#i just have to make it through another 2 and a half years of uni at least

[pluggedintosaverockandroll]

you know it's exam season because i'm questioning all my life choices

[chunniwritesalot]

mrs. alonso - fa14 smau - part 4a

was it really a family vacation without a bit of drama? (part 1 of this)

part 1 - part 3 - part 3 - part 4a HELLOOOO- read these CHARACTER PAGES (coming soon!) for more information on the new character's introduced! yes bro uppercase because i have to go get into uni mode - HUGE HUGE HUGE HUGE thank you to @eywas-heir because she is actually the brains behind this entire operation and i love her very very much <3

Ilian Alonso

Francesca Alonso

cw: cursing (maybe i forget), fernando being a FREAK on main, sprinkle of angst

wc: a lot

fernando and y/n have been married for 18 years now, but their love has been the same since they met 26 years ago.

information: spanish speaking! reader, fem! reader, you have 2 daughters- one is 18 and one is 5. you and claire ann stroll are best friends! this is really just how i see old people using social medias 😭

fran or francesca is your OLDER daughter and rubi is your YOUNGER daughter and ilian or ili is your NIECE (same age as fran) ALSOOOO if it says 'ina' instead of 'ili or ilian' please let me know- ina and ili are the same people but we changed the name half way through :)!

-start-

“MAMA!!” Francesca called out, “ILI AND I ARE GOING!”

“AH ¡Espérame! (Wait for me!)” Y/n rushed down the stairs of the AirBnB. She frowned at the two girls while putting in her earrings. “You were going to leave with me? I gave birth to you!”

Fran raised an eyebrow and shared a sideways glance with Ilian. “You didn’t give birth to Ili..” She pointed out, motioning to her best friend and cousin. Y/n rolled her eyes and scoffed,

“I might as well have! She’s my daughter as well!” Y/n walked over to Ili, her arms outstretched to hug the younger. Ilian wrapped her arms around Mrs. Alonso almost immediately, relishing in the warm embrace.

“Ay whatever…” Fran mumbled as she slipped on her flip flops. She eyed the two, still hugging each other and scoffed, “Are we done? The UV is 8 and I want to tan!”

Ilian pulled away from Mama Alonso, also slipping her flipflops on. “Fran… you are tan..” She said, furrowing her eyebrows. Y/n shrugged at her daughter’s actions and called out to Rubi. The 5 year old waddled downstairs, holding a bucket and spade and wearing her mother’s sunglasses.

“Ah wow Rubi, luciendo muy elegante (Ah wow Rubi, looking very elegant)" Y/n grinned, crouching down to her daughter’s height. Rubi giggled, throwing herself onto her mother, who scooped her up immediately.

“Okay! Are we ready now?” Ili clapped, holding the door open. The girls cheered and made their way to the beach, where everyone else was.

AT THE BEACH

“Oscar you’re looking.. burnt..” Lando giggled, slapping the Aussie’s red back. Oscar jumped, turning around to face the Brit.

“Ow! Fuck off mate” Oscar hissed, reaching his hand around to rub the spot where Lando slapped him. Logan looked up from the sandcastle that Rubi and him were making to laugh at his best friend,

“Language, Oscar. There’s a five year old!” He reminded his friend. Oscar’s eyes widened and looked down at Rubi, who was looking back at him with a mischievous grin.

“Fuck!” She repeated, clapping her hands together. Logan, Lando, and Oscar all gasped and started to educate Rubi about how that was a bad word.

Near the bar, Max and Y/n were in a very intense conversation about the school system.

“It’s getting very hard for me to teach Rubi…” Y/n sighed, rubbing her temples, “The material is very advanced nowadays.”

Max nodded in sympathy, shaking his head in disappointment as he agreed with her. He took a sip of his nonalcoholic drink and huffed, “I totally agree, Mrs. Alonso! It’s getting way too hard, no wonder students are saying they’re too stressed.”

As the two concerned parents spoke, Fernando and Lewis set up their towels right next to each other, smiling at one another as they both laid down and sighed in content.

“Ayyy this is just what I needed” Nando said as he shut his eyes to bask in the sun. Lewis nodded, doing the same as Aston Martin driver.

—

franalo14 has posted…

liked by y/nalonso, lilialo13, fernandoalo_official, landonorris, logansargeant, olliebearman, and 30,678 others

franalo14 mama mia! 🇬🇷🧿☀️

tagged: @/ilialo13, @/y/nalonso, @/fernandoalo_official, @/lewishamilton, @/oscarpiastri, @/logansargeant, @/maxverstappen1, @/lilynziemer, @/kellypiquet, @/landonorris, @/carmenmundnt, @/george_russell, @/lance_stroll, @/claireannstroll, @/chloestroll

y/nalonso L.O.L!😹😹Beat me to posting the pics📸…speaking of which…🤕🤕please help me…😩😩😩🥹🥹🥹🥹

franalo14 what the hell mama

ilialo13 i look so good here

ilialo13 not ollie bearman in the likes, whats going on?

user1 ILIAN JUST LIKE US FRRR

user2 im new to f1, who is ilian?

user3 ilian or ili is an f2 driver for hitech- she is cousins with the alonso's (i think shes on mrs. alonso's side) so she's often with them. she isn't that present on social media and all her accounts are controlled by her PR team, but her @/ilialo13 account is her private and personal account :) her main account is @/ilian_alonso user2 thank you!

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—

“George please put on a shirt” Fran gagged at the Mercedes driver who was in the kitchen. Georgie grinned, turning to Fran with a devious look.

“I didnt pack any!” He chimed, taking a bite of his sandwich. Ilian walked into the kitchen at the same time, raising an eyebrow at the exchange. She slumped into the island chair, pulling out her phone and frowning.

“George” Ili sighed, looking at the man, “How long am I going to have to wait.”

George frowned, “Wait for what, Ils?”

“For a seat, it’s just…” Ilian sighed, turning off her phone. “I don’t think anyone… believes in me or anything”

Fran’s eyebrows furrowed and she glanced at her cousin, “Why would you say that? We all believe in you.”

Ili shook her head, “It’s just… so exhausting- I see all these rookies getting seats as soon as they join F2 or even F3 and I’ve been there for almost 3 seasons!”

“Been in what for 3 seasons?” Y/n asked as she walked into the kitchen, she glanced at George’s shirtless figure and frowned but ignored it. She stood next to Ilian, rubbing the younger girls back soothingly. “What are we talking about?”

“Nothing.” Ili said quickly, “A show.” She added so it wasn’t suspicious.

Fran raised an eyebrow, sharing a sideways glance with George but didn’t say anything. She knew how protective her mother could get, and Ilian probably didn’t want to sit through a 30 minute lecture about how amazing she was.

“Oh..kay” Y/n shrugged, turning to the fridge and opening it, sorting through the food. She looked back at George and frowned again, “Please put on a shirt, dear.”

George’s mouth opened in shock before sulking out of the kitchen, grumbling on how no one enjoyed his shirtless figure.

—

y/nalonso has posted

liked by olliebearman, ilialo13, ilian_alonso, franalo14, fernandoalo_official, logansargeant, lance_stroll, and 815,979 others

y/nalonso 🇬🇷Pics! País hermoso, siempre volvería...

(translation: Greece photos! Beautiful country, would go there always...)

ilialo13 wahh... tía, ¿por qué publicaste fotos tan feas de mí? 😭😭 (translation: wow.. tia, why would you post these photos of me?)

franalo14 AY no tienes derecho a hablar, mira las innumerables violaciones que he sufrido 😨😨 (translation: you have no room to speak, look at the photos she posted of ME) y/nalonso ¿Qué? ¡Ustedes dos se ven tan bien! (translation: What?! you two looks amazing!)

landonorris 10/10 would go on vacation with the alonso's again

user1 wait im so lost why is the entire grid on vacation with the alonso's... y/nalonso Family Vacation🤪😜👨‍👩‍👧‍👧 user2 THE EMOJIS ARE ACTUALLY TAKING ME OUT

alex_albon can't believe i missed this... 😔

lilymhi Hello...? you were with me.. franalo14 BROOO alexander if you dont treat your girl right I WILL 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 alex_albon @/franalo14 please get checked into a psych ward! you crazy bitch! lilymhi don't talk to my girlfriend like that @/alex_albon... you don't want my smoke user3 NOT ALEX CATCHING STRAYSSS HELPPPP y/nalonso Be nice, please....thank you😘...Lily please come next time, if Alex is bothering you I will talk to him🤬😡...contact my number🤪

fernandoalo_official Next time lets vacation alone...😏😘😳

y/nalonso 😲😏🥵 user4 what is this freakshow... franalo14 haha ending my life!! ilialo13 WHAT THE FUCK.

lewishamilton Breathtaking place! Thanks for the invite 😉

fernandoalo_official Lewis, let's go back- just you and me😏🥵 lewishamilton What are you entailing mate... user5 fernando 🚫 freaknando ✅

load more comments...?

-end of part 4 a-

stay tuned for part b of this! i decided to split it up :) another huge thanks to @eywas-heir

[bellewintersroe]

Sebastian Vettel x RBDesignEngineer! Reader.

Set in 2013 during the GP, Jennifer is fresh out of uni and has made a name for herself within the F1 world. She joins Redbull-Renault as one of their engineer designers and easily fits into the team, forming friendships easily. Most of all, she captures the attention of three time world champion, Sebastian Vettel. Part 1- just an introduction to the OC and situation, please excuse my inaccuracies about the 2013 GP and design engineering im not a pro and was like 11 back then 😭😭 here’s the LINK to part 2.

Australia, March 2013…

“And here… right through here is… our youngest, and my personal favourite design engineer. This is where all the magic happens.” The sound of Sebastian’s German accent caused my lips to lift as I took my head set off, spinning around in my chair. Sebastian was walking alongside a camera man, touring around the garages. It was pre practice day, only two more days and the 2013 GP would begin. Although I’d been hired for Red Bull back in October of last year, it had taken 5 months to get to this point of merciless training and shadowing to ensure I was good at what I was doing. The Red Bull driver made his way over, resting on the back of my large chair with an amused smile. “Hi.” I nervously giggled, pushing my hair behind my ear as my headset fell around my neck. “This is Jennifer, do you want to tell them what you’re doing today, Jennifer?” The use of my full, formal name was sending me slightly giggly as I gazed up to the blonde man. Maybe it was just him making me feel that way…

“Um… so, to put it in simple terms so it’s not so boring, we’re just checking all the components of the RB9’s- what Sebastian and Mark will be driving- to make sure we don’t need to make any last minute changes.” “And what’s your name again?” The camera man asked. “Jen, I never go by Jennifer.” I laughed, glancing back up to Sebastian again. Whenever our eyes met I found myself struggling to keep composure on camera. “Tell then a bit about yourself.” He then nudged me on, grinning down. He could tell I was getting flustered, but continued purposefully. “Nobody wants to know about me!” I laughed, attempting to spin my chair back around in embarrassment. Hiding behind my computer for the first two weeks was my safe haven, that’s what I’d reverted back to. “They do!! Tell us, how did you get into your position?!” Seb spun the chair back, sliding a hand down onto my very ticklish shoulder, squeezing as both my shoulders jumped up with a giggle.

“Sorry.” Seb breathlessly laughed. “Um- well I started here in October, I just finished my masters last year at Manchester in Motorsport Engineering- um… Im 22- I don’t really have anything else very interesting to say! Uh- I suppose I had- just had experience from working part time with my brother who’s an engineer when I was like… 15.” I explained.

“Clever girl.” Seb responded as I automatically gulped in response, looking up to him and awkwardly glimpsing back to the camera. I didn’t know how to act with that in my face. “And what’s this?” The camera zoomed closer in on my second screen, it was just information about F1’s plan to go electric next year and use Hybrid engines, but it contained private information. My hand flew up blocking the screen dramatically, “oh! Sorry, that’s a secret!” Seb burst out laughing. “Oh no!” I laughed, “don’t worry I’ll cut that.” Luckily the camera man turned away as I sunk back into my chair. I really hoped I didn’t leak some super, confidential information about Red Bull or I’d be facing the sack a mere half year into employment.

Sebastian flashed me another smile and squeeze on the shoulder before following the camera man and showing him around some more. When they left I let out an internal sigh. I’d known Seb for the same amount as everybody else here, but I just felt this immediate warmth to him. Once the intimidation had worn off (even now I still felt it) I could tell there was an instant attraction. At points it felt mutual, Seb would openly flirt with me, tease me, I know he was a charmer, but I couldn’t tell if I was being delusional or not. He was cuddly, funny, he always looked so deeply into my eyes whenever I explained something to him. I wasn’t sure how I’d deal with the feelings that would keep me on edge for a full season. The worst thing about it??? I had a boyfriend.

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

Oh what about a cheating smut fic where tony is married to pepper and he starts to have a sexual affair towards his daughter morgan's hot babysitter, reader

Babygirl

Friday, 4pm

I check the time on my dainty Cartier watch, walkin in circles around my squad as I zero in on every move, every flip, and every damn high kick. They're phenomal as ever, still I need to make sure we're on point for the next game. Squatting low, I assess how one of my girls back up and shows that flexibility by bending backwards with palms outstretched to the ground. She ends the number with a smooth sensual backflip into the splits, ofcourse poppin each ass cheek individually. I cheer and ofcourse give my girl, along with the crew, a standin ovation.

"Excellent muthafukin job per usual, owwwww!" I mimick my bitch Cardi and I clap for my amazing team.

My cell rings from the bleachers a few feet away. Im tired, plus that might be Mr. Stark and I know better than to ignore; it's definitely time to call it a day.

"Listen up my beautiful people, we done for the day. But, side note, please don't forget to team up with your cheer buddy as many times as needed before the game to make sure each of you got the routine down pact. If you have any questions, hit my line. Aight y'all."

A few hugs goodbye and smacks to my rear, I'm able to grab my phone and check my missed calls. Fuck.. The butterflies in my tummy are instantaneous as I read 'Tony Stark' across my screen. No matter how many times he calls it never fails to make me wanna squeal and do a few back flips of my own.

I hit the send button and redial him as I chew on my bottom lip nervously. It only does half a ring before his sexy voice speaks through the phone.

"Hey, there's my other favorite girl. Where are you? You busy?"

It's just like Tony to be all in my business, even though he was my employer, not father. There wasn't a thing he didn't know about me after being Morgan's babysitter for over 3 years now.

"Why no, Daddy, I'm not busy." I tease him with a giggle. "I'm at uni right now. Just finished practice. Why, wassup?"

The silence lastin just a second too long before he clears his throat and answers.

"You uh.. Just finished cheer practice?" He repeats slowly.

"Yeah, literally just a second ago. Gonna change and head home. Why, you need me?" I ask concerned.

"I do honey, need you to come watch Morgan for the weekend. Peppers outta town for business and I'll be here but not here. You available for me pretty girl?"

The way he speaks to makes my heart wanna dive out my damn chest, especially when his wife's not around. His already pampering nature amplifies he and doesn't seem to able to resist calling me those sweet lil nicknames that make me weak in the knees.

"Yes Mr. Stark. Always, anything for you." I breathe back, thighs clenching at the way the tone of his voice is starting to get me aroused.

"Perfect. And call me Tony, you know better honey." He gently scolds. "Anyway, I'm sending a car to come get you immediately."

I hear him snap his fingers over the phone and assume that's his way of sending me a ride.

"But I'll need to go home and grab a some things to stay for a few days." I remind him.

"No. I want you here as soon as possible. I already have someone on their way to you." His response leaves no room for argument, so I don't even bother.

"Ok then, catch you inna minute. And tell Morgan I can wait to see her."

"You got it babygirl. See you soon."

I hang up, grabbing my Nike backpack and head to the pick up area in front of the school. Fuck, another weekend with Tony Stark. Let's see how long it takes before I drench my panties when I get in his presence this time.

45 mins later

I arrive to Tony's mansion relieved to finally get to see my 2 favorite people in the world. They're waiting for me at the front door with big smiles, Tony holding Morgan on his back. She lightly kicks outwards to get free from her father. He happily sets her down and she runs up to me excitedly wearing the cutest ladybug bathing suit. Wrapping her tiny arms around my waist, she hugs me affectionately. I bend and hug her back just as tight and tell her how happy I am to see her.

"Daddy says your staying all weekend, is that true?" She inquires, nose scrunched making her the spitting image of her father.

"Yes, I am. Us girls are gonna have a blast. I was thinking tomorrow I could paint your nails and then maybe you could paint mine? I'd love your help picking out a cute color, what do ya think?"

"Let's just go get a manicure." She rebuttals smartly, taking my hand and dragging me to the front door. I barely have a second to grab my backpack!

"Or there's that." I laugh and wave goodbye to Tony's driver as Morgan pulls me past her father to the pool.

"Guess Daddy will catch you guys later." Tony chuckles, watching us amused.

"Guess so Daddy." I don't get a chance to catch the way his nostrils flare a bit or how he licks his lips at my statement as he watches his daughter steer me away.

Her and I have a blast in the pool for a couple hours, Morgan even more so as I sit on the edge with just my feet in. She shows me how well she's gotten a swimming since the last time we saw each other. It's beyond obvious her practice is paying off; my best lil buds gonna be ready for competitions in no time.

After, Tony brings us hot cheesy pizza for dinner as she grabs his laptop and shows me how to do the newest tik tok dance challenges that she and her friends like the most. We lay by the pool eat and laugh together as all the goofy and cool new trends come up. It just surprises me that a young girl can navigate the platform so efficiently. The smartie pants even makes me an account so I can keep up with what she's up to.

"Alright, little girl. Its 7:30, time to go to sleep. We'll do a bath in the morning. Go brush your teeth and get into your pjs. Daddy and I'll be by to say goodnight when your done."

The good girl that Morgan is, she kisses my cheek and skips off into the house. I quickly clean up our mess and head off to search for Tony.

When I find him it's 7:45 and he's laid out on the couch in one of his dens, arm thrown tiredly over his face. I think he's asleep from his even breaths, the calm rise and fall of his athletic bare chest. Fuck he makes my mouth water the way he lays with his legs spread wide, wearing only a pair of soft cotton light grey sweats low on his hips. His toned tummy and the thin line of his happy trail entice me to come closer for a better look and I'm right behind him in an instant. Goddam the bulge of his cock looks girthy as fuck.

I reach out and lightly massage at his shoulders, bending for just a moment to whisper at his ear.

"Its time for Daddy to go say goodnight."

Tony removes his arm and gazes up at me tiredly. The short low groan helps activate the already swirling storm in my gut. There's no way my panties aren't wet.

"Ok, honey. Let's go." Sitting up a few inches before pausing as Jarvis begins to speak.

"Actually Mr. Stark, Morgan has been asleep for 3 minutes 26 seconds. I predict she will not be awake for another 10 and a half hours sir."

"Thanks." Daddy relaxes into my touch again before speaking again.

"Hey Jarvis?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark?"

"Take a walk."

"Yes sir."

There's a quiet beep signaling the AI's exit as I continue to massage Tony's strong shoulders.

"Come here, beautiful. Come sit on Daddy's lap, let's talk." He requests gently.

I know we've been crossing some kinda boundary the way we speak to one another, but if I do as he asks this'll be a clear violation in his marriage. I don't wanna cause harm to Tony in any way, in fact I ache to make him happy however I can. That desire in itself is probably what has me toeing of my shoes and plopping my round ass cheeks right on his dick before I have another thought.

He's half hard and I'm baffled how I didn't notice because he's already so thick. The first press of my pussy against it has me biting my lip and pushin again and again to mimic the pressure on my clit. My breath puffs out as I hold back a moan at the feeling. Christ, I'm throbbing in need and I've sittin in his lap for a total of 5 seconds.

"Did my 2 favorite girls have fun?" Tony asks seemingly unaffected..

Except when i squint it seems his breath accelerates just a bit through his slightly open mouth, warm strong chest rising and falling just a fraction faster. His palms slide underneath my skirt to the top of my thighs, tenderly rubbing in a circular motion as I lightly hump at his cock.

"So much fun, Daddy. I'm kinda tired though, long day. Obviously not long as yours. You look exhausted. You ok?"

He only tilts his head and offers a small shrug.

"I kinda feel better now that I get to see my little cheer captain in her sexy uniform." Tony leers up at me with a smirk before winkin, making me bust out in laughter.

"So how's classes sweetheart? You doin okay?"

"I am, first semester was a bit difficult but I got the ropes now. I'm a fuckin superstar." I brag with a smile.

"That's great honey, glad to hear it." He replies warmly, rotating his hips in circles against me.

"Still don't ever forget that I gotta blank check with your name on it. Matter fact, you're not leavin here this weekend without it. Got it?" He asks sternly, lookin directly into my soul.

"Yes Daddy." I answer without a second thought.

"Good girl." He praises, moaning low in his throat at my swift movements.

"Well.." I lean forward till our lips are almost touching and look deep into his pretty eyes. "What can I do to make Daddy feel better?"

Tony breaks first. He roughly presses his lips to mine, sucking and kissing as he holds me in place with one hand on the back of head. The other hand grips my thigh firmly as he dominates our kiss passionately. His fine ass licks into my mouth while groaning, sucking on the tip of my tongue as I moan loud and frantically crush our pelvis' together. He gives me one nip to my lips before speaking against them.

"Make Daddy cum, sweetheart."

"How?" I ask nervously, pulling back to look into his hazy eyes.

"Any way you want gorgeous."

My hips come to a halt as I think for a moment before sliding off his lap to my knees and greedily soakin in the growl he emits when he notices the wet spot I left on his crotch.

Pulling my medium sized perky tits through the designed slit at the bottom of my cheer top, showing him stiff pierced nipples. A small slim chain hangs between my breasts, connecting the 2 piercings. I shake my titties at him, smiling at his hypnotized glazed stare at my supple chest.

"Fuck my tits." I demand, slightly dipping my head forward to let a generous glob of spit splat between them.

There's no need to ask twice as Tony hastily snatches his dick from his sweats and slides it between my round brown orbs. He relaxes back into the deep navy blue sectional while I press my breasts together to surround his thick shaft and begin with slow strokes. Biting those delicious lips, his head dips further into the couch as he watches me through slits. Daddy looks so fucking good as he fights the pleasure enveloping his dick.

"Hoooooh, fu- AH! Jesus y/n, feels so good. Thank you, pretty girl. Ohfuck! Just what I needed. Mmmm.. Yeah, yeah just like thaaat.."

His arms hang limp at his sides as he lets me unravel him. Poor baby, his eyes don't know where to look, darting from my dark nipples to his big fat dick stabbing up through the swell of my breasts. I take a mental picture of the way he loses his mind in my body, hips coming up erratically to meet my downward thrusts.

"You like slipping your fat cock between my titties, Daddy?" I ask innocently, squeezing his dick a bit more firmly.

"Ah, ah, yes babygirl! N-never felt this gooood!" He sputters back to me.

"Glad you're enjoying yourself. Though the other option was to lay on my back, spread open my legs and wet little pussy to you. Let you be the judge of which hole of mine you wanted.. first.."

I speed up my slippery tits, fucking his twitching cock from base to tip at a quick steady pace. The spit turned out to be the perfect lubricate as he easily plunges his dick between my tits.

"Oh fuck little girl, so goddamn perfect for me- haaaashit! Ahhaaaa, fuck! Ohmyfuckinggod y/n want that so bad. N-need to fuck every inch of you honey.."

His hands ball into fists as he widens his stance, giving me ample room to work. Those gorgeous eyes roll back into his head as he gasps at the sensation building in his groin.

"Yes, yes, yes! Please! Letmefuckyouhoney! P-please, need to cum y/n. Aaaaaaahfuuuuuck! Haven't cum in months. Pleasepleaseplease, will do anything sweetheart!"

Now completely understanding Tony's absolute desperation, my cunt flutters as his pleas to feel my pussy double and rise in volume. I slam my tits onto his dick repeatedly, loud wet smacking intermixed with his sobs.

"How long Daddy? Exactly how long since you sprayed your thick milky cream outta this big fat ass cock?" I ask, leaning to give kitten licks to the wide flushed tip.

I moan animatedly at the taste of the salty precum dripping from his leaky dick. It's so fucking addicting that I hungrily slurp on the head of his dick. His abs ripple as his body trembles through the onslaught.

"Almost a-Haaa! FUCK! Almostayeeeear! Ohshitohshit, gonna c-cum babygirl!"

Fuck that's way too damn long, so I resolve to not make him wait a second longer to fill up a wet and willing pussy.

"Yeeees ah, ah, ahhhh- wait! What the fuck?Come back here little girl!"

I giggle as I duck away from his hands swiping to pull my back towards his equally enraged dick. I scoot back on the plush white carpet, pulling off my squort and parting my shapely cocoa thighs. He's so immediately entranced at me spreading my pussy lips with one hand as I crook my finger and invite him over with the other.

"Oh fuck me, thank you sweetheart. Love you so much babygirl, you don't even know. Your my perfect girl, wish you were my wife instead honey."

I don't know if Tony knows he's speaking as he clumsily takes his place between my legs but the admission warms my heart.. And my pussy. I kiss his neck and hold him tight as he thanks me profusely for letting him inside.

He aims his dick at my pulsing little hole, tapping my clit twice before slipping about an inch of his dick inside. I keen at the stretch, whining and pulling at him for more but apparently that's all Daddy needs. Slamming his eyes shut, he hunches over me going completely feral and unloads months and months worth of frustration into me.

"Yea-eeeees, little girl! Lemme breed my favorite girl. Haaaaa fuck! Feels like heaven, cantstophoney! Ah, ah, ah, so gooood y/n. Love you much! So so so much!"

I relish how fucking whiny he becomes as he releases heavy splats of cum against my walls. The pressure of his load makes me moan like a whore underneath him as he holds me to his carpet by my shoulders and gives us both what we need.

"That's it Daddy, fill me up. Make me take your cum. I want all of it, yeeeees! Don't waste a drop, gimme my cream pleeeeease. My wet little kitty wants to drink up a thick dose of your milk Daddy, gimme!"

The force of Tony's nut stuns him but his fluttering lid reopens as he gazes at my face. Even through his flismy focus he stares at the sloppy saliva spattered on my tits and tummy down to where his dick splits me open wide.

It's my turn to become distressed as I hump at the rock hard cock dripping the last few drops of his load into my greedy cunt. Neither of us hear the front door open in our opposite state of minds; or the footsteps clicking towards our location.

"What the fuck?!" Peppers deranged voice echoes throughout the dim den making us jumps, the cock piercin me unintentionally stabbing a few inches deeper.

I wail in fucking pure delight, nails scratching down Tony's back as he immediately seethes at her entrance. It's clear he's not happy she interrupted our private moment. Still, his dick remains stiff as fuck inside me.

Lookin up at his wife with disdain, brows still pinched from the feeling of my pussy clutching at him hungrily, he demands that she leave.

Maybe it's time for Daddy to get a divorce..

[bellezaycafe]

Get Your Shit Together - Part 2

context: Sadie volunteered for the 2024 Melbourne GP during a gap year away from uni. She is 20.

Part 1

Comments; i’m tempted to make this a series… I have some stuff drafted?

“Charles!” The reported called him over. “We’ve just found out that you’re first! How does that feel?”

“I mean,” he chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. “I just found out myself, we all did. I’m still shocked! I don’t know what happened with the penalty or the flags, I’m just happy to have another win!”

“You were only just told that you won?”

Charles laughed through his, “yeah!”

After a small pause he added, “I think a volunteer was given the standing from the FIA. She told us, and told some of us off for complaining.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“We were all pretty annoyed by the penalties; the race ended half an hour ago and we were only just being told. It is frustrating, we are all frustrated."

Oscar Piastri's Interview was similar.

"That was very well done out there, Oscar. How does the P2 in your home race feel?"

"I'm still trying to process the fact that I scored a podium in my home race. It's an incredible feeling."

"Do you agree with Charles about the FIA handing out penalties so late?"

"Yeah," the Australian answered without hesitation. "Frustration is the right word for what we're all feeling."

With a nod and a thank you, he handed back the micrphone and walked away.

Lando stepped up.

"Congratulations," the reporter began. "That is another double podium for McLaren, how does it feel?"

"I'm gonna be honest, undeserved. Don't get me wrong, I think I did well today and I'm proud of Oscar and our team, but I didn't cross that line in third. I don't know the full story about Max's penalty but it just seems undeserved, you know? He should have kept the win. I should be P4, not Max. The FIA needs to sort it out."

"Wow, that's a strong opinion. Will you get in trouble for saying that live?"

Lando shrugged and pursed his lips. "If I do, I do."

His PR manager pulled him away before he could say anything more incriminating.

Then Max stepped up, still fuming.

"Max," the reporter began.

"I know what you're going to ask," he interrupted. "Yes, I'm upset about the penalty. Gasly passed me under yellow flag conditions. I was told that I was allowed to take the position back. It is an unfair penalty."

"Charles told us that a volunteer told all the drivers off for complaining. Surely you have a right to complain?"

Max let out a surprised huff of laughter. "Charles is being Charles! That volunteer told me off. I blamed her for the penalty and she put me back in my place. Volunteers don't dictate penalties and can't change them."

Max shrugged and moved to hand the microphone back to the reporter. She held up a hand to ask one last question.

"Do you think the FIA should revoke the penalty?"

"Yes. The FIA shouldn't have given me a penalty and they shouldn't have handed it out half an hour after. I think that all of the drivers are sick of being told what place we finished well after the race."

"Thank you for your time, Max. It was still an incredible race."

He nodded his thanks and moved on.

It was the same reply over and over.

We are tired of the FIA handing out penalties well after the fact.

We are frustrated.

We are annoyed.

We. We. We.

Sadie never watched any of the interviews. She didn't realise the impact he'd had on the drivers.

As she wiped a hand across her sweaty brow the next day, she wondered if they had said anything. She was about to ask her friend, Aurora, when a shadow fell over her.

She turned to see Max Verstappen.

"Hi?" She frowned.

"I'm sorry" he blurted, squeezing his eyes shut in mortification at his slip up.

"What?"

"About yesterday," he muttered, opening the crystal blue eyes. "I shouldn't have tried to intimidate you."

Sadie laughed and put down the tent peg she'd been using to remove other tent pegs. "The key word there is tried."

Max smiled at her laughter. He chuckled a little and stared down at his feet in the dirt.

"But," Sadie continued, "thank you for apologising. I didn't take it to heart. You were trying to win every reason this season and break another record. Yesterday, you lost that and it made you angry. I know, so it's okay."

Max's eyes widened at her nonchalant statement about his goals.

"What?" she asked impatiently. "I figured out your goal? It wasn't hard, Verstappen."

"No, it's not that."

"What, then?"

"You had already forgiven me?"

"Yes, I forgave you the moment you left the room. You were angry and that was your response to the anger."

"That doesn't make it okay," he pressed. He didn't know why he was pushing her, she’d already forgiven him.

"Which is why you will never do it again." She pointed a dangerous finger at his face.

"Okay," he chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Good. Now I’ve got things to do and you probably have somewhere you have to be.” Sadie pointed at the gazebo and then the bag it belonged it.

“Right, yes. I have a flight in a few hours, so I need to get to the airport. Have a great day, yeah? It was amazing to meet you.” He stepped backwards, with a thumbs up.

“It was honour to meet you too Max Verstappen. Never forget who you are.”

Max had to take a deep breath as he strode away.

Never forget who you are.

You are Max Verstappen the world champion, not Max Verstappen the upset child.

He made a promise to himself then, and to Sadie, that he would hold himself to a higher standard. He could be better, he should be better, he would be better.

——$——

Masterlist

[geekwritersworld]

BEARS AND BABIES

pairing: Henry Cavill x y/n (gender is specified only in a few places)

Warnings: fluff, a breakdown of sorts

summary: as stated in the request.

A/n: so i received this request months ago. I only got to work on it now since I moved to another continent, basically, for uni. This was my first time moving away from my parents and adjusting to life in Germany, so it took me a while to get back on my feet. But I'm here now :)

Feedback, reblogs and comments are more than appreciated, it keeps ya writer motivated💛

Henry had been travelling quite bit for the last few months- venturing beyond his comfort zone, auditioning for roles he wouldn't normally do.

There were other projects, besides acting, he was working on that he was incredibly enthusiastic about. Which meant that Henry was spending time away from home quiet often recently.

While this was great for him, it did mean leaving his partner and child behind often.

That being difficult as it was, you then suggested that he take Kal with him so he atleast had someone while you had your daughter to keep you company.

Henry had insisted on leaving Kal with you and your daughter to protect you, but you insisted otherwise.

Emerson, your 2 year old daughter, was not very happy about this decision.

Henry had been gone for about a month and half. The first night spent without Henry and Kal, Emerson waddled around Kals bed and wailed. And when you picked her up to take her upto bed, she wailed louder and continued throughout the night.

With her eyes red and her nose dripping, she fell asleep sniffling, cuddled into your side while whispered that her father and Kal would be home soon.

You hoped she would feel better the next morning, but you could not have been more wrong. When she woke up the next morning- much before you that is, she began wiggling around on Henry's side, then she looked around the room and saw Kals bed near the dresser.

You woke up panicking, hearing your daughter wailing at the top of her lungs and immediately reaching to protect her before you realized she was trying to get off the bed.

So you groggily pushed the covers off of yourself and then proceeded to pick her up and walked towards where she had her eyes fixed.

You sighed when you realized she'd been crying over Kal this whole time.

You playfully gasped making her big watery blue eyes turn to you- her lips wobbling.

"You don't miss daddy? Just Kal?" You were pretty sure she didn't hear anything else you said besides Kal because at the mention of his name she began wailing once more.

Sighing, you cradled her and rocked back and forth hoping to calm her down.

Walking out of your room and into the kitchen, you quickly shifted Kals bed out of the kitchen with your foot when Emerson busied herself with sniffling in your neck.

"Let's have some breakfast, shall we?" Placing her on the counter, you moved towards the cabinets; intending to make pancakes.

The bowls and ingredients for your breakfast were set out on the countertop and you handed Emerson a wooden spoon to fascinate herself with; leaving you with some time to whip up the batter.

Your phone rung as the batter hit the pan making you curse at the timing of it all.

Your phone continued to ring while you made sure everything was fine with the pancake and quickly went over to where your phone buzzed.

"Look who it is!" you showed Emerson, your wide eyes emitting giggles from the little girl.

"Hi darling!" Henry's voice echoed through the phone and he smiled at the sight of the toddler's flour covered cheeks and giggles.

"would like to say hi to Kal-" before you could stop Henry, Emerson was already pouting with her eyes watering at the mention of the fluffy bear.

"Henry" you whined, setting the phone down and picking up your daughter; cradling her, explaining everything to Henry in a hushed voice.

"hang on" he raised his brows "she's crying for Kal but not for-"

"nope" you looked at him sympathetically.

Henry shook his head, smiling a little "well that's brilliant"

Cooing to her, you rocked side to side and looked back at the screen "Well no mention of the Akita till the two of you are back"

Nodding, you and Henry continued your conversation while the pancakes were devoured by the two of you, before eventually having to end the call when Henry was called back on set.

Distracting Emerson long enough to forget about Kal for a bit you placed her on the mat on the floor letting her fiddle with her big building blocks.

Smiling at the plastic block tower your daughter was creating you looked at your phone realizing it was already mid afternoon. So you left Emerson on the mat with her toys and decided to prepare lunch whilst cleaning up a little; peering into the living room every few minutes to make sure your daughter was alright.

The next morning you woke up to the doorbell ringing. At least it's not Emerson crying you thought. Sighing and glancing at your tiny toddler sleeping soundly on Henry's side of the bed- you pushed the covers off and hurried down the stairs, not wanting the person to ring the doorbell again; waking your daughter.

Upon hearing the click of the door as you opened it, you looked up to see a delivery person standing there.

You didn't order anything, maybe Henry had before leaving and it got here now? Confused; you asked him "Are you sure you have the right house?"

Re-checking he said "yup, says your address right here" he showed you.

Nodding, you took the package from him and signed the paper. Thanking him and closing the door, you carried the box over to the couch and put it down.

Getting a pair of scissors to open up the box, you hurried, knowing Emerson could wake at any moment and you were rather curious to get a look at the contents of the box and see what needed to be done further.

Neatly cutting through the transparent tape and opening the box, you saw something in protected in a plastic cover. So you pulled it out and cut open the packaging further.

Realizing it was a stuffed toy of some sort, it dawned on you, placing the toy down you grabbed the cardboard box it had come in and looked inside " ah! I knew it!" You muttered under your breath, picking up the folded paper from inside.

You recognized your husbands handwriting immediately, though you didn't need any further confirmation after seeing the stuffed toy identical to Kal.

Opening up the paper, your eyes observed the content.

"Darling, considering our daughter seems to miss the bear more than her own father, and seeing that she wasn't making it any easier for you with me being gone, I had a few friends work on getting a stuffed bear replicating Kal for the little one to keep her company while Kal isn't around. Please don't tell me off tonight on facetime :) Our daughter's unmissed father, Henry"

Chuckling at Henry's dramatic note, you placed it down and picked up the stuffed toy and headed upstairs to give it to your daughter.

You knew Henry wasn't actually hurt about Emerson only crying for Kal. Henry understood the bond the little girl had with the American Akita, that's not to say Emerson didn't miss her father, she did of course, but she took comfort in her mother being around. It was the same if you weren't around but Henry was, she would be alright as long as she had one of her parents there.

Pushing open the door of your room, you smiled kindly at the sight of your tiny two year old daughter curled up snug against Henry's pillow and the other pillows you had put around her to keep her from tumbling off the bed in her sleep.

The room was silent besides the sound of Emersons soft sighs.

Placing the stuffed bear next to Emerson, you decided to lay down for a while whilst waiting for your daughter to wake.

You fluttered your eyes open to the sound of excited squeals-knowing your daughter had spotted the plushie.

Before you could fully turn to look at her you felt the impact of her elbow on your chest as she fell right on you holding the soft toy version of Kal.

"oh hmpf-" You squinted looking down at your daughter. "KAL!" she screamed, her mouth right next to your ear.

Quickly moving into a sitting position, you gently moved your daughter and rubbed your ear before reaching for your phone.

Smiling and quickly typing Henry a message, you decided it was time to get out pf bed and get on with your day.

Picking up Emerson you put her in her playpen, making sure she was safe and secure and couldn't get out and hurt herself, you padded back to your room and got into the shower.

Your muscles relaxed as soon as the hot water slipped down your skin, and you let out an audible sigh, feeling refreshed. You made sure to be quick and 10 mins later turned the knob the other way and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself.

Once you'd put your clothes on, you immediately headed to Emerson's room to check up on her and make sure she was alright.

She was, as you'd guessed, busy with her stuffie.

You were grateful that Henry had sent her the toy, you for one would've never thought of it, and secondly, it kept your daughter busy which gave you more than enough time to get things done around the house without having to constantly carry Emerson around.

Pushing the last box into the shelf, you pushed your hair out of your face walked to Emerson's room when you heard your phone ring.

"hii baby" you cooed at your daughter while picking up your phone to look at the caller ID "look who it is!"

"DADA!" Emerson giggled reaching for the phone in your hand when your husbands face appeared on the phone.

Pressing on the answer tab, you let your daughter grab the phone " Hi sweetheart!" you couldn't help laughing at Emerson holding the phone in a way that Henry's view was his daughters nostrils.

Gently you pried the phone from her hands "hi bear" you feigned annoyance.

"no wait, I thought you read the letter"

you kept up the façade "oh I read the letter"

"Yeah bu- Hang on you're taking the piss out of me aren't ya?" Henry shook his head, smiling.

Letting out a laugh you nodded.

"Considering she had the fluff Kal's ear in her mouth i assume she's fond of it?" Henry asked.

"fond of it would be an understatement" you glanced at Emerson sitting with the bear on her lap.

"Oh and Hen, did you get the chance to look at the email i sent you?"

"Email? Love you know you can text me right" your husband teased.

You rolled your eyes "I know"

"Hang on, I'll check it now." you watched Henry tap away on his laptop screen with the phone set beside the laptop.

You followed his eyes scanning the email you sent him last night, waiting for him to react.

His brows furrowed "hang on, there's a picture" your heart raced.

Few seconds of silence later, Henry looked at you through the screen, his eyes wide.

Henry's voice was heavy, trying to process everything "Y/n, You're pregnant? we're having twins?"

Nodding tearfully, you said "I didn't realize I could possibly be pregnant up until 2 weeks ago"

When you'd started to feel nauseous more often than normal, you suspected you could possibly be pregnant. Henry had been gone for a month and half, the night before he left those 7 weeks ago you probably wouldn't ever forget.

However you were confused why it took you more than a month to realize you could possibly be pregnant, only for your doctor to confirm how normal it was to realize that you were carrying only a month or more into the pregnancy.

"Holy shit" Henry let out a breath, "twins" Henry was overjoyed, he couldn't be more excited about the addition to their little family.

But it overwhelmed him that he couldn't be there with you in person. He immediately began stressing about the fact that you were home alone with Emerson whilst being pregnant with twins.

He knew if he voiced his concern to you, you would play it off pretending you were perfectly fine. But your deepening eyebags, and dulling smile hadn't gone unnoticed by him. He noticed the way you constantly lost your train of thought, you'd phase out mid conversation, more often than normal that is.

Henry noticed the way you avoided answering his questions of how you were doing by immediately telling him of something cute Emerson had done the day before.

Moreover he hated that he couldn't do much about it so far away from you.

Henry and you spoke for a little while longer, mostly it was both of you practically bubbling with happiness about the news.

Once Henry had finished speaking with you, he immediately began typing out a message to a different contact.

The sun was beginning to rise as the wheels of the plane touched the ground.

The American Akita wagged his tail as he climbed down the stairs of the plane into the cool humid London air.

On the drive home, Kal rested his head on Henry's lap, while Henry looked out the window everything passing by.

He hoped he'd be able to convince you, considering you told him you'd taken time off of work, perhaps, you would agree.

When he finally saw the house in view, he thanked and paid the driver before getting out and grabbing his stuff.

It was almost 6 am; doubting you'd be awake, he pulled out the keys and quietly unlocked the door.

"alright boy, you have to be really quiet" Henry pet Kal's head who then quietly pattered to the couch.

Henry was exhausted, deciding since there was still time for you to wake up, he'd take a nap in the guest room.

He moved to the room, shutting the door behind him, he let out a sigh of relief when his head hit the pillow. Before long he'd dozed off.

When he woke sometime later, he worried that he may have woken too late when he heard his daughter crying upstairs and you trying to calm her down, so he decided to help out a little.

You couldn't understand why your little one kept crying and wouldn't stop. She'd been crying for almost 15 full minutes and you were on the verge of tearing up yourself.

Your head felt heavy and your eyes burned, you put Emerson down, which made her wail louder but you still heard it.

"I think I can help"

Whipping around, you broke down. Maybe it was the exhaustion of the last few weeks, or maybe it was the overwhelm of the new changes, or it was just the hormones, you didn't know what it was, but you couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

Henry moved towards you, picked up Emerson who calmed down at the sight of her father, and hugged you tight. Wrapping your arms around his torso, you wept.

"crap I don't know how you're home so early but I don't care either" your voice muffled was through your sobs, but Henry heard you perfectly and chuckled.

"I'm gonna put you down for a minute sweetheart"

"wha-oh" you realized Henry was talking to your daughter.

Putting Emerson on the bed, Henry quickly called for Kal who came into the room wagging his tail, and paused to look at Henry and you when he neared the bed where Emerson was trying to get down to get to Kal.

"You can get on the bed this once bear" Henry nodded at the Akita who immediately occupied the 2 year old's attention.

Turning his complete focus on you , Henry hugged you again, wrapping one arm around your waist and the other he placed on the back of your head, holding you against him.

He knew you hated crying which meant that now that you had calmed down a little you would try to pull away from him. Henry decided that later on he'd trying to talk to you about everything, for now however, he'd try to take your mind off of everything.

"Darling?" he said, still holding you, now the two of you were swaying a little, while Emerson giggled with Kal behind you.

"hm"

"You think we can name on of the twins Geralt?"

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

A second long lost parent appears and this is where I check out. I've made one small post before and I wasn't going to make another but for some reason I can't stop myself so here it is.

Go Ahead is good. I mean it is so good. I just finished episode 7. However, there's this pit in my stomach every time I watch it and honestly I don't really need that right now. To explain this I'm gonna get a bit personal so if you don't care just don't read.

My father left when I was in the womb. So that alone made this show right from the start perhaps too relatable for me. I'm a grown woman now and I don't think about it all that much to be honest but it's a whole other thing to have it shown back to me in series format.

Let me talk a little about episode 4.

This was when I knew I couldn't really binge this show. If I actually wanted to watched it all, I needed to take my time and choose wisely when to watch it.

See I have a half-sister, younger by about 12 years I think, from my father's side. I've met her exactly once, and after that, when I was in my twenties I got an email from my father saying his father had died and he made sure that in the same e-mail he made me feel like shit because apparently I didn't care enough about my sister to go see her or ask about her. Can you believe this shit? This was a man that left me and my mom, who I saw maybe 4 times total in my whole life and he had the audacity of putting that on me.

And the thing is, just like it's not Ling Xiao's sister fault, it's not my sister's fault. But to care about her would make my father happy and that was the last thing I wanted. So to see Ling Xiao have that exact same struggle was a lot.

Cause this is not an easy thing. This child has done nothing wrong. She's absolutely adorable, at first anyway, and wants a brother. Understandable. But it's what she represents. When Ling Xiao is helping her with homework, I can see him being completely split between wanting to be a good person, because he is, and not wanting to give his mother that satisfaction. This girl becomes an avatar and not just a little sister. There's a lot of reasons I've still haven't met my own sister, and really all the relatives from that side of the family, but one of the reasons I didn't at first, was that I didn't wanna project on her my issues with her father, because he was good to her. Why would I ruin that? And can I really separate things? At this age, probably, but at eighteen or in my twenties when I was first confronted with this? I'm not sure I could. I'm an expert in avoidance so we may never know. And that's what Ling Xiao is battling at that moment. He has a family, he has a sister, and although he understands on a rational level that this kid is his sister and he could have a relationship with her, there's just too much baggage to consider.

So after that I continued. I was only 4 episodes in and I honestly thought it was so well done. And I mean I did consider the possibility that this could happen again. God knows there's enough children abandoned in this show. But still I wanted to watch. The scene in episode 5 where Li Hai Chao is drunk and talking about his sons had me in tears. And those moments sustained me. Because this family is one of the most beautiful depicted families I think I ever watched. You can feel the love in every scene. I have my own 'brother' that I've known since I was 2 and that relationship got me through everything. So these 3 have my whole heart.

That is until the fried chicken in episode 7. Zi Qiu's father came back and I thought I was okay. Like it couldn't get any worse right? But then that whole scene with the guys eating the fried chicken and making absolutely stupid comments, and then Zi Qiu throwing it all on the floor and then... well pretty much everything in the episode after that...I was sobbing. It was a lot. I don't know about other people, but ever since I was a kid until I was in uni there was always a part of me that wondered. What if he came back? What if he had a good reason? Which is absolutely ridiculous cause eventually you realize there's actually no reason that would make up for everything. And Zi Qiu's father did come back and every time he opened his mouth, I wanted to scream at him.

The thing is. It's one thing to be over it, in this 'I don't really think about it a lot' kind of way. It's a whole other thing to willingly sign up for a reminder. Yeah I'm "over it" and I healed some but the scars are still there and I just don't need to be forced to look at them. I have enough triggers as it is and this is a long investment that I don't think I'm able to do right now.

I have absolutely no doubt this show holds up throughout, because this was a recommendation from @lurkingshan so I have no doubt about the quality. And maybe one day, when I feel more up to it I might try again but not right now. Maybe never. I'm not kind to myself enough as it is and it takes a lot for me to stop watching a show once I start. But this time I think I really can't do it. Maybe I will never watch it. And that's okay.

[circusjuney]

10 random facts about me!!!

thank you sm @flovoid for the tag my friend!!!!! <3

i am a singer!!! i grew up singing my entire life, and it's actually my dream to make at least one album. idk if i'll make multiple but i really want to make just one. probably some sort of rock album

i'm a horror freak through and through. i mostly only watch horror movies and tbh for a while i've wanted to try my hand at some horror sims content but i didn't want to make anything that might scare people off ghfdsg. btw my fav horror series are the v/h/s series and terrifier (except all hallows eve srry damien) ✌️

my favorite bands are system of a down, deftones, pierce the veil, mcr, radiohead, and i have another one but tbh i'm too embarrassed to admit it on the internet <3

bugs are a special interest of mine and i just enrolled in a zoology course at my uni to hopefully learn more about them :,) learning on my own is hard tbh because there is a LOT of misinformation about bugs on the internet so i wanted to properly learn in a school environment and i hope to someday work with insects!! bugs!!!! yesss!!!

i love clowns... this one kind of ties in with the horror fact tbh because i mostly love scary horror clowns!!!! they're just so fucking cool to me idk!!! literally some of my favorite horror movies ever are clown related like terrifier and killer klowns from outer space. also the luna clown from scooby doo can hmu whenever i'm free everyday

my username is circusjuney mostly just because i love clowns but also because of circus baby from fnaf!!! fnaf is another special interest of mine and i wanted a username that tied in some of my interests like that. however i've thought about changing it bc some people call me circus instead of my name 😭

my favorite color is orange bc it's the color of pumpkins and autumn leaves and halloween and it's all my favorite things! :,)

i am lowkey a musical theater lover but i really mostly love random songs from diff musicals and haven't had the chance to go through most shows all the way through except for waitress (my fav) and hamilton which i unfortunately can recite the entirety of 😔 in my final 2 years of high school i joined a performing arts program and spent half of everyday at a different school taking theater classes!! i joined the tech crew towards the end bc being forced to perform was doing numbers on me mentally 😝

my fav food is a breakfast sandwich <3 gimme a bagel or a brioche bun with some bacon and eggs and cheese and other fun stuff.......... eating that makes my hearts go up like in minecraft

and lastly um... idk...... i'm running out of facts........ the last fact is that............ ily <3 <3 <3 i am a pretty sappy person tbh and i have so much love in my heart it kinda hurts sometimes <3 <3 <3 so i'm giving it to you now so that it hurts less <3 <3

now im tagging @butteredfrogs @living-undead @youredreamingofroo @zleepyhollow @blueyjoy @mmonetsims @kuroashims if you've done this already or don't wanna just ignore!!!

also i feel so bad i have not been keeping up on tumblr at all bc i wake up play minecraft and go back to bed it's bad fhjdskgdasklgkdfj so sorry for my inactivity <3 <3 <3

[bonicle]

about the unity stuff

yeah so obviously fuck unity. like oh my god. I can't believe i have to learn godot after spending 3 years with unity. (2 of which was when i was learning it IN UNIVERSITY!) And just as i'm starting to learn to make actually cool stuff and beginning to code good BAM. fucking unity shit

On the other hand though, doomscrolling through the unity tag has led me to seeing loads of small games and MAN am i inspired now. i need to make something. something small. something weird! something with a story? something thats fun.

...and i can't because i am in uni for like another month and a half :] BUT... after that... i WILL make a small game that is cool. I don't know if it'll be in godot or unity (they will most likely revert the changes in a week) but it IS going to exist and it IS going to be awesome

[callsign-bunnie]

Omg I'm late but fnaf??? Fnaf pls???

Okay, so I am going to make art for this. But... I had no motivation to draw. I did, however, have the motivation to write. This was going to be one part. A... one shot if you will.

This part, alone, is over 5k words.

Ask for part 2 if you want it.

--

It had started with a post on a “less than legal actions” forum.

Rodolfo had found himself a frequenter on Deep Web forums. It wasn’t the place the media sensationalized it to be and… he had a few coping habits that got fueled by some of the substance websites on there. There was no better way to find the drugs he needed than some weird guy selling on a site called “Powders, Pills, and Concoctions” with a marijuana leaf next to it.

He had almost laughed when he saw it, believing it was probably bullshit. I’m a 19 year old, looking for other 19 year olds to break into the old Unquatrun Pizzeria with me. It was stupid! Rodolfo had just rolled his eyes and clicked out of it, moving on to the homework he had from Uni.

But then… it’d gotten stuck in his brain. Like a gnat, buzzing around, he’d found himself thinking about it three days later. He knew why he’d been drawn to it… Why his mind kept going back to it… The pizzeria was calling him, demanding he find out what had happened to his best friend.

Hey, so if this is bullshit, whatever. But… I can help you break in. The only response when he’d checked a few days later. Finally, he’d let himself check out the profiles. A soap bar was the profile picture of the original poster. He even referred to himself as Soap. He was like Rodolfo, apparently, and had even been on the previously mentioned drug site, having gotten hooked on pain meds when he was getting treated for cancer. 

The other guy was someone who apparently claimed to have first hand experience with the pizzeria on another post about it. He called himself Alex and apparently he’d been having nightmares about the place since he was 14. 

Even still, Rodolfo hadn’t found himself entertaining the idea. 

Until he’d gotten way too high one night and he’d just… migrated to the post and responded that he would go as well. 

Within seconds, he’d been added to a groupchat with the other two.  Are you serious about coming? -Soap

I am. I have my own reasons, but I am.

We’re going next Saturday. Can you make it? -Soap

Yes.

Awesome! What’s your name? -Alex

Rodolfo.

We’ll see you then, Rodolfo. 11:00. -Soap

And here he was. Standing in front of the pizzeria. 

He clenched his hands and then hugged himself, tucking them under his arms in an effort to stop shaking. He’d been, once again, trying to quit. He couldn’t keep living on this uppers in the morning so he could get through the day and downers in the evening so he could sleep… Cocaine and alcohol was his main vice, but he had found others that he kept around for a pinch. 

The building was exactly like he remembered it… Too much like he remembered it. Fuck, the local Pizza Hut looked different in the last five years, but this place was straight out of his memories… Same grey brick building, same red awnings, same Black Panther, Red Fox, and Rainbow Bear on the sign above the front windows and entrance… 

He shook it off as he saw two others approach out of the corner of his eye and turned to them. They were a strange pair. One was significantly taller than both Rodolfo and the other. Blonde and… built. Rodolfo found himself blushing slightly, trying not to look over his body too much. “Hey, I’m Alex.” He half grinned, offering a hand. “Rodolfo, right?”

“Yeah.” Rodolfo nodded and shook his head, trying hard and failing to not notice the scars across his wrist and arms when the sleeves of a black leather jacket rode up. He did look dressed to be breaking in somewhere, wearing a black leather jacket, a Led Zeppelin tee shirt, and dark wash jeans. 

Then, he turned to the other, who was only just slightly taller than him and had a ridiculous mohawk hairstyle. Look, it was the first thing he noticed. The second thing he noticed was how pale he was, how dark his under eyes were. If Rodolfo remembered the post, right, he should only be a year in remission… He had on a baggy hoodie and sport shorts and despite how shit he looked, he had a slightly husky build. “Hey, I’m Soap!” He grinned. “Or, Johnny Mactavish. You two are helping me break into a restaurant, you can know my name.”

“Right.” Rodolfo nodded. “It’s nice to meet you both…” He cringed back, feeling a bit out of place with the other two. He was a lot more put together, wearing brown academia shorts, a sweater, and his boots. He never thought he’d be insecure about not looking like a mess. “So… How are we doing this thing?”

Alex snorted and then something was jingling and Rodolfo’s eye was caught by a flash of silver. He saw Alex get out a set of keys and then he was just marching up to the glass doors at the entrance, which had three promotional posters on them. 

He recognized the three main animatronics on each of them. Ghost, an emo panther who sang mostly kid friendly parodies of 80’s rock. That one was particularly silly. Then there was Mateo, a red fox who could speak Spanish. Alejandro had loved that one… Rodolfo looked away from the poster before the cold could seep into his body. His hands were shaking enough, already. Then, the third, which Rodolfo didn’t get a chance to get a good look at before Alex was swinging open the door, was a Rainbow Bear, named Gaz, apparently after the owner’s kid. He was the main lead of the cast. Of course he was, it was always the bear.

They weren’t the only animatronics, too. There were three more, though one had been decommissioned for four years, apparently, due to a malfunctioning mainframe. 

Alex cursed as the alarm started to go off and then he was running to the back of the restaurant. Rodolfo was starting to wonder just how intimate he was with the place… Soap and Rodolfo stepped inside the restaurant and waited for the alarm to stop. 

“So… Why did you want to break in?” Rodolfo asked before he could really stop himself.

Soap shrugged. “I want a picture with the Panther.” He answered. “A cool picture.”

“Couldn’t you have came in when the daytime? I thought they had a photo booth thing with the characters?” Rodolfo asked, finding the explanation absurd. They were breaking and entering… For a picture??

Soap grinned. “They do, but it’s a man in a suit. I want it with the actual animatronic. I want it with the real Ghost.”

Rodolfo had to refrain from saying that the animatronic wasn’t real. He was just an… animatronic. That was it. Clearly Soap wanted a picture and… well, he couldn’t judge his reasoning too much. Or shouldn’t, because he most definitely was. Whatever. 

Finally, Alex came back to the front lobby, where the ticket desk was. The animatronics were closer to the back, past all of the games and tables. “Sorry, I had to go to the security office and input the code.”

Rodolfo became aware that the alarm was suddenly off and before he could ask how Alex knew the code, Soap was speaking. “That’s alright. Is there a way to get the lights up in here?”

“No. Unfortunately not. They’re on a sensor for the timer.” Alex sighed. “Only the man who owns the damn place has that code.”

“Damn.” Soap sighed, clearly disappointed. “It’s cool. Phones were invented with flash for a reason. Hey, do you think there’s any food? I’m starving.”

Alex shrugged. “I could check. I’m sure they stick leftovers in a fridge or something. Come on, let’s go see.” 

Rodolfo shook his head, wanting at least a few answers. “No. No. Dude, you have keys and the security code. What the fuck??”

Soap frowned and then turned to stare at Alex. “He’s got a point.”

Alex winced and then sighed. “You’re right. But… I don’t know. I found them in my mom’s desk. I didn’t even know she knew the owner of this place until a month ago… I… Apparently she used to co-own it with the other owner? John Price? I didn’t know.”

“How the fuck did you not know that??” Rodolfo crossed his arms, not buying it. You don’t just not know your mom co-owned a pizzeria where four kids went missing. 

Alex winced harder and rubbed the back of his neck. “I… Fuck. When I was 14, I had a really bad head injury. You can see the scars.” He got out his phone and turned on the flashlight, making Rodolfo realize he could only really see because of the streetlights outside. Alex held the flashlight up to his head, revealing what almost looked a puzzle of someone’s head who had been shattered. Fuck. “See?”

Even Soap was cringing beside him. “Anyway, I don’t remember much before… that. Apparently I had a whole other mom that I barely remembered. Fuck, I didn’t even remember that I was adopted. So… that’s how.”

Rodolfo felt kind of guilty, now. “Oh. Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. I understand how it could seem suspicious. But… I really don’t remember.” Alex sighed and then nudged his head in the direction of the kitchen, behind a buffet bar. “I’ll explain more after we look for food.”

“Fine.” Rodolfo nodded and Soap agreed, beside him. So, they both followed him behind the buffet bar and to the kitchen. Alex was using his flashlight to see, so Rodolfo used that to see as well, sticking close behind. This place… it kind of gave him the creeps. Though, it’d always had. 

Alex got into the fridges in the back of the kitchen. “Bingo.” The fridge he’d opened lit up and revealed a few pizza boxes, which Alex opened and glanced through before pulling out the middle one. “Soap mentioned liking pepperoni.” He glanced back. “What about you, Rodolfo?”

“Pepperoni is fine.” Rodolfo nodded, not having a preference as long as there was no onion. Though, he was pretty sure the pizzeria only offered pepperoni, sausage, bacon, and cheese. The main focus was really on the games and the animatronics. 

“Good.” Alex brought the box over and then he was pausing, going over to a nearby table. “Looks like one of the workers left a speaker.” He set the pizza box down and Soap tilted his head. “Oh, cool.” He fidgeted before something on the table was lighting up. 

It looked like a little camping lantern, though it was fairly bright. Alex shrugged and put his phone in his back pocket before he picked up the little lantern and then he was guiding Rodolfo and Soap out to the restaurant, again, and they found a table.

It was too dark to do much else than make out the animatronics’ vague outline and… a drip of dread rolled down Rodolfo's spine, making his stomach clench. Maybe this was a mistake… well, he was this far along. He jumped and looked at Soap, hearing something rattle. He watched Soap, vaguely lit by the camping lantern, open a pill bottle and then take three of them.

Rodolfo hated the way his hands shook more, the way his mouth salivated, and he looked away, sitting down at the table and opening the box. The pizza wasn’t half bad, he’d admit. Even as a kid… it was pretty good. When Mateo became an animatronic, they rolled out this taco pizza and while it was definitely not Mexican food… it wasn’t too bad. In fact, both he and Alejandro had enjoyed it.

“So, your turn.” Soap spoke up, staring right at him. “You may look put together, but you’re… still here with us. Breaking into a pizzeria and stealing food.”

Rodolfo winced. “Yeah..” He admitted. “I was actually really high when I agreed to do this… It’s… a long story.”

“I’m willing to hear it.” Alex shrugged, sitting next to him and nudging him. “You know… since we’re here.” 

Rodolfo blushed at his close proximity. He was only like this when withdrawing… Normally, boys weren’t even in his mind, but when he didn’t have drugs or alcohol… His mind looked for other destructive ways to cope. “I guess.” He nodded, since he knew the other two’s backstory already. Sort of. Well, he apparently didn’t know more than Alex and Soap… he felt bad about asking a cancer survivor why they liked a kids’ pizza place so much. The answer seemed kind of obvious.

Both of the others were staring at him and he found himself trying to shrink into his seat. But… he took a deep breath, ate a bit more pizza, and then he started. “My best friend loved this place when we were kids… His dad was really abusive and the owner of this place would let obviously troubled kids play games for free… And… it was a place to go to get away from the abuse, I guess. I actually outgrew it rather quickly. Then his dad died… And I guess it was a distraction…

He was really attached to Mateo, actually. Neither of us had any friends who spoke Spanish? So… and this was back before he was an animatronic. So… he really liked having something he could talk to that would respond back in Spanish… We were both second generation immigrants…” Rodolfo fidgeted with his fingers under the table, picking at the scabs he didn’t let heal around his nails. “On his fourteenth birthday… He wanted to have it here and I… we… fought? Over it. I just wanted to grow up… This place creeped me out and I… I was sick of being a little kid… So I didn’t go. He was one of the four kids that went missing.” 

Rodolfo looked down, not wanting to see the other two’s faces. They must have thought he was horrible. God knows Rodolfo did. “I keep thinking… What if I had gone with him? What if I had just… got over myself and gone? Would he still be here? I don’t know.”

The other two were silent. That was fine… He was used to that reaction. 

Finally, he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s stupid. But… I hoped that… maybe I could find out what happened if I came. Maybe… Maybe I’d find him, I don’t know.”

They were still silent and Rodolfo looked at them. Soap’s expression was almost shocked and Alex was looking away, staring down at his pizza. “You… You did it. You made a dude with cancer feel like his backstory wasn’t tragic enough. Congratulations, you are superior.”

Rodolfo snorted, “I feel like cancer-”

“No. I’m in remission.” Soap shook his head. “Damn. I just… the owner paid my hospital bills because I loved this place. I still have a card that lets me basically play for free. It never expires… I feel kind of bad breaking in but… Oh well. But… yeah. I went into remission last year.”

“Is that why you have that ridiculous haircut?” Rodolfo asked, again before he could stop himself, and gestured to the top of his head.

Soap laughed. “Yeah, so… When I had cancer… The only part of my hair that didn’t fall out completely from chemo was… that spot. So, I got it trimmed and kept it like a mohawk. Now… I let it grow crazy a little but… for the most part, I keep it like this. I know it looks ridiculous but… look at me. It’s pretty obvious I was sick… You guys should see my torso under this. It’s… pretty gross. Purple and gray… Surgery scars.. I had lung cancer.”

“Ah.” Rodolfo mumbled, now feeling really bad. Good job, asshole. “Sorry… It’s just…”

“It’s a bit much.” Soap shrugged. “I get it. Trust me. But… who’s gonna tell the kid with cancer that he’s ugly, huh?”

“That’s fair.” Alex finally spoke up, snorting softly. “We’re three peas in a pod, huh? We all have some tragic tie to this place.” He then sighed. “Odd that we found each other, but it makes sense. Who else would want to break in? Oh fuck-” He cursed, suddenly standing. “I left the camera in my car! Shit! Look, I’ll go get it, real quick. You two just stay here. Don’t eat all the pizza.”

“No promises.” Soap grinned and Rodolfo just mumbled that he wouldn’t. They both watched him fade into a vague silhouette, passing through the entrance door thingy and then going to the outside door. Then, he pushed on it and- the door didn’t open.

It was hard to see, but not hard enough that they couldn’t tell that the door didn’t open. Alex appeared to push a few more times before he was backing up and then coming back. “Fuck.” He muttered when he got back. “The doors won’t open.”

“Why not??” Rodolfo asked, another drip of dread rolling down his spine. “You unlocked them, right?” He shared a concerned glance with Soap.

“Well… it’s an old security measure, I’m pretty sure.” Alex winced. “The report I saw… said it was because of the kids that had gone missing. If the system thinks the store has been broken into… it locks down, completely, and won’t open without being unlocked from the outside. So, whoever got in, can’t get out without tripping the alarm somehow.”

“Fuck!” Soap groaned. “So, what? We’re trapped here until morning?”

Alex shook his head. “No. In Price’s office, there’s a place where we should be able to input a code. Then, we have sixty seconds to get out and lock the outside door. We’ll have to use the back door… So… there’s no point in doing it until we’re ready to go.”

Rodolfo was really starting to regret this. “I don’t know, is a picture worth this? Maybe we should just go.”

Soap shook his head. “No. I want that picture. If you two want to leave… fine. I will stay here all night, but I’m getting that picture. I’m… I am.”

Rodolfo stared at him, watching him glare down at the table. Then, he looked up at Alex. “I’m staying, too.” Alex mumbled. “I’ll get the code and let you out but… I’m not leaving. Price’s office should have the incident report about what happened to me. I need to know. I need to know why I can’t remember and my mom… won’t tell me. So, I’m staying.”

Rodolfo furrowed his brows and then he finally turned his head to the stage, where the outline of animatronics could be seen. Dread was steadily dripping down his back, and he would admit that he didn’t like this. But… well, he didn’t want to leave alone. And… he really wanted to find out what happened to his friend. “No. I’ll stay. But can we do this as fast as possible?”

“Yes.” Soap sounded relieved. “Yes, we can. Right, Alex?”

Alex immediately nodded. “Yes. Alright, let’s go up to the stage. I’ll use my phone to get that picture.” He picked up the camping lantern on the table and so Rodolfo and Soap both stood, following him up to the stage.

Rodolfo tried not to tremble as he followed them. That would be mortifying, though maybe he’d just blame it on withdrawal. He knew they had to have caught onto it by now… In fact, it had started to prickle at the sides of his face and he found himself scratching at them, trying to get the prickles to go away. 

“They’re so fucking huge.” Soap said as they finally neared the stage. 

Rodolfo felt small. The animatronics dwarfed him and that feeling was only made more extreme by the stage which was as tall as his waist. He shrank back, hugging himself. They creeped him out, really bad. He hated them. 

Rodolfo jumped back with a yelp as the stage lit up in bright colors and then three spotlights turned on, lighting up the animatronics with stark white light. The lights around the stage were red, blue, and green, and there were stars on the wall behind them. 

“Fuck,” Alex was holding his chest, but Soap was grinning. “I guess they don’t turn off the motion sensors at night. I guess they wouldn’t have to.”

“That’s fucking terrifying.” Rodolfo muttered, hugging himself again. 

Luckily, the animatronics weren’t moving, just staying in their rest modes, which were perfectly plucked from Rodolfo’s memory. Ghost had a microphone which was raised above his head and said head was lifted to look almost like he was screaming into it. Mateo had a hand out, the other hand on his chest, and he looked to be about to belt out lyrics, his mouth open slightly. And Gaz was holding up a peace sign, bent over slightly, and winking. 

The poses were so… human. But so stark. So uncanny. 

Alex and Soap had started to talk about something. It sounded like what pose he wanted to stand in. Rodolfo didn’t particularly care about it, just tuning it out and going over to Mateo, having to cross behind them to do so. 

He didn’t get too close to the stage, but he stood in front of Mateo, staring up at the animatronic. “¿Por qué eras tan especial?” He whispered. “¿Por qué te amaba tanto? ¿Valiste la pena?” Rodolfo didn’t think Mateo was worth it. He didn’t think that stupid fucking fox was worth losing his best friend. 

His hands shook so hard it made his bones ache and he suddenly felt so cold, despite being aware of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Nausea traveled up his body and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth. He needed to keep his food down… 

Finally, he opened his eyes, glancing over and seeing Soap and Alex were still talking. Soap was gesturing up to Ghost, and Alex was nodding along, his phone out. Rodolfo shook his head and turned back up to Mateo, looking over him again.

That fox had been in his nightmares, taunting him over and over and over. You let him go alone… He’d have come home… if you hadn’t let him go alone… But now you’re alone… Rudy’s all alone… Singing it over and over. 

You let him go alone..

You let him go alone…

You let him go alone…

Rodolfo ran to a trash can, which was close by, thankfully, and threw up, hunching over it as he did so. He grasped the sides of the trash can, trying not to think of how slimy it felt, and panted. His whole body was shaking, and he just felt so cold… 

“Hey, you okay?” Rodolfo lifted up, hearing Alex ask. He turned around, seeing Alex was staring at him. Even Soap looked concerned, though he wasn’t fully staring. Just looking.

Rodolfo nodded. “Yeah. Maybe cold pizza wasn’t the best idea.” He went back over to them, hugging himself again in an attempt to stay warm. “This place is kind of cold, huh?”

“Really? It feels hot to me.” Alex frowned, wiping his forehead. “They turn the AC off at night. It’s a shock the animatronics don’t fucking reek.”

Rodolfo frowned. Oh. He couldn’t feel it at all. Whatever. “So, are you going to get that picture?”

“Yeah, we’re just getting the staging right.” Soap nodded. “I don’t want to have to take too many.”

That was fair. Rodolfo hated having to take pictures over and over. He just let them go back to what they were doing, looking up at the stage, again, and looking over their poses, thinking how funny they were. Ghost was mid headbang, hunched over, Gaz was leaned back, appearing to be singing into his microphone, and Mateo had his microphone to his mouth, appearing to reach for the audience. 

Such silly, simple poses. Again, so human, but so stark… 

Rodolfo finally tore his eyes away and sighed, looking around the rest of the dining area. He paused upon seeing the large rabbit in the corner of the room. That thing just filled him with dread. It was horrid how large it was. 

He’d also seen videos of it moving and it was… too human. It almost reached the ceiling when it stood, and it was based off a velveteen rabbit. Even still, the way it walked was identical to the way his own mother walked which… was supposed to be the point. It was meant to be motherly but it just made Rodolfo nauseous. 

He didn’t even like the way it was sitting, slumped over like the actual stuffed animal might be. 

The funny part was… He’d used to have a velveteen rabbit. It’d been gotten for his older sister, Liliana, but… she’d hated the thing. So, he’d taken over it, since they shared a room. He couldn’t remember what happened to it… 

Rodolfo saw movement in the corner of his eye and quickly looked over, startling when he saw that Alex was helping Soap climb onto the stage. “Woah, woah, what are we doing? I don’t think you should be doing that-”

“Calm down.” Soap shook his head. “They’re deactivated, it’s fine.” He stood once he was up there, going close to Ghost. It made Rodolfo’s heart race, Soap shouldn’t be getting so close.

Soap settled so his back was against Ghost’s torso and Rodolfo tried not to beg him to get off the stage, shaking so hard his vision was getting blurry. He didn’t even think this was a good pose, since Ghost had his head back and you couldn’t even really see his face from that angle, especially with how big the animatronic was.

It dwarfed Soap entirely. Soap barely went mid torso for it. 

It was too big.

You let him go alone.

Rodolfo squeezed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths. “It’s way bigger up close.” Soap was saying.

Alex chuckled. “Yeah, they’re fucking massive. It’s frightening.”

Rodolfo hugged himself tightly in an effort to stop the shaking and forced his eyes to open, watching Alex move so he could get a good picture. “Throw a peace sign or something.”

Soap shrugged, doing as told, and then grinning. “Do I look good?”

“Hell yeah.” Alex nodded, also grinning. 

Rodolfo felt like he couldn’t breathe, trying desperately hard to not throw up again. He wished they’d hurry the fuck up, desperately wanting Soap off that stage. 

Movement out of the corner of his eye.

Rodolfo felt sweat mingle with the dread as it dripped down his back and he slowly turned to look. The velveteen rabbit was sitting up. “G-Guys…” He said, reaching for Alex and staring at the rabbit. 

“Hang on, I’ve almost got the picture.” Alex said. 

Rodolfo forced a breath into his lungs, continuing to stare at the velveteen rabbit. It was meant to look like Red Velvet cake, a joke. It even looked like it had piped cream cheese frosting on it’s head. A red velveteen rabbit.

But… now it only looked soaked in blood. The stage lights became too stark. They were shining in his eyes. He shielded his eyes from the light, blinking and trying hard to remember how to breathe. This was hell…

You let him go alone…

He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, relaxing when he saw the velveteen rabbit was slumped over again. He’d made it up. It wasn’t real. It was just his drug deprived brain tricking him. 

He sucked in a harsh breath and then shook his head, turning back to Soap. “Did you finally get the picture?” 

Soap was now hopping off the stage, still grinning. “Hell yeah.”

Alex held out his phone, showing Rodolfo. He didn’t like the way Ghost was staring at the camera. It felt uncomfortable. Rodolfo just shook his head, however, and sighed. “Awesome. Well… that’s one thing down.”

Soap nodded, and then suddenly tripped as he was climbing down, slamming his hands onto something on the stage.

It was very sudden. The animatronics started to move and ice spiked through Rodolfo’s blood, terrifying him. Even Soap seemed startled, all three of them backing up. “Oh fuck. I think I turned them on…” Soap winced. “Why would they put the on button there??”

“That is an odd spot.” Alex agreed.

“Hi kids.” Gaz was saying, staring right at them. 

They had motion sensors, Rodolfo knew that, but it was still deeply unnerving. Ghost and Mateo were also staring at them… He cringed back. “Turn them off.”

Soap nor Alex did as told. They just kind of watched the animatronics. “I like them.” Soap grinned. “They feel… human.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” Rodolfo stepped forward to press the button again, to turn them off, before yelping and jerking back as Mateo was suddenly crouched and in his face. 

“Hi! Remember me?!” Mateo almost appeared to be grinning and Rodolfo really didn’t like that. He tilted his head to the side and stared right into Rodolfo. His eyes were empty, they held no emotion. Just… massive balls of plastic. 

“Remember him?” Rodolfo asked, backing back up to Alex and Soap. He swallowed before continuing, hugging himself. “That’s an odd voice line…”

“They can recognize past visitors.” Soap nodded. “Another security measure, apparently. They hoped that if they saw whoever… took those kids, that they might point them out. It also made them feel more real to the guests.”

Rodolfo bit the inside of his cheek, digging his nails into his sides through his sweater. “Gross.” He muttered. “I don’t like that…”

Alex frowned. “Wait, but have you been here since your friend went missing?”

Rodolfo paused. “No. No, I haven’t… I avoided this place completely. Wouldn’t even drive down this road…”

“Then… how would it recognize you?” Alex frowned. “Wasn’t that security measure implemented after the event?”

Rodolfo… realized Alex was right. Oh, no, he didn’t like that at all. Soap snorted. “Maybe it’s a racist robot. I mean… I know white people who can’t tell Hispanic people apart. White people programmed it… It could be racist.”

Rodolfo wasn’t sure he believed that but… what other explanation was there? “I guess.” He mumbled. “Whatever, let's just turn them off.” He moved forward to press the button again.

“Remember me?” Mateo asked again, his foot moving in front of the button. “I’m here. Remember me? It’s me. I’m here. Remember me?”

Rodolfo jerked back as Mateo reached for him, staring at the animatronic. It almost appeared to be stopping him from pressing the button. “No. I don’t remember you.” He moved over, reaching for the button again and then crying out as his arm was grabbed.

“Alex!” He cried and then Mateo’s arm was reaching around him, pulling him onto the stage. “Alex!” 

“Remember me. Please remember me. It’s me. I’m here. Remember me.” Mateo was repeating and he pulled Rodolfo close to him, almost hurting him from the way he was hugging him. “Remember me.”

Rodolfo’s heart pounded in his chest and he kicked and shoved against Mateo. “Alex!” He screamed. Images of Mateo crushing his ribs ran through his mind, sending fear flooding through every vein in his body. 

“Mateo… We don’t just grab children. You know the rules, put the poor boy down!” Another animatronic voice rang through the pizzeria and Rodolfo was suddenly released and then he was yanked off the stage.

Alex almost was hugging him close, pulling him back. “Are you okay??” He looked down at him.

Rodolfo didn’t answer, looking at the Velveteen Rabbit, who was now standing. It’s eyes glowed bright pink and it started towards them, almost striding. “Alex, the rabbit!”

“Guys-” Soap said and nudged them both, pointing to the stage where Mateo was now climbing down.

“Price’s office!” Alex immediately said. “There’s an emergency shut down in there! They also can’t go in it!” He quickly pulled them and all three rushed away, to the back.

“No! Don’t run!” Mateo called after them. “Remember me! I’m here! I’m here!”

Rodolfo could hear his footsteps after them, loud and clanky, and Alex suddenly was dragging him harder. They ran down a short hallway and then Rodolfo was shoved into a doorway, tripping and hitting the floor. Soap hit the ground beside them and then Alex was slamming the door.

Mateo stopped just outside the doorway, staring into the window, and Rodolfo panted, staring up at him. “I’m here… Remember me. I’m here.”

Alex backed away after locking the door and all three stared at the door. The shadow of the Velveteen Rabbit suddenly crossed over what little light was coming through the doorway from the lights of the stage.

“Fuck…” Soap panted. “What do we do now?”

--

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[kashmiresims]

Hi Charmful, I really love your amazing neighborhood! It is fantastic to see the passion you've put in this project for about 17 (!) years! What advice would you give to someone who wishes to start their own custom hood with many subhoods and stories, like yours? What are in your opinions some do's and don'ts (be it about technicalities, gameplay or even mindset)? Thanks in advance and I apologise if this question has already been asked :)

No! You are completely fine, I appreciate the question. Very few ever ask me questions on my tumblr anyhow. I just go around giving this advice every so often when I see it asked about how to start custom hoods on the big TS2 Facebook Group or the Sims 2 Subreddit, haha! So, going into your own hood/subhoods project sounds really daunting and it's not a feat for the impatient or those that have a penchant for serial restarting playstyle. 1. Grow it organically. If that seems too loose of a perimeter for someone, they can always use a structured BACC as a springboard. One of my favorite TS2 Twitch streamers, ChocolatCitySim has built her amazing custom hood and subhoods up from a BACC. Here is an album of my hoods and subhoods showing them in 2015 and 2022 and the progress it made and even at present they look different than they did in 2022. 2. Create a solid set of sims or families you want to be the foundation population. They could be founders, you could have a headcanon of why they moved to town, or how they fit into the lore of your custom hood. These sims you will play for a long time, hopefully enough to see their children's children and such. My best advice is aim for 5-8 families and then sprinkle in some YAs (if you add a Uni right off) and single adults that are ready to mingle. Add new families and sims as you progress and as needed to grow your population. 3. Don't be afraid! Why is this important? Because Kashmire wouldn't be what it is today if I had panicked at every glitch, accident, or unintended situation that cropped up. It has actually enhanced my hood lore as the years have gone by. It makes for a unique story twist or quirk when something happens and you have to interpret or explain it away into a narrative or hood canon. Don't be afraid to start playing before the hood is 'done'; spoiler alert: a custom hood is never 'done' it might have a good few years stretch of you not updating anything in it until you need it but if you are like me and get the urge to go ham on hood deco after 14 or so years, it's gonna always be in flux! Obsessing with getting a custom hood 'done' before playing it is the quickest way to burn out and abandon your goal. Also, don't be afraid to completely chuck stuff you have downloaded or built and are not feeling anymore. Or re-arranging entire sections of your hood. In real life, civilizations grow and change and seeing that progress in your own neighborhood can be rewarding! You can even send sims you aren't feeling anymore off to another place, or make them townies, or kill them off. I've never played in strict rotation, I've lost sims to glitches, and I've bulldozed more than half my original builds to try and build or download something better.

4. Back to the building of it, I wish I had done it sooner but it's helpful to kind of know what zones of your hood are. Commercial vs Residential, vs greenspace use. Use hood deco to build up parts to make it look busier if you are going for a more urban hood or subhood but don't have a lot of playable lots yet. If you aren't a builder, download lots, there are so many good ones out there! On the same note of building, try to have your basic necessity community lots in every subhood so the sim doesn't have to travel through 2 screens to get a cup of coffee or go to a gym, but you can vary those community lots unless you want to simulate a 'chain' (a chain of restaurants, gyms, coffee shops). Then, try to also have some unique places in each subhood. Places your sims might want to go to impress a date, or dancing with friends, fill a want that comes up less often. I could wax poetic about all the different lots around Kashmire but to not exceed a response character count, I shant. 5. A subtle thing you can do is develop an identity for your different areas/subhoods. You can do this with themes, flora, deco, and even the sims that live there. 6. Let the stories come naturally and retcon what doesn't work anymore. After playing for so many years in Kashmire, stories develop in a variety of ways--most have developed through the gameplay aspect itself mixed with being inspired by lots or poseboxes or just fun scenarios I want to try to play and execute. If you don't have a stellar memory like I do (which is how I keep everything in order) document your play through notes and pics! Even just putting up little blurbs on your tumblr with a few pics can help you start a narrative and then use it to go back to reference. If not here, any blogging site, a forum, or any other place you can post will do! 7. Be choosy with your cc. Things will come along you will WANT but do you really NEED it? This is a good rule of thumb for any Sims 2 player honestly. 8. MAKE BACK UPS. CONSISTENTLY MAKE BACK UPS OF YOUR HOOD AND GAME. RELIGIOUSLY STORE THEM SOMEPLACE SAFE because your heart will break if one day your SSD melts and all your backups were on it and you don't have an amazing computer wizard husband to save your custom hood's ass. People always ask me 'How have you played the same Sims 2 neighborhood for 17 years?!' and my answer: BACK UPS. That's all I can think of off the top of my mind. Thanks for the question and good luck on your Sims 2 custom hood journey!

[dutchvanwinkle]

Mr Van der Linde Pt. 1 - Dutch x Reader

OK I’m working on like a bagillion things atm but I wanted to get something out before the years end to prove that I’m alive and writing (those of you waiting on requests I promise I will get to them) 

I’ve been sitting on this bitch for months and have a ton of ideas for it but I wanted to see if it was anyone’s cup of tea before I poured hours and hours into it but tbh i probs will either way hehe

Also I tried to make the location ambiguous but I’m a UK gyal and the UK uni experience is all I know so don’t shout at meeeee sorry  

Also pt. 2 this will be slow updates fyi. But I am nothing if not a completionist so it will get finished eventually 

Happy holidays to those celebrating! The fic is on ao3 if you prefer.

Summary: You meet John's father after your first term of university, and find your growing attraction to him difficult to ignore.

Word count: 8,248

Content warnings: Modern AU, age difference, alcohol, mentions of drug use

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

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You hated driving with John, he was far too reckless and half the time you were sure he wasn’t even paying attention to the road, but when compared to getting an overly expensive train or a stuffy coach, it was a no brainer. John’s warped view of the value for money, thanks to him growing up with an abundance of it, also played in your favour in that he refused to take any contributions for fuel. 

After meeting John at a welcome party for your student accommodation, you soon bonded over growing up in a similar area - his house was just an hour on the train from you.  

From then on, you’d often attend each other’s pre-drinks before nights out, and that soon led to you battling through your hangovers together the following day. You frequented his flat more often than your own by the end of the first semester, enjoying the company within it much more than that of yours. He and his childhood friend, Javier, had asked to be put together in their accommodation and he was always a lot of fun on nights out and super easy to get on with, and you discovered he’d taken the same course as you which saved you the worry of being alone in lectures. One of his other flatmates, Sean, had drove you insane when you first met him as he wouldn’t stop talking, but you soon grew to love him, too. 

Abigail was another of his flatmates, and he made the dire mistake of pulling her on the very first night; making the living situation unbearably uncomfortable for everyone else, especially when the two made the event an “accidental” reoccurring theme. It was no secret that she was smitten the moment she met him, but John being John and John also being a university student he had no desire to enter anything serious, even if he did like her more than he let on. 

You’d grown close to one of your own flatmates, Karen, and she often joined you on your trips to the flat across the hall, and after she’d drunkenly got with Sean on one of the nights out, being intoxicated became a requirement for her to visit the flat to calm her embarrassment. So, you all began smoking weed together on a regular occasion, and the small group became your favourite thing about university so far. 

Although you were already saving money by getting a lift most of the way home, the day that John had wanted to return for the Christmas holiday only had expensive ticket options for the final leg of your journey on the train, but two days later was much cheaper and he’d kindly offered you a place in one of his spare rooms. You gladly accepted, eager to see how nice his house was and spend a bit of time with his younger sister, Tilly, who you’d only spoken to over facetime but whose dry sense of humour you found hilarious. 

“Fuck, John, stop cutting people off,” you craned your neck backwards, watching the most recent victim of John’s erratic road presence throwing up the V’s at his car. 

“Stop backseat driving,” he batted his hand, but as always there was no irritation in his relaxed raspy voice, one that was getting raspier by the day considering how much he smoked. If it wasn’t weed, it was cigarettes and oh there he goes lighting another. 

“You do know this is why your car stinks, right?” you asked, cringing slightly at how careless he was even with his nice expensive vehicle. 

“You’re starting to sound like Abigail,” he scoffed, taking an extended inhale from the cigarette and blowing the smoke at you for good measure, laughing in that signature wheeze of his when you recoiled. 

Pushing the button to crank the window down, you leaned over and allowed the fresh air to fill your lungs now that you were back on normal roads. 

The pair of you soon reached a more rural area, and John cleared his throat when he pulled into a gated entrance. You gawked at the property, once John had used his fob to open the gates to reveal a driveway filled with decorative stone leading up to a gorgeous big house. 

“Shiiiiiit,” was all you could muster as you admired the beautiful brick and windows when you stepped out of the car. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismissed, flicking his cigarette and leading the way to the front door. 

You’d never seen a door so grand, dark wood that looked heavy and a golden lion's head holding the knocker. John fished his key from his pocket as you rang your fingers over it and didn’t care for your interest when he flung the door open.  

“’m back!” he called into the house, which somehow felt homely despite how large it was. It was only a few moments before Tilly came charging down the stairs and flung her arms around him. You smiled as the pair embraced, one of the few brother-sister duos you knew that didn’t hate each other. They were extremely close, and you’d found out after a few weeks the reason why. 

John’s mother had died when Tilly was only young, and your heart ached for the two kids but thankfully it brought them closer and they always had each other’s backs, with the guidance of their father, who had understandably been broken by her passing, along with their older brother.  

Tilly greeted you too, and you shook her hand as she bounced in the direction of the kitchen. “Dad’s in the back room watching the game with Arthur,” she informed the two of you as you followed in her direction. You’d heard a lot about Arthur, John’s older brother, and had the privilege of seeing a photo of him once. He didn’t live at the house, instead with his boyfriend, Charles, and if you’d have known he was going to be there today you might have made a bit more effort. 

You tried to be subtle as you took in the gorgeous room, black granite counter tops and high-end appliances only a backdrop for the big family kitchen that boasted an island in the middle with stools pulled up to it as it functioned as a breakfast bar too. 

As Tilly helped herself to something from the cupboards, you followed behind John to the adjoining room where you could hear noise from the TV in the form of a football commentator.  

You weren’t often nervous, not really, but something about this big house made you wonder what sort of man owned it and managed to make it warm and inviting while single-handedly raising his three kids. And when you saw him, lounged back on his sofa, wrapping his long ringed fingers around the neck of his cold beer bottle that paused on its way to his lips as his eyes landed on you, you had to gulp. 

And when your name rolled of his tongue, that voice so deep and rich, you tightened your grip on your bag and quietly sucked air into your lungs as you smiled at him coolly. That didn’t help either, just brought your attention to the faint smell of tobacco in the air mixed with cedarwood and some delightful cologne that you wanted to inhale even more of. 

But christ that’s John’s father you’re thinking about and you’re stood there like a moron and he’s waiting for a response. “Mr Van der Linde,” you swallowed. “Thanks for letting me stay, your home is lovely.” 

John tutted loudly at your ass-kissing display, but you didn’t miss him shrinking slightly when his father turned his attention to him. 

“I see you’ve not developed any manners while you’ve been away,” he tipped his chin down at the man who now gave off the aura of a boy, before looking back at you. “Thank you, miss. Please make yourself at home.” 

You nodded and swallowed again, hoping it wasn’t noticeable to anyone else but God your mouth felt so wet all of a sudden. He was John’s father, alright, in possession of the same rugged charm held by his son, but much more refined and much less boyish. He shifted slightly in his seat, propping his leg up on the L-shaped sofa that he’d claimed the corner of. You darted your eyes away, reminding yourself not to look between his legs but wishing you could because those tailored black trousers did wonders for him. 

“That’s Arthur,” John pointed lazily at the other man in the room, and you hadn’t even looked at him yet, but you were glad for something else to focus on. He was also a treat to look at, even more so in the flesh and you wondered what it was about this family that produced these kinds of men because you’d never encountered anything like it and now here you were in a room with three of them. 

“Nice to meet you, Arthur,” you smiled and the man nodded in acknowledgement, nudging his beer upwards slightly. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mr Van der Linde loosen the collar of his crisp white shirt, that’d been rolled up to reveal his forearms as a substitution for changing out of his work clothes to make himself comfortable. 

“Will the two of you be joining us, son?” 

You looked to John, part of you hoping he’d say yes but part of you desperate for any excuse to leave the room so you could breathe. John opted for the latter option, muttering something about being hungry and tired and wanting to settle in after the drive and Arthur asked when he planned on telling them all about his life at university, for him to just mutter later as he departed the room, and you quickly offered a smile to the two gentlemen before following him out. 

“I’ll let you pick a room before we get the bags,” John began the walk up the stairs and you grunted behind him. 

“Pick? You mean there’s more than one?” 

He shrugged, as he always does when he felt uncomfortable discussing his financial situation. Half the time, you thought he hated having money, but you supposed it was more his manifested embarrassment over how much it set him apart from other people. Nobody would guess if they didn’t know, both due to his mannerisms and his insistence on often wearing the same t-shirt for a week straight. 

“Well, where’s your room?” you asked, thinking that picking whichever was closest to him was the safest bet. 

John pointed up, before walking towards a door which when opened, revealed another small flight of stairs. “Mine’s the attic. You’ve got the choice of that one,” he pointed at a door in front of you to the left, “and that one,” he pointed behind you at a second door, before making his way up the stairs to dump the first of his stuff. 

You looked between the doors and decided to investigate the first one. It was bigger than your room at home, decorated in white and duck egg blue with a large double bed in the centre. The theme was the ocean, a beautiful painting above the bed depicting a grand ship on a calm sea. You’d be more than happy to stay here, hell a sofa would do you fine, but you still gave the other room a look even if out of pure nosiness.  

The second room was warmer, dark wooden furnishings with an accent of a pretty mustard colour. The double bed was tucked into the corner beside the window, looking out over the garden and countryside beyond. There was no theme to this room, but a few decorations appeared to be antiques. You dropped your bag by an old-looking gramophone and ran your finger over the brass horn, marvelling at something so pretty being hidden away in a spare room. You peered at the disc inside, making out Tchaikovsky in faded lettering and reached your hand out to turn the crank, but recoiled when you realised you’d probably end up breaking it. 

John’s feet thundering down the stairs prompted you to turn towards the doorway and he beckoned you to follow with the tilt of his head as he peered inside. You did, and the two of you made your way to the kitchen in search of food once your suitcase was safely situated in your room. 

“There any dinner on?” he called to the next room. 

“What’s it look like to you?” Arthur called back and John grumbled something about him being a smartarse.  

“Half time is in five minutes, we’ll just order takeout if you decide what to get,” Mr Van der Linde called, prompting John to reach into a drawer and pull out a handful of menus. 

“I forgot they even had paper menus,” you mused, leaning up beside John as you ran your hands over them to splay them out and get a good look. It all looked so good; you didn’t care which one they ordered from. “I’ll eat anything,” you announced and John huffed. 

“You always do this. Can’t you pick for once?” 

“I don’t mind! I could eat a horse I’m that hungry.” 

John just rolled his eyes and scanned over the menus before pulling two of them out and presenting them in front of you. “Choose between these two then, I’ve whittled it down.” 

You sighed, thinking that’s a fair deal as you looked between the two options: Indian or Thai. 

Both were delightful, but you knew John would complain if you didn’t make the decision. After a minute of back and forth, you decided the tofu guay tiew was the most appealing and vocalised your choice of Thai. 

“Dad’ll be happy,” he remarked, collecting up the other menus and unceremoniously jamming them into the drawer, “that’s his favourite.” 

At the small sense of pride that filled your chest, you cursed yourself internally. Something about the man made you want to please him, an odd sensation for you since you usually could care less what other people thought. Besides, it was just a takeaway for Christ’s sake. 

Shifting from the next room prefaced the two men that parted from it, expressions content and you assumed their team was winning. They were both so tall, because of course they were. 

“Are you staying for dinner?” Mr Van der Linde asked Arthur who nodded as he deposited the beer bottles into the bin. 

“Sure, I wanna hear all about little Johnny’s adventures,” he had a strong southern drawl, and proceeded to ruffle John’s hair who shoved him away in displeasure. 

“Did you let our guest choose?” Mr Van der Linde then asked, raising his eyebrows at his other son before glancing at you with a small half-smirk. 

John answered by reaching over the counter and handing him the menu, his eyes lighting up once he realised which one you’d chosen. “Good choice,” he hummed, not looking up at you and instead reaching into his pocket for his phone. “What does everyone want?” 

“We can just use the app,” said John. 

“No, I’ll call.” 

John’s sigh caused the man to harden his gaze.  

“It’s quicker over the phone,” he explained irritably. 

“Dad’s an EOP,” John informed you. 

“EOP?” Arthur repeated. 

“Enemy of progress,” John responded, as though it was terminology even a baby should know, despite he himself only learning it from you a month ago. 

“I am not,” the man grumbled. “Just don’t see the point of an app, is all.” 

You smirked at the back and forth as Arthur rolled his eyes. “Someone just order the damn food,” he drawled. 

Once everyone had ordered, including Tilly who it turns isn’t overly fond of Thai food but was quickly reminded by her father that she’d had free reign over the house and choice of takeout for three months, and it was only fair that her brother got to pick on his first night back. John teased her, saying that she’d become spoilt now that she was practically an only child.  

“It should get here in time for the end of the game if we order and you collect it, otherwise we’ll have to wait an extra twenty. Up to you.” 

“We’ll collect,” John answered without pause. 

“You students really that hungry, huh?” Arthur chortled. 

“I’m just excited to eat something that’s not instant noodles or beans on toast,” you hummed, thinking longingly about how much you’d missed a well-cooked meal. 

“Or instant noodles on toast, in your case,” John teased. 

At the looks of disgust directed at you, you huffed. “It’s nicer than it sounds!” 

“That a thing you do often?” Arthur asked, more than intrigued by the strange diet of a student. 

“Only when I fancy a change,” you shrugged and he scoffed, partially in disbelief and partially in amusement. 

“Well, let us hope that your meal tonight is slightly more appealing,” Mr Van der Linde slid his phone back into his pocket, beckoning Arthur to follow him into the back room as the commentator announced the start of the second half. 

You and John had left almost straight away to pick up the food, just to keep yourselves occupied, and thankfully it wasn’t long before you were back at his house and greeted with an already-set table including a couple bottles of wine. 

It was a bit of performance getting everyone’s correct orders to them, but eventually you were all seated. Mr Van der Linde was at the head of the table (of course) with Arthur and John either side of him, you sitting next to John and Tilly sitting next to Arthur. 

“Help yourselves to wine,” Mr Van der Linde gestured to the bottle of red and John didn’t need to be asked twice, pouring himself a large glass which his father eyed suspiciously. 

John side-eyed you and laughed at your pursed expression. “She has a uh... an aversion to red wine,” he explained to the table. 

You threw him a glare, embarrassed that he was bringing up your drunken tales from when you were learning your limits, even if you’re still yet to be mindful of them. 

“Ha,” Arthur barked, “I’d like to hear that story.” 

“Nobody is hearing that story,” you paused, “especially not while we’re eating,” you shuddered at the memory, looking at the delicious food in front of you and willing your brain to think about anything else. 

“This is proper wine, not like that shit you students drink,” Mr Van der Linde huffed. “Just try a tiny bit.” 

You obeyed, albeit hesitantly as you offered out your glass and John poured a mouthful in. Bracing yourself, you sipped it and tried to ignore the eyes around the table on you. 

It tasted rich, smooth and warm on your throat and nothing like that red wine you’d experienced at university which was more closely related to window treatment. “Oh,” your tongue lapped slightly in your mouth, “that is nice.” You held your glass out again for John to fill and Mr Van der Linde chuckled to himself. 

“I still want to hear some drunken tales,” Arthur took a sip of his own wine as you took another of yours. 

“Well, I have plenty about John,” you smirked, forking some of your noodles into your mouth and nearly groaning at how good it tasted. Tilly’s eyes widened with intrigue. 

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed, stomping his heel onto your toe under the table. 

Your squeak turned into a laugh, and you raised your brows at him - I’ll keep your secrets if you keep mine. 

He shifted his attention back to the food, knowing he had much more to lose in the present circumstance, and your agreement with one another was settled. 

“How are your lectures, son?” 

John shrugged. “Fine.” 

“What are you learning about?” 

You smirked around your next sip of wine, knowing that John hadn’t got a clue about the contents of his course given his terrible attendance to his lectures. 

“Uh... Ethics.” 

“Anything else?” 

John attempted to remember the names of the modules he’d done the bare minimum for, but it didn’t seem to fool Mr Van der Linde one bit. He had mentioned that the push to study philosophy had come from his father, and unlike most kids that did something because their parents wanted them too, John didn’t seem to care. He much preferred being out of doors, with animals or working with his hands. Above anything, John preferred not working. So, a three-year degree, paid for by his father where he could slack off for a little while longer was more than welcome. 

The way his father looked at him, you could tell John would be getting a talking to in a more private setting at a later date, but he instead turned his attention to you in favour of not lowering the mood around the table. 

“Do you have more of an interest in your course than John does in his?” he asked you, his voice not entirely cleared of his disappointment and John noticed it too, shrinking his shoulders slightly. 

“I suppose so,” you said brightly, hoping to alleviate the tension. 

“You’re studying philosophy like John?” 

“Oh, no,” you sipped at your wine, feeling as though you were being interviewed for your place on said course all over again. “Computer Science.”  

He raised his eyebrow in surprise and Arthur hummed to vocalise how impressed he was. “Smart girl,” Mr Van der Linde said thoughtfully before taking a bite of food. 

“She’s only interested in it because she has to be,” John scoffed, and you wondered if part of him was jealous at the praise you were getting that he wasn’t. “She’s got a scholarship,” he clarified. 

You cleared your throat, embarrassed and slightly irritated at John for mentioning it. “I have to keep my attendance above eighty percent,” you shrugged nonchalantly. 

“A scholarship? My my,” Mr Van der Linde brought his glass to his lips. 

You just shook your head. Truthfully, you wouldn’t have even been able to go were it not for the scholarship; it would have been far too expensive, so you didn’t really have a choice in the matter if you wanted a place on the course.  

“Do you know what you want to do for work?” 

“Not really, suppose I’ll just go into software - that’s where most of the jobs are,” you took another sip of the wine and found your glass empty. “I guess I won’t go into app development, though.” 

Even though you could slap yourself for trying to banter with him and only coming up with something so pathetic, he chuckled into his glass and his eyes were warm as they bore into yours when he licked a stray droplet from his bottom lip as he set the glass down. 

You could swear you clenched. 

“You always get flushed after wine,” John commented with amusement, refilling your glass before his own. 

“I’m not,” you said quietly, holding your knuckles to your cheek and yes, your skin was burning. You grumbled and dipped your head, the spicy flavours of your dish now something you were all too aware of. 

Mr Van der Linde just observed you, something unreadable on his face or maybe the wine had gone to your head and you just no longer had the capacity to distinguish emotions. 

“Well,” he wiped a napkin over his mouth and sat back in his chair, his plate completely emptied of food. “I’m glad you’re around to keep John in check.” 

“She isn’t as sensible and innocent as she looks,” John said over a full mouthful and Arthur tutted at his lack of table manners. 

“That so.” Mr Van der Linde wasn’t asking. He sipped at his wine. 

“Sure I am,” you cleared your throat, finding your voice once again but having nothing more to say to defend yourself. You couldn’t deny that John had experienced you in a light that was more than ill-fashioned, thanks to the numerous substances you’d experimented with over your short friendship so far. 

The conversation continued long after dinner finished, Tilly talking all about her new school year and it was clear how much her father and brothers adored her; looking at her with all the love in the world and your heart swelled at the display. Your head swelled too, and you stopped your alcohol consumption after your fourth glass of wine, knowing you’d have a fierce headache in the morning. 

Unfortunately, the conversation didn’t turn to the topic of Mr Van der Linde, and in your drunken haze you couldn’t stop your mind wandering as you thought about him as he sat there, a soft grin and slightly heavy eyelids following the wine and beer he’d drank that day with a hearty meal to top it off. You desperately tried to keep your gaze on whoever was talking, and for the past twenty minutes it’d been mainly Arthur. He briefly mentioned the business Dutch owned (what the business was, you had no idea) with another man, Hosea, his most trusted friend and colleague.  

None of you had realised how close to midnight it was, and you rubbed at your eyes once Arthur pointed it out and called for a taxi to take him home. A yawn and a stretch later, you stood to excuse yourself too. 

“Thanks again for dinner, Mr Van der Linde,” you said, picking up your cutlery, plate, and glass and loading them into the dishwasher. 

“Please,” his voice came from right behind you and you stifled a gasp as you turned. John and Tilly were saying their goodbyes to Arthur at the door, but Mr Van der Linde was right next to you and god did he smell good. 

And god, were you drunk. 

“Call me Dutch,” he crooned, loading his own dishes beside yours. 

All you could think to respond with was a nod. “Alright, thanks. Dutch.” 

His brow softened at hearing his name on your tongue and he allowed himself the slight indulgence of wandering his eyes down your form as you walked away, clearly trying to hide in your walk how quickly the wine had gone to your head. He was in no position to judge, attributing his interest in his son’s pretty friend to nothing more than a drunken lapse of judgement that would go no further than that.  

- 

Your mouth was so dry.  

The room span a little as you opened your eyes, but the headache wasn’t as bad as some you’d had previously, thankful that it was still dark out and you didn’t have to deal with any blinding lights. Rolling over within the comfort of the bed, which you could tell was dressed with a very expensive sheet and duvet set, you tilted your phone that sat charging on the nightstand and checked the time. 03:43. 

Lord knows why you didn’t bring a glass of water to bed, or at the very least have some before you went to sleep, but you needed some right now and sat up to swing your feet onto the floor.  

The house was still warm, and you ran your hand over a radiator in passing to find that it was on a low heat, so no wonder. You wore your plain, oversized, grey t-shirt and some underwear that you always referred to as your ‘boy shorts’. Drunken you had decided to be a little modest, at least. 

(Mostly) sober you didn’t follow that trend, venturing onto the landing without pulling on some trackies, saying to yourself that you’d only be a moment anyway, so it was no matter. 

You tiptoed down the stairs, thankful for the minimum creaking of the floorboards and made your way to the kitchen, the tiles cold on your bare feet.  

There were a lot of cabinets, and while it felt rude to rummage through them you didn’t have much choice unless you wanted to lean over and drink straight from the tap, which was a much worse position to be caught in should someone see you. You eventually found the cupboard with the glasses and mugs, and after pulling out a pint glass you filled it up and gulped it down within seconds. 

You did the same thing again, and as you were halfway done with your second glass a dim light was flicked on and you almost choked on your drink. 

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” 

Turning, you held your hand to your mouth to mask the massive gulp of water you held in it, and you swallowed it down as gracefully as you could, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as you cleared your throat to greet Dutch. 

“It’s no problem,” you shook your head. “Sorry, did I wake you?" 

He shook his head too, dismissively, and you didn’t miss his eyeline drop to your legs before back at your face. 

“Shit,” you muttered, moving to hide your bottom half behind the island and he smirked. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

But obviously you did, you’d known him shy of twelve hours and he’d just found you in his kitchen dressed the way you were and he’d probably seen half of your ass when you were turned the other way. 

You glanced down at yourself by uncomfortably. 

He let you fester for a moment under his smirk, before shrugging off his night gown to reveal his broad and surprisingly muscular chest, black hairs decorating it as well as his stomach. “Here,” he handed it out to you over the counter, leaving himself in just his red and black checked bottoms. 

You took it without thinking, most of your brain power allocated to the task of not staring and you looked at the garment in your hands. “You don’t have to -” 

“It’s fine.” He looked almost bored of your apologetic demeanour, something you realised he’d seen a lot of from you. You took the robe and wrapped it around yourself, the softness of it making you want to curl up but not quite as much as that scent did. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled and he nodded. “You don’t have any painkillers, do you?” you asked, feeling like an immature teenager that couldn’t handle her drink. “Just in case.” 

“Of course.” He moved round the counter and opened a drawer, tutting at the creased-up menus that jammed it and you did your best to hide your amusement. A rattle from the packet later, he pushed two out and offered them to you, and you held your hand out for him to drop them in. You popped them in your mouth and leaned your head back to gulp down some water. 

He stared at your neck as you did so, but ripped his attention away when you brought your head back down. 

“Is your head hurting?” he asked, stepping towards you and holding his hand to your forehead while brushing your hair away soothingly. 

“Oh no, not really,” you swallowed. “It’s just in case it does in the morning.” 

“I see,” he said plainly, casually returning his arm to his side. 

“Thanks... again.” 

Leaning back on the counter behind him, he crossed one foot over the other and offered you a gentle smile. You took another few sips, emptying your glass. 

You glanced from Dutch to the sink and back to Dutch, before making your way over to fill up again. Now he was right next to you, silently observing and you didn’t face away from the sink as you drank down some more water. You could feel how warm he was, it radiated from his chest, and you were glad to have sobered up because you were certain drunken you would’ve just leaned into it, and how awful would that be. 

Awful. Terrible. Definitely not wonderful. 

Gulping down the rest of the glass, you finally felt satisfied and filled up once more so you could bring some it to bed with you. You turned to the man beside you, who did nothing other than blink. 

“Good night, Mr Van der Linde.” 

“Good night, miss.” 

You walked out of the kitchen, remembering you hadn’t called him Dutch like he’d asked but supposing it wasn’t a big deal and you couldn’t think too long on it without the image of him topless crept back into your mind. 

He’s John’s dad.  

Shaking your head to hopefully rid it of your thoughts, you pushed open the door to your room and closed it gently before climbing into bed and curling in on yourself, keeping his nightgown wrapped around you. 

- 

Despite it being winter, it was too hot when you woke. 

It was no surprise, given the heating was on and you were wearing Dutch’s robe and had a thick duvet draped over you. You kicked it off, star-fishing and grimacing at the sweat that’d pooled on your lower back. 

09:07. 

You brought up your messages with John. 

Going to get a shower if you don’t mind.  

John was mostly hit and miss with his sleeping schedule, sometimes he’d be up at the crack of dawn and other times he’d sleep in until mid-afternoon. Today, you were thankfully he’d been an early riser. 

Knock yourself out.  

You stayed still for a moment, before sliding out of the bed and unzipping your suitcase to find your toiletries bag. Not wanting to change into anything that was clean, you opted for keeping Dutch’s nightgown on since you were only walking across the hall. 

But when you did, and reached your hand out to open the bathroom door, you could hear the shower on from inside. You frowned and turned, in time for Tilly to depart from her room to the right.  

“Oh, John’s just gone in,” she informed you. 

“Fucker,” you grumbled and she tilted her head at you in questioning. “I just told him I was getting a shower.” 

She giggled apologetically, her eyes shifting to look behind you at the sound of a door opening. You turned. Dutch. You hadn’t realised the room next to yours was his. 

“You’re welcome to use my ensuite,” he yawned, patting Tilly’s arm as she passed him to go downstairs. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” 

“Right,” you nodded. “Thank you.” 

“There’s no shower in there,” he leaned against the door frame, folding his arms over his now (unfortunately) covered chest. “Just a bath, but I can draw you one up no problem.” 

A bath. God, you missed baths. Your accommodation only had crappy showers that were unbearably inconsistent with their water pressure and temperature. 

“I’m sure I can wait,” you shrugged, not wanting to trouble him even a little. 

“John’ll be at least 20 minutes,” he pointed to the door with disappointment, “bath’ll be full in ten.” 

You swallowed, now feeling like it’d be rude of you to say no. “O-Okay, thanks. But I can run it.” 

“Please, allow me. On account of my idiot son,” he scratched the back of his scalp lazily. 

You huffed a laugh, not wanting to oppose him anymore and gave in. “Alright, I appreciate it.” 

Dutch nodded, disappearing into his room and you busied yourself back in yours while you waited. You were fiddling with the gramophone again when he rapped at your open door. 

“You just turn the crank,” he informed you. 

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t want to break it.” 

He huffed in amusement, meandering over and stopping next to you to wind it up. 

You smiled fondly, as the ever-familiar Dance of The Swans began playing. 

“Swan Lake,” you hummed, more to yourself than Dutch but he turned to you with his eyebrows raised. 

“You like ballet?” 

“Love it. Used to take lessons when I was younger, not that I was any good,” you snorted. “Swan Lake was always my favourite.” 

His smile was warm, and eyes intrigued. “Do you go to see the shows often?” 

“Not as often as I’d like, it’s been a couple years actually.” Life as a student didn’t often allow room for the luxuries of tickets to the ballet. 

Dutch nodded thoughtfully. “Well, your bath is ready.” 

You followed him out the room, the song reaching its crescendo and fading out in your ears as the two of you walked further away from it. He opened the door to his bedroom, motioning for you to enter. 

“There’s a speaker in there if you want to put on any music, John says it’s Bluetooth or something.” 

God, he’s adorable. 

He’s also John’s father goddamnit.  

“Thank you,” you cleared your throat, walking past him and through the next open door, stopping at the frame. 

“Take your time,” he hummed after you and you nodded in appreciation as you closed the door. You'd wanted to sneak a peek at his room but couldn’t very well do so with him watching you. You dropped your things on the floor and locked the ensuite, turning to the pristine bathroom that felt warm and cosy despite the fact it was mostly grey, the floor slate and the standalone bath by the small window at the end. 

The smells inside the room were wonderful, and you peered into the steaming tub and to your surprise it was filled with bubbles, the water a shade of lavender and you were impressed that he even had the supplies to make such a delightful bath. 

He’d even lit a candle for you. 

You shrugged off his robe and hung it on the back of the door, taking a second to smell it and make sure it didn’t now reek of your sweat. Thankfully, it didn’t. 

It was the best bath you’d ever had. You’d played some of your favourite relaxing music and looped through an entire album before you cracked your eyes open, realising how long you’d sat in the warmth as your hangover dissolved away. 

Giving the bath a little once over with the scourer and bathroom spray you found under the sink once the water was out, you rubbed your nice-smelling moisturiser over your skin and dressed in your clothes for the day; feeling miles better than you had done a few hours previous. 

You only allowed your eyes to rake over Dutch’s bedroom briefly, dark mahogany furnishings and an extremely inviting king-sized bed with silk sheets in the centre of the room. The only think you didn’t like was how eerily tidy it was. You left quickly. 

The scent of something sweet greeted you and you cringed slightly upon seeing the hands of the fancy kitchen clock reading the time of 10:25. Whoops. 

Nobody seemed to mind, greeting you as John and Tilly sat at the breakfast bar while Dutch cooked over the stove. You flicked John’s ear as you passed him for stealing your shower, although you weren’t really that bothered since the alternative was much more desirable. He rasped his laugh, as usual, and you could tell he’d just had his morning cigarette, though you suspected he was missing his weed that he’d usually smoke on a Saturday morning. 

“You were pretty wasted last night,” he slung his arm over you, and you pressed your forehead into his shoulder. 

“I wasn’t that bad,” you mumbled into the fabric of his hoodie that you’d borrowed on more than one occasion. 

He vibrated with a laugh, resting his head on top of yours and you pondered which one of you had really been that drunk, considering he was showing signs of a strong hangover; he was always very snuggly after a particularly heavy night. “Hair of the dog later?” 

“You’re going out tonight?” Tilly asked and John looked to you. 

“If we don’t find anything else to do, probably. We did say we were only going to go if Javi went anyway.” 

“And is he?” 

“Not sure,” you hummed, shifting to lay your head on John sideways (he was surprisingly comfortable given his lean frame) and pulling out your phone to find no new messages from Javier. 

Thoughts on tonight?  

You set your phone on the counter, not expecting a reply until much later when he finally joined the land of the living. 

“We could go on a walk?” Tilly asked sweetly and John groaned. 

“A walk,” you jabbed his side, “would be lovely. Maybe in a few hours when John’s recovered.” 

“Coming, dad?” 

Dutch cleared his throat, seemingly very focused on his cooking and slung the tea towel over his shoulder. “Uh... Perhaps. It’s colder than it looks out there.” 

He brought two bowls over, one filled with fresh berries and another with melted chocolate. You groaned in delight and sat up from John, peering at the selection.  

When the bowl of chopped banana arrived along with lemon juice and sugar, Dutch allowed himself a glance in your direction and his lips turned up at the sight of you eagerly eying the food. 

He finally brought over the pancakes, sauce, and fresh orange juice before seating himself beside Tilly. 

You salivated at the display in front of you, the best cure for a hangover that wasn’t quite the same when you’d made it back in your flat. “Thanks so much, Dutch,” you hummed, beginning to stack your pancakes with toppings.  

“It’s my pleasure,” he chuckled, pouring out a cup of coffee. 

Internally, John briefly questioned when you’d gotten to a first name basis with his dad but didn’t give it much thought to it and soon his full focus was on the food in front of him. 

“I got a load of washing,” he chewed his last mouthful after pretty much inhaling his breakfast, washing it down with a glass of orange juice. 

“You know where the laundry room is,” Dutch countered calmly to which John scoffed and stood to grab his washing that’d accumulated over the past few weeks. “Do you want to wash anything, miss?” 

“Oh,” you swallowed your juice, remembering your suitcase full of clothes that needed washing. “It’s fine, I do have some but I was just going to do it when I got home.” 

“Nonsense. When John’s finished you can put a load on.” 

You shrugged. “Alright, suppose I may as well.” 

Later that day, Dutch called up the stairs to let you know the washing machine was free and you ambled downstairs after separating your clean clothes from those that needed washing. He directed you to the laundry room and you placed your suitcase on the dryer and opened it, deciding that one load should be enough. You looked at his fancy washing machine, slightly uncertain on how to get it going. 

As though reading your mind, he appeared in the doorway and cleared up your confusion. You turned to thank him and found his eyes cast down to your pile of clothing – and you were mortified to see your underwear right at the top. In an attempt to play it cool, you looked back to him and he gave you a smile, one that had you questioning if he’d even been looking or if it was just a figment of your imagination. You returned his expression, turning back to desperately try and remember what he’d just told you about how to work the appliance and you leaned over to turn a dial and pretend you knew what you were doing. You breathed a sigh of relief when the door clicked shut after an extended moment, and dumped your pile of clothes in. 

Unfortunately, the weather was both cold and rainy by the afternoon, squashing all hopes Tilly had of going on a walk. She made you promise that when you next came round, you’d join them on one and you were reminded that you had to leave tomorrow but the prospect of returning was an exciting one. Incidentally, Javier had no desire to go out in the rain and so yours and John’s plans were cancelled too, but you went to the drive through for a late lunch that you’d both finished by the time you returned to his house. 

Instead, you spent the rest of the day on the sofa with Tilly and John, flicking through Netflix and bundled under blankets. Dutch put you to shame by having a better social life and going out for beers with his friends that evening, but he made a lasagne to go in the oven when the three of you got hungry, and the entire thing was demolished in no time. Nursing a rather large food baby, you turned in at around 11pm. 

- 

“Are you going to come and watch?” John asked you after he informed the room that he'd be playing football with the guys on that dreary Sunday. 

You glanced out the window and back to him with a frown. “It’s pouring rain. And I see you’re going back on your promise to give me a lift to the station.” 

“I never promised nothing,” his expression told a different story; he’d just forgotten. “Dad’ll take you,” he gestured to his father who looked up from his phone. 

“Course I will,” Dutch stated, and returned his attention to the device in his hand. 

“Oh, it’s fine, I can get a taxi -” 

His expression alone silenced you as he looked up once more, an eyebrow raised at you to stop protesting. “I insist,” he said after letting the silence hang in the air for a bit. You just nodded. 

When John left an hour later, he gave you a big squeeze goodbye and you told him to at least do some revision for his exams in January, to which he countered that they didn’t even count to the final grade and you couldn’t really argue with him on that. With Tilly up in her room and a couple of hours to kill before you had to leave, you tried to find something to watch on TV but had no luck and sighed as you eyed your laptop beside you. May as well try and get some work done. 

You begrudgingly pulled up the code for one of your assignments, but soon found yourself focused and began to make some decent progress. 

“What on earth is that,” Dutch commented, leaning on the back of the sofa as he squinted at your screen over your shoulder. 

Huffing a laugh, you craned your neck to look back at him. “Broken code,” you stated, before looking back at said code. 

“Looks... interesting. How can you concentrate with this on?” he gestured to the TV. 

“Oh,” you looked up, half forgetting it was even on. “It’s just background noise.” 

“I see. Mind if I watch something?” 

As if he was asking you, like it wasn’t his own house. “Course not.” 

He moved round the sofa and dropped himself in the spot you’d first found him in, and he flicked through the channels until he landed on a cooking show, and you were reminded of how delightful your dinner was last night. 

“That lasagne was so good,” you commented, not taking your gaze off the screen in front of you. 

“I’m glad you liked it. Can I get you a drink?” 

“Oh,” you blinked at him, “no, I’m fine thank you.” 

You returned your attention back to your work and settled into the cushion of the sofa. It felt oddly normal to sit with Dutch, while he did have a very intimidating aura, he was also the kind of person you could sit in silence with and not have it be awkward. He lounged back, watching his show while you typed away on your keyboard.  

Before you knew it, an hour and a half had passed, and you rubbed your eyes before closing your laptop.  

“Ready to get going?” 

You groaned and rested back, wishing you could curl up on the comfy sofa instead. “I guess,” you grumbled. 

Dutch chuckled fondly. “You’re welcome back anytime.” 

“Thanks Mr Van der Linde,” you smiled at him, and there was something about the way he was looking at you... 

Or perhaps it was your imagination. 

He cleared his throat as he stood, placing his warm hand on your shoulder as he passed and you almost leaned into it, but he was out the room before you could and all that remained was that scent of his. You shivered as you stood. 

The short journey to the station was delightful, in Dutch’s fancy car that had heated seats and was pristinely clean. You only allowed yourself to look at him once, the way he sat back and leisurely stirred the wheel with one hand, his other one resting on his thigh. 

“Have a good Christmas, miss,” he tipped his head as you turned to close the door, and you returned the sentiment. 

You were actually glad to be leaving, a little fantasising was harmless but there was something about that look in his eye that had you wondering if perhaps it could be a reality. And, of course, that was territory you’d never venture into; sleeping with your friend’s dad, a man twice your age? Absolutely not. Time to enjoy Christmas at home and forget all about him. 

When you couldn’t find one of your favourite pair of knickers, the lacy, dark grey ones, you tutted at yourself for forgetting them even though you were sure you’d packed them. But when you returned for second term at university, they weren’t anywhere to be found in your flat, either. 

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

Can i send you a request? I’m a classical music student and the end of uni semester is hard 😪 what if Harry was y/n’s instrument teacher (individual classes) and they have a good relationship but he’s really a perfectionist and she’s putting a lot of pressure on herself and one day he tells her a criticism about her piece and she takes it the wrong way and starts crying and have a panic attack in her class ☹️

(Lets make it sweet and fluffy though 😂)

Of course! I actually majored in vocal performance my Freshman year and the pressure got to me and I switched majors lol. It was just so competitive and stressful and a lot of work outside of classes and lessons and sectionals and juries! ANYWAY! I know how hard end of term can be so I'm wishing you all the best! 🫶

After midterms everything just sort of becomes a blur in university, students are frantic to catch up or improve or maintain their grades, professors are suddenly starting to grade all assignments in bulk, and for Y/N particularly, this meant very inconvenient practice times for her end of the year jury practice. The practice rooms were constantly busy and it was hard to find a reasonable time between her other classes to put in some practice. She was really pushing herself to show fast improvement because during her last semester jury she was told that her nerves were coming through. She was only nervous because she was scared she would forget how to play or read music or count. Just normal thoughts from an anxious and panicked brain.

After that feedback though she brainstormed and decided that the only way none of those things would happen would be if she memorized her next jury piece. It had to be a piece that was at least 5 minutes in length, which wasn't a hard feat. She and her faculty advisor, who was also her assigned instrument teacher, Prof. Styles, well he liked to be called Harry, but they had chosen Chopin's Berceuse Op. 57. She had started to learn that piece the year before but for one reason or another they just stopped practicing it for her repertoire, but he suggested it was time to bring it back. It was an opportunity for her to be able to show off her technical skills while also showcasing how freely she could play. Chopin was all about movement and expression, it gave a lot of wiggle room for the pianist's own artistic expression and based on the previous semester's criticism, her own expression was severely lacking.

It was the week before juries now and due to the hectic schedules and end of term assignments Y/N was running on 4 hours of sleep, burnt coffee, and stale pop-tarts as she was rationing her meal points at this point. She was blazing through the campus to make it to her lesson on time and she just made it in, Harry hated tardiness more than anything.

"Just in time. How's it going." he asked as Y/N walked in panting.

"It's going." she huffed as she set her backpack down and dug out her sheet music, though by this point she really didn't need it.

"How's practice been going?" he asked as she settled herself onto the bench.

"Alright, been going 2 to 2 and half hours." she said as stretched her hands back and wiggled her fingers around. She was still breathing heavily, "I warmed up at my dorm before I came over, s'why I was rushing." she said, "I just need to your honest opinion on how this is sounding."

"S'why I'm here, my dear." he assured and she smiled, "Also, please take a minute to catch your breath." he chuckled and she swallowed down thickly and nodded. She closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders back before exhaling slowly, "There you go, nice and relaxed." he encouraged.

Harry was attractive, there was no denying that. He was practically a musical prodigy and his talent was extraordinary. He was the youngest faculty member, he actually started on her first year, so naturally, she got assigned to him for her lessons, a lot of the new kids did. He was stern and serious, but he also let his kindness seep through - he was just so balanced and it made her feel really comfortable around him. He was an excellent instructor and just within a year of them working together for individual lessons her abilities had improved to the point where she was made second chair to accompany the ensembles as her second year. Obviously, there was a senior as first chair, but her being that much younger and being offered second chair was a big deal. She was Harry's best student and that also came with it's own pressure. With him being who he was, it made people scrutinize his pupils even more as they were his living legacy! Y/N stared at the black and white keys before her for a moment before she put her hands in position and the piece took off.

Harry didn't interrupt her once, he let her play it how she had been rehearsing. But he noticed that her gaze was set down at the keys and her eyes were a bit narrowed. Her shoulders tense and it was causing her posture to worsen as time progressed. Yes, she was hitting all of the right notes but what she was displaying visually and emoting was not matching the easy and fluid feeling of the piece she was playing. As soon as she started to wrap up she relaxed a bit more and finished nicely, holding the last note for a few beats before slowly stepping off of the reverb petal.

Y/N exhaled d and turned to him with a big smile. This was the first time she had made it through the whole piece without a little mistake that she noticed or a feeling that her performance was lacking in some capacity. She couldn't really decipher the look on his face, but she just knew it had to be good feedback. She waited eagerly as he stood there, waiting for a few moments, taking it in. Usually speechless meant good - like there were no words.

"Well, I mean you certainly learned the piece." he said and she chuckled.

"I just wanted to make sure that I didn't miss anything. That I just knew when and where things are supposed to happen so that I'm not freaking out like last time." she explained and he hummed.

"How do you think you did?" he asked and she shrugged with some humility.

"I'd say maybe 8.9 or 9 out of 10." she said and his eyebrows raised.

"Oh, OK." he said with some surprise in his voice and immediately her stomach sank. It couldn't be good that he looked shocked at her self-evaluation.

"Was it not that good?" she asked and he licked over his lips.

"It was and it wasn't, technically you're perfect-"

"So then what?" she asked as she started to feel her hands prick with nerves. She swallowed down that awful burning in her chest, that kind when your breath is short.

"You're literally playing it exactly as it's written there in the sheet music. Where's the feeling?"

"Well I'm playing the dynamics like it says there to give it some movement!" she said and he shook his head and sighed.

"Y/N, you're so focused on making it perfect that you've completely thrown out the entire purpose of music. Yes, you would definitely impress any audience with your skill but if you just keep focusing on perfection you'll never be able to move an audience with your music." he said and she doesn't know why that hurt so much coming from him but it did, "Yes, the dynamics there are a guide for the overall tone of the piece, but you're not being vulnerable and showing us what this feels like for you." he critiqued, "The arpeggios should give me the visual of...let's say a butterfly, fluttering it's wings, right now they feel like a wounded bird, you're dragging the tempo and pressing the keys too hard in trying to ensure that you don't miss a note. And you're glissando is also dragged. You know how to do this, Y/N-" he stopped talking when he heard her gasp, almost as if she was about to cry, "Y/N?" he asked and she glanced up to him with tears rolling down her face and her mouth slightly parted and he could see her chest was rising and falling quickly with how shallow her breathing was. "Oh my god." he said grabbing her hands, "Y/N, it's alright." he said as her shallow breathing started to worsen.

"I-Ican'tbreathe." she slurred and he looked into her panicked and tearful eyes trying to decide how he could help.

"Fuck." he whispered as he took in her demeanor, "Y/N, I-i'm gonna hold you, OK." he warned before he just pulled her into his chest and nestled her face into his neck. Her tears and puffs of air were heating and dampening his skin and surely the collar of his shirt but he just wanted her to be OK. Harry had a huge soft spot for Y/N. He's known her since she started here and he'd been able to help her cultivate her gift and she had a talent that he admired. Maybe in wanting to make her the best he pushed her too far? "I'm sorry if I've been pressuring you too much. I just believe in you and your gift so much. I don't want to push you to the point where I'm taking away your feelings for the music. I'm sorry if I have." he said softly as he rubbed at her back. She was starting to calm down, "There you go, darling. Breathe in and out, it's alright." he comforted her, "Breathe with me." he said and she slowly started to sync up her breathing with his own, "That's it." He encouraged her until she had calmed down.

“I’m sorry.” She stammered as she hiccuped on her tears.

“Hey, it’s alright, you don’t have to apologize.” He assured.

“I’ve just been trying so hard and I don’t want to disappoint you or myself or anyone and-“

“Y/N, I’m not disappointed in you. I just want you to remember that being great at something doesn’t mean you have to stop showing your love for it. Show that you’re passionate about your playing! That’s what we want to see, that’s all.” He said with a soft smile and she nodded into his chest before he released her and reared back to look into her eyes, they were already fixed on his own. “You alright?” He asked and she nodded, “Good.” He smiled as he scooted down the bench to give her sufficient space, “I’ll be right here beside you. Again from the top.”

[hankwritten]

A Tavern Named Keep [6/6]

Demoman-centric Modern AU

[1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6]

In a small uni-town in New Mexico, DeGroot Keep serves liquor and succor to an eclectic yet loyal group of patrons, and has for many years. The Keep owes its success to its equally colorful owner, who always seems to know what you need—whether that be a stiff beer or a word of advice. But, between setting up his patrons or sifting through his friends’ problems, will Tavish remember to take care of himself?

Two mugs spring with amber liquid, the tap gushing with the satisfying rise in pitch as each one fills. Practiced hands kill it at just the right time, the foam heads perfectly proportioned, settling briefly before Tavish tops them off. He drops a curly straw in one, and slides them forward.

Dell’s beer is parted from the bartender’s hand for approximately half a second before the engineer grasps it firmly and takes a mighty gulp.

“Trouble in paradise?” Tavish asks as Pyro double takes at the man beside them.

The mug slams back down, and Dell wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “You could say that, yeah.”

“Well come on then,” Tavish says, cocking a hip and leaning sumptuously on the bar. “Tell ‘ole Tavvy your woes.”

“So long as you never call yourself that again, sure. Why else come to a bar but to unload relationship troubles?”

“Truer words never spoken. C’mon spill it, Conagher. First month is always when the heretofore unknown character flaws come bubbling up, and Fortier had a wagonload to begin with.”

“Hell.” Dell rubs the bridge of his nose. “For one, I think Scout’s still mad at me.”

A froth of consoling noises comes from Pyro’s mask, as well as a rubbery pat on the back.

“Alright, maybe she isn’t, but it sure feels like it. And I know I should be giving her time to get used to the idea of me and her dad uh…” He clears his throat. “Seeing each other. But that don’t make it any easier.”

“She’ll come around, Dell,” Tavish assures. “But ‘for one’ makes me think that isn’t all?”

Dell rubs a hand over his freshly shaved head. “I…it’s hard to explain this one. More than it’s just a feeling, not anything he’s said or done but…Seems like he doesn’t want to go anywhere with me. Most of the time when I suggest some place the two of us could spend a nice night at, he goes on grumbling about Teufort being a backwater whatever. But sometimes I wonder if it’s more than that. That he doesn’t want to be seen with me.”

Tavish’s opinion of Fortier is low enough that he thinks ‘yeah that tracks’, but quietly, and to himself. Instead he says the proper thing as both barman and friend of, “ach no, don’t go thinking that. Prissy as the man is, he did make the decision to be with you, and he’ll honor that.” He better. Otherwise he’ll have fifteen stone of Scotsman putting a boot up his arse the next time he walks through the Keep’s door. “I think you’re jumping to an uncharitable interpretation of events.”

“Maybe. I got a cousin’s wedding coming up, and I was hoping to bring him along, but if he’s going to get cold feet…”

Pyro gesticulates something.

“Wadda you mean? Like a chance to get him used to the idea?” Dell asks, to which they nod. “Trying things out at a small gathering might just work…Hey DeGroot, I assume we’re having a going away party for Doe sometime soon, right?”

And just like that the world shifts, the axis of the Earth tilts another 2.5 degrees, the conversation of the same old help-your-friends-fix-their-hearts slips from Tavish’s grasp as he struggles to comprehend what has just been said to him.

“A…a going away party?” he repeats stupidly. “Going bloody where?”

The two spines in front of him straighten, and don’t do much to hide as their topmost vertebra twitch just enough to exchange bewildered looks with one another. Cautiously, Dell says, “his new job up in Minnesota? Didn’t he tell you?”

The underlying accusation of wouldn’t you be the first one he’d tell? as clear as day.

“Is this…?” Permanent? For certain? All the things Tavish wants to know but they’re all butting heads to get out the door first. He whips his head around, to shout across his tavern to the man in the far corner, ‘oi Doe, all of this true?’ but the words catch in his throat. Instead, he hastily says, “‘scuse me lads,” and puts every ounce of concentration into moving his legs across the floor.

His heart does not have the aptitude to panic. Years of the drink have persuaded his blood pressure to never get too worked up over itself, and this morning’s draught still sloshes heavily in the stream. So if his body doesn’t respond to the signals his brain is sending, the ones stumbling along to conclusions he’d never even seen the edges before, then he can thank it for getting him from one side of the Keep to the other.

“You’re moving?” he says before he’s even greeted, before the others at the table even realize he’s there. Its bluntness is unfamiliar in his mouth.

He doesn't get a chance to see Jane's reaction. In that instant, two newcomers (the bell still tinkling) appear at the table, and Mikhail is shouldering into the conversation with, “DeGroot. Mikhail needs advice”

“Pah,” another voice comes elbowing past him. “Such as ‘what ingredients shall I put on my sandwich today?’ I am here with a true emergency.” Helen, having just fought her way over who could squeeze through the front door first (and having lost rather spectacularly) puts both hands on the table. “The board is forming an inquiry into the exact nature of my relationship with Miss Pauling. This is a matter most urgent.”

Mikhail growls in a way that indicates he’d very much like to simply knock her aside again, “is own fault did not think of this when starting relationship. Live with decision. Mikhail has real issue.” He pales considerably. “Doktor talks about moving in together.”

“And?” Helen hisses. “Either you do or you don’t, DeGroot does not have time for such petty frivolities when the entire reputation of The Facility is on the line!”

“Listen, would you two mind coming back some other…” Tavish says, but is promptly ignored.

“Is not this thing you just said,” Mikhail counters. “Is dangerous. Too soon. Doktor wants to pick up with commitment right where he left off. Cannot make him see this. Need advice, is DeGroot's fault in first place.”

“I think fault is-” Tavish tries.

“I have equal claim to his time, as this whole- “““dating””” -business was certainly not my idea!”

“Ach, one at a-”

Although not prone to fits of panic, this does not make Tavish immune to being utterly overwhelmed. Mikhail and Helen are looking to shed blood right in the middle of his nice clean floor, their blame is loud in his ears, and Jane is just feet away. Inches. Agonizingly close and—to Tavish’s drawing dread—wearing a look of guilt on his face.

Jane stands. To Tavish's relief, this is apparently to disrupt the conversation. He says, “you two keep at that. DeGroot’s superior officer needs a word with him.” His hand finds Tavish’s upper arm, and the barman does not resist when he is gently marched away from the indignant pair. Before Helen can muster a demand to return, they’re already in the cramped room below the stairwell.

They’re barely alone for more than a second before Tavish blurts, “you got a new job?”

And what can Jane say but, “…yeah.”

“Oh.”

They stand there, too close to each other where a single pull string light casts the tiny landing into contrast. He’s still breathing heavy, and he wants to ask why didn’t you tell me? but it’s increasingly obvious that this is why Jane didn’t tell him. Because he’s freaking out, because normal people don’t find out their best friend is moving out of town in a perfectly natural and adult change in careers and immediately feel like they’re going to die. He struggles, once, twice, three times to school his expression. He smiles. Friendly, congenial bartender here at your service.

“Where to?” he asks conversationally.

Jane won’t look at him. He struggles to look anyone in the eye on normal circumstances, but the proximity makes it all the more palpable. “Up at Chippewa. There’s an animal sanctuary there that had an opening.”

“Ah, that sounds nice. I know how much you like working with the rehabilitation cases.” It hurts, it hurts so much but he forces out, “I’m really happy for you.”

“Really?”

It isn’t a really of surprised hope. It’s an accusation, disappointment, and Tavish knows for certain that Jane did keep this from him because he knew Tavish would make this horrid, embarrassing, thing out of it.

“I…”

Tavish tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. Don’t cry. Don’t cry you sappy, useless drunk. You’re making it bad enough as it is. Who cares if it feels like all your organs are shutting down one by one? Doc always joked how your liver would go any day now, the rest of them might as well toddle on after it.

“That’s all?” Jane asks doubtfully. “You’re happy for me?”

Jesus why does he keep pushing this? It compels some of the truth out through Tavish’s teeth. “Well…no. I’m not happy. But what am I supposed to do, try to talk you out of it? Throw a fit every time something doesn’t go my way?”

Jane snarls something. His profile is stony, and Tavish is afraid of it, knowing he’s seeing it for now a finite amount of times and afraid he’s doing it wrong. That he’s not appreciating his best friend right, not appreciating him enough. Tick tick tick the seconds go by, and Tavish is wasting it as his mask slips further.

“No,” Jane finally admits. “No, but sometimes I wish you weren’t so damn selfless.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean? Look lad if you’ve found a better job, and you’ve made your decision, I won’t try to guilt you out of it-”

“That’s what I mean!” Jane yells, and the silence that follows is so deafening that the outburst must have reached even the front of the house. “That! Perfect, noble, so goddamn observant about every little problem that wasn’t yours, yet you couldn’t figure me.”

“What?” Tavish asks. “What was I supposed to be seeing?”

“You‘ve diagnosed every lovesick private who’s ever walked into this tavern, but you still couldn’t see how much I was in love with you.”

Somehow, that silence is more powerful, more terrifying than anything that came before it. It reaches deep under Tavish’s skin, pinning him with tenterhooks until he can’t move, can’t think, can’t cycle the air that’s caught in his lungs.

“Twenty goddamn years.” This, it seems, is mostly to himself as Jane stares at the single mop leaned in the corner. He shakes his head. “Everyone else, clear as day. Me? Not a damn clue.”

“Jane I. I don’t think I…”

Jane holds up a hand. “You don’t need to say it maggot. I’ve thought through this conversation as many times as I’ve knocked myself unconscious with a shovel. I know you can’t love me like I love you.” Something wry—nowhere near a laugh but dry enough air squeezed through lungs as pained as Tavish’s—indicates something might have been amusing, once, a long time ago. “To be honest, I didn’t think I was capable of it either. Not when we met. But here we are, I’m the one who’s fucked, and it’s been too damn long Tavish I can’t live like this anymore. So I looked up that sanctuary in Minnesota and applied for the position.”

The admission hangs.

“But,” Tavish says, “even if I- if we- at least you could stay for the Keep, aye? We’re like a family here.”

Jane shakes his head. “They’re not my friends. They’re yours. I’m just the owner’s lunatic buddy they tolerate because they like him so goddamn much.”

“That’s not…” It’s not true. And if it’s true, then it’s because disrespecting Jane is as good as disrespecting Tavish, because Jane’s part of his life. Is his life. “Jane you’re…”

“…I didn’t know if I was going to tell you before I left,” Jane says. “It was probably the honest and American thing to do, to tell you, but there is cowardice in all of us. I’m sorry. For everything. I need to go pack.”

Tavish doesn’t stop him when he steps past and through the plain black door and into the kitchen. What can he say? Already committed as he is to not talking him out of it, still reeling from…from being blind. For not knowing. He finds himself in the kitchen, and it’s by accident when overhears the commotion from the tavern proper.

“-That you are all ungrateful MAGGOTS,” Jane is saying. Tavish has heard him rant before, heard him deride each and every person now clustered awkwardly around him on an individual basis, but he’s never heard something like this. “That man in there has done everything for you! He has listened to your woes, he’s wiped up your big sobby tears when no one else would, he’s guided you to love and support and what have you done for him in return? NOTHING! You take and you take and at the end of the day all you want is more of what he already gives you. You are nothing but a clat of writhing, steaming, WORMS, and when I am gone you WILL treat him better.”

Jane’s voice cuts off sharply. Tavish can only see him from the back, the slope of his shoulders, the way his uniform cuts a silhouette in the fading light from the stained glass.

“You better,” he says softly.

And then Jane is gone, seashells clattering, and Tavish still hasn’t said goodbye.

The assembled patrons are all in various stages of shamefacedness, some stepping from one foot to the other, some staring anywhere else but at the bartender who's just appeared at the kitchen door with an expression that tells that his whole world has just ended.

“Tavern’s closed for the day,” he informs them emotionlessly.

It’s a rash thing to do, but he doesn’t care. How could he care about anything anymore? The supposed family doesn’t wait around to be told twice.

That night, he drinks himself to unconsciousness in record time.

When he wakes, he thinks ruefully that this is the exact opposite of what Jane’s been telling him all this time, about how he needs to take better care of himself. And really needs to now that Jane will be gone. No one looking after him but himself anymore. That’s the only thought that stays his hand as he reaches for the spare whiskey in the bedside table, makes him draw it back and use it to wipe the dried drool from his mouth. Jane won’t be there on his favorite stool anymore, flashing Tavish a smile on busy nights. He won’t break into the kitchen out of misplaced paranoia, he won’t convince Tavish that a drive out of town won’t kill him as long as there’s a new rib place on the other end. There will be a hole in Tavish’s life where Jane once was, and that is all that awaits him in the foreseeable future. Fuck. Why couldn’t he have seen it? Not that Tavish knows what it’s like to fall in love with someone who doesn't-

Well let’s face it. Tavish doesn’t know what it’s like to fall for someone, period. But he can imagine how painful that would be, and if it’s already gone on too long, already become too much, there’s no way he can ask Jane to put up with more of it. Christ, how many times has he botched a relationship because he’s fallen short? Granted, it’s always been with lassies, and lassies he was already dating, but it’s still the same mistake in different packaging. What I need is not in your power to give is what Jane had told him once, and he had been right, though not in the way he’d thought.

Tavish gets up, but doesn’t find it in him to shower. He wraps himself in a blanket and stares at the opposite wall, eye unfocused as he processes the fact that while Jane had the misfortune of falling for him, in the end it’s Tavish’s fault that he’s losing the most important person in his life.

The self-pity wears more heavily on him than the alcohol ever could. It’s only his errant bladder that finally forces him to move, and when he returns he sees the unread message flaring on his phone screen. Pyro’s contact information is a single flame emoji.

i know you kicked us out of the tavern but it’s really important that we see you today. can we come over?

Tavish doesn’t know who we is, assumes it's them and Scout, and naively replies sure. We turns out to be every person he’s ever met.

It seems that way at least. It’s mostly the regulars, more than there were last night, and Tavish sniffs out an ‘intervention’ faster than it takes for you to say scrumpy. But they’ve already seen him take one step into the tavern, and he can’t back out now. What is he going to do? Run out of his own place of business and hide in his room?

They’ve arranged themselves around one chair in particular, doing a right poor job of making any of this look natural, though Dell smiles sympathetically at him as he sits down. Crue smells like smoke and Tavish can practically hear the argument of ‘you better put that out before we go in there’ that must have occurred right outside the tavern door. To Tavish’s left are Pyro and a squirming Scout, more chairs behind them to support others who weren’t even there to bear witness to the events last night (since, Tavish is beginning to suspect, that’s what this is all about.)

“I’ll warn you lads,” he says to a neutral spot in between Mikhail and Ludwig’s heads. “I’m no stranger to interventions, and I’m a tough nut to crack.”

(The joke doesn’t go over particularly well.)

Even to himself his voice sounds oddly flat. Ragged. He watches the exchange of worried looks, and a whisper into Helen’s ear.

“This isn’t meant to be a fight, partner,” Dell says. “It’s a gathering of concerned friends, who are going to help if they can.”

“Doe was right when he told us off,” Mikhail says. “DeGroot does good things for all of us, and we do not help him when he needs us. Now we help.”

“Ach don’t let him get to you,” Tavish bats away. “I’m fine. I do what I do for the love of it, you don’t need to worry about me.”

Pyro makes a distressed noise that belies otherwise.

“No offense lads, but you really don’t know the half of it.” Tavish truly isn’t in the mood to relay the argument to a new audience, no matter how sympathetic.

“We can guess.” This comes from Mikhail. “Doe moves. Heart breaks.”

Aw Jesus. He thought he could do this, sit and bear as his closest friends try to ‘help’ through all this, but having it said so plainly cracks the modicum of resolve Tavish has managed to collect. “It’s not…” he tries, but to his horror the pressure he’s been holding back since the news rears its ugly head. It’s bulbous and angry behind his eye, the reality that Jane’s not moving on a whim, that this has been coming down the track for ages, that it’s irreversible. He can’t make him come home. “Bloody hell.”

The whimper peters out into a true wail of distress, because Tavish is nothing if not some weepy idiot, just as Jane always said he was. The weight of everyone staring isn’t enough to keep him from sobbing, and he throws himself into the nearest waiting shoulder to blubber his woes. The shoulder turns out to belong to Helen.

She stiffens like a possum playing dead. Tavish can’t stop crying though, and he feels an utterly flat palm come up to pat him uncomfortably on the shoulder. “Ah. Hm. There there.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake. Here.”

The mellower voice of Dell commands Helen aside, and he peels Tavish off her and into his own waiting arms. Tavish transfers to the hug gratefully. He hears chairs scoot closer as he makes a mess of Dell’s shirt, the uncomfortableness audible. Well they can all suck it. If they didn’t want to see a grown man cry they shouldn’t have staged a bloody intervention.

“Hey pally, oh whoa okay yeah I know it sucks,” Scout says from somewhere behind him. “But it ain’t too late. You can still tell him.”

“Tell him?” Tavish lifts his head miserably. He assumed that sentence was going to end with ‘convince him’.

Crue groans, “yes you-” He’s elbowed sharply by Scout. “…You poor soul,” he finishes with a healthy veneer of sarcasm.

“We have talked a bit amongst ourselves,” Ludwig picks up this truly baffling train of thought. “Yes Ranger Doe has found superior employment, but he does not seem terribly excited about it. I find it unlikely that he knows your true feelings for him, and if you were to confess, he might see fit to stay. Then things can stay right as they are, all without DeGroot Keep falling into disarray!”

“Okay, ignore that last part Doc said that made us all sound like selfish assholes who only care about the bar,” Scout glares at Ludwig. “But yeah, intervention stuff. It’s obviously killing you, keeping it all balled up inside, so go shoot your shot while you still got it.”

“Hold on now,” Tavish says, righting himself and looking at his friends incredulously. “You all came here, put aside your differences and all that, because you think I’m in love with Jane?”

A collage of faces—some bespectacled some not, some incredulous others exasperated—all glance around the tables shoved together at the center of the room.

“Well…yeah?” Scout says.

Tavish is struck silent, looking between his friends. And suddenly he feels very, very foolish. “I don’t…”

“You don’t need to give us an explanation, mate.” The new voice is shocking, mainly because Tavish didn’t even realize Mick was here, pressed as he is against the corner. Even more so for the fact that he doesn’t even like Jane. “We’re just offering advice. And support. We hope you’ll at least try to sort things out.”

Every single person he knows thinks he’s in love with Jane. He wants to ask why? What makes you think that? but part of him realizes that he already has the answer.

He stands, his chair scooting a tuneless note on the hardwood floor. “I need to go. Now. I- thank you.”

There is a chorus of no worries, and good lucks, various hands patting him on the back as he struggles through chair legs to get to the door. He’d spent years wasting time, he wouldn’t squander any more.

His car starts on the second try, a beaten old thing because even if he isn’t as careless about taking his poison behind the wheel anymore, he’s still afraid he’ll forget one of these days and doesn’t want to wreck something shiny and new. It gets him where he needs to go, and where he needs to go with every fibre of his being is the preserve on the edges of town. His car growls, and screeches up to the mountain as Tavish takes every turn at 15 over.

He does not park in the visitor area. He doesn’t even stop at the end of the drive, even though the signage clearly indicates the two tracks of beaten dirt with the line of grass between are for park vehicles only. Only when he’s in the semicircle of trailers does the car finally come to a halt, dragging lines in the gravel and expelling him, panting, from the driver’s seat.

Jane is not packing. He has no box in hand, no bit of furniture over his shoulder. When Tavish’s car had come barreling in he’d been stood in the clearing west of the homes, up a wide grassy path, just watching the sun set.

Tavish runs. The urgency has meaning, even if it’s to him and him alone.

He stumbles to Jane, straightening the words, knowing he will make this count, and says, “you want me to start asking for things? Fine. I’m asking you to stay.”

Jane looks at him. The orange light behind him casts him heavenly, his expression of surprise the gold against his cheeks, the red along his shoulders. The same grass that clawed around his home whips at his ankles, the breeze shaking it and random leaves about. The expression doesn't change, still stoic and without hope as he looks at the wheezing bartender who's followed him on this pointless attempt.

The lack of reply does not deter Tavish. “Please Jane I…I can’t say I know what you’re going through, what I’ve made you go through all these years," he says. “I don’t know if I love you. But I do know that I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I’ve never asked myself what I need, and what I need is…is you Jane.”

He takes a few steps closer. The run up the western hill really has taken the wind out of him, or maybe its heart that refuses to stop its galloping pace. Either way, when he stands in front of Jane, he can’t seem to catch his breath.

Jane’s shoulders, still brushed with that blushing light, lift. “I don’t know what you’re asking me.”

“I’m asking…I’m asking to be yours.”

Tavish reaches out, forgetting boundaries, forgetting everything, and touches Jane’s cheek.

Jane’s so warm underneath the pads of his fingers, and it doesn’t feel wrong the way he thought it might. The way it’s been other times, when he’s forced himself to at least try to exercise the most perfunctory of romantic duties. There is no repulsion of unwanted closeness. It’s wholly right.

Until Jane brushes his fingers away. "I know you don't really want that. Goddammit Tavish, I know the way I love you isn't the way you...want me around. I can't stay. I can't keep fighting this one-sided war all by myself."

"It doesn't have to be one-sided," Tavish says. "Maybe we can't be like every other lovey dovey happy couple we’ve put together, but maybe we don't have to be.”

"I..." Jane glances back at the sunset, then to his trailer, the boxes lying abandoned outside.

"Isn't it worth trying? If neither of us really want you going, isn't it worth it to try something a bit unorthodox?"

"You're really mean this." Jane asks it flatly, more seriously than he's ever looked at Tavish before, which is saying something. "Being with...me."

“If I’m going to be selfish for just once in my bloody life,” Tavish says, “I sure as hell want it to be for keeping you.”

“Then...Okay,” Jane says.

“Okay?” Tavish says. He’d hoped—but also hadn’t dared to hope. Had only been concentrating on making sure his words came out in the right order, that he hadn't even considered what might happen if they actually worked. “Even though…”

Jane draws back just enough to put a hand over Tavish’s mouth. “Okay,” he repeats.

“Oh,” Tavish whispers through the fingers when they finally part.

They return to the Keep, and they are heroes coming home to the castle they’ve built.

Those he’d left behind are not waiting like solemn sentries, to Tavish’s immense relief, but they are milling about his tavern with a grimness that immediately disperses on seeing Tavish and Jane enter in together. There is an unspoken and collective sigh of relief, and then they resume whatever it was they were doing before but now with actual enthusiasm.

(What they were doing before was mostly being served Swedish Gloggs by a giddy and unleashed Pyro.)

“Why in Abraham Lincoln’s name is everyone staring at us?” Jane grumbles. It is, oddly, the most comforting return to normalcy Tavish experienced.

“I’ll tell you later,” he says. “Right now, I just want to grab a pint and find somewhere quiet to sit down for a bit. Professor Zakharov, Doctor Humboldt,” he nods respectfully to the pair of doctors as they pass, who in turn raise their mugs in salute.

“Fine by me,” Jane grunts. “Better than thinking about all the stuff I have to unpack.”

“Ah, that’s always the worst end of the packing process, isn’t it?”

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten whose fault it is that I now have to extract all my worldly possessions from a bunch of two-foot cardboard cubes after moving exactly zero miles!”

“You have my sincerest apologies.”

It feels good to say it so easily. The slight undercurrent of tension that’s run between them for years is completely absent, a tension Tavish knows he must have noticed but had ignored all the same. The way he can simply reach up and squeeze Jane’s shoulder like he did ten years ago is staggering.

There is an argument, toothless, jocular, from the table belonging to Mick, Scout, and Crue.

“Just saying you could totally spring for it,” Scout rambles on, thoroughly heedless to the pulsing vein in Crue’s forehead. “Considering you got loads on the side ‘n all…”

“What you are suggesting would cost the entire payout from one of my contracts,” Crue scorns.

“…What exactly do you do for work again?” Mick eyes him from across the table.

With the clearly enunciated syllables of a man daring you to challenge him on it, Crue says, “I am a dentist.”

Tavish chuckles, and leaves them to it. Approaching the bar nearly causes Pyro to vibrate out of their suit, head whipping back and forth with a series of mumbles that is unmistakably pleased. Before Tavish can get a word in, they disappear underneath, humming and clattering about in the various bottles.

“They were hoping you’d come back together,” Dell explains. “I mean, so was I, but they’ve been practicing mixing something special, just for the two of ya’ll.”

When they arise, they have a bottle of cognac in hand, which they promptly upend into a pair of glasses.

“…You’ve been sneaking peeks at my recipe book haven’t you, you little devil?” Tavish asks as the mix appears before him. The only reply he gets is a filter-strained giggle.

The last bit of bitters applied, Pyro ushers the drinks into each of their hands and shoos them off.

“This one of yours, then?” Jane asks, eyeing the drink as he follows Tavish deeper into the stronghold.

“Is not on fire is it? Just one of my little experiments. Though I’ll be honest, it’ll be odd to try the finished product when I didn’t mix it myself.”

The lower level beckons. Helen and Pauling are momentary obstacles, partially blocking the half-flight’s entrance. When she sees them, Pauling flashes the biggest double thumbs up ever seen between the 106th and 107th longitudes.

When they’re close, she prompts, “behind you ma’am,” to her partner, tugging on Helen’s arm to get her out of the way.

“What?” Helen interrupts herself, midway through a sentence about the inefficacy of assassins these days. “No, this is the only spot in this whole dreary bar that has lighting not reminiscent of a dungeon. We are perfectly-”

“Helen,” Miss Pauling says. And Tavish never thought he’d see the day. Miss Helen, terror of Teufort, is obediently led away by her 5’ 1” girlfriend.

The lower bar is free for their leisure. Tavish sits in one of the couches, and immediately there is warmth around him, an arm snaking forward and clutching the front of his shirt.

When he turns his head, Jane stutters, “I uh. Sorry. I’ve just always wanted to…”

“No apologies necessary.” Tavish lifts his free arm and drops it around Jane’s shoulders.

It still doesn’t feel wrong. He hasn’t hit that invisible barrier that always seems to come up when he gets like this, and that both thrills and terrifies him. The idea that it could be waiting for him in the distance, but also that it might not be waiting for him at all.

“Merasmus is going to be pissed at you,” Jane notes absently.

“That so?”

“Mm. He was really looking forward to getting rid of me.”

“Ah. Well if he tries to seek his supernatural revenge, he’ll have another thing coming. I can beat a wizard any day of the week.”

“If you think you’re going to be dueling any wizards without me, then you are a hippie and a fool, DeGroot!”

A smile springs over Tavish’s face. He raises his drink for Jane to toast. “I’d never deny you that honor. He comes rolling down on clouds and thunder to have the bar brawl of the century, you’ll be the one I call to have my back.”

“Damn straight.”

Jane clinks their glasses together, and they swill in unison.

[somethin-real]

Thanks for answering my ask....If you don't mind me asking (again), can I ask, what are your top 10 (or top 7) favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series)? Why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....

I am once again answering asks months later than I should have because time isn’t real and I never open my phone BUT I will never give up an excuse to talk about the stuff I like so let’s go

(This is in no particular order because besides the first two I can’t pick a favourite child)

1) interview with the vampire (tv)

God. This thing has taken over my brain chemistry. I first watched it as the first season aired a few years back and loved it then and now that the second season has aired I literally cannot stop thinking about it. I have watched every episode of this series at least four times, some more than others because I genuinely can’t get enough. It’s simply so perfect to me… the camp… the vampires… everyone should watch this at least once in their lives (I am also currently working my way through the books and they are so tasty)

2) nbc Hannibal

GUH. I strangely never talk about it but Hannibal was one of the first shows to rewire my brain like iwtv has. I first watched it back in high school I think after a girl I had a crush on lended it to me on a usb stick and I think it’s so perfect. I find it really beautiful in a real vile way (pos) and can watch it over and over without tiring (in fact I could probably recite many of the episodes off by heart which I wouldn’t consider a problem but Some People might). The relationship between Hannibal and Will is so palpable and harrowing and I genuinely once wrote an essay on it for uni (I got an eighty) because I’m Normal

3) life is strange 2

a bit of a random one, but ever since I played the first episode of lis2, I’ve been obsessed with it. say what you want about the lis games, but there’s something really lovely to me about Sean and Daniel. maybe it’s because it reminds me of my little brother, maybe it’s because the experience of being a Latin person in North America is so familiar, but it’s a really beautiful game and I’ve replayed it… seven times now? I think? I keep trying to get different endings but I’m weird about making people do bad stuff in video games surprisingly

4) red dead redemption 2

Look man. I like cowboys, I like the great outdoors, I like the idea that Arthur Morgan (gunslinging criminal) is actually a pretty princess. Maybe I’m projecting but he really is a beautiful woman to me. this is another game I’ve played way too many times even though playing the epilogue bit where you have to build the fence makes me want to die. also Javier and John should kiss and I want sadie Adler to be my wife

5) sarazanmai

Maybe a bit of an oddball but this is one of those anime that’s like looking at a car wreck. You simply cannot look away. What began as a strange, mythological mindfuck of a show slowly morphed into a beautiful story about queerness and friendship and love and I recommend it to everyone because I just think it’s so good

6) wildhood

This movie fundamentally changed me. It’s a Canadian queer indigenous coming of age film that I watched on a whim when I was scrolling through a streaming service on a lazy weeknight a few years ago, and I didn’t expect it to be something so beautiful and touching. It’s about a young guy named link who finds out his mother (who left him with his abusive father) is alive, and so he crosses the province trying to find her with his younger half brother and someone who’d saved him from some racist convenience store owner. It’s a visually really pretty movie, and on top of that the story is absolutely beautiful and makes me cry every time I watch it. I think I’ve forced every single one of my friends to watch this movie all the while I stared at them like this 👁️👁️ to gauge their reaction to it. please please please watch this

7) to be taught if fortunate by becky chambers

this book!!!!!! THIS BOOK!!!! I had to read this for first year English my first year of university and normally books I’m forced to read are never ones that have a hold on me but I genuinely could not put this book down. I’m also not really one for science fiction, but despite the overall premise (a bunch of researchers get cryo slept in space only to awake and find that a disaster has happened on earth, wiping out a majority of the population) I feel like it focuses less on the science fiction and more so on the relationships between all of the astronauts, most of whom are queer and in a weird pseudo poly relationship with each other. idk I just thought this book was really beautiful and fun and I think everyone should read it

8) jojo’s bizarre adventure

look. this thing had to make it on here okay. I put off getting into jojo for a long time even though I’d been thoroughly aware of it even back in middle school, and when I finally caved I watched all of it in about two months, shaking and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure the whole time. it’s just so silly and fun and I think kishibe rohan should be real (he is)

I was going to add more but my brain somehow isn’t working so I’m going to do some honourable mentions again in no particular order: yakuza series, death note, after dark by haruki murakami, anything by Allen Ginsberg, kill your darlings, it’s always sunny in Philadelphia, fellow travellers (book and show)

Thank you so much for the ask!

[digi-tama-in-your-pocket]

Okay, now that i'm actually up and around, Happy Odaiba Day everyone. I know it's generally used to celebrate the Digimon Anime, but who give a shit, I'm gonna celebrate v-pets by doing an annual overview of my V-pet collection and what I'm currently running ( don't worry, I have anime related plans later this evening )

My V-pet collecting has slowed down this year. I have most of what matters to me. A DM20th for every version exclusive, plus a few extras with special paint jobs for Holidays, though I contemplate giving away my extras. I have one of each DMX and DMX2, and one DMX3 that I bought before I realized there were plans for english versions, if Bandai doesn't localize DMX3 this year, I may bite the bullet and get the last one I need. And I have the Digivice version complete.

I have put all of these ( sans the Holiday paintjob ones ) in this neat little 3 tier storage container. I have plans to decorate it with stickers, but I'm trying to get very specific custom made ones. Also I want to get another one, because the one I got is already nearly full, and I still haven't even put my Pendulums and DMCs in it yet which as you can see below...

I have all the Pendulum Zs, two Pendulum 20ths, and 2 DMCs, and i'm expecting version 3, 4, and 5 in the mail this Autumn,

The first of the month is generally when I swap my V-pets around. But I was doing an extended run for the last few months of my DM20 to complete my log, and didn't want to put my DMC away yet, also I'm loving my Floppy Frog too much to put it away before it dies, because they don't have battery saves. So half way through the month, I put the DM20th away, and replaced it with Silver Black Pen20, and a Tamagotchi gen 2. Floppy Frog is still going at nearly 90 days, and no battery change. Amazing.

Currently running Saint Galgomon and Ogudomon.

Also, not pictured here, I'm running my Vital Bracelet BE, and I currently have Regulusmon, but I've kept him asleep the whole time, i'm literally just using it as a watch that I set ahead by 10 minutes so I get to work on time. I think he may have Evo failed anyway. I'm not a big fan of the Vital Bracelet BE anyway. I don't like the time limit you have to power up.

That's all for now when it comes to Digimon v-pets. I've got some more V-pets coming in the mail, but they're not Digimon related. I've also been on a Tamagotchi kick, and I'd like to get a Tamagotchi Uni for my birthday in about two Weeks, but we'll see how things look financially around that time.

Anyway, Happy Odaiba Day, hope yall have a fun one and make plans to celebrate.