to as a kid. You should aim for minimal food waste whenever possible, but sometimes things go bad, and it’s ok to throw them out. You would be hurting yourself by eating food that has expired or gone bad.

Is it ok to comment on other peoples eating habits?

This is an important one fr!! I’ve grown up in a house where comments about what you eat are very very common. However note that a lot of people may take offense if you make a lot of comments about their eating habits. I suggest refraining from making comments about how other people eat, even if it seems normal to you, it might hurt some people quite a lot.

However- a lovely gesture is asking your friends if they’ve eaten, because that one shows love and doesn’t come off as judgmental. It’s normal and healthy for people to eat together, and sometimes it’s even considered polite to wait for others to start eating their food before you’ve started to eat your food. Or even, sit with other people while they eat, just to keep them company. These are things that may seem weird- but in my personal experience, they’re quite common. You might even enjoy these things.

How do I prepare ahead with food? When should I carry food in my bag?

It’s better to carry a little snack with you if you’re in doubt. Think ahead: how many meals would I have eaten in this time frame, if I were at home?

If you’re uncertain, you may want to see what other people are doing and “copy” their behavior- this has helped me at several times.

I hide food, and prefer eating in secret.

This is normal if you’ve experienced neglect. However- know that as an adult, things are different for you. You don’t need to eat in secret. The danger is over- you don’t have to live in fear because your childhood was terrible. Gently try and break free of these beliefs. It’s best to consult a therapist.

That’s all for today folks- feel free to correct anything and add your own prompts. Sending love to all of you in recovery.

[dzpenumbra]

9/28/22

Okay, so basically today was this. Wake up. Grab a brush put on a little makeup. Browse social media for a bit. Instagram was the only thing interesting and not political. Called the urgent care and asked them if they were cool with walk-ins. Hopped in the shower. The second I got out of the shower, my music on my bluetooth speaker got taken over by a ringtone. My mom called. I was still in a towel. I hesitate for a minute, but I pick up. I tell her what's up and say I guess I don't really mind getting ready while on the phone, I just need to work through the conversation quick because I want to get to urgent care before they close. I have a skin thing that's been bugging me a lot and I've been putting off going for almost a year.

Within a few minutes, I call off going to the doctors. It was already like 4:30 or something, I didn't want to race to get there before 6. This nocturnal stuff makes groggy mornings so frantic and rushed. I'm tired of it. I lose so many options because of it, and my neurotic "I have to be perfectly lucid to drive" thing. I mean, why the fuck would I care about being alert while driving if one of my former best friend's sister died in a car crash on the same fucking road I live on? I wonder...

I brought up the ketosis thing from last night. How my lack of eating throughout the night is actually starving me, and it's probably a big reason why I'm not sleeping well too. Like a spiral, or a feedback loop or something. I asked for help thinking of good quick meals that require like 0 prep. I need food that isn't a responsibility to prepare. I need food that I don't go "I'm gonna have to slate out some time to throw that together". I need something that I grab from the cabinet or fridge and I'm fuckin done. I'm not picky. I eat fridge-cold leftovers all the time. I just haven't had bulk food that I can snack on lately, my menu went to shit real quick and I guess my whole rhythm got thrown off grocery/food prep-wise. I don't know why, probably sleep deprivation, stress, depression - combination of those.

She was suggesting things like pizza and throwing together a sandwich and stuff. I said I felt like that was too much prep for what I'm talking about. That I really just need something that isn't a project for emergency meals. Even soup can feel like a project at that point, like a time investment, like "I better find a video to watch while I do this" kinda thing. I was specifically looking for meals that do not have that kind of connotation. Quick, easy meals that aren't just a honey nut granola bar, because that's like all I have. Maybe I can add in cookies, or cereal. Maybe that will work. But milk expires, I really don't wanna all-in on an emergency meal that can expire quickly. I need something that's there when I need it, the way a diabetic would need insulin available when they need it. Because this is a medical problem, you know?

And I decided to google ketosis symptoms. That always goes well... I'm just gonna step away from that for a bit. I just wanted to see if my skin thing was connected to ketosis, it might be, but honestly, this has been a recurring problem for years, so whatever. It's not gonna kill me overnight.

So my honest rejection of her suggestions created a conflict. We butt heads quickly and I was just really not having it today. For the 10 billionth time. I tried to remind her of the parameters of what I needed help on, that I need something that isn't a chore, that isn't "cooking", that is just really easy and thrown together already. She just got hung up on my denial and started demanding that I show gratitude and appreciation. I really don't know how she doesn't hear what she sounds like. Let me say it directly. I said no to frozen pizza and PB+J suggestions because they involved "some cooking" to my Mom, the only person actively talking to me in my life, and she started yelling at me because I should be appreciative that I'm getting anything at all. What am I, in prison? Like... would they treat me worse than that in prison? I mean that tone, clearly I wouldn't get frozen pizza in prison, but like... "here's a random suggestion I found lying around and put 20 seconds worth of thought into. You should be grateful I gave you anything at all. Where's my 'thank you'?"

I should've just left there. I should've just gone, "you know what, I have to go to the doctors, so I really don't have time to either fight with you or mandatorily kiss your ass." Then I should have spent the entire second half - after she hung up on me... reconnected... left the conversation abruptly to get takeout with my dad... reconnected... fought for another like 3-4 hours... then hung up on me again - doing literally anything productive. Cleaning. Packing. Playing with the fucking cat. Drawing. Writing. Making music. Playing Session, which is a really fun skating simulator that I absolutely suck at because I'm playing on Hardcore mode like a fuckin boss and I'm starting to actually learn tricks! Fuck, I could've done an entire stream in the second half. And really should have. So many things I could've done with my life, gone because of these desperate, sad, pathetic attempts to win back people who are too proud to realize how gigantic of an asshole they're being.

Think about the irony of that. I think we all need to regularly think about how paradoxical that is. "I am too proud to admit I had done something wrong." "I am too proud to accept that I had made a mistake." How the fuck can you be aware of making a mistake, see it, acknowledge it, confirm its empirical presence, yep, flesh and blood, it's there... and then deny it. Then throw the blame onto the one who suffered from it. And demand that they apologize. How are so many people in my life doing this? How common is this? And please do take a minute to digest the paradox of being too proud to do something you would later be proud of. That others would be proud of. Being proud to do something self-serving, at the expense of others. Yikes.

Because of how toxic the interactions were, and how distant, disconnected and back-shelved the plans to help me move have been this week... I cancelled the plans I had with her to help me move. She was going to help me sort my shit and have the person who helps her clean her house come over and help vacuum. I thought it would be a nice way to share my moving, something very emotional and meaningful to me. It's being looked at like a fucking chore. Just like every one of these assholes. I talk to my old friend about brainstorming minecraft mod lists, which is supposed to be fun, supposed to be looked forward to. It's viewed as an intrusive chore that I should be doing myself for him. So many people in my life with this insanely negative, groaning, heavy sigh, dragging their feet shit about being involved in a loved one's life. Someone who wants to make good fucking memories with you. But all you see is "help the needy one", "feed the attention-starved one". Bitter. Mocking. Jaded. Emotionless. Cold. Almost spiteful. "You needy fucking bitch. Stop begging. No one ever helped ME when I was..."

I'm getting a little worked up about this, so I'm going to ramp it down. I was writing in a bit of a venomous tone and I just snipped two lines out of that just because if I'm gonna talk about pride here... I might as well write something I'm proud of. And I don't really like venting this much at the expense of others. I like moving forward. I like learning as much as I can about the situation, integrating lessons and continuing to walk. I haven't edited in a while, so I guess that means it's time for some change.

I called off help with moving. I'm not really sure where anything stands anymore, I just know that I clearly can't rely on my support system. But I only have to endure about a month and a half more of this.

I spent the rest of the night slowly trying to get buffalo mac and cheese into my knot of a stomach over the course of hours, then getting mildly high and playing Session for a few hours. Finally. And here I am. That was literally my entire day. No sketch. No streaming. No streaming brainstorming either. No music. No cleaning. No jewelry-making. Just fighting. And trying to emotionally recover. That's all.

So I'm gonna go and get even higher before I try to fall asleep. Because fuck my panic, I'm already in the gutter. What, is my panic gonna try to convince me a meteorite is gonna hit the planet? Well fucking bring it on, at least that won't be my fault. Actually, I'm sure some people might try to make it... never mind. I don't know, I feel oddly calm about the freakouts, which seems like improvement. I'm very cautious with smoking and very metered with how much I smoke at once, always leaning on the safe side. Now that I've experienced worse shit than that, like actual damaging shit that set me back half a week... freaking out about "maybe ghosts are real and maybe one is in my house, oooOOOooOOoo" kinda seems a bit silly.

[laundromatwitch]

I don't have the energy right to address all the negative things I've been seeing on the internet about Toronto's unhoused population. If you are interested in leading with empathy rather than judgement, here are some real, actionable things you could do that would help your struggling neighbours this summer. Much of this can applied to any other city. :

First and foremost... ask someone in need directly: "what do you need?”. You may not have the resources to give them what they need, and that’s okay. There might be another way you can help, and you are opening a dialogue. 

example: I never carry cash on me these days, but I can throw a couple items on my debit or credit card if someone tells me what they need. I can’t afford to do it every day, but I can manage some small purchases a few times a month.

Donate to your local community fridge or pantry, or food banks. CFT  hosts fridges and pantries around the cities, but there are also little pantries not affiliated with them as well. Religious groups will often host these programs too(i.e the Anglican Lutheran Church by High Park or the Intersynagogue Kosher Food Bank). 

PLEASE make sure you are donating unopened, uneaten food that has not expired. Don't donate anything you wouldn't want to personally eat! This sounds like common sense, but you'd be surprised. Don't be Elaine. 

Other things to keep in mind: weather conditions may affect the quality of the food you donate. Some things should not be out in extreme heat or freezing temperatures. Keep the places you donate to tidy- don’t leave food or supplies overflowing on the ground, and make sure the things you are donating aren’t leaking. Many organizations like CFT do not accept homemade meals to maintain a food safety standard.

Donate gently used clothing to social services with drop-in programs - NOT the Diabetes Association or any other charity doing a recycling program. Those charities sell to Value Village by the pound, and the clothes that aren't usable get shipped overseas (which is also problematic). If you really want your clothes to find new life, you can donate to a drop in and they will be washed, laundered, and worn again ASAP.

Drop-ins, community pantries, and food banks are also in need of hygiene supplies (especially menstrual products!), baby supplies, first aid supplies, and pet food. If you're unsure if what you want to donate is helpful, contact the organization in advance.

Get involved on a political level. Poverty is a systemic issue that is being exacerbated by multiple levels of government pulling back social supports. The politicians we elect are SUPPOSED to be working for us, so make your voice heard. Write to your MPPs about your concerns. Write to your local councillors. Show up to protests, if you're able to. 

Read about the many, many issues that influence how poverty happens and how it affects this city. Please don't trust a thinkpiece from a local newspaper or a reddit post to give you all the information you need- read, read, keep reading. Talk to the people affected by poverty, if they're comfortable sharing. Education is a key tool in the fight against poverty.

Challenge the notions you have about poverty and homelessness. I see so many people online making wild assumptions! Just because someone owns a phone, doesn't mean they're lying about their poverty. If someone is asking you for money, don't automatically assume it's for drugs. And, uh, if it is for drugs? Who the fuck are you to judge? Go read In The Realm of Hungry Ghosts and get back to me, please. Addiction is a hard fucking life and no one chooses it.

Get some Bystander Intervention training. Colleges and other organizations around the city will have free trainings from time to time, but you can also sign up for webinars too.

NALOXONE TRAINING. You can get it FREE all across the city and they'll even give you your own kit for free. Pharmacies will also give you a free kit, no questions asked. Naloxone can be the difference between life and death during those minutes between calling ambulance and waiting for an ambulance to arrive.

VOTE IN THE UPCOMING MUNICIPAL ELECTION, and every election after that. Stay educated, and stay politically engaged. Make your voice heard and let the politicians know that THERE ARE CONSEQUENCES for letting this city fall so far.

Community is what saves us. Compassion is what saves us. I know in my heart that we all have what it takes to make a beautiful city where no one gets left behind. The political overhaul and equitable distribution of resources is a brutal work in progress, but in the meantime the change starts with us and how we treat our neighbours.

Sincerely, a local shelter worker

[pansyslut]

truth or dare

reader x ginny x pansy

summary: things get heated when you, ginny, and pansy end up playing strip truth or dare at your sleepover

warnings: smut obv- mentions of hermione and reader, pansy is a lil possessive, stripping, thigh riding, use of pet names (bunny, momma), degration, praise, teasing, oral, choking, slightly dom reader x dom pansy x sub ginny, aftercare (pansy being the best dom ever)

a/n: pansy is literally my bi awakening... anyways i’d do a part two if people wanted. maybe hermione can join next time :)

flashback in italics

you didn’t mean for ginny to end up grinding on your thigh it just sort of happened. you, her, and pansy all decided to have a sleepover and eventually ended up playing truth or dare. whoever did not want to do their truth or dare had to strip. thus, ending up with you and ginny grinding on each other.

with her getting herself off on your thigh, her knee was pressed into your throbbing pussy practically screaming for attention. pansy lay behind you with you laying your back on her chest as she played with your breasts.

“okay, truth or dare ginny” pansy said with an evil look in her eye. when she had replied with truth, pansy said, “it is true you fancy the golden boy? everyone can see it.” ginnys face heated up instantly and all three girls knew what pansy was doing. she knew there was no way that ginny would answer the question so she would have to strip of a piece of clothing. with ginnys face as red as a tomato, she lifted up her shirt revealing her red lace push up bra.

“okay next,” ginny started trying to move on from the topic, “y/n truth or dare?” she asked giving a knowing look to pansy. “um, truth.”

“is it true that you and granger have expiremented with each other?” she asked. gulping, you remember back to when hermione had asked you not to tell anyone. the last thing you would want to do is out the girl. lifting your shirt you stare back at the two girls obviously looking at your chest. “a lady never kisses and tells,” you say shrugging.

“pansy, truth or dare” you state.

“dare”

“i dare you to admit how many times you’ve touched yourself imagining you were with malfoy,” you say smirking. earning a laugh from ginny beside you, pansy scoffs muttering, “nosey whores,” as she lifts her top. none of you planned for what was happening tonight but you all happened to be wearing lingerie. you were internally thanking yourself for your choices when you were getting dressed earlier.

“y/n, truth or dare” pansy glares back at you, obviously still slightly mad over your previous question.

“dare”

“i dare you to give ginny an orgasm. you pick how.”

so now you lay in pansy’s arms while ginny bounces atop of you chasing after her orgasm. her breasts bouncing in your face wasn’t helping your pulsing predicament down south. deciding to help the girl, you slide your middle finger into her red laced panties and start circling her clit.

“fuck just like that, y/n”

pansy kisses under your ear, talking just above a whisper, “look at our bunny humping you like a little needy whore.” she says as you both snicker. ginny stayed humping your hand, unbothered by you and pansy’s teasing, only trying to claim her release.

you look up at ginny and you can tell she’s almost reached her climax. circling her clit faster, she pants and whimpers ever louder. “please momma i need to cum,” she says letting the nickname slip from her tongue.

you were a little taken back but was turned on by it nonetheless. turning to whisper in pansy’s ear, “do you think she should be able to cum, pans? do you think she’s imagining this is pottahs hand? naughty girl i would say,” you tease shaking your head. ginny whines more and starts shaking her head, “no momma i’m only thinking of you. fuck, your hand feels good.”

ginny throws her head back and moans you and pansy’s names then falls limp on your chest. rubbing her back, you kiss her temple as pansy runs her fingers through her hair. after a few minutes pansy speaks up, “gin, don’t you think you should help y/n cum? it’s the least you could do after practically begging for her.”

ginny nods her head eagerly and starts kissing down your neck. luckily, all three girls were only left in undergarments after the game so she didn’t have to waste time undressing you. still laying against pansy’s chest, ginny kisses her way down to your center. peppering kisses on your inner thighs and on your pussy that was still covered with your panties.

sliding off your underwear, she licks between your folds teasingly. with one leg laying on her back, you dig your heal into it as to tell her to go on with it. letting out a giggle, you feel her hot breath on your pussy making you arch your back.

after kissing your clit multiple times, she fucks you with her tongue. grabbing her hair into your hand and pulling it away from her face, you can’t help but admire ginnys tongue. you didn’t think the girl had done this before but merlin it sure felt like she had.

“mommy your pussy tastes so good,” she says pausing momentarily and then going back down again. with pansy massaging your breasts and ginnys face shoved into your center, you start feeling hazy.

pansy nibbling your ear, “ginny, look at our pathetic little girl. she’s a needy little thing isnt she? hermione probably never touched or ate her out like this,” she says while possessivly wrapping a hand around your throat.

pansy grabs one of your hands with the one hand not wrapped around your throat and pulls it away from it bunched up in ginnys hair, pinning it down at your side. “don’t be greedy. bunny will give you what you deserve.”

with ginny lapping your clit and pansy’s hold on your throat, you knew you were about to cum. your entire body felt like it was buzzing and you felt euphoric. “oh look bunny, your momma wants to cum. y/n looks so fucking deprived at the way her legs are gripping onto you. obviously ‘mione didn’t do the job well enough but she’s absolutely falling apart around you.”

finally reaching your climax you arch your back as your ankles dig into ginnys back and pansy squeezed harder on your throat. laying limp against pansy, ginny lifts her head from your center and starts licking up your cum. licking up the last of it from your thighs, she’s careful not to hit your sensitive clit. plunging two fingers into you, she pulls them out and reaches over to pansy. “taste how yummy.”

watching pansy’s tongue swirl around pansy’s fingers you feel more arousal ball up in your stomach as she moans. letting go of her fingers, she looks down at you smirking. leaning to ginny, she grabs her chin and shoves it in your direction. “look at how fucked out your mommy is, you did so good,” she says praising ginny.

you felt a little bad that you never made pansy cum but she was right... you were fucked out and barely staying awake. feeling pansy lift you from her chest and lay you down on the bed, she starts moving around the room. you feel her cleaning you and ginny up softly, trying not to further awake you in your sleeping state.

she turns off the light and climbs in next to you and ginny as you all wrap arms around each other. eventually, your breathing synchronizes and you all take in the moment of being wrapped up in each other’s arms.

part two ->