#if it really hurts you my work may not be for you! this is a niche i am interested in and am *very grateful* to find others here are as wel

[luveline]

hii hope youre doing well! could i request coworker!james where r comes in to work sick and he gets worried?

fem!reader, 1.3k

It’s getting old, the whole charade. James didn’t like you and now he does. You used to piss him off, now you don’t. Somehow, someway, he’s seen parts of you he couldn’t help but love, in your voice, how you talk; in your hands, your touch; in your emails worst of all. Who ever thought that James could fall in love on Outlook? 

Dearest desk mate,

Where are you? It’s 9.45 and you aren’t here. You realise work starts at 8.30? Besides my worry, I need the invoice for Lang and Co. and Remus doesn’t have them either.

You’re my only hope, 

James

You email back a stringy fifteen minutes later. 

James, 

I’ll be there soon. I can’t attach the file from my phone but I will send it to you the second second I get there, I know you asked meyesterday. I’m sorry for holding you up .

James reads your email with a frown. Your typos are unlike you. He wonders if perhaps you’re texting and driving, which is abhorrent, but you walk into the office a minute later, so you must’ve been responding to him as you walked. 

You duck straight into the manager’s office. James can hear you say sorry before the door is fully closed, craning his neck for a good look at you. 

Remus laughs shamelessly. “Worried about her?” 

“About who?” he asks, even as his chair creaks and threatens to snap under his weight, leaning back to see you through the frosted glass. 

“She’s not going anywhere now she’s here, James. Nobody stops by for social visits.” 

James relents when he realises you may be in there for a little while. The rain today is aggressive against the window, condensation dripping down the windows to pool atop the radiators. You hate it; you love the radiators when they’re working in the winter, but sad summer days with rubbish weather bog you down. Either way, the condensation wets your elbows or gathers on your desk —it’s not nice. James grabs a wad of tissues from the box on his desk and begins his quick mission. 

“Oh, my god. Jamie, you can’t be serious.” 

“I'm avoiding electrocution.” 

“You’re cleaning up for her,” Remus says, putting his face in his hand to watch him with a softer smile, “it’s nice of you, really, but you can’t expect me to pretend I believe you when you say you don’t like her for much longer if you’re going to do stuff like this.” 

“Now say that five times fast.” 

His heart drops when you clear your throat, caught, sodden tissue in hand. You don’t eyeball him, there’s no scorn, you clear your throat again and all but collapse into your seat. 

“Hey,” James says. 

You tip your head back. “Hi, James.” Your eyes are bloodshot, and, to James’ surprise, you aren’t wearing a lick of makeup. You look very pretty but very tired, too. 

“You okay?” 

Remus bends around the desktop. “Yeah, are you okay? 

“I’m fine,” you drop your head back with some vertigo, and press your hands to your eyes. “I’m not very well, is all.” 

“What’s wrong?” Remus asks. 

“Just poorly. Um, I have a bad headache, and my ears are ringing, but it’s not unmanageable. I’m full of sudafed.” 

“Can’t you go home? We can manage without you until you’re better,” Remus says.

“I had all that time off a few weeks ago,” you say. You’d been ill not so long ago. 

“You can have some of my sick days,” James says immediately. 

You rub your eyes hard enough to make James’ ache in sympathy. “Doesn’t work like that.” 

“You really shouldn’t be here if you’re sick,” James says. 

“I won’t get you sick, I promise. I brought hand sanitizer, I’m not sneezing or coughing, I’m just aching.” Your movements are lethargic as you lean back in your chair, the slow roll of your shoulders and the limp cross of your arms over your stomach hard to ignore. 

James rounds the desk to chuck his tissues in the little bin beneath it. “I don’t think either of us are worried about you getting us sick, lovely.” 

Your face crumples quickly and neatens up again just as fast. “My head just hurts,” you say, rubbing your forehead. You manage to summon a wobbly smile despite your pinched brows. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” 

If it were Sirius, James would thrust a bottle of water and a pack of ibuprofen at him and tell him to chill out. It it were Remus, the expression would turn his heart, and he’d give his friend a good pat on the back. You aren’t Sirius nor Remus, you’re not so close to him that James knows what to do, but what use is he if he doesn’t try?

“Can I make you a cup of tea?” James asks. 

“That’s cruel,” Remus says, “your tea is like milky disappointment.” He stands with a smile James hates, some playful conniving mixture with good intentions deep, deep down. “I’ll make it. James, why don’t you turn the radiator?” 

“Is that okay?” James asks. 

“What?” 

“Do you think that’ll make you feel better, the radiator?” James asks. 

“I can do it.”

“No, it’s okay, it hurts your hand. I’ll turn it up.” He weaves back in between your chair and the radiator. Your desk is close enough to be faced with your thighs, but James doesn’t get half as distracted by them as he does your twitchy face. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks. 

“You and Remus worry too much.” You give him the side eye. “Why do you care?” 

“I think we’re a little bit past pretending we don’t like each other, aren’t we?” 

He turns the radiator on with less struggle than he’s anticipating and holds his hand to the bottom until he feels the metal warming. “Tell me if that gets too hot for you,” he says, standing. 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” 

“No, really,” you say, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “thanks for worrying about me. I’ll feel better in an hour.” 

“Did you eat breakfast?” He brings his hand up to wipe a stray fibre from your cheek, “Why were you late?” 

“I…” Your eyes follow his hand as he lowers it. Emboldened, James raises it again, wiping at a phantom fibre. “What is it?” 

“Little hair on your cheek.” 

“I slept late, and I felt strange in the car so I parked for a bit, and… I don’t know. I should’ve stayed home, but you know what he’s like about sick days.” 

“You feel alright now, other than the headache?” 

“Just heavy.” 

James spots Remus coming back and steps away. “You’ll be alright, okay? Don’t worry too much. Do some of the top spreadsheets and we can manage the rest.” 

“You don’t have to do that for me.” 

James does, really. Remus gives you your mug of tea and one of the plastic wrapped muffins from the kitchen, both boys keeping watch over you like a vigil. If you were well enough to notice you’d complain, but you spend the next few hours sipping at your tea as it turns cold, and nibbling at little bits of muffin, clearly tired. 

You email James the Lang and Co. invoices four hours after he’s asked for them with a sorry and a frowny face emoticon. James wants to kiss you on the forehead, feels it so strongly it becomes a different kind of wanting, to look after you and for you to want him to do that. He’s in way too deep. There’s not much he can do. 

“You want some more tea?” he asks, leaning over to grab your discarded mug.

“Yeah, please, Jamie.” 

James’ fingers wobble around the mug. 

Remus glances up from his phone. 

“Of course,” James says, smiling, “coming right up.” 

Jamie, he thinks. Friends call him Jamie. He can be your friend, he’d love to be your friend, but Jamie. Even sick, you say it sweetly. He trips over himself trying to get what you asked. 

[bowieandqueen11]

Exchanging Pleasantries / Cooper Howard Imagine

Request: Could you please do hurt/comfort with The Ghoul? Like, maybe you got hurt during a fight with Raiders and he's being mean while stitching you up. Thanks pookie bookie ily

Omg bb @itsyellow ily too I couldn't wait to write this!! Hit me with that hurt/comfort that's my jam son

Also did I make this full of unresolved sexual tension? Frick yeah I did

As always, if you enjoyed please drop a comment to help me out and let me know!

Warning: slightly NSFW/ making out, mentions of injury and violence, slight mention of a choking kink? and some strong language!

(I do not own Fallout or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

'Y'know, you may be one of the stupidest goddamn people left on this planet. And I've seen a hell of a lotta stupid people.'

You know better to think that the one and only Ghoul: the slinking shadow that steadily tails and entraps every inch of the starkly barren world he can reach, the infamous bounty feared in every town, from Philly to Rivet City, would be one for pleasantries. Yet, even during your brief period travelling with the man across the wake of the formerly 'glorious' West-coast America, his callousness often left you wishing for the sweet silence of a Nuclear Winter.

Even Cooper Howard himself recognises the fact that he doesn't exactly, well, radiate off anything that could be called close to a succouring nature. Hell, he would be happy to radiate off anything that wouldn't have you spending his valuable time making detours to wandering doctors holed up in blood-splattered tents to use his hard-earned money in bartering for caps off your next bottle of Rad-X. He supposes, as you had shaken the bottle in front of his frowning face and wandered back off into the crowning desert sun, that if he could work himself back up to being unenthused, he would be able to count it as his first win in over two hundred years.

'Well, if you tried to stop fighting every single person still left out here I wouldn't have to risk my ass stupidly running in to save you', you retort, gnashing your teeth and trying your best not to squirm against his chest as he rips a fragment of broken plate from the back of your shoulder.

It wasn't often that you were allowed to light a fire in the wilds of the Wasteland: far too many radroach nibble bites littered your legs, far too many gash-covered tentacles slashes from the repulsive Centaurs marked your outer arms. However, as the two of you had spent your seemingly so lovely afternoon out on the highway being ambushed by a group of bloodthirsty Raiders, you had browbeaten the Ghoul into allowing the two of you such a special treat. An empty bottle of Nuka Cola lies by your faded makeshift floor covering that acts as your mattress, and you sigh in relief as the warmth of the flames licks across your tired arms.

Your soon drawn out of your repose by the feel of The Ghoul's cowboy boots thumping against either side of your legs; he awkwardly tries to leave enough room that he's not straddling your back, but his legs won't quite dip down enough to be more than halfway off the floor.

It leaves him having to scrape himself forward until his groin is nearly pressed against your tailbone, and you can feel the hem of his hat brush up your neck as he idly surveys the extent of your injuries. As he fidgets the strap of your vest down past the joint of your shoulder, you have to breathe in sharply to stop yourself grunting at the sharp scratch of his glove's rough seams as he drags his hand down.

'You're right', he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, dragging a strip of musty cloth out of his satchel bag and pressing it against your oozing wound. 'Your ass really is fucking stupid if you think that you were helpin'.' You grimace as a flash of stimulation and mortification flashes through your body; whether the pain in your gut is from the flesh wounds or from the clutch of thick leather as the Ghoul tantalisingly rakes his fingers up the tender skin of your shoulder and grips, you're too distracted to try and find out.

Sweeping your eyes over the fire-brushed ground that cracked and and crumbled underneath your heel, you can understand his frustration at you. At the world. Scorch marks litter the dusty ground around your make-shift campsite, the plasma rifles and energy weapons the Fiends had managed to barter, steal, and smuggle out from the Van Graffs stock lying in blasted pieces around the fragments of rusted metal once shielding the long gone diesel pumps. The violence - the anger, it always seemed never ending. Gosh, what you wouldn't give for a canopy right now: to stop the sun burns from blistering your face, to hide the sudden hush of shame and embarrassment that rose flush up your face like a mushroom cloud.

'Yeah, well, I did come running- you're welcome, by the way-', you start, but the Ghoul, as venomous a man as he is, cuts short your reply by prodding the point of one of the needles holding the tail edge of his coat together into the hanging flaps of your skin. Your hand balls into a fist as you feel the sharp tip scrape over muscle; you try your best not to whimper as his poison slits through your veins and slithers down to corrode your very soul, but the relief. Oh, god, corruption has never felt so good as the Ghoul's free hand sliding down to cup your ribcage. His middle and ring finger took turns tapping against your waist, a slight huff coming from his mouth and tingling against the shell of your ear.

At first, you think the Ghoul is mad at you: pissed off that if any of the Raiders had survived and scampered off back to their chem-den to frenziedly retell their confrontation with a certain duster-clad gunslinger, a certain ruthless reputation - a certain long upheld persona, would be tarnished. That he was aggravated in having to waste his dwindling supply of bullets in wasting the spiky-hair fiend that had sprung out from the door of the thought abandoned Red Rocket Truck Stop just as you were busy body slamming his friend to the ground. That he was embittered at the fact that you had the incredibly anserine idea to stop off in the middle of goddamn nowhere: somewhere straight off your Pip-Boy map to nestle down for the night on your route to the New Vegas strip.

Enraged, indeed, by the fact that he may have to admit that he wanted to save your life.

'You call that running?', he puffs out a chuckle, unceremoniously wiping the blood of the needle by using the back of your vest. 'I call that leaping up yonder head over ass across that Nuka-Cola machine.' He lets go of your side, much to your disappoint, and looks at you disapprovingly as you turn around to face him. He's waving the syringe edge of a stimpak in your general direction, and you make sure to slap his hand extra hard as you grab it off him.

'You know, cowboy, you were the one that asked me to tag along. Not the other way round', you groan in exhilaration as you stab the needle into the knife wound on your thigh, and that first hit of the Stimpak courses through your muscle. Cooper has to clench his fingers into the leather of his fist to stop himself from going feral right there and then. He sniffs loudly, scrunching up his nose and casting his gaze to the fireside to try and hide his displeasure.

'Well', he manages to choke out between clenched teeth, gripping onto his own leg so harshly he wonders if he's drawn blood between his claws, 'you are such delightful company.'

For the first time in his life, Cooper Howard wants to just... ride away from his problems. That's all you were supposed to be: a solution. A resource. Another object to exploit, to foist upon his own callous needs so that he may survive another day in this merciless hell pit. A life for a hundred and fifty vials felt like a mighty fair trade in the disintegrating shit-show of post-apocalyptic commerce.

It had been easier that way, luring you away from the only small shack left among the rubble of the underground Subway Station that the Fiends hadn't left splattered with blotted rivers of crimson and half-mangled body parts. It had been so much simpler, as he had shoved the still fresh bodies of the murderers and cannibals off the side of the Metro escalator, that he was here to save you. That he had no knowledge of the bounty held over your head by the Enclave, or of the reasons that you had become so... acquainted with the New California Republic during your month long travels for the Crimson Caravan Company. As the door had groaned open, he was left pointing his pistol in your face: a towering penumbra, larger than life, that seemed to swallow every inch of swinging lamplight around your doorway in a veiled sinfulness. He had found it so much easier, as he peered down at your gloomy face and smirked as the unmistakable sound of a Ripper reared closer to his head, that he was here to be your saviour.

That's right. As he had offered you protection: a safe route away, a constant presence, your second shadow on your journey back to the Strip for only a measly few caps, he had found it so much easier to pretend that this wasn't personal. That the way you shook his hand hadn't made his skin prickle, hadn't been the first thing his nerves had alighted at since the last fading memory he had of caressing his wife. That the way you had strapped your leather armour pauldron around your left shoulder, and pulled up the hem of your trouser leg to strap a hidden knife to your calf didn't have him unconsciously dragging his tongue along the cracks of his bottom lip, and left him staring in bemusement. The incredulousness that had his eyes glazing over and the bottom of his stomach clenching as the two of you pried open the doors back up to the surface, and he had nonchalantly inquired as to who had... disposed of the Fiends before his arrival here. You had just shrugged, throwing a smirk at him from behind your shoulder, and he couldn't help but feel his own mouth twitch up to mirror your reaction.

It had been so, so much easier to pretend that you were just another bounty. That you were the first person, since he had lost Janey in another life, that had made him feel something other than contempt. Or worse, nihility. Nothingness. Just a hodgepodge script of fabricated and fictional lines that he reeled off as if it were more than just second-nature; an amalgamation of everything hollow and horrid that he had spent so much of his long-lost life trying desperately to bury.

But Cooper knew better than anyone, that nothing, and no one, could stay buried forever.

And with every returned smile: every lingering brush of some Caravan Trader's fingers on your arm as they tried to sell you some over-priced snake oil, every repulsive simper of a NCR trooper as they tried to buy you a bottle of vodka during your rare stops at some remote barrack, had the rot he had constructed within his soul become that little bit more mutilating.

The silence between you is deafening. And so you do something really stupid: you decide to ask him about his dirt-stained outfit.

'So', you drawl, turning yourself around so your legs are crossed out by your side, doing your best to stay firmly seated between the tensing muscles of the Ghoul's thick thighs. He draws his spurs in a line across the sand, but to your astonishment, and wild delight, he doesn't pull his legs open any further. 'Did you rob a real cowboy or something? I didn't think they were real. The only ones we ever saw were those rugged, way too contrived looking ones on those old movies.'

Your fingers curl over the edges of his collar, tentatively letting your fingers drop to rest against the sharp gap against his breastbone.

A muscle in Cooper's jaw jumps.

Oh. Oh. You'd never seen him actually angry before, behind all that cowboy western shooter charade.

For a moment, you're worried you've offended him somehow; a faraway look seems to draw him into the pale billows that smoke up from the orange flames, and a look that you've never seen before- never could even contemplate drooping the face of the suddenly so haggard looking man sitting by your side flitted across his scrunching face.

Forlorn. He looked so forlorn.

Neither of you are sure if he's even conscious of his arm moving, snaking itself across the small of your back to clutch almost painfully against the meat of your hip. His thumb strokes against the outline of your bone: probing, testing, clawing and pinching as if he had repeated the action over and over and over again in his mind.

'This? This is as old as the dirt and the worms.'

He doesn't react, doesn't move the frozen stone of his stoic face when you hesitantly grip onto his fingers, and slowly... god, so slowly, pull his glove off and drop it on the ground. Suddenly feeling so exhausted, your droop your head down against the dried sweat on your neck and watch yourself place your hand gingerly over his own, holding him in a wary vice against your side.

'What... what's a worm', you tentatively ask, your eyes wide open in worry that your question might break the provisionary affinity of this moment.

Cooper actually... snorts, a smirk threatening to break across his face as he looks out of the corner of his eye at you. 'An 'ol creature that used to live under the soil.' His eyes burn a hole into your irises, and he finally cracks out in a sallow grin as he contemplates the fact that he has your whole, enraptured attention. 'In fact, almost a whole lot like you.'

You smack his shoulder, but he only tilts his head back with an inquisitive gloat on his lips. He tips his head down, moving his other free hand to grab and squeeze the other side of your waist, making you woefully buck back against the bottom button of his shirt as the pit of your bottom begins to thrum with a devastating heat.

'Now', you can hear the teasing in his voice as he dips his spine down to hover over the shell of your ear. 'The real question is, where in the sweet hell would you have seen such heinous films such as those?'

His hand crawls like sweet spiderwebs across to your bellybutton, taking your breath away as he cups his palm against your skin and carts you back till your resting against the side of his chin, entangling you against the last vestige of the man he's entombed within the Stygian shadows.

'My ma used to show them to me and my brother if we had been extra good. She spent a whole three months saving up whatever metal scraps she could scavenge to go trade over at the General Store in Goodsprings and buy ourselves a real life television. The picture was blurry as shit, and we only had one holotape that I swear I ended up being able to quote back to front by the time I was sick of watching it. But hell, if we didn't crowd around the floor in wonder and dream about being a mysterious, rifle swinging stranger that roamed around the wastes saving people.'

Cooper purses his lips, swallowing thickly as he lassos your words in a whirlwind around his mind. After what seems like an eternity of listening to the soft whistle blow through the cartilage of his nose, of noting the quiet scurry of Bark Scorpions barbing through the pale tufts of faraway brushes, and the sound of your own heart hammering against your ribcage, each hit cracking your ribcage open with a sledgehammer, Cooper grumbles a reply.

'Y'know, there's an old saying back where I'm from - one that those folks in those movies you... respected use' to say. Feo, fuerte y formal. It means you're ugly, strong, and dignified. And shit, I can say for sure that you've got ugly ticked off that list.'

'You cheeky shit-', you start, but you can't help but shove your hand against your mouth to stop yourself from laughing. With a jolt forward over your stomach, you wince at the pain that flashes through your body at your only recently closed wounds. The Ghoul snarkily utters a tut tut, making you actually fucking whimper aloud this time when his hands grab your love handles, lifts you up, and slaps you down atop his lap. A faint slip from the curve of your buttocks sliding down to settle against his inner thigh has him hissing against the back of your head.

Even though there was no chance of it ever occurring, the Ghoul loosely clenched his fingers around your throat and tilted your head back until your throat went dry, as if daring you to move away from him again.

'Ain't your fault darlin'', he twangs out in that hoarse voice of his, his tongue flicking as smooth as molasses against the shell of your ear: his pointed edge darting a sticky trail up to your inner ear. 'It ain't your fault that you look like a molerat.'

You snort, and Cooper finds himself smiling at the sound of a noise he hasn't heard since his daughter was... since his daughter was...

'You remind me of someone I used to know, you know that? She was... she was far too sweet. Far too good for all this shit too.'

'Aha, there he is.' You wrestle out of his grasp and turn your head disbelievingly. The Ghoul looks almost taken aback, before he draws back into himself and fixes himself to stare you down. 'Finally making an appearance after all this time, are we? Good to see I'm finally getting through to you.'

'Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?', he bares his teeth, gnashing them together almost instinctively.

'I mean, I think that was as close to an honest exchange with the man inside you I'm ever going to have.'

That makes him start.

Pensively, he watches you, assessing and appraising the quirks and emotions that wander across your face as he waits for you to finish your accusation.

'And unless you stop sticking your blaster in the face of every creature that walks and talks, probably your last as well.'

The Ghoul swallows thickly, doing his best to seem as straight laced as usual, but growing more and more discourteous in his manner by the almost sinful way he's darting your eyes down to your lips and allowing them to hover there. 'Now darlin', I'm only exchanging pleasantries.'

'Is that really what you'd call yourself? And here I thought it was cantankerous.'

'Considering the literal crap-hole you grew up in I'm surprised you even know that word, now.'

'The sewers are empty, Cowboy - I'd say there's more piss on you from Dogmeat than down there. Besides, I lived in a Subway Station... asshole', you spit out at your feet, hitting the fragmented remains of one of your assailants helmet spikes.

A jab pokes at your inner thigh; the clenched thumb of the Ghoul branding into your skin as he finally looks you dead in the eyes with a cold stare. 'And there you are.'

And yet there's something. There's something lingering there, in the dark. In the swirl of his irises. In the only part of his body that still remains fully intact. Fully him. Something valorous. A convolution of steadfastness and pride. An imploringness.

'Suppose...', you inhale sharply, not realising that the two of you have managed to claw and scrape and crawl inch by inch closer to each other during your... showdown. 'Suppose', you buck your knees forward until you have enough leverage to haunch yourself up and turn, using the exertion to swivel yourself round and straddle the Ghoul's legs. Your gaze dips down to watch the purse of his strangled lips, his head slowly raising itself to unmask itself from the murk. 'That we aren't so different after all.'

Before you have time to regret your words, the stout pressure of clashing thumbs and fingers have jerked against your chin and pulled you down to smash against Cooper's mouth. Gnashing teeth pull at your bottom lip without a moment's warning, slicing down to draw blood. Cooper pulls back to snarl, before diving back in and licking away the thin trail of blood driplets that dribble down your chin dimple with the flat edge of his impoverished tongue.

Your chest rises and falls in quick succession as the man leaning his weight eagerly against your stomach ravishes you, growling as he reaches down to pull at the bottom of your thighs, and raise your knees up so he can cup your ass and knead the sweet flesh.

Part of you wants to rip his clothes off him right there and then, part of the recesses of your mind worries about the impending danger of the Wastelands: a roaming gang of looters, the unlucky shimmer that forewarns the arrival of a Nightstalker, but all of you wants to slam your hands around the side of this man's face and knock him straight to the ground with the ferocity of your kiss.

Before you can even make it past the squishing his cheeks phase, you’re distracted from your plan by the pressure point of his fingers teasingly prodding against the outline of your inseam. You can't enact your plan - you can't, not when you can feel the tip of his finger run slowly... slowly... god! So agonisingly slowly up your inner thigh. Can feel the warm, almost ruinating nibble of his top teeth against the pulse point of your neck, before he leaves an apologetic slide of his inner lip against it: something bright and burning and beautiful making the nerves of his body scream as it gnaws away at their rot.

Perhaps, perhaps there was still time for the Ghoul to exhume the mouldering remains of Cooper Howard after all.

[hotpinkstars]

HIIII I JUST READ YOUR BOOTHILL IDEA ABOUT PREGNANCY AND I AM WELL FED 😭 i love how angsty it is. oh boy i'm sure struggles a lot during his s/o's pregnancy. like...it has lots of cry and self-conflict because he may thinking that he isn't helping his s/o. there gonna be small arguments and misunderstandings. it's hard for the both of them and the baby. 🥹

ohhhh yes. yup. decided to take a real angsty route with this one. I added some mentions of his actual backstory here, bc my og one was written before his backstory was released lols

Boothill definitely cries during your whole entire pregnancy. He also has a lot of bad thoughts about himself during it, too. 

At first, he tries to hide it, and either subtly cry, or just simply wait until you’re no longer in the room or the house. He doesn’t want you to know that he’s not happy because of the state he’s in. 

He used to be human, he used to be flesh, and most importantly, he once had a daughter of his own, and that's what crushes him the most. He fears so much that he’s almost going to replace her, even though he knows deep down in his heart that it most definitely wouldn’t be able to happen. 

He also feels so bad about not being able to do normal human things for your during your pregnancy :(((( he knows how much you want to be able to be soft and intimate, to take baths and be able to have a cozy massage and just a cozy person around in general, and he’s the exact opposite of that. He doesn’t even think he deserves the husband title anymore.

He literally once asked you why you’re still with him and not someone else. You explained that you loved him and you wanted to be with him, and even then he never really expressed the way he felt about himself to you but you could sort of see it in his eyes. He didn’t like the way he was and the fact that he can’t be what he refers to as a “proper dad” to his kid. 

He knows it’s hard on you, too, and he also knows that you’re catching onto his harsh thoughts, and you’re catching on fast. It caused an argument a few times, on how you’re hurt that he’s not expressing his emotions, he doesn’t want to, it turns into a “do you not trust me or something?” conflict on your end, and a “I just don’t know what to say without hurting you” conflict on his end. Misunderstanding that likely won’t just dissipate. 

There was one argument that you both had when you were nearing pretty close to your due date, and he decided he was going to walk out midway through and not come back for about a week. For some reason, he chose a petty route, leaving you anxious and super betrayed, considering he refused to answer his phone, too.

The argument was over something that seemed incredibly stupid, if you both must say so yourselves. He was, once again, insecure, and he wouldn’t tell you why. That was what bothered you- did he not trust you enough? Did he seriously not want to be a part of this baby's life? Why else would he just walk out?

To say it made you super anxious, scared, and lonely was an understatement. You were left with the thought that you’d have to give birth alone, and go back to your original game plan that you already mentally set up. You thought he genuinely left you.

That was, until he walked back into the house on a random afternoon that next week. He ran up to you and apologized, allowing you to cry it out in his steel arms. He felt so horrible, and he vowed to you to never, ever do that again.

He tries to start letting you in on his troubles from that point on, but there still seems to him like there's a barrier blocking his words from coming out. Sometimes, he just blames it on his synesthesia beacon, which seems to work for now. 

He also lets you see him cry more often, but that stops when you give birth. He doesn’t need you to be more overwhelmed than you already will end up being.

[writingwithfolklore]

How Conflict Causes Character Change

              You’ve heard me say over and over again that your character arc is your plot and it’s driven by conflict. But that’s easy to say and a lot harder to do. How does conflict actually inspire change? Let’s talk about it:

1. Choose your conflicts

Not every conflict is equal, and it may be harder to justify change for some conflicts over others. The type of conflict that’s going to inspire change will force your MC to come face to face with their flaw.

       Okay for example maybe your character’s flaw is that they self sabotage whenever things are going well for them. A conflict they could run into is that they’re working on something with someone they care about, and their sabotage not only impacts them, but the person they’re working with as well.

              While they may be used to and fine screwing over themselves—facing the consequences of hurting someone they care about may inspire them to try to work through their flaw or make a real change in their life.

2. All conflict comes with consequences—or it’s not really a conflict

Leading from the last point, note that it’s the consequence of something happening that truly makes it a conflict, and allows it to inspire change. One thing my screenwriting prof always used to ask us was, “why hasn’t your character reached their goal yet, and why haven’t they already overcome their flaw?” You have to justify why they are in the place they are in at the start of the story.

If their flaw is self sabotage, just facing the consequences of their self sabotage wouldn’t be enough to inspire a change—because if it was, why haven’t they changed yet? So consider what consequences to their flaw they’d have to face to really force them to change. Hurting people they care about, taking away things they want, allowing their enemy to gain the upper hand, etc. are all good consequences outside of their usual that may inspire change.

3. One conflict spurs another

To help with driving the story with conflict, consider how each conflict you create can spur the next. Following our example, maybe our MC screws something up for someone they care about, then that person decides not to stay friends with them, or tells someone else what happened.

Conflict can also come from seemingly good or harmless acts, like holding the door open for someone about to rob a bank, or writing an article for a relatively unknown newspaper that turns out takes an extreme political stance in your world, etc. Each action should have its consequences that leads to more action that leads to more consequences. With enough of that cycle, the gradual change of your MC will be believable and propel their story.

[its-knifewife]

Memorial Day Weekend is the biggest sale on mattresses of the year

so of course I am doing a donothon for a new mattress the following Friday. Friday May 31st - join me on Twitch for a donothon for a new mattress because my back f&%king hurts and I really want to sleep comfortably. *First 5 people to donate $100 in a single donation get a custom made fragrance bundle, which includes a soap, candle, perfume/cologne roller, room/linen spray and air freshener - We will work together to make something custom for you and it will be sent to you with FREE shipping. USA only, due to shipping restrictions for perfume. You have to be comfortable giving me your address. PO Boxes also work, but please let me know your PO Box dimensions.

*Donate a total of $50 and I will put your Sim through the Death Gauntlet. If you don't already have a Simself, I will make you one based off vibes/pfp. Death Gauntlet stream will be announced TBD.

*Cheap Crowd Control Day: The game is TBD later, but we will do a cheap crowd control day where everything will be soooo cheap for you to torment me (and possibly my friends) . Community will vote on the game and I/we will play it.

*Highest (total) donor will be an NPC in a one-shot that I will run with my friends. We will stream the one shot, and I will be DMing. I will work with you to determine what kinda vibe you'd like the NPC to be, and I will put them in the one-shot with a guaranteed appearance.

$100 - Final Fantasy 6

$250 - Modded Left 4 Dead with the homies

$500 - Cheap Crowd Control Day

$750 - Darkest Dungeon

$900- Dragon's Dogma 2

$1200 - Hades

$1500 - Sea of Thieves

$2000 - D&D Oneshot

$2250 - Chat creates a dnd character with me - this is a separate NPC that will appear in the oneshot, and it will be voted on what type of character it is, including lineage, class, subclass, personality, etc.

$2500 - Face Cam in Crow Kigurumi

[class1akids]

firstly, i just want to say thank you for your posts! they're always worded so perfectly and they're a gift to this fandom. shoto is such an amazing character and such a joy to read through your posts. this is a silly question because it's not only speculation but this info got released weeks ago, but i recently found out that shoto's masterpiece line was cut from the volume release and i wanted to know why you thought that was? it seemed like a nice line

Thanks a lot! I'm always happy to spread the Shouto-appreciation. I've spent an insane amount of time analysing the volume changes and what Hori was trying to convey with Shoto Todoroki: Rising, which I think is by far the least straightforward of the rising chapters.

First, I think that it's important how he redrew Shouto - especially look at the way his hand is posed - open, more gentle, not having his quirk hover there ready to fire and the way his neck is tilted also conveys a kind of non-threatening presence.

He resembles much more someone reaching out than let's say pushing someone down.

And I think this is also why those lines were cut.

I feel like Shouto's original intended message here is that he's seeing Touya - he sees that he wants acknowledgment and respect for his hard work and his quirk and Shouto is ready to give it to him. Shouto doesn't want this toxic competition to continue where they burn each other to the ground to prove who is "better or stronger". So Shouto wants to acknowledge Touya and say that his fire is really impressive. He knows how hurt Touya was about Shouto's "masterpiece" status and he wants to reassure Touya that he's not less valuable than him.

But "masterpiece creation" line carries a lot of negative connotations in the Todoroki family. Because in the end being a failed creation or a masterpiece doll are both deeply dehumanizing and make both Touya and Shouto just tools, objects of Endeavor, instead of the connection they started to build as brothers. So I think maybe Hori decided to emphasise that this dialogue between them is not about Endeavor now, but their own bond, their own understanding of the other person not viewed through the framework Endeavor created.

And the other reading of the "masterpiece creation" line (and this is how I read it when the chapter first dropped) is a big "fuck you, dad" from Shouto to Endeavor. It's him saying - look at Touya, look at the logical endpoint of your crazy experiment, look at the masterpiece you always wanted. But given that Endeavor here is already down, that may look like Shouto is kicking him while he's already hurting and prompting the apology which makes it feel weaker.

I wonder if Hori will pick up this idea of who is the masterpiece in the epilogue. We will see, but for now, the above is my best guess of why the line was cut.

[sanjoongie]

Speak Up

Jealous! Teez {a collab with the pirateeznet crew. See Flurry's @flurrys-creativity here and here. With more to come from @daemour and @mingsolo!}

ღPairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader (f)

ღAu: idol au

ღTrope: established relationship

ღGenre: fluff

ღRating: PG-16, MDNI (regardless of the genre I do not allow minors to interact with my work)

ღWarnings: just a little jealousy nothing a few apologies can fix

ღWord Count: 929

ღSummary: Wooyoung isn't too keen on you going to a Stray Kids concert, and may or may not have something to do with liking Bang Chan's ass

“Wooyoung,” You deadpanned for the umpteeth time this night, “Why does it matter who I’m going to see?”

“If you had told me that it was Stray Kids, I would have reacted completely different!” Wooyoung insisted for his umpteenth time tonight too.

“It’s your best friends group, shouldn’t that be good?” You insisted from your vanity table. 

“It would be if you weren’t so obsessed with Bang Chan’s ass,” Wooyoung muttered under his breath.

You slammed your lip gloss onto the table. “Wow,” stretched out the word, insulted. “You really are a piece of work, Jung Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung whined when you said his full name. “Babe!”

“Nope, don’t even.” You threw your hands up and skirted around his body.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Wooyoung insisted behind you.

You pulled your leather jacket from your closet by the door. “Finally, something you’re right about tonight.”

Wooyoung looked like you had slapped him in the face. “How’s it going to look when my girlfriend is going to a concert of another boy group? Of the same generation as me? Without me???”

“I told you my friends bought those tickets as a present!” You shouted. Please don’t cry, please don’t cry, please don’t cry you chanted in your head.

Wooyoung side eyed you with a dirty look. “Still.”

“Still nothing,” You spat. You looked at your phone and saw the text message of your friend saying they were here. “I’m gone. I’ll sleep at my friend's house tonight. Bye,” You said flatly.

“Fine,” Wooyoung spat back.

You enjoyed the concert. You didn’t want to bring down the night by telling anyone that you had a fight with Wooyoung just before you left. So you cheered with your friends, sang along with the songs you loved and danced until your booted feet hurt. You loved your fit and you were sad Wooyoung didn’t comment on it. You had been looking forward to his praise. 

You sighed heavily as your friend drove your group back to her place after the concert. “Post concert blues already?” she said from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” You pasted on a smile, “I miss Bang Chan’s ass.”

Another friend in the passenger’s seat giggled. “Don’t let Wooyoung hear you say that.”

“He can go suck a donkey’s hoof,” You muttered.

The friend beside you in the back nudged you with her elbow. “You know I love your sayings but that doesn’t sound like your normal teasing.”

“Wooyoung was angry I went to this Stray Kids concert,” You blurted out.

“I knew it! Wooyoung did hear you talk about Chan’s ass, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but I love his ass? I was just fangirling!” You protested.

“When was the last time you said you liked Wooyoung’s ass though?”

Shit, when was the last time you had patted him on the butt and said he had a fine ass? But normally if Wooyoung was feeling like he needed something, he was clingy and borderline asked you to make him feel better. What was different this time?

“Hey… do you guys want to drop me off at home? Please?”

When you got home, the entire place was dark. You felt like you were sneaking through your own home. You found Wooyoung curled up on your bed with one of your sweaters from early today, watching his comfort movie. You could tell he was on one of the later Harry Potter’s by the deepness of Ron’s voice. 

“Woo?” You called out softly.

Wooyoung jumped even with the soft call out. He shouted and threw some hands. You wanted to giggle but you were worried that it would hurt his pride more and you didn’t want that. “I came home instead. After the concert…”

Wooyoung pushed his lips to the side of his face, not looking impressed. “‘Kay,” he replied. 

You cleared your throat. Whatever the issue, you didn’t want to be mad at Wooyoung and you didn’t want to fight. You’d swallow your pride and apologize, if only to see his smile again. “I’m sorry I said I liked Bang Chan’s ass. I hope you know I like yours better.”

Wooyoung looked taken off guard by the precise apology and then bursted into laughter. He was rolling around on your bed and you started to frown because he really wasn’t stopping.

“Hey! I mean it! Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung managed to get his laughter under control and sported a grin. That was much better. “How much do you like my butt?” He preened a bit.

“Well you don’t have to say it like that,” You can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. “I like it a lot. A lot a lot.”

Wooyoung opened his arms and you rushed to them. You crawled across the bed and threw yourself into his embrace. He hugged you tightly, humming. “I’m sorry too. I should have said something.”

You smacked Wooyoung’s chest. “Nothing usually stops you! What made it different this time?”

“I dunno,” Wooyoung deflected. 

“Wooyoung,” You growled.

“Bang Chan would kill to have someone like you. You could have him if you wanted to. I just thought--BABE, OW?” Wooyoung screeched when you pinched him.

“I want you, Wooyoung,” You said quietly but firmly. “Next time you’re thinking bad thoughts like that, you tell me them immediately, so I can hit you.”

“Well I’m not going to tell you if you’re going to pinch me,” Wooyoung pouted, rubbing his chest.

“You better!” You shook your finger as menacingly as you could. “Otherwise, there will be repercussions!” 

“Repercussions?” Wooyoung looked interested. 

Once a brat, always a brat, you supposed.

[deathsbestgirl]

the thing about little green men is. scully feels like she lost a friend when they got separated. it seems like he cut contact, and he's so obviously off. it hurts her when he doesn't respond to her in the hall, just walks by and doesn't really see her. and so she sends their signal and they meet in the parking lot and she tries to pull him out of it. tries to find a way to work together again and give him a little hope. and later, he tells her "i may not have the x files scully, but i still have my work, and i've still got you, and i still have myself." it's so bittersweet to me. they're not just partners but it takes them so long to call each other anything else (and often they define each other by what they're not) — yet he can say this to her!

[rougecreator1]

Hii, do you mind doing a poly!plastics x reader where reader gets hypothermia 'cause she fell on a river during winter while she (or the pronoun you feel comfy writing) was out with the plastics on a date or something and the girls just try to stay calm and help reader get warm, rushing to one of the girls house with Gina's car so they can get a lukewarm bath after helping with body heat (nothing more than bear hugs and skin-to-skin cuddles in my mind tbh but feel free to do whatever you have in mind). They freak out a little when they notice reader isn't aware of what's going on (being lucid and answering things) but everything gets better in the end with fluff and assurance from the reader that she's fine now (since her girls are still on their toes about it) :D

Tysm for your fics, they've been making my days better and your last one is not an exception 😊❤️

Burning but it's Ice Cold ||

|| poly!plastics x fem!reader

(i myself am poly!)

|| Warnings: Regina soft for reader, mentions of panic attack, brief hypothermia descriptions, Reader's hurt, hurt/comfort fic

If I missed a warning lmk

|| Summary: reader and the girls go ice skating at Regina's cottage, reader gets distracted by the northern lights and falls through a thin spot of ice. The girls work together to comfort and warm up reader.

Requests open!

Started: May 13th

Finished: May 26th

~~~

It was a cold, February afternoon. You and your girls were staying up at Regina's family cottage for the weekend, enjoying a much needed break from NorthShore drama. Lately it's been feeling like there's some new fire to put out every damn day. The four of you really needed this break.

You were chilling on the couch, sipping a tea when you remembered something you had seen on your way up to the cottage. Maybe about a seven minute walk from here there was a frozen over lake, you grinned as you got up the from the couch and rushed to the kitchen where your girls had been chatting and hanging out while Gretchen cooks.

"We should go ice skating!" You say suddenly, getting their attention.

"Huh?" Regina blinks at you, ice skating?

"Yeah! There's like a frozen lake maybe ten minutes from here!" You smile, bouncing on your heels as your girls exchanged looks.

"I think my parents might have some old skates in the shed. Gretchen, go check." Regina says, Gretchen nods and quickly goes to look for the skates. (the food was forgotten but its okay because its a fanfic)

"Is ice skating like skateboarding?" Karen asked, you and Regina shared a look.

"Mm... I guess?" You tilt your head, thinking a little too hard on it to find the similarities between the two," though it's closer to roller skating.. only on ice."

"That's like really cool." Karen replied, you gave her a soft smile and walked over to give her hand a gentle squeeze as you kissed her cheek.

Gretchen comes back a few moments later, struggling to carry four pairs of skates. You quickly run over and take a few from her to help her out, she gives you a grateful smile as she kisses your cheek.

"Thank you, Y/N/N. Hopefully these will fit." She looks down at the skates, there's one pink pair which were clearly Regina's as on the side there was a slightly darker pink glittery R written in calligraphy. You handed those skates to Regina, she rolled her eyes but took them.

Gretchen handed a pair to Karen. You and Gretchen held the last two pairs for yourselves.

"Alright! Let's go!" You grinned, running to grab your coat and quickly pulling it on before sprinting out the door.

It was getting darker, but the sky was lit with northern lights that shone bright and kept a soft glow on the ground to light up your way.

Your girls quickly caught up to you, dressed in their own respective winter gear and the four of you marvelled at the lights.

All of you took some pictures, as well as a group photo where Regina had her arm draped around your shoulders as she kissed your neck.

You shivered at the feeling but the smile never left your face.

When you finally arrived to the lake, all of you put your skates on. Gretchen helped out Karen with hers since she was having some difficulty with her laces.

Once the laces were tied, Gretchen stood and kissed Karen's cheek. By this point you were already out on the ice with Regina, Regina showing off some twirls while you cheered her on. Who knew Regina had a hidden talent for ice skating?

Gretchen and Karen soon joined you guys on the ice, Karen recorded Gretchen for tiktok while Gretchen did some of her own twirls and such. You had begun exploring the iced lake, skating further away from the group.

You went a good distance away. Your gaze going to all the colourful lights in the sky, completely distracting you from your surroundings. You don't notice that you're skating over a thinner spot even as the ice cracks beneath you.

Regina had started following behind you, her body tensing when she heard the ice crack.

"Y/N!" She yelled, pulling your attention from the lights and towards her. You stared at her in confusion and were about to ask 'what' when you suddenly dropped. A scream leaving your mouth.

You fell through the ice, desperately grasping for anything to hold. The freezing water touching your body like sharp knives. Your eyes began to close when you felt someone grasp your hand and pull you out.

Regina pulled you out of the water, her arm draping around your shoulders and holding you tight to her side as she helped you stand.

The next half an hour went by in a whirlwind of panic, Gretchen freaking out the most. Karen helping Gretchen through multiple panic attacks. Regina was the most calm, she internalized it all so there was at least someone stable enough to help you. As for you, you barely had any idea what was going on. The cold was making you go in and out of consciousness, you could barely feel any of your body. Did you still even have a body??

When they finally get you to the cottage, Gretchen gets the fireplace going. Adding in some logs then lighting it using some old scrap paper. Regina brings you over to the fireplace, taking a seat on the sofa and pulling you in her lap to keep you warm. Your whole body shook, lips were purple.

Karen frowned at the sight but then suddenly smiled as she got an idea," I'm gonna go make a hot chocolate and start a warm bath!" She says happily, Gretchen turns her head in Karen's direction then glances at Regina.

"I'll go keep an eye on Karen, you okay here?" Gretchen asked, Regina nodded and made a shoo gesture before her hand came and rested on you. Her hands trailed along your trembling body as a feeble attempt to keep you warm while Karen prepped hot chocolate and a bath with Gretchen's help.

You had curled yourself into a ball in Regina's lap, head rested just below her chest as you hugged your knees. You kept you eyes closed; barely able to focus on anything around you. You knew Regina's hands were moving along your body, but you could barely feel anything.

Regina looked down at you and gave your cheek a gentle tap," You still with me?" She asked, having noticed your eyes were closed which made her panic just a little. You made a small grumble in response and your eyes opened slightly to look at her. She was more relieved than she would ever admit," just keep your eyes open, baby. Can you do that?" Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, but then again. Somehow she always had a soft spot for you.

You nodded slowly, not really wanting to keep your eyes open. But you did as Regina asked, you always did.

Karen comes over with the hot chocolate, decorated with whip cream, various sprinkles on top and a swirly straw. She handed you the cup but you weren't able to grasp it, so Regina took it from Karen's hands and held it up to your mouth for you. You took a sip with the help of the straw.

"That's it, good girl." Regina whispered in your ear, a light smirk on her lips. She knew exactly what she was doing. She looked at Karen who was there smiling at them," Is the bath ready?"

"Yep! Gretchen's got it going!" Karen replied.

Regina looked down at you, seeing the soft redness on your cheeks. She couldn't tell if it was because of how cold you were or if it was from what she had said before. Her hand rested on your hip, gently grazing it with her thumb. The feeling made you shiver more than you already were.

"Think you can stand for me?" Regina asked, you looked at her and gently shook your head. Still sipping hot chocolate.

She frowned at that and handed Karen the cup, you pouted a little as your hot chocolate was stolen. "Hold onto that." Regina stated, then stood with you in her arms. She carried you up stairs, Karen following behind with the hot chocolate. She tried taking a sip of some, but the straw went to her nose instead and made her flinch. She did get it to her mouth though after another attempt. Karen doesn't have the best luck with straws.

Regina got you into the bathroom where Gretchen was pacing as she waited. She stopped and looked at you, frowning when she saw you were still shivering.

"I googled best ways to help hypothermia and you're not supposed to put too much heat on them at once, so I made sure the water wasn't too hot or too warm." Gretchen rambled out, Regina didn't respond. She was more focused on you as she started removing your clothing.

Once she had you undressed, she placed you in the tub with Gretchen's help.

"Stay with her. I'm getting her warmer clothes." With that, Regina headed to their shared room at the cottage and started digging through the dresser for anything that looked warm while Gretchen kept an eye on you in the bath.

After all that was done, you were starting to feel better. A little more present at least and less trembly. Regina came back with fresh clothes. The two helped get you out of the tub while Karen was off getting your comfort movie set up in the bedroom.

Gretchen got you dressed and then her and Regina helped you into the bedroom where Karen was waiting. She pressed play on the movie and the four of you laid in bed in a cuddle pile, you in the middle as your girls surrounded you. You made a soft sigh.

"I'm okay now.." You mumbled, Gretchen and Regina looked a little surprised when you talked considering you haven't said a word since before all this happened. Gretchen seemed to finally relax a bit. (Karen's too focused on the movie.)

"You sure?" Gretchen asked, hand coming to rest on your cheek. You leaned into her touch and nodded. You weren't perfect, but you were better.

"Thank you. All of you."

[042502]

☆༉ — CHRIS STURNIOLO. The Unwritten Rule.

about. Everyone knows the rule, don't fall in love with your best friend's boyfriend.

author's note. This is the chapter 7, I hope it sounds interesting to you. My first language is not English. masterlis!

I started to relax a little after working for a while. Because Anna doesn't care about assignments when it's something she wants to do, like the individual investigative report we were assigned as part of the grade. He gives everything of himself, even more.

In eighth grade, she did an awesome interactive project about Broadway. He wrote about actors and actresses who were good in their day, and used their stories in a report, almost a book due to its length, about what Broadway represents for those who were part of the works that made it important.

It was so good that our English teacher wanted to talk to Anna's mom to try to publish it, but Anna's mom is always busy, and at the end-of-term ceremony she had to leave early, even before Anna received her award.

"Here," she says, pushing aside the book she was holding. "Now I know exactly what the proposal will be for my project - Broadway's fight to keep the ever-growing members of the media on edge.”

"Wow," I say, and she smiles.

"I know! Great, right?"

"Too much.”

She stretches and leans toward Chris. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know yet," he confesses. "Maybe something about how artists practice in a society where funds are harder to find, and how there are no real stars in the field anymore. At least not the ones everyone hears.”

"Because there is no money in them, just like you said," he remarked. "It's easy to be famous for just being someone, and that's what usually pays. Or at least it gives you something." Now his eyes are on me. “What are you doing?”

I shrug and Anna nudges my leg with her foot, smiling. "You already know that," she frowned, confused. "shoes, of course. Your obsession, which is completely strange" there was silence until she spoke again which is great.

"I don't think it's strange" Chris didn't seem to share Anna's thought. "I've never been to as many Broadway shows as how many, fifty? But I'm not saying you're obsessed."

"That's different," Anna babbles, "Why are you so mean? Ada, aren't you being mean to me?"

I know what I'm supposed to say, “yes” and then Anna will say “thank you” pretending to be sad and then she'll flirt with Chris and throw herself at him and... Why does Anna have to make me feel so bad sometimes?

"Good, now you're both being mean to me" he crossed his arms, pouting his lips pretending to be sad. "He's sorry that Broadway isn't as good as what you call art, Chris." He stops looking at Chris and now turns to me. "I'm sorry I don't want to read about shoes or spend years making ones that no one will see because who looks at feet?" oh that was really hurtful.

"I need some air." Chris stands up abruptly, walking out of the room. After a few seconds he heard the patio door sliding.

"Oh shit," Anna curses.

My gaze falls to the ground. "Do you think it's weird that I like shoes? Really?" I dare to ask him, still keeping my gaze on the ground.

"No," she replied, she was looking at the door and then I see her shake her head. "Not really. It's different, but it works for you."

What are you trying to tell me?

"What do you think I should do about Chris?" I change the subject so quickly, of course after all the only thing that matters is her relationship with Chris and not how I may feel. "Boys have gotten upset with me before, but it's always been for things like I don't want to be with them or talking to another boy. I don't understand why he's upset. I haven't said anything bad about him or his art," she bites her bottom lip for a second. "Well, not really anything bad. Would you go talk to him? See how upset he is?”

"I don't want to get involved, Anna" I looked up at her, with a serious face.

"Get involved? Come on, Ada. You just have to know why he's upset with me. It's asking him a question, and you've done it before. Besides, he didn't go against you."

"He didn't go against you, either. He just came out to take a breather." Of course, it's all about you, isn't it? "And I think you should go out and..."

I stop when Anna gives me a cold look, she is upset.

"I didn't tell you everything that happened last night”

Whats?!

"I asked Mike if he wanted to go out with me. I wanted to show that I can kiss someone else and it wouldn't be like kissing Chris. But it didn't happen like that. I keep thinking about what he would do if he saw me, and it wouldn't be like she was with another guy. I can't even imagine it focusing or anything. I can only see him leaving me and…” he sighs. "I couldn't stand it, and I'm sorry I said what I said about you and your shoes. You're not mad at me, right?”

"Just hurt" I notice Anna's surprised look.

"I didn't mean to..." his voice trailed off. "When I say things like that, I don't mean for them to sound bad. You know that, right?”

I nod, because I know, and Anna smiles as she stands up. She nudges me with her knee to make me follow her.

"Let's go" is already happy again. "Talk to Chris, I'll prepare something to eat."

I stare at her, jealous, I get upset with myself for it and she bites her lip.

"I'm really sorry. I'm a horrible person. You shouldn't go out with me, and now you know why my parents never want to be around me."

Her voice breaks on the last few words, and I know exactly why Anna is the way she is, why she's so quick to say words that hurt more than she thinks. I know why she is so scared of being left behind. Why did it happen to you?

"Your parents suck. Too much," I spoke truthfully. "And I've wanted to be with you since we were in kindergarten."

"Oh really?" I nod my head in response. "Thank you" she whispered, hugging me and then she walks away and pushes me towards the patio door, we walk together towards the door without going through it.

"Look at him" we both looked at Chris. "Its not cute?"

He was standing outside, a few steps from Anna's yard, with his head down, his eyes closed. He looks tired and sad. It made me want to run up to him and hug him and tell him to let it all go.

"He's fine" I speak, Anna laughs and opens the door now pushing me through it gently. Pushing me towards Chris. He turns around as I do so.

He takes a step towards it and I can hear Anna humming as she closes the door. I wanted to go back and sit on the couch.

But really what I want is to be with him out here alone.

"Chris?" I said, hoping my body wouldn't shake like that just from saying his name.

"Hey" he said, turning to face me, the light that was supposed to shine on the back garden and exposed potential thieves or the weed or whatever was there just for him at this moment, just shining on him, and he's magnificent, and I kissed him.

I kissed him, and he kissed me, I should have talked touching his hair, I should have memorized the feeling of his mouth, there should be more than just thinking. "Yes, this is it, this is what I've been waiting for, this is how it had to be."

"Anna is very worried," I said, but the words came very quickly, as if by not getting them out of my mouth quickly enough I would stop thinking. I would stop loving. "She likes you a lot" and now my voice was cracking, but I wasn't sad, I'm not. I forced myself to smile, spreading my mouth wide. "She'll even make you something to eat."

She's never done that for another guy.

He looked at me, and I wondered if he could look inside my head, if he could see the words that I had no longer said out loud, and that I wouldn't dare say.

"Are you okay?" he asked me, still looking at me, I felt my smile slip, fade, and the silence that fell upon us was so full that I could hear nothing, neither the hiss of my heart beating in my chest, nor the sounds around us; insects, the wind, and the other distant rumbles in each other's lives in houses built close, but not too close because when you look out the window all we pretend to be seeing is the new.

But Chris is not mine.

"I'm fine," I replied. Looking over my shoulder, I caught a view of Anna moving around the kitchen, with fluid grace even when doing something as ordinary as making popcorn. She could get extra butter just because she knew I liked it, I knew that about her just like I know she had chickenpox when she was four, and she had a scar on her right ankle because of that, the only place she had been marked, her mother told her that she had been bad for doing that and it made her cry. "I'm fine" I said again, and this time when I looked at Chris I forced myself to look at him with Anna the first time, that first night at the party at the end of summer, and then the moments that came, after school, weeks of them together. Weeks, which I did because I had to see what was real.

"You should go in and talk to her" he pointed inside. "I'll give you five minutes of privacy and then I'll go in, grab my things and leave."

He looked at the ground. "Can I ask you something?"

Yeah. No Yes. I sang internally, I forced myself to shrug my shoulders, to say “sure.” Without words right now I couldn't do anything.

"Ada" He said coming closer, my fingers curled inside my sneakers, waiting. Waiting for whatever was to come. "I need to know something, you... Do you remember the party before school started? You were in the studio and I came in.”

I nodded, watching his torso work, his pale skin caught in the glow of the light falling on the darkness.

"I really wanted to keep talking to you" the words came out in a whisper. "And when I called your house the next day, I didn't call for Anna, Ada. I wanted to talk to you."

"With me?"

"Yes," his voice was rough, intense, and we were too close to touch, but we weren't, we weren't.

But I could feel everything around us, with every breath I took there was the promise of his skin touching mine, and I wanted that.

I wanted us to kiss again, I wanted him to kiss me, I wanted him.

I love him, and he is looking at me like he looked at me that night.

He is looking at me like he wants to kiss me.

"Chris" His name came out of my lips like a plea. I was afraid of this, of him, of me, especially of him and me. But not enough, not as it should. Then his head lowered toward mine and I rose to my feet, longing to find him and then...

And then Anna's mother yelled, "Who the hell parked their car in my garage?!"

author's note. If you want to be part of the taglist leave a comment below and I will add you. Thanks for reading, remember to like, share with your friends and leave a nice comment ^^

taglist. @l34n @jetaimevous @jnkvivi @loveyoumatthewbernard @d1tzy-bl0nde @laxbabe131147 @slut4chriss @dontellaf1lms @surniolozzzprincess @sturnlova @inlovewithchriss @whicked-hazlatwhore @mattsgirlsblog @nsjsnshey @always-reading @y-s-a-p @h3arts4harry

[bethanydelleman]

"the General's unjust interference, so far from being really injurious to their felicity, was perhaps rather con- ducive to it, by improving their knowledge of each other, and adding strength to their attachment"

I was thinking about this quote. Did Jane Austen mean by "adding strength to their attachment" that Catherine and Henry's attachment was not a strong one before the Colonel's interference ?

Colonel seemed more involved in Henry's "courtship" of Cathy than Henry himself. And her feelings for him seemed more like infatuation or teenager crush than a real steady love. Add to that that line about Henry being interested in Catherine because she liked him. And the proposal seemed to me more due to him feeling guilty for leading her on and making fall in love with him and taking responsibility for his father's obvious hints about a wedding. You know the " honor bound " thing. I mean he did mean it and he liked Catherine well enough.

Do you think that Austen meant that their relationship became strong after the Colonel delayed their marriage ?

To understand the last paragraph of Northanger Abbey, you have to remember that this is a satire and Jane Austen is being a bit more blunt than usual in this last bit. I will highlight the jokes:

Henry and Catherine were married, the bells rang, and everybody smiled; and, as this took place within a twelvemonth from the first day of their meeting, it will not appear, after all the dreadful delays occasioned by the General’s cruelty, that they were essentially hurt by it. To begin perfect happiness at the respective ages of twenty-six and eighteen is to do pretty well; and professing myself moreover convinced that the General’s unjust interference, so far from being really injurious to their felicity, was perhaps rather conducive to it, by improving their knowledge of each other, and adding strength to their attachment, I leave it to be settled, by whomsoever it may concern, whether the tendency of this work be altogether to recommend parental tyranny, or reward filial disobedience.

Green: Austen jokes about this delay earlier, "The anxiety, which in this state of their attachment must be the portion of Henry and Catherine, and of all who loved either, as to its final event, can hardly extend, I fear, to the bosom of my readers, who will see in the tell-tale compression of the pages before them, that we are all hastening together to perfect felicity." So the joke is that we, as readers, know it will end happily and we know it will end happily soon, because there aren't that many pages left.

Blue: It is extremely common in fiction for the protagonists to be brought closer together by interference instead of being torn apart by it, so General Tilney, in opposing marriage, strengthens the probability of it happening. He plays his stock character part very well in this story. It's a meta joke because it is so inevitable in this sort of narrative that it makes his actions silly.

Purple: Novels in this era were supposed to have a moral, but Austen jokes that her moral may be interpreted as "disobey your parents" or "be a tyrant to your children" to come to the happy conclusion. Obviously, that's not the real moral of her story, but what a cursory reading may lead someone to think.

To understand Henry and Catherine's love story, you need to know that at the time, men were supposed to have feelings first and women second, developing them as gratitude for the man liking them. So the "proper" order is:

Man has feelings

Man expresses feelings

Woman develops feelings in gratitude

Now this is extremely silly, since it's not like a girl won't develop a crush on her own. Austen is mocking this particular order of events. She's not saying that Henry Tilney doesn't love Catherine, he does, she's saying that the love happened in a wrong and scandalous order.

She was assured of his affection; and that heart in return was solicited, which, perhaps, they pretty equally knew was already entirely his own; for, though Henry was now sincerely attached to her, though he felt and delighted in all the excellencies of her character and truly loved her society, I must confess that his affection originated in nothing better than gratitude, or, in other words, that a persuasion of her partiality for him had been the only cause of giving her a serious thought. It is a new circumstance in romance, I acknowledge, and dreadfully derogatory of an heroine’s dignity; but if it be as new in common life, the credit of a wild imagination will at least be all my own.

That is why it's harmful to Catherine's dignity, because she DARED to have a crush. And obviously, Austen knows this happens all the time, which is why she jokes about it.

I hope that answered everything.

[garglyswoof]

Fragile Things

For @kastleexchange Come What May Day 1, "What Could Be" The first thing they say to each other in Daredevil: Born Again. Please note i have no clue what canon is anymore, except (hopefully) in terms of characterization. She knows it can’t last, like it’s a truce the world has temporarily granted, fragile and held together by the most tenuous of things. A house of cards, really, and she eyes it warily, even as Matt’s let down his own guard now that Fisk isn’t around. No one has stepped up to the plate to organize criminal activity on the scale Fisk had managed, his empire ran haphazardly by lesser minds, as lesser threats.

So yes, Matt has let them in more, her and Foggy, now that his nightly excursions seem almost too easy. Not that they don’t leave him bruised and battered, but he seems less afraid of pulling his friends in when there’s not a criminal mastermind behind them, just poor attempts at the throne.

Still, she‘s tense that whole spring, into summer, then the fall, waiting and watching that house of cards. The Jack of Hearts looks a little bit like Foggy, who’d grown a goatee and then shaved it off in favor of just a mustache despite Karen needling him mercilessly for it.

“Karen, I’m going through my eras of TV Hunk. We’re in the Tom Selleck phase, do you know how many women swooned over his mustache? I will not be bound by societal changes.”

“Does Marcy like it?”

He glances sidelong at her, pauses then lets out a defeated sigh. “Yes, or you know it would be gone in 30 seconds.”

“Ok I’ll work on her. Every time you come into the office I picture you sliding across the hood of a 70s muscle car like you’re in Magnum P.I. and I can’t take you seriously.”

“Reminds me of that time when Fr--” Foggy stops himself, but she knows.

“Yeah,” she says softly, her eyes flicking up to meet his gaze then leave it. “Yeah it does.”

It would be a lie to say she didn’t think about Frank, but Murdock, Nelson and Page had been a good distraction this last year. Setting up the firm, finding a new office in the Kitchen, and just playing serious legal catch-up to the two avocados at law were enough to keep thoughts of him to a dull roar (she’d bought them little namesakes, glass-blown ones with painted-on sunglasses and a mustache, from a stall at one of those weekend art festivals that were always popping up around the city).

Still, at night when she tosses her keys on the side table and the lonely weight of her quiet apartment settles into her bones, she thinks of him. Of how he couldn’t look at her in that damned hospital room, eyes darting, of how he pushed her away with his own stubborn, selfish aims. Yeah. Yeah, she’ll have a lot to say to him, if she could. 

But he’s been gone this past year, or maybe just terrorizing some other part of the country’s criminal organizations. Like she’d thought earlier, New York was missing some of its seedy underbelly these days. It’s why it worked, this house of cards.

It comes crashing down that Thursday night. 

It had been a good day, Matt heading into court in the afternoon, Foggy finally breaking the industrious quiet by announcing he’s always wanted a putting green in his office. 

Somehow that has evolved into a three-hole miniature golf course where the final hole is a ramp to Foggy’s blown-up face from an old political poster with the mouth cut out. Karen’s sides hurt from laughing as the city settles into the dark of evening. 

“Wow, you really suck at this,” Foggy laughs.

“I did not know I needed to practice -” she bursts into giggles -”putting a ball - oh god - p-putting a ball into your m-mouth”.

Foggy loses it too until a text buzzes both their phones. They both sober up from the laughter, each thinking the same thought as they reach for their mobiles. Matt’s been gone too long.

Sure enough, it’s a text from him, and Karen’s heart sinks from the vagueness of it.

Won’t be able to make it out tonight. You two have fun and see you in the a.m.

She looks up to see Foggy’s expression as he studies the words on the screen like an Ancient Text, the backlight and the now dim light in the office lending him a haggard expression. It's the first time she’s seen it in a year.

“He’ll be okay, Fogs.” She isn’t sure she believes it, but she says it anyway. She doesn’t think he believes it either, but he smiles all the same. She marvels, not for the first time, at how trauma is a form of time travel. Because despite the progress of this past year, her and Foggy both remember Matt, before, and they are right back there again in an instant.

Foggy’s expression almost breaks her heart as he nods and takes an absentminded last putt, the ball rolling up the braille legal book ramp and straight into the picture’s mouth.

---------------------------------

Karen hasn’t changed a bit, despite all that’s happened, and she knows this is a bad idea but can’t stop herself all the same. She’d said goodbye to Foggy at the office doorway, mumbling something about cleaning up the casserole dish from one of their recent sliding scale (if you could call it that) clients. Foggy had been on the phone with Marcy, but had paused - Karen’s heart aching with the kindness of him - for a moment, holding his hand over the speaker.

“You sure?” He'd mouthed before speaking in a whisper. “This isn’t about Matt, right?”

She’d shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t going to lie about that, at least. “Maybe it is, but it’s okay. I just want to have some time to think, and scrubbing cheese off this casserole dish will sadly give me time.”

He’d left then, with one worried glance backwards. She’ll have to keep an eye on her phone tonight, she’s willing to bet he’ll at least text to check in on her. 

It had been the silences from Matt that had scared them the most. She isn’t doing that to Foggy.

Still, she’s pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of her rifling through Matt’s files, her notes, and the Bulletin trying to triangulate where the hell Daredevil is off to tonight. She figures it out when she sees the line in the local crime beat from last week, from a paper she hadn’t yet let herself start reading again until now. 

Ex-FBI Officer Charged with Death of Priest, FBI Officer Escapes From Prison

She drops the paper and scrambles to her desk, pulling out the drawer that holds her purse, shaking, and grabs her gun, her breath ragged in the quiet of the office, the gun almost sucking the light out of the room, matte black. She stares at it for a moment before raising it in both hands, her feet unconsciously shifting apart to ground her. She feels the trigger under her finger, safety still on, she knows, and she presses the trigger once, twice, three times, over and over until her face crumples and she slides to the floor. 

She doesn’t give herself much time to let the pain rule her, she never does. If Bullseye is back, then that’s what Matt is looking into, and she knows he’ll need help despite not wanting it. Not to mention she has a score to settle with that psycho. Her hand shakes as she locks the office up until she stares at her fingers, willing them to calmness.

The church still looms taller than her faith, which isn’t hard to manage, she thinks wryly. The night holds an early fall chill, a breeze off the river teasing the hairs at the nape of her neck where her hair is pulled into a low ponytail. Quiet rules the street with the church lit gently by low exterior lights as she eyes the windows and tries not to think about the past. She’s almost about to give up, thinking that she’s guessed wrong, when she sees the heavy front door shift. A figure darts through, too broad-shouldered to be Matt, she thinks, then the door shuts without a noise and she’s staring into a face lit lowly for just a second before the man ducks into the shadows. 

Frank. She’s frozen there, on the sidewalk, and she knows it’s the stupidest thing for her to do so she darts off the path onto the grass that edges the church’s lot. She’s not sure if he’s seen her, and can’t spot him anymore in the darkness, and she has a moment to think - god how on earth did he just disappear like that? before he’s in front of her, finger to his lips at her impending shriek of surprise, his face familiarly blood-spattered and sporting an almost goofy grin. It doesn’t make sense, any of it, and she stares at him in confusion as he tugs her hands into his, holding her out like he wants to look at her, take stock, that grin lowering like a sail as his eyes grow more intense and how can he be so casual and what is going on and -

“Ma’am,” he says, his tone teasing. 

She relaxes, because there can’t be any danger here if he’s acting like that, but then tensing back up because honestly, what the hell? 

He must see it in her face because he rumbles an apology. ‘M’sorry. Just…seeing you like that, reminded me of…” he trails off, dropping her hands to tug at his hood in mimicry of his beggar routine. That happened forever ago, but he still remembers. So does she. “And you’re still all heart, I don’t even need to ask.” 

Something about the way he says it, almost proprietarily, pisses her off. Her eyes flash in the shadows they’ve found themselves in, pulling deeper in as a car passes and breaks the silence with loud, low bass.  “Yeah, Frank? What clued you in there?” 

She wants him to say it. Doesn’t want to have to spell it out.

His head punches back slightly, taking the blow. He changes the subject, or maybe it’s still the same one. “I came back as soon as I heard. The church’s been clean so far, surprised though. Guy like that usually wants to win where he lost.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Karen admits. “So what’s with the blood?”

He touches his face, as if reminding himself. “Research.” 

She almost laughs. 

“Where’s Red?” He rasps out.

“This was me trying to find him,” she says and watches his face soften out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry, Karen.”

She waits, staring down at where the grass, wet from the day’s watering, sticks to her sneakers.

He clears his throat. “I wasn’t there for you when he came after you the first time. Fuckin' killed me to hear about it. Killed me to know you were hurt and scared and I wasn’t around to help.”

He’s not saying the right things, but they’re still good ones. She smiles a timid smile, glances up and lets him give her what he can. She’s got a year of therapy on one Frank Castle under her belt.  “It’s okay, Frank.”

She knows he wants to say more, say something about the hospital. She pulls him in for a hug, kisses his cheek in a spot bare of blood. Maybe she’s the one that isn’t ready this time. 

“It’s okay.”

She feels his lips on her neck, a brief chapped kiss, before he pulls back and stares into her eyes like he’s trying to solve her mystery.

“I just want to find Matt, Frank. Make sure he’s okay.” 

Maybe he hears it in her voice, the unspoken later, maybe he just senses the urgency.

“Alright then, let’s go.” He grabs her hand again, pulls his hood up with another. She’s so in shock that she doesn’t move until he starts tugging. He looks back at her, casually throws back, “You’re going to do it anyway. At least I can keep an eye on you this way.”

It both pisses her off and makes her smile. Her feelings are never black and white for Frank Castle, but it definitely seems like he’s accepted some things about her, at least. She squeezes his hand that dwarfs her own, callused and warm, and follows him away from the church, into the heart of the city.

[fungalinfectionbiohazard]

frankie pics for engagement

Hey guys I need help

I'm so sorry to do this but I'm currently living in a really shit situation where I am constantly walking on eggshells, yelled at, berated, financially abused/scammed, discriminated against and more. I've hopefully got a place that I can move into for July 1st if all goes well, and I might have a place where I can couch surf for a month while I wait. But I have a bunch of shit coming up that I need to pay for, my cat needs to get her shots, my roommates are trying to scam me out of even More Money as I'm trying to escape, and I can't stay at a nearby shelter for june and just keep paying rent here because I couldn't bring my ESA, Frankie. I need to buy litter, a mini fridge for my new place, a deep freezer, food, supplies, boxes, and hopefully have some money set aside for things like backup money, transportation, ordering out if I need to, etc etc. I am also physically and mentally disabled, and the new place is far from bus routes so I need money to get back and forth (I really hurt myself the other day walking there even with my walker), and I may be required next month even if I DO couch surf at my old roommates to pay rent both there AND here + utilities. (About 850 to 950$ CAD.) I'm only on disability and can't afford much. Any little bit helps. If you can't donate that's perfectly fine! Please just consider reblogging ❤️🫶

I also do commissions if you want something in return! I do both written coms and art coms, and I'll write or draw pretty much anything you like, including n s f t, gore/horror, etc etc. I won't do anything illegal or paranoia inducing for my own safety, but you can pretty much rq anything. Just feel free to donate and then message me and we'll work out what I can do for that cost!

Thank you so much in advance. I know everyone is going through it right now but this will really help me and my babygirl (Frankie) a lot. Cheers!

P*ypal: p*ypal.me/sunnyshined

(Note: if youre able, because of conversion rates sending your d*nation in usd works out to be a lot more for me, so please consider it as a possibility if you can!)

[teojira]

[Caesar and Proximus' day to day life] [headcanons]

Summary: You're a human companion to the two apes, this is little things to expect as you live with them and in addition, the rest of the apes.

Word count: 900+

Warnings: None that I can think of! This is mostly platonic, some romance in Caesars if you squint.

Pronouns: Not specified.

A/N: first Planet of the apes request!! I'm so excited, shoutout to the other writers on ao3 I've looked up to for years. I hope this is okay anon! I couldn't reference back to your ask since I lost it and I hope this is the general idea you were hoping for 💀🙏

[Caesar]

For the sake of this, Caesar did NOT die at the end of war, and you're immune to the disease! (Nova is also fine here bc fuck you that's my daughter)

Truth be told it was very very very fortunate for you that you appealed to his good side after all this time, He's tired.

Tired of being hurt, tired of losing family, but he has no choice but to push on, when you offered at first to help him with any injuries or issues that arise in the colony, it's a firm no.

Despite everything he's been through, Caesar does love humans, he think a part of him always will, so just keep trying and you will crack his shell.

Once you two finally have something akin to friendship, is when he finally learns that he can rely on you.

It isn't uncommon to see you holding Cornelius and walking to and from different parts of the colony, Caesar trying in vain to tell you to let the boy down, saying you'll start to spoil him (it's too late, Cornelius will start to go to you for when his dad tells him no.)

Caesar doesn't really think he'd ever find another mate, but without his notice, you start to fill in that role.

Spending the most time with him, helping him make decisions, taking care of Cornelius, helping the other apes learn and sign, you take on the role fairly well.

It isn't uncommon for you to tend to his wounds, he prefers to go to you versus the others, he acts akin to a child when in your care though, hissing dramatically when you rub a salve on his forearm. It results in you slapping his shoulder and it makes him laugh.

Speaking of laughing, he never thought having you around would lighten the weight of the world he constantly holds over his shoulders, you make him feel young again. Before all of this.

He grows fonder of you when he sees some aspects of Caroline in you, noting just how loving and caring you are not only to him, but to everyone, Maurice, Rocket, even Bad ape with how much of an odd ball he is.

Caesar may be the leader (and old, you remind him. He ignores you.) but it doesn't mean he can stay at the colony all day, he goes out to hunt with the others, and when he does, he'll come to you and do a palms up, waiting for your permission.

He doesn't need it, but it makes you feel better when you see him off.

Maybe this is me projecting but he is SO possessive of you, he's lost so much, he lost Buck, Luca, Blue eyes, Cornelia, Koba, Will, his grandfather.

It puts him on the defense, never wanting you to go anywhere without at least one ape to protect you. It'll lead to arguments you Will not win.

Sorry if you just want to go to the river to wash up, either he's coming with you or Rocket is. Too Bad so sad.

Other apes come to you to ask you to ask Caesar if they can do something they Know he would never approve of, it's because they know out of everyone here, with the exception of a handful of apes, you're his soft spot.

Many apes were concerned with you joining them, but you've earned your spot among them, you are loved and trusted.

Koba would be rolling in his grave, seeing you work alongside Caesar, being a genuinely good person and a loving companion.

[Proximus]

It's canon that Proximus has a fondness for humans, but it's so severely different than Caesars, no matter how much he claims to be like the former.

You're more so of a toy to him, similar to Trevathan, but while he reads the Bonobo literature and teaches him things, you're like a pet. You keep him entertained.

This isn't to say he treats you cruelly though, all things considered, you're taken care of fairly well with a lot of luxuries the other apes under his rule are not privy to.

You wear a collar, which is demeaning, but it is better than having a chain connected to it, so everyone knows you're his.

Poor Sylva being forced to be your guard when you ask if you can go walking alone the beach, he doesn't want to do it but he WILL (he becomes fond of you begrudgingly, partially out of respect for Proximus but you're too nice for your own good, asking him how his day is going and whatnot. He hates you.)

Proximus calls you pet, btw. He knows your name but will only use it when it's the two of you or for special occasions.

Brings you out into the colony to show you all the progress being made, he's looking for his ego to be inflated, go ahead and do it so you two can head back inside and get out of the heat.

He likes to show you off while he does, telling his subjects that you're special, like Nova was to Caesar. He's delusional and Caesar would be fucking pissed to be compared.

He doesn't need you to do much honestly, you're meant to sit there and look pretty and make him feel important. Maybe help him out with grooming and taking care of his belongings. He trusts you to mend and keep his crown and his attire in good condition.

Likes to play with your hair, the texture is different than apes, and he finds it soothing to run his fingers through it or just pet your head. Once again, it is very demeaning, but it could be worse.

Like Caesar, he is possessive and will try and limit your contact with the others in fear you'll like them more. Your little trio consists of you, himself, and Sylva. He lets you interact with Trevathan, but it's not an everyday thing.

He does care for you more than he'd ever admit, but it doesn't mean he'll particularly change for your sake, at least not intentionally. He's kinda insane and kinda a piece of shit, and you're aware of this.

Makes you sit next to him when he hosts dinners, making sure to pat your head and coo at you (When Noa first sees you at the table getting treated like how he'd treat an eagle, he gives you one of his signature side eyes bc lmao what the fuck is going on)

When it comes down to the ending of the movie when he dies, you're at a loss, Mae frankly thinks you're too far gone, and Noa is not willing to take a chance to offer you a home.

All you have really left to do is to go back to the colony and what's left of it, back to the remaining apes and humans still left unattended. Telling them they're free to go.

At some point among the years of being the closest to Proximus, you do care for him, and it's hard to think he's gone, he offered you a sense of security and belonging, but it's gone now.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

[dadbodbuck]

some sentences saturday

from my untitled cat dad eddie fic!

“Hey, kiddo,” Eddie says as Chris pulls himself into the truck.

Chris eyes him warily. “What did you do?”

“Am I really that obvious?” Eddie laughs, pulling out of the school pickup line.

“You look like a dog with something in its mouth,” Chris observes.

Eddie chews on the inside of his cheek to buy himself time. “Yeah. I—uh—may have made an impulse purchase. Frank told me to volunteer at an animal shelter, so I went, and there was this cat, and—”

“Dad,” Chris gasps, “Did we get a cat?”

“Sort of,” Eddie winces, “She might not… she might not be friendly like your friends’ cats. People really hurt her, before.”

Chris frowns. “Oh.”

“She’s really scared,” Eddie explains, “She thinks someone like you or me or Buck will hurt her.”

“I wouldn’t hurt her!” Chris defends, “Neither would you or Buck.”

“She doesn’t know that,” Eddie says softly, “She’s a cat, so the only way to help her understand that is to show her. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “Is that why you got hurt?”

Eddie glances down at his bandaged hand. “Yeah. She bit me.”

“What did you do?” Chris says, with a protective bite that, honestly, makes Eddie a little proud.

“She’s been declawed,” Eddie says, “She can’t scratch people to let them know when to stop any more, so she bites more often. I had to give her some food, and got too close to her personal space. Hopefully with more work I can get closer to her or feed her from a bowl, but she’s been staying in her carrier.”

“Okay,” Chris accepts, “Can I see her?”

“I think that would be a good idea,” Eddie says, “She’s in my room—we’ll do your homework in there, and then we can work on slow blinking. I’m talking to a behaviorist from the shelter, and she says that’s how cats say I feel safe.”

Chris, with a look of raw determination (the only good thing Eddie ever gave him), nods. They make it home in one piece, and soon Chris is speeding in through the front door and towards Eddie’s room.

“Mijo, wait!” Eddie winces. Chris does actually stop (thank God), pausing with his hand on Eddie’s doorknob and a plaintive look back.

“Let me lead this, okay?” Eddie says, and he always hates taking agency away from his son, but this is… this is something he can’t afford to mess up. He doesn’t like the churning feeling in his gut when he thinks about what’ll happen if Magnolia bites Chris.

With a downcast look, Chris nods.

“Hey, I’m not saying I don’t think you’ll respect her space, or that I think you’ll do anything wrong,” Eddie assures him, “I just want to make sure she sees a familiar face first, okay?”

“Okay,” Chris says, relaxing. Eddie opens the door and steps in.

When they get in, she’s still in her crate. Eddie bites back a sigh of disappointment, one that quickly becomes unnecessary when he realizes she’s eaten her food.

“Alright, bud, let’s get cracking,” Eddie says, sitting cross-legged on his own bed. Chris joins him, and it’s almost like they’re having a sleepover, whispering because they’re up too late, and not because there’s a really freaked out cat six feet away.

[lovelyllamasblog]

More HSR X TWST Yuus!

I am still on the idea of HSR characters at NRC thanks to @enatopiaa, so I made more with picrew!

First, Misha!Yuu, from @lazy0bear

The little bellhop from the Reverie Hotel. He wears shorts with his uniform. He feels quite at home in Ramshackle and manages to clean it up pretty well.

He's clumsy AF! He can trip over nothing and everything all at once.

He's really good at cleaning (because he was a bellhop).

He also has a hard time saying no to people so he gets taken advantage of a lot by the other students, especially the bigger ones, and Azul and the Tweels.

Luckily, he has his friends who are trying to teach him how to say no.

Leona and Malleus both see him as a little squirrel or mouse.

Vil gave him the hair clips to keep his hair out of his face.

Next, for @sunrisei Natasha!Yuu

The new school nurse. She changes up her look in order fit in more and look more professional.

Half of the students and staff have a crush on her. Students will skip class or clubs to see her, even faking injuries to get close to her. She sees right through them and sends them off with a pat on the head.

Vargas repeatedly flirts with her while she works. She doesn't know what to think about that.

During Book 2, she nearly loses her mind over all the injuries. She nearly shots Leona's head off with her gun during the Overblot fight. After that, no one messes with her.

She does care for the students and is fastened by their Unique Magics. She studies them and asks the students questions about them when they visit.

@sunlightocean, you read my mind about Sparkle!Yuu

This girl, is a menace to NRC. Everyone is fooled by her innocent appearance at first, but quickly learns real fast not to mess with someone who plans Russian Roulette.

She still wears her hair ribbons and red sandals from her base outfit.

Some boys try to flirt with her and get hurt. Some make of her for her childish nature and get hurt.

She may or may not be the reason for some of the boys OB.

She likes to disguise herself as other students to fool or trick them. This leads to headaches (and heartaches) everywhere.

Mind games, all day everyday.

And finally, Asta!Yuu

Rich girl with a heart of gold and brains to match. Despite her rich upbringing, she doesn't like to flaunt her wealth and is tired of the rich lifestyle.

She can relate to Kalim the most because they both grew up privileged. She helps him understand that Jamil has his own problems and worries outside of his own. And she teaches him to not spend so much money.

Her intelligence makes her one of NRC's most promising students. She starts/joins the Astrology Club.

She building her own telescope to see the stars better. The Shroud brothers are helping her and they get along well.

And finally, for me, Boothill!Yuu!

Menace to NRC Part 2 Electric Boogaloo! He's not as much as a menace as Sparkle though.

Space Cyborg Cowboy? Your are the Shrouds new best friend! They are also the only ones who can help Boothill keep up his maintenance.

Ortho is begging his brother to make him a gear like Mr. Boothill's. Please big brother? 🥺

Everyone is surprised that Boothill doesn't swear. There's a bit of a contest between NRC students to see who can get him to swear.

He and Rook have shooting matches from time to time. Guns vs Bows.

He's also part of the Equestrian Club, and he's surprisingly really good at it.

why yes i am pushing my robinxboothillxargenti agenda, why do you ask? these three are a trio do not separate