#and i feel selfish because. she has a baby. but i have cats and luckily i was able to drop by today to pick up my sleepover kit

[summerlycoris]

Guess whos potentially working a triple tomorrow?????????

Im going to transform into my final form if this shit keeps up i swear to god.

[sapphic-catz]

I don’t want to like hijack @spotty-is-too-sleepy ‘s inbox lol but his TigerJake au has suddenly like captured my mind so um have my own take on it :)

Anyway I see them as like first meeting when both were pretty young cats. Tiger is being treated terribly by his mentor and stuck between becoming the cat Thistleclaw wants him to be and hating himself for being like him. He one night attempts to flee and ends up finding Jake, a cat similar his age that’s just so carefree and happy. From Jake’s view he’s met this like super buff mysterious stranger cat who smells like the forest and is def has the hots for him immediately, while Tiger is a bit drawn back but is also pretty quickly falling for the ginger kitty

(Kinda like canon TallJake except yknow between these two and Jake is made to be the same age as Tiger)!

The two don’t formally put a name on it but Tiger thinks they’re officially together while Jake would more call it talking?

Anyways um ofc Tiger has to go back and he is immediately found by his mentor who is furious. Esp as he can smell the kittypet on his apprentice’s pelt. The two are separated for a long time until Tiger has just gotten his name, Tigerclaw after his own claws (but he kinda has suspicions his mentor orchestrated them to share a suffix)

He goes on a lone night patrol and guess who he meets. Jake. The two are right back to where they first met. Jake is his same silly, lighthearted tease while Tiger is drawn back but loving.

They start right back where they were before.

[read more bc this is so long sorryyyyyy)

After like a few moons of sneaking off to see his boyfriend he finally gets caught, by Thistleclaw none the less. He is forced by his old mentor to break up what he has with Jake and Tiger has to. He feels like he has to. He has been selfish and sneaky, breaking the code to see some pet (these are his thoughts sadly). He goes to Jake and tries to speak first but is stopped by-

Jake saying he’s expecting. Expecting Tigerclaw’s kits.

Tiger is horrified and freaking out bc no no no no no while Jake is just staring at him confused. They love each other right? And now Tiger can come with him and they can raise their family together!

The two break up from the fight. But Jake says very clearly that he is not going to raise these kits. Tiger would have to either change his mind or, take them himself.

Even more panicking as Tiger tries so hard to find a way to somehow convince Jake to keep them or how he could take them. He can’t just waltz in with kits!! But as if a gift from the stars, Goldenflower announces she’s expecting. With no other parent…

He pulls her aside and tells her the situation he’s in hopefully to see if she’d agree and luckily she does. Because she’s in the same one lol (the sire to her litter is a kittypet). The two make the plan for Tiger to sneak his kits in the litter as Golden has hers. They’d be raised by the two and appear as full Thunder kittens. Its announced not only their official partnership as mates but also that Tiger is the dad to her litter. Now he just has to wait.

Eventually the time comes and he disappears to try and find Jake with his kits. He finds them and Jake just coldly shoves the two babies at him. Tiger wishes for the love they used to have but. He can’t amend it now.

He’s carefully making it back when he’s stopped. By Thistleclaw. He should’ve been more careful in his tracks. Thistle screams that he’s not only back with that pet but also now bringing back little pests the clan will have to feed!!! It’s real dramatic and as Tiger tries to bite back, Thistle leaps to grab one of the kits. Without thinking Tiger just smacks him back, claws drawn, all the force he can. Thistle is thrown back but too hard, smashing his head on a rock. Tiger is horrified but he can’t keep his kits outside any longer. He cleans Thistle enough to hide his own scent then finally sneaks them back.

Goldenflower has two kits of her own, Lynxkit and Swiftkit she calls them. She feigns another birth as he shuffles his own in the litter. All together they have Lynxkit, Swiftkit, Ravenkit (Scourge), and Leopardkit (Ruby). Lynx dies sadly a week after but the rest make it through. Ravenkit was named after his dark pelt while Leopardkit was after his mom. (Also is matching. Two cat names with Two bird names)

So!

Ravenkit kinda fills the role of Ravenpaw except they still become Scourge. Opposite of Fire arc as he started as a clan cat that then became a kittypet.

He as a apprentice witnesses the killing of Oakheart and then his siblings (Leopardpaw and Swiftpaw are both killed by the dogs). He learns that it was his own dad who set up the trap and runs away. They end up being taken in by Brick and Bone who run a scrappy group of strays. Once he starts working it they become Bloodclan and they kill Tiger in revenge for his siblings but also as a show of what the clans create, monsters.

Fire though. Rusty is instead the slightly younger half sibling of Raven/Scourge via Jake who had him in a fling. Him along with Princess weren’t cared for the best but he did most love the stories he was told by Jake about the woods. Sorta Cloudtail style, Tigerclaw stumbles into Jake and as a “gift” (more begging to plz plz plz take this kit off my paws I cannot raise him) he’s given to the cat. He’s then trained by Tiger, sees the bad his mentor is, helps then Ravenpaw escape, and eventually becomes the Fire we all know and love :)

He kept his name tho and is called Rustyfire. Doesn’t become leader but Sandstar does! He’s mostly a advisor/dad/deputy. Kinda takes a role of both being the deputy but also a camp caretaker and sometimes a medic since he picked up a lot of herbs

A few more brief notes I’ve had lol

Jake is pretty explicitly a bad dad. He just isn’t a cat who can take care of kits so he’s kinda dumped every litter away. Princess is taken soon after Rusty leaves to live in her own forever home. He loves them but more in a uncle kind of way. Not good for them clearly

Raven/Scourge is really just Scourge except with the arc of Ravenpaw. Their a very cold cat that’s incredibly watchful. It’s said they have eyes on the back of their head (if I drew him I’d draw him as a all black cat with the tiger eye ears thingy)

Goldenflower raised all the kits like her own and was hurt so badly by the death of two of them. Even more when her final baby disappeared. Luckily Fire had enough insight to like pull her aside and tell her what happened. She knows what Tiger’s done and also that her baby raven is safer now.

In the final battle Scourge kills Tiger and instead of the Bloodclan/Tigerclan alliance it was Bloodclan/Lionclan. The ending fight is between the cats still loyal to Tiger and Leopard and the ones against it. Eventually it ends in the death of Leopardstar along with most of her loyal fighters. A lot more death. Mistystar takes power and in Shadowclan Russetstar rises (Blackfoot died in the fight)

Fire and Sand are together but in a platonic way :) they still have Squilf and Leaf

Bramble and Tawny are now one cat called Thornflower who was the actual kit between GoldenTiger. She initially followed his dad but turned against him and joined back. Him and Squilf are never together, older sibling vibes ONLY

Scourge takes Bloodclan back to the town but they keep a close alliance. It soon after is renamed to the Blood Band (yes it is a joke on them being a metal band)

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (ii)

word count: 3.3k

warnings: fem!oc, alcohol consumption, cursing

series masterpost: here

a/n: part two baby! thanks for all the love on part one, it means the absolute world. i have so much love for this story and i hope people are enjoying it :))

Life is settling into a comfortable rhythm.

After spending a good chunk of her young adult life being incredibly studious, Magdalene can finally have the social life of someone in their mid-twenties. Though she’s still spending a fair amount of time by herself in the basements of the University of Denver’s library, Bette convinces her to go out more. Magdalene tries to fight, citing extra work or a good book as an excuse to stay home, but it doesn’t work very often. The pleas of her friend are how Magdalene finds herself currently lounging poolside at Erik Johnson’s house on a Sunday afternoon.

“How’s the new career treating you?” Tyson asks. “I feel like we haven’t seen you in a while.”

Magdalene laughs. “I’ve seen Bette plenty,” she says, “She thinks I won’t take a lunch break unless she shows up.”

“Would you?” the blonde girl questions with a quirked brow.

“Probably not.”

“I rest my case.”

A small crowd gathers around as Magdalene begins to detail the specifics of her job, but she doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as she once would have. In the month or so since graduating school she’s found herself slowly being incorporated into the Avalanche family. It’s almost certainly because Bette and Tyson championed her case, explaining that she doesn’t have much of a support system beyond the two of them, but she doesn’t mind. A few of the guys ask her questions about her work, curious as to why someone would want to spend their life combing through piles of old things. Everyone stays engaged in the conversation until there’s a shout from the kitchen that dinner is ready.

Magdalene shuffles in line behind André, filling her plate with various pasta salads and a hamburger. Once situated with enough food for two meals she returns to the pool deck, sitting on the edge and dipping her toes into the cool water. Bette comes and finds her a minute later and the two of them begin to eat.

She’s still relatively new to the group’s dynamic, but Magdalene can’t help but notice that Ryan is never around. In fact, Magdalene hasn’t seen him since her graduation party. Taking a casual sip of her wine cooler, she asks her friend about the man’s absence.

“Why is Ryan never at these sorts of things?”

Bette shrugs. “Isn’t a huge one for parties. He was supposed to come today, but I guess something came up.”

“I’m not huge on parties,” Magdalene huffs, “But that doesn’t stop you from dragging me to every single one.”

“Unlike you, Gravy gets enough regular social interaction that his absence is permissible. If Tyson and I didn’t take you out you’d talk to your cat more than normal.”

She wants to fight back, but knows it’s pointless. Bette has a point – if it weren’t for her the only people Magdalene would interact with are her boss and her cat. Instead, she grumbles under her breath and changes the subject to the trip Bette is in the middle of planning. It’s coming up in a few weeks, and Magdalene wants to hear a bit more about it before she commits. Despite what she thought about taking time off so close to starting work, it was encouraged by June, but she's refraining from telling Bette that. If it doesn’t sound like she'll enjoy it, Magdalene is banking on being able to use the excuse.

Bette explains that she’s renting a large lake house that is perfect for a relaxing week away from adult responsibilities. The property has kayaks and a hot tub, which pretty much ensures that Magdalene will want to be in attendance. She’ll hold onto that information for a little while longer though, if for no other reason to make Bette squirm a little. At some point Tyson comes to sweep his girlfriend away and leaves Magdalene at the party alone. She makes polite conversation with some other players for a while before heading home herself. Ryan never shows up, despite how much Magdalene hopes he will. At the very least she wants to properly thank him for doing her a favour, though her hoping to see him is much more selfish. He intrigues her and she wants to know more about the tall man with the dazzling smile and a proclivity for wearing all black.

☼☼☼☼

Barn Owl Book Company is filled to the brim when Magdalene approaches the store from the side street it annexes. She should’ve expected it – it’s the first of the month and their newest books are hitting the shelves. However, Magdalene doesn’t exactly have time to wait in line. June gave her only fifteen minutes to run and grab them coffee before they continue the massive task of digitizing a private collection that has just been donated to the university. She estimates it will take almost a month of extended hours to get everything done, and Magdalene believes it. There’s so much to wade through but she knows the end result will be satisfying.

Luckily the café line is fairly short, and Magdalene reaches the counter in a timely manner. “Hey,” she greets the barista warmly, “Could I just grab two medium iced cappuccinos?”

“Anything else?”

“No, that's everything. It’ll be on debit,” she smiles. Magdalene reaches into her backpack to grab her wallet only to find that it’s missing. Shit. The barista has already left to make the drinks, completely unaware that her customer is unable to pay.

Magdalene hears a voice from behind her say, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.” She turns around to find Ryan Graves standing there with a book tucked under his right arm.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she mumbles appreciatively. “I don’t know how my boss would take it if I showed up empty handed.”

Ryan laughs shyly as he pulls his card away from the machine. “I get it, everyone needs a little caffeine this time of year.” The barista comes back with Magdalene’s drinks, which she takes with a smile and a wish for a good day. The two of them head towards the exit, and Ryan pauses once they’re on the sidewalk. “Which way are you headed?”

“Back to work,” Magdalene says, nodding her head in the direction of campus. “I’ve got approximately five minutes to get there before June rips me a new one.”

“June?”

“She’s my boss,” she explains.

Ryan nods in understanding. “I’ll see you around Magdalene,” he smiles, turning on his heel and heading the opposite direction.

In a moment of bravery, Magdalene yells at his retreating figure. “Will you? We never seem to cross paths.”

“I’ll be at Bette and Tyson’s this weekend, and I’m counting on your company.”

Magdalene finds it incredibly hard to focus the rest of the afternoon. She keeps thinking about what Ryan said, which makes her a rather lousy archivist. June sends her home just after seven even though they had plans to stay until ten, citing the fact that she’s scanned the same photo three times before noticing. Caligula’s meowing for pets when she gets home isn’t even enough to distract her from the comment. The absentmindedness continues for another day or so, and it’s becoming so bad Magdalene is worried that June is going to fire her for incompetence.

It’s only when Bette calls to invite her over for dinner and drinks that her mind levels out. “I was wondering when I was going to get the call,” she chuckles absentmindedly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” is the response Magdalene receives.

“Well,” she explains, “I ran into Ryan at Barn Owl the other day and he paid for my drinks because I left my wallet on the table at work, and he said he expected to see me at your place this weekend. So if you never invited me I was just going to show up.”

Bette is smiling, that much Magdalene can infer by the lull in conversation. “I haven’t got the time to call you yet,” she concedes, “But consider this the official invitation to our house for a small party.”

“Anything we’re celebrating?”

“Nope. Have you ever needed a reason to party?”

Magdalene laughs. “Yes. Need one almost every time actually.”

The rest of the week passes fairly quickly. To make up for her blundering earlier in the week Magdalene offers to work a full day on Saturday, by herself, to get the project back on track. June accepts the proposition eagerly, and Magdalene lets Bette know she’ll be coming directly from work. Saturday rolls around and she spends most of her time getting lost in the past lives of the artefacts she’s dealing with. If someone were to ask Magdalene what her favourite part of archiving is, that’s the answer she’d give. There’s nothing more satisfying to her than holding a piece of history in her hands and imagining all the stories it would be able to tell if it could speak.

By the time she’s put in a full work day and finishes locking up the basement floor her department occupies, Magdalene is pretty sure they’re ahead of schedule on the project. She genuinely feels terrible about her misperformance and hopes June will be able to forgive her. On the way to Bette and Tyson’s Magdalene listens to the Leonard Cohen greatest hits cd that came with her car. The previous owner was presumably a big fan, and over the years Magdalene has come to appreciate the folk singer. She never got to see him in concert before his death but turns to his music when she needs to relax. Right now is the perfect time to listen to ‘Hallelujah’ on repeat because she’s seriously freaking out about the idea of spending the night talking to Ryan. Though she still wants to properly thank him and possibly become friends, something about him makes Magdalene nervous.

There’s no way for her to tell if Ryan is there when she parks in front of the house. She doesn’t know what kind of car he drives, or if he caught a ride with someone. Magdalene debates texting Bette to see if he’s there already but decides against it, knowing she’s an adult who is more than capable of pushing down nerves.

She doesn’t bother knocking and just steps into the respectably sized home. The music is loud enough that no one would have heard her anyways. It’s much more of a party than Magdalene was expecting – Bette invited her for dinner and drinks, not a gathering that could pass as a frat party. There are bodies everywhere, and she isn’t sure if she’ll ever catch a glimpse of her friend.

“You seem to be dressed for the wrong kind of party,” a voice chuckles from behind her.

Magdalene turns to see Ryan leaning against the wall, eyeing her business casual attire. “I came from work,” she explains, “And didn’t know it was this kind of party to begin with. I would’ve at least brought a change of clothes.”

“You look terribly out of place,” he agrees. “Can I grab you a drink? The hosts are too busy playing beer pong to, you know, be hosts.”

A giggle escapes Magdalene’s lips at the comment. Ryan seems to have a similar sense of humor to her, which will be beneficial for passing the time if Bette is already on her way to being wasted. “A glass of red wine would be nice.”

Ryan pushes off from his perch and heads towards the kitchen. The crowd parts for the six-foot-five hockey player, and Magdalene follows in his wake quite easily. Knowing the space as well as her, Ryan grabs a wine glass from the cupboard Bette keeps them in and pours the dark red liquid into it. He waits until Magdalene has situated herself on the island before handing her the cup. She takes it with an appreciative hum and waits until he’s grabbed a beer for himself before raising her glass in toast. Ryan does the same, and their glasses clink before each of them take a sip.

“What exactly is it that you do? I bet it’s something super cool and studious, but I seriously don’t know what the hell being an archivist means.”

Magdalene explains her job to Ryan, who is extremely interested. He asks nearly a hundred follow-up questions that she answers sincerely, throwing in a few jokes that luckily crack him up. Conversation moves to his career and then life. Magdalene learns that he’s from Nova Scotia, though he stays around Denver these days, and that if he wasn’t playing professional hockey he’d like to have a career in publishing. Ryan doesn’t press too hard when Magdalene refuses to open up about her family, which she appreciates. It’s a delicate subject that she keeps guarded close to her chest, and a friend’s kitchen in the middle of a party isn’t the place for her to divulge her deepest secrets.

The two of them get refills before exiting the room. Even more people seemed to arrive since Magdalene walked through the door, and the kitchen is no longer an empty safe haven. The music is so loud she can feel the bass thumping in her chest, giving the living room a club-like atmosphere, and it’s too much. Magdalene tugs at the hem of Ryan’s sweater to catch his attention. “Want to go somewhere quiet?”

“I doubt there is such a place,” he yells over the crowd going crazy over some early 2000s hip-hop track.

“Follow me,” she says with a smile, pointing over her shoulder in the direction of the staircase to the second floor.

It takes a minute for them to wade through the throngs of people, but it goes much faster once Ryan takes Magdalene’s hand and splits the crowd. A few boys, who don’t look older than twenty-one and almost certainly snuck into the party, notice where the pair are going and shout congratulations. Ryan shoots them a glare so sharp it could cut stone but doesn’t drop Magdalene’s hand. Once safely on the much quieter second floor, Magdalene makes a beeline for the bathroom.

“Are you coming or what?” she asks when there doesn’t seem to be footsteps following her.

Ryan hesitates. “I, uh, can just wait out here while you’re in there,” he stammers.

Magdalene’s laugh rings out through the empty hallway. “I’m not going to the bathroom. We’re going out the window.”

He isn’t sure how that’s any better, but Ryan follows the brown-haired girl into the room. It takes considerably more work for him to fit through the frame, but after some directions from Magdalene he makes it onto the roof. She sits down and pats the space beside her, encouraging Ryan to do the same. They stay out there, discussing anything that comes to their heads, until the party’s numbers dwindle drastically. Magdalene makes sure to properly thank him for both attending her graduation and spotting her coffee money, and she thinks Ryan might blush a little when she offers to get the next round. He asks about her love of The West Wing, and they launch into a long conversation about the show and cast. The sun fades to black and the cold sets in, and Magdalene finds herself wrapped in Ryan’s sweater without asking. It’s only when she notices it’s approaching midnight that Magdalene clues into how tired she is.

“I think I’m going to head out,” she yawns. Ryan nods in agreement and holds the window open for her to slip in through. Once downstairs, Magdalene goes to lift the sweater from her frame but Ryan stops her.

“Keep it for drive home. I’ll get it back next time we see each other.”

Still feeling bold from the alcohol that left her system hours ago, she reaches out to poke him in the chest. “And when will that be, hm? You seem to enjoy leaving our meetings up to chance.”

It’s Ryan’s turn to laugh. “Think you can swing an extended lunch break on Wednesday? I’ll be at Barn Owl all afternoon. Maybe you can join me for a coffee.”

Magdalene likes the sound of that and agrees. She leaves without seeing Bette or Tyson once, but she doesn’t mind. They’d be happy for her blooming friendship – or at least she’s pretty sure they will be once she calls to fill them in on the details.

☼☼☼☼

Wednesday rolls around without incident, and Magdalene is given a full hour to eat instead of thirty minutes. Walking time has to be accounted for, of course, but she should have nearly forty-five minutes to spend with Ryan if she plays her cards right. There’s no crowd this time, and it’s incredibly easy to spot Ryan sitting in the window she loves to claim as her own.

“Hey,” Magdalene greets, “Did Bette tell you to sit here?”

He shakes his head, perplexed at the question. “No, why?”

“It’s just my favourite seat in the store, that’s all. I thought she told you how to gain some extra brownie points.”

“Should I be concerned about the amount of points I have?” Ryan teases, sliding a cup and pastry bag across the table and into her hands.

Magdalene shakes her head, smiling widely. “You’re doing alright so far. Keep up the good work.”

They eat at a comfortable pace, taking breaks to engage in interesting topics of conversation or take sips of their drinks. Ryan insists his life is boring, but Magdalene is enthralled by the stories he tells. It’s completely different from hers and she feels as though she can live vicariously through the tales of walking through the historic downs of the east coast and swimming in the Pacific Ocean on days off in California. After squeezing every story possible from the man Magdalene shifts gears slightly.

“So, are you going on the trip in a couple of weeks?”

“It’s looking that way,” Ryan shrugs with relative indifference, “Nate doesn’t think he’ll be able to come back, something about a development camp he’s running having the dates switched. He’s asked me to take his spot.”

His neutral mood confuses her. When Bette mentioned his probable attendance months ago, it sounded like he was enthusiastic about spending a week with friends doing nothing to swimming and drinking. “You don’t want to go?” Magdalene probes.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, but sometimes the group parties a little harder than I like to,” he sighs, raising a hand and running it through his hair. That’s something she understands completely, having spent a few too many nights being the sober one out.

“I’ll be there.” It’s Magdalene’s turn to shrug, but the comment holds an incredible amount of hope.

“Well then, that changes everything.”

Was Ryan flirting with her? She spends the rest of lunch thinking about the possibility, and truthfully, it occupies her brain for the rest of the day. However, she keeps her focus and June is none the wiser to the butterflies in her stomach. Work finishes without much fanfare, and her dinner is silent save for the few meows of conversation Caligula offers. It’s late by the time Magdalene falls into bed, cat snuggled into the pillow beside her. On a whim she decides to check Instagram and sees a message request from none other than the man who’s smile has been replaying in her mind. A follow request accompanies it.

Thought that maybe we could quit leaving our meetings to chance and plan something next time :)

He has to be flirting. There’s no other explanation for the witty banter they’ve shared this week, or why he’s reaching out to her on social media. The butterflies in her stomach multiply tenfold as Magdalene types out a reply.

I don’t know, it’s kind of fun being shrouded in mystery. However, I now have the opportunity to stalk your profile ;)

Before she can overthink her use of the emoji, Magdalene shoves her phone in the drawer of her nightstand and rolls over. A slight smile can’t help but appear on her features as she falls asleep, already curious about what his reply will be.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds (add yourself to the taglist!)

[kominum]

semoto (corpse x fem!reader)

4 times you think tuxedo mask!corpse could be yours + 1 time you learn to stop feeding your own delusions 

pt. 1 + background info can be found here! please read for context. 

basic rundown of classic!sailor moon (anime) lore ‘creatively’ used in this two-part:

sailor moon and tuxedo mask are star-crossed lovers/soulmates that faced tragedy in a previous life. 

sailor mars (aka you/reader) had a crush on tuxedo mask’s non-hero persona, darien/mamoru, for a while 

sailor moon is the moon princess and tuxedo mask is the earth prince.  

sailor moon’s non-hero persona, usagi/serena, bickered a lot with darien/mamoru.

fem!reader // tw: death mentions, bodily injury, unrequited love to the very end, some unresolved tension. 

1. “Whaddup, baby?” 

Without much reason, you and Corpse trade off calling each other whenever a new monster is defeated. You’re figuring out all of this as much as he is, but he doesn’t have much guidance besides some supernatural force within him. He’s not taking instructions from a black cat and white cat like you and the other girls are who can help fill you in on the gaps -- all he knows is that he’s pivotal to maintaining Earth’s existence, and he’s not exactly thrilled about it.

But the calls are never about the fights, never about your secret identities. In fact, you’d be willing to bet half your grocery funds that he still hasn’t made the connection between you and your Sailor Mars persona and part of you wants to keep it that way. Sometimes you’re mentally exhausted and just want to forget about the events for the day or night, which is why you usually end up calling him soon after everyone disperses or vice versa. It’s almost instinctual these days, and you wonder how long it’ll be before you accidentally crack. 

Right now, the rule of thumb seems to be, “Never trust new flashy shops that open with no warning and have too-good-to-be-true grand opening offers.” This time, some luxurious salon opened up by a famous local hairdresser had been the said attraction. All of you weren’t ignorant enough to believe the sham, but the star of the show had taken the chance to say, “Let’s go scope it out!” when really, she wanted that free haircut. You had called her out on it, but she argued that if anything happened, then perfect, you all could take care of it right then and there. Needless to say, you do not want to be attacked by a monstrous version of Edward Scissorhands ever again. Corpse had made a dark, humorous entrance, a style he’s really adapted to because he knows it pisses Sailor Moon off, 

About an hour later, you’re home and bandaging up some cuts and rubbing salve on bruises, phone on speaker and dial tone blaring through the bathroom. You’re addressing the scrape on your knee when he picks up, a low drawl of, “Whaddup, baby?” comes through and your heart stutters.

The girls call you a number of terms of endearment: sweetie, honey, love, dear, babe, queen, but the last person to address you as ‘baby’ with any amount of affection was your ex-boyfriend.

You scoff to hide how flustered you actually are, quietly hissing as you attempt to put some Neosporin on the scrape and catch onto some stray skin. “Are you drunk?” You ask jokingly, knowing full well he wasn’t. 

“Drunk? Nah. Tired? Yeah. But that’s always.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s old news. But uh, what’s up? Been a while since we last talked.”

“We talked like...three days ago. You called me, remember?”

“Feels like forever. I like talking to you.” 

You wonder if it’s irony or plain, cruel fate that this man will probably be the death of you.

2. “Don’t lay a fucking hand on her.”

It’d been a bad day overall. Lack of sleep compiled on by a growing pile of assignments in addition to having to get your tires checked out for an air leak because your car said, “Not today, honey,” -- everything came together in torrential hurricane and the last thing you needed was to be caught fighting another force of evil.

You’re so tired.

Sailor Moon seems to have all the energy in the world as she dodges attacks left and right, but your muscles are screaming in agony. You’re constantly hunched over and panting, but looking for the right openings to weaken the monster. Luckily, the creature has its back towards you when it dashes over to Venus and you muster everything you have to summon a bow and arrow made of fire, pulling back and making sure your arms don’t quiver. 

But at the last second, your lack of oxygen gets the best of you and your flame sniper barely manages to graze the monster’s side and narrowly avoid Jupiter. It’s enough to cause a distraction, but the anger in its glare as it’s directed at you elicits surrender in your heart. There’s nothing left in your bones to help you run or hide, and your knees buckle painfully onto the concrete. Everything else hurts so bad that you’re not bothered by the sediments digging through your skin. Venus is running towards you but she’s not quick enough, and you feel your eyes begin to slip. If this is what death feels like, then so be it. You hope that the girls’ mourning will be short, that they can still complete the ultimate mission, and--

“Don’t lay a fucking hand on her,” an angered, frustrated baritone spits out and you’re torn between laughing or crying. In a separate romantic context, you’d like the idea of wholeheartedly leaving your life in his hands. But in this reality when either of you could die at any moment and the world be consumed in darkness, it’s something you would never wish upon anyone. It’s a different situation than your bonds with the girls. 

The pain is enough to send you in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes. But strong, warm arms sit you up, though they’re slightly trembling and keeping you awake. “Hey, you okay? What happened to you? You’re stronger than this.” 

“G-great way of telling me, fuckthathurts, that I was...shit today,” you joke, but hiss when you try to move your legs and the deep scrapes scream in agony. 

“Take it easy, ‘kay? Or your princess is gonna have my head--”

“Thanks man, but we got it from here,” said princess interjects, hoisting you up with the help of the other girls. “You can go.”

“Speak of the devil,” Corpse chuckles and helps make the transfer less painful, a lot less awkward jostling around. “Look, I saved her--”

“And I said thank you. We’ll see you around,” your stubborn friend dismisses. 

“You’re welcome, baby.”

“Not your baby, piss off!”

3. “I’m always gonna be there for you, no matter what.”

It’s soft yet sonorous, deep yet light. Twilight hours are cast high above you both, separated by walls and buildings connected over wires and unseen forces. Technology is the sharpest, double-edged sword you’ve seen and used on this planet, because Corpse has never felt so close yet so far than in this moment. Your mind deludes you further by indulging in believing he’s right there next to you, strong arms holding you much like he did when you were on the brink of unconsciousness just two weeks ago.

Wishing, hoping, wanting. Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous.

The one year anniversary of your ex-lover’s death looms over you on another sleepless, caffeine-fueled night. It’s no surprise when his custom ringtone chimes softly throughout your room during these graveyard hours, but it certainly raises your eyebrows when after a minute or two, he asks tentatively, “Are you gonna go visit him?”

There’s no question as to who or where “him” is. You haven’t been since the funeral, if you’re honest, swept up by work, classes, and your new side job. But Corpse doesn’t know that, and you know it’d be the right thing to do. Maybe it’d help settle the storm of anxiety (or guilt?) that swirls in your gut on a daily basis. 

“I think so,” you reply quietly after a moment of silent contemplation, already thinking ahead to what the drive might be like. “He deserves better.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Charming, compassionate, thoughtful, absolutely too good for this world -- the three-letter affirmation nearly slips off your tongue without a second thought. You can’t risk him seeing you, putting two and two together, and potentially forever losing him to his long-lost princess. Selfish delusion creeps through your veins and you fight back the shiver of guilt that runs down your spine. 

“I think I’ll be okay. Might be a visit made best alone, but I really appreciate you even asking.”

“Let me know if you change your mind. You know I’m always gonna be there for you, no matter what. Right?”

Warmth. Strength. Oblivion. 

“I know. Thank you.”

4. “I don’t have anyone else but you.”

“Why are we doing this again?”

“Because we can’t sleep and have nothing better to do.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you chuckle into your phone, free hand swirling a pot of instant ramen. “I have better things to do at 3 in the morning than watch The Poltergeist with you.” 

“Then go fucking do it,” Corpse laughs teasingly. 

“And leave you high and dry? I don’t have the heart.”

“I mean, you really don’t have to--”

“Seriously, I was awake anyways. Just giving you shit.”

“One of these days, you’re gonna fucking regret it.”

Ramen done and lamp on, you snuggle beneath your blanket and start the traditional countdown to pressing ‘play’ on the movie. Neither of you really had the technology to screen share on this Discord call (your laptop is almost on its last leg and your apartment WiFi can be spotty at times), so it seemed better this way. 

The next roughly 2 hours are filled with laughter, small jump scare yelps, and quiet yelling at the ignorance and twisted logic of horror movie characters. But towards the end of the movie (and arguably the climax), your eyelids start to droop, body succumbing to the warmth of your bed. The screaming and cheesy, orchestrated music are all background noise as your breathing evens out, shifting in and out of consciousness. Ending credits roll on screen before you know it, and the only think that rips you awake is Corpse’s gentle calling of your name. 

“Sorry, fell asleep,” you murmur tiredly and squint at your screen, languidly closing out the window and letting the Discord window take precedence. “Tells you how riveting I found this movie.”

“Should’ve just let you sleep, my bad,” he chuckles. “Thanks for staying up with me.” 

“Yeah of course -- I wanted to, just got a little sleepy. Wanna watch another one?”

“ ‘m actually gonna try to sleep. Don’t wanna bother you too much. You got work tomorrow?”

“Not ‘til noon so it’s okay. You sure?” 

“Yeah...yeah. I’ve only had like...3 hours of sleep lately. Fucking awful.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You do enough by just letting me call at the fucking crack of dawn, seriously.”

“I’m your only option, let’s be real,” and your voice is a mix of fatigue, humor, and some bitter sardonicism. There’s no malice intended, and you really hope it’s conveyed accurately. 

“...I don’t have anyone else but you,” he all but murmurs. Your heart clenches painfully, anxiety and fear and love surging through your lungs. Those words don’t hold the connotation you desperately wish for, but what matters most is that he knows he’s not alone and you’re not the only one he’s got. You verbalize as such and he only hums back in a façade of agreement before wishing you a good night. 

And sometimes, while you do know that your girls have your back and that you love them to death and would take a bullet for them any day, there are nights where you really do feel the same.

That you have no one else but Corpse. 

5. “He was never yours.”

There’s nothing you hate more than psychological monsters. You’d probably take physical pain over mind games any day because at least, it’d heal faster to some degree, or there would be a more surefire way of minimizing symptoms. But sometimes, there are days when the egotistical chess players of hell come to wreck havoc on the world, and you get lost in their trap. It’s annoying, a pain in the ass, and affects you a lot more than it should at times. 

This particular instance makes you want to quit. It makes you, Sailor fucking Mars, guardian of the planet of fire and passion and perseverance, leave all of this behind right here and now. You’ve never hated yourself more for feeling so weak. 

You’re not sure what to call it -- altered dimension, distorted reality -- but all you know is that you and the princess are kept in separate cages hanging from an endless ceiling, labelled as baits for tuxedo mask/Corpse to come. The enemy lets you both stew in the confines of the metal, watching with glee as your partner attempts to cut through the rails with her tiara and ultimately fail. It seems they’ve thought of everything because you’re not their #1 enemy today. Or maybe you are. You’re not sure anymore, even as they launch into villainous speech. 

“Nothing brings me more joy than watching you lose all your energy to fight, both physically and mentally. I’ve seen all your dreams and wishes. Nothing’s more fickle and double-edged than love, no? We shall see who the prince really belongs to.”

Mention of the prince has you snapping your head to meet the enemy’s eyes, slowing squinting as they catch yours and begin cackling like your demise is racing at the speed of an oncoming train. Your princess looks confused, but dread is heavy mercury filling your veins because you know, you know, your best held secret is coming to fruition. 

“What the fuck are they talking about?” She hisses across the void. 

“I don’t know,” you lie through your teeth, eyes flicking toward every corner of the cage now to find a way out. This isn’t how you wanted it to happen, much less happen at all. 

“Are they talking about Corpse?”

“Is there any other prince they’re referring to?”

“Do you always have to be a smartass with me?”

“Somebody’s got to,” you allow yourself a slight reprieve of laughter. It’d be dumb to try to set fire to this thing, knowing you’d only burn yourself in the process. Your exorcism tags also have no use and you can hear the clock ticking down in your mind. 

“Think it’s pretty fucking rude to keep a couple of girls in cages, not gonna lie,” a baritone voice cuts through. It sends temporary sparks of relieve down your spine. Perhaps you’ll have a fighting chance to get out of here. 

“Welcome, welcome! I’d like to get straight to the point, but maybe we’ll up the stakes a little bit before you answer my question,” they tease cartoonishly and you want to roll your eyes.

“Is this a fucking test--”

Both you and sailor moon yelp as the cages drop into a miraculously (or not) appearing large body of water, but still hanging just above the surface so you have enough air to breathe. You look out and down to see how deep this pit is, and though it might be some elaborate illusion seemingly defying all laws of physics, you see nothing but descending darkness. You don’t even have to hear the question to know what the enemy is going for, to know that they’re trying to hit you where it hurts the most, and you loathe how cliché and goddamn unfair this whole situation has turned out to be. 

“So, dear prince. Pretend that the fate of the world depends on the princess. Before you are just two girls you know and care for, stuck, captured, and on the brink of drowning. You may only save one. Who would it be?”

It’s fucked up. Corpse seems stunned, perplexed by the question. “What the absolute fuck is this? Just let them go if you had an issue with me.”

“Quite frankly, I have an issue with allof you, so this is only fair. Now, what’s your answer?”

Corpse catches your eyes first. Is it from the water that your eyes seem to be brimming with unshed tears? Is it stubbornness or defeat in the way your hands clench around the cage bars?

And this is why, once again, you hate enemies who strictly play mind games. Confirmation that Corpse would never love you the way you do him, knowledge to the princess that she’s the source of your deepest unhappiness despite the bickering friendship, realization to Corpse that the girl he’s treasured so dearly and maybe unknowingly kept as a bit of a placeholder was doomed to love him -- pain on all of you, lashes and scars on what was once believed to be unbreakable bonds, as soon as the villain explains it all with sick glee. 

“Do I have to give you an answer?”

“If you don’t, I’ll really consider drowning them since I honestly wasn’t before.”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“Ah, just to make things a little more interesting -- I’m aware you and the princess speak regularly outside of all this.”

They what? This was certainly news to you. 

“And?” Corpse asks somewhat defensively. 

Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. Please don’t--

“Say Mars, don’t you enjoy those late night calls with him, too? Though I must say, meeting in a hospital while your ex-boyfriend is having life-altering emergency surgery seems rather morbid in its own respect.”

You don’t have to look at him to know and hear the gears turning in his brain, the villain allowing this brief silence to let everything sink in. There’s a disbelieving whisper of your name, your real name, but he’s cut off from saying anything more. 

“You have 10 seconds.” 

You know the stories. You know the couple’s tragic end in their previous lifetime. You know that as much as the princess denies feeling anything but annoyance towards Corpse, she looks forward to seeing him. There’s a certain softness that he treats her with, different from the platonic affection that he showers you in. You’ve lied to yourself for too long. 

The countdown has no chance to finish when Corpse spits out a name that’s not yours, your eyes squeezing shut to fight back the tears that threaten to flood over. Everything disappears and you land on your butt -- a quick sweep of your surroundings registers two things: Corpse running over to your princess and the villain standing proudly at the chaos they’ve created. It’s instinct that has brings your powers to surface, arms and fingers quickly notching a fiery arrow with pinpoint aim at the imaginary target on their head. “Move!” You yell at the two and they scramble to gather their bearings and avoid your rage. 

They don’t run or cower. The maniacal grin only grows wider and more sinister and you’re this close to screaming expletives. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it, to know that he was never yours?”

It’s the last thing they say before you release the arrow, watching with no remorse as they burn and disintegrate. When the dust disappears and the dimension shifts back to some abandoned building with an exit, you run. 

You run until your lungs burst, until they scream over the aching of your heart, until your costume dissolves and you’re finally buried under the blankets. You turn on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and only allow notifications from a select few important numbers.

And maybe you’ll keep running. Maybe you’ll go off the grid. Maybe you’ll let your voicemail inbox fill up with unheard messages, apologies that you don’t and never will deserve. 

But the love you feel and cherish will never fade. It’ll run alongside you; a bright, burning star, forever bittersweet--

Forever out of reach. 

[hezuart]

Evan Magne add. Info

Hey ya’ll! @blueraggdollcat asked me for more info on Evan and his relationships with others, so I thought I’d post my answers publicly for those who are interested!

~

Vaggie acts like a second sister / borderline mother to him at times. They're very fond of each other, Evan is glad Charlie found someone that makes her happy, unlike her ex boyfriend Seviathan

Evan used to get really dirty and laugh at Niffty's ferocious cleaning as a child, but as he aged he began to clean up after himself and make sure he's well dressed and making as less of a mess as possible which gives Niffty so much relief. Niffty also finds him really cute, totally got the face of a boyband mascot. He’s flattered, but won’t be joining a band any time soon lol. (Niffty also sorta turned him into a clean freak like herself...) 

Husker likes Evan. He used to give him milk and leave him in charge of the bar as a baby. As he aged, Husk now serves him alcohol when he requests it and has utmost trust in him. The two have a lot of friendly conversation on warm evening nights after a long, tiresome day

Angel and Evan are best bros. Evan is sort of gender-fluid when it comes to clothing like his sister. Angel is his opportunity to explore femininity and just have a chaotic teenage life he otherwise wouldn't be allowed to have as the Prince of Hell. The two gossip and Evan attends many of Angel's shows. He always gets free tickets

Evan is fascinated with Sir Pentious' tech. As a baby, he would mess around with all the machines which would drive Pentious nuts. All the egg bois LOVED having Evan around, just cooing at them. Sir Pentious was hinted at having a son, so even though he acts annoyed at Evan at first, he quickly comes to cherish the kid and have very awkward dad-humor or forced bonding time with him. As Evan grows, Sir Pentious feels the hollow place in his heart fill up a little, remembering fatherhood and slowly understanding children / the youth a bit more. Sir Pentious is the awkward uncle to Evan. They like eachother despite the awkwardness. 

Any friend of Angel's is a friend of hers. Cherri Bomb likes Evan, but he can't exactly say the same about her. Her spunky style and need to explode things unnerve him a bit. He gets along with her, but she tests his patience and makes him very upset / nervous, just tossing bombs and exploding things left and right. He’d probably snap, yell himself hoarse at her as she laughs and teases him. He comes home, his hair a mess, his eyes wide with bags under them, and his pristine clothing covered in soot. It's not a happy sight... 

Evan's relationship with "Baxter" would be somewhat similar to Sir Pentious. WHile Evan is fascinated with technology, its not exactly his cup of tea. He likes to hear about it, but he would never actively participate. He sees Baxter as a type of brother to him, one that locks himself away in his room and only comes out if he needs something. They respect eachother's spaces and the two have a silent agreement about it.

Also, I forgot Alastor- Alastor has always been like an Uncle to Evan. He's the reason Evan is always smiling. He learned manipulation tactics and even has a great love for swing music all because of Alastor's influence. Alastor also loves to see him and Charlie. He almost thinks of the two as his own. Because the two are always smiling, they have a silent understanding that... things can be very fake. that there are many insecurities beneath, waiting to crawl their way out of their throats. It's hard work, always having to put up a front and be cruel. So being at the hotel is such a relief to them. Being around eachother... they let their smiles calm a bit. They for once smile genuinely, just being around eachother.

~~

Away from his friends and the Hotel, when it comes to the Overlords, he acts much like his father or mother would. He is cold, calculating, and confident. Even as a baby, he knew better than to act up in front of them. He always needed to keep up appearances for the sake of his family name and reputation.

He'd even threaten some of the Overlords with war if they ever crossed the line, and he damn well means it. Luckily it rarely ever comes to that. Lucifer is proud his son is such a well-composed demon like himself. But Evan doesn't like the favoritism. Lucifer should love Charlie too, but he doesn't, and for that, Evan holds a secret grudge against his father for it.

When it comes to the Helluva Boss characters...

Stolas is someone Evan would be fond of. Stolas is no doubt an evil overlord, but he has a daughter, and can actually be quite sweet to those in his immediate circle. Stolas thinks Evan is the spitting image of his parents and compliments his stature and confidence. He has utmost respect for Evan and surprisingly likes Charlie quite a bit too. "I have a daughter myself, you see. They can be quite a handful, but you can't help but love them all the same." Evan has great respect for Stolas despite his wealth and questionable business practices. Sometimes they bump into eachother during outings or at weird theme parks. They're always happy to exchange "hellos"!

I don't see Evan really meeting or interacting with many of the IMP characters, however..

It's very likely that Evan would bump into Blitzo and Stolas on an outing. Evan isn't exactly clear whether Stolas has a wife or not despite having a daughter, and innocently asks one day "Is this your boyfriend?" To which the two sputter embarrassed and exasperated. Firm denial, teasing confirmation, some bickering later... Evan just watches the two and somehow gets the gist that they'e good friends. Blitzo is quite comical, and his energy comes across as a theater kid, much like his sister. Evan wouldn't interact a whole lot with Blitzo, they'd never be more than acquaintances, but he thinks its cute Stolas can have such a goofy little friend.

Evan wouldn't interact with Loona at all. They'd both just.. sit there, typing away at their phones with boredom. They're both ... for some weird reason... irritated at eachother's presence. But as long as the other keeps their mouth shut and eyes trained on their phone, the cold war between them will remain just that: cold. (Evan might be a little more of a cat person than a dog person....) 

Evan would think Millie is a sweet little thing. Quite surprised she could be such a murder machine. He would compliment Moxxie's music, thinking their relationship is shockingly the most healthy in all of hell. I don't think they'd have much interaction beyond that.

Annndddd something else about Evan: a good portion of his personality is on lockdown. He acts all smiley, friendly, chivalrous, and dainty. Always striving for perfection in both his posture and personality. Of course, when in front of powerful demons he also has to act like a force to be reckoned with. While he does get his escape with the staff at the hotel, the pressure of being the prince of hell gets to him. He sometimes gets so exhausted and stressed. He might accidentally lash out at others because of it, especially his sister, who he is the most comfortable letting his guard down. The two rarely, but sometimes curl up, just holding one another as they cry.

Evan's relationship with his sister may seem perfect, but they do bicker sometimes. They do disagree sometimes. Evan doesn't always like his sister's childish attitude in certain situations, and Charlie doesn't like Evan's mightier-than-thou attitude either. But they are still very good to eachother. Its sorta just.. them against the world. They were born in hell. Evan has accepted the fact that he's a demon, but he knows his sister is different. He knows she doesn't belong here. That makes him sad. It shows his bad side a little. He almost wants to force Charlie to stay, stay in Hell with him. So she can't leave.... leave him there alone. Go somewhere else... somewhere better. It's a struggle. He feels slight guilt over it, but his obsession only drives forth his determination more. He wouldn't sabotage the hotel, but he would be damned if he ever let Charlie leave. I doubt Charlie would want to leave him, but Evan knows there are nights that Charlie wants to abandon it all from the stress. He knows she's the one who actually wants to go to heaven. It's the place she deserves to be. But ...

"Oh sister mine... please allow me a little selfishness. You don't belong here, I know. But I can't ever .... bare to let you leave.... "

[eerythingisshaka]

#Fictober Day 17

“I’ll tell you but you aren’t going to like it.”

(T’Challa x Nakia)

Word Count: 1.3k

“T’Challa!  Please tell me you found it!  Shhh, shhh, it’s ok, love.  Please stop crying.  T’CHALLA!”

Nakia bellows from their bedroom at 2 am.  Their infant, Orisa was giving them hell on wheels, keeping them up all night with her crying.

T’Challa looks through couch and under the couch trying to find their baby’s prized plushie that she has grown attached to.   “I am looking for it still, Nakia.  Are you sure she isn’t hungry?”  

Nakia switches the baby to a her other shoulder, bouncing and pacing.  “I fed her 30 minutes ago, she almost dried me up she feasted so.”

Orisa’s foghorn scream could be heard throughout the palace.  She had strong lungs ever since she left Nakia’s womb, and she was giving herself a workout tonight.

Nakia sits down in a rocking chair, growing more tired by the minute.  Orisa fought the sleep schedule they tried to set for her, hence why she is even still up at such an ungodly hour.  But Nakia was stretching herself thin between motherhood, wife/queen duties, and trying to get back into shape as a War Dog.

T’Challa jogs back into their bedroom.  “Maybe we should call my-”

Nakia snaps her fingers at T’Challa.  “Do NOT call Queen Mother!   We are Orisa’s parents, we can get her to rest on our own.  Someone ought to be asleep around here.”

T’Challa walks in taking his daughter from her hands, shushing and bouncing her some more.  “I will put her in her crib for now and keep looking.  You lay down.”

Nakia holds her face in frustration.  “I just don’t understand.  How can a 6 month old love something so fiercely that they notice when it is gone?  Am I not enough for you, sweet daughter?”  Nakia asks of Orisa, who pays her no mind as tears stream down her cheeks, gasping for air between cries.

T’Challa kisses Nakia on top of her head.  “I’m serious.  Go to bed.  I can handle our girl, you need your rest.”

Nakia pouts as she walks over to the bed.  “I just don’t get it.  Why am I not getting this motherhood thing down yet.  When does it get easier?”

T’Challa clicks his tongue at her.  “Please, I’ve never known you to sound naive, Nakia.  None of this is easy, my mother would adopt Orisa in a second if she could, but she can’t, can she?”  T’Challa baby talks Orisa through her wails.

Nakia lays down in a funk.  “You know how I am, T’Challa.  I am a fixer, I get things done.  I don’t know what to do for her.”

T’Challa looks back to Nakia once more.  “Just being her mother is enough.  You are there for her every second of every day, do not take this tantrum personally.  Once we have her toy, she will be fine.  Lay down, I’ll turn the sound proof mode on.”

As T’Challa walks out the bedroom, he hits his kimoyo beads to activate the soundproof walls of the bedroom.  They used to have a different purpose but as new parents, that is rarely needed as of late.

T’Challa walks down the stairs to call up Shuri, who picks up promptly.  “Hello sister, sorry to have awaken-”

“What are you doing to my niece?  She does not scream like this, I can hear her across the way.”

T’Challa sighs.  “I have been trying to find her stuffed cat, have you seen it by chance?”

Shuri shakes her head.  “No, but do you remember where you left it last?”

T’Challa thinks it over.  “I brought it in her stroller when we went for a walk earlier today….Oh Bast!  It must’ve fell out on the trail somewhere.”

Shuri scoffs.  “Wildebeests have gotten to it by now.  Baba is doing a great job, isn’t he, Orisa?”

Orisa cries out, reaching for Shuri, but get frustrated by the elusive hologram.

“I can not believe this.  That was my toy from childhood, and now it is gone.  When will she sleep??”  T’Challa whines as his head begins to throb from the noise.  

“I am sending over Okoye to help you out.  Godspeed.”  Shuri salutes, signing off.

T’Challa sits in the nursery, putting his daughter in her crib before walking quickly to the bedroom again.

Nakia pops up as soon as he opens the doors.  “Did you find it?”  

“I found out about it…”  T’Challa says looking down.

Nakia looks defeated.  “What happened.”

T’Challa purses his mouth, hating to let her down.  “I’ll tell you but you aren’t going to like it…”

“Enough of the dramatics!  My baby is crying, what happened to her one pacifier?”  Nakia demanded.

“I lost it on the walk around the trail today.  I set it on the bottom cubby part-”

“And I told you time and again that is not stable for the toy to stay in.  How many times did it fall out where we luckily found it again, eh?  Ohh, T’Challa…”  Nakia lays back, clutching her forehead in duress.

T’Challa’s kimoyo beads light up.  “Kumkani, I am here.”  Okoye has arrived.

T’Challa trots downstairs as he opens the doors for Okoye.  “I am so glad you are here.  Could you watch the baby while I go look-”

Okoye gives him a side eye.  “You think I am here to help you look for that thing?  It is long gone, now where is she?”

T’Challa points in confusion.  “Her nursery, but-”

Okoye heads upstairs swiftly as T’Challa remains close behind.  Okoye approaches the crib, smiling at the hysterical child.

“Ohh, now look how you are acting, Princess Orisa.”  Okoye, picks her up gently, laying her in her arms.  “No need to be that way.  You are just too spoiled for your own good, what have I told you?”

Orisa’s cries melt into a whimper as she looks up to Okoye.

“No one likes a privileged monarch.  Granted, you can’t avoid that completely, but crying when no harm has come to you is a bit selfish little one.”  Okoye sits down on the rocking chair.

T’Challa is stunned by the development.  “How...what…”

“Go on to bed, kumkani.  I have her under control.  I will ask for you if I need you.”  Okoye continues to speak to a soothed Orisa as he walks off to join Nakia.

Nakia was half asleep when he rolled into bed with her.  “What are you doing, where is Orisa?”

“With Okoye in the nursery.  Apparently they share a bond.”

Nakia sighs, clutching their blanket.  “Even Okoye is better with her, and she has no children, no husband, is a hardened military general-”

T’Challa shushes her as her hugs her into him.  “Now, give our friend some credit.  She may be without her own, but she is wonderful with children in the village.  She was a great help to us tonight.”

Nakia nods.  “You are right.  T’Challa, why have I become like this?  My greatest fear realized, I have mommy brain and mood swings and it’s just overwhelming.”

T’Challa hugs his wife even tighter.  He did notice a change in her since having Orsa, but figured it was normal because Orisa was not an easy child to rear.  

“Nakia, I love you so much and I thank Bast everyday for you being my partner.  Orisa is lucky to have half of you as part of her, which may be why she is so bratty…”

Nakia elbows him, chuckling a little.

“But do you think we may need to seek counsel?  It couldn’t hurt, and I would be with you if needed, just to make sure everything is alright.”  T’Challa whispers.

“That would be fine.  T’Challa, I am feeling your necessity more and more...it is new to me, from being so independent.”

“You still are quite a bit.  That’s why Okoye is here.  Ask for help when you can, call me.  We have plenty of family and loved ones who will help up when given the chance.”

Nakia looks back at T’Challa, bringing his face down to hers for a moment of affection before sleeping the best they have in weeks.

[henriettaprophet-blog]

|| elle fanning, cisfemale, she/her || ( henrietta ‘henri’ prophet ) is a ( twenty ) year old ( sophomore ) at rockport university studying ( english + communications ). people say they are ( ritzy ) but also ( intractable ), and remind others of ( diamond-encrusted lighters, puppy dog pouts, baby pink stiletto nails ). bet they sure didn’t expect anyone to know about ( her hit-and-run accident in a stolen getaway car ) but someone does, and ( henrietta ) better cooperate if they plan to keep their lives. || james, 20, EST ||

hello! i am james (she/they) and first up is my lil troublemaker, henri !!!! pls love her and me thank u bye

henri’s pinterest is HERE ! it explains her sm better than i can

tw: hit and run

general info:

full name: henrietta eloise prophet

nickname(s): henri, etta, hen

b.o.d.: april 19th

label(s): the baby doll, the hellion, the icarcian, the minx, the prevaricator, etc.

height: 5′7″

hometown: syracuse, new york

sexuality: chaotically bisexual

biography:

awfully middle class, born and raised in new york

her dad’s a salesman for car parts with a small empire and her mother’s an accountant

an only child, minus her childhood cat (r i p socks); raised in a classic american suburban home with a white picket fence and two whole stories

and henri’s never been satisfied with it

she’s pretty much been a manipulative troublemaker since birth

it didn’t help that her parents spoil her; what henri wants, henri gets. no questions asked.

has left claw marks on her fellow students whenever somebody else wanted to be the queen during play time, or when somebody tried to take her favorite toys, or well...whenever henri got upset, really

like...man, could henri throw tantrums like no other. i mean hours of her screaming and crying until somebody gives into her

her parents are either blind to her antics or just straight up scared of henri, because homegirl has aggression like no other

anYWAYs she grew up in a normal home in a normal neighborhood with a normal day-to-day life

god, did it bore her

even when she created drama for her own amusement; i.e. spread a rumor that the head cheerleader in her high school had gotten chlamydia and the poor lass was bullied so badly she transferred (leaving the captain position to good ol’ henri, of course) or accidentally tripped the lead actress in her school musical off the stage and left her in a neck brace so her understudy (cough, henry, cough) had to take over

it just was never enough, because all henri ever had to do was bat her eyelashes and flaunt her pink lil skirts around and they’d hop right off her dick

wanted to be famous, or at the very least rich; to live in the lap of luxury in her furs and diamonds

but without any of the actual effort, ofc.

started stealing shit in high school; from her ‘friends’ houses at first, just small shit that henri wanted for herself

once that thrill wore down she evolved into shoplifting, which was...much more dangerous, and made henri love it all the more so.

often got her friends involved, usually as bait or distractions from lil’ old henri as she swiped objects

like to keep a long story short, henri’s been stealing for...a good amount of years now, from various places

has probably stolen her parent’s credit cards (and her teacher’s....and her coworker’s....etc. etc.) a few times to buy real expensive shit online

she’s only gotten arrested like, a handful of times okay

one spring break, her senior year of high school, henri and her pals had flown to california to do some...shopping, and celebrity stalking, and other normal teenage girl shenanigans

to keep another long story short; they had broken into a celebrity’s home, stolen a buncha designer shit; and when they heard sirens? they stole one of the cars and took off

henri was driving, ofc. she wouldn’t let anybody else drive her getaway car, especially not that real nice sports car...

in the adrenaline of it all, henri ran into a biker full-on and almost skirted off the road.

luckily, for henri, she regained control of the car and...kept driving, without even looking back and despite her friends screaming in her ear

god only knows how they abandoned the car and made it back to their hotel, unscathed, only to hear about a nasty hit and run resulting in a death on the news.

they went back to new york the next day; none of them have spoken up about it. especially not henri. perhaps she’s why none of them spoke up?

anyways, she went to rockport to escape the small amount of guilt in her conscious

decided to lie about her childhood too, says her dad’s the ceo of a car parts company instead of just a salesman, her mother’s a dead broadway starlight, etc. etc. whatever made henri look richer than she was. 

also, partially, so people didn’t question where she got all her designer shit. 

went abroad because that’s what she mcfuckin’ deserves. probably stole her daddy’s credit card too.

also is fucking trash at school, is probably sleeping with people to do her assignments for her.

her goal in life is to acquire a sugar daddy, or multiple, and to marry an especially old one so that they die and leave her with all of his money. <3

personality:

her favorite color is pink and u will not forget it. she appreciates sparkles, furs, jewels, etc. etc. just everything cute and designer and expensive.

anyways she’s the kinda gal where you could be in an intense argument with her and next thing y’know, y’all are fucking. OR, alternately, she’s got a knife pressed against your neck. OR, alternately AGAIN; both. probably both

that being said; henri can come off as pretty..bubbly, ditzy, cute and innocent, with all the hair-twirling and fake laughter. her voice has a permanent innocent tone to it

but ultimately, she’s a bitch. incredibly stubborn, if you cross her once she’ll hate you for life and there’s nothing you could do about it

she may still act like she likes you, but, nah.

still expects to get what she wants and she will still throw a tantrum if she doesn’t get it. doesn’t really take no as an answer?

her mood shifts often, maybe too often, it doesn’t take much to tick her off.

pretty manipulative, often uses people for what she wants

she isn’t...book smart, but she’s pretty damn intelligent in other aspects

a selfish lil brat tbh

only looks out for herself, will betray u the moment she sees an opportunity that benefits herself, and is over all pretty remorseless

she feels intensely but she also refuses to believe that she’s ever in the wrong. represses any emotions related to sadness, or anything that’ll just dampen her mood.

doesn’t bother to hide that part of her, either. let it be known that she’ll use you

she always has a knife on her, and a lighter, and a credit card that likely isn’t hers. those are her three essentials.

suuuper destructive, will not hesitate to ruin your life or her own tbh

will do anything at least once, or twice, maybe even three times

morals? what r morals?

a day drinker; constantly high off of god know’s what, and really...any vice? she’s got it.

is a l w a y s partying, even if it’s just her

i wouldn’t call her hypersexual but like...homegirl’s got a very high sex drive and is probably out here fuckin’ multiple times a day

but yeah no she’s not a very empathetic person like...if you’re going thru some shit? henri doesn’t give a fuck

she’ll probably use it against you to guilt u into doing something for her, honestly

considers herself untouchable, and is pretty willing to do anything to keep herself free from death or arrest or anything, y’know ??

has a very big ego, too. like. god. she think she’s the shit. acts like it.

erratic, irrational, can get VERY POSSESSIVE and JEALOUS of pals, people she’s fucking. etc. etc. if she doesn’t like the person your talking to you will Know

a big ol’ fuckin’ liar

wanted connections:

literally.....anything.....just hmu

like alriGHT

gimme FUCK BUDDIES of VARIOUS SORTS.

really MANIPULATIVE relationships on either end, probably henrietta’s

maybe a few friends w/ similar interests of glam n glitz n beauty

e n e m i e s - let henri try and fucking strangle u, b/c i s2g she’ll try if she hates you

like just people to get into cat fights turned knife fights with

maybe a ride or die ?? a best friend of sorts ??

let her use people

but really i am down for anything.

EXES ? maybe ??

pleathe. let’s brain storm...together

[snowwriting]

Steampunk Gotham - Part 7

This was a story I started years ago on tumblr and never finished it because I make a lot of excuses. If you would like to read the full story thus far, check out the tab on my page titled “Steampunk Gotham”. Luckily, I have a friend who read it, loved it, and reminds me how terrible I am at posting ever since. This part is dedicated to him.

Thank you, Josh. I hope it was worth the wait.

The feeling of rose petals glided across her skin leaving a tingling pulse from each velvet touch. She smiled in adoration of her vibrant children, every red bloom more lovely than the last. She whispered loving phrases to each of them as she moved through the row of roses, inspiring them to grow and thrive in a world ruled by selfishness and corruption. Her babies meant everything to her, having them close calmed the silent rage that threatened to bubble over every time a sleazy business executive announced the opening of a new mall or condominium which was once a lush, green park. Gotham could be so beautiful if only it was more plant friendly, so Poison Ivy would make it more beautiful.

Moss lined the cool ground under her bare feet like a blanket to the earth as she approached a brightly lit table adorned with colourful assortments of flowers in pink crystal vases. In the middle of the table was her most prized possession; the rare Altruthian Venus Fly. A plant so powerful it is able to snap off a full-grown humans arm in its wide, leafy jaws. The Altruthian (or ‘Arthur’ as Harley had taken to calling it whenever she bounced by for some green tea) has a toxin it sprays out when its sensitive leaves picks up the vibrations of another living organism. If the colourless, odorless gas is sprayed into the air and the victim is unlucky enough to inhale the unseen toxin, it would render them unconscious within moments leaving Arthur to reach down and gobble its victim like an anaconda in the jungle.

"My little angel," she cooed as she leaned over the plant, "how do we feel tonight?" Her fingertips brushed over the leaves of the plant as it shivered under her touch. "Mother will fix you something to eat. You stay right here, my darling, I'll be right back."

The dark green-room she stood in enveloped her in smells of exotic flowers and feeding solutions. Her home, her paradise, her sanctuary was always a place of comfort for her. Flower pots, vases, gardening tools and full flower beds made up a maze of beauty in the large room. A large vine unfurled itself down from the ceiling towards Ivy, stroking her arm affectionately. She paused to listen to her vine through her pale green skin, absorbing its worries and concerns.

“An intruder? We can’t have pests running around my precious babies, now can we? It’s simply unsafe.” she laced her fingers around the vine, curling it between her forefinger and thumb, green eyes burning with the desire. “Of course, it will only be unsafe for the pest.” The garden responded to her tone with a shiver of leaves as the vine wrapped itself under her weight, lifting her off her feet and guiding her to the intruder. “Shall we spray our pests?”

The vine carried her through an archway of yellow blossoms and up onto the balcony of the green-room where she could sit and watch for her prey to stumble blindly into Arthurs path.

Only moments later did she see a shadow appear from the dark corners of the room. Her eyes widened with delight as the shadow slowly walked to the table. She held her breath in anticipation of what was to come. The shadow reached a steady hand towards the rare plant, knowing nothing of its biology. Ivy could feel every plant in the room waiting for what happens next. Arthur sprayed its gas in the air around the shadow which took only moments to drop to the floor. Ivy released her breathe as the vine lifted her to the ground where the body lay. She breathed the remainder of the toxin deep into her lungs as it had no effect on her, calming herself before she inspected her victim. As she knelt next to the body, resting her fingertips in the moss growing around her for comfort, she fell back with shock as the crumpled shadow quickly threw itself on top of her, pinning her to the floor.

“Damn you!” she cried starring up into the glass eyes of the Bats goggles, a gas mask covering what she knew would be a smug look of triumph. Her vine quickly rushed to her aid, wrapping itself around the Batman and throwing him across the room. He rolled and landed swiftly on two feet, hurling two bronze batarangs at the attacking vine which screeched in pain and slunk away behind its master. Ivy stood, eyes narrowed with rage and plucked the weapons from her vine, giving them one vile look before tossing them to the floor.

“What do you want?” her voice was calm, but her fury spoke through her plants that shook in terror.

“An antidote to a toxin, one of Jokers. I need it now. Selina’s life is at risk.” His words were deep and clear regardless of the gas mask that barely moved as he spoke.

“And why would I help you? All you or that feline have ever been for me are thorns in my side.” She thought for a moment and flipped her long red hair as she turned away from the Batman, striding to the table where Arthur sat. “However, I cannot accept that Catwoman’s death would be at the hands of that mad clown.” Behind her most loved plant sat a smaller, yellow cactus. She plucked a needle from the cactus and slowly turned back to Batman. “But I want something from you first.” She said with a sly smile.

“What is it?” he replied with a growl.

“You have to return what she stole from me.” She smiled sweetly, twirling the needle between her fingers.

He paused for a beat, thinking about the request. “What did she steal from you?”

“What else, but a rare flower? It’s quite valuable and I want it back. It’s named the Peruthian Rose, splendid in color, scent, texture. It’s simply exquisite,” she sighed. “-and she stole it. Something about rose scented catnip. I’m sure you don’t want me to try getting it back from her personally, do you?”

“Don’t threaten me, Ivy.” he growled, no doubt thinking of the last time Catwoman stole from Ivy. “I will see what I can do about your plant, now give me the antidote.”

Ivy faked a pout that spread into a dark smile. “You have time to get my rose first. Joker’s two dose venom is fatal only if you don’t stop it before it’s first course through the body, which you must have done with a low dosage antiserum already or else you wouldn’t be here trying to help your precious Cat. Which also means she’ll be going through her second course of the venom without a proper antivenom, which is where this needle comes in. If my chemistry is as good as I know it is, you have an hour to get my rose from wherever she’s hidden it, deliver it to me, and save your pussycat. Until then, you will not receive my cooperation and I promise I will make it very difficult for you to leave here on time. Do this and it’s yours. Easy as that. Not too much to ask for, don’t you think?”

 “Ivy, the only reason I haven’t smashed every pot, ripped down every vine and ground every bud under my boot to take that needle from you by force is because you’ve been on very good behaviour. This better not be a trick. You will give me the antidote the second I bring your flower to you, do you understand?

She laughed and her plants shook with excitement. “Times running out, darling.” The vine wrapped around her torso and pulled her to the balcony as the Batman grappled through an open window in the roof.

[antagonist-chan]

The Pets I’ve Had

I suddenly feel like talking about this.

I’ve lived with six pets over the course of my life- three dogs and three cats.

Let’s go in order of acquisition, shall we? Maggie, Tigger, Rox, Red, Glimmer, and Grey.

1: Maggie

Maggie was my household’s first pet, and she was my dog. Sure, my parents were her official owners, but every pet has that one person that they’re closest to, and for Maggie, that was me. Mainly because we grew up together- we got her when I was eight months old, and she was a baby puppy, who still hadn’t grown to full size. We got her when we were moving into our house (my parents and I lived in an apartment for the first eight months of my life, but after that we moved into the house we still live in today)- as we (and by we, I mean my parents, I was an infant) were moving furniture, some neighbor kids came around and explained that their dogs had puppies and they were trying to find homes for them, and they ended up pressuring my Mom into taking her.

Maggie was a weird dog because she wasn’t really big on toys. The reason being that, well, as dogs do, she would often play with my toys, and break them. And she’s get in trouble for it. And she got so guilty over it that she ended up... shunning toys entirely. She didn’t even play with sticks.

Maggie died very suddenly of cancer when I was twelve and she was eleven. And by “suddenly,” I mean that she had been just fine the previous day. Three days after Christmas, she suddenly keeled over, and couldn’t get up. When we took her to the vet, it was discovered that she had a very bad tumor that had burst. Fairly soon before that, my grandparents had had a dog who died of cancer, and after that debacle, my family decided that there wasn’t much point in trying to treat cancer in dogs (it would be expensive, it wouldn’t extend their life much longer, and it would be traumatic for the dog, too), so we decided to put her down.

Extra fun fact: “Maggie” was NOT short for “Margaret.” It was short for “Mogwar, Slayer of Demons.” Dad is a hardcore metalhead, and he came up with the name while he and another one of his metalhead friends were hanging out. Interestingly, “Mogwar” went on to become my Mom’s online name (just like my online name is Antagonist, or my Dad’s online name is Pstscrpt (PostScript without any vowels, because my Dad is ALSO a computer programmer)).

2: Tigger

Tigger is special because I named her. She was a cat, and she was orange, so I said, “It’s Tigger!” and that was her name.

Tigger was fucking evil. You know how I mentioned that all pets had that one person they were especially close to? For Tigger, that was my Mom, but only because she hated Mom slightly less than she hated the rest of us (even though, for a significant chunk of her life, it was my job to feed her).

Unlike with Maggie, Tigger joined us when neither she nor I were babies- Tigger had had a previous owner, and I was three at that point. Her previous owner abandoned her in a terrible way- when they moved away, they just left her behind, not even bothering to find her a family. So, by the time we adopted her, she was kind of halfway-feral.

Now, Tigger hated all of us, but she hated me and Maggie especially. Every time I walked past her, she would hiss, scratch me, and run off. And, since I was three, it was incredibly traumatic. And, unlike most incidents of cats attacking toddlers, I didn’t even bring it on myself- I never hit Tigger, at least as far as I remember, and my parents seem to agree with that.

Anyways, Tigger is why I was afraid of cats for my entire pre-teen life. Even though I knew that all cats weren’t as evil as Tigger when I was slightly older, I was still nervous around them. Whenever I hung out with my Aunt Amanda’s cat, Athena, I would eventually warm up to her enough to start having a good time playing with and petting her, but that would be after ten minutes of reprehension.

Tigger is, so far, our only pet who died on her own rather than being put down- she was old and her body was failing, so we set her up in the bathroom for a week. I was twelve at the time- it had been a year and a half since Maggie died, and about the same amount of time since we had gotten our next pet, Rox (so, Rox knew Tigger for about a year and a half). One day, we were watching a movie, and I got up to use the bathroom, and found her motionless. When I touched her, she was cold. So, I told my parents, and we buried her in the backyard. At the time, I was kind of sad that she died alone, but my parents pointed out that dying alone is what she probably wanted, since she hated all of us.

3: Rox

Rox came into our life just as suddenly as Maggie left us- three days after Maggie died, my Aunt Tracy announced to us that she had a friend who was moving, and that his new home didn’t allow pitbulls, so he was looking for a new home for his dog, Rox. We invited Tracy and this friend over, and he ended up leaving Rox with us.

Rox, like Tigger, was especially close to my Mom. But unlike Tigger, Rox didn’t hate any of us (well, at first he hated our sometimes-roommate, Jody (he was our sometimes-roommate at the time; now, Jody is our full-time roommate and essentially my third parent), but he eventually got used to him). Rox just loved my Mom more than he loved any of the rest of us. He would follow her around and spend as much time as possible cuddling her (luckily for him, at that point in her life, she spent most of her time on the couch, and we let our pets on the couch). We joked frequently that Rox thought of Mom as his mother, but it wasn’t entirely a joke.

We also joked about his name. We ended up “deciding” that Rox was short for Roxy or Roxanne, and would sing “Roxanne” by the Police at him. We also joked that his name was Rox, as in, “Dumb as a box of.”

Because Rox was a fucking dumbass. He was quite possibly the stupidest dog I’ve ever met, and definitely the stupidest we’ve owned. His second favorite person after my Mom was my Grandpa, and one time, while we were over at my Grandparents’ house, Grandpa put on a hat, and Rox flipped his shit. He couldn’t recognize my Grandpa- HIS SECOND-FAVORITE PERSON- when he put on a hat. That is how stupid Rox was. Rox also had no pain sensors- no matter what happened to him, I only ever heard him yelp in pain once. As a show of how both stupid and impervious to pain he was, shortly after we first got him, I was going to let him back into the house, and he was waiting by the door. Maggie was smart enough to back off when the door started opening, but Rox wasn’t- I opened the door so hard that Rox was thrown backwards onto the sidewalk, and it was especially a hard fall because our back door is elevated and you had to climb up stairs to get to it. And yet, Rox just picked himself back up and walked in.

Rox was also the most victimized pet we’ve had- we were his third owners, and we’re pretty sure his first owners abused him, because he had a broken tail when we got him (we were told that his tail got hit by a car, but that makes no sense, so we’re pretty sure it’s a cover story for dog abuse). Also, we think his stupidity may have been caused by brain damage. And he was terrified of cars (which was too bad for him because he needed to be driven places fairly frequently), and we think his abuse had something to do with that. And, while we owned him, he suffered numerous health problems- most notably, he tore his back ACL’s, which left him basically disabled for the rest of his life (we couldn’t take him on walks, he couldn’t walk up long flights of stairs, and he spent even more of his life resting than most dogs). The aftermath of the first ACL tear was the only time I’ve ever heard him yelp- I accidentally leaned too hard on his leg while cuddling him. Beyond that, as I previously mentioned, he seemed to not have pain sensors.

And another way he was the most victimized of our pets- so far, he’s died the youngest. He was three when we got him at the beginning of 2010 (like, literally the beginning- we got him on New Years). He died about a month after the five-year anniversary of us getting him- January of 2015, fairly shortly after I turned seventeen. He was only seven (as opposed to Maggie, who was eleven, and Tigger, who was god knows how old but probably somewhere in the mid-teens). He, like Maggie, died of cancer, but it wasn’t as sudden. However, it WAS a lot more traumatic- I didn’t watch him die, but I did watch him effectively die. When I was getting ready to go to bed, I started petting him... and then he had a seizure. My parents rushed him to the emergency vet, and what they basically said was that the seizure left him brain-dead, and he was put down the next day. I still feel kinda guilty that I was the last thing he saw, since he loved Mom so much.

4: Red

Red was Tigger’s replacement. About a year after Tigger died, when I was thirteen, we got him. He was a baby kitten who was rescued off the streets.

I got over my fear of cats through Red. Red is just... so much better of a cat. Red is why I’m a cat person.

Of course, Red’s favorite person is.... honestly, I’m not sure. Red is fairly equal in distributing affection. If I had to guess, though, I think his favorite is Jody, the roommate.

Of course, Red’s still not a great cat. When we still had Rox, Red seemed to have fairly average intelligence... but when Rox died, we realized that Red only seemed smart because we were comparing him to Rox, the dog who couldn’t recognize you when you put on a hat. Red isn’t nearly as dumb as Rox, but he’s still a fucking idiot.

Also, Red can’t get along with other cats. It’s not that he doesn’t like other cats- he loves other cats! But he gets too friendly and annoys the hell out of other cats. He’s kind of a selfish asshole.

Red is also just... only barely a cat. Rox basically raised him, so Red kinda thinks he’s a dog. He’s more friendly than most cats (but is just as much of a pretentious asshole as other cats; he just likes to be a pretentious asshole in a more friendly way), he likes belly rubs, and he likes his carrier. Yes, seriously. He likes to hang out in his cat carrier. And even other cats’ cat carriers!

Red’s greatest asset is his body. Sure, he’s fat, but he’s one of the cutest, prettiest cats you’ll see, and he’s also exceptionally soft. Mom has given him the nicknames of “Soft,” “Asshole,” and “Our Beautiful Idiot.”

Also, we barely ever call him Red, probably because it took us a while to give him a name- about a week. So, we usually just call him various pet names (such as the aforementioned “Asshole” and “Beautiful Idiot,” but also Cat, Kitten, Kitten-Cat, Baby, and You). And technically, Red is a nickname too- his full name is Morgan Freecat. But everyone calls him Red. Because Shawshank Redemption.

Red is still alive, and probably will be alive for a while longer because he’s only, like, six.

5: Glimmer

Glimmer was Rox’s replacement, but she took longer than Rox did (although not as long as Red did). We got her eight months after Rox died (so, August of 2015). She was less than a year old, so still technically a puppy, but she had already grown to most of her size, she wasn’t really little anymore.

Glimmer is the complete opposite of Rox. She’s black with white spots (as opposed to Rox, who was white with brown spots). She’s energetic and healthy (as opposed to Rox, who was weak and sickly). She’s the smartest dog we’ve ever owned, and possibly the smartest dog I’ve ever met (as opposed to Rox, the dumbass who couldn’t recognize you if you put on a hat). The one way that she IS like Rox is that they are the only two pets who we didn’t name ourselves- we got Glimmer from a shelter, and the shelter had already given her that name.

Glimmer is also close friends with Red, but you wouldn’t tell immediately- Red likes to hiss and growl when he plays with her (which is why we initially assumed that he didn’t like her), which is weird because he never did that with Rox. Their favorite game is “Bitey-face,” where they’ll play-bite each other’s... well, facial areas. Red bites Glimmer’s face, Glimmer bites Red’s head because Red’s head fits in her mouth. However, they’ll also play “Kissy-face,” where Glimmer will lie down and Red will groom her. It’s adorable. This isn’t to say Red always likes Glimmer’s attention- Red does get tired of her. Which is a problem because Glimmer does not get tired of him. You remember how I said all pets have that one favorite person? Yeah, Glimmer’s is Red.

Glimmer is also ridiculously strong. Yesterday, I tried to take her for a walk, and she yanked me down the stairs so hard and fast that I nearly smashed my face on the sidewalk. Very powerful Pupper; do not underestimate.

6: Grey

Grey is the most recent addition to the household, and ironically also the oldest. She’s also the only pet who was neither the first pet of that type or a replacement. We took her in because she needed a home.

See, remember Jody? Well, Grey is his cat (and by extension, Jody is Grey’s favorite person, although my Dad is in close second). Jody also recently divorced his wife. He moved in with us well before he did it, though (she was just kinda hoping it was temporary). Since we already had two pets, and because Jody didn’t want to stress Grey out by moving her, he left her with his wife. However, when he finally showed her divorce papers, she decided that she couldn’t take care of Grey anymore and forced her onto him. So, Grey lives with us now.

Grey also lives exclusively upstairs, and ever since she moved in up there, Red and Glimmer have been banned from upstairs, because Grey hates them both with a passion. Part of her hatred for Red is because Red is just overly-friendly, as mentioned in Red’s area, and part of her hatred for Glimmer is just that Glimmer is, well, a dog, but most of her hatred is just because while Grey is VERY friendly with humans, she does not get along well with other animals period. And, well, Grey is old, so we don’t want to stress her out by forcing her to interact with Red and Glimmer, so we keep them separate.

I don’t know how Jody named her; he’s had Grey longer than he’s known us.

[bl6ckr0s3]

Frustration of Work/Kitty Covid/The Stupid Ex-Husband

I started off getting ready pretty late and leaving the apartment 30 minutes later than I normally should have. I had a lot on my mind yesterday due a certain amount of current events. I realized even though I went to work yesterday, I still had a lot of anxiety & frustration in my mind today so I truly didn’t feel like going to work today. Right when I was passing through Montclair, I decided to just call off work online. I parked at Tommy’s Burgers on Central Ave., called off work, then went into the drive-thru of Tommy’s to order some food. I been craving them, so I had to get their food since I was starving since last night. After having lunch, I drove back home to relax. 

My car was beginning to act up since last week on a Monday. I started noticing a lack of power and a dragging feeling every time I accelerated. I was getting concerned if my transmission was gonna take a shit because my Honda Accord is at about 370k miles. Anyways, I had to take my car out to work because Ricky needed to take his car out to get some weed. Since he wasn’t gonna be able to return home in time, I had no choice, but to take my car to work. The evening I drove home, I know it wasn’t gonna make it so I had to end up leaving it parked at my family’s home until I was able to take it in the shop to get it diagnosed on the weekend. On Saturday first thing, I took it in for my 11am appointment. So my catalytic converter was clogged and they also recommended a 2ndary oxygen sensor. They wanted $2k for the service, so I only paid for the diagnosis and ended up having it towed by Ricky’s mechanic shop in Maywood for them work on my car.

When I decided to leave it at my family’s house, my sister thought about giving me her Prius to have a new transportation to rely on, but knowing how weak she is and still allowing our father to control her decisions, he yelled at her to not give me her car. She was being nice and thoughtful, but I told her it’s ok. My dad has nothing to do w/ my business which is the reason why I chose to move out of that house. I told her she should keep her car because it’s still new and she’s almost done paying it off. It would’ve been nice to have a newer car, but my dad just don’t believe in providing me something that’s practical. He told my sister to give me his old Avalon instead even though she told me it’s been having problems. No point in me taking the old man’s car because it’s older than my car, not to mention it wouldn’t be practical for me since I’m about to have a baby and I commute far between work & home. He’s too selfish to think about things like that, so I don’t want nothing from the old man. My sister was even bugging me about having his mechanic look at my car for free, I told him no thanks. I kept telling her that I was gonna handle it. It’s funny that right when I pulled up to take the car in the shop, my dad’s mechanic just barely pulled into their driveway. They couldn’t fucking just wait like I told them to. So whatever, i’m sorry that mechanic wasted his time and gas driving there, I didn’t ask them to call him. 

My sister was nice enough to give me $1k calling it a baby shower money, but I know it was really money to help pay for my car repair. I had the catalytic converter changed out, the oxygen sensor, the knock sensor, and a drive axle. On the day I picked up my car from the shop, it drove fine to work. On the way home to the freeway after work, it broke down on me with a loud ass grinding noise. I wasn’t able to accelerate anymore, so lucky I was able to pull it in the L.A. Fuel gas station on my right and I was able to be parked safe on the side of the driveway until the AAA truck came to tow me. Luckily, Ricky’s mechanic was only 14 minutes away from my job, so I didn’t have to pay any money to have my car towed that night. I was kinda pissed off & disappointed and it sucked that Ricky had to come out all the way to L.A. to pick me up. I called the shop the next morning and they told me the drive axle was defective, so they replaced it with a new part. I had them test drove it twice just to make sure that anymore mistakes can be caught before I drive it again after their repair. 

When I went to work yesterday, all I was able to think about were my poor cats. Moon had been sick with the cold or I would probably call it kitty covid 19 for about a month now. Then Mia caught it right after since they are always in the same room. I had to wash the cat bed because stupid ass Mia pissed in it. Moon and Mia were hacking up drooling and a lot of snot was coming out of their noses. They look like they had trouble breathing which the respiratory infection came out from their colds. Ricky thinks that I could’ve brought in the Covid from my shoes because of the fact that I walk straight inside without taking off my shoes and showering, but then again it isn’t my fault. I was almost convinced that Moon and Mia are about to die because they are getting pretty old. Moon is now 7 years old and Mia is 6. Mia has been sleeping in the cage since I took her box bed away because it was stinky, I had to give Mia a bath at the time too because their sickness is also causing the bedroom to stink. Ricky was nice enough to help look after them while I’m at work and helped wiped up their fluids and give them another bath. For the 1st time in weeks, Moon actually came outside of the bedroom this afternoon while I was making sandwiches b4 leaving to work. I worked on healing the cats while I was cursing Steven from my job to be banished. A couple of times, I was hoping that whatever I’m trying to do to help the cats did some kind of a difference. I had it with that stupid ass pervert pathetic excuse of a man because all he does is jack off to the women he talks to at work. He’s lazy as fuck and hardly works. He spends more time talking to the women than he does working the mail. The day I was trying to clean up the mess when we got in, he was pushing a wire cage towards the middle and he had the nerve to be yelling at one of the guys at the rack because he was trying to come through and one of his racks was blocking the path. Steven could have just softly and gently pushed it aside, but instead he shoves it hard with the wire cage almost hitting Brian Lee. I was yelling at the stupid fuck asking him what the fuck is his problem. He just kept walking of course, either he heard me or he was deaf and stupid. I couldn’t take his shit no more, so I just felt that cursing him was what he deserved. I couldn’t stand looking at his stupid ass face anymore.

Jennifer basically spent all evening last night doing nothing. She didn’t attempt to clean anything in her area at all, all she did was nothing. To think that she took my old work area after I bid out of tour 3, I could’ve cleaned up and set up myself and got some work done while all her mail is just piling up. She’s so lazy & useless. It only added more to my frustration when I was getting old and stupid ass Randy & La Tiera also wanted to keep the fans on. At times if I get cold and my belly starts hurting, I would have to go diarrhea which they wouldn’t know anyways, because they don’t have much respect for other’s health needs or are just too selfish. I just wanted to walk away and work somewhere else around the unit instead of working around people anymore. I miss working on my old rack. I was happy there. Now I think i’ll just spend the remainder of my energy trying to banish Steven & Jennifer so that I can have my peace back on the rack. I’m getting fed up working on SWYB. 

I been also nosing around Brian’s Facebook profile. I been logging in now and then to delete all the photos that he took of us when we were together. When I tried texting him this morning, he never responded to me. I wonder if he has blocked my phone number even though I blocked his? I noticed he also blocked me on both of my Facebook accounts when I tried contacting him about when he’s gonna be home so that I can have some paperwork delivered to him. So looks like he’s gonna try to hide out and avoid getting a divorce. I already found a company in his city in Arizona that has some good ratings, a serving service. They don’t charge too much so I’m planning on giving them a call tomorrow or next week. I plan on mailing all the paperwork to their office in Mesa, AZ so that they can serve those papers to Brian. I have to give AAA a call also to remove my name from his account because when I had to call them to have my car towed that other night, the dispatcher was asking me if this is Brian, I told her no, me and him are going through a divorce. She mentioned I should give the customer service a call to have my name removed from his account. Anyways, once I get the papers served to him, I don’t have to worry about doing my part anymore for at least a month. All I have to do is wait to see if he will respond or not.

[mrsindiesmothers-blog]

Scenes From a Mommyhood

DAY ONE—

I survived! Holy crap, there is not enough made of how painful bringing a child into the world really is. I am so happy to be holding my baby after carrying him for so long. All the dreams I had about what he would look like are blown out of the water. I have given birth to a little ball of cuteness and judging by my choice of words, the pain medicine has not worn off completely.

I wanted to do things by the book and when I say book I mean Spiritual Midwifery. I had so many ideas about what labor would be like. The book made it seem like I could have a magical experience pushing my baby out. Nothing was magical about it, no matter how much I listened to Cat Stevens or breathed through the rushes. At no point did I see colors surrounding the other people in the room. At midpoint through my labor, I believe I told my nurse that I suspect LSD played a part in their birthing stories. My nurse pointed out that all the stories were written after the fact. I liked that nurse.

I felt like a failure when I gave in and opted for an epidural. Society played a part in my decision to be all natural in my delivery, but when the time came, society was not helping me through my labor. Ten hours of pain and craziness then all at once, he is here. Not enough is made about tearing during birth. Then again, if more people knew how painful healing from that is, I think the population would drop considerably.

The rest of the day, people were in and out of my room with congratulations. It felt like my heart would stop every time the nurse would take my baby for testing or bathing. Wow, I am a mother. The last nurse has left for the night. Now what? I looked at my baby boy, sleeping so calmly. Maybe labor isn’t so bad…

DAY 30–

Wow, one month into this whole mom thing and I have managed to not drop the baby. Go me! I feel like once I am able to get through a diaper change without him peeing on me, I will receive a badge for my mommy sash or an achievement will unlock.

I managed a trip to the store the other day. I was so freaked out walking around with such a little baby. I felt like I was ready to box with anyone who tried to look at him too closely. I never thought about germs like this before. Those little terrorists are looking to attack my little helpless baby. Admittedly, I may be a bit neurotic about it, but I am not taking my chances. I am glad that I had the forethought to make a list, because as soon as I walked into the store all I could think of were germs and more germs.

I stood in front of the baby formula for what felt like an eternity. My doctor’s words echoed in my head, “The medicine that you need to take for your asthma will affect your breast milk, it would be best if you bottle fed him.” So, breast feed or breathe, well shit…

DAY 366—

Yesterday marked a year of keeping my baby alive. It seems like a miracle to have made it so far, but at the same time it feels like time has flown. He is teaching me not to have any expectations anymore.

I had a party for the family, but I am sure he really did not care so much. I put a cake in front of him and all he did was stare at it. I was so sure that he would grab it and make a mess, but he didn’t. Half-disappointed I put his hand on the cake and put his icing-covered hand on his face. The look he gave me was so heartbreaking! His little bottom lip stuck out and his eyes watered. He stuck his hand out to be cleaned so I cleaned it, all the while feeling like an asshole.

After everyone left, I started to clean up while still feeling bad for making my boy do something he didn’t want to. All of a sudden from the other side of the house came a loud scream. I ran to his room so fast that I set foot in the door before the sound had stopped. My heart was racing. I looked in his crib, expecting some horrific scene of pain or poop. He was standing with his arms reached out, “Mom ma up!” His little chubby hands opened and closed rapidly, I call it his gimme gimme sign. I picked him up and inspected him as I took him into my arms. As soon as he was safely in my arms, his little hands grabbed my ears and pulled my face to his open mouth. Slobbery baby kisses make everything better…

DAY 886—

I never thought that becoming a mother would make me so antisocial. Two and a half years into this and I am starting to think I have learned nothing at all. I took my big boy to the park today and we had a good walk before going to the playground area. I was making sand castles with him when other kids came to play.  Wanting him to socialize with other children, I showed him how to share his sand toys with other kids. I noticed that the other parent was distracted, talking on her cellphone. The kids were playing fine until the other child took a shovel from my son and hit him on the head with it. I grabbed the shovel with the other child’s hand still clenched on it. I turned and motioned for the other parent while saying as nicely as I can, “We don’t want to hit our friends, sweetie.”

When the other mother got to where we were, she grabbed my hand and pulled it away. “Don’t you ever touch my kid!” At this point I am wondering if I have been punked, was this person for real? “I have not touched your child. I merely moved the shovel that he had hit my son in the head with.” The cursing continued until I had finally had enough and picked up our sand toys and left. Sometimes I just don’t want to be around other people, just my bubs and I. Selfish, I know…

DAY 1,277—

Finally! No more diapers! I think this instance was the only time in my life that I did an end zone dance. No more expensive diapers and ointments, no more gross diaper changing stations at Walmart. How did we celebrate this victory? By watching Disney’s Cars for the 17 millionth time! I am sure it has been less than that, but I lost count after the 1,257th. I am not sure if the military knows of this kind of torture. I try to focus on my work, but the songs keep creeping into my consciousness. I found myself typing something about life being a highway.

Bedtime has gotten interesting; the sleeping arrangements now are mommy and daddy in Bubby’s bed or mommy, daddy, and Bubby in mommy and daddy’s bed. All night we do this dance. Mommy and Daddy lie down in Bubby’s bed and read him bedtime stories till he falls asleep. Then we creep out of his room like ninjas so we can have some alone time. We get about an hour before we hear little bare feet on ceramic tile. At this point we have a few options available to us: one of us take him back to his room and lay down with him, he come lay in bed with us, or send him  back to bed without us. So here is the rub:

If one of us goes to put him back to bed we run into the situation where whoever goes will fall asleep in the room with him. Then the other has to come and wake them quietly and they both have to ninja their way out again. This presents another opportunity for our Bubs to wake up.

If we let him lay in bed with us, he wins and we have the most uncomfortable sleep. He does not curl up snuggly and perfect in his sleep, he rolls around until we create a perfect “H” in the bed where his is periodically kicking one or both of us to the edges of the bed. This guarantees a morning of copious amounts of coffee and ibuprofen (for us of course).

Then there is sending him to bed on his own, this usually causes crying which tugs at our hearts. He makes up being scared of Lightning McQueen in order to come back and appeal his case every 20 minutes. This leads us back to letting him lay in bed with us and the subsequent coffee with a coffee chaser.

So the continual Cars soundtrack to my life while living on poor sleep has me ready to talk. The military should really know about this…

DAY 1,300—

Today I took my boy to his first day of preschool. A rational human being would see this as a good thing, but I never claimed to be rational. Nope. Not once. He was so strong and cool about it. He acted like this was what he did every day. How can he be so cool about this? As he let go of my hand and walked into class, I fell apart. I suddenly found myself wishing I was as cool as my son…

DAY 1,955—

Today was just so incredibly horrible; I thought I was going to burst. I woke late because my alarm was muted by little fingers. I hold over and the clock read 7:30 a.m.! I fell out of bed. Opting to skip my shower to gain more time, I ran to wake my boy and get him dressed for school. As I was trying to get him dressed he kept grabbing my face and kissing me, saying, “I wuv you.” This act would normally make me so incredibly happy, but it slowed our morning when we were so incredibly behind. I got us ready and out the door by 8:10. The kindergarten door closes at 8:15 so I had just enough time to get him to school. However, it turned out my clock was off because as I was pulling up, the door was closing. I had to park the car, walk my son through the front door of the school, and sign him in so he could get a special sheet of paper to show his teacher. After he was safely in his classroom, I walked out to my car. I just happened to look down at the ground by my car and noticed my tire was flat. So, all dressed up for my presentation at school, I put the donut on my car and limped it over to the tire shop.

Luckily I had replaced that tire recently so it only needed a patch, but the repair caused me to be even more behind. I sat in the waiting area buzzing with frustrations that I could not share with anyone. Once I was back on the road again, I made it onto the freeway just in time for the rush hour to die down. I cranked up the stereo and drove like a bat out of hell, well at least which was what the officer said I did when he pulled me over for speeding. I gritted my teeth and accepted my ticket with a “thank you officer.”

I made it to school 25 minutes late for my presentation, but luckily enough my professor accepted my ticket as an excuse. Even though my clothes were disheveled and my hair was wind-blown, I gave my presentation my all. When class was over, I headed back to the school to pick up my son. His teacher handed me his school pictures. His smile made me laugh because it was not a smile, well more like he was baring his bottom teeth. He had lost his first tooth a few days before so I am sure he wanted to document the occasion.

When we got home, the dog had managed to get into the brand new, rather expensive, locking garbage can and strewn its contents all over the floor. I had lost count of how many times I had cussed at this point, but my son reminded me by running through the house screaming, “shit, shit, shit, damn it…” Well shoot. Having given up on making anything out of the day, I ordered pizza, put on a Thomas and Friends movie, and sat snuggled next to my boy while I did my reading for class.

Apparently I had fallen asleep because I began to dream about really useful engines and devious diesels. I jolted awake and looked down. My big, little man was curled up asleep against me. I put him to bed in his room, poured a glass of wine, and cried…

DAY 2,920—

I often wonder if I am doing a good job raising my son. Today he turned 8, a fact that I still find amazing. He had a sleepover last night with 5 of his friends. He had met his friends from different places so I was not sure how they would get along together. They wound up getting along rather well, all but one. I wondered about how he would do, the last time he was over he made some questionable remarks. My son wanted to give him a second chance, so we did.

Two of my son’s friends are brothers and one of them is autistic. It never mattered to my son or me, but when my son’s other friend started to pick on him, well I was going to make him leave. Leave it to my son to teach me something. He went to his friend and explained to him about his other friend’s autism. He told him not to make fun of his friend because he liked him the way he was.

Admittedly, under my breath, I told that kid where to go, but I was glad my boy had it under control. Never again will I question whether I am doing a good job. No. That’s a lie. I will question myself every minute of every day, but I am glad for the little moments like this.

DAY 3,300—

My son had to stop going to his Kung Fu lessons today because we cannot afford them. He had been doing so well. I feel like the worst person on the planet. Will I ever be able to make it up to him? I really hope so. Major Mom Fail. Major…

DAY 3,564—

Today we went to the arcade! My husband and I felt like children again. We had so much fun showing our son how to play shooting games, pinball, and all the other games. The three of us played all afternoon, ate pizza, and then played some more. It was just so refreshing to get out and be playful. Between my husband and our son, we wound up with a lot of tickets. As we were leaving Bubby asked, “How do video games work?” This started my husband on a long drawn out explanation that lasted the entire car ride home. Today was a good day…

DAY 3,832—

Today my ten year old son came up to me and asked me what a Higgs boson was. I thought I had a few years before particle physics. I wanted to tell him to ask his father, but instead I opened my laptop and we looked it up. According to my son’s teacher he is exceptionally brilliant and what’s more he is exceedingly kind to his classmates. I cannot be more proud of him if he had won a Nobel peace prize. Through all my mistakes and fumbling through life, he became the best of me.

Soon enough he will be in high school and I will not be as cool in his eyes. I will look back on days like these and smile, because I will always be his mommy.