#*basket is labelled 'worst'*

[slashingdisneypasta]

which Disney villains do you think realistically would make the best romantic partners and which ones would be the worst? In your opinion, I would love to know!

Hmmm in my opinion?? 😅 Okay lemme see XD

I think they all have their pros and cons, of course, and it all really depends on what you're willing to put up with (Your girl trynna make a coat outta puppies? Your man having rage issues? Bugs??) but these are the best (By Disney Villain standards at least! 😅 I don't really think any of these relationships would be truly healthy in real life)- and worst. Or at least my thoughts 😅

Best of the Worst:

Red font is like 'the best of the best of the worst'. Like, the ones that I genuinely think would be pretty okay and are the safest bets.

Alameda Slim- So long as you met him in a typical forum (Maybe in town grocery shopping, or mailing a letter), I feel like he would keep his cattle rustlin' business separate from his married life completely and treat you sweet <3 I don't think he gets angry in his regular life, just when it comes to his Crime Counterpart. Honestly, I don't think he'd ever even tell you about the, uh, hobby.

Captain Hook- He would be constantly struggling between 1. Being a good Husband, and 2. Being a good Pirate. And these things do not really cooperate with each other 😅 But hey at least he's trying!! And by villain standards I think that's pretty good XD

Dr Facilier- You know he would treat his partner with the deepest respect and always be charming. Of course, he's also full of bitterness and an ache for revenge, and messes around with things that should not be messed with, and that can all effect you- but just... just try to stay away from him when he's in Villain Mode 😅

Hades- Its not there anymore but yearsss ago, on Hades' wiki page, it said that he is one of the few Disney Villains who is not clinically insane (Sure, he has serious rage issues- but he's not mad) and that has stuck with me. I think that garners him major points XD

Long John Silver!!!!!- Long John Silver long john Silver l o n g j o h n s i l v e r. Ha 😅 Similar to our shadow man, he is consumed by his own demons (Here they are greed and... mostly greed), but he would do his damn best to treat you well.

Queen Narissa: Okay so we don't know her very well and she DOES seem to be quite manipulative towards Nathanial... But listen she doesn't like him!! I'm sorry 😅☠ I think if she liked you then she would be capable of treating you a lot better.

Rourke: Sure, he's got a divorce against his name already- but next to huge misogynists, psychopaths and power-obsessed lunatics I think its a strike that can be overlooked 😅 Rourke is a villain who's villainy would be totally separate from his relationship. He may a bit distant sometimes but other then that he's just a regular hot old dude, to you. Unless you go on trips with him.

Shan Yu: I- I- I dunno why I have it in my head that Shan Yu would be such a good partner but I just do *hides*

Shere Khan: Another one who's able to keep his villainy/prejudices separate from his husband time ^^ <3 <3 Also takes your safety very very seriously.

Stabington Brothers: Like Hades I don't think they're crazy... just greedy (And maybe a lil economically struggling, which I get).

Worst of the Worst:

Here the red ones are the worst of the worst of the worst XD

Clayton: /:/: This one, I just... I mean, could YOU live him constantly talking himself up, and re-telling you stories of his conquests, and rarely listening to you?? Cuz that's what I envision when I see marrying Clayton. Also, you know, he's a bit smug & misogynistic.

Gaston: ... I don't really have to explain myself, do I? I for one do not wanna spend my evenings rubbing his stinky feet, that's for sure.

Frollo: 😑.

Jafar: Tell me this man wouldn't hypnotise you to get his way.

Mother Gothel: She would be so emotionally abusive and so manipulative. 0/10, do NOT reccomend-

Oogie Boogie: He would just be so physically and socially draining!! He is very high energy. You would need to be sporty and an extrovert to have a chance.

Percival C McLeach: Okay so this mainly because, as far as we know, McLeach has not been exposed to other people in a long while and he doesn't know how to treat them well (Nor does he seem to care). So being with him would mean some work, and I don't recommend being someone's bob the builder. Sure, Jane did it, but Percy is not Tarzan 😅

Queen of Hearts: Where Hades has a problem with anger but is sane... Red here has a problem with ager AND is insane. And that does not bode well...

Scar: Scar is one of the least stable in our line up... so as much as I like him, I do not like his chances at being a good husband.

Sykes:

Toon Patrol: It is in each of their names. They literally come with built in warning signs!! Greasy, Psycho, Smartass, Stupid, Wheezy. Some are definitely worse than others... but I wouldn't risk it with any of them 😅 (*cough* or maybe i would. what don't look at me)

Turbo / King Candy: If you marry him before King Candy then you're gonna lose the man you fell for, and if you fall for him afterwards then you're gonna eventually find out that he's a lie. Either way, seems ultimately unpleasant.

Some of them probably slipped my mind but these are my thoughts right now ^^ Let me know your own thoughts!

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (36/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Lets get drunk part two - with new opportunities.

Warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: hah. you thought you'd seen the last of me. feedback is appreciated!

"Okay," says Charles and sits back down next to you on the sun bed. He sets the basket down between you, with the necks of various bottles sticking out of it. "Are you more of a vodka girl or a tequila girl?" He pulls out two bottles and holds them out to you. 

You examine the bottles before raising your hands. "Neither, to be honest." You carefully pull the basket towards you and take a look inside. Your hands turn the containers slowly so you can read the labels better, and when a bottle catches your eye, you grin at your roommate. "Here."

Charles takes the bottle you hold out to him. "Peach?" He looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "Quite summery."

You shrug your shoulders. "You promised to take me with you next summer so I could go swimming in the sea. I just want to prepare myself properly."

A smile spreads across his face. "Touché. All right." He reaches into the basket and fishes out two small shot glasses. He places them at the head of the sun bed to fill them with the peach liqueur. "You'll love it here during the summer. The sun is blazing, the sea is cold and the days are long." He carefully slides a glass over to you so that the contents don't spill over the rim. "It's like paradise."

You nod gratefully at him. "So now you definitely don't have a choice."

He looks at you, confused. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well," you sit up straight and pick up the shot glass. "You talked me up about the boat and summer at sea so much that you definitely have to bring me here next year." You grin at him. "So you have no choice but to take me with you."

"Oh no." He rolls his eyes in mock annoyance and reaches for his glass as well. "So I guess I can't get rid of you at all, huh?"

You shake your head excessively. "No fucking way. You definitely won't get me off this boat in the summer. And the deal about us sharing the apartment is on anyway." You tilt your head. "Even if you really tried, you wouldn't get rid of me that easily." You hold out your arm so he can clink glasses with you. 

He looks you in the eye. There's a sparkle in his green ones as he knocks his glass against yours. "Thank God."

The peach liqueur tastes indescribably good and the longer you lie on the sun bed looking at the glowing Monaco in front of you, the more you drink of it. The stars above you twinkle and although it's getting colder, you're nice and warm. Whether it's the alcohol or Charles' laughter, you don't know. 

"You've met Arthur yourself," he says as you have to press your face into the pillow to stop your laughter echoing across the ocean. "I swear, his April Fool's jokes are the worst! And you never see them coming!"

You giggle into your pillow. "Tell me you didn't fall for it." Hesitantly, you peek over the hem of the pillow to see Charles' blushing face. You quickly push it back into your face and laugh. "Oh, Charles!"

Your roommate grabs his own pillow and hits yours with it. "Don't laugh at me! You'll be affected soon enough! And then I'm not going to be the one to rescue you."

As you slowly calm down and wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes, you put the pillow back behind your head and look at him. "Trust me - by then Arthur will like me enough that we'll form an alliance. Then he certainly won't play any tricks on me."

Charles looks at you, dumbfounded. "Excuse me? I thought you and I were friends! You're supposed to stand on my side!" With a shake of his head, he reaches for the peach liqueur and refills your glasses.

You grin at him. "I don't form alliances with people who fall for stupid pranks like that."

He pushes your glass over to you. "All traitors." He shakes his head again. "I thought at least I had you on my side."

You raise your glass to your lips. "I'm always on your side, Charles. You're my best friend," you assure him, although the sentence leaves a nasty taste in your mouth. You wash it down with the liqueur. "But I'm not going to let Arthur take the piss just to make you feel better."

"You're a great best friend," he says and pours the liqueur into his mouth. "Just you wait and see. I won't save you if my brother does decide to play an April Fool's joke on you."

"You wouldn't dare," you reply with a grin. "Your mom would give you hell if she knew you were abandoning me." You grab the liqueur and fill your glasses again. "After all, she likes me better than you."

Charles watches you fill his glass to the brim. He presses his tongue into your cheek before licking his teeth. "I wish you were wrong." He holds out his arm for you to clink glasses with him. "Here's to my family liking you better than me."

You try to suppress your grin. "Don't worry, Charlie. I like you all the more for it," the alcohol speaks out of you and when you hear what you're saying, the blood rushes to your face. You quickly clink your glass against his and drink the liqueur so you don't have to look at the Monegasque in front of you. 

As he puts his empty glass down, he grins at you. "'Charlie'? You're really going to give me a nickname?"

You roll your eyes and run your fingers through your hair so he doesn't notice your nervousness. "Don't worry," you try to play it down. Thank goodness he can't hear your rapid heartbeat. "I only use it when it's just us."

When you look at Charles again, he smiles at you softly. "I like the name," he assures you. "And if it stays your little secret and mine, I like it even more. It belongs only to you. Only you can call me that."

You smile at him before leaning back into your pillow and looking up at the stars. The night is clear, there isn't a single cloud in the night sky and the sea breeze on your face cools your alcohol-warmed skin pleasantly. You feel Charles lie down as well. 

"Do you want to spend the night at my mother's tomorrow?" he asks quietly. When you turn your head in his direction, he's already looking at you. "I usually spend the night there. Maman always gets delicious wine and when we all get together, the evening gets pretty long." When you raise an eyebrow with a smile, he continues. "And there are plenty of rooms in the house. You're welcome to choose one of them. I'd hate to go back home for Christmas," he adds. "Especially because my mom would be alone and -"

"Charlie," you interrupt him. "We can spend the night at your mom's. There's nothing wrong with that." You wink at him. "Besides, I want to have a drink with Arthur and then I definitely can't go home."

He exhales with relief. "Very good." He turns his head forward and looks up at the stars too. "It's going to be a nice evening. My maman cooks delicious food and then we always play something. It's usually Uno or charades. You've heard how Monopoly turns out for us."

You have to giggle. "I would really like to play Monopoly with you," you admit quietly. "And I would never steal money from the bank either."

Charles exhales. "I'll take your word for that. But Arthur is more cunning than you think. He would steal money from the bank and make it look like it was you. You definitely don't want to play Monopoly with him."

You shrug your shoulders. "Then again, maybe I'm smarter than you give me credit for." You look up at the night sky again. "Maybe I can outsmart Arthur and win."

Your roommate laughs out loud. "Then you'd have to get past me first. And I'm certainly not going to let you win just like that. Not after you said you'd team up with my brother and not stand by me when he pulls his April Fool's pranks."

Offended, you reach behind your head for your pillow to smash it into his face, but Charles is quicker and snatches the pillow out of your hand before you can hit him with it. "You suck, Charlie."

"You love me. Just admit it," he grins and hesitantly gives you your pillow back, risking being exposed to your attack again. 

But you merely wrap your arms around the pillow and hug it to your chest. Even through the feathers inside, you can feel how fast your heart is beating. 

"Of course," you try to play down the swirling feelings inside you and hope that he doesn't notice the trembling in your voice. Or the truth in your words. "I'll still try to beat you at Monopoly. Or Uno. Or charades." Offended, you lie back on your pillow and cross your arms in front of your chest. 

Charles sits up again and refills your shot glasses. He pushes it towards you like a peace offering. "Maybe I'll let you win," he smiles as you look at him. "After all, Christmas is the festival of love and I -" he continues, but is interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. 

You look at him in confusion. You'd love to know how he would have finished the sentence. "You have reception out here?" you ask him as he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. 

The Monegasque shakes his head and shows you his phone screen. "I had set an alarm clock."

You raise an eyebrow. "For what?" 

He points to the time with his finger. It's midnight and therefore officially Christmas. He looks at you with a grin. "I have a Christmas present for you." 

As he gets up from the sun bed and staggers onto the wood of the deck, you look at him indignantly. "No way," you reply, annoyed. "If I can't give you a present, then you can't give me one either." 

"Calm down, mon ami," he says, swaying slightly from left to right as he circles you. The alcohol seems to have hit him hard too. "I'll be right back." Without another word, he disappears into the interior of the yacht, leaving you on the sun bed. 

Annoyed, you sit up. 

The fact that you're not allowed to give him a present has almost ruined your friendship. Just the memory of his words that he wants nothing from you but your friendship sends a cold shiver down your spine. You would love to tell him that you want more from him than friendship, that you desire him, that you want him for yourself - that you love him - but no amount of money in the world would make you reveal your feelings to him. If he actually knew how you felt about him, you would certainly lose the only good thing in your life. And you wouldn't risk that under any circumstances. 

You run your fingers nervously through your hair. What could he possibly give you? You've never mentioned anything to him that he could possibly buy. And there's no way he'd change his mind in a day and confess his love for you. You'd have to be incredibly naive to believe that. 

It's not his fault that he doesn't feel the same way about you as you do about him. It's not his fault that his words have torn your heart apart. And it's not his fault that he can't take your feelings into consideration if you don't tell him about them. 

You take a deep breath and smile at him as he rejoins you. In his hand, he holds a brown envelope, which he hands to you as he drops back onto the sun bed next to you. When you look at him uncertainly, he nods at you. "Merry Christmas, mon ami."

Hesitantly, you open the envelope and pull out several pages of paper, held together at the top left corner by a paper clip. You immediately recognize your name on the first page, with Charles written underneath. The rest is written in French, which is why you look at your roommate even more confused than before. "What's this?"

Irritated, he takes the pages from your hand and lets his eyes wander over the letters for a moment before he hits his forehead a little too hard with the palm of his hand. "Shit. I thought they'd printed it out in English," he says, handing the papers back to you. I'm really sorry."

You raise an eyebrow. "And what's this?" Your eyes wander over the paper, trying to identify any of the words, until you unsuccessfully put the papers down in front of you. 

"This, mon ami, is an employment contract," he explains with a smile and leans back a little. 

"An employment contract?"

" Mh-hmm." He licks his lips once. "Remember when Joris mentioned that he had a new job?"

You nod. Of course you remember. 

After you'd been to the place where Charles had been with his father in the past, you both went to Joris' and had lunch there. Joris had told you that he was starting a new job and when you had been there to burn Annika's things, he had talked about it too. 

"Well," Charles says hesitantly. "Joris was my personal photographer. And now that he can no longer work for me and accompany me around the world because of his new job, I thought - well - maybe you'd like to be my new photographer. You - um - you don't have a job at the moment and - well - I thought it would be cool if you and I worked together," he babbles in one breath, blood rushing to his cheeks. "You'd travel with me to the Formula 1 races and take photos there, but of course you'd also spend a lot of time with me in private. Which would be a good fit, as you and I live together anyway and the fans loved the photo you took of me at the lookout point. And the one you just took of me turned out great too."

Your breath is stuck in your lungs. 

Charles wants you to work for him? That you photograph him so he can post the pictures on Instagram? That you fly around the world with him? 

You'd love to throw your arms around his neck with joy, but you just grin at him. "Are you serious?" When he nods, you squeal with excitement. "You're really serious, Charlie? You really want me to work for you?"

"Of course," he admits openly and smiles at you. "You and I are best friends. Why would I want to work with someone else when I have the perfect and best photographer literally sitting right in front of me? I'd be pretty stupid to ask anyone else."

Carefully and with shaky hands, you put the documents back in the envelope. "I - thank you. I don't even know what to say."

"Just say yes." He leans a little to the side so that he can push your full shot glass over to you. "You'll travel around the world with me, get paid incredibly well and spend a lot of time with me. I'll cover the travel expenses, of course. All you have to do is take good photos of me."

You look at him in amazement. "I'm getting paid and you're still covering the travel costs?"

Your flatmate laughs out loud. "Of course! What do you think? Whether I give you more salary so you can pay for your flights and everything yourself, or whether I pay you everything, it's the same in the end."

Heat shoots into your face. "Then at least let me give you money for the rent. Now that I have a job again."

He shakes his head vehemently. "Absolutely not. The money is yours, you can do anything you want with it."

"Except pay the rent," you reply and get his pillow thrown in your face. 

"Exactly. Everything except pay the rent," he assures you. "So, what do you say, mon ami? Do you fancy exploring the world with me?"

You nod with a grin. "Definitely." You raise your shot glass. "Thank you, Charlie. That's the best Christmas present I've ever been given."

A blush creeps into his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck nervously. "Really?"

You nod with a smile. "Definitely. I can't thank you enough for that." 

The thought of being permanently close to Charles scares you as much as it makes you happy. As his best friend, you're looking forward to spending every minute with him, traveling the world and discovering the most beautiful places. And getting paid for it too. 

As the woman who loves him, you're a little worried about what will happen if he meets someone he falls in love with while you're traveling. You don't want to imagine the pain if he gets into a committed relationship with someone and all you can do is stand on the sidelines and watch him be happy. There's no question that he deserves to be happy - but the thought that the person he's falling in love with isn't you makes you feel sick. 

You try to suppress the thought and smile bravely at him. "It's absolutely the best present. Thank you so much, Charlie. No one's ever done anything like this for me before."

There is a loving sparkle in his eyes. "I'd do anything for you." Before he picks up his glass as well, he pulls out his cell phone again and taps on it. "Can I post it like this?" he asks you and holds his phone out to you. His screen shows the picture you just took, with a simple caption. 

You shrug your shoulders. "I think so. But do you think it's a good idea to post something when you've had so much alcohol?" you ask him with a grin. 

"Oh nonsense," he grins at you and taps his phone one last time before activating the keypad lock and putting it back in his pocket. "I only have good ideas when I'm drunk." He reaches for his shot glass and holds it out to you so you can clink glasses. "I'm glad you said yes. I can hardly wait." 

"Me neither," you reply with a smile. 

He takes a deep breath before his eyes search yours. He would love to put the glasses aside, pull you onto his lap and kiss you until you can't breathe, until the sun rises, until the world ends. But that's just the alcohol whispering to him, he thinks. 

He knocks his glass against yours. "Here's to us."

-

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55 and others tagged: yourusername charles_leclerc: ma mère approuve

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Every Inch

Summary: After feeling discouraged after trying on a pair of jeans that doesn't fit anymore, Javi shows you just how much he appreciates your body, regardless of what you think about it.

Word Count: 3.5K

Pairing: husband!Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n, reader has no physical descriptions besides the fact her jeans don't fit, because let's be honest, jeans suck no matter what size you are)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), established relationship, unprotected p in v sex (be better), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, creampie, praise kink, body praise (Javi loves ur body holy shit), mentions of weight/negative self image/body issues, jeans being the worst (let's be honest, they are), fluff, sweetness, Javi being the best husband ever

A/N: Inspired by my own personal battle with my favorite pair of jeans and love for BLT sandwiches 🥴

Can be read alone or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!

To say that Laredo, Texas had “fall” weather, was generous, to say the least. After spending all of your life in Chicago, you had grown accustomed to the change in seasons from summer to autumn meaning pants, sweaters, sweatshirts, and most of the time by mid October, a winter coat. When you first moved, people were shocked to see you wearing shorts in February, and you were equally as shocked as to why everyone wasn’t when it was 70 degrees out. You had always made fun of Javi for how terribly he handled the cold, complaining every time the temperature got low enough to even consider wearing a jacket. The first time you had brought him back to Chicago for Christmas to experience a real midwest winter, you were convinced that you could have wrapped him in an Arctic Expedition parka and he still wouldn’t have been warm enough. But now, after almost 2 years of living in Laredo, your tolerance for anything less than blazing hot had decreased significantly, signaling a change in the guard from your summer to fall attire in your closet. 

It was the end of June when you and Javi had first moved into your new house, packing away anything heavier than shorts and t-shirts for later. Unfortunately, it had been long enough that later meant now. You shuffled through the things already hung in your closet, pulling out a large cardboard box labeled “warm clothes” that had been tucked in the back corner of your wardrobe since you had moved. One by one, you began pulling out pairs of jeans, jackets, and long sleeved shirts to be hung next to the rest of your clothes, grimacing to yourself at how much you had packed away in such a small box that you had forgotten about. 

It wasn’t before long that your clothes were organized on their hangers, having to find ways to creatively squeeze your clothes into your side of the closet without overflowing into Javi’s equally crammed side. With everything at least in a place for now, you took a step back, nodding to yourself in satisfaction at your completed task, before you looked down to notice a crumpled pair of jeans that must have fallen out of your box when you had pulled it out. 

“Oh, there they are!” You smiled to yourself as you reached down to grab the pile of denim, holding the pants up in excitement. You had been so busy putting away the rest of your clothes that you hadn’t even noticed that your favorite pair of jeans had been missing among the assorted warm weather items. Although the two of you were just planning to spend the day hanging around the house, you couldn’t help but want to change into the jeans, knowing damn well they made your ass look fantastic, and made Javi go absolutely feral. You quickly slipped off your sweatpants, tossing them into the laundry basket by your bed before stepping into the pant legs of the well worn denim, pausing for a moment as you got halfway up your thighs. 

“Fuck, these are tight…” You muttered to yourself, jumping up and down to try and shimmy the pants over your hips, barley getting the denim around your waist. “C’mon, please fit, please fit…” You silently pleaded with yourself, tugging the button of your jeans across your belly, sucking in as hard as you could to loop it through the opening. As hard as you pulled and as much as you tried to push in your stomach, you knew for a fact that there was no way in hell you were getting those jeans to close, let alone fit comfortably. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…” You sighed, looking down at the denim now squeezing your lower half in what felt like all of the wrong places. You gave the button one last try, even though you knew it was no use. 

“Motherfucker…” You could feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes as you glanced at yourself in the mirror, staring at your figure with your jeans unbuttoned, your mind now seeming to find a way to pick out every single flaw you could find. The longer you stared, the wetter your eyes became, tears now streaming down your cheeks as you wrestled with your pants to get them off as quickly as possible, throwing them across the room in a messy heap. Your soft sobs only became heavier as you looked up at your open closet, wondering what else from the box you had just unpacked wasn’t going to fit you this year either. 

You tried your best to take a deep breath and distract yourself from your dismay by folding the rest of Javi’s clean laundry at the end of your bed before Javi came in from whatever he was doing to find you crying over a pair of pants. You aggressively folded the last of Javi’s shirts after composing yourself enough to finish your task, taking an extra moment to hug your favorite of his, his well loved red Texas A&M swimming shirt- one of the first he had left at your apartment when you began dating. You held the soft fabric against your face, finding relief in the sweet and familiar smell of him embedded in the shirt. You closed your eyes, letting out a deep sigh as you folded it and placed it with the rest of the pile, not even noticing that Javi had been watching from the doorway, grinning to himself as he watched you put away one of the shirts that had glady become more yours than his. 

“Hey, Hermosa.” Javi smiled as he walked over to you sitting cross legged on the bed, pressing a gentle kiss into your hair. “I’m almost done cleaning out the truck. Do you wanna do lunch after I’m done? I can go pick up Alejandro’s for us. I’ve been fucking craving a BLT all day.” 

“Um, I don’t know, I’m uh- I’m not that hungry, I guess.” You mumbled, looking sheepishly back down at your pile of clothes, trying to hide the frustration on your face as you glared at your jeans laying on the floor at the end of your bed.

A puzzled look grew across Javi’s face as he watched you forcefully fold another one of his shirts, throwing it into the pile of folded clothes next to you before crossing your arms over your chest. Ever since he had met you, there had been very few times that you had turned down a meal, let alone anything from your favorite sandwich shop, especially knowing that you hadn’t eaten since breakfast a few hours ago. “You okay, baby? We don’t have to do Alejandro’s if you don’t want to I-” 

“It’s fine, Jav. I’m not that hungry, okay? If you wanna get a sandwich that’s fine, I’ll just have like, a banana or something.” You replied, perhaps a little harsher than intended, trying to use your anger to ward off anymore incoming tears. Javi quietly sat down on the bed next to you, placing his hand on your thigh as you looked up at the concern pooling in his sweet, brown eyes, clearly knowing all too well that you were not okay.

“Osita, what’s going on?” He murmured, running his other hand through the messy ends of your hair. 

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid.” You huffed, keeping your eyes locked with the denim enemy you had made only minutes ago. You could feel Javi sliding his hand across your face to cup your cheek, forcing your gaze to meet his, only raising an eyebrow at you in response to coax an answer out of you. “My favorite pair of jeans don’t fit.” 

Javi cocked his head to the side, trying to formulate a logical response to your statement. “Do you wanna go out and get new ones? We can go shopping if you need new jeans, Hermosa.” 

“No Jav, I don’t wanna go shopping for new pants, I want my old pants to fit because they were my favorite pair and now i’m too big for them. I don’t wanna try on any other pairs that I just hung up because if these ones don’t fit, those ones probably won’t either. I wanna be the same size I was a year ago when my fucking jeans still fit. I feel so gross and ugly and ahhhgghh they’re just stupid fucking pants and I know I can get new ones, but still.” There was no use in trying to hold back your tears at this point. You rambled as your cheeks grew red and wet, feeling like an idiot for being so distraught for letting a pair of pants ruin your morning, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel frustrated that you had gained enough weight since the last time you had tried them on that they didn’t even button anymore. Javi sat there for a moment, letting you finish your angry rant as you sniffled against his chest before lifting up your chin, using his thumb to wipe the tears from your eyes. 

“First of all, it’s not stupid, or dumb.” Javi softly smiled at you, tracing small circles against your jaw as you looked up at him. “Baby, believe me, I had to buy my fair share of new clothes when I came back home after Colombia, and I felt shitty about it too. Second of all, regardless of whether those jeans fit you or not, I still think that you are the most beautiful, amazing, attractive woman I have ever seen in my entire fucking life. I love everything about you, Osita- every inch of you is perfect.” 

“I’m your wife, you have to say that.” You sniffed, letting out a little laugh as the tiniest smirk began to form on your lips from Javi’s sweet words. Javi laughed to himself, shaking his head before turning back to you. 

“No, it means more because out of all the women in the world there is no one else that I would rather be with than you. “Baby…” He paused, looking you up and down, biting down on his lip before speaking again. “Baby, you know how much I love everything about your body.” Reaching down, he grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he brought it up to his mouth, carefully kissing each knuckle. 

“I love your hands.” He grinned, leaning his body over yours. “I love your arms.” His kisses began to slowly travel up the sleeves of your shirt. “I love your neck.” He rasped, nipping at your skin, his kisses now beginning to become wet and heavy. “I love your beautiful face. Fuck, you know you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, Osita.” 

You let out a muffled moan as Javi’s lips met yours, his tongue quickly swiping against your parted mouth before pulling away, his kisses making their way back down your body as his hands worked at the hem of your shirt, helping you to raise your arms over your head as he pulled it off, tossing it off the side of the bed, leaving you in your bra. “You know how much I love these.” You could feel his smirk pressed against your skin as his hand freed the clasp around your back, his hands kneading at your breasts, kissing each one before flicking your pebbled nipples along his tongue. 

“Javi…” You whimpered, your breath shaky and weak as he slid himself off the edge of the bed, his fingertips digging into the meat of your ass as lifted you up and slid your underwear down your thighs as they pooled around your ankles. “Fuck, I love your ass.”  He mewled, setting you back down as he gently nudged open your legs, admiring the slick that had already begun pooling between your thighs, your cunt wet and glistening as he kissed up the exposed flesh of your legs. “And you already know how much I love this.” He smirked, swiping two of his fingers between your folds, collecting your arousal as he began to circle around your clit, making you moan. “Prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen, goddamn. I’ll never get over it.” His breath was hot against your entrance as he took one long, drawn out lick with a broad stroke of his tongue against your throbbing bundle of nerves as he looked up with you, a devilish grin on his face. “Let me show you, baby. Let me show you how much I love every fucking inch of you, okay?” 

You nodded frantically, easily complying with his request as he nestled his broad frame between your legs, draping his arm over your hips to hold you in place as he slid two fingers into your heat, curling his hand to reach the spot inside you he knew made you crumble before diving back in between your legs, beginning to lick you up like a man starved. His tongue swirled against your clit, the firmness of each stroke and the deep press of his fingers making you writhe under his touch, grabbing fist fulls of your comforter to ease the tension already building in your belly. You could feel him switching tactics, latching his lips around your sensitive nub, rapidly sucking at the the throbbing bundle of nerves, working his fingers deeper in your cunt as he felt you begin to clench around him. 

“Fuck Javi, fuck, right there baby- fuck, I’m close.” You reached one of your hands down, tugging at the ends of Javi’s dark curls, as if to pull his face closer to you as you could feel your orgasm building at the base of your spine, desperate for him to give you your sweet release. 

His thick fingers bumped along your g-spot, curving them ever so slightly in the way he had memorized like the back of his hand to make you come undone. The tingle along your spine quickly spread down your legs, pleasure building rapidly throughout your body as you felt yourself on the edge of release. Lifting his arm off your waist, he reached down to grab your hand that had been tangled in the sheets, engulfing it in his grasp as he intertwined his fingers with yours. 

“Dameló, (give it to me) sweet girl. Let go, baby, I’ve got you.” 

You could feel the pressure inside you snap, the tingling in your veins quickly transforming into full blown pleasure as your orgasm swept through you. You gushed around his hand, clenching down on his fingers as they gently pulsed inside you as you came down from your high, a smug look spreading across the slick covered sheen of Javi’s face as he withdrew them, licking the juices clean as he sucked his fingers in his mouth. 

“So fucking sweet. Can I keep showing you how much I love everything about you, Osita? Show you how much your husband loves his fucking beautiful wife?” He smirked, kissing his way up your body as he stood, towering over you. You nodded, reaching down to palm at the bulge straining against the denim of his jeans as Javi began to undo his belt buckle, shuffling his pants and boxers down his hips before reaching over his head to pull off his army green t-shirt that had been straining against the broadness of his shoulders. You shuffled back on the bed, Javi crawling over you, nipping at your exposed skin as snaked his hand between your bodies to stroke his cock before running his tip through your folds, collecting the shining slick of your arousal along his length. 

“Please, Javi. Please.” You whined, squirming your bottom half, aching to feel Javi inside you as he continued to tease you relentlessly, relishing in your desperate state. 

“Such a good girl, asking so nicely. So needy, hmmmm? This what you want?” He rasped, gently pushing himself inside you, making you gasp as his hips flushed with yours, feeling his cock bottom out against your cervix. His thickness made you breathless, only able to whimper and nod in response as every inch of him filled you. Almost painfully slowly, he began to pull back, his strokes slow and methodical as the lewd sounds of your moans and the wetness between you coated the walls of your bedroom. As his thrusts began to speed up, he ran his hands down your arms before grabbing your wrists, pinning them above your head and holding them in place with his broad grasp. He caged his chest with yours, the warm touch of your bare skin pressed against each other as he rocked into you, planting hot, wet kisses along your neck, sucking at your pulse point. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet, Hermosa. I can’t believe this is all fucking mine.” He whispered, his voice low and tender as he slipped his grip away from your wrists, sliding his hand under your back to pull you up, resting his palm on the small of your back as he helped you to sit in his lap. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your head in the nape of his neck, and fingers in the dark curls of his hair, the new position making the pressure building in your core grow rapidly. Javi snaked his hand between your bodies, reaching down to rub back and forth along your clit as he punched into you, each thrust somehow more satisfying than the last. 

“Oh shit- Javi, fuck- Fuck, you feel so good, please don’t stop baby, don’t stop.” Javi had learned all too well from the tremble of your incoherent babbles and tightness now squeezing around his cock that you were close to coming undone, and he knew exactly what you needed to push you over the edge. 

“Yeah? I know you’re close, baby girl. Give me another one, Osita. Be a good girl and cum one more time around my dick before I fuck myself so deep inside you. Fuck me, you’re so fucking perfect. I know you’re close, baby, it’s okay.” 

Javi was snapping into you, splitting you open with each thrust, making every inch of your body shiver as the tingling in your lower belly began to build towards your sweet release, your mind going blank from his filthy words he knew damn well were your weakness. 

“Fuck, Javi, Javi, oh shit- Fuck, Javi, I’m gonnahhhhhhhh-” Your legs shook as your orgasm flooded through your body, the cries of your husband’s name quickly turning to silent sobs into his shoulder as your body went slack, pleasure taking over you. 

“That’s it, baby. Fuck, you’re so hot when you cum like that. Shit- I’m close too, Hermosa. Eres perfecta. Mierda, tengo tanta suerte. Te amo con todo mi corazón (You’re perfect. Shit, I’m so lucky. I love you with all of my heart). Oh fuck me, shit, oh fuckkkkkk.” With only a few more thrusts deep inside, Javi followed suit, milking himself of every last drop of his spend into you, the mixture of your arousal pooling beneath you as he slumped into you, your chests heaving with shallow breaths as you came down from each of your highs. 

Reaching his hands up to cusp your face, Javi leaned in to kiss you, his lips strong and tender against yours, making your cheeks warm as he pulled away to brush back a stray piece of messy hair that had fallen in your face. “I know I can’t fix how you feel, but I hope that was at least some reassurance that I mean it when I say that you are the most beautiful woman on earth, Osita.” Javi smirked at you, rubbing his thumb against your jaw as his chocolate brown eyes gazed at yours. 

“I meannnn, it does help a little.” You giggled, pecking a quick kiss onto Javi’s lips. “Thank you, Jav. I definitely still think that’s a bit of an overstatement and doesn’t help me fit back into my jeans, but it’s really sweet of you. I love you.” 

“Te amo mucho. (I love you so much.) It’s true. And I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. In fact…” Javi’s face lit up with a devilish grin as he wrapped your arms around your back, scooting the both of you off the bed, making you squeal in delight as you locked your legs over his waist, holding you up, beginning to walk you both towards your bathroom. “I think that we need to take a shower and I can show you again just how much I love everything about you. And then…” He pepper ticklish kisses along your neck and collar bone in between each word as he sat you down on the bathroom counter, hands grasping your face. “We’re gonna go out and get BLT’s for lunch because I know you’re fucking hungry and I don’t want you to be cranky when we come back home and fuck you until you can’t walk.” 

“I’m honestly fucking starving, I could eat 14 BLT’s right about now.” You laughed, shaking your head at the thought that not long ago, you were willing to forgo your favorite lunch because of a stupid pair of pants. “God, you’re amazing. And a fucking menace. You better get me in that shower, Peña- You’ve got a hungry, horny wife waiting for you.”

Taglist: @cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @blackfemalenerd @beware-my-thorns @deppydelta

[parachutingkitten]

The Villain She was Meant to Be

Happy @loving-cryptor-day ! A little 750 word drabble. Echo and Cry, living as roommates, chat about Pix.

Echo entered the living room holding a large laundry basket, and set it down on the floor in front of the couch. His roommate lounged on top, flipping through channels, and getting progressively more annoyed. 

“Anything good on?” Echo asked, folding onto the floor next to the basket as he began sorting the load.

“Nothing but the worst press conference on every channel,” Cryptor groaned. “I swear, I can’t stand her stupid smile.”

Echo chuckled, looking up to see Pixal’s face filling the screen, giving some sort of address in front of the Bounty. “She really is everywhere, isn’t she?”

“It’s infuriating.” Cryptor grumbled. “I mean, plastering her face everywhere is legitimately insulting.”

“I mean, it’s a little annoying, I guess.” Echo shrugged.

“She should be rotting behind bars.” Cryptor asserted, still toggling through stations, only to meet more feeds of his sister.

“For what?” Echo scoffed, shifting his glare over to the couch. “From the sounds of things, it seems like she just saved the city again.”

“For everything I got pinned for.” Cryptor stressed, muting the television. “She started the whole thing, she’s the one who helped the Overlord escape in the first place.”

Echo continued his folding, rolling his eyes. “Well, she was also under the control of the Overlord-” 

“We were all under the control of the Overlord!” Cryptor lurched forward. “It was all the Overlord! There was no piece of corrupted technology that wasn’t just the Overlord!” 

Echo dropped his wrists over the edge of the basket, a shirt still hanging in his hands as he turned his attention back to his roommate. “Didn’t the Overlord commission you though? You were made to work for him.”

Cryptor sighed, now hunched over at the edge of the couch, a hint of defeat entering his manner.  “...the first memory I have, is of being arrested.” He stared out into the room, his eyes sitting with a thick, heavy blankness.

Echo stared back at him, the room frozen in fragility. “What do you mean?”

“It’s the very first event written into my processor. There is no record of anything before then.” Cryptor looked back at Echo, eyes still impenetrable. “Things from before came back to me eventually, but it was information. Events I knew had happened, but had no memory of participating in. Because I didn’t do any of it. I didn’t have any kind of control. People called me a weapon, and a murderer, and a terrorist, before I’d ever had the chance to make a single decision for myself.”

Echo leaned over the edge of the sofa, now locked on getting to the bottom of the situation. “Why didn’t you fight to get out earlier? You would have had a decent case, manipulation by an evil presence is pretty common in Ninjago.”

Cryptor shrugged. “Because I did it.” He lowered himself onto the floor, his glance reaching toward his companion. “Even if it wasn’t really me, it was still me, you know? And it was the only thing I had ever done, even if I didn't do it. It felt sort of pointless to try and resist. If people wanted to label me a monster, I didn’t have any grounds to disbelieve them. It all felt sort of inevitable.”

Cryptor’s eyes turned again to his sister’s image, still smiling on the screen in front of them. “The only difference between Pixal and me, is that she was freed of the Overlord’s code soon enough to get away scot-free. She managed to win the heart of the hero, and so everyone forgives her.” His head sunk back onto the couch cushions behind him, his eyes now pointed at the ceiling. “She lucked into falling in love with the right person and the right time, while I’m left playing the villain she was supposed to be.”

Echo gingerly leaned over the laundry basket, toward his friend. “You know, I don’t think Pixal should’ve gone to jail, but for what it’s worth, I don’t think you should have either… I know how rough that can be, especially in solitary.”

Cryptor’s head turned Echo, a new found solidarity in his face. “But hey, we got out.”

Echo nodded. “We got out.” 

Cryptor’s hand reached out, grabbing the other end of the laundry basket, his expression softening. “How about I do this load, and you find us literally anything else to watch.” 

Echo’s face lit up in a smile as he quickly sat up. “Is this permission to put on a rom com?!”

“As long as it’s not about two stupidly perfect robots, I think I can handle it.”

[happyk44]

hiiii happy!!!! how do you feel abt jason's adhd? in my opinion, the books didn't really do a job illustrating it. how do you think it would manifest and affect him? i'd love to hear your opinion ☺️ i love you!!! 💖💓💗

Personally, I think of Jason as being autistic versus having ADHD. We know through Frank that having ADHD and dyslexia (both of which Frank does not have) is not an exclusive requirement to being a demigod. On top of that, Rick’s use of ADHD is not… great. My sister has been diagnosed with ADHD since she was five – she is very much the inattentive subtype, and I think Rick’s use of ADHD as a superpower of hypervigilance does sort of exclude people who primarily experience inattentive symptoms.

But those kinds of symptoms are not easily rewritten as “benefits” (which. yeah. It’s a disability), so I get why he didn’t include it. I remember reading a while back that when the books were first published, rewriting ADHD as a superpower/benefit to kids who had it was a common narrative, so, like, okay, but also. It’s been two decades.

But anyway. Jason. Yes! In general:

He gets easily distracted by different tasks, but to other people it just looks like he’s multitasking

He forgets to take care of himself a lot, forgets to eat, shower, drink water, sleep, talk to people and be social, etc

Auditory processing issues. During long speeches he starts to zone out because the sound eventually merges into all the other background noise he’s trying to filter out (wind powers and wolf vigilance amplifies the sound of everything) so he often encourages people to just get to the point and be upfront, and gets frustrated when people won’t. Also can’t stand people who talk in monotone (which is ironic because I think Jason doesn’t inflect or shift his voice very much)

Leo definitely uses his voice in various tones during conversation, so while Jason is like “oh my god, please stop talking in circles I have no idea what you’re saying”, it’s a lot easier for him to listen to Leo’s rambling monologues because he doesn’t speak in one or two tones

If it doesn’t interest him, the conversation can start to blur together as well because he struggles to focus on what’s being said. Fortunately, just because of how CJ and New Rome are structured, most topics at hand are things he likes (ancient Rome, gods, politics, etc). Unfortunately, Jason doesn’t really have strong human connections and his position as the golden boy of Camp Jupiter, champion of Juno, son of Jupiter, etc, etc, etc distances him from a lot of people so casual topics, like video games or TV shows, rarely get brought up to him in the first place

The onslaught of sensory issues makes it hard for him to focus. He’s taught himself how to filter things out, but it’s a constant practice to do and gets very tiring

Object impermanence – if he can’t see it, it doesn’t exist. Luckily for him, he doesn’t own a lot of things, but for things he has to keep tucked away in a drawer (like clothing), he slaps labels onto the container/drawer. Everything else, like the couple of misc trinkets he owns, he keeps out and obvious

One of things he does to help it avoid blending into the background is using sharp colour contrasts. So if its important – like medication or something, he might use a bright yellow basket on top of a black dresser or whatever because the yellow stands out so sharply it’s hard for the basket to blend into the background and so he remembers to take his meds.

Another thing is moving location. So he might move the basket from one side the dresser to the other and back again every so often

He’s pretty good at maintaining habits and routine (autism), but also if something happens that throws off the routine it takes months to get back on track and it is the worst thing ever, it is grueling and he hates it. Habits and routine are not innate, they are a constant active conscious choice he makes every day

Making plans can be difficult, even in battle or on quests when strategy is key. He can get tripped up on the small details and overlook the larger picture, or be so focused on the larger picture, he doesn’t see the small details. Because people have been so reliant on him for strategy, he’s more or less managed to get away with looking competent, but it’s always a competition with himself to remain on task, instead of narrowing into something that doesn’t matter

People will often comment on how fast he can get things done but its literally that he gets things done fast because sometimes he waits too long to do the thing (procrastination) and now he’s got like five seconds to the deadline, OR he has a burst of focus and gets that thing done as fast as he can before the executive function dips

He does get bored easily, so he'll flit between task to task, but it’s really that he needs stimulation, needs to be doing something, and if he’s not doing something, he’s losing his mind, and because he lacks a core sense of identity, he flits from task to task to find something that interests him (but there’s so little that does because he does not know who he is and he’s just mimicking people and it’s not the same)

Emotional dysregulation

He gets lost in his own head a lot. Part of it is just standard dissociation, but the other part is that his brain is always on, everything is firing at all cylinders, there is no quiet, it’s just noise and reminding himself of things he needs to get done on repeat, 24/7, loud as can be and he can't turn it off or lower the volume. His brain is full of bees and they won't stop buzzing

As a result, he probably has pretty bad insomnia

I think he has a lot of trouble getting stuff started. Body doubling encourages him to get started on stuff, and he’s never not been surrounded by at least one other person, so when he starts living alone in Cabin One after The Lost Hero, he is so confused that he can’t seem to force himself to pick up his shirt off the ground. And it just stays on the ground for days. Until he runs out of clean underwear and has no choice but to pick it up to get laundry started

He doesn’t own enough stuff to be fully disorganized, but if he does, he’ll have the most organized areas in his room ever, and then his closet is a mess because “well I don’t go in there a lot”

I think he tries to keep a spreadsheet/list of items he owns that he doesn’t use very often, but he still has doubles of a few things. Also so many batteries. He’s constantly like “I don’t think I have enough batteries” and then he buys the batteries and comes back, goes to update the list on the back of the door and it’ll be like “you have batteries. Stop buying batteries. There are too many batteries” and then he throws the batteries in the box that’s overflowing with batteries and forgets they exist again, but then, when he does need the batteries, it takes him so long to find the box

He would self-medicate on coffee if he didn’t hate the taste. He also doesn’t like soda. Or chocolate. So, you know, RIP to him. He’s rawdogging life. At least Leo can inhale caffeine like his life depends on it

He has the waiting mode problem, where if he has something scheduled at a certain time, it doesn’t matter how much time he has until that thing, he just. Waits. For the thing. Like he could get so much done in that time, but he can’t. Again, body doubling has helped, but living alone makes it so much harder

Reward systems don’t work with him. He doesn’t get the same sense of satisfaction that a neurotypical would after getting a reward after task completion. So when he absolutely needs to get something done but his brain is like “nah we gotta sit here and stare at this wall for seven hours while dissociating”, he just ends up screaming at himself a lot

Jason’s probably in a burnout so intense that if he took a minute to rest, his body and mind would shutdown for like three years.

He forces himself to get things done and screams at himself the entire time, and it hurts in a way he doesn’t understand but he has to do these things because there’s no other choice and people are relying on him.

Since he’s been groomed for leadership since day one, he’s never really had a chance to breathe that the other kids would get, so even when he finally has the chance to rest, it’s like his mind knows how unsafe that would be because shutting down completely would never be safe for him (trauma!!) so he just refuses to rest, which involves a lot of him getting lost in his own head or hyper-focusing on something (like spreading recognition of minor and forgotten gods) instead of. You know. Breathing

I think a lot of his issues with ADHD become more present after TLH when the quest is over and he’s alone. CHB has structure, but its not as narrow as Camp Jupiter’s routine and structure, and Jason lives alone, operates his own schedule, doesn’t really have other people to remind him of things, etc, etc, so the sudden shift makes him start to spiral a bit in his fears of incompetence.

It’s not that he’s incompetent, he’s very competent, but his problems were never as evident because other people had his back as he had theirs. He’s kind of like people w/ undiagnosed ADHD or autism who leave their support systems for university and suddenly school and life is the most difficult thing in the world, when before it was a lot easier

Timeblindness does affect him a lot, especially when he's doing something he enjoys. He wears a watch everywhere. And has a lot of backup watches

A lot of these probably overlap with autism but like, lol, I do primarily view him as autistic.

[fleckcmscott]

Frills and Thrills

Summary: A typical night becomes anything but typical.

Words: 1,398

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This piece was inspired by the below behind-the-scenes photo; the cinematography of One From the Heart (thanks, Lawrence Sher!); and this very 80s song. No, I am still not looking forward to the sequel - but I will take a hot Arthur Fleck anytime. 😎 Please enjoy! Special thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for her help and support! A very tardy Christmas piece is on the way!

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

"That'll be $43.67."

Arthur counted out the bills in his wallet. Before transferring his three prescriptions to Groves Pharmacy - a brisk nine-minute walk from his Burnley address - he'd called for the beige and blue tablets' prices. With his lack of Gothamcare, he'd hoped they'd be cheaper than at Helms. "Disappointed but not surprised" was that night's journal entry.

He'd try the new insomnia pills first, get a fourteen-day supply of the other two whenever he could. See if a good night's sleep in the bed he was almost used to would encourage positive thoughts, lighten black moods to grey. After all, they'd improved since Y/N. Still there, still a teeter on the edge of an abyss. But with a guide rope in the shape of a woman's hand.

Leaving $2.41 in his pocket, he surrendered exact change. Took the white paper bag with blue lettering. Offered a quiet thanks and sidestepped from the pharmacist's counter.

Y/N waited in the cosmetics section, purse on her shoulder, a passive expression on her face. He recognized the creams on the top shelf, a flicker from when he'd shopped for Penny. The silhouette logo, the black label, the rounded corners of the jar. Anti-wrinkle Oil of Olay, then, when money was too tight, the knock-off poured into her Oil of Olay jar. His subtle subterfuge had gone undetected. Wrinkles continued to form in the usual fashion. He'd continued to save a quarter and make the swap.

As Y/N picked up a pink compact, Arthur slinked behind her to speak in her ear. "You're already pretty."

Giggling, she hung the rouge in its spot between concealer and cream foundation. "You make me blush enough already. Did you get what you needed?"

A crooked half-smile. "I think so." He entwined their fingers and started towards the exit, an attempt to halt any further questions that might lead to med and money talk.

Aisle three's endcap had an Easter display, a thousand plastic wrappers crying out for attention. Jolly Jack chocolate bunnies and Cadbury mini-eggs, pastel baskets and cellophane grass. The plush baby chicks were awfully cute, perfect the kids at the children's clinic. He'd jot a reminder to come back after the holiday, grab some plastic eggs and props at half price.

"My parents used to dress us up and take us to our grandparents for a picnic and Easter egg hunt," Y/N said, crouching to browse a set of die cut decorations. "Do you want to do anything for Easter?"

In spite of his mother watching a televised mass and sharing a bag of jellybeans, the day hadn't ever been personal. The Fleck household was anathema to miracles. Even with the miracle he was currently living, he had no desire to celebrate a victory he didn't believe in. "No. Why?"

"You've got a heavy eye on the Peeps - my little sister likes to put them in cocoa. And I thought you were Catholic. Or at least raised Catholic, with all the prayer candles and icons in your apartment."

The answer came firmer than intended. "Those were Penny's."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. You wouldn't have hung a Madonna over the bed. I bet you weren't responsible for that ugly cat candle, either."

Snorting, he rolled his eyes, recalling all he times he'd dusted his mother's knickknacks. The sculpted candles were the worst. They'd developed a weird film sticker than nicotine stains, and grime stuck in every crevice. On bad days he'd been tempted to throw them out. On good days he'd care for them, because Penny loved them so. Inklings of whimsy in a life of indifference.

The never indifferent woman at his side rose to walk with him. Grove's automatic doors opened and they spilled onto the busy sidewalk.

Two blocks up, a light sprinkling began, lent the pavement a velveteen sheen. With each step that sprinkling grew heavier. From a drizzle to a patter to an outright shower. Puddles formed beneath their feet, threatening shoe seams with leaks. Arthur crumpled his paper bag, shoved it in his tan jacket's pocket, and jerked his hood over his head.

The toe of Y/N's kitten heel skidded past a pool as she hopped to the right. "The weather report didn't mention rain!" she cried, ambles escalating to a jog.

A fierce gust sent sheets of water sideways, whipped the hem of her pleated skirt to flash her thighs. Arthur looped his arm through hers, pulled her into an alley to take refuge under the canary, corner awning of Mott's Spirits. Cigarette smoke drifted from the crowd gathered along the storefront. Her wrinkled nose kept him from lighting up himself.

She gathered the collar of her wool coat. "Well, I'd like us to do something small, if that's all right. It's been years since I've celebrated anything, really. I want to put all that behind me again, like last Christmas. Easter Parade's playing at the Majestic this week. I haven't seen it but the summary sounded like you. A song-and-dance romantic classic."

How could he argue with the sweetness of her reasoning? That he was the reason she wanted to celebrate? He gave a little nod. "I think Tuesdays are half price."

Just then, a bell rang out, crisp and clear despite the downpour. A bicycle messenger sped their way, a dozen plastic bags hanging from the ten-speed's handles. Arthur darted in front of Y/N, sought to protect her from the incoming splash. She yanked him tighter, out of the menace's path.

But it was no use. Muddled water pelted the back of his trousers, liquid ice soaked through white socks. He jolted to his tiptoes, teeth clenched against the stinging cold.

Y/N bent to survey the damage. A groan left her, which quickly became a laugh. "What an asshole," she said, then laughed all the harder. The warmth of it loosened his stance, and he found he had no choice but to join in. She settled back against the shop's window, stuck out her lower lip to blow a damp lock of hair from her forehead. The lock remained in place. "If only I'd had my umbrella."

Neon light from a Gotham Lottery sign spilled across her face. "Winners aren't born. They're made!" was the lotto's slogan, and Arthur had finally found a winning ticket. Orange accentuated the tawny flecks of her irises, rounded the curves of her cheeks. A perfect frame even an imagination as vivid as his couldn't improve.

A drop trickled down his scalp, skimmed the side of his neck, sneaked beneath his collar. He'd caught Easter Parade on television years ago. Studied Astaire's steps, how he'd slipped a diamond ring on the leading lady's finger. What would Y/N look like, Arthur wondered, in a lace bonnet, its ribbons tied under her chin? A hat he could loosen while they kissed, hold as a shield against prying eyes?

A couple of swells like them would make a beautiful pair, better than any Vanderbilt or Wayne.

When his thumb traced her jaw, her full lips parted, as if about to ask for a dance. Dark brows raised, her pupils dilated, full of unquenchable life. The affection in them, the openness. The caring curiosity and eager readiness to accept all of him made him tremble. Her love felt like rain on his skin, and for once he understood why someone might sing in it.

He leaned closer, until her breath brushed his lips. "Kiss me."

Her arms wound about him in an instant, a sudden, welcome pressure on his ribs. He cupped her face. Guiding, following, bracing. Their mouths a messy collision of desire and devotion and dreams. Her frame vibrated against his, the pulse under his fingertips beating to the rhythm of his heart.

At last, a wave of giggles broke them apart. Arthur pushed himself to stretch beyond his shy nature towards the forward, confident instinct he was learning to polish. His eyes flitted between hers, a demure smile adorning his cheeks. "I'd like to make love, if you wouldn't mind."

The blush he caused so easily crept across her face anew. "Last one home is on top," she said, and pressed the tip of her nose to his. "Give me a head start."

With that, Y/N held her purse horizontally above her head and sprinted into the deluge.

~~~~~

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

[potentialguybodyswaps]

I think tumblr deleted one of my stories, so I’ll post it again lmfao

Swap Class part 1:

America is going straight to hell, every aspect of society has gone to pleasing the Pansy ass democrats

Like they added this new sub course to Sociology, called swap class, where the goal was to allow you to experience life though other people’s eyes, so you could have empathy for those not as privileged…

Kinda vague if you ask me, but as the captain of the basket ball team, I’m just tryin to take easy classes, which I’m told sociology was, until they decided to add it to the course shortly after picking up the class

I walked into class that day and we had a different professor than usual, some chick.

I took my seat next to some fag, he was Hispanic and kinda built like a twink. I actually remembered him tho cause he was one of the kids I bullied here

She was going over the rules of class, but to me it was just another monologue that I didn’t care for. eventually she finally did some shit that caught my attention.

the professor wheeled out some machine and told us “this right here, is where the magic happens, the heart of swap class”

One student yelled out “what is it” to which the professor said “it’s the body swap machine that you all will be doing your projects on”

For this first time in this class I was absolutely baffled “Bodyswap? Project? What’s the project about” i yelled

“ yes so the project is each and every one of you will get the GREAT Opportunity to swap bodies with a classmate for a month, and you’ll have to right a 10 page essay about their lives and how it differs from your own, any questions?” She said looking over the class

Another student then called out “yes, do we get to pick who we swap with?”

The professor smiled and said “No, if you look down at your seat, you’ll see there all labeled, so whoever is in seat one will swap with 2, whoever is in seat 3 will swap into seat 4… any other questions”

“Yes what if we don’t wanna stay swapped for the whole month?” I asked

“Well I suppose you’d get an F, if you don’t care about your GPA, and flunking the first semester, that’s fine I suppose, ok enough questions, everyone look at your seat and figure out who your partner will be. Once done start lining up”

Man, I couldn’t fail this class, if I fail any of my classes my position on the team is in jeopardy… I looked down at my seat, and saw the number 44

“Oh no” I thought to myself as I herd calls chuckle as I looked down and saw the number 44

I looked at his desk and saw the number 45.

“Fuck bro, I guess we’re swapping bodies for the next month” i said looking him up and down. “Try not to do any dorky shit in my body ok? I don’t want people starting to think I’m a loser”

“Aye aye captain” Carlos said with a weird ass smile

“Like that shit bro, don’t ever say that shit again” i said scowling as i got up to get in line

Carlos followed me and got in line, after all the swaps were done there were only a couple minutes left of class since each pair of people took about a minute to swap

“Now before you all go about your new lives for the month, don’t forget to follow the rules, if any of you do something to mess with the other’s life while your inhabiting it, they have the option of not swapping back and keeping your life if they want” the professor said as the bell ring

On my way to Carlos’s next class I couldn’t help but feel how weird my junk felt

I tried rearranging it, but it wouldn’t go down ether of my pants leg. “he must be too small to fit it down a pants leg” I said to myself laughing as I used an arm to feel the rest of my chest

“Dam Carlos sure is boney, I can feel he has has abs but it’s not like he works out type of abs, more like he doesn’t eat food type of abs”

I knew Carlos was a 2nd generation Mexican, but his English was pretty good. That didn’t stop me from making fun of him tho for being from a poor immigrant family

I think the worst part of this all is how the bully has become the bullied, I knew the other assholes in school were probably gonna make a target of me, so I decided to minimize that as much as possible

I went to the typical hang out spot for the the basketball team and saw there were only 2 guys

Zeke, and Caleb, they weren’t my favorite people on the team but I knew they would protect me

I walked up to them and they seemed pretty hostile “aye fucktard, get out of here, we’re waiting on other members of the team to show up so we can hang out”

I tried to explain to them what happened in swap class but they didn’t seem to believe me

“Oh ya? If your really Ryan, pull your pants down and show us this kids dick, we all know it’s gotta be small compared to your actual dick ” one of them said

For some reason being told what to do was kinda a turn on and I immediately got hard…

I laughed and told them “I personally haven’t checked it out for myself but your definitely right haha”

I pulled my pants down to show them, underwear still up, and I guess that was enough for them, since I was already hard they could tell that I was no where near as big as my original body haha

They started laughing at me when I pulled my pants down and took a photo.

“Ya I’m probs like 5 inches haha, i don’t know” I said laughing with them

“Why are you laughing Carlos?” One of them said seriously

“W-what’s the issue” I started to say before getting cut off

“Get on your knees dude” they said again while unbuckling their jeans. i don’t know what it is, but for some reason in Carlos’s body, I found it hot and wanted to obey when I was given commands

I got on my knees and they both pulled out their cocks in my face

“Suck” Caleb said to me

I opened my mouth and took Caleb’s dick in first, trying not to gag, he wasn’t the biggest on the team by far, that was me, at 9 inches, but Caleb was pretty big too, at 7 inches, he was bigger than zeke

Zeke had his phone out the whole time I was sucking Caleb’s dick, I decided it sucked to be the bitch of the group and put all my effort into sucking Caleb and Zeke off, I started focusing on mainly the head and got Caleb to cum in under 10 minutes, dispute him using his hands to push me further down onto his cock, so I wasn’t able to focus as much as I wanted on the tip…

After I got Caleb to cum, he pulled out and Zeke stuck it in my mouth as he handed Caleb the phone

“Ya you like sucking the teams dick don’t you!?” He said to me while I sucked him off

“Answer me when I’m talking to you” Zeke said pulling his dick out

This whole situation sucked so I was just trying to get it over with as fast as possible

“Yes zeke” I said as I inched closer to put his dick back in my mouth

“That’s fine, there’s plenty of people on the team, we kinda need a cock sucker to keep us all happy, who knows maybe you’ll get a spot on the team” he said laughing

“I don’t think that’s necessary” I mumbled

“Oh yay and why is ThATTTT” Zeke said as he cummed into my mouth

The taste was just as salty as Caleb, but I told him “cause like always, I’m too good for y’all”

“Psh whatever that means fag, now get out of here and don’t talk to us again” they said as Caleb handed Zeke his phone back and put it in his pocket

I headed back to Carlos’s dorm and went to bed early that night, sadden that some of my own best friends didn’t believe me, and forced me to suck their dick just for trying to talk to them…

I woke up the next day and took a look in the mirror, I couldn’t believe that I was actually Carlos, I always seem to be hard, but it’s not hard to hide when I’m this small haha

I won’t lie, his face is kinda cute, if he was more muscular and had a bigger cock, I just might be fine with staying this way. But bro is a absolute twink, though and though, which isn’t what I want to be so, I can’t wait till the end of the month and get my body back

I got dressed for the day and made my way to Carlos’s classes, I proceeded to just go home each night and try to sleep as early as possible

Less time I’m awake, the less times it feels like I’m stuck as this fag

I would text Carlos every now and again asking him how things were going, was he going to practice? To which he typically just responded ya “fine” “good” or “yay”

I do take that back tho, I wouldn’t always go to bed right away, Carlos was in the band, and so I would try to play his instrument and practice, I didn’t really know what I was doing but as I looked at the sheet music while I played, I just somehow knew where to put my fingers to make music.

Eventually when the time came for the next basketball game (which was a week after we swapped)

I got on the bus to travel with the band, but since it was such a small band, Carlos in my body, and the rest of the team was also on the bus.

After the band got on, Carlos was one of the first people from the team on the bus, and made way towards me, picking a seat across from me

Eventually I started falling asleep on the long ass ride to our game, the bus was full of chit chat about the game, but it was just white noise to me

Eventually I was woke up to Carlos smacking one of my arms

I opened my eyes and looked over with complete horror written on my face.

I saw Carlos with his shorts and underwear pulled down, with our team hat placed over his junk

“What are you doing bro, you know the rules of the swap, don’t do that in my body” i said trying to hide a look of desperation on my face.

Carlos smirked and stood up, still covering my junk from the public, and did a loud whistle that got everyone’s attention

“As team captain I just wanted to say, no matter what happens tonight, we all know we’re the better team and they all can just suck my dick if they think other wise” he said smiling as he pulled the cap away exposing his, or should I say my big dick to the team and band”

The crowd started applauding and he sat back down pulling his shorts back up

Whole time i was just staring at him in disbelief, “bro what the fuck, why did you do that? Are you trying to keep my body? I mean all you did is let everyone know how big my cock is, probs the biggest here, that’s not exactly damaging my rep haha, I’ll still take my body back at the end of this… you’ll have to try harder, if that’s what your trying to do” I said regaining a bit of my confidence

Carlos made direct eye contact with me and smirked as he leaned in closer to me

“Ya but you see, after a shirtless pic of me with my pants down, leaked, and you sucking off some of your supposed friends on the team, my reputation is trashed. the professor already knows too” he said as the smile on my formal face grew bigger, as I finally realized where he was going with this

“No” I started but got cut off before I could finish.

“With that said, she says I don’t have to do the essay… and I get to keep your body if I want, which I mean who wouldn’t wanna be the big dicked basketball captain, fucking his girlfriend every other night. Oh which she says has been way better recently… your girl likes me fucking her better, than when you were haha! So ya bro, I think ima keep your body, and your not getting it back, so feel free to keep sucking the teams dick, I can be next if you want” Carlos said grabbing my formal junk though his shorts

I wrapped my arms around my head and just sunk into my seat

“Wtf bro this isn’t fair” I mumbled

“What’s not fair is you being a bully and thinking you can get away with whatever you want” he said jokingly hitting me in his head a bit

“Use your head Mcfly, hello? Anyone home?” he said doing his best impression of biff from back to the future

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Gabe Fleisher at Wake Up To Politics:

Last night, one of America’s two political parties gathered in Illinois and heard from a former CIA officer and several military veterans. They waved American flags and chanted “USA” while homage was paid to John McCain and Ronald Reagan. A sheriff spoke about increasing police funding; a Tea Party lawmaker opined on what it means to be conservative. The party’s presidential nominee, a former prosecutor, promised to toughen border security and protect American freedom. No, it wasn’t a Republican convention. Just a new political reality. The Democratic convention in Chicago showed a party finally addressing a core contradiction of the past half-decade. Electorally speaking, the Trump years have been good to Democrats, with victories in 2018, 2020, 2022, and 2023 raining down like manna from heaven. But from a messaging standpoint, the era has been one stumble after another, with the party bouncing around the ideological map in search of a narrative that clicks. The persistent sense has been that the Democrats have won more for being the “not Trump” party than due to any positive association in voters’ minds.

Polls show that the party has a brand problem — one they may be able to overcome while Trump is on the ballot, but which will surely be lurking afterwards. But conventions are nothing if not branding exercises; the Democrats’ this past week reflected a party trying to forge a new identity. So what if it meant pissing off some members of their coalition and cribbing several major Republican talking points? The convention showed a party was a party that wants to win — not just against Donald Trump, but after him too — and is willing to remake itself to do it. The Democrats appeared keenly aware of their worst stereotypes and came prepared with carefully calibrated, poll-tested responses to each one.

Soft on crime? “After decades in law enforcement, I know the importance of safety and security,” Vice President Kamala Harris said, in an acceptance speech that returned repeatedly to her experience as a prosecutor. Weak on national security? “I will never hesitate to take whatever action is necessary to defend our forces and our interests,” she declared. Afraid of military might? “I will ensure America always has the strongest, most lethal fighting force in the world,” Harris said. Judgmental? Nearly ever major DNC speaker took pains to offer grace to conservatives, instead of scorning them, from former President Barack Obama noting that when “a parent or grandparent occasionally says something that makes us cringe, we don’t automatically assume they’re bad people” to Oprah Winfrey promising that “we are not so different from our neighbors.”

Unpatriotic? When Harris walked onto the stage, the crowd didn’t chant “Kamala” or “We’re not going back” or any of the other slogans in their arsenal. They chanted “USA.” In fact, “USA” chants were heard every night of the convention, often during almost every speech. Attendees held aloft “USA” signs and American flags; later, when they were handed long “Kamala” signs ahead of her acceptance speech, many delegates stuck the American flag on top of them, so that when they cheered for Harris, the floor remained a sea of flags. Many of these epithets are labels that have haunted Democrats for decades, stretching back into the 1970s and in some cases even earlier. In that time, Republicans have reliably been the party that has wrapped themselves in the flag and projected a tough image on national defense and law and order, so much so that the scene from the United Center sometimes seemed straight out of an RNC. Harris also seemed to determined to break with the long Democratic tradition of condescension, from “egghead” Adlai Stevenson to “elitist” Hillary Clinton and her “basket of deplorables.” This convention was one of the first times they seemed conscious of it, and actively tried to move in another direction.

The whole event was a far cry from 2020, when Democrats allowed themselves to become the party of “defund the police” and the academic alphabet soup of DEI and CRT. In just four years, the party went from declaring in their platform that “Democrats believe we need to overhaul the criminal justice system from top to bottom,” because “police brutality is a stain on the soul of our nation,” to pledging to put “more police officers on the beat” in the 2024 version. “We need to fund the police, not defund the police,” the party’s platform now reads. Attendees cheered when a sheriff made that same point on Thursday, something that would have sounded unbelievable to 2020 ears. (As would the nomination of a former prosecutor.) It was also a departure from 2016, when identity ruled the day as Hillary Clinton reminded delegates that she was the first woman nominated for the presidency. Harris never once referred to the fact that she was only the second female nominee, and first Black female nominee, allowing the delegates wearing suffragette white to serve as the lone nod to her history-making nomination.

Other typically Democratic elements were airbrushed from the speech as well. Issues that poll well, like abortion, were emphasized. Issues that poll poorly, like climate change and transgender issues, were mentioned once and not at all, respectively, by Harris. (Democratic fears of yet another label — “woke” — were clear.) These decisions angered some activists, as did the exclusion of a Palestinian-American speaker, but after years of attempting to please every segment of their varied coalition, Democrats have made the cold calculation that the voters they truly need to target are the plurality in the middle. Just as they pushed out Joe Biden in service of chasing victory, evincing little emotional attachment to an aging leader, the party seems newly willing to spite its fringes to save its power.

[...] For me, one of the most enduring images of the convention will be the two young men standing near me who looked like they could have been straight out of a Barstool video — a demographic Democrats have struggled with — screaming “USA” with a fierce intensity. In reality, though, these young men are a Democratic minority: only 29% of Democrats told Gallup they are “extremely proud” to be Americans last year; 60% of Republicans did so. I think back to the conference of young Democrats I covered last year, when a speaker asked how many attendees are “patriotic” and only a scattering of hands went up. [...] The Democratic convention showed a party playing to win, unlike the Republican convention in July, which showed a party that believed it already had. The DNC also showed a party preparing for the future — parading its bench, shaving down its harsher edges to position itself for campaigns against post-Trump opponents — in stark contrast to the Trump-centric RNC. At the same time as Trump appears distracted, Democrats have never seemed more laser-focused on pursuing victory.

Gabe Fleisher wrote in Friday’s Wake Up To Politics newsletter on the Democratic Party’s image makeover that was on display at the DNC by taking the freedom and patriotism mantle and ran with it, while jettisoning or downplaying themes prevalent in the 2016 and 2020 editions.

[nooblord9001]

Thoughts on the Graves parents? I saw a video detailing all the... well, details we have on them, and I think they're pretty interesting in their own right, though of course it's all in service of the main characters

Also do you think Andrew's conception was unplanned, unlike Ashley's?

Holy shit, my first ever Tumblr ask?! (not including the ones where the night elves are having a normal one in the inboxes of people who speak positively of Lily lol)

ty ty ty ty ty--!

*sees it's TCoA&L related*

💀 ...welp, guess it's time to make an ass outta myself!

*grabs the stepladder and yoinks the basket that Lily accurately-labeled "Flowers in The Attic but it was made by the folks behind Llamas With Hats" and placed on the top shelf*

Going only off what I've personally observed, I consider the parents to be the "actual" villains of TCoA&L: it seems pretty cut-and-dry that Andrew was unintended (hell, I don't even think Ashley was intended; IIRC Mrs. Graves had her when she was 17, and I just don't see a teenager putting life into the world intentionally), and instead of doing the responsible thing at-- what was she? 15?! --and getting an abortion (or at the very least, giving the kid up for adoption), she tried to play 1950's Nuclear Family in a late 90's/early-2000's economic landscape where such a lifestyle would be completely unsustainable.

So when Ashley reaches the age where the Nuclear Family model's worst weaknesses rear their ugly head, instead of Actually taking responsibility and sending Ashley to a therapist, Mrs. Graves-- in her infinite, galaxy-brained wisdom 🙄🙄 --decides to dump a possibly-neurodivergent girl onto her barely-older brother. As Lily pointed out in her video, any psychologist worth their license would tell you that is the single worst thing to do in Mrs. Graves' situation short of disowning and abandoning the child completely.

By the time Bonnie & Clyde: Ohio Edition have grown up, Mrs. Graves somehow still hasn't even tried to put two-and-two together as to what the actual fucking problem is (hint: it's not Ashley, and it's definitely not Andrew), throws her kids to the wolves and has the audacity to try celebrating that the two are "No longer her problem." Mrs. Graves is the type of woman who would vote for the Leopards Eating Peoples' Faces party.

Look, I'm not a psychologist, a victim of parent-on-child abuse (at least not to the extent that would provide relevant experience to this conversation-- at most, I was neglected by my bio-mom for the first three years of my life, and then promptly adopted by Mom who's unironically The Best), or even that particularly good at character/media analysis, but it's pretty open-and-shut to me that 90% of the awful shit these characters go through could've been avoided if Mrs. Graves and her husband ever wised the hell up and realize the shitshow they've put their family in.

anyways 10/10 ig well done Nemlei in making a detestable villain no cap 😅

[zaryaismywifey]

Valentine's Day Special - Zarya x Reader (Female) [Soft Angst]

A/N:

I've not proofread this, but I wanted to post a little something something. It has a little angst. Not too much, but felt like writing a tenser story, but there are lots of romantic and (somewhat) cute moments! Let me know if you'd also like to see some pure fluff posted later today.

Happy Valentine's Day my loves <3

-=+=-

You sit down on the couch with your eyes glued to the television. A movie plays. It is such a boring movie that you couldn’t describe the plot even if you tried to. You sink further into the couch. You’d been sitting there pretty much the entire day. A light sigh leaves your throat as the movie comes to its conclusion. You reach onto your coffee table for your cellphone after hearing a notification.

The notification label reads ‘10 Missed Calls From Zarya’. Your ex-girlfriend that you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to block. There’s even more notifications from messages. You haven’t opened them as yet. 

You decide to open Instagram, and have a scrolling session. Posts of your friends and their valentines flood your feed. It causes you to nearly fling your cellphone across the room.

You stop yourself after scrolling across a post from Zarya. It is a picture of her post-workout at the gym. She’s drenched in sweat, dressed in a black tanktop and sitting one on of the weight-lifting benches. The caption reads, ‘I can bench press more than you.’

Your finger accidentally lands on her profile picture, and it opens up her story post. It’s a post-workout mirror selfie. She just a sports bra on and a towel draped on her shoulders. She’s smiling on the picture. Probably so proud from all the progress that she’s been making.  It’s so cute that you find yourself smiling too.

Shit. 

You decide to just turn your phone off. Immediately regretting touching social media. Just as you were about to tune back into whatever was playing on the television, you hear a knock on the front door. It’s on the firmer side, so you immediately know who it is. 

Standing up, and wrapping your blanket around yourself, you look to the door. Okay. It shouldn’t be hard to tell her off once and for all, so that she could finally be out of your life. Your heart beat picks up as you get closer and closer to the door. Finally, you open the door.

Zarya stands, holding probably one of the biggest Valentine’s Day baskets you’ve ever seen. Her eyes widen and her face completely lights up when she sees you. She sets the basket down. 

“Hello, maly-” She stops herself mid-sentence. “Sorry.” 

She’s not her usual, confident self. She seems a lot more emotionally vulnurable. Her eyes meet yours for just a moment, and your heart skips a beat. 

Unsure of what to say, you greet her with silence. She softens even more.

“Is there… something you need?” You ask her, starring down at the floor. You can’t look at her.

“May I enter?” She asks.

“Okay,” You answer without thinking. 

You clear the doorway. Zarya picks up the huge basket. She has to turn side-ways and manuver it carefully to actually get it in.

Your apartment is a little messier than usual. There’s a bit of out-of-place clothes and books all scattered about. You clear some space on the couch for the both of you.

There’s some silence between the two of you again. Zarya decides to break it.

“I didn’t mean to show up unnaccounced. I want to give you your space… and I will.  I want you to please give me a chance to apologize,” Zarya starts. 

Her eyes look around the room, as if she’s looking for her words. 

“You’re going to find a way to justify cheating?” You ask her. “Go right ahead. I would love to hear your excuses.”

“No. No, of course not,” Zarya immediately shakes her head. 

“Then what did you come here to say? What have you been fucking non-stop calling me for? That you’re sorry? You told me the day that I caught you.”

“ I came to say that  it was wrong of me. Horrible. One of the worst things I could have done to you and I still do not forgive myself for it. It does not matter how drunk I was, it should not have happened.” Zarya explains. Her words come out firmly, as if she’s went over them in her head.

You feel a growing pain at the back of your throat. Your eyes close shut for a few moments. It is hard to keep them open. You look away. Then you let out the words, “You really hurt me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

Zarya slowly raises her arm, as if she wants to place it on my shoulder, but she stops herself. Tears now streaming down her face, she looks to the door. It was probably the first time you’ve seen her this upset. 

“I’m so sorry, solnyshko,” She continues. “I hope that you accept this gift, and I promise that I will never contact you again.”

Zarya hands you the basket. It’s so heavy that you nearly dropped it and stuffed to the brink with your favorite candies and assorted valentine’s related items. 

You nod, setting the basket down by your feet. Zarya stands. She takes a deep breath, and makes her way back to my front door.

 “That gift doesn’t make up for things, I know, but I didn’t want you to have a horrible holiday on my behalf.”

Halfway through her opening the door, you call out to her. “Wait, one second.”

She stops immediately, quite taken aback. “Yes?”

“You left this,” You inform her, swiftly getting up and attempting to pick up one of the

weights she’d left behind from last week. The thing is small, but incredibly heavy. You struggle to pick it up. Zarya walks up to you.

“Don’t worry, I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I’ve got it,” She reassuures, picking it up easily. For a moment, her hand touches yours. 

“Also…I appreciate the gift,” You affirm, almost out of nowhere.

“Understood, I’m so happy to hear that,” Zarya nods, a smile playing on her lips.

As much as you couldn’t forgive her, you couldn’t help but reach out and hold her free hand. Your fingertips connect, and you look up at her. Her eyes connect with yours and you exchange another moment of silence. Zarya sets down the weight and wraps her arms around

you, pulling you into a soft, gentle embrace. You melt into her touch. A feeling you’ve longed for since the last time you’ve seen her. You wipe away at her tears, and getting up on your tippy toes, without thinking, your lips crash into hers. For a moment, I feel her kiss me back, but then she pulls away. 

Shocked, but still looking into your eyes, she asks “Milashka. Are you sure?”

“I… don’t know. Please don’t leave me alone right now. Please don’t go. Fuck- I missed you so fucking much. Your stupid fucking face,” You start, but your promptly caught off by Zarya kissing you. It is a gentle kiss. More gentle than it has even been.

 Zarya picks you up, bridal style, and sets you down on the couch. She straddles you. Your breathing picks up. You lean up, pulling her into another kiss. It’s sloppy. Messy. Desperate. It feels as if it lasts forever. Then, both of you find yourselves catching a breath and looking into each other’s eyes. 

“Let me know. Okay? I'll stay here as long as you want to me.” Zarya breathes out raspily. She places her hand on your cheek, circling it with her thumb. Her thumb grazes your bottom lip. You both kiss once more before she sits up.

You sit up, leaning on her arm. She looks at the television.

"Okay," You nod. Her face lights up and she smiles widely.

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Rose Daughter

Prompts: Every day. Monster, fear, cold sweat. Celebrity.

Group: B

-

Tomorrow

“You’re late, dearie.”

Belle jolts, whirling around, her feet skidding on the shelf of wet rock. She manages to keep her balance, wobbling on the edge of the crystalline pool. Two dark eyes bob above the water, sharp and observant, unsympathetic to her flailing.

“I’ve told you not to sneak up on me like that,” she huffs.

The creature lifts further out of the water, looking menacing with his mane of matted curls hanging in his face. Then, he shakes his head like a wet dog and grins.

“Your lack of spa-cial aware-ness has naught to do with me.”

The words are stodgy in his mouth, so he pronounces them slowly. These were acquired from the book she read aloud to him yesterday. Rumple’s mind was a funny wee lagoon; when she cast new words into it, they usually resurfaced as ammunition to tease her.

He slithers to the pool’s edge, moving through the water like an eel. He props his elbows up on the rocks.

“You’re late,” he says again.

“How can you even tell?”

His crocodilian eyes shift to a silver pocket watch that dangles from a knobbly finger of overhanging rock. It looks suspiciously like the one that used to hang from a fob on Jefferson’s waistcoat.

Belle’s lips press into a thin line. “Yes, well, it’s becoming quite tricky to leave my house without being badgered about another ‘recovery mission’. I think I might need to start charging for my services. You’re becoming too…popular in the village.”

Notorious is a more appropriate term, but she knows he would enjoy that label far too much.

It is not uncommon to see Finfolk off the coast of the Orkney Islands. It is, however, unheard of to catch more than a glimpse of talon and tail as they steal a fish off the end of your line. They don’t linger near the shore. And they certainly don’t take up residence in a grotto at the base of the headland, transforming the limestone ledges into a personal museum of pilfered trinkets.

“I hear you’ve been tipping rowboats again,” she says.

“Shouldn’t have rowed so close to the cave,” he trills, “Def-ini-tely shouldn’t have been out on the water if you don’t know how to swim.”

Rumple’s behavior has elevated him from overgrown sardine to local celebrity; a spectacle at the best of times and a menace at the worst. And when Belle’s routine visits to the grotto became public knowledge, the villagers thrust a title upon her as well. Hostage negotiator.

She scans the cave, searching for possible new additions to his hoard. She feels like she’s playing one of those ‘spot the difference’ games they print on children’s menus. Ah, there. Coiled around a stalagmite is a heart-shaped locket, its ruby pendant winking in the reflection of the pool.

“You know, Miss Lucas used to have a necklace just like that. She took it off to swim one afternoon and, by the time she’d paddled back to the docks, it had vanished.”

“Extra-ordin-ary coincidence.” His expression might have looked innocent on a small boy or a puppy, but it only succeeds in making him look all the more devilish.

Belle shakes her head and bends down to unravel the locket. She pockets it, ignoring his cry of protest.

“And I’m going to need the tackle box you nicked from Marco’s boat.”

He scowls up at her. She can just imagine his tail flicking with irritation. He must have known she’d come asking for that particular prize, as he’d stashed it beneath the water rather than displaying it above.

“What if I trade you for it?” she offers.

His gaze darts to the basket cradled in the crook of her arm. His furrowed brow gives a faint twitch, his resolve instantly weakening. Hook. Line. Sinker.

With a profane grumble, he ducks back under the water. His vocabulary has been increasing in color ever since he started spying on the sailors at the docks.

Belle watches him disappear into the deep as she sits down at the pool’s edge and begins unlacing her boots. She has learned the hard way that heels have rubbish traction.

Some say that jewelry and fishing gear aren’t all that the Fin like to steal. The villagers tell tales of those that have been ferried away to a kingdom beneath the waves. The legends serve as requiems for the men and women who were dragged to the depths and eternally imprisoned in unlawful marriages to the Fins that snatched them. Belle thinks that’s nonsense. The Finfolk detest humans and – typically – want as little to do with them as possible. It would be like kidnapping a cockroach from the gutter to keep as a pet.

Still, the superstition persists. Even when begging her to rescue his tackle box from the sea beast’s lair, Marco had cautioned, “Be careful, girl. He’ll steal you too, if he gets the chance.”

Belle dips her toes into the cool water. Marco’s words echo in her mind as she feels a clawed hand latch onto her ankle. Her scream bounces off the cave walls. Rumple’s head breaches the water’s surface again, eyes glinting with wicked glee.

“…for…for god’s sake, Rumple,” she gasps, pressing her hand over her chest, trying to work her heart out of her throat.

He laughs, baring two rows of razor-sharp teeth. She’s reminded of what a terror he must be to unsuspecting fishermen.

His grin wanes when it comes time to surrender his treasure. Rumple reluctantly hands over the tackle box, looking so forlorn that she almost regrets taking it from him. She knows how enamored he is with the little lures and bobbers.

He plants both hands on the rock and, lean muscles straining, heaves himself up onto the rim beside her. His tail hits the stone with a wet slap.

No artist has ever truly rendered the ethereal beauty of a Fin. They refuse to be pinned to a canvas and captured in a frame. There is no shade of paint that can reproduce the exact green-gold color of their tails, nor their iridescent quality in the sunlight. Belle’s eyes follow the scales up his body to where they become a smattering over his belly, just about where most human men have a trail of fine hair.

Aware of where her eyes are fixed, Rumple reaches for the basket with both hands like an impatient child. Her reflexes are a tad quicker and she slides it out of reach.

“No. Don’t grab. It’s not polite.”

He gives her a rude gesture – something else he undoubtedly picked up from the sailors. The effect is somewhat less potent with his webbed fingers.

After the thermos of hot chocolate had gone down so well last week, Belle suspects his serrated teeth might be quite sweet. She produces a small bundle from the basket, unwrapping the gingham handkerchief to reveal a crumbly stack of homemade shortbread. Rumple peers at it, captivated as the scent of honey and coriander hits his nose.

“Dry your hands first or it’ll go all mushy.”

Rumple does dry his hands; not on the handkerchief, but on her jumper, his talons snagging the woolen yellow fibers on her sleeve. He swipes a wedge before she can delay him any longer.

He takes a small, suspicious bite. She can tell the exact moment that the butter-rich biscuit dissolves on his tongue. His eyes go wide and he looks to her with such childlike delight, it makes her heart beat wildly against her rib cage.

“There are otters up the coastline. They have pups,” he says suddenly, as though trying to bolster his half of the trade. “I’ll take you to see them.”

“I’m not dressed for swimming.”

He rolls his eyes. That isn’t something he learned from the sailors. That is something he adopted from her.

“You can’t get these clothes wet, but you can put on different clothes speci-fic-ally to get wet?”

He wrinkles his nose indignantly. His derisive ‘urgh, humans’ is unspoken, but is heard all the same.

“I’ll wear something suitable tomorrow. You can bring me then.”

Tomorrow. He loves that word more than anything.

His sullen expression melts away. He leans in expectantly. Now, this is special. This is something he taught her. Belle meets him halfway, resting her forehead against his. His crooked nose presses into her cheek, their faces slotting together like two puzzle pieces. They stare at one another for a long, quiet moment. His lips twist into a lopsided smile and he pulls back.

That means, ‘I’m happy’. It means, ‘thank you’.

It means, ‘love you’.

Rumple’s tail thumps the rock again, splashing water over her legs, the droplets clinging to her calves like a sheen of cold sweat. She watches him examine a second piece of shortbread like it’s made of solid gold.

‘Yes, tomorrow’, Belle thinks, smiling down at where his fin grazes her ankles.

‘Perhaps he’ll steal me tomorrow.’

-

[skeleboys-askblog]

✧Here’s some of mod Scorpii’s headcanons for Calibri while I work on his designs.✧

(Also!! Me and Bee’s headcanons might not always line up with each other’s so we’ll be labeling them and tagging them with either #Scorpii’s headcanons🦂 or #Bee’s headcanons🐝 respectively!!! Ty :-)!!!)

✧I think Calibri would be a total deadhead!! He’s really into psychedelic rock and has a Grateful Dead hoodie he wears everywhere.

✧He definitely flunked high school really bad. He’d show up to class absolutely zooted at 7 A.M. and just coast through the day on nothing but vibes and the edible in his pocket. Papyrus made him at least get his GED afterwards.

✧He totally models his guitar playing after Jimi Hendrix, and Napstaton samples his riffs for his music.

✧That being said!! Calibri definitely has access to Napstaton’s official social media and posts the worst things imaginable on his professional account. It’s always like low res images of Goku with captions like “shidded” and then nothing else.

✧Calibri is the chill homie harboring an unfathomable amount of sadness.

✧Like, his inferiority complex has only gotten worse with age (He’d be about 19-21 in our future au) To be honest, he’s a total basket case that really wants to change, but is too scared to put in the effort.

✧He brings a “we should all quit” vibe to the work place that managers don’t really like.

✧Expanding on that; he’s been fired from pretty much every single job he’s had until Napstaton gave him a job at his record store/radio station.

✧He previously worked at a movie theater and helped kids sneak in to shows through the back, but eventually got caught.

✧Calibri can give you solid music recommendations based on your vibes alone and he’s got a 99% success rate.

✧He asked Trajan to be his trip sitter one time, but as soon as the shrooms hit he got terrified of Trajan’s four eyes and locked himself in the laundry room.

✧He and Hapstablook love to cook together!! He also cooks with Sans too, but it can get to be a really exhausting couple of hours trying to wrangle him into actually cooking the taco meat. So Calibri really values his time with Hapstablook cause it’s usually just a very sweet and calming experience.

✧The bandana in my new design for him is from his uncle Sans 🫶 he has like, a million and wanted Calibri to match with him.

✧He’d rather die than cut his hair.

✧Calibri’s style now leans more into a hippie-punk kinda look, mainly cause he aligns himself with most of the ideals of both subcultures.

Here’s my sketch of his new design so far!! I’ll have a more confident piece for him, this is just a lazy slap-together.

He’s got on that stupid Grateful Dead hoodie and a battle vest full of patches of all his favorite artists.

Never ditched the chucks! He still rocks with his converse- and his fingerless gloves.

He doesn’t tie his hair up as often anymore, but he does dress it up with that bandana that I mentioned!

His tank top underneath has a Misfits logo on it 💪

And that’s a crazy ass monster boof from the Hot-Lands so who knows what’s actually in it.

-Scorpii

[ur-fav-alien]

Chocolate

Orange Cassidy/Danhausen , past Hook/Danhausen Fluff? But Also angst? Not sure Hook can't bring himself to stop staring (thank you Lipton for giving me this prompt mwah!!)

Hook has been staring at them for the past 20 minutes. He hadn’t looked away once. 

And what could Hook be staring at? What could capture his most undivided attention? 

Orange Cassidy feeding Danhausen different Easter treats they had been gifted in a care basket from Tony Khan. 

Hook didn’t know why Danhausen was here. He should’ve been home resting with his torn pec, but no. He was here, backstage, giggling like a little girl with Orange Cassidy. And the worst part of it all? Hook wasn’t allowed to get angry. Danhausen and him weren’t together, they hadn’t been together for almost a year now. 

They could’ve been together if Hook wasn’t the world’s biggest pussy. They had a couple of ‘hangouts’ before and after their tag team match, and a couple more rendezvous between that time, but it was nothing. That meant nothing if you couldn’t slap a label on it, and Hook just couldn’t do it. 

He wasn’t one for relationships, and Danhausen started making him one for relationships. It was scary, so he ran away. He told Danhausen he didn’t need him anymore, and that was it. 

So now, for the past year, Hook has had to deal with the budding love between Orange and Danhausen… Orangehausen, as they had been called by multiple people. 

It made him gag. 

Hook had to watch Danhausen be ringside at all of Orange’s matches, had to watch Orange growl and bare his teeth at anyone who fucked with Danhausen, had to watch the two of them be the cutest almost-couple ever. 

No, couple, not almost-couple, sadly. Hook had found out a month ago. He had been tapping through snapchat stories when, in the background of one Austin Gunn selfie, Orange’s lips were just about grazing Danhausen’s with a smile on both of their faces. 

It had made his heart stop. Orange had done the thing that Hook had been too scared to do. He had made himself Danhausen’s boyfriend. 

Orange’s eyes connected with Hook’s. A dead, lazy stare. Hook didn’t know how some nonchalant son of a bitch bagged the world’s most hyperactive golden retriever. 

A smirk curled at the corner of Orange’s lips, and Hook’s face twisted in confusion. There was an evil look in Orange’s eyes. Hook felt very uncomfortable. 

Without looking away, he picked up a square piece of chocolate and put it between his teeth, leaving half of his sticking out of his mouth. Orange only looked away to tap Danhausen on the jaw to get his attention. Danhausen perked up, and Orange raised his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Danhausen does not eat from other people’s mouths.” 

There was a look in Orange’s eyes. I’m not like other people, he was saying silently… I’m not like Hook. 

That simple change in Cassidy’s gaze was enough to make Danhausen cave in, so he leaned in. Orange’s eyes went back to Hook’s, that sick and twisted asshole. He was doing to push Hook’s buttons, to laugh in his face, to just bully him. This was bullying! 

Hook couldn’t look away, though. He couldn’t look away as Danhausen bit down into the chocolate and got pulled into a kiss by Orange. He couldn’t look away as Orange’s hand threaded through Danhausen’s hair. Couldn’t tear his eyes away as Orange kissed Danhausen with so much more passion than Hook could’ve ever given him. 

The only reason Hook looked away was because the tears in his eyes started hurting and the tightness in his throat made him yearn for some kind of hydration. He got up out of his seat in the lounge and tried to make it seem like he wasn’t booking it straight for the door, just quickly walking to the water refill station. 

The giggle and moan that Danhausen let out when he first got pulled in burned itself into Hook’s memory, playing over and over again. 

He could’ve been in Orange’s position if he wasn’t such a pussy, but no. 

Stupid Orange Cassidy…

[leathfaic]

I can take over the world because you're mine

"Dare." 

“Fuckin’ again?” 

Bear shrugged at Daithí's exasperated expression “No rules against picking the same answer a few times in a row.”, ignoring Vice’s “Oh you are an arsehole and should be glad I like you so much” noise. It was something between an annoyed huff and a snicker and she had it down perfectly, it did its job every time, making Bear incredibly glad to be loved by someone like Vice and feel a little called out. Leaning to the left they pressed a quick kiss to Daithí’s pouting face before snatching the bottle back and taking a hefty swig.

To be fair ‘a few times’ was relative, Bear was aware they hadn’t picked anything else all night. Had been subjected to a few of Vice’s creative ideas for it too. Taking a shot while standing on their hands. Guessing how many fags were left in Daithí’s pack (easy, none since Bear had stolen the last one hours ago.). Were pretty sure they also had to do Daithí’s laundry for a whole month. As if the sneaky fucker didn’t already put some of his into both their and Vice’s laundry basket. Acting all surprised when he was handed the clean clothes back. Not that Bear really minded, sighing and exchanging a knowing look with Vice whenever it happened. Now they just had an official excuse. But with all of them, Bear had successfully dodged having to reveal any embarrassing truths so far. 

“Fine, a dare then, pick something else.” he leaned in and pressed a kiss of his own to Bear's cheek. 

Proving that Bear's quick distraction hadn’t worked on him at all.  Instead, there was that flicker in his eyes that he always got when he challenged Bear. That warranted another big gulp and a contemplative stare at the label. The label stared back, Tullamore Dew Honey, a bottle that had ended up in Bear's hands not at all by accident. Same with the bottle of Jameson that was currently pointing accusingly at Bear had found its way into Daithí’s. 

The last deployment had been a crushing success, a mission of unusual size putting all able operators into the field and everyone else into a field base to ensure it would run as smoothly as possible.  

The entirety of the Apocrita in motion was a sight to behold and a terror to confront. Their enemies never had a chance, just the way Bear liked it. 

No casualties on their side either, something else Bear liked very much. The worst injuries were scratches, bruises, and minor cuts. Many had been limping but seemed fine already. 

So they did the only thing that was left to do after coming home, got out of gear that had been worn at least three days too long, showered and bitched about small things. And then without previous agreement assembled in the gym, the largest common room on the base, and celebrated what they’d done. 

It was an awkward affair at first, until someone, Aspen? Badger?, had the good sense to get everyone a bottle of one of their preferred poisons in hand. 

Suddenly shoulders sagged, and stress melted away. It wasn’t even everyone drinking, but the initial relaxation was enough to drag everyone along, even if it was just hot cocoa in their hands. Maybe not the healthiest way to deal with post-op tension, but if you had to get an entire base coming down with it at once, certainly an efficient one. If nothing else most of them would sleep soundly tonight.

By now most of the party had dissolved, and Daithí’s drink ended up mostly in him and Bear, Vice preferring whatever American thing she was drinking. Whatever it was it kept her a disgusting level of sober in Bear's eyes. And yet it had been Vice, all big puppy eyes dragging them to an empty room giddy with excitement when she proposed the game and Daithí had just wordlessly taken the last swig of Jameson putting the bottle down between them. Both looking at Bear who’d been about to explain that spin-the-bottle sounded so fucking childish. Who had sat down instead because fuck it, those were their lovers and they were nothing if not putty in their hands anyways. So maybe it was childish, or maybe that was the all-famed German seriousness sounding off and about to push a stick up Bear's arse, who fucking knew. 

A long look at Daithí, then at Vice. Both of them looked back expectantly. “Fine, fuck, Wahrheit.” they growled. It was ridiculous how the two of them made Bear crumble. How their heart did a little leap at the joined cheers. 

“So that one is easy honey,” Vice was way too quick on the draw with that, probably prepared it well ahead “Mommy or Daddy issues? Which one is it for you?”

Bear just stared. And then opted to drink again. Remembering that it had been Vice’s turn to dare them from the start. So much for Daithí and distractions. 

“Both actually.”

Dai inserted his hand between Bears and the bottle, stealing the drink away. Fair considering they were sharing this like they had the other whiskey before. Terribly rude considering Bear's dramatic need to drink between every spoken sentence.

“It’s stupid and dramatic and you definitely need to get me again with that bottle before I tell you that bullshit.” 

“Alright chief sounds like a lot to unpack, but I’ll make sure to remember that.” Vice gave them one of her winks that had Bear roll their eyes and grin before she added in a softer tone “But only if you do wanna talk about it.” leaned over for a quick reassuring kiss.

Bear just shrugged. "Dai's guaranteed to get a fucking kick out of it and you're going laugh your arse off. It's fine." 

They finally leaned forward to spin the bottle again. 

Don't you fucking dare stop right here again. 

The bottle, wiser than one would expect from an inanimate piece of glass skidded past bears position as it came to a stop, pointing slightly to the left of Daithí, but clearly still on him. 

"Wahrheit oder Pflicht?" 

Daithí smiled back wide, "Just to show you that it doesn't hurt mo chroi, I'll take Truth."

Bear wanted to groan. Wanted to hide their face in Vice's shoulder and tell her how unfair it was that Dai managed to make their stomach flip with his endearment. Only that would mean they'd be so close to Vice that that would get them too, her warmth, her smell, the persistent hint of engine oil that made Bear consider rolling around in a substance definitely not designed for it.

Fuck, the whiskey was definitely getting to them. Who the fuck thinks about rolling in fucking engine oil while having romantic thoughts. Fucking ridiculous.

"What's the story behind that one?" Bear leaned forward, pushing their own thoughts aside and pointing at the spot they knew to hold the tattoo on Dai's left bicep. 

It showed a bottle with a ship on rough waves in it and a person that had either fallen or crawled halfway through the bottle's neck with only their legs and arse sticking out.

Bear loved it. Loved the fucking whimsy of it, loved tracing the lines of the waves when Dai fell asleep between them and Vice. But they'd never asked about it. Might as well now, the mood was about to drop either way soon.

"Ah, always loved Alice in Wonderland." he smiled weakly and took a swig from the bottle. "Was a nice fantasy world to flee to when home was…wasn't fun. Thought I'd have my own little potion bottle to carry around with me." 

His words were full to the brim with unspoken, unhealed hurt and Bear felt the need to launch themself across the space between them. 

"Hey," Vice's voice interrupted Bears thoughts "You told me it was a bottle of Jack Daniels the first week here." 

Daithí’s sadness vanished, immediately replaced with a mischievous grin. 

"Why did Bear get the truth and I didn't you little fuck?" 

Bear leaned back, smiling and letting the gentle bickering commence.

"Because I have known them for more than three days now! And because it's funny when random people believe it and start interpreting that mo chuisle." 

Vice huffed, trying not to be immediately pacified by the pet name and obviously failing. 

"Used to tell civvies in Germany that the one on my thigh was a sex thing." Bear grins, granting Vice a few more seconds to seem unbothered. "Always worked, especially considering the fact I was usually gone in the morning.”

“Filthy-mouthed liars, the two of you.” Vice mumbles, still accusingly but also leaning over to kiss Dai on the arm, where the fabric hid the tattoo and then on the mouth, still trying for a pouty smile but quickly losing that battle.

And Bear is still too occupied with smiling warmly and widely, feeling the damn butterflies in their stomach do loops when looking at the two of them, to even consider threatening the bottle that Dai spins it again. 

That turns out to be a mistake. It’s like the damn thing can fucking smell their moment of distraction. 

“Oh darling,” Vice is definitely back to fully amused, “I don’t think you can scare it into moving more.” Well maybe not, but Bear can certainly try. Technically it would move if kicked, couldn’t point anywhere when shattered right?

Could see Dai open their mouth to assure them it was fine if they didn’t want to talk about it no doubt. Couldn’t have that though, Bear considered themself lots of things but certainly not a coward. 

“Truth it is.” 

They just held out their hand and Dai, bless his soul, handed the bottle back with no hesitation. Bear let the honey sweetness and the smoothness of the whiskey wash over their tongue, watching their lovers exchange a look, glancing back at them, then looking at each other again. 

Almost sweeter than the honey in their drink, their concern about hurting Bear. In the beginning, the care had been almost irritating, something they had decided they’d never feel again. Vice could never have known that though and even if Daithí knew parts of it. If. Even he wouldn’t have been able to understand. 

And so they smashed through all of Bear's walls like they were paper thin and Bear, who’d already been fighting a feeling of belonging with the whole new force they were assigned to had been overpowered and outmatched. Fucking flanked. Point blank shot by cupids arrow. The little bastard even double-tapped. Probably instinct since the last projectile stuck in Bear really hadn’t done a great job. 

Outgunned like that even Bear had to admit that fighting was for once, not the way to go. Love is the sweetest surrender and all that bullshit. 

Daithí sighed, somewhere between exasperation and fondness when Bear blinked back from their brief swooning session, sure that it had been painted all over their face, “What the fuck is up with all those parental issues love?” 

“Short version is I ruined my father's life and forced my mum to be a mother which was the last thing in all existence that she should have been, or wanted to be really.” 

Bear could feel the urge to keep drinking build up and instead passed the bottle to Vice, who took a small sip before she grimaced and handed it to Daithí immediately. 

“So the part that sounds like a bad sitcom is my father, yeah?” Unbidden their father's face came to mind all red tousled hair and blue eyes, always looking sad. Yeah, no wonder that. 

“He’s the Irish one,” they knew that already but it mattered so Bear just went on “grew up all proper catholic. Was really into it too. More than most people are. Always had one dream when growing up, wanted to become a priest, or bishop if he could. Hell, I don’t fucking know, might have been shooting for Pope in his little catholic daydreams.”

There was a look of confusion on Vice’s face now that was only matched by the one of foreboding on Daithís.

Without even thinking Bear took the bottle back and made the swig count before handing it to Vice.

“Had it all laid out too, proper catholic school, got into the Trinity College in Dublin, guaranteed a spot in seminary when his bachelor was done. Should have gone swimmingly.” 

Und das war des Pudels Kern, es hätte alles glattgehen sollen. Nicht das Konjuktive hilfreich waren wenn Bärs ganz eigene Magie im Spiel war. 

“They did some exchange programme, you know, get the weans out to see the world before they swear themselves off to their god. Freshly reunited Germany, deepest Rhineland-Palatine, all nice and conservative. Got some fine old churches to ogle too. Stayed in a lovely little town called Kusel. Not the biggest but it turns out there was a disco that the local youths frequented.” 

Somehow the bottle was offered from their left again, Bear didn’t even question it, drank and kept it. 

“Kinda easy to see where this is going, even theology students go for a dance sometimes. And sometimes they get drunk. And drunk people tend to forget how dedicated they are to god and might just hook up with an equally drunk girl. Not even 18 and equally as stupid as her male counterpart.”

At least Bear couldn’t fault their father, they knew the pictures her mother kept of her youth. She’d been stunning before constant anger painted permanent lines on her. Light blond hair to her thighs, bright blue eyes, her full lips always smiling back then.

“Da made it back none the wiser, went back to his studies until he suddenly gets called into the dean's office, gets asked all these very pointed questions. Turns out a very upset German woman had called and ripped him a new one. Something about one of their students impregnating her daughter.” 

Bear couldn’t help the disdainful noise that slipped from their lips. The issue could have ended there with a quick doctor's visit, but of course, it didn’t. 

“Both families are awfully traditional. Abortion was never an option. Instead, my father got the bollocking of the century at home, dean had informed his parenrs the second the story had been confirmed. Of course, he had to marry the girl too, she’d already brought enough shame to her family by getting pregnant by a stranger. They were both too scared and young to really say no, got married a month later, all proper catholic too.” 

The amused sound from Daithí’s side made them smile, and they handed the almost empty bottle back after sipping again.

“Can’t be a catholic priest if you’re married. Or divorced for that matter. Not that it mattered, the family would have torn him to pieces if he’d considered divorce. So my father got stuck with a lifetime of regrets and ‘what-ifs’ over a few too many. My mum got told she was the victim so often she just took to it, probably wasn’t that hard with all the trauma of the situation. Only she genuinely liked my father for what it's worth, so as soon as she had someone else to blame she did. ‘Biggest mistake of their lives’” Bear raised their hand mockingly like they were in school “That would be me. Made sure I knew it too. Father dearest buried himself in his work, trying not to be where he clearly didn’t want to be. Mum took matters more into her hands though, words didn’t quite do it for her I guess.” 

Silence hung in the room, heavy and consuming. They could see their lovers trying for words. Words Bear really didn’t want to hear. 

“It didn’t get better when I didn’t turn out like the little princess my mother had wanted as a consolation prize either. Was mostly shit honestly. At some point, my granddad spotted the bruises, probably at my gran's wake, got my father bollocking of the next century he had the unfortunate luck to be in. They got so loud I could hear them from my room on the 3rd floor even though they were in the kitchen. Undeserved too the poor man. But he must’ve relayed at least parts of it. They were constantly talking when we got back home. Never got another bruise from home again. Still wasn’t great, I mean fuck I thought I’d found heaven when I joined the army and felt they were fucking welcoming.” 

Sighing Bear continued, closing their eyes because it wasn’t getting better at this point, not at all. 

“Seems all the talking did something for them, ignited a spark that they’d ignored for 15 years or something. Got really really close again. And bam mums pregnant again. But this time they’d actually tried. That’s where the twins entered the picture. Love the shitheads but fuck, that stung more than any backhand ever could. Seeing them be a loving family all together, how they felt silent when I entered the room, disturbing the beautiful picture.”

There's a hand on their back and Bear knows it’s Vice because it’s coming from their right and because there is the faintest note of motor oil in the air.

“Watched them like a fucking hawk until I left, and every time I made it home after. But they were good with them. No hidden bruises. No nothing, just a happy little family and the weird mistake they’d made disturbing their peace. So I stopped going back and since then they’re just that. Saw them a few times for other family stuff. Grandad usually didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer or ‘I’m stationed in a fucking desert right now’ for that matter. Kept my distance though, better that way. Maybe the twins will reach out at some point, or not. Might be dead when they get to that point.”

Twin protesting noises tugging at Bears heart in perfect synchrony.

“I’m fucking kidding, you know they don’t make bullets that kill me yet.”

When they opened their eyes again Daithí sat next to them close as he could be without touching, just silently offering. There were no tears, no nothing really, the hurt was old, like a scar that caused weird phantom pains. It had long since been buried under more recent pains whose aches were much more prominent.

Bear was glad for the silence, didn’t know if they could take any soft words in that moment and keep their delicate equilibrium intact. It would shatter in a moment of seconds. People never just listened to something like this and sat tight.

Instead what they heard was the door being opened, and Bear found themself rising to their feet in a smooth motion that was fucking impressive for how drunk they knew they were. The instinct to confront whatever disturbed them momentarily overrode the intoxication. 

The reaction was barely warranted as Bear found themself confronted not with a thread but with a group of rather tipsy rookies. 

“Leffftenant!” the frontman of the group mumbled, rising panic clear in his voice even as the word came out slurred. And the fucking fact that despite all their training he missed the two other soldiers in the room. That would earn him a note in Bear's book of who needed to get whipped more into shape. Probably in the morning though, when writing was something they could do without thinking too hard. 

“Privates.” seniority in any army did wonders for the ability to not let your liquor show when addressing people by ranks, that and Bear's talent to roll r’s like they meant it.

“We’re so sorry, we’re just uhm…gonna be going?” he clearly wanted to run, but at least remembered himself well enough to wait for dismissal. 

One that Bear was about to gladly grant him when next to them Dai rose, equally steady. “Actually, Privates, we’re happy to leave the room to you, we were just about to head for a smoke anyways, weren’t we?” 

“Fuck yeah!” Vice opted for taking Dai's hand, all three of them filling the door frame now.

Bear watched in amusement how the man's eyes grew wider first at Daithí’s and then Vice’s appearance in his line of sight. Oh, he knew he’d fucked up. 

“Lieutenant, Sargeant,” he mumbled sounding downright defeated. 

“Oh don’t let us spoil your evening,” Vice laughed “I’m sure Lieutenant Quinn will remind you of this soon enough so you might as well enjoy yourself while you can.” 

She stepped forward and the rookies parted like the red sea. Small mumbled “Yes Ma’ams” and “Sorry Ma’ams” escaped from all sides. 

Tempted to chuckle, Bear schooled their expression before following. Knowing that Dai would be right behind them.

They made their way down the corridor, only falling into step with each other when they were out of sight, almost outside, and securely out of earshot before Daithí sighed “Smoke is actually a grand idea, I’ve been craving one.” 

 “You’re out, sorry.” Bear reminded him and he groaned. 

“That’s why you have me.” Vice smiled wide, “Tell me how much you love me again?” 

“Endlessly, more every time you smile at me.” 

“Aw darling, you know how to make a woman weep.” a pack appeared from somewhere, so quickly that Bear knew they wouldn’t make it out, not when sober but especially not drunk like this, and Daithí kissed Vice before ripping the pack open. 

“And you?” Bear raised an eyebrow at the sudden attention, Vice expectantly smiling and walking the last few steps to the outside backwards so she could keep looking at Bear.

“I was planning to steal from Dai again, to be honest, but if you have something for me Ophe I might go on my knees on the spot.” 

Daithí’s fake protest in the background had Bear smile despite themself, but when Vice produced a familiar yellow packaging from the-gods-know-where they are close to making good on their promise. Of all the things Vice could have on her, it was a pack of Cohiba Club.

“Fucking hell.” There isn’t much else that wants to get out in the moment so Bear makes sure to put all their adoration into it.

Waits until they stop walking before carefully slicing the pack open with a knife, a stupid habit, not needed and technically wasteful. Sentimental to the tenth degree.

Offers both Dai and Vice one of the tightly rolled cigarillos before pulling out two at once. Nods to the fence, just out of the floodlights, a hiding place that Vice had originally claimed. Still, a good bet when looking for her. 

Unlike usual, Bear doesn’t lean against the fence but instead asks Vice for light. There is comfort in the three lighter clicks and Bear takes a deep drag before putting the first cigarillo in the fence, it will burn off slowly, like incense. 

Not quite how Vice did it, but perfect for Bear's own purposes. Doesn’t miss the looks from the other two. This time they just shake their head, even if they wanted to, this one is not on the menu. 

Instead, they let Vice light the rest, lighter clicking three times each, before they puff out more of the same spicy-sweet smoke.

When they notice the other two attempting to position themselves to either side they just gently herd them to their front, bury their nose in Daithí's hair and hold Vice close to their chest. 

Lack of sleep from the mission and the alcohol of the last few hours slowly creep up Bear's spine, they feel heavy and done. Switch positions at some point, resting their head on Vice and holding Dai close. Smile at the way the two of them hold hands, complicated by the cigarillos demanding attention every now and then.

“You know mo chroi, I think there are people who’d love to study the stupidly complicated level of religious trauma you caught, might make some actual money out there.” 

Something warm filled Bear's chest and before they could help it they were actually, full-on laughing. This upset the delicate balance of the already complicated three-way hug. 

A few seconds later they just gave up, all three of them laughing, about the fucking comment, the general situation and just because. 

Bear felt light and slightly stupid. Something deep inside them gave way, the last of the tension they’d been holding on to melting away. They might have their regrets, but tonight wasn’t one, not with Vice and Daithí still so close they all kept touching constantly. Still here and knowing Bear a little better, whatever that might mean down the line. 

They finished their smokes and silently found themselves in agreement that it was really time to head to bed. Preferably the closest one.

Bear let the other one take off and turned back for a moment, saluting both the sunrise and the remains of the cigarillo in the fence.

“Still kicking, Sir.” a single tear finally found its way out of their eye with that and a wink they turned around before they could be tempted to monologue a fucking burned-down cigarillo. Wiped the tear away and fell into a light jog to catch up with their two lovers.

[spaceheatertrash]

Hello @rogue-of-light I am here with Spaixe’s profile because holy fuck it would not fit in an Ask. Enjoy!

Name: Spaixe Myztri

Pronouns: He/They/All

Species: Troll / Purpleblood

Handle: [DA] deadpanAnachronisms

Typing Quirk: Spaixe likes to emphasize Key Words. These are typically Nouns, though the Following Situation will provide additional Examples:

“That was an incredibly Fucked Up thing for you to Suggest.”

“This wiggler-fit you are Pitching is both Unwarranted And Unappreciated.”



As you can see, their Speech tends to be Articulate, though perhaps not quite Verbose. Spaixe uses proper grammar, and mostly perfect Punctuation (results vary depending on Irateness, at which point any Capitalized words will become CAPS LOCKED).



Classpect: Mage of Mind

Dream Moon: Derse

Lusus: Spindly bat-lizard-spider Parent Thing

Sylladex: Junk Drawer— the best friend (but also worst enemy) of someone with ADHD. You can store any method of storage (drawers, countertops, bins, baskets, etc.), and then use that storage to store actual items. To fetch, simply locate the desired item within the veritable storage hellscape you have created. Stored storage may not be labeled in any way.

Strifekind: Hammerstkkind (Hammer AND stake. Vampire hunters wish they could be Spaixe)

[boyslit]

i think I've been leaning into the disabled label a bit harder recently bc fuck dude i sure ain't able to do shit i want to anymore... this kind of turned into a vent so I'm gonna put a cut

on my feet over an hour? enjoy spine pain: extreme mode for the next two days

bend over*just* the wrong way for a minute? you have lost your walking privileges! thank goodness your partner was trained as a CNA and can help you get to the bathroom. enjoy having to be in bed for a week

just need to shower? even with a chair I'm tired out when i get out. then i gotta get myself upstairs lol

laundry? can't lift shit by myself, i can only run a small armload at my own convenience. gotta wait for the people with strong backs to take things downstairs to the machines

wash dishes? better only be one or I'm looking at ice pack afternoon baybee

i do my little exercises they gave me in physical therapy. i try to take my walks to keep my joints moving. but the fact of the matter is i wrecked my spine in 2016 and every big flare/relapse I've gotten has made it exponentially worse. 2021 was the third time, and probably the worst. it led me to the best pt assistant I've ever met but im not even back to where i was before the refuckuppening of '21. i don't think i ever will be again. and i know being forced to wait an extra two months for Medicaid made it so much worse but i don't want to get mad about shit company rn.

I'm disabled. that's all there is to it. and i have to get used to working with my limitations because i hate crying over myself. but it's frustrating. i keep looking back and seeing a specific point in time as the turn-off point where i could've avoided all this. but you can't go back. i can't go back to 2015 and convince myself to go ahead with beautician school instead of taking the ship/rec job. and even if i had i probably could've screwed up my back at another point

hm. for something a little more positive tho im very happy with the relief adaptive aids have brought me. shower chair, neck pillows, grocery basket on wheels. rinG pen grip. tailbone pillow when i replace it lol (old one got water damage from old apartment)

just trying to take myself where I'm at and keep moving. ✌️ been thinking about a mobility aid for longer trips. I've been craving a trip to jungle Jim's but if anyone's been there u know that place has the square footage of a small city 😓 so i don't know how id walk it without assistance

hmm. brain wants to do something else now so i guess this ends here.