#life just feels like one big test that I keep failing over and over again

[eideticmemory]

BABY DADDY | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

A one night stand leads to much, much more than either of you bargained for.

Word Count: 8.3k

Warning/Includes: BabyDaddy!Matthew, duh!!! Smut Lite™️.

So, the thing about babies is that they don’t really give a fuck about context. They truly couldn’t care less about what you’re doing, what’s happening in your life, your goals, your dreams, your ambitions. It’s all irrelevant. They will show up anyway. And what the little clump of cells in your uterus has failed to realize is that you do not know their father. At all.

Seriously.

You know him biblically. Obviously. You’ve shared drinks and a bed. You’ve seen him naked. He’s seen you naked. You’ve spent, maybe, an hour and a half together total. And you spent the majority of that time making the conscious decision to leave together, undress and fuck. You’re pretty sure the last thing you said to him was, “Safe travels.” As in, I don’t want to see you again. As in, If all goes well, I should never have to see you again.

You used a condom. You’re not dumb, you used a condom. So when weeks passed by and your period was late, you didn’t think anything of it. It happens. Sometimes periods are just late.

But it never came.

You bought the pregnancy test just to be safe. In fact, you were so sure that you were playing it safe that you didn’t take it for another three days. Pushing it back and back, hoping your period would come.

It didn’t.

So you squatted over the toilet and got a good amount of pee on the thing and waited two minutes just for it to stare you directly in the eye and say: FUCK YOU, DUMB BITCH. YOU’RE PREGNANT.

Okay, it just said pregnant. But that’s what went through your head. Your knees buckled and you grabbed your stomach, almost like you could feel the thing just hanging out in there. You doubled over, thinking you were going to puke, but you didn’t. You eye the test again and then, out of pure nerves, you puke.

You buy two more tests. They call you a dumb bitch again, just a little louder. You want a bottle of wine but you don’t have one because you’re pregnant. You want a lighter and a goddamn cigarette but you don’t have one because you don’t even smoke and you’re pregnant.

You sit down for lunch with your friend and it’s the first time you say these words out loud.

She yells, “You’re what?”

Pregnant!

You give her this look that says please don’t make me say it again and she doesn’t. She heard you very well the first time.

“W-wh-what…” she trembles. Shaking, like she’s the one knocked up. “What? H-how…what? who’s the daddy?”

You sigh, cut your eyes up at her, and her jaw drops, stuttering, “O-oh…no…no…[y/n]…no.”

“It’s gotta be him. He’s the last guy I had sex with. I had gotten my period before then. Now, no period, three positive pregnancy tests.”

“Three?” she shouts. “Oh, so you’re pregnant pregnant?”

“Yeah, I took three just to be sure and they all told me to go kill myself. So.”

“Oh my god…” she shudders. “Oh my god? Oh my…” and she chugs her glass of wine in one big gulp. It looks good.

“What are you going to do?” she asks you.

You shrug, your mind made up, “I’m keeping it.”

“What?”

“Okay, you need to quiet down now before we get kicked out of here.”

“What do you mean keeping it? As in, giving birth? As in, raising a child?”

“Yeah, exactly that.”

“O…kay…and the baby daddy?”

You shrug, “What about him?”

“I-“ she slams her hands down. “[y/n].”

“What?”

“You’re not gonna tell him?”

“Why would I? I have a house and a job and insurance and a 401K, I can take care of my kid.”

“Well, yeah…but it’s…his kid, too? Why-why are you keeping it if you’re not gonna tell him?”

“Because I want a baby. I don’t know. I-I thought about…getting it sucked out of there, but I don’t wanna. I want a baby. I want a kid. And yeah, this…isn’t the conventional way of doing that, but I never much saw myself with a husband anyway.”

“So…what’s the plan? Matthew’s just walking down the street one day and a little carbon copy of him comes out of the shadows saying ooh, aah, look at me! I’m the love child you unintentionally abandoned 10 years ago! That’s fucked.”

“What if he doesn’t care? What if he wants to abandon the kid? What if we’re on the same page?”

“Then at least give him the option.”

“Ugh.”

“[y/n], just give him the option. What? You can gargle his cock in your mouth but you can’t have a conversation? You need to tell him.”

“Okay…” you roll your eyes.

“And whatever the outcome, he stills owes you money. He stills owes some type of financial support, whether you want it or not.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Whatever. Look, I work with him when he’s in town, okay? I see him, I have to interact with him, I can’t hold on to this and I can’t be the one to tell him. [y/n]…please…”

“Okay!”

“Okay?”

You huff, “Okay. Fine.”

“Okay. You have his number?”

“No.”

“Classy,” she quips as she scrolls through her phone and you roll your eyes, “Okay, I’m airdropping it to you now.”

His contact comes through to your phone and you only stare at it long enough to accept and then you plant the device face down on the table. You suck back an anxious gulp of water and fidget with your hands, “This is your fault, you know?”

“What? How?”

“You’re the one that introduced us. At that launch party or whatever. What was that even about?”

“It was the launch party for a new production company and fuck you, you whore. I didn’t force you to go and get yourself knocked up. That was all you, Matthew and those free shots.”

“Oh, please, you practically threw us together.”

“Yeah, well, sue me, I thought you guys would hit it off,” she shrugs. “Not quite this much, but…”

The two of you sit in silence, looking around the restaurant, picking at your food.

“So,” she pips.

Your eyes flicker up at her.

“How was it?” she smirks. “Worth a baby?”

You let a long sigh, shaking your head with a very violent roll of your eyes, “Honestly…yeah…”

So far, pregnancy doesn’t suck. You’re still early, still not showing. There’s been no nausea or bloating. The insomnia, however, is getting ridiculous. You’re normally the type of girl to crash in bed as soon as possible, knocked out the moment your head hits the pillow. It is now midnight and your eyes are wide open, unable to relax. You check everything possible off of your to-do list, even scheduling your first obstetrician appointment. The only thing you haven’t done is call Matthew, having had his number sitting in your phone for close to a week now. To make it worse, all you want is a cinnamon roll. But not just any cinnamon roll. One from the late night bakery down the street. This is especially dangerous because you know very well that they are still open and somewhere out there is a cinnamon roll with your name on it. It would be nuts to leave the warmth of your bed right now, walk a mile in the dead of night, just for a cinnamon roll.

But you’re going to.

You bundle up and head out into the summer night, looking completely insane. Hoodie, sweats, tattered sneakers built for walking down the New York City sidewalks. It’s not far and you walk fast, faster than normal tonight because the craving is just that strong. You make it in all of ten minutes and within five more, you have the box cracked open and are tearing a piece off with your bare hands.

You look up for merely a second and your eyes catch him immediately. Now, you’re tired. Your blood sugar’s just shot up but you’re pretty sure it’s him. Posing for a picture with a fan. Tall. Beautiful. Smiling. His eyes land on you and he excuses himself, throws up a wave. You jump, looking around, contemplating running. But, yeah. That wouldn’t be suspicious at all. By the time you stop fidgeting, he’s standing over you and you’re trapped.

“Hi!” he greets you. “Hi, [y/n], how are you?”

You wipe frosting from your mouth and chuckle, more caught off guard by his remembering your name than anything. You cough, “Hi. Matthew, hi. I’m good. I’m doing good. How are you?”

“Good! Just heading home.”

“Oh! Oh, you have a place in New York?”

“Yeah, near the park, just a few blocks over. You live around here?”

“Uh…” you did not know this so you’re forcing your brain to catch up. “Uh, yeah, yeah. About a block over, just… couldn’t sleep. Wanted a cinnamon roll.”

“Looks good,” he giggles. “You look good.”

“Oh, you’re full of shit,” you smile.

“No! No, I mean it. You look great. I love the cinnamon roll run outfit. Honestly.”

You blush, you don’t mean to, but you blush. “Well, thank you. You look good, too.” He does. You can tell he’s just leaving somewhere because he’s dressed up and you suddenly remember very vividly how you ended up pregnant.

“Aw, thank you. I appreciate that…” his eyes scan over you. “Where did you say you live? Can I walk you home? It’s late.”

You want to shout No! Thank you! and run. It wouldn’t be hard to do. Why not? Still, you say, “Yes. Yeah, I’d like that.”

And so the two of you stroll down the empty sidewalks together, he does most of the talking. You can hear it in his voice that he’s flirting. You’ve heard it before. It has been successful, with you, before. Yet, you’re too busy this time around trying not to puke. He walks you to your door and you notice your cinnamon roll has gone cold in your hand.

“This is me,” you tell him. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he smiles. “We should get together again, if you’re up for it.”

You nod, “Mhm. Yeah. That sounds nice. Um, I’ll give you my number.” He instantly pulls his phone from his pocket and hands it over. He’s serious. You type your name and number in and hand it back, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Perfect,” his fingers linger on yours as he takes his phone back. “I’ll call you. Hey, could I use your bathroom? I pee fast so I won’t inconvenience you too long.”

No!

You snicker, “Yeah…” you start to unlock the door. “Of course. Sorry in advance, it’s a little messy.”

“Oh, a little mess doesn’t scare me,” he laughs.

You let him in and point out the bathroom and as soon as he disappears, closes the door behind him, you release the breath that’s been trapped in your chest and plop down on the couch. “Fuck,” you mutter to yourself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The toilet flushes and then there’s a loud bang from the bathroom and you snap back to reality. “Matthew?” you call. “You alright in there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he calls in response. “Just kicked over your trash can. Sorry!”

“That’s okay!” you reply. You relax.

It is definitely not okay.

You hop up and sprint to the bathroom door. You don’t even knock, you just burst into the bathroom where Matthew is picking up the spilled trash. Your eyes instantly land on the pregnancy tests and you can’t do anything but stand in wait.

When he notices them, he laughs. Not a cackle, but a soft giggle, almost silly, “You pregnant or something?” he asks. It’s a joke. He’s making a joke.

He looks at your face. It’s not a joke.

He stops laughing. He stops smiling. You’ve never seen someone’s entire being go so pale.

“Oh, you’re…” he stutters. “You’re…” he breathes. “Is it mine?”

You can hardly look him in the eye but you do and you nod.

“How long have you known?”

You gulp, “Like…a week. I haven’t been to the doctor or anything.”

“Are you…” you can see his chest heaving. “Are you serious?”

You nod, “Yes.”

He looks around the bathroom, wobbling on his heels and you worry he’s going to pass out. Instead, he slams the toilet seat down and sits on it, falls on it. “What…what are you going to do?”

“I’m…” you clear your throat. “Keeping it.”

“Oh.” he says. “You don’t...you’re not…”

“No. I don’t want that.”

And this is where his words became jumbled. Mumbled. Barely incoherent. He, himself, cannot even figure out what he’s trying to say.

“Look,” you interrupt him. “You don’t have to be involved, okay? You don’t even need to be on the birth certificate. I can handle this. I will handle this. If you wanna drop me a couple hundreds bucks every month and call it a day, that’s fine. If you don’t? Also fine. But I need to know because we’re…not…confusing this kid, okay? So, you need to be all in or all out.”

“Are you...” he cuts his eyes up at you and then promptly rises to his feet. “I can’t do this right now.”

You’re so dumbfounded as he rushes past you that your brain doesn’t even fully process it until he’s almost out the door. “Where are you going?”

“I have to clear my head. I-I have to get out of here.”

“Uh, okay...” he closes the door in your face. “Bye…”

And in the wake of all this exciting, suddenly surrounded by silence and cut tension, you remember your cinnamon roll. You want it after all.

When your friend asks if you’ve told Matthew, you say, “Yes.”

“Oh, shit. You called him?”

“No.” And you have to explain. You have to explain every awkward, uncomfortable, terrible second.

“And I haven’t heard from him since,” you shrug.

“Really?”

You nod.

She sighs, “Wow…fuck him.”

“Fuck him.”

And you meant that. You’re content with that. You feel like you can move on. Prepare, nest, move forward. Then he calls you. Out of nowhere. His name pops up on your phone and silences the music that had been playing while you took a bath. You stare at the screen for a long time, wondering if it’s best to protect your peace. It is. But still, you answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, [y/n]?” he clears his throat. “It’s Matthew.”

“Matthew,” you sigh. “Hi.”

“Hey, um, when is your first doctor’s appointment? Has that passed already?”

“Um…” you furrow your eyebrows, genuinely confused. “No. It’s on the twenty-sixth. At Aster on the upper west side. Eleven o’clock.”

Silence.

Then, he says, “Okay…okay, I’ll be there.”

You shrug, “Okay.”

“Okay.”

You arrive at 10:45. You do not expect him to show up, like truly expect him to show up. So when he comes walking into the waiting room, your heart genuinely stops. You cross and uncross your legs, shuffling in your seat.

“Hi,” you whisper, with very minimal eye contact.

“Hi.”

The nurse calls your name and Matthew follows you into the examination room, taking a seat beside you. The technician asks you a series of questions about your last period, your symptoms, your health history and Matthew hears none of it.

“And are you dad?” she asks him.

He feels like he’s going to throw up. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

You roll your eyes and luckily, this kind woman cuts the tension pretty quickly. She slathers this cold gel on your belly and presses the wand to your skin and the heartbeat picks up immediately.

“Oh, wow, strong heartbeat already!” she grins at you. But you can’t take your eyes off the monitor. Matthew either. “You’re right around ten weeks so there’s the little head and you can see their arms and legs starting to form here.”

You can. You can really see it. There’s a baby in there. Barely. But a baby! You look at Matthew and his look of pure terror mirrors yours. It’s kind of comforting.

The nurse wipes you off and says, “So your estimated due date is March 10th, but again, that’s just an estimate so take it with a grain of salt because babies tend to follow their own schedule. You’re looking at anywhere from two to three days before or after.”

“Holy shit,” Matthew swears. “That’s the day after my birthday.”

“Is it really?” you tilt your head and at this, the nurse is dumbfounded. At this, Matthew is completely silenced.

You ask for two separate copies of the ultrasound and the technician has gotten over the shock. She’s not going to question it anymore, not going to give it any thought. Let you two sort it out.

As you stand outside afterwards, twiddling your thumbs, unsure of what to say or what to do, he asks, “Are you hungry? Can I take you to lunch?”

You cross your arms, wanting to say no. Wanting to lie. Instead you sigh, “Yes,” you nod. “Yes, please. I’m fucking starving.”

So he takes you to a cafe down the street where you order possibly the biggest burger even seen and fries and a cup of veggies and a piece of cake. It’s awkward, silent, and he just watches you eat. Almost like he can’t wrapped his head around it. You come up for air and catch his gaze.

“Hey,” you swallow. “Don’t look at me crazy. You’ve never had something in your body competing for resources.”

He chuckles, “No judgement. Eat what you want.”

“That was my plan.”

He picks at his food for a few moments and then sighs, “So…how…how are we gonna do this?”

You would ask for more context but you don’t need it. You know exactly what he means. You shrug, “I don’t know…” you shrug again. “I don’t know, just…do the best we can, I guess?”

He nods, “Yeah. Yeah, that always seems to work for everyone else.”

September | 14 Weeks

The deal is that Matthew will come in every four weeks for your appointments. This is what he agrees to, but you’re not convinced it will happen. But your next appointment rolls around and you’re shocked to walk in and find he’s beat you there. This time, he sees you and he smiles. His eyes scan over your figure as you take a seat, he goes, “Oh, you’re…you’re kinda starting to…”

You glance down at your tiny baby bump and you have this weird urge all the time to touch it so you do. “Oh. Yeah. I finally had to start telling people at work. They made me a registry.”

“Oh, that’s nice. What…what do you need me to get? What does a baby need?”

“God, dude, too much shit, I swear. Plus, I don’t even know what I want to dress her in. There’s like a million different brands and they all look the same or are made from spider silk or something stupid. I don’t know.”

He tilts his head at you, “Her? You think it’s a girl?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. I don’t think we can find out just yet anyway but, maybe?”

This little grin appears on his face and he almost reaches in to your bump, but he doesn’t. He shuffles in his seat, clears his throat, “A girl would be nice.”

You smile, “I think so, too.”

You both get your updated ultrasounds to go and the technician is greatful to not feel so suffocated this time. The energy around the two of you has shifted. Not much. You’re still strangers and it shows. But it’s different. You smile, you joke around, Matthew speaks up, asks questions.

It’s different.

At the end of the appointment, he asks you, “Hey, are you busy tonight?”

“Oh…” you’re caught off guard. “No. Why?”

“I was wondering if you might want to come over? For dinner maybe?”

“Oh.”

“Nothing…weird. I just…want you to know where I live and…I don’t know, I thought we could just talk.”

“Um. Okay. Okay. Send me your address.”

“Okay. I will.”

And so because you reluctantly agreed, you show up at his doorstep at six o’clock sharp. You’re not dressed up or anything, but it’s starting to get cold and you just threw on this big puffy jacket.

He opens the door and greets you with a bright smile, saying, “Hey, you. Come in.”

“Thanks,” you meekly walk in and instantly look around his place and oh, it’s fucking gorgeous. Comforting. Because you can’t have a baby with someone who lacks interior design skills.

“Are you still craving chinese? I got us a fuck ton.”

“Oh, my god,” you sigh in relief, smelling the food, instantly plopping down at the kitchen table. “Oh, my god, yes, thank you.”

“Of course,” he smiles.

You look around and notice the ultrasounds on his fridge, staring at them as he sets up a plate for you.

He takes a seat beside you and takes a bite of his food, then asking, “So, where are you from?”

It catches you off guard so you laugh, “What?”

“Where are you from? What’s your family like? Where’d you go to school?”

“Um, okay…what…you interrogating me?”

He laughs, “No. No, sorry. I just…uh, I wanna get to know you better, that’s all. You can ask me anything you wanna know, too.”

“Hm,” you nod. “Okay.” And you spill your guts.

You wrap your life up in a nutshell and it becomes this rapid game of back and forth about whose parents did this and how many siblings do you have and who was your first crush. Who’s your best friend. Who’s the last person you dated. Tell me about all the people you’ve dated!

Your baby daddy is kind of a slut, but, honestly, who are you to judge?

He’s funny. As far as you can tell, he’s honest. He doesn’t have or want to hide anything from you. What’s the point?

“So, um,” he says. “Why don’t I make you a drink and give you a little tour? Oh, wait, you…”

“Can’t drink,” you nod. “Yeah. Thanks for reminding me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs. “I have sparkling cider.”

“Bleh.”

“Sparkling water?”

“Bleh.”

“I…orange juice?” he laughs but you’re dead serious.

“That sounds so fucking good right now.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles. “Okay, you got it.”

And so, with your cup of orange juice, you follow him around his home. You see his bedroom, his office, and in the corner of the house, an empty room where he proclaims, “This will be the little guy’s room. I’m not sure what I’m gonna do with it yet, but definitely something.”

It’s beautiful. Lots of natural light but he says he’s already started looking at blackout curtains. “And then in my room,” he adds as you walk by. “I’ll have one of those little beside bassinet things, y’know? Just until he gets a little bigger.”

You look up at him with this sober look. You stumble around until you find somewhere to put your glass down and he asks, “You alright?”

You turn back to him and almost immediately jump into his arms, mouth open, a whole growing human between the of you, but still you are close. But still, you are kissing.

“Woah…” he huffs. “W-what…what are you…”

“Sorry,” you breathe out. “It’s nothing personal. I’ve just got a lot of blood rushing to a lot of different places and w-what?” you stutter because he’s caressing your face. “Y’know, it’s not like you can get me pregnant. It’s more like a…a favor?”

His eyes scan over your face and he nods, scoops you up in his arms like it’s nothing. “Yeah, okay, that makes sense,” and he carries you into his bedroom.

October | 18 Weeks

The greeting this week is different. In the past few weeks, there’s been a lot more casual texting. A lot of Matthew asking: Hey, how are you feeling today? Do you need anything? Do you have groceries? You appreciate it.

He walks into the waiting room a few minutes after you and you actually stand to say hi.

“Hi, you!” he pips and he gives you a big hug. This time, he is not so shy and he takes a hold of your bump in both his hands, leaning down to say, “Hi, you! What are you doing in there? Woah!”

“Ah,” you groan. “Yeah, kicking the shit out of me. lately. Don’t get her riled up.”

But he pokes at your belly again and those legs come back swinging. He laughs, “Oh, my god, that’s so cool!”

“Yeah, not so much when it’s the middle of the night and it’s directly on your bladder.”

“Oof. Sorry, I should be stern,” he leans down. “Knock it off, kid.” And the kid kicks back.

“Oh! Jesus. Okay, that was…bad. Keep practicing.”

He cackles, “I will.”

In the exam room, the technician asks, “Do you wanna know the gender?” The smile on her face tells you that she already knows.

And as you shout an enthusiastic, “Yes!” Matthew is shaking his head, saying, “No.”

And then there’s silence.

“What…” you chuckle. “What do you mean no?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I kinda just wanna be surprised.”

“Hm…” you furrow your eyebrows. You turn to the technician, “Well, I wanna know, will you put it in an envelope for me?”

This envelope is hand delivered to you at the end of your appointment and you hold it tight in your hands all the way out the door. You tear into it as soon as you step outside and Matthew shouts, “Wait!”

“What?”

“I don’t wanna know! Open it when you’re alone.”

“Okay…” you shrug, putting the envelope in your purse.

The two of you stand there, silent, avoiding eye contact.

“Fine, open it,” he says.

“What?” you laugh. “I thought you didn’t wanna know?”

“I don’t! I don’t. But-but you should know. Open it.”

You roll your eyes at him and take the envelope out of your bag, breaking the seal, flipping it open and showing absolutely no emotion. You rise and fall from the tip of your toes, biting down on your lip.

“Oh, c’mon!” he groans. “What is it? What is it? What is it? Just tell me.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You positive?”

“[y/n]…” he whines.

You chuckle and turn the paper around to face him and his entire expression goes blank.

“A boy?” he whispers. Followed by, “Oh, my god, a boy!” Then, “A boy?” Finally, “A boy…”

You giggle and nod, “A boy.”

Halloween falls on a work day, after which you immediately come home to take a nap. You awake to find missed calls and texts from Matthew, the last of which reads: I’m coming over. You see this just before he rings your doorbell.

You answer and flinch, caught off guard by his costume. His makeup, the whole thing. “Oh…” you say. “You did say you were weird about Halloween.”

“Um, I don’t know if weird is the word I used but…here! For you,” he hands you a bag full of candy and you laugh, taking it from him.

“Thank you.”

“And…also, for you,” and he hands you a pumpkin.

“Oh! Thanks?”

“It’s the exact same weight as the baby. Weighed it myself.”

And your heart just kind of melts. “Aw…that’s so cute…” you hold the thing in your hands and look down at it. “Wow, what? No fucking way that’s in there.” you say in disbelief, holding the pumpkin level with your belly.

The two of you burst into laughter and Matthew sighs, happily exclaming, “Yeah, that’s him.”

November | 22 Weeks

Before your next appointment, Matthew calls you to ask if you’ll spend Thanksgiving with him in Vegas.

“Y’know, I told my family and-and they were…y’know shocked. But, they wanna meet you. I’m sure you already have plans but if you don’t…I’d really love it if you came with me.”

You sit in silence for a second. “I…I don’t have plans. I’ll go.”

“Really?”

“Oh, did you…want me to say no?”

“No,” he laughs. “No. I just thought you would. Um, well, okay, cool! Cool. I’ll book the flight.”

“Okay. Cool.”

Matthew meets you at your place the day before Thanksgiving, greeting you with a hug and a kiss on your belly. “Hey, you ready?”

“Yeah…” you grumble. “I’m all packed, just tired.”

“Want me to carry you?”

“Ha…ha…no, thanks.”

“I’m so dead serious. I’ve been lifting weights, gotta train to carry a baby around.”

“I’m telling you, this fucker is heavy.”

He laughs, “Yeah, he looks it already. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Um…” you sigh. “Can you just carry my bags?”

“[y/n].” He looks you in the eye. “I was going to do that anyway.”

You get sick on the plane and the flight attendant gives you ice to chew and a cold rag for your forehead. Matthew is constantly rubbing your leg and fanning you with the safety booklet.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry. What can I do?” he asks.

“Will you be the pregnant one for a little bit?”

“Yes, if that’s what you need.”

His face is serious and you can’t help but laugh, “Fuck you.”

As you drive through the desert, you have to keep your eyes closed to feel peace. You only open them when the car slows down and you arrive at the house.

“Oh, by the way,” Matthew says as he shuts the car off. “My family thinks we’re together. Like dating.”

Your eyes goes wide and you shoot up in your seat, “What? What?” you yell.

“Look, look, I’m sorry! I didn’t know what else to say!”

“Uh, how about I got a little too drunk and horny on a Friday night and put a baby in someone? You don’t lie! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I…ugh! I’m sorry. I know, I know. I will tell them the truth, but not right now. [y/n], please.”

“No.”

“[y/n]…”

“No. Fuck you! How could you wait until we get here to tell me that bullshit? You’re insane!”

“Okay. Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry, let’s just, please go inside and I will fix it.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t wanna go inside now. You pissed me off.”

“Oh, my…” he huffs. “[y/n], please.”

“No!” you cross your arms. “I’m staying in the car.”

Just then, his mom comes rushing out the house, waving to you both from the front door and you have to put on a smile very quickly.

“I will tell them,” he whispers.

“Oh, you fucking better,” you sneer, still smiling. “Or I will.”

You play along as you’re introduced to everyone. You tell them about yourself. You show them the most recent ultrasound, you pig out on all the food just laying around and somehow, along the way, you forget why you were mad.

Until you retire to bed and they have you and Matthew set up in one room. Then, you are pissed all, over, again.

You rush into the shower to avoid him and when you come back out, he’s laying in the bed.

“Hi,” he smiles nervously.

“Fuck you.”

“Okay.”

“Did you tell them?”

“No. I’m sorry. I will.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Matthew.”

“[y/n]-“

“Matthew!”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll tell them now.”

“Yeah.”

Still, he lays there. “I…I pulled out your maternity pillow. All ready for you.”

“Get out the damn bed,” you grumble and he’s up before you lay down. And worse, he just stands there.

You roll over from your side, looking at him. He’s looking at you and his face pisses you off so you shout, “Matthew!”

“Okay!” and he leaves the room.

He comes back in after you’ve fallen asleep but still, half awake, you ask, “Did you tell them?” and you don’t even question it when he lays beside you, cradles you in his arms.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good.”

And you fall asleep just like that.

Thanksgiving goes well, despite the recent news. You practically clear the table yourself because you’re eating for two and one of you is much greedier than the other. You meet Matthew’s dad, who spends the entire evening lulling you into security just to later pull the two of you into a separate room.

Here, the conversation gets legal. And while you were not expecting it, you’re grateful. You hadn’t thought of any of this. Custody, exchange schedules, schools, primary addresses, out-of-state trips. All of it.

His dad finally asks, “And what last name will the baby be taking?”

You say, “[y/l/n],” as Matthew says, “Oh, Gubler, for sure.” And the two of you just slowly turn to look at each other.

“Oh…” he dad says. “You two should probably discuss.”

That discussion lasts well into the night. Through the drive to the airport. Through the flight.

By the time you land, you’ve compromised. You’ll hyphenate.

December | 26 Weeks

Your next appointment is just over a week before Christmas. Matthew agrees then to spend Christmas Eve with you. Your family comes into New York just to keep you from flying yourself. When they arrive, your home is cluttered with boxes and pieces of the crib and a dismantled bassinet and bottles and boxes of diapers and wipes. Your baby shower was a huge success. You and baby boy want for nothing. But you’re big, you’re stressed, you’re aching and you can’t stop crying.

“Baby, let us put the nursery together for you,” you mom suggests.

“No. No, we’ll do it. It’s fine. I want to do it.”

“Okay. Speaking of, is your baby daddy gonna be here any time soon?”

“Yeah, he’s on the way.”

And as if on queue, Matthew walks in and everyone exclaims, “Hey! Baby daddy!”

Your sibling walks up to him immediately and says, “Love Criminal Minds, dude,” and you put your face in your hands.

Matthew gets everything stuffed into the nursery just for now so there’s more space for everyone to move around. He helps your mom with dinner and he doesn’t mind when they poke and prode into his life.

“So, baby daddy, what part of New York are you in?”

“So, baby daddy, is this your first kid?”

“So, baby daddy, do you think you might propose to [y/n] someday?”

“Baby daddy, what’s your net worth?”

And this is not an exaggeration. By the end of the night, he responds to baby daddy like it’s his actual government name and he confesses to you that it makes him uncomfortable.

Standing on your balcony, he wraps a blanket around you and rubs your shoulders, “Y’know, I understand the terminology, definitely. But…damn.”

You cackle, “Well..you are my baby daddy. We’re having a baby together, but were not together, but we have sex sometimes. It fits. Hey, I’m your baby mama!”

“Aw, well…” he sighs. “Thats sweet.” And he grins at you as you burst into laughter.

Your family leaves to stay at a hotel and Matthew stays to make sure you’re okay. You’re pretty fucking exhausted to be honest. So he tucks you into bed and runs his hand over your hair, “You need anything?”

“No. Just sleep.”

“Okay,” he touches your belly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

When you wake up in the morning, your first thought is that you need to eat. You remember some sugar cookies that your mom had brought by last night and you decide to have them for breakfast. You walk to the kitchen and passing by the nursery, you almost don’t notice. Then, you stop in your tracks, tilt your head and walk backwards.

It’s done.

It’s done!

The crib is built, the dresser and changing table are assembled, the mobile’s up and running, the rocking chair is in the corner. Even the wall art you picked out is hanging up.

“Wh-what…” you stutter and then you march to the living room where Matthew is passed out on the couch. “Matthew!” you shout. Still, he doesn’t wake. So you rush over and shake him, going, “Matthew! Matthew!” and he jolts awake.

“What?” he takes hold of your hands. “What? Are you okay? Are you alright?”

“Yes. What…what the hell did you do?”

“What do you mean?” he rasps. “Oh…the nursery? Do you like it?”

“Do I…” you cut yourself off and run back to the nursery, where you wander around the room unable to focus your attention on just one thing.

Matthew follows behind you and watches you from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “Well?”

“It’s…” you gleam. “Exactly like my pinterest board.”

“Of course it’s exactly like your pinterest board, I’m not insane!” he laughs.

You feel this peace wash over you and you hug your baby bump as you breathe out a slow exhale. You turn to him with a smile and he thinks you’re running to give him a hug. So when you all but tackle him, take him a kiss, push him to the floor, tear off his clothes, it all happens so fast.

When it’s over, you have no bottoms on and your head is laying on his chest. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I should probably stop attacking you like that.”

He chuckles, “No. Don’t. I don’t mind.”

January | 30 Weeks

Your appointments are every two weeks now. This is the time you expected Matthew to miss at least one, but he never does. He’s always there. Even when he’s not with you, he’s always there.

When your insomnia is at its very worst, he facetimes you in the middle of the night.

“Hey,” he smiles at the screen. “I knew you’d be up.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Insomnia still kicking your ass?”

“Every night this past week.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry, honey,” he frowns. “But since you’re up, I thought we could talk baby names?”

“Oh,” you say. You had forgotten about that. “Oh…right…names.”

“I know, we kinda dropped the ball on that one,” he laughs. “Now, it’s kinda a Gubler tradition that all the boys have the middle name Gray. Y’know, alliteration and all.”

“Oh..that’s…” Boring, you think. “Unoriginal. Can we compromise?”

“Well, I’m already compromising with the hypenating so I don’t know.”

“Oh, good g-“ you roll your eyes. “Sir, you hyphenated like 7 months ago, let it go.” And he lets it go. You add, “I like the name Lincoln. Link.”

“Ooh, no. He used to bully me in school. What about Silas?”

“Yeah, cause he’s a vampire? Veto. I like Noah.”

“Cause he’s building an arc? Veto!”

“Ugh.”

“What about Simon? Y’know I voiced him in the movie.”

You roll your eyes, again. “Yes. We know. Veto.”

Silence falls over the call as you both rack your brains for another suggestion. And like a domino, it naturally falls into your mind, “Theodore?” you shrug.

Matthew smiles, “Teddy?”

“Aw!” you squeal. “Teddy Gray…” you say aloud and then a tear falls from your eye and then you’re full blown sobbing in front of the camera. “Teddy Gray, that’s it. That’s his name.”

And Matthew is freaked out because he’s never seen you cry before. Ever. Not at the doctor, not in the nursery, he’s never had the pleasure of meeting your hormones face to face quite like this. “Yeah…” he chokes out a sob. “That’s it,” he wipes his eyes. “Fuck, why am I crying?”

“Oh, why would you be, you fucking freak?” you shout and he thinks it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said.

Suddenly, your doorbell rings and it silences you, scares you. “What the fuck?” you whisper. “Is that you?”

“Nope. I had something delivered.”

“What? Right now?”

“Just a little cinnamon roll and a milkshake, but I can tell them to leave if you don’t want it?”

“Oh, my god,” you rush out of bed and immediately waddle to the door, “You’re amazing. I wanna have your baby.”

February | 34 Weeks

Your customized pillows and blankets have come in the mail. They all say Teddy and his baby book says it too. It is perfect. It’s your son. At your last appointment, he weighed about 7 pounds and you certainly feel every ounce weighing you down.

But for Teddy, it’s worth it.

For now, you’re still going to work and taking an afternoon nap for survival. Matthew jokes all the time that you can quit your job whenever you’d like. That he can take care of you both, just say the word. That was never the deal, but you appreciate it.

When you arrive home on Valentine’s Day, you’re just getting settled when your doorbell rings. You look through the peep hole and the delivery man is holding the largest vase of roses you’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” he greets you. “[y/n] [y/l/n]?”

“Yes,” you nod and take the roses in your arms. “Thank you.”

He hands you a tiny bag and you carry everything inside, setting them down on the table.

“One more thing,” he tells you and when you turn around, it is a teeny, tiny vase of snipped roses. The vase is personalized with the name Teddy.

“Aw,” you want to cry but you can’t do it in front of this random man. So only when he leaves, you let the tears fall and you set Teddy’s vase near in the window in his room. You leave your flowers on the living room table and take a small jewelry box out of the bag. Inside, are the most gorgeous pair of ruby pendant earrings and you audibly gasp.

The card accompanying it all reads: Sorry I can’t be with you and Teddy today, but I’m thinking about you both. I’m always thinking about you.

Happy Valentine’s Day, baby mama!!

M

March | 37 Weeks

“Any day now, [y/n],” your doctor beams, rolling the wand around on your belly. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you nod. “Excited. Scared. I didn’t give it much thought about how I was gonna get him out of there.”

Her and Matthew laugh, Matthew holding your hand like it’s No Big Deal.

“You’re gonna do great. You’re right on track for your due date, but it’s possible you’ll start feeling some contractions in the next week or two. If you notice them coming really close together or your water breaks, I want you to put that birthing plan in motion, okay?”

“Okay,” you and Matthew say in unison. It would’ve annoyed you before. Now you just smile at him because you think it’s cute.

Matthew escorts you back home and he’s hoping you’ll settle in and maybe rest. You don’t. You end up in the nursery, walking around like maniac. There is absolutely nothing to do. Nothing to move. Nothing to fix. Still, your brain tells you there must be something.

“Honey, honey,” he calls, taking you by the hand and guiding you to the couch. “Come lay down, please. Everything is all set.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he laughs. “You’re just nesting, I read about it online.”

“Oh, you and your baby google.”

“There really is so much out there!”

You roll your eyes, smiling as he covers you with a blanket. “You still going to Vegas this weekend? For your birthday?”

“Oh, no. No, I think I’m just gonna stay in New York.”

“What? Why? I thought your mom was planning a whole thing for you? You can’t miss it.”

“Well, I don’t wanna miss Teddy coming either. I don’t wanna leave you alone like that. The doctor said any day now.”

“Yeah, but, she also said it could be well over another week before I start contracting.”

He sighs, visibly anxious.

“Hey, look,” you pull him into your arms. “I appreciate you wanting to be here, I really do, but I want you to enjoy your birthday and I highly, highly doubt this kid is planning on escaping any time soon. Plus, my friend will be here if anything happens so, just, go, baby daddy, we’ll be fine.”

He sighs, “Fine. But you’ll call me if anything happens?”

“I will call you.”

“Immediately?”

“Immediately!”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

March 9 | 37 Weeks and 6 Days

The eve of Matthew’s birthday, you get roughly four hours of sleep. You rise with the sun and sit in Teddy’s room, folding his clothes, piling them in his dresser.

You friend wanders in, having just woken up herself and she sighs, “What the hell are you doing, crazy lady?”

“Nothing.”

“This nursery looks like it’s straight out of Architectural Digest. There’s nothing else to do, why don’t you go lay down?”

“Why is everyone always wanting me to lay down?”

“Because you’re carrying a human maybe? Duh?”

“I’m fine. I feel fine. I need to check on the bottles and make sure I have the right sized nipples because I’m not sure…”

“[y/n], you have all the nipples in the world. The ones, the twos, the threes, the ones on your tits. It’s fine!”

“I’m just checking!” And as you step towards the kitchen, you suddenly stop in your tracks, grab onto your crotch in shock.

“[y/n]?” you friend rushes to your side. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I…I, um, I think I just pissed myself?”

“Wh-what? Pissed yourself or did your water break?”

You look up at her in fear, “Oh my god.”

“I’ll get the hospital bag.”

“Oh my god.”

“Get some pants and shoes on, dude!”

“Oh my god,” you repeat. “I-I have to call Matthew.”

So you do. You do. Just in the knick of fucking time, your name pops up on his phone and he quickly grabs his luggage and sprints off the plane that was doomed to take off any second.

When he arrives at the hospital, he bursts into the room at full speed, thinking he’s already missed everything. Thinking it’s over. He finds you bouncing on a birthing ball and you grin at him.

“Hi, baby daddy!” you huff. “Happy birthday!”

“Hi! Hi…” he walks up to you, takes your hands in his although you do not stop bouncing. He kisses the top of your head, “Are you okay? How far along are you?”

“Three centimeters,” you pant. “And I am not getting off of this ball until it’s 10!”

“Okay, well, you have to take a break at some point. Do you need some water?”

“Nope! Just need to bounce.”

You last, maybe, five more minutes and then you need to lay down. Except you can’t. Because your contractions are ridiculous and you can never get comfortable and you end up on all fours in the bed, crying and groaning.

And three hours later, you are only 5 centimeters dilated.

Matthew lays in the bed beside you, patting your face with a rag, feeling absolutely useless. “What can I do, [y/n]? Tell me what to do.”

You cry and squeeze his hand until this contraction passes. You pant, “Y-y’know…I’ve heard sometimes…when a baby won’t come out…p-people….sometimes…”

“What? What do they do?”

“They…y’know…”

He is still confused.

“Like!” you shout in frustration. “Like, what gets the baby in also gets the baby out!”

It clicks, “Oh!” he exclaims. “Oh. Will that…will that hurt him?”

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head. “But he’ll sure as shit get the message.”

And so, two fingers, ten minutes and six big pushes later, Theodore Gray [y/l/n]-Gubler is born. He weighs eight pounds, five ounces but he feels so heavy in your arms.

Finally in your arms.

Matthew, like a big baby himself, can’t stop crying. Can’t stop looking at him. Can’t stop kissing your face, “Look at him! He’s beautiful! You did it! Oh, my god, [y/n]! Look what you did!”

Teddy is truly the best birthday gift Matthew has ever gotten.

Two days later, you’re discharged from the hospital. Matthew arranged for a car to drive you home and he installs the car seat himself. He pushes you out in a wheelchair, despite your frequent protests, and gets Teddy buckled in. He then helps you and into the car before sliding in on the opposite side of the car seat.

You cover Teddy with his blanket and touch your fingertips to his face. He’s fast asleep, but this little grin forms on his face and the two of you chuckle.

“Hey,” you coo to him. “Hey, mister man, what are you doing? Huh? You…really don’t look a thing like me.”

Matthew cackles, “Yeah. Yeah, that seems to be the general consensus.”

He follows behind you with the car seat as you unlock your front door and lead them inside.

“Should we…I mean, do we just let him sleep?” he asks you.

“Until he’s hungry, yeah,” you nod, taking Teddy from his carrier. “Oh, hi…” you whisper to him. “Hi, mister man, you wanna lay in your bed? Hm?”

You place him in his crib and he doesn’t make a sound. Doesn’t make a move. Matthew plops down on the floor, legs crisscrossed and you sit right beside him.

“He’s so fucking cool,” he tells you.

You giggle, “The coolest.”

The two of you could stare at him all day. You will.

“Is it still okay if spend the night?” he asks.

You look up at him with a smile, “Yes, we’d like that very much,” and you put your head on his shoulder.

His kisses your forehead softly, saying, “Cool.”

[ohbabydollie]

currently imagining a jaded, deadpan lit teacher!schlatt. super intelligent, incredible teacher that all his students adore and love to learn from, but they all swear to god they’ve never seen him smile once

then comes along absolute ray of sunshine teacher!y/n, probably teaching some kind of fine art, and it is just like a moth to a flame. he cannot stay away from you!

you meet for the first time in the teacher’s lounge and he’s a little taken aback, he doesn’t know what it is about you but something makes his little brain flip a switch and it’s all sunshine and rainbows. not much longer after that, you start becoming friends, sharing cool little things about your interests or the subjects you teach.

he does a pretty good job of hiding these feelings from the kids, just because he wants to keep that side of him private from his students, but one day he slips up. you sneak in during a class of his during your free period to return a book he recommended to you. when you walked out, he had no idea that he was smiling but apparently the students noticed.

“mr. schlatt, were you just smiling?”

“finish your essay.”

also am i allowed to be 🥥 anon

ofc, welcome 🥥 anon

before you came along schlatt was the most obviously exhausted and stressed teacher, but his students loved him.

from stapling mcdonald’s job applications on failed tests to talking about his cats. his students very clearly loved him and adored him, but he just seemed so sad in a way, especially when one of them got him to talk about his dating life.

single, with multiple failed dates under his belt

then you transferred to the school after the last art teacher had quit.

he had heard about you from his students, the new young single art teacher making sure to emphasize on the single part, but he always told them to focus on getting their assignment done over focusing on the teachers dating lives.

he really didn’t care for you, probably would be done in a few weeks if you couldn’t handle how rowdy and rough some of these kids could be. he gave you a month at best.

then you came into the teacher’s lounge getting snack after snack out of the vending machine as he watched in silence. not out of judgement, but he was just mesmerized completely

the concentration on your face as you punched in number after number watching the snacks fall before grabbing a cardboard box to place it all in was all so adorable to him, he didn’t even realize he had been staring until you looked over at him with a big smile.

“hi, i don’t believe we’ve met!” you chirp, “i’m y/n the new art teacher” you say extending out a hand for him to shake. he politely takes it, giving you a semi-awkward smile

“i’m jay, i teach english in b103” he says feeling himself turn red

“oh wow! i’m only down the hall from you, my room is c102” you say parting from the hand shake and picking up your box “well i’ll see you around” you say pushing the door open

and just like that you were gone as soon as you came

and schlatt had a new goal in mind, you

the next period he had came back better than ever. his normally deadpan and tired voice had more excitement and life to it and his students noticed for sure, waiting until the lesson was over to pry into him, but they all got the same response.

“jus added a shot of expresó into my coffee this mornin” he says starting to grade the assignments from his last class.

they had assumed that was it, nothing more to it until the next week where he seemed to be radiating with joy, when they pried into him again all he said was, “jus had some coffee from my favorite spot this mornin, nothin else”

he hadn’t mentioned it was with you.

over the next few months they noticed more and more change, fixing his hair more often, wearing his nicer clothes and whatever he could to look better.

as a student asked “so who’s the lucky lady?”

you had walked in holding a book, causing the room to fall silent. you practically floated to his desk as everyone watched you.

“hey, thanks for letting me borrow your copy, it was really good” you say handing him the book

“oh..it’s no problem, anytime” he says softly as you smile

“ ‘kay, well i’ll see you later, oh and your glasses are a little smudged” you say heading to leave as he watches in awe.

once you’re out, he’s taking off his glasses, smiling to himself with a small chuckle as he cleans them off, basking in the moment, completely forgetting his students were there until someone speaks up.

“mr. schlatt, are you smiling?” he asks teasingly before schlatt immediately drops the smile and goes deadpan again

“finish your assignment before i fail you”

[forthevillains]

WELL, SINCE YOU MENTIONED IT... Wesker breeding kink HCs?

I gotchu!

!NSFW!

~ Wesker surely never intended to have a child, he never thought of it, nor has he been aware of the kinks at all so the whole idea of breeding kink didn’t get to him at first. Yes, he always preferred to cum inside, but it wasn’t much of a big deal, it was purely for his comfort

~ with you however, it changed. Well sort of. He may not know why, but he grew to like it. The sight of his seed leaking from your sensitive pussy after he’s taken you was something that amused him too much. The thought of it resulting in making you swollen with his child, tying you to him forever... It awakened his possessiveness, something in his mind clicked at that moment and he knew it would be something he’d wish to do repeatedly

~ he’s a big creampie lover indeed

~ he becomes obsessed with it. So obsessed that if the imagine of you full of his cum crosses his mind, he gets immediately hard. No matter where he is, no matter what he’s doing. That thought alone is enough to make him go absolutely crazy with the need for you. The urge to have you below him, moaning his name while he pounds into you, pushing deeper and deeper with every thrust while you milk him dry. It would take all his self control not to jerk himself off right there. He’d try so hard to suppress all the dirty thoughts invading his mind only to fail over and over again, having to lock himself in his office, closing his eyes while gripping his cock, imagining it was your hand instead of his:(

~ his favorite position to breed you in is - as you could’ve guessed - missionary. Not only can he watch his piece of art afterwards, but can also make sure you don’t waste a single drop

~ even if you do, he’s gonna push it back in. After pulling out, he’d lower himself enough so that he could push as much as he can back in with his fingers while keeping his eyes on your face, to see your reactions, to know that it makes you as turned on as it makes him. While his skilled fingers would tease you, each of his touches so gentle yet eager. It’s enough to get both you and him ready for a second round.

~ however opportunities like this are limited. He’s a hardworking man and there should be always the time for you to shower afterwards unless you want to walk around with his cum leaking from your hole for the rest of the day. And believe that he made you do that at least once (probably after you’ve angered him), only to tease you about it and make you feel embarrassed

~ Wesker doesn’t really care if you’re on birth control or not. If you happen to be, he takes it as a challenge. He wants to try how long can it protect your womb from being occupied by his offspring. He wants to test it and he’s not gonna give up until one day - you actually become pregnant. Whether you want to keep it or not would be purely on you though, as it was mostly just a fun for him anyway

~ to redeem this poor man though… The act itself means a lot to him. Being comfortable enough with you to want you to carry his child is something he never did in his life. It’s not only an act of attraction, he takes it as all, marking his territory, proving to you that you’re his and his only, but also as his way of saying he’s yours as well.

[chrisevansonly]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝

ʚ charles leclerc x female reader

ʚ charles knows when he can’t escape the noise in his head, he can turn to you.

ʚ slight angst? mostly comfort fic<3

ʚ just needed a little comfort blurb today because my brain isn’t being so kind to me, so here we have it! i hope you enjoy

ʚ inspired by ‘what i was made for’ by billie eilish:)

It was as if you were waiting for the door to slam when Charles got home around one in the morning, the frustration boiling over as yet again he had a less than ideal race. Failed strategy after failed strategy you wondered just how much your boyfriend could really take, on the outside Charles put up a front, confident and neutral, but you knew deep down he held tidal waves of emotions from spilling over and taking him down with the current.

There was no slam, no cursing, just the soft click of the lock and the sound of the tap in the kitchen turning on. You reached for the bedside table and turned the light on, sitting up slightly, ready to envelope Charles into your arms, into the safety of your embrace. Listening closely to the footsteps that came down the hallway, once your eyes met his you could see just how exhausted he looked, how lost he seemed and it wasn’t long before his head was on your chest and your arms held him tightly to you.

“Oh my love….”

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest as your fingers ran up and down his back, the slight tremor in his breathing a sign he was finally letting out the emotions he tried so desperately to keep back

“Je crois que j’ai oublié comment être heureux..”

Hearing the slight crack in his tired voice was enough to line the bottom of your eyes with tears

“It’s okay to let yourself feel what you have to in order to relieve the pressure mon chère, I know this world has been testing you lately but I have no doubt in my mind that you will find that happiness again…no matter how long it takes…and i’ll be here to help you anyway I can..”

You paused

“Je ne veux pas te voir te perde Char”

“What was I made for…”

Your hands stopped moving on his back, sliding up to rest on his cheeks when he looked up at you, his eyes red and tired but nonetheless he still looked like your Charles…the Charles he felt slipping away

“You were made to shine your light on others cherie, you were made to love so fiercely with that heart of yours that has so much adoration for so many people. You were made to work your hardest like you do every second, for driving like your life depends on it each and every weekend you have a grand prix. You were made for me, to feel loved, to feel cherished, to feel special and to feel appreciated, not just by me but by your family, and I know they love you as much as I do…”

Leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead you leaned your head against his

“You were not made to hide yourself away, you were not made to repress yourself and feel as low as you have been, and you were not made to be treated this way…but this is a bump in the road, a big one, but you’re stronger than that. I know the journey is not fun right now and your tired, but you’ll make it out…stronger than ever Charles.”

He remained silent for another moment before you said one last thing

“Tu étais fait pour être toi-même, tu étais fait pour être l'homme que tu es aujourd'hui. brillant, attentionné, plein d'amour, et l'homme le plus fort que je connaisse. tu surmonteras ce Charles, et je serai avec toi, tout au long du parcour.”

It wasn’t long before he was pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his arms bringing you into him, holding you as if he was afraid you’d turn to dust and disappear with the smallest of breezes. When he needed air from the constant torment of waves, you were his breath of fresh air, you were the calm in the storm, the cover in the rain, and for that he was grateful.

“Je t’aime…”

It was simple, and the only words he could get out without another onslaught of emotions and you were fine with that, because those words meant the most to you.

“I love you too Charles, more than you’ll ever know.”

Think I forgot, how to be happy, something i’m not, but something I can be…something I’ll wait for.

[siren-serenity]

when he loves you

characters: buggy, gn!reader warnings: fluff, angst, slightly overpowered buggy??? a/n: - in this household, we live, laugh, love buggy the clown <3 - feedback is appreciated!

part one (shanks) // part two (ace) // part three (buggy)

when buggy loves you, he's a fool in love. utterly besotted, completely head over heels for you. there is no doubting it, and honestly, who would? it's a nice change for the pirates on the 'big top'; seeing their fearsome leader stumbling over himself to impress you never fails to put a smile on their faces. but sometimes...they just pray you would accept his advances because they’re so sickeningly sweet.

"captain's at it again," cabaji laughs, handing mohji a box of circus equipment. "still don't know how y/n doesn't notice." mohji lets out a hearty chuckle and then spies the mentioned duo. buggy's cheeks are as red as his beloved lipstick and his eyes were wide with boyish love. he waves his hands widely as he speaks and even from faraway, cabaji and mohji can hear the little cracks in his voice whenever you respond or compliment him. "i think y/n notices though," mohji hums, pointing out the way your lips twitched upwards. "perhaps they like the attention?" cabaji snorts. "captain buggy's got plenty to give; they don't need to worry about that." "AND THEN! and then we set sail, far away, sailing far away from the island with ten- no, hundreds of marine ships following us!" "so heroic!" "AHFALDSKLADSJFLA" cabaji and mohji exchange a laugh as they continue with their duties.

when buggy loves you, you start to understand that although he isn't very good with words, he loves physical affection. he can't stand going a few meters apart from you unless his chopped off hand is laced with your own. he just wants to feel your warmth, to remind him that he is worthy and loved in somebody's eyes. you start to learn (and love) how touchy he is with you, and that you’re the only one he dares to be with like this. vulnerable, open, and unguarded.

"buggy," you laugh, playfully pushing his head away. he pouted as he continued to nuzzle his face into the crook of your collarbone. your back was pressed into his chest and buggy didn't want to let you go. at all. "cabaji's calling for me!" "he can do that later," buggy grumbled, huffing as a lock of hair fell into his face. "i'm the captain." you kissed his cheek before standing up. or well, attempted. buggy just flexed his arms and you fell back into his embrace again. a little smile crawls onto his face when he realizes that he had succeeded in making you stay, just for a while longer.

when buggy loves you, he starts to open up and let down his guard. at first, it was to test you…whether you would stay or leave him just like everyone else in his life (captain roger, shanks, the list just keeps going). but…to his immense surprise, you took his precious glass heart and cradled it close. you didn’t smash it to smithereens nor did you laugh at the various cracks in the glass. you simply held it like his heart was a precious treasure and his soul practically sung.

the silence was deafening. buggy’s throat was hoarse after he ended his storytelling of his own life. the grim parts, the bittersweet ones, the soul-destroying parts — buggy spilled everything to you. he fiddled with his fingers and looked at his lap. he didn’t dare face you; a part of him was so afraid. “buggy?” your voice was soft. your hand gently caressed his makeup-covered cheeks, brushing softly. “look at me, love.” buggy gulped and looked up, only to flinch at the overflowing love in your eyes. they were for him, and only him. the knowledge of it almost made him break out into sobs and throw himself into your arms. “y-yeah?” “thank you for telling me your story,” you pulled him into a hug and he instinctively nuzzled himself into the crook of your collarbone. his round nose rubbed at your shoulders soothingly. “I love you, cracks and all. thank you for trusting me.” he couldn’t hold back anymore, breaking out into loud, embarrassing, theatrical sobs. “thank you!” for the first time, buggy believed he finally found someone who would stay with him through thick and thin.

when buggy loves you, the world learns to fear him. the marines used to think that buggy is just a simple villain of the east blue…but if anything happened to you, they remember whose crew he grew up with (the roger pirates…perhaps the greatest of the pirate era.) they learn to fear the day buggy unleashes his full power on the world government, all in the name of love.

because at heart, buggy is a pirate in love. he’s fallen for you so hard that he would stop at nothing to keep you safe.

“you dared,” his voice haunted the nightmares of the marines. their ship floated brokenly in the seas; various wooden planks dotted the ocean blue surface. sharks rose up to gobble loose limbs. “you dared to mess with my crew?” his eyes flashed bright blue. “not only that, you dare hurt my beloved?!” something monstrous was brewing. the marines could smell it in the air, taste it on their tongue. it was the scent of power and it was overflowing from the “simple villain of the east blue”. buggy’s lips curved into a cruel smirk, highlighted with lipstick as red as blood. he raised his hands. armament haki painted the tips of his fingers black. observation haki made his eyes appear striking. his soul sung of the colors of the supreme king. “why don’t i just kill all of you flashily?!?!”

[verdemoun]

Oh my god I wanna hear about Sean going to the dentist. All of them going to the dentist and doctor regularly please. Wanna see Arthur Morgan going to the doctor like "Jesus fuck you have the lungs of a man who's been chainsmoking since birth. Did you have some kinda lung disease" "haha whaaat that's crazy 🤯" how does the gang handle the doctors. Is Dutch antivax. Is Micah being as much as a asshole to the nurses as I think he'd be

Sean had to go to the dentist for complications involving a) smoking and b) y'know literally having teeth pulled and not healing correctly and assumed he would be fine with it because unstoppable Sean Macguire. Calmly talking about yeah got a tooth ache and sometimes this hole in my gum starts oozing randomly. Laying back in the chair making jokes about give me some of that good shit doc right up until they tried to put something in his mouth. Proceeded to jump up, punch the dentist at full strength hard in the jaw, throw the nurse over and sprint back to the reception room where several of the gang were waiting with tears in his eyes before going 'lol classic Sean' at himself. Hyperventilated for 20 minutes in the car 'hahahaaa what's wrong with me am I dying'. They found him a dentist who they very much warned about what happened to the last dentist and he absolutely has to be knocked out before they do anything even vaguely near his mouth. They've tried when he was almost out of it and he still started trying to fist fight and threw himself onto the floor before it fully kicked in.

Most of the gang go to the same doctor who is both scared of them and for them. Sees Bessie Matthews has made an appointment and just feels fear what strange old-fashioned creature has she found today! Unmedicated hyperactivity who will not stop making jokes but explode into violence if touched in the wrong place, with what look like cane scars over most of his back and ass? Semi-verbal adult who must come with another adult because he will stare at the fish tank so intently he will miss hearing his name called despite being fully aware and very compliant with picking up and taking his medication on time? Another mysterious oddly polite 40 year old with very obvious gunshot scars over far too much of their body? Adult women who have not heard of condoms and need a triple appointment to even understand the concept of birth control? Every. Single. One. Needing. Every. Single. Vaccine. Desperately wanting to know what cult they escaped to have missed so many. Getting a frantic phone call from the CDC that antibodies for smallpox were found in a blood sample he sent away for testing.

Arthur is so paranoid about his health. He went through feeling his body degrade and fail him and feeling like he was drowning in his own lungs when so much of his identity before then was being the workhorse and the enforcer and strong man. Getting a second chance in a body magically restored to the exact moment before he was infected with TB was as glorious as it was horrifying. Never wanting to feel sick again. Coughing because he swallowed wrong and immediately booking an appointment with his GP because he is terrified of getting sick. Modern medicine is his religion. Will never not use nicotine patches but is making a conscious effort to quit smoking because cigarettes bad for lungs. No longer having the gunshot wound on his shoulder from Colm but getting phantom pains. Plenty of other older injuries he had accumulated over his life he experiences pain from as he keeps aging. Sees a physio twice a week for trying to take care of himself physically.

Dutch is not anti-vax but he is very anti-big pharma despite relying on a colorful candy-like assortment of drugs to maintain balance. Acts like a victim despite never having to actually pay for his own meds and care because the VDLs cover it to make sure he is in a stable, positive environment. Goes on the biggest lectures about pharmaceuticals being a scam and the corrupt power of branding and lack of peer-reviewed studies into the effect of specific medications over time only to be called over by his doctor to discuss a new alternative to one of his current meds and excitedly skipping over 'oh goodie!!'.

Dutch is in the psych ward watching House MD and it becomes part of his identity.

Yes. Micah is a creep and doesn't believe women can be doctors. He is the token anti-vax. Nurse showing him to the exam room and he's like 'slow down lemme see that little canter' biting his lip fuckboy emoji. But he also goes to a dodgiest clinic in his sleezy local area so the fact he isn't actively groping the nurses makes him one of the less offensive people they have to deal with. Most of his visits to the clinic are because he's gotten pepper-sprayed or wrecked by a woman with self defense training yay go women I love women beating up Micah Bell.

[outtherecreations]

Out of Sync [REWRITE]| Rick Sanchez x Reader | Part 4:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

A/N: This is gonna have a time skip. It’s been like 2 months since Rick moved in.

A/N: This was 100% rewritten after the season 6 premiere

My eyes slowly open, I gasp weakly, looking around the garage in confusion as my heart beats harshly in my chest. “R-Rick?” I mumble, frowning a bit, Rick stands over me and starts to gently stroke my arm “Shhh, Baby. Go back to sleep, ok? Everything’s gonna b-be better when you wake up. I’m not gonna-gonna fail you again.” He tells me softly “What the h*ll are you…-” I wince, feeling a sharp pain in my neck. I slowly start to slip back into unconsciousness…

“R-Rick’s gonna make you feel all better…he won’t stand there and watch you d-die again…just relax. I’m-I’m gonna make it all better…”

“Haha! I mother f*cking did it!”

I groan tiredly when Rick violently shakes me awake. I glance at him, he grins widely “Check it out, baby! You’re looking at the guy that just created this!” He says proudly. I look at the oddly shaped gun in confusion, “Is that what you’ve been working on this whole time? What is it?” I ask, rubbing my eyes.

“It’s a portal gun,” Rick explains “With this I can travel across dimensions. I can go anywhere I want.” “Did you make sure it works?” I ask, yawning. Rick rolls his eyes “Of course I made sure it worked. Watch.” He says before shooting the portal gun beside the bed. I shield my eyes from the bright green glow the portal produces. I look at the portal in awe, “See it works.” Rick says proudly, placing a hand on my back

“Wow, Rick, this is-”

“Now let’s see if it’s safe.”

Rick shoves me into the portal, I let out a scream. I hit a hard tile floor, I sit up and look around. I was in the kitchen…

“Did it work? Are you alive?” Rick asks, walking out of our bedroom. I turn to him angrily “Rick, what the h*ll?! What if that killed me?!” I shout, I shove him. Rick scoffs, “Come on, N/N. You didn’t die. I knew the portal was safe.” He says. “Then, why didn’t you go through it too?” I ask, I lower my voice, Beth doesn’t need to hear this sh*t. Rick huffs and crosses his arms at me, “Well, I thought you would’ve wanted to be the first one to experience portal travel.” He states bitterly “Yeah, you’re were wrong.” I sigh angrily, I turn on my heels and storm towards our bedroom. “Stop being dramatic!” Rick calls, I ignore him and shut the door. I flop onto the bed tiredly

There was a green flash outside the door. I hug my knees tightly, he’s gonna come in here…I know it…he’s gonna come in here and apologize like he always does. We’re gonna work through this…this isn’t the end of us…

Beep…beep…beep…beep

Rick stands over me as I start to open my eyes, “There she is.” Rick says with a drunken smile. I try to sit up up, but Rick stops me “Whoa, hang on. I wouldn’t do that if I were you, you just went through major surgery.” Rick warns “Major…what?” I ask. “Congrats, I fixed your heart. Now you won’t have random heart attacks anymore. You’re welcome-no need to thank me…unless, you really want to~”

“Rick, what did you do?” I ask, looking at the large scar on my chest. Rick smiles drunkenly, “I-I-I saved you, Baby. I saved you like any good husband would…” He tells me. I stare at the scar with wide eyes, I frown sadly, “What’s-URP-wrong? This is the part where you’re happy.” Rick states. “Why would I be happy? I didn’t want this!” I snap angrily “Didn’t want-you didn’t want to be helped? To finally stop taking those big *ss pills? To live your life, knowing you can actually live it?” Rick asks, glaring at me.

I fight back the sadness I was feeling, “How…how do I know you didn’t put some…experimental heart that could end up killing me?! So you wouldn’t have to put in yourself, you made me your test monkey!” I ask, trying to keep up my anger.

I know this isn’t the Rick I had Beth with…I know he isn’t the Rick I got into so many fights with-Rick explained it to me so many times when he wasn’t drunk…well, he was less drunk than normal, but I still find it hard to separate the Rick that’s been purposely losing his blankets to sleep in my bed and the Rick that would purposely sleep in the garage to make sure he didn’t have to see me at night…

Some things about how we met are the same…other things are different. How do I know this isn’t one of those times where this Rick and the ‘first’ Rick are the same.

Rick stares at me for a second, he blinks slowly before speaking with anger “W-who-why-did that other Rick f*cking do that to you?!” He asks angrily. I didn’t respond, “WHAT THE F*CK?! THAT GUY’S WORSE THAN I THOUGHT! Not o-o-only did he take away the few things I actually cared about in life, but he-he didn’t appreciate what he had! SON OF A B*TCH!” Rick screams, gripping his hair angrily. He turns to me quicker than I was expecting, my eyes widen at him. There’s no telling what he’d do when he’s in this state..

BeepBeep…BeepBeep…BeepBeepBeep.

“I want you to u-understand something, Y/N,” Rick says, holding my hands firmly “I f*cking love you, ok?! I wanted to spend the rest of m-my sh*tty life with you! You made my life less sh*tty! Y-y-you wanna know why I took time to build you a heart? Because-if you die! I’ll die! Then B-Beth will have no parents and be so depressed that she gives Jerry another kid! Is that what you want Y/N? Another Jerry running around?! At least we could save Summer and M-Morty from ending up like him, b-but this one will be all alone!”

Ok, he’s ranting, he doesn’t mean anything he just said. Good.

I sigh, I try to pull my hands away from his, but Rick doesn’t let go. He stopped ranting, looking down with a defeated frown. I sigh silently, I squeeze Rick’s hands softly…he glances at me, I look down “Thank you-” Rick engulfs me into a hug “I knew you’d l-l-like it! Hang on,” Rick pulls out of the hug “I’m gonna go get the-the…stuff to show you how it works! Wubba lubba dub dub!” He runs out of the garage, leaving me to listen the the sounds of the heart monitor…I frown at the floating feeling in my chest.

My dimension or not, I refuse to fall in love with him again.

~4 Days Later~

“Hey, Grandma, what do you think of this?” Summer asks, walking out of the dressing room. She was wearing a black dress, fishnet stockings, and some high heels. I sniffle a little, “I would be so jealous of you if we went to high school together.” I say proudly.

Summer lights up, “Really? You think I should get it?” She asks excitedly “The mom in me says no, buuuut, I’ve raised my kid-so I say you should definitely get it.” I tell her, Summer squeals “Thanks, Grandma!” She says before going back into the dressing room. I smile at her softly.

“Wow, I’m shocked you approved of that outfit…”

A guy around my age smile at me softly, “Well, I believe in letting kids wear what they want. As long as they’re not naked.” I state with a shrug. “That’s good…not a lot of open minded people in our generation. I hope you’re open minded with other things too.” The man chuckles softly, I cringe a little, but it didn’t last long so the guy didn’t notice. Summer walks out of the dressing room, holding the dress she was going to buy for her school dance thing.

“I can’t wait for the other girls to see me in this and sh*t their panties in jealousy-um, who’s this?” Summer asks, eyeing the dude…it’s ironic how she looks like Jerry, but makes expressions that Rick tends to make. “Oh, I have no idea. We’re just started talking.” I tell her, the man chuckles again. “My name’s Leroy.” He states, Summer and I share an unimpressed look. “Hey, if you’re not too busy, maybe we could have some brunch one day. I know a good place.” Leroy says, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I smile politely, fighting the strong urge to laugh at his offer. “Sorry, but I’m not interested in dating at the moment.” I tell him. Leroy only smirks a little bit, “But at one point, you will be interested in dating again…when the time comes. Give me a call?” He asks, handing me a paper with his number on it. “I-I…will.” I say awkwardly before Summer drags me away.

She buys her clothes and we get into the car. “So…Leroy?” Summer asks, I nod…the two of us break into a laughing fit. “He really thought he had a chance with the name Leroy?!” Summer laughs “That and his stupid sh*tty pick up line!” I snort. “And he already had his number pre-written down?! Who does that?!” Summer asks through her fits of laughter, “Apparently, guys named Leroy do.” I laugh. Summer wheezes.

(A/N: No offense to any Leroys)

Our laughter starts to die down as I start the car. Summer glances at me, “Are you gonna tell Grandpa?” She asks me. “Uh, no. Why would I tell him?” I scoff lightly “Aren’t you two back together?” Summer asks, scrolling through her phone. “No. Why would you even think that?” I ask, eyeing her worriedly. Summer smirks at me.

“You two are sleeping in the same bed.”

“Not by choice. Rick always get in my bed when he’s drunk. And that’s every night.”

“What about when you two flirt?”

“Making fun of his bald spot isn’t flirting.”

“What about when he tells you he’d die without you.”

“That’s because I’m the only one that forces him to drink water and eat an actual meal...”

Summer smirks even more, “Yeah, sure.” She says “I’m serious, we’re not back together. There’s no chance of that happening.” I say seriously, gripping the steering wheel tightly. I frown a little at Summer snickering a little, “Yeah, whatever you say, Gram.” She teases. I roll my eyes a little.

~Next Day~

I stand outside the garage door nervously. Jerry walks in, “Jerry, before I die. Always know, I don’t hate you as a person, I hate you as a son in law…and as a person. But more as a son in law.” I states “Um…ok…” Jerry says. “Also, if I die, leave Beth or I’m haunting your *ss.” I say firmly before I take a deep breath and walk into the garage.

Rick lays across his desk, knocked out as usual. I sigh and slowly approach him, my hand shakes as I reach for his lab coat. I suck in a breath, slowly pulling Rick’s flask out of his pocket. Rick remains unfazed, I quickly run out the garage.

Jerry was still in the kitchen, he watches me with confusion. “Jerry, leave now, I don’t want any witnesses.” I sigh, screwing the cap off the flask. I sniff the bottle-I quickly pull it away from my face. The scent was so strong, I feel drunk off of smelling it. Jerry takes whatever he wanted before quickly leaving.

I pour the orangey liquid down the drain, whatever Rick’s been drinking is super thick…I frown worriedly before sighing “I’m only doing this so he stops being drunk around me…” I mumble. I rinse out the sink, “Ok…time to refill this with something.” I hum. I grab some orange soda out of the fridge, I pour it into the flask.

“Eh. Might as well add Sprite.” I say, pouring in Sprite too. I screw the top back on, I beam proudly as I turn to walk back into the garage. “AAAH!” I scream, Rick stands in front of me “W-what are you doing?” He asks. Rick glares at me suspiciously. “D-drugs?” I wheeze out fearfully, Rick snatches the flask out my hands “I know! Do-do you know what this will do to you if you drink it?!” Rick scolds.

My eyes flash concern for a split second, “I’m guessing the same thing it does to you.” I state, trying to move past Rick. He drops the flask and grabs my shoulders, “Did…did I just hear some concern in your voice?” He asks. I pull out of his hold, “Yeah, you keep sleeping in my d*mn bed, last thing I need is you dying next to me. I got enough trauma cuz of you…” I sigh.

Rick picks up the flask, and takes a sip. He pauses, I tense a little, but relax when Rick continues drinking. He walks away back into the garage I quickly walk into the living room. Morty was sitting on the couch, I frown a little when he starts at the tv emotionlessly…I guess Beth and Jerry’s latest fights have been getting to him… “Hey, Morty…” I greet softly “Hey, did-did you do the thing?” He asks, I shush him. I nod, Morty frowns nervously “Won’t he find out and get mad?” He whispers.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t need to be drinking that stuff anyway.” I hum, turning up the tv. Morty stares at me for a moment before slowly going back to watching tv. Morty taps his fingers nervously, “What do you wanna ask?” I ask him “H-huh?” Morty asks with wide eyes “Morty, I can pick up on your little tells. I know you want to either ask or tell me something.” I state.

Morty’s tapping comes to a stop, “You stopped taking your pills,” He starts nervously “Are you-…trying to do something to yourself?” Morty frowns at me sadly. My eyes widen, “No! Morty! No, no! I have too much confidence to do anything like that. I’m shock with how much he drags you around, Rick never said anything.” I snort lightly, “A-about what?” Morty asks, his sad frown turns into a confused one.

“He gave me a mechanical heart because…I’m not really sure. But I have yet to blow up, so, I think the act was genuine.” I hum “Wow, s-so, Rick helped your heart issues and-and you’re trying to help his drinking problem?” Morty asks, he cracks a smallest of smiles “I…I guess. But I’m not doing that for any romantic reasons. I’m just returning the favor.” I say, crossing my arms and cringing-even I don’t believe the sh*t coming out of my mouth…

“Would you ever want to get back together with Rick?” Morty asks bluntly, I look at him before sighing heavily “I really don’t know…the dumb part of me would love to jump at the chance to rekindle the love that was taken from me just as soon I as I got used to it, but the smart part of me knows that OUR Rick, the one who left me and your mother, was an awful…sometimes even mentally abusive sack of sh*t…” I trail off, Morty tilts his head at me “I know, that Rick and the Rick who’s currently sucking down Sprite and Orange soda are almost two different people, but I guess my brain is struggling to separate the two. Which means, I really don’t see me and any Rick getting back together.” I sigh. Morty hums, staring at the ground.

~Author’s POV~

~(Meanwhile)~

Rick stares at the screen quietly, “I knew I tasted Sprite in this…” He mutters, studying his flask. Rick swiftly types words into the keyboard, allowing the robot to continue speaking…

“It looks like Rick still has f-feelings for you.”

“It feels more love-bombing than anything, Morty.”

Rick frowns and types more, “What if he actually loves you?” ‘Morty’ asks seriously. Rick watches your face twitch a little, showing a little sadness behind your eyes “I don’t think he can anymore, Morty…not without being drunk…” You mumble. Rick hits a button, making ‘Morty’ frown, Rick’s face mirrors the robot’s expression. Rick reaches for the keyboard again- “Know what, Morty…I might just go out on the brunch-date with Leroy.” You admit.

“Who the h*ll’s Leroy?” Rick mumbles “W-who’s that?” The Morty robot asks nervously “Some guy who asked me out when Summer was getting her dress for the dance. He was a little weird, but he seemed sweet enough…I guess.” You say with a very unconvincing tone.

You shrug, taking the remote “Who knows, maybe it’s better for me to date someone that’s dumber than me. I probably just wasn’t good enough for Rick…” You mumble. Rick frowns deeply as you look down sadly. “No wonder Beth ended up with Jerry if that’s the mindset she saw you have.” Rick grumbles disappointedly.

~Next Morning~

~Y/N’s POV~

I yawn tiredly, stretching my arms and legs out. “Huh…” I mumble, I look around to see Rick was gone. Weird, usually I’m normally the first one out of bed. I frown a little.

“D-don’t worry, Baby!”

I scream when Rick rolls from under the bed, “I’m still here, you don’t have-have to be sad.” Rick snorts. “I wasn’t-“ “Save that tsundere-ness for the next chapter.” Rick says, cutting me off “The next chapter? Are you still drunk?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Nope,” Rick hums “I’m not going to be drunk for today.” Rick takes a sit on the bed. “What happens today, Rick?” I ask tiredly, I’m not really in the mood for whatever he has planned. Rick grabs my shoulders and turns me to face him, he grins chaotically.

“You and I are gonna spend the whole day together. Just us~” He coos, wrapping an arm around me. “What?” I ask, letting out a heavy sigh. Rick whips out his portal gun and I flinch with wide eyes “Oh h*ll yeah! Rick and Y/N chapter!” He cheers, opening a portal. I scream when we fall through….

[ifearzombies]

Yet MORE Headcanons about life in the HoL

Previous post here with links to the other two: [x]

- On days that Levi’s depression is REALLY bad, you pull the futon into his room and you and Mammon keep him company.

- You have more contact with the Human Realm than you did your first year and call friends and relatives. Every call, without fail, is interrupted. Usually by Mammon.

- Asmodeus has been given clearance to have fun with your friends in bed. He does NOT, however, have clearance to have sex with relatives. Your single friends visit with Asmo a lot and the next morning you talk with them over the phone or at the table about how talented he is. He LOVES it.

- You have a weekly trip to Wail-mart for condoms and lube. They have a bag ready for you every Friday at this point. If you’re a fem!MC and forget one week, the next bag has a pregnancy test.

- You told Satan there’s a musical called ‘Cats’. You two now sing songs from the Broadway show and have gone to it several times. You don’t talk about the movie version. Satan has decided the movie doesn’t exist. His favorite cat is Rum Tum Tugger since he’s defiant to Munkustrap.

- You wanted to watch ‘Ratatouille’ with everyone. Barbatos was horrified the movie even exists and destroyed the disc in your hand. You tried to tell him and the more you tell him, the paler he gets. The movie gets put on the banned list. This also extended to ‘Secret of Nimh’ and ‘Flushed Away’.

- Between working out with Beel, pampering and fashion with Asmo, etiquette lessons with Barbatos and Lucifer, and Belphegor helping you sleep more peacefully you are healthier than you’ve ever been.

- You’ve learned a lot of magic and you and Solomon taught some of your friends. A few of them want to go to RAD for a few years. You’re working out details with Diavolo and the Celestial Realm, but Diavolo is ecstatic.

- You got Beel the 5lb gummy bears and worms. Also a few of the giant Hershey kisses. Beel hadn’t known there were snacks that big and he was so happy to find out. Though he struggled to eat the bear. It was pretty cute.

- As a gag gift you got Asmo one of those 55 gallon drums of lube. It backfired because he absolutely loved it and he took it to an orgy party with cubi later that week.

- You’ve just now sworn off singing any songs dealing with depression or dark topics. You sang ‘I was meant to be yours’ from Heathers and like with the ‘My R’ incident, house was in mass panic. Simeon was asked to counsel you again and he still was a bit confused but was glad you were OK. Solomon, however, laughed his ass off.

- You found out some of your older relatives were super uber religious and hated everyone but Simeon and Luke. And then you found out one was racist when they said something horrible about Simeon. Simeon had never heard the slur before, but once you explained the meaning, he cried. Satan nearly went to the Human Realm to teach them a lesson, but you reassured they weren’t worth it. They weren’t your family anymore. Everyone in the Devildom was. And you were cutting that relative out. You also cut the super religious ones after they insulted your demons. 

- You watched ‘Shrek The Musical’ with Levi and Mammon. You’ve caught them both belting out songs from the soundtrack. You filmed both of them.

- You jammed out to ‘Like a Prayer’ and Simeon joined in. Asmo then said the song was about sex and Simeon nearly passed out. You explained that it’s actually about being so in love with God that the singer feels he’s an actual boyfriend/man in her life. You debated heavily on this while Simeon had a panic attack. It’s ‘Like a virgin’ that’s about sex.

- You bought Belphie one of those space globes that turn the room into outer space when the light goes out. He and Beel love it.

- You’ve discovered songs about the Devil promoting evil actually really hurt Diavolo’s feelings. Especially ‘When You’re Evil’. He caught you listening and he nearly cried and asked if you thought he was really like that. You had to reassure him that was not the case. Beel heard the song and was just confused why his name was confused with other people in there.

- A few relatives were concerned you decided to emigrate to actual literal Hell. Those whose opinions you ACTUALLY care about, you invited them with permission from Diavolo and Lucifer. By the end, your relatives loved your chosen family. Some of them send gifts to the Devildom just for them and each item sent is treated like a treasure by the recipient. 

[kallie-den]

Marital Aid Ch. 1

Clea uses hypnosis to liberate her boss, Isabella, from a failing marriage… and awaken her to the life as a kinky lesbian

This story was a commission from one of my patrons! Thank you very much to Myles_EXVS for their kind support

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“Clea?” The sound of Bruna’s voice brought Clea back to herself. “You’re supposed to be spotting for me, babe.”

“Right.” Clea shook her head, blushing a little. “Sorry.”

“Hold on.”

Bruna strained and groaned as she lifted the monstrously heavy bar up over her head and placed it back onto the rack. She sat up on the exercise bench, and Clea apologetically offered her a sweat towel to wipe her forehead off with. Clea was a little jealous of just how good her friend looked when she was working out; Bruna had the kind of muscular figure that made other girls drool, and her deep brown, Brazilian skin always glistened appealingly when she was flushed and sweating from exertion. Clea couldn’t relate.

“OK,” Bruna said, after taking a swig of water. “What’s on your mind? Out with it.”

Clea sighed and sat down on the bench next to her. Unfortunately, Bruna knew her too well. The two of them had been gym buddies for a long time, and friends for longer.

“It’s…” Clea didn’t know where to begin. It was far too embarrassing.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Bruna asked sympathetically.

“Yeah.” Clea planted her head in her hands. “Yeah. It is.”

She didn’t need to explain who ‘her’ was. They both knew.

Isabella.

“Oh, girl.” Bruna threw one of her big, strong arms across Clea’s shoulder. “You’re down seriously bad.”

Clea groaned and leaned in. She didn’t need Bruna to tell her that. Isabella consumed her every waking thought. The reason she’d been zoning out when she was supposed to be spotting for Bruna was because she’d been caught up in picturing Isabella’s smiling face. She’d reached schoolgirl levels of hopeless infatuation.

And there were two massive problems with it.

Firstly, Isabella was her boss. Clea was pretty sure that falling in love with the woman she worked for wasn’t part of a personal secretary’s job description. Workplace romances like that never worked out, and she was sure Isabella was too much of a stickler to ever consider it. There was also an accompanying age gap - Clea was in her mid-twenties while Isabella was in her thirties. That didn’t bother her so much, especially since Clea had such a fondness for older women, but it was yet another obstacle.

The second, much bigger problem was that Isabella was both straight and married.

“Falling for a straight girl.” Clea sighed again, heavier. “She’s amazing, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I wish I could just forget about all these feelings and move on. It’s so hard, having to be near her, day after day, never being able to act on them.”

“I bet,” Bruna said soothingly. She reached up and started stroking Clea’s long, red hair.

“And the worst part is seeing that she’s not happy!” Clea vented. “Her pig of a husband makes her miserable, I can just tell. Why couldn’t it be me instead? I’d treat her the way she deserves. I’d treat her like a queen.”

“I know you would,” Bruna assured her. She paused for a moment and then turned to look closely at Clea, a cunning smile on her face. “You know, babe, you do have a way of making that happen.”

Clea threw a sharp look up at her. “I don’t even know if it works.”

“Oh, it works,” Bruna told her, grinning. “I was going to tell you afterward. I tested it very thoroughly. I have all the data you said you’d need to make the final calibrations.”

“Yeah, I bet you were thorough,” Clea snorted. “I heard a few rumors about what you’ve been up to with that heiress girl.”

“Now, now. I don’t kiss and tell.” Bruna’s grin took on a cocky, swaggering quality. Clea’s friend loved to kiss and tell. “Anyway, the point is: it’s amazing! I can’t believe my friend knows how to mind-control people. It’s like you’re a supervillain or something.”

At that, Clea laughed. “It’s just a hobby,” she retorted. “I’ve always liked audio mixing and video editing. It started with music videos, but then I got really curious about how different kinds of sounds and different frequencies can affect the human mind. And, uh, I guess one thing lead to another.”

The ‘another’, in this case, was a suite of software and a set of techniques that allowed her to create audio and video files that had a potent, hypnotic effect on the listener. Clea could almost literally reprogram them with whatever commands she chose - at least, within reason and with enough exposure. Clea objected to the idea that she was some kind of supervillain, but admittedly, the description wasn’t too far off.

“So,” Bruna pressed, “why not put all that work to good use?”

“You mean… with Isabella?” Clea frowned. “No. In fact, I don’t even want that experimental data. I don’t want to think about it.”

"Why not? Just think about it! No more yearning, no more heartache. You could have her.”

Clea felt a definite, stirring pang, but looked away. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is,” Bruna countered.

“I-it wouldn’t be right.”

“From what you said about her husband, it sounds like she’d be happier with you,” Bruna pointed out. “Why not think of it as giving her a little push towards a happy ending? You can’t tell me that’s not part of what this was all for. The testing. Your little hobby.”

“It just…” Clea stood up, shrugging off Bruna’s arm, and started to pace. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t feel right. Not with her.”

“Why not?” Bruna asked again, a touch exasperated.

“Because I care about her, Bruna,” Clea replied. “She’s not just a pretty girl I’m looking to get into bed. It’s more than that. I want her to be happy.”

“You could make her happy,” Bruna pointed out. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Maybe she’s happy right now,” Clea shot back. “Maybe that’s why she’s still with him. I don’t know. That’s the point. I can’t just decide that for her. What if I’m wrong? What if I make it worse?”

“Wow, babe,” Bruna said, raising an eyebrow. “You really are down bad.”

Clea sank back down miserably onto the bench. “Yeah. I know.”

Bruna squeezed her shoulder. “Well, here’s what we’re gonna do,” she said. “We’re going to keep working out until you’re so exhausted you can barely think. Then we’re gonna go back to my bar and get drunk until you definitely can’t think. Sound good?”

“God yes,” Clea sighed.

“Atta girl.” Clea stood up, allowing Bruna to lie back down along the exercise bench, and rest her hands back on the barbell. As she did, she threw Clea one last look. “But just remember: you ever change your mind, and the data’s yours. Just give me a call.”

***

The next evening, Clea’s head was still throbbing from the hangover. Bruna drank hard, and her bar was well-stocked. The headache was a welcome pain. A welcome distraction. To take her mind off of it, and off of everything else, she was preparing a nice, big pot of stew. It would take the edge off her hangover, and give her some welcome nourishment for the week to come. The stew was still simmering on her stovetop, however, when Clea found herself much, much more distracted by a message she’d just received.

Can I come over?

It was from Isabella.

Clea’s boss, the woman she was hopelessly head-over-heels for, had just texted her on a Sunday evening to ask to come over to her apartment. Maybe she should have replied with ‘no’, or ‘I’m busy, sorry’. Maybe she should even have left her on read. There were reasons to. Refusing would have helped maintain professional boundaries, and would have helped Clea stop torturing herself about a doomed romance.

Instead, she had replied ‘yes’ right away.

And now, as she waited for Isabella to arrive, Clea was left with nothing to do but watch her stew simmer and wonder about what, exactly, had happened. She and Isabella had a friendly and warm relationship at work, to be sure. Sometimes they even confided in one another a little - that was how Clea had caught a hint of her marital issues. But suddenly dropping in to visit Clea at her apartment? That was completely unprecedented.

Clea desperately wanted to know why. But with Isabella already on her way, there was nothing for her to do except keep pacing back and forward across her kitchen restlessly, wondering, trying to stop herself from giving in to needless speculation or fruitless hope. Occasionally, she couldn’t help dashing over to the mirror in her bathroom to make sure that she looked presentable. Part of her wanted to put on some makeup, but the knowledge that she’d look like she’d gotten all dolled up on a Sunday night just to stay home and cook held her back.

Eventually, mercifully, the buzzer for her apartment rang.

Clea rushed down and opened the door as quickly as she could, and let out a mourning gasp when she laid eyes on her boss.

Isabella had been crying. That much was obvious from the way her eyes were red from tears and wide with worry. It pained Clea to see her beauty marred by such sadness. She was still beautiful, though. Clea was struck by that every single time she saw her boss.

Isabella Chase was aging more than gracefully into her thirties. Put simply, she had a figure to die for, and looked just as killer in the t-shirt and jeans she was currently wearing as she did in the smart, well-tailored business wear Clea was used to seeing on her. She had a slender, pretty face, with high, arched, sharp cheekbones that somehow became rounded and full when she laughed and smiled, lighting up her whole face. Her short, black, shoulder-length hair framed her features perfectly, and her tanned, brown skin took on a thousand tones in a different light. Clea never got tired of looking at her. She just hoped her boss hadn’t noticed the way she stared. Especially since Isabella did know that Clea was a lesbian.

“Hey,” Clea said awkwardly. “What’s wrong?”

As soon as she saw Clea, Isabella sagged. “I’m sorry,” she said heavily. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“What? No!” Clea replied urgently. “Don’t say that. You’re more than welcome.”

Isabella just sniffled and shook her head miserably. “It’s not appropriate. I’m your boss. You shouldn’t have to…”

“Just come in.” Clea reached out and touched Isabella on the shoulder, lightly. “Please?”

Isabella nodded, just as miserably, but allowed Clea to guide her inside and upstairs into her apartment. Once there, Clea immediately set to fussing over her boss. She got her seated comfortably on the couch, and then went to make tea for the both of them. When she returned, two steaming mugs in hand, she sat down next to Isabella. A worried frown was carving lines into her face.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Isabella repeated, although she seemed more settled than before. “I’m your boss. You put up with me enough at work.”

“Nonsense,” Clea told her firmly. “You put up with me just as much. We can call it even.”

That made Isabella smile, which made Clea smile.

“I just didn’t know where else to go, I suppose,” Isabella explained apologetically, sipping tentatively at her tea. “I guess I didn’t really want my friends to see me like this. So I just started driving around, and then I was in the neighborhood, and I remembered your address, and… well, you’re just so easy to talk to, at work. So I just…”

“I’m glad you did,” Clea said. “Really. It’s not an imposition. But you do have to tell me what’s going on. That’s the only condition.”

Isabella laughed, sniffled again, and nodded. “Well, it’s… it’s him. Again. Robert. My husband.”

A furious shiver raced down Clea’s spine. It was just as she’d suspected. Her husband was the only thing she’d ever seen get anything close to this far under Isabella’s skin.

“What did he do now?” Clea’s voice approached a growl.

“He didn’t…” Isabella started to say in instinctive defensiveness, before sagging again. “It’s not like that, exactly. We just had another fight.”

“I see,” Clea said tersely.

“I want kids,” Isabella said. Now that she was unburdening herself, it came out easy. She wasn’t looking at the expression on Clea’s face. “I want a family. I do. And I thought he wanted that too. I mean, we always said… but now I don’t know. Every time I try to talk to him about it, he gets so…”

Clea worried for all the unspoken things she could hear in Isabella’s voice. “Do you mean…”

“No,” Isabella told her. “Not like that. But he gets so closed off about it. So short-tempered. It’s like… it’s like me, and what I want, are just annoyances to him. You know?”

“Yeah.” Clea had to fight not to grind her teeth. “I know what you mean.”

“It’s at the point where I just don’t know what to do,” Isabella went on. “I just assumed we’d work on it, over time, together, but it’s starting to seem like it isn’t going to get better. I don’t know what to do anymore. Today, when I tried to talk to him, we ended up arguing. And when he started yelling at me, I just… I had to get out of there, Clea.”

“Get out of there?” Hope, tinged by guilt, started to swell in Clea’s bosom. “Like-”

“I mean, how am I supposed to go back to him now, after running out like that?”  The words kept flowing out of Isabella. She was starting to tear up again. “Sometimes I feel like I just can’t take it anymore.”

Clea paused for a long moment to gather her courage before saying: “Maybe… you don’t have to. Go back, I mean.”

Isabella looked up at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re better than him, Isabella!” Clea cried. “It’s obvious. He doesn’t deserve you. You’re amazing. You’re beautiful, you’re kind, you work hard and support yourself and others. If you want a family, you deserve one. You deserve someone who wants to have that with you.”

Her boss let out a sound that was half a laugh, half a sob. “That’s… a nice thought, Clea.”

“I’m serious!” Clea insisted fiercely. “I know it’s a cliche, but there are so many other people out there who could make you happy. You shouldn’t have to devote your life to someone who doesn’t even care enough to talk to you about what you want!”

“It’s not that easy.” Isabella seemed to tense up. “I can’t just walk out on him like that.”

“Why not?” Clea couldn’t bring herself to hold back now. “You don’t need him, Isabella. And you said so yourself - it seems like it isn’t going to get better. So what are you staying with him for?”

“I… I guess I don’t really have a good answer to that,” Isabella admitted. “But I do know one thing. I’m not a quitter. That’s how I’ve made it this far, right?”

“Isabella…” Clea slumped back against the couch cushion, defeated. She could hear the resolve in her boss’s voice, and she recognized all too well the kind of self-defeating logic Isabella was trapping herself in.

“Maybe it’s a little silly,” Isabella said, smiling sadly to herself. “But I really meant all those things I said at the altar. The promises. In sickness and in health, stuff like that. I… I know you mean well, Clea. I just think I need to see this through properly.”

There was nothing for Clea to do but look down and sigh. “I understand,” she said, even though she didn’t.

It took all the strength she had not to blurt out that it should have been her. That she was the one who could make Isabella happy that way. That she would be overjoyed to give Isabella the family her husband wouldn’t.

But of course, her words would have fallen on deaf ears. Isabella was straight, and that was that.

Before Clea knew it, the two of them had lapsed into uncomfortable silence. The only sound in the apartment was the occasional noise of each of them sipping at their tea. Clea knew she had to fix it.

“Hey,” she said abruptly, planting as bright a smile as she could muster on her face. “Well, if you want to stay here, just for tonight, you’d be more than welcome. I mean it. We can have a girls’ night. This couch folds out, and it’s actually not as bad as it-“

The sound of Isabella’s phone lighting up with a text message interrupted her.

Her boss snatched at her phone like a drowning woman at a life ring. The expression of manic, desperate hope on her face as she read the message tore Clea’s heart in two, and immeasurable dread washed over her. She knew exactly what was happening.

“Thank you,” Isabella said to Clea, already gathering herself. “That’s such a kind offer. B-but I need to go now, actually.” She gestured to her phone. “He’s worried about me, and he wants to talk.”

She was smiling as she said it, although Clea knew even Isabella didn’t really believe in whatever platitudes her husband was offering. She was just forcing herself to, because it was the only way she could keep going. Isabella’s smile was as fragile as glass, and Clea couldn’t bring herself to be the one that broke it.

“Sure.” Clea desperately hoped her own smile didn’t look too fake or forced. “Of course. I understand. And, anytime. I promise.”

She walked Isabella out of the building and the two of them said their goodbyes. But the whole time, Clea could only think about how disgustingly false this all was. She’d met Isabella’s husband two or three times, at various work-related social functions. She knew what a boor he was. She knew he wasn’t going to change. But, clearly, he was willing to keep stringing Isabella along with false hope and false kindnesses until it ground her into dust.

Dwelling on it left a pit of nausea in Clea’s stomach. It wasn’t right. She couldn’t let this happen. Not to Isabella.

And there was something she could do about it.

Once Clea got back up to her apartment, she reached for her phone and messaged Bruna.

I need the data.

***

The next morning, it took Clea quite some time to gather her courage before she could bring herself to head into Isabella’s office and bring her boss her morning coffee. Her anxiety was twofold. First, she was afraid that the atmosphere between them would be heavy with the weight of what had happened the day before; with Isabella’s unexpected vulnerability, and Clea’s unwelcome advice. And second, she was afraid that Isabella would see how nervous she was, and somehow sense what she was about to do.

Her first fear, at least, was dispelled from the first moment she knocked and pushed open the door. Isabella was already behind her desk, hard at work, but she rose to greet Clea with a broad grin.

“Clea! Good morning,” she gushed. “Oh, is that my latte? I seriously need it.”

“Of course,” Clea replied. “Same as ever.”

She placed the cup holder on Isabella’s desk, but she must have seemed a touch awkward because Isabella quickly reached out for her hand.

“Hey, um,” Isabella began, “I wanted to say, about yesterday… I’m sorry. Not for turning up - you made it clear that you were happy to help, and I appreciate that a lot. You’re amazing, honestly. The best secretary I could ever ask for.”

Clea’s cheeks started to burn and glow from the praise.

“Instead, I’m sorry for putting you square in the middle of my marital, uh, issues,” Isabella said. “I’m sure that was really, really awkward.”

“No,” Clea replied. “Um, actually, I’m glad you felt like you could confide in me. And… actually, I’m sorry too. I went way too far.”

“Nonsense,” Isabella told her firmly, smiling. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You were just trying to help. To be honest, the advice you gave is exactly what I’d probably give to any of my friends if they were in the same position.”

That acknowledgment brought forth another heavy sigh that piqued Clea’s curiosity.

“May… I ask how it went?” Clea ventured cautiously.

“Good.” Isabella nodded firmly. “At least, I think it was good. We talked, and maybe we didn’t fix our problems yet, but we’re going to keep talking. What more can you ask for, right?”

She was trying to sound brave and sure, and it almost worked. Almost. But Clea knew her boss better than most. Better than her own husband, she’d guess. She saw Isabella every single day at work, and she knew when she was merely putting a brave face on something.

Looking deeper, Clea could see the signs. Under her eyes, she was using a little too much makeup to try and conceal some dark circles. Her eyes themselves were still tinged red. Her hair was a little messier and less lustrous than usual; probably, she’d gone to bed without doing her routine. And, most tellingly of all, her shoulders were sagged slightly in exhaustion and defeat, the way they only usually were on a Friday evening after a truly hellish week.

She wasn’t OK. It hadn’t been good. And that meant there was no reason at all for Clea to hold back.

“Well,” Clea began, “I was thinking, last night. And I have something that I think might help you a little.”

Isabella’s head tilted dubiously.

“Not with the, uh, issues,” Clea added hastily. “Just with how it all feels. It’s something for self-care.”

“Oh!” Isabella brightened immediately. “Clea, that’s so thoughtful.”

Clea had to look away for a moment. “Don’t mention it.”

“So?” Isabella asked eagerly. “What is it? Don’t keep me in suspense!”

Clea swallowed anxiously. This was it.

“This might sound a little weird,” she said, “but I have these… experimental music videos. They’re meant to help you relax. Think of it like… like meditation. Making them is kind of a hobby of mine, actually. I know it’s a little silly, but some people have said they’re really helpful. So, I made one for you.”

She blushed as she said that. Even the half-truth was embarrassing. Isabella, though, looked overjoyed.

“You did?” she exclaimed. “Oh my god, Clea! Thank you, that’s so thoughtful.”

Clea blushed again. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Of course I do,” Isabella replied. “I’ve never really tried meditation before, but you’re certainly right to think that I could use something to help me relax a little. I’d love to give it a try.”

“Great!” Clea’s relief was immeasurable, and she found herself grinning from ear to ear. She whipped out her phone. “I’ll send you the video right away. You can just listen to it whenever you have a quiet moment. Just… make sure to grab some headphones. And, uh, make sure you won’t be disturbed.”

“Got it!” To Clea’s great surprise, Isabella pulled her into a brief but warm hug. “Clea, you deserve a raise. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. Things have been so hard lately. It’s truly…”

“Hey.” Clea squeezed Isabella tight as her boss trailed off. “I know. But, Isabella, I can promise you that things are going to get much, much better for you very soon. I can just feel it.”

Once the two of them pulled apart, Isabella’s eyes were glistening.

“Thank you,” she said. “The way you said that almost makes me believe it.”

Clea and Isabella shared a laugh before Isabella went to sit back down at her desk. Clea took that as her cue.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she said, retreating out of her boss’s office. “I’ve got your first call for the day lined up in about twenty minutes.”

With that, each of them returned to the humdrum of a normal workday - but the whole time, Clea was burning with anticipation as she thought about what was going to happen once Isabella finally sat down to listen to what Clea had sent her.

***

The sun was getting low in the sky by the time Isabella’s thoughts turned back to Clea’s gift. It had been a long, busy day of work, with no chance for her to take time out to meditate. But now, the office was quiet. Everyone had gone home - even Clea, who seemed to have been lingering for some reason. Isabella figured she was probably worried about her. Clea was such a sweet girl that way.

Isabella really couldn’t blame her for being worried. Not after the way she’d fled to Clea’s apartment the day before. Just thinking about it was still incredibly embarrassing. Clea had been very kind about it, but Isabella was sure her secretary didn’t genuinely want to spend her weekends dealing with her boss’s personal problems.

Hopefully, earlier, when she’d told Clea that things were looking up, she’d sounded convincing enough to put the younger woman at ease.

The truth was… more complicated.

And that, regrettably, was part of why Isabella was staying late at work. It was the perfect excuse to spend a little less time at home.

Isabella sighed to herself. Admitting that, even in her own head, felt humiliating. Where had it all gone so wrong? When she had gotten married, she’d assumed that would be her happy ending. Having kids seemed like the natural next step - they’d even talked about it, briefly, a few times. Now, Robert got mad every time she brought it up. It was like he’d never wanted a family at all.

Another sigh. These thoughts were doing nothing but making Isabella upset again. They certainly weren’t helping her to get any work done, and the only thing worse than staying at the office to work overtime was staying at the office to do nothing except cry.

Which was why Isabella’s thoughts had turned to that relaxation music video Clea had made for her.

What better time to try it than now?

Isabella took a moment to dim the lights and close the blinds on the windows before sitting back in her office chair and pulling up the video file Clea had sent to her. The first frame looked like nothing but an indistinct mess of colors, and Isabella found herself a little skeptical that a simple music video would be able to offer everything Clea had promised. But, determined to give it a proper try, she took a series of long, deep breaths after putting in her earbuds.

“OK, here goes,” she said to herself, and pressed ‘play’.

Immediately, the screen in front of her exploded into dizzying patterns of motion that made Isabella gasp. There was such depth, vividness and beauty to the colors. It immediately drew Isabella in and captivated her, making her eyes pull wide open in an instinctive bid to drink in everything that was on the screen of her computer.

It was so overwhelming, she barely even noticed the sound playing through her earbuds.

It was music, but unlike any other Isabella had heard, and she only considered it to be music at all because of the vaguely harmonic quality of all the strange beats and tones playing in her ears. All of them were low and resonant; she felt them through her whole body, and underneath them was something like whispering, perhaps a voice, perhaps not. Whatever it was, Isabella found herself unable to bring it into focus.

Instead, all of her attention was on the screen. The true pattern formed by the colors was starting to unfold. At first, she thought it was a spiral, pulling inward, but she soon realized it was pushing outward instead, kaleidoscopic, like an ever-unfurling flower, revealing more of itself with each passing moment. Every new color that appeared at the center of the screen was a revelation, but then the whole image would turn, revealing more of itself yet again, along dizzying lines of symmetry.

Isabella couldn’t look away. Not even when her eyes started to ache from staring. She just slumped back into her seat and started to drool. She had been instantly hypnotized.

The music was getting louder, but Isabella didn’t stir, not even when lyrics started to appear inside her head. Not lyrics; mantras. Simple, blunt statements of fact that Isabella couldn’t seem to bring herself to question. They came one after another, layering atop one another, hammering themselves into her head until they felt like her own thoughts, no matter how strange and foreign they were.

They were true. She knew that. She just knew.

You are a lesbian, Isabella.

It was a hard thing to accept. Isabella had never once thought of herself as anything other than straight. She was even married to a man. So… how hadn’t she noticed it sooner? It seemed so hard to square away, and yet she knew she had to.

You don’t like men.

Isabella stirred. That didn’t seem right. She liked her husband, didn’t she? That was why she’d married him. She loved him… or so she’d thought. But she was a lesbian, so that didn’t make sense. And since she was a lesbian, it seemed only natural that she didn’t like men. Isabella reflected on how she’d felt about her husband in recent days. It hadn’t been positive.

Of course. She was a lesbian, and she didn’t like men.

You cannot orgasm with men.

Isabella blushed faintly, but settled. As unfamiliar as that thought was, it seemed to fit. She was a lesbian, and she didn’t like men. It made perfect sense that she couldn’t orgasm with men.

Her recent experiences with her husband certainly bore that out, too.

You can only orgasm with women.

Each new mantra, each new truth, was getting easier and easier to accept. They intersected and interlinked, mutually reinforcing one another, forming a net wrapped tight around Isabella’s mind. 

Forming a new self. A new identity.

You are attracted to Clea.

Isabella gasped. Clea? She’d never once looked at her secretary in that light. It would be completely and totally unprofessional of her.

And yet…

Now that the thought had crossed her mind, she couldn’t un-think it. Clea was pretty. There was certainly no denying that. She had a lovely figure, and such cute freckles, and her long, gorgeous, red hair was so striking. Anyone would call her attractive.

But Isabella wasn’t just anyone. She was a lesbian. She could only cum with women. So, naturally, it meant more to her. It wasn’t just about acknowledging Clea’s attractiveness. It was about feeling it.

Isabella was definitely attracted to Clea.

You are very attracted to Clea.

The intensity of her newly-discovered attraction more than doubled with the repetition. Suddenly, just thinking about her secretary made Isabella squirm in her chair and sent a thrill-shock of pleasure between her legs. She couldn’t believe an attraction this potent had crept up on her, but maybe it wasn’t surprising, if her lesbianism had too.

It was all but unbearable. How was she going to handle seeing Clea tomorrow? How was she going to not blush and stammer every time she looked at her? The worst part was that Clea was a lesbian too. That made the temptation so much more real.

You can’t resist Clea.

All thoughts of self-control immediately dissolved. Isabella was being washed away by the strength of her new feelings. She couldn’t resist Clea. That thought seemed so sinful. She was Clea’s boss. A level of self-discipline and restraint was absolutely essential in the workplace, but Isabella was starting to doubt she was capable of it.

What did that say about her? What kind of woman was she, to be so hopelessly, irresistibly infatuated by a girl subordinate to her, a girl so much younger than her? It was a shameful thought, but the shame was swept up in her attraction and arousal.

A picture of the new Isabella was starting to emerge. She was a lesbian, she was sexually unsatisfied with her husband, and she was desperately obsessed with her own secretary, Clea Samaras.

The longer she stared at the hypnotic images blaring on her screen, the stronger and stronger Isabella’s new sense of identity became. And there was nothing she could do about it. With her eyes wide, all she could do was sit back, stare, and drool, as the mantra began to repeat over, and over, and over again.

You are a lesbian.

You don’t like men.

You cannot orgasm with men.

You can only orgasm with women.

You are attracted to Clea.

You can’t resist Clea.

You are a lesbian…

---

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

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[bookishtheaterlover7]

Random anon here, we’ll to those who are mad at Chris, let me ask you all, what should he have done?

It’s easy to say not gotten into This mess, duh, but he’s in it and deep in it.

It’s easy on the outside looking in to say just leave but umm like the marketing anon stated….it’s a business and one thing you don’t fuck with is people’s money especially those with more power and influence than you.

See I’m not making any excuses for Chris but I see people ragging on him but never stopping to realize we don’t have the full scope of this, huge missing pieces are left out and many are inserting their opinions and speculation as facts.

Be mad sure, but had Chris said no who’s to say this man wouldn’t have ended up blacklisted, lost everything he’s worked for etc. also he’s human and the pandemic scared at lot of people, even Scott stated Chris was worried about money during a podcast in 2020, Scott laughed but I never forgot that. Pr is easy money I’m sure. Things start out looking simple and then go left, again it’s easy to say well he would have said no, at least he’d had his integrity and morals, okay…..but if he ends up on a where are they now and homeless, severe drug addiction or mental issues due to losing everything then what.

My point is we don’t know shit and it’s easy to act like we do. Chris isn’t an idiot so I assume there’s more to this and he’s stuck because no way in hell things would be playing out the way they have nor would he be looking like a shell of his former self if he had power to end this or if this were real.

He’s human, be mad but don’t act like you haven’t ever fucked up in life either. I hate the high and mighty bullshit posts from people over shit you have no knowledge of.

Hollywood is a fucked up place and let me drop a bomb on you all, majority of the shit people sit online discussing is purposely created to keep people engaged from random headlines to bs from tv shows, news stories, movies, celeb drama, we’re all entangled in the web.

Example: Marketing is creating a story about two celebs fighting or dating and in reality the celebs never met but the rumor is now out there and they test to see the reactions.

Many feel Chris image is fake due to this mess but was it? I’m sure he would have revealed himself years before this mess if this was who he truly is.

Use your brains people, don’t fall for bullshit and don’t waste time fussing and cursing Chris everyday because you think this is some simple PR stunt he chose to do or that he’s actually with her.

Truth always come to light so don’t take anything personal and sit back and just watch until it all explodes. Lies can only last so long. 💅

An🫶n, you make an excellent point. And I wholeheartedly agree with you.

Chris may be a celebrity, but he's also a guy who needs to keep money flowing in order to live.

A big possibility, purely speculation, but the PR contract must have been tied to a lot of money. Money that post pandemic, he definitely needs. So, he's selling this, failing, but selling to get the check. And as shallow as that is, he definitely needs the money like any other grown up with bills.

So, let's cut Chris a little slack. And let's not wish him harm, because I heard from the grapevine that someone in the Fandom has wished him harm.

Not naming names. But that's fucked up, and you're no better than the people on the other side, whoever you are.

As for the fans that only want the best for Chris, let's ride the waves, hang in there, and continue to call 'em out! Or ignore certain tantrum-like antics. Whatever the occasion calls for 😌

[ughmyreality]

I love your fics a lot and i was wondering if you would be interested in making a young bloberta x millie spraybooth fic? like pre-help/before bloberta met clay, what if she had feelings for millie

Hey, first off, thank you for enjoying my fics. As a "funny" backstory I will go ahead and say that I had a somewhat similar experience to this fic lol. I was Millie and my friend was Bloberta in the situation (as far as the confession goes). And not to air out all my drama but can you believe she later told me after she "supposably" got over the crush that she could never date someone as mean as me?!?!? No wonder we're no longer friends. Anyway, back on topic, I present "I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship".

One would think that after a year and a half, her feelings would have subsided by now. But no, of course they haven't.

Silky black hair, luscious eyelashes, soft hands. What's more to want? While everyone around her seemingly bounces from fling to fling, Bloberta was the one falling behind. She wouldn't call it ‘love’... but does she really know what love is?

“Ugh, Bloberta can you please try paying attention for once? And… don’t tell me you’ve been drinking again! I thought you told my parents you’d stop! If they find out they’ll never let me see you again.”

That was their ever present issue. Well, there were two things wrong with this situation. Number 1, parents. Bloberta hadn’t been allowed to step foot in this house in over a year. All thanks to the paranoia of parents. ‘You’re indoctrinating our child!’ ‘You’re a bad influence’. All sorts of bullshit. Just any excuse to get her away. But things are different now. After a convincing plea and promise to change, they reluctantly allowed her back. Number 2, the person sitting across from her, the object of her affections, was not a boy, not even a man. No, it was a girl, who just so happens to be her childhood friend, who definitely has absolutely no returned feelings for her. What a life.

“I’m sorry Millie, I just got distracted.”

“Distracted? Bloberta no wonder you’re failing biology! I’m trying to help you so the least you could do is pretend to pay attention.”

“I will! Now what was that about the powerhouse of the cell?”

“Bloberta Hymentact!” the teacher calls.

This was it! She was going to get her paper back and get an A for once in her life!

She practically snatches the paper up and scans it for the big red ink.

…42%

42%!

Millie walks to the side of her and wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“How’d you do Bloberta?”

She slams the paper down on the desk. What’s the point of the countless hours of studying if nothing was going to change. She still can’t manage to get her grades up no matter how hard she tries. Bloberta can’t be bothered to try anymore.

“Awful. I’m just so over this Millie. I think we should just accept that you get good grades and I simply tag along.”

Millie shakes her head. Forever optimistic.

“Don’t say that. This was only the first test. You’ll do better next time.”

‘You’ll do better next time. Yeah right.’

Commotion starts as the bell rings. Bloberta shoves her useless test in her bag and barges out the door. She was so ready for this miserable day to be over with.

“Hey, Bloberta!”

Not this. She holds back the urge to roll her eyes. Bloberta doesn’t have many friends, she was never popular so she tries her hardest to keep the few that she does have. Unfortunately one of these said ‘friends’ was Dolores Stoopdown, the know it all.

“Hi, Dolores.”

The girl takes that as her sign to walk even closer to Bloberta. An overly eager expression washes over her and Bloberta knows that she's up to no good.

“Well, I saw that you didn’t do too well on your biology test and I-”

“How would you know what I got on my test?”

“Oh, I just took a glance at it while you were talking to Millie but nevermind that. I wanted to let you know that I’m starting up a tutoring program! I’ll be charging 18 dollars an hour and I really think you would benefit from my help.”

“18 dollars an hour? Dolores, I could just pay someone to cheat for me for that price! Besides, I don’t need your help.”

“Bloberta, I think you should reconsider. I’ve already managed to help Abby, you know from the cheer team. And she can tell you that I truly know what I’m talking about!”

“Don’t you have another class to go to? Why are you still following me?”

“I’ve got plenty of time and even if I am late, I’m sure my teacher will understand.”

“Get to class Stoopdown.”

“Bloberta you NEED to listen to me. Clearly Millie isn’t doing a good job teaching you. Who better to turn to than an inspiring teacher? I mean I don’t want to call you dumb but it would be dumb not accept my offer.”

“Dolores, that’s your problem, why all your boyfriends break up with you and not the other way around! You think you know every damn thing! Just because you want to what? Become a teacher? Get real! If you were any sort of godly woman like you say you are you’d understand that your job is that of the home.”

“You talk a lot of shit for someone with so many secrets to hide.”

“What secrets could you possibly know about me?”

“You’re still drinking, you come to class hungover more often than not, you tried to trick your sister into losing her voice, you took your Dad’s car for a joyride last prom. Need I go on?”

“I don’t care Dolores. There’s nothing you’ve said that wasn’t already obvious to everyone anyway.”

“Fine! What about your not-so-secret secret crush on Millie? Huh? Nothing to say now bitch?”

“...What?”

“Come on, Bloberta. Everyone around town can see your heads over heels for her. You couldn’t have possibly thought that a little bit of drinking was what turned Millie’s parents against you. No, it was because they didn’t want some delinquent girl turning their daughter gay.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? I was right about everything else. You want to pick fights with me, Bloberta, well I’ll tell you this, I’m always in the know. An informant of sorts and I know just as well as you that Millie is your only ‘true’ friend. How do you think she’d react if she found out?”

“You wouldn’t dare te-”

The loud ring of the bell cuts her off before she could finish. So caught up in the heat of the moment she didn’t  realize how much time was passing. Her eyes look throughout the hall and there was no one else there. She hadn’t even noticed the fading quietness.

“Look, Dolo-”

But she wasn’t there. She had vanished into thin air like the witch that she is. There was only one thing she could have left to do in such a hurry and Bloberta had to make sure she did it first.

Her hand bangs on the door of an unsuspecting classroom, World history 402. When the door finally opens the unnamed teacher scowls but Bloberta couldn’t care less. All her eyes were focused on was Millie. She had made it on time!

“Um… Sir, I need to speak to Millie in the hallway for a second.” Bloberta wastes no time and grabs Millie's arm dragging her out before the teacher could respond.

“What’s the deal Bloberta?”

“Millie, I need to tell you something and I’d understand if you hate me after I tell you. It’s just- I didn’t want it to turn out this way. Me and Dolores got into an argument and I know that we’re both God fearing people but som-”

“Bloberta, just breathe. I’m sure nothing you could say could be that bad. What’s worse than you stealing my dads alcohol and then claiming it was a burglar? I still forgave you for that and I can forgive you for this.”

“I… I like you Millie. You are such an amazing person inside and out. Not a lot of people care for me but you take time out of your day to hang around me even when I’m not so pleasant to be around. And I am so sorry.”

Millie quirks an eyebrow. 

“Sorry? Obviously, we're friends.”

“No Mil. Like as in how a girl is supposed to like a boy.”

“Oh, well-”

“BUT! I’m over it now, that was from years ago! Ha! So… don’t worry about it.”

“Great! I didn’t know how to react, you know we’ve been friends for so long. Besides, I’ve got a new boyfriend, Norm! We just made it official this morning!”

…How wonderful

[buckysmith]

You always meet twice in life

Recom Miles Quaritch × fem. Human. reader (Story not one shot)

„You always meet twice in life" but how could you meet someone who was already dead?

Well, let's see...

Part 1

.

.

.

Sometimes life doesn't play out the way you want.

Sometimes you have everything one day and nothing the next.

Life doesn't ask how you are, if you like it or how you want it, life tests you, life tests you every single day until the day you die….

And sometimes something so big comes from one decision....

Your gaze settles on the sleeping baby in your arms, his eyes are closed and you can still see this lightly glistening of his tears on his cheeks.

You hug the baby in your arms a bit tighter while you close your eyes.

You can dully hear the screams and arguments from the next room.

You can't really hear what it's about, but you can guess. It is probably about yourself and the baby in my arms, both of you are too young to be sent off from pandora, but already old enough to be blamed for the sins of your species….

....

A warm hand rests on your cheek as you look up "I know Miles will be safe with you (y/n), promise me that no matter what happens to me you will take care of him, promise me that even if I don't come back he will be safe, that he won't have to pay for the actions of his father or his mother. Promise me that you will never leave him alone, please, promise me that you will love him like a mother loves her child" You look into the brown eyes of Paz, Miles' mother, who is standing in front of you with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is brittle, rough and quiet.

In the background the sirens can already be heard, signaling that in a few minutes the battleships will fly out to destroy the holiest of all Na'vi.

"I promise"

Her eyes soften for a breath of a moment before she pulls you to her, kissing your forehead only to press a kiss Miles' forehead as well.

"I love you my son.... I hope we see each other again....."

Her voice still echoes in your mind and the image of her moving away from you, turning to you and miles one last time before disappearing into the crowd of soldiers plays over and over in your mind.

You knew that she would not come back, you knew that she had died in battle, as had your parents and many others, be it humans or Na’vi.

You can feel your heart tighten painfully, while your stomach drops and your eyes start to burn.

You can't show any weakness now, you can't let anyone see how scared you are, how painful the loss of your parents is, the loss of the people you thought were friends.

You have to be strong for the baby, you have to be strong for miles.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the door of the room you’re in opens. You open your eyes, only to look at the person who has entered the room. You know him, or better you know his face. He is one of the scientists who work- no, who worked with your mother.

His eyes are filled with many emotions, just like yours are.

His gaze turns to you before he kneels in front of you and almost nervously rubs his hands together.

"We can't send you away from here, just like we can't send the little man y‘know..." his gaze breaks from your eyes to look at Miles after more attempts to get you to speak have failed.

"His mother trusted you with him before she left, didn't she?" You nod as he sighs and sits himself down on the floor in front of you. He takes off his glasses, puts them in his coat pocket, before looking in your eyes again. "I know you don't want to talk to me, you're scared and maybe you don't quite understand what's happening right now but I want to tell you that you're safe, both of you are safe. No one is going to hurt you." His voice is calm while he keeps eye contact to make you believe he's not lying.

"You don't have to talk to me either if you don't want to, I just want you to listen to me. " He averts his eyes from you for a moment to get something out of his pocket. "We have found two families who would take you both in, separately, they are also scientists and have worked closely with your mother we think they’re gre -."

"I'm not going to separate from Miles, I'm not going to any people either, I'm old enough to take care of myself and Miles." You interrupt him almost harshly and hug Miles a little closer. "I understand that you-." He starts to speak, but you interrupt him again before standing up, lightly holding Miles' ears shut, giving the Scientists a dirty look from above. "His mother has given me the task to take care of him like a mother, I will keep my promise to her. I know I'm very young, I know you think I'm a stupid child who doesn't understand the situation I’m- we’re in, but I understand it well enough!" You feel the lump in your throat slowly dissolve while you keep eye contact with him. "I lost my family just like he has, I don’t want to play family with someone so mercifully sacrificing to take me or Miles in, that's pathetic and I don't want that. I also made a promise to his mother to take her place in case she died, and we both know she did.... I'm not asking for much, I just want to keep my promise...I'm begging you, give me a chance to prove myself. Please give me one chance." His gaze softens before he opens his mouth and ......

Like I said, a single decision can change a lot in your life. Sometimes that decision ends in defeat, but sometimes it opens a door to a new horizon.

Sometimes you have nothing one day and everything the next.

[immoralimmortals]

Akatsuki Member Songs and Headcanons Part 2

I told you I could do this post over again with new songs! Some of the associations are more based on headcanon than others. The songs are linked in the headers. Hope you enjoy!

Hidan: BlackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA by Will Wood

This song...is definitely about someone who cannot die. Whats more: it is also definitely someone who has a strange relationship with pain and suffering. Hidan in canon so very clearly dislikes being in pain if he is not in his ritual form. Simultaneously, he says he'd love if someone managed to kill him. (I know he may be sarcastic but imagine the possibilities if he's not!) He's a gratuitous man of contradictions and confidence, and I think this song carries it well. Throughout are mentioned symbols of health and longevity in grotesque situations. You KNOW this man's body is fucked up, both by his hand and others. I want to cut him open and study him like an anatomical doll. The whole "interview" in the middle is me eventually grabbing him by the collar and going what the hell is fucking wrong with you! How can a severed head breathe and talk!

I've also heard that WW wrote this as a test to himself to get as many words in a normal length song as possible. It suits how much Hidan fucking talks. I also think it's a nice nod to the fact that he quite obviously introspects and thinks *a lot* despite being portrayed as headstrong and stupid.

Notable lyrics:

And through flight-or-fight revelation shame the Black Box Warrior He skipped this town and headed straight down history

His ego a mosquito, evil incarnate good incognito

For what? For what? For what it's worth If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it's worth There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

He wondered if Christ Consciousness would charge a cancellation fee Auf wiedersehn, au revoir, he gripped his wits right by their ends

A bloody knife to split your infrastructure, wine to rev your motor function Coital machinations of the dead Well, you mainline your animus, karate chop your abacus And learn to be an animal instead

You've lost your mind and almost lost your life before So you'll be fine

Sasori: Thumbnail by Louie Zong and Brian David Gilbert

Something I've mulled over a long time is how the contradiction of how a man who prefers things to be long-lasting can also be so impatient. My interpretation so far is that this implies some level of anxiety; he wants things to last if they are comfortable for him to exist. That's why he doesn't mind his fight with Kankuro taking longer, despite just bashing Deidara for playing around. I think l, in perhaps the kindest way I can, that he is both shallow and more sensitive than he'll ever admit.

This is a song about wanting interactions condensed. If you tell me something bad, get it over with. But also, I don't know how to give you more than what I have. He's insecure about what he emotionally brings to the table, im sure. I figure that's a big reason he's destroying his humanity down to the core.

Notable lyrics:

Keep it quick, say it brief If it's fast, it will be a relief Short on time, that's a gift Count your seconds, and they'll catch the drift

Don't like what's revealed here When your depth of field's near, it's hard to come close Chip stones from the boulder Suddenly, my vulnerability shows Oh, you can crop and trim, 'till all that's left Is the essence of a presence that is feeling bereft Avant-garde, just the gist of a tale That is less of an image, and more of a thumbnail

How novel is a novel that can fit on one sheet It seems that I'm destined to fail To compress myself to the size of a thumbnail

Itachi: Blood on My Name by The Brothers Bright

Need I say more? Lots of individual lines that match up with his circumstances, especially his imminent death and the bodies he unfortunately racked up. And...of course...the Uchiha name is bloody as hell. His fate is inevitable, it is in stone and he is dragging his corpse to the finish line.

Notable lyrics:

When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you With the hounds of hell comin' after you I've got blood And I've got blood on my name

When the fires, when the fires are consuming you And your sacred stars won't be guiding you

Can't you see I'm sorry? I will make it worth your while Made of dead man's money You can see it in my smile Oh, Lazarus, how did your debts get paid? Oh, Lazarus, were you so afraid?

It won't be long, 'til I'm dead and gone Watch the fires rise, burn through my skin Down to the bone, scorchin' my soul

Konan: Saturn by Sleeping at Last

As tragic as life is, Konan is defined by her hope. This song references how others have come around time after time to help her see the light. This is a song that gets me emotional. It is slow, lingering, and forces you to drink it all in, every star and sorrow alike.

Notable lyrics: its literally the whole song so here's one verse

You taught me the courage of stars before you left How light carries on endlessly, even after death With shortness of breath You explained the infinite And how rare and beautiful it is to even exist

Deidara: Boss by The Correspondents

This man HATES his fucking job! He was just out there, vibing, and was forced to be an Akatsuki and remains more or less to exact revenge on an idea (that the Sharingan is perfect art). Petty bitch! But he kind of has a point, at least with the being forced to be Akatsuki part.

Notable lyrics:

I would love for this to not be an issue I would love to just laugh in your face But I'm finding it hard to dismiss you When you're the one running the place

We didn't ask for you to lead us We didn't want you to be boss You have done nothing but deceive us And it exacerbates our goals

Kakuzu: Six Feet by Patent Pending

This song is nearly perfect for my headcanons about him. The world is harsh, you must do as you must. He takes no joy in it. His ability to understand you or not does not affect your situation or relationship as shibobi. It is going to be what it is regardless. We are going to work until we die.

Notable lyrics:

When you hear that whistle blow, only the weakest go home Like their pain don't put food on their plate

You're keeping up, I see Well, it's a big world and it's only getting bigger And if you wanna be the best then you've gotta beat the best

Ain't nobody coming when you make the call 'Cause every man gunnin' for the first to fall Fill that bucket 'til the well runs dry It's left, right, left, 'til the day you die

Zetsu: Stalker's Tango by Autoheart

GREAT song if you want one for a ship with him. Describes over the course of its verses the increasing invasiveness and intensity of a stalker's relationship with the listener. References to being able to appear anywhere AND shape-shifting? Bonus! Also has a very calm yet arrogant, self assured air about the singer. I think it's great for him. I can imagine myself tied up in a chair while he explains himself to me with this song.

Notable lyrics:

I know, I know, I know this situation's strange It takes a little getting, a little getting used to

I know, I know, I know I'm always in your place But don't you see, my dear? I am your Doppelgänger I have your face

It's not that complicated, no matter what they say You'll never meet another me It's not that difficult to get your head around You'll never meet another me You'll never-never-never-ever-ever meet another me

Pain: Godhunter by Aviators

Hunting tailed beasts while claiming to be a god himself? A song where perhaps the godhunter becomes so powerful shes a God to be hunted???? YES!

...okay that last bit is largely my own very indulgent interpretation of this song. But I LOVE how it would suit him, being both the god and the godhunter in the plot of the story.

Notable lyrics: its literally the whole thing. Here's some cherry picked lines.

When you're holding on to majesty You'd fear the hunt, a travesty That balance may return

If you're something more than flesh, ascended And you've taken on the rest To end it then she'll find you in a dream, tormented Godhunter's gonna hunt you down

Tobi/Obito: The End of the Rope by They Might Be Giants

Who doesn't love a good villain song? You could almost think it's from a musical, how dramatic and explanatory it is. Very good representation of the heel turns this man makes to the protagonists throughout his character arc.

Notable lyrics: its the whole song. Here's the first verse.

How thoughtless of me How dumb can you be? Hopeless, wasn't that What you called me? And in fact It was even more true than you knew

Kisame: Delirium Tremendous by Felix Hagan & the Family

Kisame's a bit of what the kids would call, uh…blackpilled? He enjoys himself, yeah definitely, but he also knows he's a special kind of traitor, the lowest of the low. In my book, that makes him a little less low than some other villains in the series, but he would not agree.

To me, this song is a couple things. Most obviously, delirium tremens after drinking. Next overtly, it's about not being able to fit in. More specifically, it's about not being able to fit in among misfits who are defined by their abnormality, their abhorrent nature to regular society. He is a very alienated man, he wants the good, but he has accepted he is not and that the world as it is will never be that way unless someone else (Tobi/Madara, in his view) takes it by the reigns and changes everything about how it works. He yearns for something he does not feel he has earned or deserves. It captures a lot of vibes and emotions I associate with Kisame all at once: lonliness, sensation, aggressiveness, fighting, longing. AND it's a fucking bop!

Notable lyrics:

What would make you get so battered That your bones betray you, start to shatter And you can’t relate to all the happy little night-time boys and girls

Save breath, crave death Can’t be much worse And I'm sick, sigh, can’t abide This twitching track from wet to dry I’m too old to cry, too young to die Too rabid for the pack So I’ll spit, try to hold it in Search for a sign of life within And I’ll fake a grin, until my skin Is starting to crack

So just stay cool and break through this sick delirium state I got wasted, now I’m tasting the cruel justice of fate

[creative-anchorage]

Remember the mobility challenge that went viral last year? It goes like this. You’re standing up; you can’t use your hands, so start by crossing your arms across your body. Cross one leg in front of the other. Drop down to sit cross-legged on the floor. From here, get on your knees with your toes behind you. Now pop backwards into a deep squat, the one where your butt is against your heels. Now stand up.

It’s hard, right? Most people can’t do it. And yet you can’t afford to ignore this stuff. Poor mobility can greatly affect your quality of life, making everything from washing yourself to cleaning your home difficult or painful. And, although it may not kill you, it is certainly correlated with early death.

From 2002 to 2011, Brazilian researchers tracked 2,000 people aged 51 to 80 who had taken part in a test requiring them to sit on the floor from standing, then get back up, all without using their hands, knees or arms. Over the following nine years, those who failed this “sitting-rising test”, whatever their age, were five to six times more likely to die earlier.

Mobility is deadly serious, then, especially as you age. But – newsflash, 25-year-olds – the best way to keep it is never to lose it. ... At first, I couldn’t do last year’s big challenge. Then, just messing about on my own, I could do it after a fashion [...] To do this, or the sitting-rising test, gracefully, you need to be methodical. Break it down and work on each element. Once you can do the challenge, carry on doing it.

Sit cross-legged

Sit, slouching against a wall, with your feet out straight. Place one foot on your opposite thigh. Bend the other leg and try to sit up as straight as you can against the wall. Then repeat on the other side. You are trying to close the gap between your lower back and the wall, which took me a week (doing the exercise for two minutes a day). It is an incredible stretch and will improve the quality of your cross-legged sit – your back will be straighter, and your legs crossed tighter – but while you’re there, you might notice that, with your legs straight in front of you, your back isn’t straight but is slouching inwards, the curse of working at a desk.

So put a chair within arm’s reach and stand against the wall, touching it with every bit of your legs, down to your heels. Drag the chair in front of you and place your hands on it. That’s exactly the same straight-backed position as you want when you’re on the floor, only you’re relaxing down to find your perfect alignment, rather than trying to pull yourself up into it. You extend it over time by moving your legs further apart. This is another two-minute job, and I could sit straighter after a fortnight.

Do a wall sit

Now you need to work on balance, for which the best starter exercise is standing on one leg with your eyes closed for 60 seconds. [...]

The other obstacle will be lack of strength in your glutes, and for this you can do a wall sit – as it sounds, sitting with your back touching a wall, but your bum floating as if on an invisible chair. Again, you can scale up in 15-second increments how long you hold it. Canadian Peter Attia, a doctor and author of Outlive: the Science and Art of Longevity, does the air sit – same exercise, without the wall, with your arms stretched out at shoulder height directly in front of you – for two minutes, which is insanely difficult; but try it for 10 seconds and, God willing, after 17 days you might get to 15 seconds.

Touch your toes

Everyone thinks they can still do it, but that’s probably because it’s a long time since they tried. This will take a month, but only three minutes a day. In the first week, do a leg elevated hinge – put your heel in front of you on a low chair and hinge towards it, with a straight back, for 30 seconds on each leg, three times. Week two, a hip hinge: standing with straight legs, arch your lower back and try to bend at the waist so you’re at a 90-degree angle (but don’t force it: just go as low as you can with your back still arched and not bending your knees) – for three sets of 10 bends. The third week, the same thing, only with a split stance, your weight on the front, straight leg – three sets of eight on each leg. Finally, a week of moving from a squat position to one with straight legs, bending at the waist so your head is level with your knees.

Hang for one minute

I spent ages trying to find a tall enough door and not hurt myself, before I remembered that there are monkey bars in every park. This is good for grip strength, obviously, as well as upper body strength overall, but the best thing is that you can’t mess it up. You have your two arms, and you have gravity, and there’s absolutely no way for these things to interact except the right way. On the downside, it’s pretty hard, and is one of the 11 tests Attia uses on patients as part of the Strength Metrics assessment (the goal is a minute and a half for a 40-year-old woman, two minutes for a 40-year-old man). But you can work up to that in increments as pathetic as you like – five seconds, even.

Sit properly in a chair (and other ways to behave at a desk)

[...] at your desk, “try to sit on your legs and not your arse,” Frampton advises. “That way, your back will be flat, your torso will be lifted and your shoulders will fall backwards.”

A simple stretch you can do while still at your desk is to put your arms out behind you, clasping your hands with your palms facing outwards. If you’re really tight in the shoulders, you can start with a bend in the elbows. Hold it for a minute. Something I forgot to mention earlier: you never want to be in pain – it’s not cardio.

Working at a desk, your head is pulled magnetically towards your screen, until you have a curved neck, which, besides anything else, if you carry it over into your walking style, is very ageing. Get into a wall sit, with your pelvis tucked in so your entire back is in contact with the wall; touch your head against it too, and move your chin to point to the ceiling, then draw it back in to your chest. If you’re old enough, you can actually hear your neck making a gristly noise as it straightens. Or maybe that’s just me. I hope not.

On public transport, stand without holding on to anything

You’ll have to brace your core just to keep your balance, and subtly move against the jerky rhythm of the train or bus, but there’s something relaxing about the low brain-stakes concentration. I didn’t get this from an expert; I made it up. It really annoys my kids.

Frampton thinks of the body as “one piece of tissue. It makes sense from a learning perspective to divide it into your abs, your triceps, your chest, your glutes. But then when you’re doing the mobility movements that I’m describing, it almost becomes unhelpful to silo it like that.” Ten minutes a day is enough, but you can never stop, I’m afraid. “You could equally say: ‘When do my teeth just become clean – when can I stop all this brushing?’” Frampton says. “You need to think of this as something you’ll be doing for as long as you’re alive.”

[usedpidemo]

so i went to my first ever concert and...(storytime!)

Generally speaking, I don't like the concept of concerts. For the longest time, I've never had any interest in attending one. I've been disillusioned by the idea of them as a whole, with no disrespect to people who attend them. Even before the global pandemic that shut down live events, ironically, despite being on my headphones/speakers 90% of the time, I don't like crowds and extremely loud audiences. It also doesn't help that many live artists nowadays are just not good stage performers or lipsync or in some cases, aren't as pleasing to hear as the studio mix that I could easily play on Spotify. My mantra, which has always been my mother's as well, was "Just listen to the CD." This also explains why I don't really buy CDs anymore and stick to streaming instead.

It's now 2023, and as the old adage goes, things change. I've become a K-pop fan, live events are back, and there's this push to have me leave my house a lot more than I should. I'm no recluse like Bruce Wayne, but I certainly don't like going out when I could be relaxing and playing video games in my spare time even as an adult. Growing up made me realize that there's plenty of things that I should do, even at least once. I'm nowhere close to dying—I think so at least—but I definitely felt the need add some spice into my life and have some fresh memories to keep now that the pandemic's over.

Anyway—I've never been to a concert, and my older sister's only concert experience was seeing Fall Out Boy when she was in her teens that she desperately begged mom to see, and she was all the way up into the nosebleeds. Now obviously I can't go and see IZ*ONE anymore (sadblob) and every big act carries extremely large demand for them. My sister failed to secure Blackpink tickets for their tour even with the membership presale, and the experience was so frustrating and damning that she stopped listening to the group for a while. There's so many things that can go wrong even as early as ticket sales, so I understood that any concert I wanted to go to should be absolutely worth it.

It was during our vacation back in February when IVE announced that they would be bringing their fan concert around Asia, with June as the set date. I can remember seeing it trend on Twitter while waiting in the car; the hype was fucking real. I knew I had to be there by any means necessary. The campaign began as soon as we got back to our hotel. They said yes.

One thing I want to say is: fuck online ticketing. It sucks, big time. Anything that can go wrong, can and will go wrong. Yet some part of me was so uncertain and wanted to test the murky waters again. I got in touch with a third party way before they announced the ticket selling date, and I was so fixated on the success rate of the seller, against the advice of my family. It wasn't until two days before ticket selling that I was given a proper talk, saying that it could be a potential scam and that I should camp out the night before to get the best chances. Ultimately, I gave in and settled at a hotel close to a hotel without many fans. They ended up being right. I ended up first in line and got the best package for a little over $200. It was so difficult to keep my composure the moment I got the tickets all the way till I got home.

Fast forward to a little over a month. The family also booked me a nice hotel close to the venue days before the show so we wouldn't have to face insufferable traffic. I couldn't sleep the night before the show—not because I was excited and all, but I was genuinely feeling restless. It ultimately didn't matter as my mood and overall energy never diminished once I woke up 2.5 hours after finally sleeping.

You just know it's gonna be a good day when the first sign is making new friends out of nowhere. At breakfast, I befriended two Japanese tourists for some reason. My smile was wider than it normally was. It's so weird greeting people with amped up optimism that at times, it felt like main character energy, which was typically uncharacteristic of me. Mind you, I only had 2.5 hours of sleep.

An hour later, venue time—at least close to it. The concert organizers and local fanclubs held a fanhub that was already filling up the floor with a line that stretched around in a loop. So I bailed and went to the cafe across the street from where the actual concert would happen to get free shit. Saved myself almost $25 dollars from buying the I'VE IVE album because of a cupsleeve event being organized by a remnant of WIZ*ONEs. A big W if you ask me.

I even met up with some of my readers too! Cray and Nomad, if you're reading this, it was great finally meeting you. It was awesome to fanboy and connect with guys I've been talking to online for the past two years in person.

Afterward, we went inside an hour before show start, and people were already screaming like they showed up and it was just staff bringing out towels and water bottles. Then the lights went out and holy shit, everyone lost their shit. It wasn't a sold-out show but the audience's energy made it feel otherwise. They were singing instead of following fan-chants.

It should surprise no one that everyone killed it. Yujin is the 4th gen ace and no one can tell me any different. Wonyoung was absolutely fantastic in crowd control and drawing the audience in and lived up to the center title. They added both title tracks from I'VE IVE and changed up two of the cover songs for the unit stages, otherwise the set remains mostly similar to the ones in Korea and Japan, the only difference being new outfits and alternate color ones.

I'm gonna dedicate this section specifically for Liz. Consider me bias wrecked. She was not only an elite vocalist but she performed like the rent was due, holy shit. Blue Blood (my favorite stage of the night) in particular really gripped me and never let go. I was genuinely shook at how terrific she showed out in the performances. If anything, she's the 2nd best performer of the group after watching the footage.

There was an emotional moment at the end as the show was winding down. The members were lined up for the group photo when a fan video played and half of the members cried. Leeseo, Rei, and Yujin all cried and it was a wholesome scene. Rei mentioned how this was one of their first performances as a full group following her health hiatus and she was moved by the overwhelming support of the fans. Wonyoung also promised they would return—hopefully later than sooner I'm not loaded at the moment—which invalidates the stupid argument international Dives were having on Twitter. The girls felt their support, cried their heart out, and that's all you need to know.

After the event, there was a hi-bye session for all VIP ticket holders. They sent everyone else out, so it started 20 minutes after the actual ending. They kept reminding us that we weren't allowed to record or take photos of the event, but apparently someone at Starship was filming the whole thing? So there's a possibility that I might end up on YouTube, heh. Since we were on the left side of the stage, we were among the last to go up and meet them.

Holy fuck dude. I wasn't nervous while watching everyone else go up and meet IVE, but once the staff told us to form a single line and we slowly made our way around the stage, my heart began to go buckwild. You just don't know what to say or do when that moment comes—like how do I make this memorable or at the very least, not cringe? One thing I do know was that we all agreed, as a section, to walk past them as slow as humanly possible; five seconds was not enough. I was so unsure of what to do as I slowly walked up the steps to the point I was practically mouthing 'Jesus take the wheel' or else I'd melt into a puddle, lose my shit, do something stupid, or maybe all of the above.

Jesus Christ. They looked so fucking flawless. You honestly couldn't tell they were sweaty and exhausted after performing for 2.5 hours.

From left to right, it was Rei, Gaeul, Wonyoung, Yujin, Leeseo, and Liz. Liz was the first member I met, and she completed my half-heart gesture. From there, my brain blanked for a good three seconds. My mouth was still uttering 'Kamsahamnida' but that scene seemed to stick long past that moment. I couldn't register Leeseo, Yujin, and Wonyoung's reactions—I knew they were smiling and waving—but then my brain suddenly went back up as I met Gaeul and Rei's eyes right as we made our way out. I went to the bathroom and uttered a relieved, awestruck 'Holy shit.'

God. I don't know if I will ever move on from such an experience. I'm still thinking about the interaction as I write this little thought diary, and my mind keeps replaying the interactions with Liz, Gaeul, and Rei. All of them had lovely smiles and were so happy even though they clearly were gassed out, and I was in utter shock trying to comprehend what had happened. Famous streamer IShowSpeed met his hero Ronaldo the same day as the concert and if you've seen his video, he practically plays out all the emotions I wanted to feel after meeting them. I've not played any K-pop after the concert aside from English versions of songs and most certainly I've avoided IVE songs aside from rewatching my concert fancams because I'll just melt into a giddy pile of goo watching it, telling myself 'I was there.'

My sister only listens to Blackpink. She agreed to take me to the venue provided I buy her tickets, so this was a consolation or redemption of sorts after failing to secure tickets for the Born Pink tour. She's a Dive now. She couldn't stop raving over Wonyoung's beauty but she eventually found all the members to be cute and beautiful. It feels great to finally share a sweet moment with my sister despite the turbulent relationship we have.

In an ideal world, I'll be watching Le sserafim and the other IZ*ONE members when they perform/arrive here. Of course, there's many obstacles in the way, and I'm not loaded with disposable income. Seriously, these tickets were more expensive than a veteran group and they're supposed to be rookies! But the entire experience—the energy, the performances, and the ending—made every coin I spent worth it. If this ends up becoming the only concert I attend in my entire life moving forward, I'm glad it was an unforgettable one.

Gaeul, Yujin, Rei, Wonyoung, Liz, and Leeseo, thank you for making my year and giving me a core memory I can fondly look back on. I fucking love you guys.

[vodika-vibes]

Dust & Ashanii having to sit and do math hw 😂

Fun fact: Math was always my worst subject—and I hated it more because my parents always signed me up for extracurricular math classes. Maybe Cody should threaten to sign them up for math class next time they be mischievous little gremlins 🤭

Mm. Math. I fell behind in elementary school, when I was like 7, and I stayed fallen behind until I was, like, 11 and was failing math. I'm still so bad at it. I don't know my times tables at all. Multiplying big numbers is easier than multiplying small numbers.

And then, of course, I strongly suspect that I have dyscalculia. One of the biggest signs is a hard time with pattern recognition (i always had to guess when pattern questions were on math tests), difficulty with word problems (I can't turn words into numbers. I just can't.) Reading an analogue clock (I can, but it's not instantly. It takes me about 15 seconds) and differentiating left and right (my husband thinks it's funny, but I have to use my hand to determine which way is left, it's why gps is a life saver.)

ANYWAY

"So, you think that this planet is a good one?" Master Windu asks over the holo as his daze darts between Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and then back again. "I do." Ahsoka agrees, "The force feels weird here in some places, but I think that might actually help us hide." Mace nods slowly, "And your padawan, what does she think?" "She's fine." Ahsoka replies absently. Blue glances at his General, and then clears his throat, drawing the attention of the council, "And by that, she means that the planet can be confusing to young Force Users. Ashanii got lost and wasn't able to use the force to find her way back." "That's concerning-" Mace murmurs, "And she's alright?" "She is now. We pulled a cadet around the same age out here, they're bonding. Hopefully it'll keep her out of trouble while she adjusts." Blue folds his arms, "Other than that, it is a good planet, we just need to mesh the kids together." "How do you mean, Captain?" General Koon asks. "Look, I get that you force types are used to using the Force for every little thing. But it makes you utterly incapable of surviving when you can't use it. Our Cadets can help the kids adapt until they adapt to the planet." "Hm...I think it's a good idea." Depa muses thoughtfully as she taps her lower lip with her knuckles, "We can start merging the cadets with the younglings here, before we move there-" "Send the corps to you, we shall." Master Yoda says, "Begin building shelters, they will." And that's the end of it. The Jedi now have a new base of operations while they fight the war.