#My new course is business shit and I feel like I'm gonna get stuck in a course I hate again

[ya-gurl-emily]

The awesome thing about college is that being there is miserable, and not being there is worse.

Nifty!

[put-me-through-the-wall]

Imagine Retired!Price who has nothing to do in his new found free time

His team was finally able to convince him to put down the gun and rest. He's done more than enough for others.

But after years of constant movement and missions he isn't comfortable with sitting in one place.

He starts to go on long walk in the afternoon to fill his time

Mostly people watching or checking out the local businesses.

One night as chilly afternoon turns into a cold evening he finds himself wondering into retro diner all lit up by neon lights.

He finds a booth and takes a look around at the polished but dated looking restaurant.

it brought him a feeling of comfort he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Hello sir, can I get you a drink to start?" A sweet voice chirps

He turn to meet your sunny smile all dressed up in a baby pink button up dress, waist cinched with a mini apron. Hair pulled back with a matching bow.

"Hello..." John looks down to your name tag. "Bunny?"

"Oh" you laugh, "It's just a nickname. The old timers think it's cute"

"What does that say about me, then?"

"You don't look too old to me."

"Let me get a coffee, bunny"

From that point on John made sure to come by the diner every night.

Rain, sleet, or shine you could bet he would be there.

You weren't there every night of course but it thrilled him to think of the possibility of seeing you again.

Always greeting him with a, "Hey stranger" or "You come here often?"

Always dressed in that little faded pink dress.

Your conversation started to take up more of your shift as time went on.

Evolving from cordial to friendly and occasionally flirty.

"Bunny, what does your boyfriend think of you working all the time?"

"I don't have a boyfriend, John"

"Then what do you do all day when you're not here?"

"Waiting for you to ask me on a date"

Then you both laugh but John knows his time will come and he's a patient man.

He was always a generous tipper, even before the flirting

He loved to watch you run around the place, espically when it was busy.

You handled yourself well under pressure. Never letting a difficult customer get under your skin.

He love to way you look after a long shift with your hair slightly tousled with a pen or two stuck somewhere in your hair or behind your ear.

He'll stack his empty plates up nicely to make it easier for you to pick up.

Pushing them to the edge of the table signaling to you he was finished up.

He made sure they were steady too, especially so after one unlucky afternoon that had you sweeping up the shards of glass under his table with an embarassed blush warming your cheeks.

But seeing you on your knees sweeping up your mess made unpure thoughts flood his mind.

He began thinking about what you wear outside of work.

What you wear when you go out.

What you look like when you don't wear anything at all.

Then one rainy afternoon, John blows in to find his usual booth vacant and waits patiently for your typical sweet greeting.

Instead you rush over and drop his coffee on the table with a thud causing tiny brown droplets to splatter over the thick rim of the diner mug.

"What's crawled up your skirt, little rabbit?" John chuckles.

You frown down at him, pulling your notebook and a pen from your apron pocket. "I'm not in the mood today. What do you want to eat?"

"I know I was a little late but, the it's pouring outside. Don't be upset with me, bunny" He says, refusing to drop his joking tone.

"John" You snip.

He likes the way you say his name when you're angry.

"What's wrong?" He looks up at you with sincerity and you finally drop your arms and sigh.

"It's been a hard day. My boss is just being a total tool. The other waitresses are shit and no one is tipping well. Don't say anything but, I think I'm gonna put in my two weeks" You're words tumble from you in a rush.

"You're going to quit?"

"I can't keep working like this. I hardly make enough for rent and I still have no time to myself," You take a breath and shake your head. "Sorry, I shouldn't talk about money stuff with you. You're just here for dinner."

"Let me help you,"

"No, I don't need help. I'm fine, just a little overworked. I shouldn't have brought it up. Forget it."

"Let me take care of you"

You laugh but he does not.

"Come live with me, you'll never have to work again."

"Okay stop now, this isn't funny."

"Do you see me laughing?"

"You don't even know my real name"

"Aren't you tired? You're far too pretty to be so stressed. This job will always be here if you change your mind. I don't think you will though."

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

A/N: This turned out longer than anticipated but hope you enjoy. I just want a Price to sweep me off my feet and make me a house wife :'-)

ﾒ𝟶

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[bingwriterxo]

the shakespeare exhibit - part 4

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which you take tara on a surprise date

warnings: none

word count: 1700+

author's note: i'm gonna throw up from the fluff

previous part | next part

“So, where are we going this time?” Please not Shakespeare in the park. Please not Shakespeare in the park, Tara thought as she stared up at you, waiting for your response.

You grinned at her. “I can’t tell you! That ruins the whole point of a surprise date!”

Tara frowned. “Fine. Be like that,” she huffed, faking annoyance. She leaned back in her seat, glancing around the subway car at the other riders. There were a few men in business suits, a couple of other teenagers, and…a mime? What the fuck? Otherwise, it was surprisingly empty for a New York City subway on a Saturday afternoon.

She glanced at you, tracing your side profile with her eyes as your own eyes flitted around the car, your leg bouncing up and down. Before she could ask why you seemed anxious, you leaned over.

“I’m still not used to the city transportation,” you confessed. “I usually just walk to the university, or I drive if I have to go somewhere farther away.”

Tara placed a hand on your knee to help your fidgeting. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be fine, alright?” She smiled at you. “I’ve become a bit of a pro at the subway in the past few months, if I do say so myself, so I’ve got you.”

You chuckled. “Oh yeah? Gonna protect me from any bad guys?”

“Oh, definitely.” If I can beat motherfucking Ghostface, I can beat anyone. “You’d be surprised at what I’m capable of.” You tilted your head at her, confused. That’s a story for a later date. “You’re safe with me.” You nodded, and an idea popped into Tara’s head. “Would music make you feel better? That usually calms you down.”

You shrugged half-heartedly. “Yeah, but I didn’t bring my headphones.”

She pulled her airpods from her pocket and waved them around. “Good thing I never leave the apartment without mine.” She popped them out of her case, handing one to you while she shoved the other in her own ear. Once they were connected to her phone, she scrolled through her Spotify for a song.

‘Saturn’ by Sleeping At Last started playing, and Tara watched as you visibly relaxed, allowing your shoulders to slump, before you turned to her, your eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t like this kind of music,” you said.

She shrugged. “No, but you do.”

Your eyes widened. “You remembered?”

Why wouldn’t I? “Of course I did.” I made a whole playlist full of songs you like, nerd.

You smiled shyly and wrinkled your nose, a blush tinting your skin. “You’re such a simp, Tar.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m changing the song.” Before you could get another word out, ‘Not Strong Enough’ by Boygenius was blasting through the headphones instead. You bit back a smile as the first few cords filled your ears, and Tara stuck her tongue out teasingly at you.

“Jokes on you,” you said. “I like this song, too.”

Oh, I know, she thought. It’s on the playlist.

* * *

“This feels like a kidnapping,” Tara stated as she walked around, her vision blocked out by your hands. Her own arms were waving around in front of her so that she wouldn’t walk into anything or anyone, and her feet were stumbling along as you led her to an unknown location.

“Tara, if I was gonna kidnap you, I wouldn’t have told Mindy where we were going,” you said, your voice close to Tara’s ear, and she shivered.

Wait. What? “Mindy knows? Why does Mindy know?” Why is that bitch always in the middle of my shit? Nosy fucker.

“Because she asked and I told her.” You shrugged. “Plus, I don’t have Sam’s number yet, and I didn’t want her to think I was kidnapping you, so I had Mindy tell her where we were going.”

Okay. That’s fucking adorable of her. “Well, are we almost there? I don’t love not being able to see.”

You hummed. “Two more steps.” One. Two. Tara planted her feet on the ground. “I didn’t literally mean two more,” you huffed. “But I guess this works.” You uncovered her eyes, and Tara blinked at the sudden brightness.

She looked up at the large, white building you had stopped in front of, her eyes widening and jaw dropping. “No way! This is--”

“The Museum of Moving Image,” you said, grinning at her. “I thought you might like it--”

You weren’t able to finish as Tara grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a kiss, her lips pressed against yours as she tried to express all of the gratitude and joy she had in her body. That’s it, she thought. Case closed. She’s the one.

She pulled away, smiling so hard that her dimples were showing and the corners of her eyes were crinkled. “Well, come on!” she exclaimed, tugging you toward the front door. You were still stuck in a daze, your eyes half-lidded and mouth agape. “Let’s go!”

Tara giggled as you staggered behind her through the entrance until finally regaining your footing. You tossed your arm over her shoulders and led her to the ticket booth.

“Two tickets, please,” you said to the guy working at the counter, and he smiled.

“Sure, sure.” He rang you up quickly, sliding the tickets toward you, and when you reached out to grab them, he asked, “You haven’t been here before, have you?”

You shook your head. “Nope. It’s our first time.”

He nodded, and Tara watched as his eyes flitted down, stopping at your chest for a second before glancing back up at you. “I can tell. I’m sure I’d remember a face like yours.” He winked, and she felt like throwing up.

Does he not see her arm around my shoulders? Fucking idiot. She pushed herself further into your side, scowling at him. He paid her no mind as he winked slyly, and you hummed.

“Do you have a photographic memory or something?” Your eyes widened. “That’d be so cool! I wish I had a photographic memory. It would make learning plays and poems so much easier.”

The guy looked taken aback, his eyebrows furrowing. “What? No, I’m just saying you’re gorgeous is all.”

“Oh.” You frowned. “That’s less cool.”

And this is why you date the oblivious ones, Tara thought, internally laughing at the fact that you hadn’t realized the ticket boy was flirting with you.

“We’ll be going now,” she stated, inserting herself into the conversation and taking the tickets. She didn’t spare him a second glance as she turned the two of you around.

“Well, if you need any help or anything, you know where to find me!” the guy called, and Tara scoffed.

“No thanks!”

“That was weird, I think,” you said once you were out of earshot. “I don’t really know what just happened.”

She’s such a fool. Tara glanced up at you with a smile, and you returned it easily. A cute, adorable, chivalrous fool, but a fool nonetheless.

She patted you on the back before slipping her arm around your waist. “That’s okay, babe. Don’t worry about it.” You blushed from the nickname and Tara handed your tickets to an employee, who waved the two of you in.

“So, where to first?” you asked.

* * *

For hours, Tara pulled you from exhibit to exhibit, happily answering any questions you had (there were a lot of them--your extensive knowledge didn’t stretch far beyond literature) and you listened closely, smiling whenever she ended up rambling about something.

The last exhibit was the one Tara was most excited for, and she lit up as she ventured into it, eyes jumping around the room as she scanned different artifacts from filming history. There were microphones, cameras, costumes, projectors--basically everything a film major would love.

“Oh my god,” she breathed out, tugging you toward the closest item. “This is the first ever boom microphone.”

“It’s very…big,” you said. “I thought boom microphones were smaller.”

She nodded, never taking her eyes off of the object. “They are, but they didn’t have much to work with back in the ‘20s.” She pulled away from you slightly so that she could get as close as possible. “Dorothy Arzner decided to put the microphone on a fishing rod during the filming of The Wild Party because there was too much movement on set, so any mics hidden in clothes didn’t work.”

She turned to you, grinning from ear to ear, and chuckled as you furrowed your eyebrows, tilting your head at her. “And Dorothy Arzner is…?”

“She was a filmmaker back in the ‘20s and ‘30s. Plus, she was one of America’s first lesbian filmmakers.”

You hummed, stepping forward and wrapping your arms over Tara’s shoulders, pulling her back into your front. “I see. And is that why you’re so knowledgeable about Arzner’s work?”

“Somewhat.” She shrugged. “She just did so many things for film, it’s hard not to know about her.”

You giggled, and Tara felt it against her spine, her heart hammering at the sound. “I feel how you must feel whenever I talk about literature,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

I could stay like this forever, she thought. Right here, in her arms, looking at this damn microphone. “We’re both nerds, aren’t we?” she asked.

“You’re only just realizing this now?”

She pushed against you. “Shut up.” She turned in your arms, looking up at you. “You’re nerdier. You know that, right?”

You narrowed your eyes, a teasing smile on your face. “If it helps you sleep at night, then I’ll say yes.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “I’ve got something else you should say yes to instead.”

“And that is?”

Don’t stutter. Just…say it. She inhaled deeply and asked, “Be my girlfriend?”

“Wait.” You frowned, furrowing your eyebrows a little. “Are we not already girlfriends?”

“Huh?”

“You told Mindy I was your girlfriend.”

Tara blushed, remembering her slip up from the other night. “I got ahead of myself when I said that.”

You grinned. “Too excited over me? You little simp.”

“If you keep calling me a simp, I’m gonna take my question back.” No I won’t. I would never.

“Sure you would, Tar.” She knows me too well. You giggled and pressed your forehead against hers. “I would love to be your girlfriend,” you said before kissing her. “‘For her own person, it beggar’d all description: she did lie--’”

“Are you quoting Shakespeare to me right now? Right now?”

You blushed. “...Yes.”

[eternalwritess]

I may know someone - Platonic!Alastor & tech demon!reader + Vox x tech demon!reader

Summary: Alastor decides that the best way to get you acquainted to being an overlord is for you to meet some. Safe to say it doesn't go over to smoothly. Especially since it's a meeting after all...

You've been waiting at the hotel practically all day for Alastor to drag his ass down and greet you with a eerily too wide of a grin on his face. The way it stretched made you shudder. You smiled back at him though and titled you head letting a small laugh lift through your lips.

"You've had company I'm guessing?" Alastor hums and looks at you and they way your shirt is wrinkled and the way your smile falls upon you.

"You have no idea," You muttered back over and he led you over to a few chairs on an empty bar. The cat wasn't here today you guessed blandly before looking over to Alastor.

"I'm sure I have one," Alastor hummed and leaned on his head looking over to you. "But please tell me, I would love to hear the details," He tapped his foot in excitement watching your eyes trace over him.

"Your ex came back," You said blatantly and watched the way his face wrinkled, you loved messing with him.

"My... ex?"

"Vox, ex-business partner," You explained. Alastors face unwrinkled and he tilted his head up and nodded. "He was pissed at me..." You looked at the table flicking some last bits of food that still lingered on the table.

Alastor paused for a moment before tilting his head, almost like a cat you note as he smiles at you. "Really? And why is that?"

You shrugged and leaned back in your chair ever so slightly, careful not to fall off. "Simple, he figured out who the hell was insane enough to fuck with his shit," you said and looked at him waiting for a response.

"Ah yes, I assumed that this would happen. So then my dear. Why are you here?"

He knows, he already knows, he just wants you to say it. You can't help but laugh a bit inside you know Alastor, you know how enlightened he's gonna be with himself once you tell him that you agree with his idea. that he was right. The words feel stuck in your throat being slowly inching out.

"You mentioned something about me... and the overlords," You say with a smile on your face. You don't want this. Really, but hell you need to stay safe if anything.

Alastor stands up rather suddenly and taps his cane on the ground with delight sticking out his hand for you to shake. Without hesitation you take it and smile back at him. "Well then my dear, dear y/n why didn't you say something earlier? Why I can get you started right now!" With a flick of his wrist you saw the reality around you morph with souls sprouting up from the ground surrounding you.

You laugh nervously and back up shaking your head. "I'm good maybe something more uh... subtle," You say watching as the owned souls surrounded you waiting for you to order them around and to tend to you.

"Why of course!" He flicks his wrist and the disappear your reality turning somewhat normal and then fully after a few hard blinks. "Well I'm sure the first thing that we would need to do is get you acquainted with them!" He clapped his hands and slung his hand around your shoulder walking you out of the hotel.

"Why I'm sure that Carmilla will be delighted to hear that we have a new overlord! After all that's more power to the masses," He laughed. You both stopped at what you assumed to be Carmilla's place. It seemed like an armory and the moment you got inside it looked like a ballet area. The high arches and the way the purple light bounced off the glass and onto your skin made you shudder ever so slightly.

"Carmilla! My old pal," Alastor laughed once you were both let into the building. You wanted to get out. You felt your skin crawl, you didn't belong in this fucking place. You needed out. Not that Alastor seemed to care for your anxiety though.

"Alastor," You heard the voice from above you and you stepped back turning around to look up at her. Her hair tied up and her clothes draped along her skin elegantly. You couldn't help but get the feeling that you were looking at a goddess after all this place sure fit those vibes.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?" She asked jumping down, practically right in front of your face too. You stumbled back and Alastor placed his hand on your shoulder. You felt it tighten, maybe you shouldn't act so scared.

"Well Carmilla this is y/n I'm not sure that you've heard of them but-"

"I have," Her voice cuts him off from his rambling. Alastor may have charm but she has control. She has much more grace than anyone in this fucking room... was it too late to turn back?

Alastor pauses for a moment something so subtle you're surprised that you even noticed. "Well of course you have! They're quite the figure after all!" He leaned on you and you almost shrink under the weight.

It doesn't help that Carmilla seems like she's staring through to your soul. Trying to figure out who and what you are exactly.

"Vox was complaining about them," She says. "Says that you're annoying among some other things,"

"Why yes you know how he gets," Alastor interrupts before you can even get something as small as a squeak out of your mouth. You can't help but wonder if Carmilla hates you already with the way she talks about you.

"So y/n here is a new and up and coming overlord! So I was wondering if you would like to invite them to the next meeting of yours if possible?" He asked with a small tilt of his head he voice sounding like honey with the filter. You forget how charming he could be at times. He places a finger on his cheek as if he was truly wondering and not subtly demanding that you be invited to the next meeting.

Carmilla takes another look at you her eyes go from your feet all the way to your eyes to which you look at each other for a few seconds which feel like painful minutes. Her eyes are sharp and they stab into your own.

"Do you feel as if you belong among us?" She asked without hesitation. Her voice made you shudder.

You paused for a second and before you could open your mouth she answered for you. "Why do you hesitate? Surely Alastor would not be so weak as to demand someone who hesitates," she says looking down at you. God was she tall-

"Of course not ma'am," you mouth moved on its own as you slowly reminded yourself that even though she was an overlord, she was a sinner. Someone down here because of their own pleasures instead of others, someone like you.

"I was just thinking how to respond," you said quickly. "You see ,I own a section of hell that it similar to that of an overlords and my presence also affects said place. I'd say its rather similar in some regards. Besides a spot at the table is about controlling most of hell correct?"

You remember dealing with people like her when you first arrived in hell. It was horrible, your tongue moved faster than you could think. You were glad for it.

"And I only know Alastor here because of that fact," you said. You pause for a moment before bowing your head slightly in a small apology. "Sorry if I come off rude, I just don't want you to think so little of my friend here," you say and gesture of to Alastor.

Carmilla takes another glance at you and smiles. "Alright then, they have potential. You can claim a spot at our table if you wish as a sort of... test run if you will," she said. Her smile sent chills through your spin.

"Thank you,"

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

You tap your hand on the side of your leg. All of the sudden you didn't know what you were doing here anymore. In this tall elevator with Rosie and Alastor by your side you suddenly felt smaller than usual. God was it horrible. There was this burning sensation in your throat that threatened to spill if you breathed in too deep.

"Oh don't be nervous sweetheart," Rosie smiled and placed her hand on your shoulder. Right. Don't be nervous.

You took in a deep breath despite your lungs screaming and put on a smile. This was gonna be fun for Alastor.

You were one of the first people there sitting right in between Alastor and Rosie. There was a new seat for you so there shouldn't be any trouble. You watched as a few more people came in. People who you only saw on the news. God this felt like a dream. You watched as everyone was here, except three people.

"Do you really think all of the V's are coming to this meeting Carmilla? We'd be lucky to just have one," Alastor commented and Carmilla glared back at him.

"They will come, I warned them, and I know that Vox knows better than to challenge me,"

Great. You're gonna have a great time.

They came in through the door an instantly you felt Vox's eyes drag to you. A million curses flew straight into your head at once. God were screwed to say the least and Alastor's smile grew wider. It seemed that Rosie didn't realize her friend's intentions or was too bust to even care as she smiled at Vox.

"Well ain't it lovely to see you three," she said with a smile spread across her lips. She tried to be friendly to everyone. You knew that much.

You heard Velvette groan and fling some insult at Alastor before sitting down in a chair. They were sat right across from you. Vox was sat right cross from you. You felt your heart beat faster with each passing second.

The only thing going through your mind was how fucked you would be after this meeting. Yet you managed to keep your calm appearance by not looking at him. It was quite the clever plan if anyone asked.

"Well then, lets get this meeting started-"

"You actually let them join?!" Vox shouted. You heard his voice shift for a brief moment, kinda like Alastor's.

You sighed, you'd have to look at him. You turned your gaze over to him with a blank expression on your face. "Do you have a problem with dear y/n?" Alastor began for you. Of course he would be the one to start shit.

"Uh, yeah! They fucked up my entire system," Vox stammered making an outward expression towards you. You watched the wires in the building as the energy flowed through them. This was either gonna be the longest meeting ever, or the shortest. Either way, it was gonna suck.

"I wouldn't have had to if you had just aired the commercial," You explained. "It was nothing personal really," you smiled at him innocently. You were hoping he'd drop it.

"What I chose to air is my own business so keep out of it-"

"Vox," Carmilla started looking at him. "If you cannot handle this then I'd suggest that you'd get a move on although this is an important meeting,"

"Yeah no shit! Y/n's here! Our new overlord is Alastor's new pal! That seems like a pretty big deal to me,"

Vox seemed like he was gonna say more but stopped. Carmilla's glance threw him off. You watched at Velvette snickered slightly at her co-workers antics. You couldn't help but at least smile wider than before. He looked as if he wanted to kill you. God was it amusing.

Valentino looked over to you with a death glare. "You know you've done something right if you get that one mad," Rosie whispered softly into your ear and you couldn't help but give her a small chuckle.

"Not a fan huh?" You asked softly. She shook her head.

"He's much too vulgar,"

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

Alastor and Rosie didn't bother walking you back to your place to say the least. It was too far and they didn't wanna hang around before it was too dark out. Alastor had a whole hotel to deal with and Rosie had her shops to stock.

You didn't mind it at first though. That was until you heard the shuffling of a second pair of feet behind you.

You paused for a moment looking at the camera on the edge of the building quickly taking the electricity from it ready to use it as a weapon and snapping around. Within seconds you were slammed against the wall though by Vox. For someone with quite a small frame, you must admit that he's stronger than he looks.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" there was no hiding the change in his voice now. It sounded like something out of an old tv.

"Walking," you replied with a sick grin across your face. there was no way in hell you were letting that grin down.

"Fucking stop it already," he shouted and slammed you into the wall. "Do you think this is fucking funny?!"

You gave him a dead look letting your smile drop for a second. For a second he looked shocked. "Maybe," you grinned once more laughing a bit this time letting your hand touch his arm giving him one hell of a shock.

"Anyways, I do need to get back it's getting dark. I'd prefer if you'd leave me alone," you snapped at him. You hated using the power you got when you arrived. It took energy from other places making it your own, and god was it draining.

He glared at you. "Lemme get this clear because I don't think I did before... I don't like you y/n. I don't like you at all,"

Previous <---...part 4 coming soon...

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[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part II: blackwater i

originally posted on 22 february 2023

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 4k

summary: you start to settle in with the gang, making some friends and some enemies. As you acclimate to your new life, parts of you miss the freedom of solitude, while a new feeling drives you towards companionship.

a/n: chapter two is here! For those of you that missed the post, I will be updating this series with a new chapter every wednesday. I'm super proud of this one. Thanks to @margowritesthings for being my beta reader, biggest supporter, and my ride or die

SERIES MASTERPOST

"The hell did you buy in there anyway? A book?" You ask, trotting closer to Arthur and Boadicea to peek over his reins. There's a little leather bound book in his hands that he angrily stuffs into his satchel. You’ve both just left the general store in Blackwater after picking up some supplies for the good of the camp. You have no money, but Arthur had brought camp funds to purchase supplies for everyone. While in the store, he’d found a small leather bound book, and you’ve been thinking about it since you both left the store.

"Ain't none of your business lady, now let's get back." He huffs, spurring Boadicea into a canter past the old withering Blackwater church. The sound of hooves on dirt is loud as you push the horse, gripping tightly onto the saddle horn for extra stability.

"Well if it's none of my business, you shouldn't have bought it in front of me. That's on you." You counter, curious if Arthur even knows how to read, let alone enjoys it. You’ve only been with the gang for three and a half days, but in that time you’ve been able to observe the other gang members. Mostly, you’ve stuck to yourself, eating and working alone unless Ms. Grimshaw makes you work with the girls. But in that time, all you’ve seen Arthur do is physical labor, like chopping wood, going out on jobs, or planning with Dutch and Hosea. You had wrongfully assumed he’s the type of man who only entertains himself with liquor, women and fighting. Every day you seem to be proving yourself more and more wrong. 

"I bought it in front of you because I have to take you with me. You're like a goddamn pet, take my eyes off ya for a second and you're starting something. Dutch didn’t want you causin’ trouble so he told me to keep an eye on ya." 

Fury bubbles in your chest at the new information. This is about that big ugly bastard, what's his name. The past few days you've spent at their camp all he's done is sleep, drink and annoy everyone. He hasn't changed his sweat stained blue flannel since you've been there, and his big brown draft horse has never left the hitching post. He had made some rather crass comments about Arthur bringing you back and you punched him right in the face for it. Nearly knocked him on his ass. It got an amused chuckle out of Arthur, but the other gang members weren't too pleased about you strutting into their camp and starting fights. He started it, you just finished it. But of course you, the newcomer, are to blame and now you need a babysitter. 

"Gonna keep an eye on me, that's it? What- you're gonna sleep next to my bedroll too? Make sure I don't go out and start beating up the folk, even the ones that need it?" You growl, irritated with Dutch for giving you a chaperone, and at Arthur for being the chaperone. 

"If that's what it takes to keep that damn temper under control then, sure" Arthur laughs.

"I guess I'd rather go buyin' romance novels with you then sittin' back there with some of those fools." You bite, cantering towards the opening of the camp. 

"I- dammit woman, it ain't a book. It's a journal. Lost my old one some months ago in a fire.  I saw this one and I just picked it up..." He says. 

You're utterly shocked. He journals? A new little layer of this big tough outlaw falls away and you can peek into the man inside. He goes around saving women in distress and writes about his feelings? Well shit. 

"Never took you for a writer, Mr. Morgan, but it suits you well. Maybe one day you'll have to let me peek in there, see what goes on in that head a you-" 

You stop in your tracks at the sound coming from camp. It's a rat-like voice with a greasy, nasty vocabulary. He's yelling, harassing someone for something. It's an unfamiliar voice and you spur the buckskin faster after Arthur to find the source. Arthur doesn’t look entirely alarmed, more annoyed, as if he knows the voice. When he sees the worry on your face, he’s quick to respond.

"That's Micah… you steer clear of him, alright?" He asks, to which you don't answer.

As your horses slow, stepping into the camp, you hop down from the saddle, tossing your reins over the hitching post and jog into the open area filled with tents. 

"The hells goin' on now? You've been back five goddamn minutes and your stirrin' up a ruckus." Arthur calls out from beside you. 

A medium height, blonde man with a nasty smile and pale blue eyes turns around, running his fingers over his thick mustache. His red shirt is stained with what you assume to be the beer that he reeks of. It has filled his stomach, giving him a drinker’s gut and painting his nose with red blotches. Just the sight of him has you backing up a few steps.

"Awe, didntcha' miss me, Morgan?" He asks sarcastically, holding his arms out in mock disbelief. 

Arthur sports a deep scowl as he glares at Micah, stepping towards him. It's then that Micah notices you standing beside Arthur. You're much shorter than him, but you hold your chin up high, shoulders pushed back. Micah’s lips curl up in an eerie smile as he runs his eyes over your body.

"Well who might you be, madam?" Micah sneers. Pure anger and aggression pump through your veins as he slowly rakes his eyes over your figure. Then his eyes move around to the people in camp, lingering on Arthur's. 

"She claimed? You Morgan's whore then? Say, you think he'll share you with me?" Micah laughs maniacally, bending back and resting his hands on his gun belt. His blonde hair is filthy, his teeth even more so, everything about this man repels you. He's a snake, a shifty rat and you can see it from a mile away. 

"I ain't no one's whore." You squint, wishing to just take this bastard out and be done with it. 

"Careful, Micah. She'll tear you a new one." Arthur warns, seemingly hoping that you will. God, he would love to watch you beat the shit out of Micah. He'd pay to.  

Micah seems to be amused by this, laughing loudly and glancing around the camp to see if anyone heard Arthur. He doesn't believe for a fraction of a second that you could best him.

"I ain't afraid of an itty bitty lady," Micah steps forward, glancing down over you before shifting his eyes and addressing Arthur,

"She'd look real pretty on her knees for me, wouldn't she Ar-"

You knee him as hard as you can, right in the groin, causing him to bend at the waist and groan in pain. 

"Y-You bitch!" He yells, right before you slip a pair of metal knuckles that were in your pocket over your fingers and punch him square in the cheekbone. The knuckles cut up his face, blood trickling down his cheek before he falls over, completely knocked out cold. You're a small woman, but with some little adjustments, you're stronger than the men. You slip the knuckles off, sliding them back into your pocket and tapping them for good measure.

"Tried to warn the bastard…" Arthur sighs, grabbing Micah by the feet and dragging him towards the outskirts of camp where he'll probably wake up later. You realize that you'd gained a bit of a crowd, blushing as you look around and see several pleased faces. You remember most of their names. The red haired Irishman, Sean steps over to you, proudly slapping you on the back with a huge grin. 

"Ha! Ya knocked him right on his ass ‘tere! So much for an itty bitty lady, eh?"

A blonde haired woman, a little taller than you comes over with a big smile. She’s under the arm of a young gang member, you think Lennys his name. 

“Well I’ll be damned! Hell yeah, It's good to see another badass woman around here, I was gettin’ tired of puttin’ all the boys in their place.” She laughs, pulling Lenny behind her and moving forward to hand you something. It's a five dollar bill, and you reach out to take it, confused. 

“We had a bet that someone was gonna knock him out soon as he got back. Entertaining us with a show like that? You deserve it. I’d do anything to see that bastard get put down by a lady.”

You smile up at her, nodding to the stranger as you place the bill in your pocket. 

“I'm Jenny by the way. Say, you're new as a shiny penny, figures these boys can't control themselves. Buncha assholes, especially Micah. He gets his fill of torture from all of us though, don't you worry miss." Jenny smiles at you, her blonde hair frames her freckled face beautifully. 

"You wanna come officially meet the girls? We can get you set up, get you a tent and some new clothes. Figure you wanna get away from Mr. Morgan over there for the day, he's a sour bastard." Jenny yells the last part in Arthur’s direction so that he can hear. 

“You’ll hear no argument from me on that account, ma'am.” Arthur quips, dropping Micah into the woods,

You eye Lenny and Jenny, a little unsure. It's hard for you to trust people, especially other outlaws but they seem kind enough. You turn your neck around to see Arthur, the only one you've really interacted with besides the two men you knocked out, and then you look back to Lenny and Jenny. They're both young and bright eyed, hopeful. It's a change you're grateful for, albeit not used to. What could be the harm?

"Alright then, the girls…" You whisper nervously. You've seen a few other women walking through the camp in the past four days, and they've eyed you with curiosity but none made a move to interact with you. You'll never show it but you're a bit nervous. You keep to yourself for the most part. You've had to because you have no one else. But that's changing. 

You follow the two past a few tents, and to a wagon with a few boxes sitting around to be used as chairs. Wolf pelts and blankets are stacked into a makeshift bed on the ground under a hanging canvas. As you take in the little details of the camp, you don't miss the way Jenny and Lenny's hands intertwine, and you smile for it. It's apparent that someone has been through a lot of effort to make the camp homey. Fluffy pelts line the seats and chairs, beautifully decorated animal skulls top some of the tents and each person’s designated area is filled with their personal preferences and belongings. Pictures and books line the little tables and crates around the place and boxes of beer and whiskey as well. It really is a home. 

There's a wagon with canvas material making a little lean to, and under it sit three girls. The first one to notice you has short blonde hair and a contagious smile. There's wonder in her eyes, and optimism. 

"Well hi! We was wonderin' when we'd get to meet you, we could barely hold back from goin' over there but we didn't wanna push ya! Say, you’ve been here just four days and you’ve already knocked down the two biggest bastards here. First Bill and now Micah? I like you already!" The blonde haired girl says before adding, "Oh, I'm Karen by the way. And this is Marybeth and Tilly.” She adds, pointing towards the other girls who smile and wave coyly. The girl furthest from you with dark colored skin and braided hair that collects into a low bun, Tilly, speaks up.

“Don’t be shy, we don’t bite. Well Karen does, but only when Ms. Grimshaw comes around. Doesn’t seem like you’ll be dealing much with her though. You gonna run with the men like Jenny here?” Tilly asks, nodding towards Jenny. You notice the contrast in their attire. Tilly, Marybeth and Karen are wearing dresses, apparently you and Jenny are the only two women who work out of camp. You haven't thought much about what your role will be in the camp though.

“Uh, yeah I guess I will be. I haven’t thought about it much though, just gettin’ here and all…And I’m only stayin’ till I'm back on my feet, so I’ll do whatever needs done till I get enough money to head somewhere else.” You mumble, looking down to your raggedy clothes. The girls grow a little quiet, sensing your dilemma before Jenny speaks up. 

“Well for now, you’re stuck with us! C’mon, we’ll get you some new clothes and have Ms. Grimshaw set you up a tent. I assume you’ll want a tent by Arthur, y’know with him bringing you in and all.”

— —

By nightfall you have three new pairs of jeans, two black and one blue, four new shirts, dark green, white, black and red, and a brand new pair of boots. They’ve accommodated you well, and you try not to think about your growing debt to the gang. 

Your tent is nicer than anything you’ve had for a long while. It's a white canvas ‘A frame’ tent with a nice sized cot, a wardrobe and a nightstand. The girls have given you some blankets and items to decorate around the place and it looks good, it’s rather cozy. Currently you sit cross legged on the cot, writing in your journal. The soft glow of candlelight alongside the campfires outside provide enough light for you to write without straining your eyes. It's a beautiful night, and owls hoot as warm wind blows across the Great Plains, it's a perfect moment. 

It’s the fourth day I've been here, but today was different. I met Jenny, and she introduced me to a few others. She’s a lot like me. Jenny doesn’t follow the rules, she makes her own way. I admire her for that. And Arthur? Well, I haven't  seen much of him. He’s been working on some big job with Dutch, and they’re keeping it real quiet. Oh, and he journals too, he picked one up in town today. Never thought a man such as himself would take to journaling. There’s a heart in there somewhere, deep down as it may be. I guess he’s like me in that way…

You startle at the sound of a knock against the beam of your tent. You jump a little, reaching down to your holster before you realize it’s only Arthur. 

“Shit, sorry. You scared the hell outta me. Ain’t used to livin’ with other people.” You laugh, folding your journal shut and tucking your pen into the book’s spine. Arthur is leaning against the tent beam with two bowls in hand, it looks like he’s washed up, probably in the lake or the river, but he's wearing a clean black stand collar shirt and a new pair of jeans. His wet hair drips a little, and the smell of soap travels to your nose.

“You’ll get used to it. Here, I brought ya some dysentery.” Arthur jokes, holding out a bowl of Pearson’s stew to you. You take it, grateful for it even though it tastes awful. 

“Thanks. Here, come sit, keep me company.” You scooch to the other side of your cot, once again sitting cross legged. 

“Well I ain’t no good company miss, I can promise you that, but sure.” 

Arthur sits down on the cot, and it dips under his weight. He watches you out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then glances at your book while you both eat. 

“So what were you writin’ in that book a’ yours?” Arthur asks, nodding towards your leather journal.  

You crack a smile, prodding at the mushy soup with your spoon. 

“You really wanna know? I'll show you mine, but you gotta show me what's in yours.” You offer with a raised eyebrow. Arthur’s cheeks glow a little red and he scratches at the back of his neck.

“Well I just got it today, and I ain’t put much in it yet.” Arthur says a little awkwardly. You take note of his embarrassment, and make a mental note to peek the next time he has it out.

“So how's it been so far? The camp I mean. Everyone treatin’ you well? I'm sure you’ll give ‘em hell if they don’t.” Arthur asks, looking to you, before bringing the metal bowl up to his lips and drinking down the broth left over in the bowl. You can’t help the smile that brightens up your features while you nod. 

“It’s been good. Jenny’s real nice, I like her a lot. All the girls are kind too. I ain’t talked to much of anyone else, well besides Micah, is he alright by the way?” You ask, hoping you didn’t kill him. You don’t really care if the bastard is dead or not, but killing him on your fourth day in the gang would not help your chances of getting along with Dutch. 

“I think he left for a while, didn’t wanna come back and be the camp idiot for gettin’ beat up by a little lady-” He starts before you interject. 

“I ain’t a little lady.” You bite. Arthur chuckles, putting his hands up in mock surrender. He disagrees, you are a little lady, but he also wants to keep his head. 

“Whatever you say, miss. I'm partial to keepin’ your fists far away from this old mug,'' Arthur's smile falters for a moment, and he looks over to you with sincerity, “but I'm glad to hear you’re settlin’ in alright.”

You nod, unsure of how to respond as you extend your arm to place the empty stew bowl on your nightstand. Arthur takes it out of your hand instead, standing up and stacking your dishes on top of his own. 

“Well I’ll leave you to it, I don’t wanna take up anymore of your time,” He tips his head to you, “Goodnight miss.”

“G’night Arthur.” You watch his back as he leaves your tent and returns your dishes back to Pearson’s table. 

You think of him as you dress down and tuck yourself into bed. It’s been a long time since you’ve enjoyed someone’s company. He intrigues you. There's so many layers to Arthur Morgan, and you find yourself wanting to peel them back and discover the man at heart. You toss and turn in your bed, angrily fluffing your pillow and tearing your blankets off of your bare legs just to pull them back on again. Despite the new bed, and the tent, you find yourself  longing for the freedom of the grass, you miss the stars. 

With a sigh, you reach down onto the grass below your bed and grab your boots. You swing your legs over the edge and pull them on, not bothering to dress yourself half decent. The shirt you’re wearing is a man’s, it's huge on you, but Jenny figured it would make a good night shirt. The white shirt swallows your figure as you step out of your tent and into the night. Everyone has gone to bed already as you tiptoe to the outskirts of camp. There's a dark forest at the edge, and maybe it's your exhaustion, but you find it enticing. You walk through the grass, wishing that you could feel it on your feet. It’s only been four days, but dammit, you miss the freedom. Solitude can be a beautiful thing, you’ve found out. And even though you’re glad to have been saved by the gang, parts of you ache to return to the wilderness. 

You slip your cowboy boots off, abandoning them on the ground between you and Arthur’s tent. They slump to the ground, spurs clicking as they hit the floor, and you step into the trees.

You pick wildflowers, humming and singing to yourself as you pluck their stems from the earth and add them to your collection. The breeze is warm and it flutters through your hair. A few times you feel eyes on you, but you dismiss them as animals lurking in the night. Some find the woods as eerie and unknown, but they’ve always been your home. You make a little bouquet of wildflowers, they're all different colors and sizes, and you hold them up to your nose and inhale that deep, specific scent. Lastly, you lay back on the grass, holding the flowers in your hands and look up to the stars. 

“A coach and six white horses,”

You twirl a poppy between your fingers, bringing it up to your nose before you continue singing,

“Blacks and bays, dapples, and grays,”

 You bring your knees up, crossing your legs as your hair splays out in the grass.

“All the pretty little horses…”

You’ve always been on your own, and this will be hard. Acclimating to a new place, with new people, and handing your control over to a new leader, all of it has you nervous, uneasy. You’re not sure how long you’ll stay. A part of you, the part that led you into the forest, begs for your freedom back. And yet a new feeling piques your interest as well, and it scares you. You look up at the constellations, tracing the big dipper with your eyes and grounding yourself with the familiarity. This new pull… it’s dangerous. You’ve distanced yourself from others for a reason, and yet here you are, breaking all of your rules.

—

Arthur’s eyebrows draw together as he leans up on his elbows in his cot. He’s been unable to sleep tonight, too distracted with the Blackwater job, and with you to get some shut eye. He’s stirred up by some quiet click noises, followed by some shallow singing. The song reaches his ears and immediately he recognizes it. It's “All the Pretty Little Horses,” a lullaby his momma used to sing to him when he was a kid. There’s some emotion there that he pushes down, sitting up to peek out of the open tent. 

And there you are. 

Arthur's smile is bittersweet as he watches you, laying in the grass in nothing but a goddamn shirt. Because of course you're the type to pick flowers, barefoot in the dead of night. Of course you’re the type to sing to the stars. He chuckles to himself, and doesn’t even think about it as he grabs his empty journal that he’d bought in the morning. He rests the leather book against his knee, leaning over to grab his pencil off his nightstand. As he does so, his eyes collide with the framed picture of Mary. Arthur sighs, gently grabbing the corner of the frame and tipping it so the picture lays face down. 

“Long time ago now…” Arthur whispers, lingering over the photo for a moment before grabbing his pencil. 

He doesn’t think, he just draws, starting with your legs that are crossed over each other, your torso and the flowers in your hand, and then your face and hair as you look up to the stars. He hums along lowly with your singing as he finishes up his sketch. There’s an incredible amount of detail to the picture, and he tries not to think about why that is as he adds a note to his sketch. 

She’s a lot like the stars in a way, I’ve realized. A force, fiery and burning as a flame, not to be reckoned with. She’s got no ties, she’s on her own. And yet she’s kind, singing and picking flowers in the middle of the damn night. She's something else, that woman. 

[wonderlandleighleigh]

(Hello, Sunshine, October 1963)

October rolls around without much incident, though Midge feels oddly restless. It’s like something was shaken loose inside of her when Sophie Lennon tried to brain her with that Grammy, and she can’t put her finger on what.

And Lenny notices, because of course he does, but since she doesn’t know what’s wrong, she can’t really tell him.

But he’s a relatively patient man, especially when it comes to Midge’s eccentricities, so he waits her out.

“It’s like-“ She stops, thinking about it. “Something is missing. Which is insane. I have you and the kids, and a great career…”

Lenny shrugs as they do the dishes together after dinner one night. “Maybe you want more from your career. Go higher. Farther. Funnier.”

“Well, yeah,” Midge snorts. “Of course I do, but I feel like I’m on that trajectory, you know? I feel like- I feel like I’m on the right path with comedy.”

“Maybe you want it to go faster,” Lenny suggests.

“It’s not the comedy,” she presses, shaking her head. “It’s not. I won an Emmy. Susie is making noise about a comedy album next year, the show is amazing, I’m getting offers left and right.”

Lenny nods slowly, and when she glances at him, she can see that he’s nervous.

Midge turns to him quickly, cupping his jaw with her damp hands. “Lenny. No. It’s not you.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, and then deflects with a joke. “Because I can be weirder in bed.”

She smiles. “You are lovely,” she tells him, leaning up to kiss him softly. “And what we have is all I want. I just-can’t put my finger on what might be missing.”

“Well, let’s see. Career is good,” Lenny lists off, wrapping his arms around her. “We’re good. Your parents are busy and good. Joel is…Joel. The kids are doing well. Getting older. I can’t believe Kitty is eight now. She used to be the size of my forearm.”

Midge smiles and nods. “I know what you mean. If Ethan has one more growth spurt, I’m going to have to ask Gordon for a raise just to cover a brand-new wardrobe for him.” She sighs wistfully. “It feels like yesterday he was trying to convince me Esther had run away while I was holding her in my arms.”

She likes that the joke makes Lenny chuckle, but as she stands there in his arms, her thumb brushing his jaw gently, she finds herself thinking about-

“Shit,” she blurts out.

“What?” Lenny asks, looking perplexed.

“I know what it is,” Midge huffs out, completely annoyed at herself.

“Okay, well, what is it?”

“I want another baby,” she announces.

Lenny blinks, tilting his head as he gazes at her. “Like a…a fourth kid? You want to add a four child to this madhouse?”

“Yes.”

“Explain.”

Midge shrugs. “It just…feels right. One more. One with you.”

He sighs softly, obviously trying not to start a fight. “The pregnancy and then the recovery and handling a newborn…it’s an entire other job on top of the ones you currently have as a comedian and a mother of three school-aged kids…”

“I know,” Midge nods.

Lenny stays quiet for a moment. “Is this about the Grammy that came flying at your head last month?”

She sighs. "Well it did scare the bejesus out of me and bring me face to face with my own mortality, so maybe a little."

"I guess I'm asking…do you really want another, or are you just still scared?" He asks, rubbing her sides soothingly. "Because the fear will pass, but we'd be stuck with a fourth kid forever. They have terrible return policies on those things."

Midge huffs out a laugh and closes her eyes. "I think…I really do want one." She opens then again, peering up at him. "What do you want?"

Lenny grins softly, obviously thinking it over. "I like being a dad. And I fucked up Kitty’s babyhood quite a bit. Getting another shot doesn't sound bad. But being the dad is nothing compared to what you'd be doing."

She shrugs. "It's old hat."

He gazes at her contrmpatlatively. "You're sure."

Midge takes a breath, squaring her shoulders and nods. "I'm sure."

"You're not gonna wake up for a three AM feeding and wish you could leave it at B. Altman like a dress you thought you wanted but changed your mind on?"

"Oh, no I will completely do that," she tells him. "But that's the fleeting feeling. Not the wanting a baby part."

Lenny chuckles softly. "We're crazy."

"Yes, that's why we got married in the first place," Midge reminds him. "There's safety in numbers."

He leans in, kissing her slowly as he pulls her in close, and Midge forgets all about jokes and dishes, her fingers slipping to his neck as he starts to maneuver them out of the kitchen.

She moans softly, thankful that the kids are with her parents tonight. "Starting already?" Ske asks between kisses.

His lips attach themselves to her neck. "No time like the present," he mumbles.

[bisaster-energy]

you can tell me about your idea!!!

thank you so much 😭 it's kinda long sorry

SO i was listening to a song my sister like (Valerie, Amy Winehouse) and there's this line about ginger hair and it was just so specific ig it stuck with me? so im thinking man who do i know with red hair...DUH KUWABARA!!!

nearly every song i listen to gets assigned a character or ship or relationship of some sort idk why but yeah once i fixated on the hair i was able to expand on the rest of the song and a sort of idea settled in the back of my head about kuwameshi

we all know kuwabara is always the one getting left behind but what if while he's off doing his thing yusuke also feels that sense of loss? an absence even though it was his decision to up and leave. it makes no sense cos hey! you felt the need to go back to the demon realm bro but he cannot help how he feels left behind in some illogical sense. i made some notes 😤😤

centers round the time where yusuke goes back to makai after the whole sensui debacle and kuwabara is getting his education studying in prep for college (hell yeah boy !!) not sure if the timelines even match up like that but i literally dont care

i'm working under the canon divergence that keiko really did decide she's not gonna wait for urameshi like that but ofc she's still his bestie and he loves her sooooo much <3

so he's going back. he's a demon now so he feels drawn to the culture. it's a side of himself he's never known after feeling so othered ofc he's interested right?

i mean sure he grew up with other humans but almost everyone hated him/was scared of him ironically he was called a demon or monster or wtv

reactions like that are why he almost decided not to come back to life in the first place!! it wasn't a welcoming atmosphere and even his home didn't feel great cos his mom isn't exactly the mothering type

im all for deadbeat moms but the neglect will fuck a kid up. demon heritage or not

and he loves her and all but it's just all fucked up at home so he ended up wandering around a lot being mad about his shitty life and he likes fighting so that's what he did!

and obviously in makai this behavior isnt like. crazy or uncalled for

but yeah the only connections he's got to ningenkai is his mom, keiko (her parents by extension) and of course kuwabara; the only friends he managed to not scare off

anyway. you get it. so yusuke is back in makai and without his permission his mind keeps wandering to kuwabara who he hasn't seen in let's say. a year and some change? i'll decide later but A While

and like. last time he was in the demon world kuwa was WITH him yknow? like yeah the world was ending but it feels weird without him even if he is having a blast fighting with his new demon buddies and acquaintances

so he's a little distracted when he literally came here to fight he cant even focus on it

"how is college prep treating him? are the teachers there just as bad as middle school? did he make new human friends? a girlfriend?" basically he's spiraling over changes he might be missing out on this very moment

there's a bunch of talk in the song where the singer wonders if valerie dyed her hair if she's busy if she ever paid that fine if she sold her house if she got a man so that's where i got it lol

yusuke doesn't have to worry about kurama and hiei cos hey they're from here and have lived way longer and they actually do visit but who knows what typa shit could be happening to kuwa right now

ofc he can take care of himself he's really strong but yusuke can't help but remember that time he let kuwabara go when he shouldn't have and he almost died because he wasn't there and yeah. he's worried. sue him

so it's half worry half wistfulness and maybe some other secret third thing and when hiei and maybe kurama (depending on how the idea forms as i write) come to visit or maybe they're also participating wtv

he cant help but think well kuwabara could be here with us if he really WANTED to :/ he's got the jigen to down pat by now so...why hasn't he...

and those old but ever remaining insecurities resurface about how people don't wanna be around him they think he's a nuisance at best no good waste of time a trouble maker. keiko already dumped my sorry ass so who knows maybe kuwabara just...wisened up

hiei and kurama are like this bitch is back on his bullshit (affectionate)

they manage to weedle his worries out of him hiei ofc trying to act like he doesnt really care (he cares a lot) "you must not have much faith in kuwabara if you think he'd abandon you just from some time apart. and i thought HE was the oaf between the two of you"

kurama with his fox self is like "well yes hiei is right of course kazuma is too loyal to do something like that. but he is human...the only human of us now."

yusuke is like wth is that supposed to mean on the defensive even tho kurama is their friend and hasn't even said anything untrue and hiei narrows his eyes a bit maybe but is still acting like this doesn't really concern him

"i just mean that...from what i've learned about humans over the time i've spent with them...time feels different. we demons live such long lives that when faced with the human lifespan well...it can be laughable to some. that's why demons can be so callous about their lives."

yusuke just wants him to get to the point ofc "what i'm saying is we don't need a lot of contact with each other to keep relationships fresh and healthy but, kuwabara might be a little different. 3 years will do nothing to your bond but...i do worry about longer periods..."

and he seems to just trail off and it just gets quiet and a little sad and hiei isn't looking at them anymore

kurama starts again pretty cheerfully tho "well, don't worry! i'm planning on staying in the human world for quite some time once i'm done with this visit! i do have the company to take care of so i'll make sure to see kazuma all the time! i'll even send him a message from you if you want to say anything :)"

kurama has deliberately been using kuwa's first name knowing damn well urameshi doesn't even use it because this dude is not JUST a sweetie he's a fucking master manipulator. gaslight gatekeep bbg

yusuke is like okay yeah no new plan i'll just go see him now. no need for a middle man thanks anyway and then he's just gone. left the tournament early. like bruh that's what you came here for 😐

so yeah he's breaking into kuwa's house next thing you know and ofc he goes through the window not the door like a normal person and he just kinda stops short because he hasn't seen his friend in what feels like forever even though it's only been like a year or so but he just looks so different

and yeah a big part might be the hair he's never seen without that popadour, long soft copper coils, and he's somehow even bigger than when yusuke left him jesus when did he get so swole? when did he have time in between all those brainiac classes

yusuke knows he's bound to look a lil different too ofc i mean they weren't kids anymore really but like. when they hell did you go and grow up?

"next time i come back is this even gonna be your house anymore? will you still wanna hang out with dropout delinquent demon urameshi?" he gets so insecure in so little time

anyway kuwabara didn't sense him at first cos yusuke isn't a threat and he never really thought he'd be coming especially not yet but when he does notice

kuwabara just gets the biggest goofiest grin he's like urameshi you dog when the hell did you get back in town you're early!!

and yusuke is significantly eased by this reaction but now he feels stupid cos he up a left everything just to what? bother kuwabara while he studies to achieve his dreams? yusuke has got no human world aspirations like keiko had. like kurama has. like kuwabara.

and ofc kuwabara looks glad to see him but he wasn't desperate enough to just show up like yusuke had just done and he feels like a pathetic loser so he pouts

he's like yeah hey man just uh. checking in. and i should probably check out hah you seem busy with your books so im gonna scram and he tries to retreat through the window

and ofc kuwa is NOT letting him get away

and there's that desperation yusuke had selfishly wanted to see. kuwabara had just grabbed him without thinking even though he'd promised himself when urameshi left he wasn't gonna just sit around waiting for his life to start when he came back

he remembers when yusuke took him into that headlock and he wanted to succeed like he said he would that day

but still he's just thinking about urameshi all the time and it's awful. he always said he was gonna beat him some day but he just wanted to be near him. but all he sees is his back, even right now

part ii cos it's too many words!

[correctrvbquotes]

Cut through various scenery shots during the flashy new title panels, eventually settling on a front gate with Wyoming walking through it

Wyoming: You there, look alive.

Wyoming goes through the door, and as the Guards chatter Tex, invisible, sneaks up behind them

Blue Guard: Crikey, boss seems like he's in a bad mood today.

Red Guard: No kidding.

Blue Guard: What's gone up his bum eh?

Red Guard: What do you think tomorrow is?

Blue Guard: Hold on a bit... You hear that?

Red Guard: Hear what?

Blue Guard: You hear that?

Red Guard: Hear what?

Blue Guard: Come on you gotta hear that one.

Red Guard: Hear whaa-ooooh crap.

Tex punches the Red Guard in the face and knocks him out, then goes visible and runs down a hallway as the Blue Guard shoots at her

Blue Guard: (honing in) Gotcha now, mate! What's that noise?

Blue Guard looks down and sees a glowing blue spider grenade attached to his foot

Blue Guard: Crikey!

The grenade goes off, shooting the Guard very high in the air

Tex: Hope I didn't scare ya fellas.

Blue Guard: Crikeeeeeeeeeeeeeey (lands behind Tex as she walks by) ...Bollucks.

Tex: (in voiceover) I'd been tracking my old friend, Wyoming, hoping that he'd lead me to his boss. But I wasn't having any luck, until he came here. Now I hate locked doors, but at least that means there's something, or someone, worth lockin' up. Still, I have a pretty good sixth sense, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking right in to a ...

The locked door she was talking about opens suddenly, and Wyoming drives a jeep at her face

Tex: (backing up swiftly) Crap!

The jeep goes up a slope and gets stuck

Wyoming: Well well, look who abandoned her mates to follow me. I'm flattered of course, but you'll pardon me for not acting surprised, Tex.

Tex: (in voiceover) Oh, by the way? I'm Tex. And yes, I know it's a guy's name.

Wyoming: And it seems you've killed my two best guards. Oh bugger.

Tex: Oops. Sorry 'bout that.

Wyoming: Perish the thought, my dear. Tomorrow is pay day; you actually saved me quite a bit of money. Kill anyone else and I might have to start paying you commission.

Tex: Where is he?

Wyoming: Oh right, and here I thought you were spending all this time trying to get close to me. Tisk tisk.

Tex: Cut the shit. Where is he?

Wyoming: Yes, he asks about you too, Tex. It's almost as if you two are on the same mind.

Tex: That's not funny.

Wyoming: Sorry, but I can't play matchmaker today, I'm entirely too busy.

Wyoming backs the jeep off the incline, and Tex jumps on the side and starts punching him in the face. He runs the jeep against the wall to get rid of her and drives off

Tex: Dammit!

Wyoming: Ta ta for now!

Tex: (in voiceover while chasing him on foot) So here's my problem: Wyoming was my only lead. Losing him would mean losing any chance of finding his boss. There was no way I was gonna let that happen. Wyoming didn't know it, but he was gonna lead me right to him.

While monologuing, Tex picks up a nearby sniper rifle and loads it with a tracking device and shoots the back of Wyoming's car with it

Voice on Radio: Come in Wyoming.

Wyoming: Wyoming here, go ahead.

Voice on Radio: Did she take the bait?

Wyoming: Indeed. Hook line and sinker, mate. Hook line and sinker.

Voice on Radio: Excellent. Hm hm hm hm ha ha ha ha haa.

[nazmazh]

So, saw a Reddit thread asking about what sort of alternate characters/costumes/looks you'd really, really want for Dead by Daylight, and me, being the nerd I am want so many Remedy-Verse characters (generally would be alternates for Alan unless, like Jesse Faden were to be brought in as a character in her own right, which is pretty unlikely).

And of course, that includes Odin and Tor Anderson. Give Bill Overbeck some company in the Cool Old Geezer category.

And I got to thinking - Those two probably would fucking love being in The Entity's Realm. They'd treat it like some sort of Valhalla - Have fun being able to run basically forever and have a task to work on. And, sure, they can't really do anything to hurt the killers, that wouldn't stop them from trying periodically - Just to see if it might work this time, but if it still doesn't, they'd happily embrace a warrior's death, over and over, protection their teammates and hopefully buying them time to win.

Not "escape" - They know that's not actually truly possible (at least, most likely not). Their True Sight abilities mean that The Entity isn't able to wipe their memories or confuse them about how long they've been there (Or the fact that they really actually don't need to eat or drink in the Realm anyway).

Like I say though - Even knowing all this - They'd probably view the Realm as some sort of afterlife anyway, and there's certainly worse fates than being trapped in The Entity's sadistic games - Really.

Especially knowing that despite however much it might hurt, they're not truly going to die, just respawn, I feel like they'd pretty enthusiastically play the games - Feeling especially satisfied when they do put one over on killers and escape/win the match.

They'd also probably be mouthy towards literally every killer (and a good deal of the survivors too, but those would be more teasing/joking around). Like, the Statler and Waldorf of the Realm.

"Bro, I'm gonna level with you - I think there might be something wrong with your stash. The sickly orange glow is probably a bad sign for most drugs"

"Ooh... Scary clown! Bah! I've opened for clowns scarier than you! You know what's really terrifying? Being stuck in a green room with Gene Simmons when he's trying to give you business advice!"

"Oh no. A teenager with a knife. So original. Oh, you've got a hood and a mask too? Well now, that's really scary. And definitely innovative."

"You know miss, I don't think I've ever seen you actually sell anyone a skull. Do you have any for purchase? No, really, I want to help you with that whole 'Merchant' thing. Otherwise, it's just silly, isn't it?"

"Ma'am, I'm gonna suggest that you should avoid whatever you've been eating. It sucks, I know. I can't eat anything with cinnamon after supper anymore without needing a whole bottle of antacids. Maybe the entity will do you a favour a pull in some of that bismuth stuff from somewhere?"

"Oh, you wanna be all big and scary? I can roar like a madman too! If I had my hammer I'd show you how an Aesir deals with giants and trolls."

"I gotta say, Bro, you oughta get a refund on those shades. They don't seem to do shit for you!" (*Blinds Wesker with a flashlight*)

"Am I supposed to be scared of you? Bro, you're the failed reboot version of yourself! They didn't even find you worthwhile enough to keep making *more* new sequels with! I'm pretty sure I've only ever seen 'real' Michael Myerses and Leatherfaces kicking around. None of that Rob Zombie remake one, or any of the 10,000 attempts at making a new Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie. So, what's your excuse, New Coke? Is The Entity just waiting to give us Freddy Classic as some sort of marketing gimmick?"

[I cannot stress enough that while they'd be saying stuff like this while cleverly dodging out of the way, or pallet stunning and whatnot. They'd absolutely be spouting this stuff while actively dying]

[sinister-faye]

The new years resolution update.

Gonna keep this one smaller.

But I had another mental barrier pop up recently. And this one was the hardest one yet.

It turns out that most of my projects were a form of dissociation. Before recently, I only thought of disassociation as going numb. Or merely zoning out. But I never thought of it as a positive thing.

Like my plans all pretty much looked like:

Step 1: come up with a framework, or rough draft.

Step 2: I'll figure it out later. But it will probably be cool with 0 friction or obstacles.

Step 3: accept awards and accolades. And get a billion dollars.

When life got tough I would then use these blogs, the writing of lore™️, or the daydreaming about success act as a form of self regulation.

And holy shit life has been tough. There is a graveyard of like 16 projects from 2023. All decent ideas. But, no plans to deal with failure. No plans to deal with time limitations. No plans for any kind of struggle, or lack of knowledge.

During an awful time in my life I learned to daydream. A LOT. During my 2 year disassociation nightmare called a Mormon mission I learned how to make plans. But my current life sucked so fucking bad, that I couldn't let any amount of negativity into my little dream space. Including little pieces of friction like: lack of knowledge, or experience get in the way of my shiny dream that would save me from a life of drudgery. Anything that did not resemble that life.

So that mode and mindset stuck with me.

There didn't need to be a plan beyond wild success and awesome art. It really just needed to help me get through a struggle. But once I was getting started on something, if there was any friction, suddenly I needed to switch to something else. As the excitement and soothing feelings of project A would end. I would need project B to give me the emotional boost that I craved.

So I was self regulating my stress with daydreaming. While also somehow expecting those daydreams to come true. While on top of that all, feeling deep feelings of guilt for never completing something prior.

It was not healthy.

It still isn't.

I'm learning how to regulate my stress and recognize what I'm calling "daydream disassociation".

It sounds so basic but I'm lying out a roadmap. Then I'm laying in a course to point myself towards those goals. Charting where I am in skill level now, towards where I want to be.

My goals need to do the following:

- Have steps that I can work towards in the next 24 hours. Additional steps should be added once they are known. 48 hour and 72 hour goals really help hone a direction to work.

- include sacrifices or stress points as part of the plan, or accommodate for the possibility of stress points.

Example:

I want to exercise and get sexy. But I don't know that much about working out certain muscle groups.

I know that I will be sore, and tired, changing my diet and this will take up an hour of my already busy day.

Goals for 24 hours: look up fitness guides for beginners

Goals for 48 hours begin those exercises and take steps to study and improve nutrition.

No just envisioning myself on a beach, I need to think about what those workouts look like, how I will feel during and after, pain included, I will more than likely follow through with all of this.

And then if I do catch myself daydreaming about results I reassure myself that this is merely a dream, and the reality will be harder but worthwhile.

So if you read all this nonsense and wonder why I'm always writing as if I am a current indie dev darling who is mere weeks away from launching a product. It's because I believed it. But I didn't want to fight for it. But now I do.

The old blogs will remain up. To document this journey of self hype and dreaming.

The next post will be deliberate. And showcasing why you should follow me. As opposed to dropping vague hints hoping to entice you with something that is as substantial as a dream I once had.

If you have read any of my other posts. Thank you for following along with my creative journey. I'm going to build this journey on a solid foundation. Not on dreams and hopes.

Thank you.

[mesillusionssousecstasy]

Buying Beverly Hills: Season 2

It was nice.

A bit heartbreaking when they discussed about the separation and the family.

I like the people.

Santiago is definitively handsome (maybe more than Adam).

Is it me or Zach at the end of season two is not wearing the wedding ring? haha.

Some quotes:

"- Another day, another dollar." (Episode 1)

"- The house comes fully furnished, designed by Faye Resnick." (Episode 2)

"- Body language. (Brandon) - Brandon... (Farrah) - Like, do you not see me? Are you choosing to not see me? This guy is literally showing me his back. It's so disrespectful." (Brandon - Episode 3) "- Your content's not interesting. How would you feel? (Tyler) - I think I'm the wrong person to ask for empathy in this situation. (Ben) - Well, it's getting hard to defend you... to be honest. I would just remove your ego and really just humble yourself, really apologize, and move one." (Tyler - Episode 3)

"- What, I say, "Here's a boundary", and you push past it?" (Ben) - It was too many boundaries for a friendship. It's like a relationship. It's like a high school... (Zach - Episode 4)

"- I'm gonna give you a heads-up. I don't sugarcoat shit. Okay, I'm, like, I say what I mean, I mean what I say. If she'd have scrubbed, she would have known, so I made enough of an impression that she won't do that to me anymore." (Michelle - Episode 4)

"- Adam, you were the.. you were the big talk of our lunch. It was lovely. It was like a Sex and the City episode I got stuck in with this gigantic competition/fight. (Zach) - Tell me about it." (Adam - Episode 6)

"- Loyalty in general is a very important thing for me. And in business, let's put it this way. I won't engage in business with people that are not loyal." (Episode 7)

"- 100%. Best way to do it. Sink or Swim. Throw her in the deep end." (Episode 7)

"- I don't sit back and wait for things to happen to me or for me. I make them happen for myself. - Yeah, in a conniving, thirsty way." (Episode 8)

"- She's in the friend group. So there's no weirdness at all that you're not on the listing? (Farrah) - Other than the weirdness she's making right now, not really." (Joey - Episode 8)

"- He says stuff for shock value purposes only. He doesn't care about what words are coming out of his mouth." (Alexia) - Which is not very smart. At all, yeah. (Sofia) - No! (Tyler - Episode 8)

"- Acting like everything's okay all the time is not gonna allow you to fix the issue at hand. (Alexia - Episode 8)

"- Look, I don't list properties to list them. I list them to sell them. (Ben) - Of course." (Episode 9)

"- How's it going here with this spec house? (Ben) - Good and bad. This house has so much to offer in the way of bells and whistles and everything you would want in brand-new construction. And the grennery, the air is fresher. (Zach) - Okay, so you have no offers. (Ben) - And we have nothing." (Zach - Episode 9)

"- My frustration with Zach is that I had to listen to him for three years considering The Agency. No, I have to listen to him consider leaving The Agency. (Ben) - I'm in, like this Zach Goldsmith purgatory. You see temptation in life, you have to decide if you're gonna take it or fight it off." (Zach - Episode 9)

"- I'm really hoping this is the last time, because I'm at my wit's end with it all." (Episode 9)

"- You're here, and he doesn't give a fuck 'cause he trusts me, he trusts us, but when you're saying things about who I am and my relationship, I can't have you around like this. So don't make me lose you because I like having you around." (Alexia - Episode 9)

"- We always crush this. Why are you so angry? - I'm not angry. Why are you the victim here?" (Episode 10)

"- Who was the designer? - César Giraldo." (Episode 10)

"- You have the ability. The same way to fuck it up is to unfuck it up." (Episode 10)

"- Wall woodwork by Duchateau." (Episode 10)

"- Designed by Wylan James."

[aewrie]

distractions aren't working so

(yelling into the void to get this out of my system but seriously tread carefully if you're sensitive to topics of abuse/ c/sa /mental health crap)

i'd be looking for a therapist but am not exactly in the headspace to do so. my old one was overall great and i'd be contacting her but she was basically useless when it came to this topic. think she was more confused and conflicted at the idea of a child being the abuser than me. which. that's not gonna help. and by the time i'd trust myself to see through that ordeal idk. i could probably use it anyway but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

could use it right now. i've been crying on and off for like 3-4 hours, while teetering on the edge of another breakdown

took me what, 10?? years before i felt ok using the word trauma in reference to being bullied for years. even after i kinda knew how fucked it all was. only after a health professional was like 'yeah, that's trauma you've got going on' after hearing the tl;dr of my life i felt i was allowed to. (she then proceeded to recommend therapy lmao). bc it wasn't so bad. boy i'm good at rationalizing all that away. other people always have it worse! and it's not like there was obvious violence, so obviously it doesn't count.

same fucking thing when i got diagnosed with depression and anxiety. i was passively suicidal & heading into worse direction and i was only willing to admit that i was sad & anxious. probably. surely not anything that would warrant treatment.

and now this thing i've filed away under 'miscellaneous shit that was not ideal probably, but surely it wasn't' That Bad, other people have it Worse':

yesterday i checked out this vr interview stream dealing with abuse right before i had to go sleep (the best idea ever. clearly) and at the point i started watching the discussion made basically no sense so i figure i go to the start and watch from there. and the interviewee describes the abuse, and i'm fine until a particular detail comes up and then it kinda unraveled from there. i had to pause just to get a breather. i watched maybe a few minutes more idk.

i've looked into child psychology and sexual development before bc ever since i bumped into the term child-on-child sa i've been stuck with the whole 'but does it count if x y z' (mostly: can someone so young even be an abuser, bc obviously if he didnt' intentionally & maliciously do it, i am not allowed to feel upset), even earlier that same damn day! but nothing unequivocally said yes or no. so of course i'm going with the safe answer of no, i'm not allowed to call it abuse.

but after that Moment i looked at some more stuff and found a couple of videos, one from a therapist knowledgeable on the topic, and one first-hand account, read some comments to boot, and then i'm having the sort of crying episode that leaves me feeling physically sick for a full day at least

at work today I was distracted the second i was not properly busy, then i managed to keep it together for a bit when i got home and now here we are. fuck i'm glad i'll have multiple days off now. on the long run this is good to process. but def not feeling it right now lol. at least i'm not stuck in a corner of fandom where loaded buzzwords get thrown around like they mean nothing, i knew that fucked with my head even back during the vl/d heyday and i was just getting around to the 'ok that Happened and maybe it was messed up, but Not abuse' stage of denial

good news i might be done crying rn so i guess that helped

i guess this was gonna be happening sooner or later bc i've been somewhat actively thinking about all that for months but rip it came out of nowhere

(and gonna throw it in here just in case; i'd rather not have 'i'm sorry' messages or similar, 9 times out of 10 i just feel awkward as shit. more neutral (not sure what's the best word?) is fine)

[sacredglitch]

M, N, T, V??

rubs hands Let's go;

M - If I forgive betrayal.

I'm a very situational person, I love things given context to so I can really put myself into the shoes of it all. But for general sake, I'm gonna say no. I can't. I have had a lot of people come and go in my life and many have been because they've hurt me, and in lasting ways too (dare I say....traumatising ways?). So if I end up hurt in betrayal? I couldn't forgive them. Context would matter of course, but...from current outcomes, it's a no.

N - If you want to know how I treat my friends.

I treat them like family. Honestly, if they're that close to me then they're family. One thing I do wish is that I got it back though. The saying I was raised around was "Treat others how you'd like to be treated" and it's stuck to me now.

But I've also come to learn that other people don't seem to grasp that concept or they abuse that concept. Which I guess wouldn't be wrong in comparison to my family's act sometimes but it isn't how it should be.

T - 5 things I love unconditionally.

Hmm, can't think of five but I can definitely do three. First is definitely my boys, my lil homeslices Bud and Murf (dogs by the by). Everyday there's something new with them whether it be Murf trying to back talk my Ma, or Buddy barking at Murf for stealing his blanket, it's like watching The Odd Couple with them. But I love them so much, they bring a lot of joy into my life just by sitting in front of me and blinking xD.

I suppose another would be the friends that have stuck by me through a lot of shit. They're few and far between and I don't tell them enough I love them but I do, and I appreciate everything and anything they do or say to me. Even if it's just sending me a picture of a racoon with a caption "God gave one look at me and ran away" or some shit I still love it dearly.

The stinky lil men that I've fallen for in fandoms. They're a widespread of personality, looks, even species but the unbridled joy seeing them in media posts or even hearing their VAs or actors in other media makes me so fucking happy. Giddy leg kicks and all, baby!

V - 3 big dreams.

Transitioning. That's the biggest one. I've probably mentioned it before at some point but that's been my big dream, specifically getting top surgery, cause I'm tired of wearing bulky clothes along with a binder to hide my size. I wanna wear open shirts damn it! Alongside going on hormones and finally feeling comfy in existing but top surgery is the big one. Hate that I don't have much of a choice but to go abroad but there's plentiful doctors with amazing top surgery records that have caught my eye. I hope it's sooner rather than later.

I'm conflicted on saying a job, cause in my current state, that's a no bueno for even education but I hope to one day be stable enough for it. And my dream job is...it's a toss between something to do with computers like cyber crime or ethical hacking for business' firewalls and protection and blah, or paramedics. Two vastly different jobs but they've stuck with me for most of my life. They're both (if I take the cyber crime route) jobs I can say "I've done something to help others" instead of letting whatever stop me and waste my time while I'm still kicking. They'll both be something I'll be proud I did.

This is probably the most open I'm ever going to be on tumblr (past me would be shocked but proud it's not DA anymore) but one other dream is to function. I want to be able not to overthink or jump to the worst case for anything in my life. I want to be able to have that deep breath and move on technique work for me and allow me to continue past whatever may have faltered me for a moment. I'm tired of getting upset over the littlest things, tired of thinking I'm disposable (despite much evidence in my past supporting it but the past is the past), tired of not understanding why I can't keep a hold on most things, and just tired of not...meeting what I should be meeting at my age?

There's no one pressuring me, no one hurting me, no one causing any of this but the silly little chemicals in my brain. And, currently, without supports in both friends/family and professional (because thanks HSE for telling me I'm "doing too good for their services") I'm just...not functioning. And it's tiring and irritating and just...

It shouldn't be a dream but it is. And that's one I'm striving for the most to happen ASAP. Because I can't deal with the lack of functionality I have anymore.

The list did say brutal honesty and damn did I get brutally honest at the end.

Anywho-

[macabrecake]

THAT SENT TOO EARLY SEBIWBW7DB HELLO, CAKE, im invading your inbox to request a smol blurb of re6 Leon and fem! Reader where reader is a rookie and Leon is vv protective of them and when Leon thinks reader is accidentally killed but turns out to be okay, he kisses her or sumn idk im blushingbsjwbwebeu

HAHAHAHA HI LYN and oh shit oh my fucking god u H- You're an amazing writer I've been saying that since I first met you (Eros Trials bby godDAMN) so for you to send me an ask that's also RE6 Leon? AAAAA I'M DEADASS GOING TO PASS AWAY 😭 but I'm gonna try my best so here we go!

In the DSO, Leon is known as one of the best agents who gets his business done with complete professionalism, not without some slight snark on the side of course.

He's also kind of your bodyguard of some sort.

He still has no damn clue how you did it, though. After all, you're just a rookie who happened to take a shine to him. Following him around like a lost puppy that's so young, and bright, and eager to try your best. It's like looking at himself in his rookie years. Ok, sure he'll offer some sagely advice in the hopes you don't turn out like him.

And sure he'll accept your company, it's greatly appreciated on the days when work was slow anyways- maybe he'll wait a little until he knows it's you coming. Listening to the sound of your heels lightly tapping the floor along with your voice softly singing whatever tune is stuck in your head that day. But he never meant to get this attached.

Now it's meeting up for coffee on weekends just to chat about everything and nothing all at once. Now it's him stepping in as your shield when other co-workers try to shake you up just because you're the newbie. Now it's his heart stopping because he just watched your body fall limp.

"Y/N!"

God, why did he have to get so attached?

It was your first mission out in the field. You, Leon, and Helena just landed in China- more like crashed. Where you met up with Agent Sherry Birkin and Jake Muller. You've heard about Sherry before and was already aware of her and Leon's history as survivors of Raccoon City. Jake was new though, would've liked a more proper introduction if not for the sudden appearance of the Ustanok.

The behemoth had downed Helena and would've most definitely killed her if you didn't act fast. Before your brain could scream that this probably wouldn't be a wise choice, you gunned for it. Quickly climbing up it's back you start shooting, stabbing, kicking, anything that would buy her some time. It did work, a little too well. Helena managed to clear off but you weren't so lucky when the Ustanok grabs you and tosses you like you weighed nothing more than a bag of bread.

Your world blurs with the sudden velocity, everything too loud to focus on as the wind rushes past your ears, until your back harshly meets one of the shipping containers with a loud bang. Delivering you a stark contrast of sudden silence and darkness.

It's unclear how long you stayed like that until a deep, frantic voice pierces your unconscious veil. "Come on baby girl, get up..." Your body moves but you can't tell where or from what. "Don't do this to me- please!"

Your eyes flutter open with a groan as your hand comes up to hold your aching head, "Did anyone catch the number on that truck?" You weakly ask. Vision focusing on a familiar pair of deep, fear ridden, gorgeous blue eyes shrouded in shiny golden locks.

It sinks in now how close Leon is to you. You can feel his body heat as he holds your smaller frame snuggly against him. Shielding you once again but so much closer than normal. You're worried he's gonna be mad about your stunt and yell at you so you try to soften the blow with a timid, "I'm sorry."

What you get in response instead, is the agent's shoulders loosening up with a sigh of relief then-

Pure plush warmth and spearmint.

You don't get a chance to register or reciprocate the small, but passionate, kiss Leon lays to your lips before he's pulling away as gently as he gave it to you. Leaving you rather dumbfounded but holy FUCK are you fully awake now.

"Did you just...?" You start, hoping he'll answer for you. What you receive instead is Leon's usual little smirk as he stands up and offers a hand to help you up. "Maybe, but you mind holding that thought until we get out of this?"

You giggle and accept, letting him pull you up to your feet with ease and follow him back into the fray.

Your giddy little smile matching his.

[vannybarber]

The Prenup

Summary: After four years of being together and finally being engaged, Chris wants you to sign a prenup.

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, chris getting his ass handed to him, a lot of pain.

Part Two Part Three Part Four Final Chapter

Scrounging through the little desk in the corner of Chris and you's bedroom, you hear him let out a boisterous laugh.

He was watching some movie and there was a certain part that he found so hilarious. After 4 years of watching it with him constantly, you still don't get what's so funny. But it makes him happy so that's what matters.

You were searching for the wine opener so Scott could get his middle-aged-4-kids-divorcee vibe on. You cleaned the other day and stuck it in there after a nightly dose of freakydeaky from Chris, which consisted of wine, whipped cream, and a many different forms of chocolate.

After what seemed like forever, you find the corkscrew and grin at your accomplishment. You take one more look in the drawer out of habit and you spot a big orange envelope with Chris' name on it. Being the nosy curious person you are, you take the envelope out and get a good look at it. You see the words Prenuptial Agreement in bold and your heart drops.

Chris had proposed to you 9 months ago and you were happy beyond words. After being together for 4 years, he finally put away his commitment troubles and made you his fianceé. And now you find out he's going to get you to sign a prenup. A fucking prenup.

You look around the room at loss for words. You were angry, hurt and confused. After 4 years of being together, he doesn't have faith in his own judgment that you guys would be together forever? You both have been through literally everything. There isn't one thing you don't know about each other. Your relationship was rare and it was special.

After moments of contemplation, you decide you would confront him on it. There's no way you could carry on the night and sleep after this. Not until you get your answers. Closing the drawer, you take a sharp breath and exhale before walking out the room. You get back to the dining table where Lisa and his siblings surrounded.

"Here you go Scott" you say slamming the corkscrew on the table in front of him. He looks up at you, puzzled. You glance at him then at Chris and he's looking at you just the same. Evidently your tone matched your movements because everyone went silent. You draw back and put both hands behind your back and huff.

"Babe, are you alright?" It was Christopher talking to you now. Your attention goes to him and your lips are in a thin line. Refraining from blowing up at him, you force smile on your face and change your tone of voice.

"What do you mean, honey? I'm fine." You should leave the acting to Chris honestly. That's definitely not your field of expertise. Shifting on your right foot, you stare at him. He shuffles and tilts his head with a knowing look.

"Spill it Y/N. What's up?"

"The flames when I burn this damn house down." So much for not blowing up. You snatch the envelope in front of you and chuck it on the table. Everyone watches the exchange and the envelope fly to the table. All their faces change from confusion to shock and even more confusion.

Chris didn't even need to look down to know it was the prenup. His eyes went from you to the wall. Guilt written all over it, you almost wish you gave a shit. You wonder how long he was going to keep this hidden from you. No need to wonder now.

"You want to explain to me why you have a prenup?" You place your hand on your hip and roll your neck at him.

"I got that for us."

You swear to everything you wanted to lunge at him right then and there. 'I got that for us'. Why do people always use that excuse for everything? They weren't thinking about you, just themselves and expected you to go along with it.

"You got it for us? I know you didn't do this on your own. Who put you up to it?" You look around the room. Scott has his hands up shaking his head. Carly and Shanna both let out a quiet "not me". You look at Lisa who had this look of hurt.

"Chris, you tell me everything. How did I not know about this? Why didn't you tell me?" Well now you know she didn't suggest it. You feel slightly guilty for letting it cross your mind, but you had your reasons.

"Ma, I had my reasons. I kept it hidden because I didn't know how I felt about it myself" he says rubbing his face and fixing his hair under his cap. Still didn't answer your question.

"Christopher, who put you up to this? Tell me now!" You're getting fired up by the minute. You have an idea who it could be too.

"Megan. She thought that it would be smart to consider. Just to protect me."

"Megan." Your voice is laced with absolute venom. "You know Chris, she does a good job keeping you out of trouble and bullshit so you're not all over the tabloids, but sometimes, her ass is too much!"

Chris is never in the news for anything negative. He's always minding his business and moving quietly. Megan is a great publicist, but she can be pretty overbearing about his personal life. She gave you side eye for like the entire first year of you guys' relationship.

"Baby, she was just looking out for me. You know how it is, women getting with you for your money. Guys loose half of everything they have when getting divorces."

You can't even believe it.

"I am not 'women'. I'm your fianceé. We've been together 4 years, Chris! After all this time your material things come before me?" Tears are puddled at your eyes now and your voice is cracking. This catches his attention.

"I told you from the start Chris, that I never cared about your money! Never have and never will. I am used to not having much. I'm not money hungry or concerned for having top tier everything. I've learned to settle."

"Y/N, I didn't mea-" you slam your hand on the table, making everyone jump. Chris shuts his mouth.

"I'm. Not. Finished. I am not marrying your bank account. I'm not marrying your cars. I'm not marrying your house. I don't give a damn about any of that shit. And you literally are still concerned about all of that?" Your face is wet and your nose is runny. You wipe your nose and cross your arms.

"It's not even like that!" Now he's getting upset. For literally nothing. This is his fault. "It's just in case it doesn't work out, we don't need to deal with all the extra mess."

That completely shattered you. In case it doesn't work out. He actually has thoughts that your marriage couldn't work. What would even cause that? You guys don't even argue. You don't even remember the last time you did. You've learned to understand what each other needs and mastered that. What is he on about?

"You know what the sad part is? Us not working out crossed my mind in, like, the first year of our relationship. And I decided that if we did get married, and God forbid we divorced, I wouldn't take anything from you."

He looked at you like he just found out he wasn't the father of your baby.

"Yeah, Chris. That's your money. You made it, not me, so why would I ask for any of it from you? You gave me an amazing relationship and thats enough for me."

"Oh my goodness." Everyone directs their attention to Scott. "So you wouldn't want anything from the divorce?"

"Of course not! I came in this relationship for him. Plus a make my own money. I don't need anyone else's."

You had your own business. Many employees at different buildings in Boston. You didn't have much growing up and you were proud of yourself for not having to worry about financial issues. Chris liked that you had your own thing going and didn't have to adapt to his life and depend on him financially. And he still got a prenup.

Feeling like you were gonna cry again, you rub your temples and take deep breaths to prevent it. But you failed and started crying more. Chris got up and moved to stand in front of you.

"Baby, I'm sorry I upset you. I thought you would be okay with this. Like you said, you don't care about my money so what's wrong with the prenup?" His hands were on your sides, but not for long as you shook them off of you.

"What's wrong with it? What this is telling me is three things. You have doubt that our marriage won't work out, you think I might change my mind and ask for alimony, and that your money comes before me."

"I..." he struggles to form words. You take this chance to get out of there.

"I really don't want to be here right now." Chris looks up and grabs your arm.

"Babe, you don't need to go. Where the hell are you gonna go?" You turn and grab the envelope from the table. You open it and pull the papers out, shoving it in his face.

"I'll go to a hotel or something, but I'm not staying here if this is the shit you're trying to pull with me." You turn the paper to you and look in disgust. You scan over it and your eyes fall on the dotted line where you need to sign. Beside it is where he needed to sign his.

Well not anymore.

You read over his signature on the line. Chris Evans.

He signed the prenup already. Now he was just waiting for your signature. He really was leaving you zero choice.

"You signed it already??" Everyone at the table head snapped up. Shanna gasped and covered her mouth. Lisa mumbles an "oh no" under her breath.

"So you were just going to bring it to me and expect me to sign it with no fight, huh?"

Chris says nothing, but his face is red. You don't wait for a response and walk to your shoes and your bag. Already having everything in there, you slip your shoes on and walk back to Chris.

"Just a heads up, you brought this on yourself."

You whip around and walk to the fireplace. You chuck the papers and envelope in the blaze and turn back to him.

"You can forget about that damn prenup, cause I'm not signing it. As a matter a fact, you don't even have to worry about that because there won't be a chance of us divorcing." You force a smile and clasp your hands together. Lisa and Scott rise from the table panicking.

"Babe, no-"

"Forget the wedding, this engagement and all of it. You can take this fucking ring too." You pry the ring off your fingers and throw it at him. It hits his chest and falls at his feet.

"I'm not marrying you."

You turn on your heel, grab your purse and jacket, walking out the door, leaving the Evans' speechless.

Was this too dramatic? I have my own opinions on a prenup, but maybe it's not as big as it seems? Idk🥴.

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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 13

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: Future you, r u okkkk

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

You stared at Bucky and the gentleman who was with him named Sam Wilson, completely dumbfounded; as if they both had three heads. They were seated across from you, Bucky with a glass of water, and Sam with a bottle of beer in his hand. Sam was just finishing his beer, as well as his speech about his business proposal which had to do with you taking photos of his new products, and models.

Bucky introduced Sam as a long-time friend and an owner of a sporting fit apparel named The Falcons. The name did ring a bell as soon as you heard it. You suddenly remembered passing through it while you and Bucky were strolling down Fifth Street, vaguely telling you about a friend who owned it and six other stores scattered in California, Chicago, London, and Australia (and was planning to branch out more in Asian countries); and here he was right in front of you, hiring you as a photographer for his big-time business.

Sam didn't give you a sliver of time to intervene with his flawless little speech he had committed to memory, as he spoke so fast. Some words were even incomprehensible to you — or perhaps it was just because the world was still whirling around you, given the prior event that just took place.

And now this.

You tried to give Bucky some kind of signal by giving him a look but he encouraged Sam further and urged you to listen to his proposal.

"So, y/n..." Sam rested his hands on the wooden table, his attention solely focused on you. "What do you think?"

If only you could tell him the truth that your mind was completely blank, you would. But you didn't want to embarrass yourself or Bucky for that matter, so you just gave him a smile and did the first thing you could think of. "Mr. Wilson — "

"Oh, you can just call me Sam. There's no need for formalities."

You nodded. "Sam... Do you mind if I have a little discussion with Bucky? It will just take a moment."

Sam leaned back on the cushioned couch of the booth and nodded. "Of course. Take all the time you need."

You didn't give Bucky the time to question why so you immediately stood up, grabbed Bucky's hand from across the booth and dragged his body towards one of the closets the bar rarely used. You closed the door behind you, and switched the light on. Even with the small lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, the inside of the closet still looked dingy, and the dust crawling on the walls and flying in the tight air space were clearly evident.

"Bucky, what the hell is going on?"

"Isn't it great?"

You smacked his arm. "Steve just told me he's getting me fired so that I can focus on my career as a photographer."

"That's even greater!"

You smacked his arm harder this time. "I'm not done." You hissed. "He's giving me one week to figure things out and then I'm fired. If I don't have shit figured out in that one week, I'm not gonna be able to pay for bills. Did you say something to Steve when you came here this morning? Don't lie to me, James."

He was rubbing his arm, brows furrowed. "I told him nothing."

"You showed him the photos I took last night. What was that all about?"

He sighed in defeat. "I just made him realize that you needed to be out there and not stuck here. You said it yourself, y/n, you're stuck in a rut and the only way to get yourself moving is to break from that routine. To go out there and explore the world."

"And then you just swoop in and bring your friend?"

"Yes."

"So, Steve just happens to realize that I needed to go out there and explore the world, and then it just so happens that your friend needs someone to photograph for his business?" You scoffed. "Bucky, do you expect me to believe that this is just one big coincidence? That you're not the one pulling all the strings in this little weird puppet show?"

"Yes, okay, I may have done something about those, said something, but — "

"Oh my god, you can't do that." You had the urge to get some air, and to pace back and forth as you tried to put your thoughts into words, but the space felt tighter the more you spoke. "You can't just walk into people's lives and, and... control everything! This is not just about chasing a dream, this is also about survival. I'm not rich like you. I don't have a safety net when things fall apart. You... You can't put all your trust in me."

"Well, someone needs to." Bucky sternly answered. "And if that someone should be me then so be it."

"I don't even know why you're going to great lengths for me." You looked down on the floor. "I... I don't get it, Bucky. I don't get you at all."

"Hey, hey, hey, listen to me, doll." His hands made contact with your skin, lifting your face to look at his blue eyes. "I apologize for taking things too far, I guess I could act so rash as well but I just wanted to do what I know is right and what would make you happy. Seeing you last night was... heartbreaking."

"So, you pity me." You sighed. "Everybody does."

"Call it what you want, y/n. But people who pity you won't ever believe in you and in what you do. But here I am putting all my trust in you. Your boss Steve does too. And Sam." A smile formed on his lips, making the insides of you flip.

"Your friend Sam sounds like a big deal and he hasn't even seen my photos. How can he trust me to do all this for him?"

"I put my word in for you. I told him if I was wrong, then to hell with me. And if you're worried about people assisting you during the shoot, don't. Sam has people all over and he just needs your beautiful eyes and hands and brain." He laughed. "Sam's a good guy and you're not going to be working for some big corporation. I know you hate those. This is perfect for you, trust me. And right now, all I need you to do is say yes to Sam, say yes to me, and most especially say yes to yourself. Please?"

The atmosphere became lighter, and the room didn't feel that tight any longer. His flattering words forever engraved in your mind. His warm hands stayed on both sides of your face, his face pleading.

You sighed and nodded your head slowly, finally convinced. "Okay, yes."

A grin started to crawl to his face and for a moment, his face drew closer to yours. "Okay, good. Now let's get out of here and tell Sam the good news."

You nodded but a touch of disappointment came, as Bucky's hands left your face. You never knew the presence of Bucky's skin against yours was one thing you could miss. You didn't even know if you should.

As soon as you sat down, you told Sam the good news and quickly ordered a bottle of champagne. You were supposed to get it for them but Bucky told you to sit down and let loose for a while, so you did.

Nat approached the booth with the cold champagne, and some glasses. She bent down and whispered to you, "You better tell me what's going on here. I wanna hear everything."

Sure, she did. Nat always wanted to. When it comes to water cooler gossip or any kind of gossip for that matter, Nat always wanted to dig her nose into other people's stuff. With a wink and a slight sway on the hips, she retreated to the counter and took more of people's orders. Beside her, you noticed Nick steal a glance in your direction but was averted away by people trying to get their drinks.

"Alright, let's toast." Sam declared. Bucky was just finishing filling yours when you focused your attention back at the two gentlemen in front of you. You thanked Bucky and mirrored Sam as he raised his glass. Bucky followed, his eyes with a luster glaze on you. "To new partners, beginnings, and to y/n."

"Thank you, Sam." You laughed, clinking your glasses. "And to Bucky, for trusting me enough to do this."

"To Bucky who wouldn't leave me alone until I said yes." Sam replied, emptying his glass.

You gave Bucky a look and shook your head. Being the cheeky man he was, the ends of his lips curved slightly which triggered the beat of your heart. The sudden changes you have been feeling when it came to Bucky have been scaring you but it wasn't a "bad scary"; it was the kind that excited everything inside you. A thrilling feeling that left you wanting more.

At the taste of the sprinkling cold champagne, for a moment, you were brought back to last night's events. A montage-like of red, blue and white lights illuminating the street, Howard waiting in the limousine, Wandavision, and then Bucky. After that, it was just Bucky's presence beside you and as you looked back at him, all you could think about was his soft warm lips pressed on your forehead. The entirety of it felt like you were living a dream — there were parts you couldn't remember and parts that you could, and the latter were just the ones you kept replaying in mind (even with Bucky in front of you), trying to imbue this dream-like memory and convince yourself that it was a memory.

Nat's voice pulled you out of your thoughts (and boy, were you thankful for it). "Hey, your shift's almost ending." She reminded you, passing by the booth, then turned to face Bucky and Sam. "Anything you want from the menu, boys?"

"No, thank you." Bucky replied then turned to you. "We should also be heading up."

"Oh." Nat's change in voice was so evident that you wanted to pull her out of here as soon as possible. "You guys are heading up, huh?" She teased, her eyes now on you.

"It's not what you think." You said. "He's just looking after me. Parker's gone to some corporate retreat for a week."

"Man, you're a babysitter!" Sam butted in, punching Bucky's arm lightly. "Oh, I can't believe this."

"No, I'm not."

"You can't even take care of your damn self, how are you gonna take care of her?"

"Shut up, Sam!"

"He's actually taking good care of me." You said, looking at Bucky.

"I'm sure he is." Nat chuckled which made you step on her foot. She cleared her throat in response.

"Anyway, I gotta go say goodbye to Steve." You said, standing up. "Hey Nat, do you want me to say hi to him for you?"

With her mouth slightly open, and eyes furrowed, she replied very slowly. "No."

You smirked. "Okay then."

You headed towards Steve's office, leaving Nat stunned in her place. Steve's office was slightly open so you didn't bother knocking and just went inside. "Hey, Steve. I'm off for tonight."

"Sure." He replied. "Hey, about earlier."

"What about it?"

"I'm doing it because I truly believe in you." He smiled. "And your new friend Bucky does so too."

You smiled at him right back. "Yes, Steve. Thank you."

"Take care, y/n."

"You too, boss!"

And with that, you headed towards the booth where Bucky and Sam were.

Out on the side of the street, the three of you parted ways, Sam hailing a cab and you and Bucky heading towards the apartment building. Once the elevator doors opened, you stepped inside and was greeted by its metallic smell.

"Hey, Bucky?" You said, quickly grabbing his attention. "T-thank you for this and for basically everything you've done for me for the past few days."

"Please, you don't have to thank me for this. I'm just really glad I'll be able to help you."

"And I promise once I get my shit done, have money and everything, I'm gonna pay you back — "

"Hey, hey, hey." He cut you off. "Who said anything about paying me back? You don't have to do that, okay?"

"But I feel like this is all too much, like, there's this thing tying me to you."

"Is that a bad thing?" He asked.

"When it comes to money, yeah kinda. And you've bought me all kinds of stuff — "

"Y/n, just..." He sighed. "You don't have to do or say anything. You don't have to worry about paying me back and even if you will, I won't ever ever accept it. Can we leave it at that?"

You sighed in response, the little ding! right on time. "Yeah, okay."

By the time you got in the apartment, you practically ran towards your room because of how exhausted you were but before you could even open the door, there was one more thing you needed to do.

"Bucky?"

“Yes?”

"I-I'm sorry again about last night and no," he was about to do his face whenever he cuts you off, "please, don't cut me off, let me finish."

Bucky walked towards you, his back facing Peter's room.

"This is about what I said... when I asked you to, uh, kiss me. You were right to stop me. I was drunk, sad and vulnerable and the moment wasn't right. It wasn't right. I would have regretted it the next day and would be so ashamed to face you. I might actually avoid you for a month." You sighed. "I'm really sorry you had to see that side of me. A kiss at that moment would be really inappropriate. When we — if we ever do, um, it wouldn't be like that... just like what you said. You said that right? You said, and I quote, not like this. 'Cause I keep hearing your voice saying that in my head." Bucky nodded, affirming it. "Okay. Um, yeah so in conclusion... I am sorry."

He slowly smiled, nodding his head. "You make a lot of speeches."

"Yeah, I'm the queen when it comes to it."

"And apology accepted, of course."

You warmed up with a smile. "Okay, thank you. Good night."

“Good night, doll."

Once you turned around, you felt a strong force on your arm, spinning your body which then collided with Bucky's, together with his lips crashing on yours.

It was like an impulse you couldn't avoid: for you to close your eyes, to move your lips in his rhythm, and to savor his breath. He tasted like cold champagne, and mint, with a hint of coffee. His lips, luscious, warm and soft; you were afraid of tearing them apart with your teeth. He kissed you with all the fervor of a lover. A lover talked about in books, movies, in fairytales.

Bucky's hands found their way around your hips, pulling you closer towards his body, while you rested yours on the sides of his face, pulling every inch of him, craving more of him. Slowly, you opened your eyes and tore your faces only an inch apart, foreheads touching. Lips empty but still hungry. You stayed right where you were; You never dared move an inch and so did he. You were still like statues. The only movement was the rapid rise and fall of your breathing.

Bucky's hands slid from your waist. You felt his fingers on the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing your lower lip and giving it a small, passionate kiss.

"Just like this, doll." He whispered. "Just like this."