#she gives me money unprompted (i know better than to ask even if i do need help) and then gets mad when i *checks notes* spend it?

[batemanofficial]

i have been home for twenty four hours and my mom has already made me cry 🤩

[azurescaled]

What are some of the requirements needed to be a songbird?

Unprompted Asks || Always Accepting! @ofoccultism

"When I hire someone on to join the songbirds, I typically prefer that they be a sex worker. It's better to have someone with experience in the background, because they know how to handle the work. I do take people who are new to the work, and I give them a chance to see how they work with it, at least if they seem comfortable enough with it. I've had girls come to me to ask to work under me, and I do take them in...To work a different job. A girl shouldn't be doing the job that a woman would do. I use them as recon or to get some gossip. Of course, paying for schooling gets expensive, but luckily for me...I have far more money than I know what to do with."

Serina swirls her drink around, humming.

"I do work with men as well, not just as bodyguards. Some enjoy working the bars, or they participate in the sex work for our customers who have a preference for men. I may only sleep with women, but anyone who's willing to work for me is given a fair chance. As far as other work, I have men and women in charge of managing the clubs or our various services in general. Information can go for quite the price depending on who wants it."

Having Kazuma to cover some of her blind spots in terms of information on others helped. It wasn't as if she lacked connections, but she could trust Kazuma on account that she held his leash. He doesn't want to die, and she can make his hunger turn into starvation with a snap of her fingers. Not that she would ever kill him. No, she enjoyed watching him struggle with his nature. Moreover, she enjoyed watching how Briar amused themselves with him.

"I've even hired some professional cleaners. Good help is so hard to find, but they never ask questions and they do their job with remarkable efficiency."

Serina smiles at the stranger as she finishes answering their question.

"I take it that's suitable enough of an answer for you, yes? Don't be afraid to come back as a customer. I'm sure I can find someone for you, if you're interested in such things. Tell your friends to come to Clair de Lune, I love giving people their first nightclub experience."

[bouncingkadachi]

Blessed Rain

Summary: A Hunter’s weapon of choice says a lot about them. OR: Kyle upgrades his weaponry and gets caught red-handed in the act. Luckily (?) for him, only Tsukino seems to know exactly why he's having an emotional crisis over this.

Word count: 3,260

Note(s): set post-game

Also available on AO3!

Kyle’s had his new bow for a good couple of weeks before the feel of the limbs and the weight of the draw became comfortable enough for him to consider upgrading it. If he’s going to be injured, he reasons, he’d rather it be purely by way of monster and not because he pulls a muscle wrestling with a bow that hasn’t been properly broken in. His wallet despairs as he forks over the zenny, but this’ll hopefully let him take on some of the bigger hunts like the ones that Reverto goes on. It’ll all be worth the investment up front once he has his completely finished bow and restocked his coatings and finally drops the last of his coin on a couple new talismans.

He refuses to think about the implications of his reasoning with a literal coin, rolling it around and around his fingers as he pushes through the market throngs towards the smithy’s. Perhaps he ought to have a change of scenery—the fog-shrouded summits of Terga were said to be particularly beautiful at this time of year, and the heat in Lamure was becoming just shy of unbearable.

The final product that the blacksmith puts into his hands when he finally makes it to collect is nothing short of gorgeous. Blessed Rain is sleek where his old Rex bow was bulky, far lighter and certainly not as clunky. The upgrades on the riser gives the entire weapon a pleasant solidness in his hand, yet the delicately reinforced plating on the limbs doesn’t retract at all from its flexibility. The decorative grip protector gleams. Just looking at it makes Kyle excited to shoot.

“Bring her back if you’re finding that you need anything adjusted,” the smith tells him after Kyle’s diligently inspected every inch of the bow. “Kept the poundage the same for you, but added another inch to the draw length like you asked.”

“Thanks,” Kyle says. Eventually, he’d like to work up to the point where he can up the poundage again. Even just another five pounds would be good. He can do most of the hunts in his skill range alone now, but extra firepower would make him just that much more efficient, or that much of a better support for team hunts. 

The smith laughs when Kyle sheepishly admits this. “Well, I always like to help a Hunter improve, and you know where to find me,” he says cheerily, clapping Kyle enthusiastically on the shoulder. “Come by again anytime if you need a tune up or want to test out something new.” 

And with that, he waves Kyle away so that another Hunter can step up, holding a tired-looking sword and shield and looking equally exhausted. “Aye, rookie Hunter?” Kyle hears as he wanders off to find a more relaxed corner of the market in which to admire his new bow some more. “If you’ve got the materials I can repair and upgrade that for you.” The conversation peters out and melts into the general din of the marketplace as Kyle slips into the crowd, taking care to step out of the way of a Felyne carrying an absolutely massive basket groaning with produce. He watches the precarious load totter away, trying and failing to locate Tsukino in the brief respite the parted crowd affords him. They’d split earlier that morning and he hasn’t seen her since.

He still hasn’t managed to find even a whisker of Tsukino’s whereabouts by the time he settles into a decently quiet nook next to a stall selling all manner of spices. Pity, because the dappled light spilling through the colorful drapes of the marketplace catches so beautifully on the milky-white sheen of the bow, and he’d been looking forward to showing it to her. As a Hunter, Kyle will always care more about weapon practicality than aesthetics, but as a normal human being he certainly won’t turn down the opportunity to have both an aesthetically pleasing and perfectly functional weapon. He’s still grinning a little when he goes to strap the bow to his back, and it’s in the process of looking up that his gaze catches onto wide eyes staring plainly at him from across the street. 

He freezes, arm suspended awkwardly halfway to sheathing. His beautiful bow glints damningly in the bright Lamure sunlight as his unexpected friend wades through the throngs of people towards him, gesturing for him to stay put with a wave of her hand that really can’t be mistaken for anything other than a greeting.

“Hey,” he says cautiously and lamely when she finally reaches him. Belatedly, he remembers to lower his arm. He is momentarily thankful that she doesn’t try to reach up for his face in the Mahanan greeting, although his goodwill evaporates when she leans in to inspect his bow, body thrumming with unexplainable anticipation.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” she says finally. Kyle can’t help himself from preening just a little, shifting his grip so that she can get a better look. After all, what was the point of spending all that money and materials if there was no one to excitedly show the end product off to? Besides, it’s been a while since they last saw each other. Last he heard, she had been traveling, keen to finally see the world on her own terms and at her own pace.

“It’s fresh off an upgrade,” he answers smugly. “Easier to handle than the Rex.”

“Slightly less intimidating though,” she chimes in, and Kyle bristles, not liking where this conversation is going. And true to form, she goes in for the kill: “Mizutsune? I recognize the plating.”

Kyle can feel the flush crawling up to his ears. Logically, he knows that there’s nothing for him to be embarrassed about. It’s a mark of good smithing that one can tell at a glance which monster a weapon was inspired by, and a Mizutsune was both powerful and extremely iconic. This bow in particular had good stats and the ability to fire rapidly, which admittedly took him some time to get used to after focusing mostly on piercing shots. The paralysis coating that works so well on this bow has also already saved his skin on more than one occasion. There is little more a career Hunter can ask for out of his weapon. It’s not like he’d been heading out to Pomore Garden at any given opportunity and holding onto an increasing multitude of Mizutsune materials just because he wanted some physical reminder of what was probably the most pivotal moment of his life, something that never failed to put a very complicated and jumbled mess of emotions deep within his chest whenever he thought back to it.

He’s starting to feel very, very hot under his collar. The sun is terrible. He resolves that his next big hunt really needs to be somewhere outside of Lamure.

His friend, however, just looks more and more baffled as he launches into an unprompted defense of his newest purchase. Every time she opens her mouth, Kyle talks a little faster. Eventually, she doesn’t even bother trying to interject, which is arguably worse, because instead she just looks progressively more and more thoughtful. Kyle wished desperately for Tsukino to peel away from whatever hidey hole she was tucked in. Then, his train of thought screeches into a rude and abrupt halt.

“What,” he croaks. “What are you doing.”

One of her brows quirks up. “I sure hope your eyes are still working because that’d be a detriment to your job,” she says plainly. “What does it look like I’m doing? I promise it’s not a trick question.”

What she’s doing is holding Kyle’s hand—the one not clutching his new bow—the one that had apparently been waving about with increasing agitation as he jabbered on and on. What Kyle doesn’t understand is why. It’s not like he just did some impressive shot to give them the edge in a battle or anything else that was cool and hand-holding worthy. He’d just been yammering about bow mechanics, and maybe embarrassingly dipping into his talisman hopes and dreams. He stares a little helplessly at his trapped hand. Her kinship stone winks up at him.

“Look,” she says patiently, when it becomes very clear that Kyle is going to need a moment before he can get his brain back online. “There’s nothing wrong with a bow made from Mizutsune parts and I am the last person who will ever turn down pretty things. What I was going to say was that this is an interesting departure from your whole—” She pauses, as though looking for a specific word. “Well, your whole image as a very grown-up and serious and intimidating Hunter or whatever it was you were trying to convey with that scowl you used to like so much. And you weren’t letting me get a single word in.”

“You’re getting plenty of words in now,” Kyle scowls, just to be contrary. “And I’ve grown since then.”

“Someone’s in a mood today.” She smiles, crinkle-eyed, up at him. Kyle very seriously debates wrenching his hand out of her hold like he did the last time this happened and then pointedly doesn’t act on the impulse.

“Why’re you in Lulucion?” he asks instead with a truly remarkable level of self-restraint. “Thought you’d never want to come back again after what happened.”

She shrugs, the greatsword on her back heaving with the movement. “Guess I’ve grown too,” she says loftily, though she sobers quickly. “I was actually visiting my grandfather. He used to go back to Mahana around this time of year… he can’t do it anymore of course but I’ve got Ratha now, so I figured I could do it instead. And then I figured I’d stop by Rutoh before going home, to see Ena and Alwin and wheedle a few more stories out of them.”

She lets go of Kyle’s hand. He tries not to miss it. “Even Ratha can’t make the trip in one go, and Lulucion was closest, so we’re stopping to rest. I dropped by the Scrivener’s Lodge earlier because I was hoping Reverto could give me a few weapon pointers as I’ve saved up just about enough for an upgrade, but they told me that he was out on an urgent mission and wouldn’t be back for a while.”

“Oh,” Kyle says, a little stung that she hadn’t come specifically to see him first, out of all the Hunters in the city. He’s slightly mollified when she grins at him, though.

“And then I met Tsukino by the cannons. She said I could find you here, so here I am.”

“I don’t know anything about greatswords,” Kyle blurts out, and immediately wants to kick himself. She blinks at him, and then bursts into laughter.

“I was just going to ask the smith,” she wheezes when she’s got herself somewhat back under control. “Can’t I see a friend just to say hi to him anymore?” Kyle stares very intently down at some of the finer detailing on his bow.

“Where is my Palico anyway?” he finally settles on, falling into a tried and true grumble. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

She waves her hand vaguely in the air. “Navirou said something about getting donuts. I wasn’t really listening.”

But there was a donut stand right here in the marketplace, Kyle wanted to cry out. He should have seen Tsukino by now if they’d really been going to buy snacks! And how was it possible that he had missed Navirou in his entirety, between the Felyne’s penchant for wearing ridiculous little outfits and his inability to shut up?

“Why? You have a hunt you need to run off to?” 

“Yes,” Kyle says hotly. It’s a lie. He’d accepted a subquest that wouldn’t depart until later that evening for the sole purpose of testing out his new weapon in a relatively stress-free environment. Before that, he’d just planned on hitting up the shooting range in the training arena to break in the new string. His schedule was very, very free. Tsukino was perfectly aware of that.

His eyes widened. Tsukino had been with him on every excursion into the Gardens. She went where he did (usually), and it’s not like Kyle would ever begrudge her a visit home. But she’d been with him every step of every single Mizutsune job he’d ever taken—had watched him craft traps when he needed to capture and had kept watch for opportunists hoping to sneak up as he’d carved. She’d been the one who’d recommended the spinner for all the excess purplefur he was ending up with. At first, he’d simply thought that she’d wanted the thread to mend some of her own items, or to send back home to her brethren, but instead she’d tucked each skein of vibrant, silk-soft thread into the bottom of his pouch with gentle paws, cryptically talking about how strong a material it was, and how nice it looked when woven. Kyle has never touched a loom in his life, but now he’s looking at someone who he definitely knows has.

His stomach drops. Hadn’t Tsukino looked particularly smug ever since he’d lingered on the blueprints for Blessed Rain after getting a look at its stats and required materials?

“She got me,” he groans. His friend just looks at him bemusedly, though perhaps with a touch of wariness at his ferocious frown. Hastily, he tacks on: “It’s nothing. I, uh—I just remembered that I needed to tell Tsukino something. Important. Later, when I find her again.”

“Alright,” she says, though she doesn’t quite look like she believes him. “A quest’s a quest, though, so I won’t keep you here. The bow really is pretty though. I know I just said it doesn’t match your image and all but I really don’t think you can go wrong with something you like. You’ve got the skills for it, anyway.”

“Thanks,” he croaks, feeling a little overwhelmed. He manages two whole steps out of the nook before he pauses, worrying at his lower lip. “Actually,” he says sharply, spinning around on his heel and nearly causing his friend to startle right into a spice display. “How long are you staying for?”

“However long it’ll take to upgrade my sword, I guess,” she says after she collects herself, the words lilting into a question. “Three days or so, I guess?” She skirts nervously away from the glaring vendor, careful not to overbalance on her greatsword.

“Cool,” Kyle says with a nod, steeling himself. “Great, even. Look, how about this. Your last visit to Lulucion was terrible—” an understatement, “—so when I get back from my hunt I’ll show you some of the better sights Lulucion has to offer. There’s a hole in the wall that I think you’ll like. Dad used to take me after hunts—they grill really nice queen shrimp. And the parapets—you can climb them, and they’ve got all these little carvings in the stone that you can search for like a scavenger hunt.” He’s keenly aware that he’s rambling again, but she looks interested, so he barrels on. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow just as soon as I can get a nap in. We can stay in the city or take Ratha out to the Barrens, down by the water. Just make a day of it.” He’s pretty certain that he looks at her with something akin to hope as she considers. It feels like a lifetime before she finally comes to a decision. 

“I want to take Ratha out in the evening,” she says finally. “I don’t want him to be cooped up too long here ever again.”

“Yeah,” Kyle breathes out, the word rushing out of him in a flood of relief. “Yeah, I can work around that.” She beams at him.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she says, sincere and looking more than a little surprised despite herself at the prospect of looking forward to doing anything in Lulucion. “I’m staying at the inn closest to the stables. Pretty sure I’m the only Rider there currently so they’ll know who I am.” Kyle nods, and lets himself get his hand squeezed again, though not without her hands first hovering in an instinctual bid for his cheeks before she remembers herself.

“Good luck on your hunt. If I see Tsukino I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

“She’ll show up in due time,” he mutters darkly. “I’ll let you know if Reverto gets back early or if he’s just been loafing around this entire time. For your next upgrade or whatever.” She laughs, bright, and then slips off into the crowd to wrestle her way into the smithy’s queue. Kyle is left staring in her wake before his gaze is drawn back down to his bow.

“This is all your fault,” he tells it. Predictably, it doesn’t answer. Also predictably, Tsukino takes that exact moment to drop down from seemingly nowhere. 

“I didn’t know we had another job lined up,” the Felyne says delicately, carefully brushing crumbs off of her coat. Kyle groans, sheathing his weapon.

“Don’t tease me,” he huffs. “I’m going to the shooting range. Are you coming?”

“Hmm,” says Tsukino. “I suppose I can spare the time.”

“Of course you can spare the time!” Kyle hisses, indignant. “You just spent the day eating donuts and eavesdropping!” He pointedly doesn’t look towards the smithy, where his friend was patiently browsing the display while another Hunter was getting their hammer looked at.

“One must always be prepared with the latest intel,” Tsukino says mildly. “I’m glad the upgrade went well.” 

“It’s got good stats,” Kyle protests weakly in what is quickly becoming a tired argument. “The rapid shots have been going very well. And I had a surplus of Mizutsune parts.”

 “Yes,” his hunting partner agrees readily enough. “Have you thought of what you’re going to do with the thread?”

“This conversation is finished,” Kyle says abruptly, making a very determined push towards the market’s exit. “Either come or don’t, so long as we meet at the gate for tonight’s hunt.”

Tsukino looks at him with exasperated fondness, which is frankly a little insulting, but readily falls into step next to him. Kyle wonders how many rounds he’s going to have to shoot in order to clear his head again and rid it of thoughts of Hazepetal Garden or Mizutsune or high-grade thread that he’ll never use himself. He’ll examine them again someday—because he’s not a coward—but that day is most certainly not today.

He does his rounds in the training arena and marvels at the way the string slides off his fingers with a satisfying twang, even though it’ll still be a good few days before it’s fully broken in to his liking. Tsukino’s saved him a donut, the cakey sweet sticky with honey and practically melting in his mouth. He’s got some free time even after stocking up for the evening hunt, so he takes a few minutes to browse the quest board, taking careful note of the jobs that were situated near the Harzgai Rocky Hill, or the ones from further afield in Alcala that’ll take him closer to Rutoh. And when he leaves the city, he pointedly doesn’t look up at the familiar shape circling in the dusky sky, even as he knows that they’ll surely see the last rays of the setting sun winking off of the plates of his bow like a beacon.

[ectonurites]

hey! how knowledgeable are you on stephanie brown? because i got in a bit of an argument with a dc fan on reddit who claims she's all these awful things, but im still relatively new to steph and i want to see what was true and what wasn't. link to screenie right here: https://ibb.co/vh6CYCJ

these may be matters of opinion, but even then, i'd like to know your take. i haven't read her firsthand often enough and i trust your judgement over this random redditor who seems to have some sort of blonde-woman related trauma left untapped.

I'm not necessarily the most knowledgable on her in the world, but I do know a decent amount because she's one of my absolute faves and I love her

But ohhhh boy that screenshot is a lot.

I will say that several of the things this person brings up are based in canon but are taken in the worst faith and framed in the way that makes her look as bad as possible, if that makes sense? It’s ripping things away from any context, because there's a very clear bias against her here.

I'll go through it point by point under the cut

First of all though before digging into this, I want to make it clear she was a 15 year old for the majority of the things this person is talking about. Like just pause for a second and remember she’s a 15 year old victim of abuse. That is something that I think factors into a lot of her behavior! Anyways, I kinda while doing this got into a ranty 'talking at you' format in response to the person who wrote all that, so don't take any of this as me yelling at you who asked the question/you anyone reading this.

"She always acted entitled" - Saying Steph is entitled is absolutely ridiculous to me. Stephanie grew up with a very unstable childhood due to her dad frequently being in prison and her mom dealing with a drug addiction, living in a lower class part of the city. Tim is entitled. I don’t mean that as like a bad thing about him, but he is based on his living situation, she is not. She has wanted life to be better for herself and her mom, and is determined about that, but she is not and does not act entitled.

(Secret Origins 80 Page Giant)

"and stubborn" - I will give you stubborn though, that one is true. She’s stubborn as hell! I don’t really see that as a bad thing though, pretty much every bat is stubborn?

"demanding that Batman and Robin accept her untrained ass" - Steph may have been untrained in fighting but she's shown to have exceptional gymnastics skills from the start, and at one point Bruce even says that with the right training she could be as good if not better than Tim (in Robin #88)! So like... her realizing she enjoys trying to be a hero after she tried it out to deal with her personal business, so she looks to the local experts… and is determined about it… how is that a bad thing? It’s also not like she walked up to them and said ‘im perfect as i am let me in’ what she wanted was a chance to be a hero. But she also wasn't even really looking for approval, either, not having Batman's blessing was never going to stop her. ("So excuse me if I don't jump when you bark, Batman." in Robin #16) Later when Bruce does bring her in to train (and she also gets to train with the BoP) she's excited! She’s stubborn about wanting to be in the hero business, but it’s not like she’s unwilling to work for it.

"advocating leaving criminals to die because they 'deserve it'" - She’s a 15 year old who grew up knowing firsthand how dangerous Gotham criminals can be because of her dad, of course off the bat when they’re in a dangerous situation where any of them could die (because that’s the context here, this is in Robin #35 where they’re trapped in some super dangerous snow) she thinks they shouldn’t go back for another criminal who just tried to kill them and should instead save themselves. But she also literally WITHIN THAT SAME ISSUE then says she realized she learned something after listening to Tim and trying to save the guy! In the same issue! Characters in a story aren’t supposed to be perfect from the start… they learn things along the way???

(Robin #35)

"trying to steal from the shops they just stopped from being burglarized" - She’s 15 and doesn’t have a ton of money. She was gonna take two sodas, and when Tim said not to do it she paid with very little fuss. They stopped people who were robbing the place at gunpoint for prescription drugs. If you can’t understand the difference in severity between those things like… I do not even know where to start. (this situation is in Robin #56 btw)

"forcing physical affection onto Tim despite his visible discomfort and repeated objections (not even stopping when he told her he had a girlfriend)" - This one I will give you because she did cross boundaries with all that! But I do also want to clarify that she didn't start coming onto him until after Tim kissed her first (in Robin #5) while not telling her he had a girlfriend. That doesn’t excuse her later actions but for the first issue that she’s coming onto him from her perspective he expressed interest and she was just returning it! She even specifically says 'Maybe I should pay you back for saving my life the same way you paid me' (in Robin #16) before kissing him. That first time she kissed him unprompted was under essentially the same circumstances he kissed her unprompted, and she literally did not know about Ariana until after the fact. From that point once she knew about Ari she definitely should have backed off and she didn’t, that’s a very fair thing to criticize about her as a character. But Tim lead her on first, and I feel a lot of people like to casually forget that when talking about this situation. The way this is phrased of ‘not even stopping when he told her-‘ implies she was repeatedly doing the bad behavior before he told her, which is not the case. She still did bad things here but don’t misrepresent the situation.

"And lashing out at Tim, her mother, and her classmates in violent fits of anger" - Every comic book character lashes out at other people for the sake of drama like, I dare you to come up with a well-known superhero character who hasn’t done shit like that to a partner/family/friends in a moment of high tension/stress?

"She treated the girls around her like they were stupid bitches" - frankly this ones a little too vague like, I'm not sure off the top of my head exactly what they're talking about? in that era right around her pregnancy and stuff I really don't recall her being mean with other girls? I could be forgetting something I guess but the closest I can think of is a bit after this period of time when she has the confrontation with Greta in Young Justice but that was Greta attacking her first, not the other way around.

"got insanely jealous if Tim so much as expressed concern about another girl" - Steph getting jealous and thinking Tim was cheating isn’t that crazy when STEPHANIE BASICALLY WAS THE OTHER GIRL DURING TIM’S LAST RELATIONSHIP? Tim has cheated a little bit before! Tim cheated on Ari with both Jubilee from Marvel (during a crossover thing where he even mentions Ari specifically so it’s not like this was out of continuity/a setting she wasn't an issue or something) and also with Steph. While most of the kissing between them was Steph coming onto Tim which I wouldn’t count as cheating on his end, he did still kiss her which I would count. Not to mention that the jealousy thing (I imagine they’re talking about the instance with Star, the girl who taught Tim to skateboard, this arc of stuff starts in Robin #80 and continues for a few issues) is happening during the time she’s dating him while she still doesn’t even know his real name. He literally has a whole other life she doesn’t know about, and is someone who has initiated romantic moments with other girls while in a relationship multiple times before! With that in mind I don’t think a 16 (she's def 16 by this point) year old girl being kinda paranoid about how he interacts with girls he might know in his civilian life is that unreasonable? The later big instance with jealousy is the Darla situation- where Steph sees Darla kiss him and gets mad about it (and doesn’t talk to him about it) and thats what prompts her to become Robin. The important thing to remember about Steph in this time frame is that DC decided she had to die and they wanted to make her Robin first to drum up more attention for that death. They were doing ooc things with her to set those pieces in motion, and that needs to be taken into account. I think her getting upset about seeing something like that isn’t even ooc, but her using it as motivation to become Robin and not even saying anything to him about it is. In the earlier instance where she’s upset/jealous about Star, she does communicate to him what’s going on at least a little bit on the rooftop after they’d saved her. She makes it clear the thing she was upset about is that she feels like she can’t trust him because she doesn’t really know him while he knows everything about her, and that’s why she thinks he’s cheating. Her reaction to the Darla thing is not in line with how earlier in canon Steph would have handled the same situation, because they wanted her to die and needed a way to explain her becoming Robin.

"and expressed that jealousy by accusing him of cheating and throwing things at him" - I just addressed the cheating stuff but the throwing things was fucking slapstick oh my god this is a comic book for kids/teens like. ah yes this is horrible abuse in this little funny montage of how Steph wants him to leave her alone because she’s mad at him and he refuses to give her space

(Robin #82)

I don’t think anyone at DC or even in fandom would/should try to argue she’s perfect, because she’s not! And I don’t want her to be because perfect characters are boring. Steph is flawed, Steph has been compared in canon to Robin-era Jason by Cass & Bruce

(Detective Comics #790)

And I think these highlight some of her very real flaws that are an interesting part of her character. These plus her stubbornness and determination are part of what makes her her.

And for fuck's sake the world was mean to her, and to act like it wasn’t is just blatantly ignoring a lot. A criminal father who made her life really difficult (‘when my dad was mad at me he’d lock me in the closet!’), that time she got kidnapped for two weeks and her mom had left her (a 15 year old) alone at home so long she didn't even find out it happened (in text Steph says Crystal was visiting friends, a lot of people interpret that as her mom possibly being in rehab for her addictions again), that whole thing about how one of her dad’s friends tried to sexually assault her as a child, also just how due to her dad's work sometimes criminals would be living in their house (Literally the fucking Riddler at one point!), the fact that we as an audience watched her get tortured for several days because a plan she tried to enact to prove herself backfired since Batman didn’t trust her with important information (something Selina even calls him out on in her internal narration), like… sorry but in what way is all that not the world being mean to her?

She was Robin, she dated Robin, she likes Eggplant (because purple would've looked stupid), and makes jokes. She’s also impulsive, headstrong and determined, and wants to prove to herself and others that she can be more than just the daughter of a shitty criminal, that she can actually be a force to do good in the world.

She’s a complex character, and nobody is required to like her, but to act like she doesn’t have a single redeeming trait is ridiculous. You could write a paragraph like that with the worst moments of basically any character and make them look like shit if that's what you were setting out to do.

[huihuiheart]

Spiked - Minho

Part of @clandestine-lixie ‘s Smutmas Collab and a great excuse to get some more Minho on my page! 

Summary: It’s pretty much tradition at this point that Changbin spikes the eggnog at the annual Christmas party. What happens though when secrets slip through drunk lips and aren’t forgotten the next morning? At least not forgotten by the very person you confessed to. 

Pairing: Minho x F! Reader

Warnings: Drinking (not drunk when having sex), drunken confessions?, cursing, some angst in the beginning, smut, lovemaking, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), oral (f! receiving), lots of petnames, moments where Minho is kinda smug, lots of praise, it’s sugary sweet, mild sir kink for a moment, fingering, some playful teasing.

I sincerely apologize but I haven’t had time to edit this yet, so...please excuse any errors and stuff I’ll be getting to those when I have some time. I wrote over half of this today with a migraine so we’re working on fumes here. Also if something seems off I apologize, I’ve never celebrated the holidays before so I honestly don’t know what Christmas is like....sorry.

Word Count: 4,992

“Awe don’t tell me you’re already finished taking bets? I haven’t even got mine in on how long before Changbin tries to get us all drunk.” You tease the rambunctious group in the living room as you remove your shoes by the door. Christopher joining you a moment later to help you with your coat, hanging it up for you as he often did. 

“Hey, don’t look so glum. Felix was just getting to the interesting wagers now anyways. Bets of any kind are in Minho’s care this evening. Gifts for tomorrow morning under the tree as always.”  Chris caught you up with where the ever excitable boys had already impatiently gotten up to, before stepping away with your coat so you could join the others.

“So what did I just miss then? You know the topic that had you all in a giggle fit?” You raise a brow as you claim a spot in their circle, between Minho and Hyunjin.

“Oh we were just discussing the last bet. Not that you’d be able to participate anyways seeing how it was about you.” Jisung smirks wickedly until you match his gaze with your own that was just as devious, making him fold in an instant, or so you think, “Just betting on whether we thought you’d stay the night or not this year.”

“That’s not interesting though, I stay practically every year cause I’m too drunk to go home alone and none of you will take me.” You chuckle shaking you head, “ A better bet would be who will get drunk the fastest, my money’s on Hyunjin.” 

Minho took your bet money counting it out before the other boys made their wagers too, writing them all down as more and more bets danced through your group. Both those typical for the Christmas party and those unique to this year for whatever reason. Debates starting up over a few of them as they always did.

“No I’m telling you Y/N will be the first one to admit it. She always gets loose lipped when she drinks.” Jisung teases despite the validity of his statement, something you’ve proven true to them at more than just the previous Christmas parties. 

“Still who she likes is the secret she guards more than anything else, she’d have to be so shitfaced for that to come out it would be ridiculous!” Changbin counters, “ My money is on Felix, he was practically giving it away unprompted last year. It wouldn’t be too hard to get it out of him if we really tried.” 

“Maybe that’s just cause Y/N doesn’t trust some of you to keep your mouths shut.” Christopher shrugs as he takes a seat, though all eyes are on him not because of the motion, but because of his words. Giving away that you had already confessed your crush to at least one person in the room. 

“Wait. So you told him, but you didn’t tell me? What do we even gossip for? Let I’m lowkey offended right now.” Hyunjin whines used to being your partner in crime when it came to exchanging secrets about your group, even the things you’d never tell anyone else. Trusting the other to lock it down tighter than even their own secrets, even if you exploited that information at times. Like when Hyunjin conveniently ended up paired with his crush for every game of the spring break party.

“In my defense I was distraught and looking for you when it slipped. Chris was just the only one around, so he’s the one who got that information.” You counter knowing there wasn’t any taking it back at this point anyways, Hyunjin barely accepting your answer with a grumble. You were somewhat glad that it was the case though, he’d surely exploit the information tonight if he had it. In this case you should be safe, or so you thought before you noticed the subtle smirk on Christopher’s face before he glanced between you and the very crush you’d revealed to him....Minho.

“Hey, the boys sent me to see if you needed any help.” Minho steps into the kitchen watching as you moved to pull something out of the oven. Most of the food had already been prepped before you arrived so you offered to be the one to actually cook it. This being the fourth time in an hour and a half that Minho had been sent to check on you, each time he showed up besides you though he announced himself with those same words....the boys sent me. Them digging a little deeper into your heart whenever you’d hear them again. It implying that that he never actually chose to come to you of his own will, only coming to you since the boys told him to.

“I’m fine Minho. You can go back to the others.” Your words were sharper than you intended and it nearly made you wince, even if he didn’t return your feelings he was still your friend and you shouldn’t be so harsh to him. Sometimes your feelings managed to rear their ugly head before you could stop them though, something you’d feel regret for later

“Rose....your thorns are showing again.” Minho’s gentle voice says the familiar phrase as he moves to stand at your side. His nickname for you with a subtle announcement of the fact that your emotions were slipping out quicker than you often registered, something he always managed to stay calm through no matter how snappy you sometimes got, “I don’t know what riled you up, and I don’t have to. You should go take a minute to calm down though. I’ll watch the food.”

The way he spoke to you was enough to calm you down enough to regain your composure, but not wanting to be so close to him and unintentionally get worked up again you conceded. Slipping outside into the frigid air for a few moments to collect yourself before finding the others in the living room again, sitting besides Christopher now.

“The eggnog spiked yet?” You question with a soft sigh as you lean against his shoulder, causing him to chuckle and nod, “Good, cause I’m going to need a drink to make it through the night.”

“You drunk yet Y/N?” Changbin teases as he pours you another glass. Internally cursing him out, he knew damn well he put something stronger in the eggnog this year without any warning. Knowing that you and Felix at least would try to keep up with everyone else despite being two of the light weights of the group. The others in that category smart enough to stop before they could make a fool out of themselves, even accidentally.

“Not drunk enough to lose to Felix or spill any secrets yet, if that’s what you’re asking.” You call him out, brow quirking as if to challenge him to tease you again. The alcohol buzzing through your system making you more confident in challenging them, even if it slowed your wit slightly. 

“Nah just wondering if you’re drunk enough to at least confess you’re spending the night? Well officially anyways. We thought of a way to determine who you’re going to stay with tonight.” Changbin brings his own glass to his lips, hiding his smirk knowing that Christopher had come to him and Hyunjin with a plan to rig it so that you’d end up with Minho. 

“Fine, I’ll confess to that.” You chuckle not catching onto their schemes, “So how are we figuring it out then? What’s your big, genius plan?” 

The sarcastic way you’re carrying yourself makes Hyunjin snicker, leaning towards Christopher, “Oh if only she knew...” He shakes his head slightly before shaping up, to hide any suspicious acts from you, “Simple, you’re just drawing the name out of a hat. You know the deal though, you only get to pick once and that’s who you’re stuck with.”

“Yeah, I know the deal.” You sit up further waiting for them to bring the hat over, the liquid courage running through you making you feel really good about your odds. It was only a 1 in 8 chance that you’d end up picking Minho, you were most likely safe from your crush. Well the possibility of embarrassing yourself while alone with him anyways. Or so you thought until you managed to pull his name out of the hat.

“Well.....I guess I’m rooming with Minho tonight....”

"Alright I think that's enough for one night." Minho takes the glass from you before you can get it refilled yet again. You'd lost count three drinks ago, hoping you'd get passed out drunk instead of having to face him. Luck wasn't on your side this evening though as Minho still had his wits about him and he refused to let you do something dangerous to your health.

"But Minho, if I'm not drinking what am I going to do?" Your whine is only added to by the small subconscious pout adorning your drunk face.

"We've both had enough and are going to bed now. It's 4 fucking 37 in the morning and you know someone's gonna be waking is up too goddamn early hangover or not. So if you wanna drink something it'll be water on the way to bed." Minho insists moving to help your inebriated form up from your seat on the floor and towards his upstairs bedroom.

"You can use the bathroom, I put some clothes in their for you so you can sleep comfortably." Minho sits on th edge of his bed, pulling out his phone to scroll through seeming almost entirely disinterested as you wobble off to the bathroom. Not getting far though before you have to pull the door open with a blush, your shirt wedged half on with only one arm successfully out.

"M-Minho I got stuck, c-can you help me?" Your words held no room for any hidden implications, especially not when panicked tears started to well in your eyes.

"Hey, it'll be okay. I'm gonna help you and you'll be just fine." Minho coos trying to reassure you, not knowing your panic was partly due to having to face him like this. His warm hands gently in the way they helped untangle you from the shirt you'd somehow managed to get trapped in.

"There you go, all better. Now go get those warm clothes on and get in bed before the cold settles in too much." He insists gently wiping away the last of your tears before you returned to the bathroom.

Silence filled the space when you returned, saying nothing as you switched places with Minho. Sliding into the bed while he was in the bathroom. It wasn't like you'd never slept there before, staying with the boys frequently meant that you'd slept in all their beds at some point but never since your feelings for Minho had developed so much had you stayed in his. Never after you'd felt like you'd embarrassed yourself beyond repair in one evening either. Not realizing you were sniffling with a fresh batch of tears until Minho returned.

"Hey what's wrong rose? You've been upset all day. Please talk to me, we don't like when you're upset." Minho's brow furrows as he uses the paw of his sweater to gently wipe away the tears again.

"I-It's just so hard Minho. I don't know if I keep doing this." You feel exhausted from the alcohol, the excitement throughout the evening, and now an emotional breakdown too and yet you needed to get this off your chest or even that might not be enough to let you get rest tonight.

"What is? What's hard? What can't you do?" Minho asks feeling his heart bleed at your distress even if he was able to stay as calm as he was.

"L-Loving you...."

You had passed out nearly the moment those words had left your lips, but Minho couldn’t, not after your confession. It had been the last thing he’d seen coming after trying not to look desperate to you all day. Yet you’d confessed to him of all people and it weighed too heavily on his mind for the next two hours to even consider getting any sleep. Only getting maybe two hours in before an excited Jeongin bound in to try and wake you both up so everyone could come downstairs for Christmas. Though Minho ensured he never got to you before he shoved him out with hushing sound. Slipping down behind him to grab some water, coffee, and pain meds for when you’d wake up. Telling the boys you’d had a rough night, probably drank too much, and should be left alone to sleep as long as you needed. Not expecting you to already be shifting awake when he returned to the room. 

“Hey, you can sleep more if you want. It’s alright.” Minho gently brushes the hair out of your face as your eyes slowly blink open, leaning into the warmth of his touch without realizing, “I brought you meds and coffee if you’re felling hungover.”

You accept his help to sit up and take the meds, willing your fuzzy mind to clear enough to recall what happened the night before, “Minho...d-did I do anything last night? I-I can’t remember.”

Minho froze debating how he should answer that, he wanted to be honest with you, but after seeing how upset you were the night before he didn’t want to embarrass you at all, “W-Well, umm....”

“I-I said something didn’t I?” You could read his face for once, the calm demeanor gone and it telling you something had happened. The way his eyes widened at your question was enough to confirm what you thought as panic bubbled up and made your throat feel tight, “W-Whatever I said I didn’t-”

Minho cut you off by pressing his lips to yours quickly, feeling his own panic, “P-Please don’t say that you didn’t mean it. I think I would die if I lost the hope that you actually loved me back.”

The panic stopped almost instantly, feeling it dissipate as you processed his words, “L-Love you back?....Y-You mean you love me too? B-But you were acting like I was such a bother yesterday.”

Minho sits on the bed, pulling you into his arms before you could cry again, “I didn’t mean for it to come off that way. I-I just didn’t want to look desperate when I couldn’t think of a reason for you to love me too.” 

“You’re an idiot, I was literally like so obvious.” You whine softly and he chuckles though his focus seems to shift as his gaze falls to your lips, “You can kiss me again you know....a-after all we both just confessed so it would make sense to...”

Minho’s eyes flick back up to yours as a smirk forms on his face, but he makes no smart comment as he gives in to what both of you are wanting. Leaning in to kiss you again, less panicked this time as his lips softly meld with yours. Though the both of you were pouring too much emotion into it for it to become anything less than desperate. Now that you had each other you needed that more than air itself, it remaining sweet despite the way you both chased after each other as if afraid this would all disappear if you separated for any real stretch of time.  You feel the faintest trail as Minho’s hands move from holding you against his chest to cradling your head as he lays you back onto the bed. 

“If you want to take things slower then just say so. I-I just don’t want to let you go.” Minho’s voice comes out so light you wonder how you hear it over the beating of your own heart, especially with how it races when his lips press a fleeting trail down your jaw between his words. 

“Y-You don’t ever have to slow down Minho, I’ve wanted this.....wanted you for too long to do that now.” You insist with a low moan as his lips press a little firmer against a sweet spot on your neck.

Minho hums against your skin too caught up in you to care about words when he could show you how he felt better anyways. His hands gripping at your sides, thumbs rubbing soft circles as if he’s afraid he’ll break you by being too firm. So you decide to make a larger move, reaching to grip the hem of his sweater and pull it off him, letting your hands and eyes roam his newly exposed skin. The feel of his warm skin beneath your fingertips heating you up inside, the flame of desire flaring up faster than you would have thought possible if the person before you had been anyone other than Minho. Minho’s hands gripping yours before looking up at you for permission, hesitating even as you nod.

“You sure you won’t be too cold?” Minho’s fingers peak under the hem to rub gently at your skin beneath it.

“Well if I am then I guess you’ll just have to warm me up.” Your words seem to light the same fire in Minho as he doesn’t hesitate a second longer to his sweater off you. Hands running over your stomach to squeeze your breasts through the bra, leaning down to kiss you again.

“Guess I will.” Minho speaks against your lips, tone deepening as he lowers again moving to rid you of your bra as his lips trail towards your chest. You nipples pebbling slightly from the frigid air and his advances, but noticing the unpleasant chill that runs through you he presses against you more, letting his warmth radiate onto you. His warm mouth closing around your one nipple as his hand toys with and warms the other, switching between them with a new path of kisses to make sure they get equal attention.  Until he gets impatient to show his affections elsewhere and his mouth lowers while adding soft nips between kisses to reach the hem of the sweatpants he gave you to wear. His fingers nimble as they work on the tie, though he doesn’t do more than that until he has permission from you to pull them down and leave you in only your panties.

“Oh the thoughts I had while helping you get untangled from your shirt last night my flower, and to think now a few of them are becoming reality.” Minho places a kiss to your hip, as his hands gently spread your legs, loving the way he’s able to fluster you so easily, “I’ve been dying for a taste and you’re not making it any easier for me. May I?” 

The way he drags his thumb over the wet patch of your panties makes it hard to respond when you’re moaning and focused on that surge of pleasure, but the thought of getting something more urges you to form words, “Y-Yes please, I’ve been wanting to feel your mouth.”

“All you had to do was ask precious.” Minho gently blows against the wet patch making you squirm before kissing your thigh and slipping off your panties and lowering himself between your legs, placing the gentlest of kisses to your clit. The way you whine impatiently makes him chuckle against your core only making you squirm, his thumbs rubbing softly against your plush thighs as he grips them firmly to keep them open instead of impeding his work. He has no intent on tormenting you with teasing, not this morning anyways, but he still wants to savor the moment. The way he licks through your folds slow yet firm enough to spark delicious waves of pleasure through you, enough so that you can’t complain too much about his pace. Minho’s tongue and lips working everywhere to get every last drop of you that he can, while also focusing on your reactions to find what makes you feel the best. Knowing that his own patience will wear thin soon enough and he wants to know how to throw you over that sweet edge with more intensity than you thought possible, wanting to make all of you feel as amazing as his heart did upon hearing your confession. 

“M-Minho please, I want to feel all of you.” Desperation bleeds into your words and actions as you squirm against his grip, hips trying to roll against his mouth and it has his eyes darkening with a new surge of lust. Nearly giving into you pleas, but you’re his first priority and it has him pulling away slightly making you whimper.

“Shh pretty girl, shh.” Minho coos softly, grip loosening as he runs his hands over your thighs and hips trying to get you to relax some, “Calm down, don’t get so worked up. I’ll give you what you want, I promise. You just need to calm down so that I can get you ready for me. We’ve waited a long time I know, but you can be good and wait just a little longer can’t you?”

This time a simple nod isn’t enough for him as he’s a little firmer with you in this moment, pinching your thigh lightly as he demands your words, “Y-Yes sir, I can be good for you.”

Minho has to take a deep, shuttering breath when he hears the word sir fall from your lips so perfectly, now was not the time to lose control, not when he wanted to show you every emotion he’d had trapped inside for so long. Not when he knew there’d be plenty of time for that later. Yet, it does have him snap a little as he dives between your legs again with more purpose. Lips suckling and kissing your clit like his survival depended on it, eyes locked on your face as he feels your fingers weave into his hair. The soft tug you give has him moaning against your clit, only adding to that pleasure as he eases a finger in, though it’s not long before he’s able to add another. Curling them with each thrust in search of the spot that would have you trembling against him, thriving off the pleasure he’d able to feed you right now, nothing else in the world mattering more than your cries for him and the way you lose yourself to the sensations. He knows he’s found that spot, when you’re clenching around him, practically sucking his fingers in, thighs shaking as your edge hovers so close and yet just barely out of reach. 

“Minho, please I’m close. Please make me cum or give me your cock, I-I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” Your pleas sound magical to Minho, it being enough for him to give you what you want, speeding up his fingers as his tongue flicks against your clit as he brings it between his lips again. Willing to throw your over the edge for the first time, so that he can have you losing his own patience as your nails drag lightly over his shoulders. The was you fall apart beneath him is like a work of art, the most beautiful Minho has ever seen as he slips his fingers from your spasming core to gently lick over you and ride you through the pleasure until you come back to him. Kissing you briefly before licking his fingers clean while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“You’re sweeter than I ever could have imagined my flower.” Minho hums in approval, his smirk almost showing more in his eyes than on his lips. You’re quick to respond though not wanting him to drag it out any longer.

“I bet we’d taste sweeter together, but there’s only one way to find that out now isn’t there?” You purr back as your fingers work to untie his sweatpants, gripping both them and his undergarments to impatiently push both down at once. Freeing his beautiful, hardened length to you finally. Not giving him to to ask for your permission before you rub his tip through your folds, leg locking around his waist to urge his hips closer. Your actions seem to be enough as he places his hands on either side of you, slowly pushing in and leaning in as he gives you a moment to adjust to him.

“You were awfully loud earlier flower, if you don’t quiet down then all the boys will know what we’ve been up to. Do you want that?” Minho’s question is somewhat serious, but it also holds a teasing to it as he’s proud of the fact that he can make you feel good enough to be so loud. You getting him back by rolling your hips against him and earning a groan from him. Hands slipping around his neck to tug him down and tease his lips with your own.

“Why don’t you shut me up then?” Your words are almost daring and they have him crashing his lips messily against yours as his own hips start to move against you. The patience between you both is gone as he finds a quick pace and yet he’s not manhandling or overly rough in his treatment, the erotic scene still one of passionate lovers. Baring their emotions to each other in the most desperate of ways despite not being able to handle a slow pace any longer. It being everything you could have asked for and more, right now you didn’t need the soft, slow lovemaking. You need this the desperate lovemaking, the kind that showed that Minho had been longing for you just as much as you’d been longing for him. The kind that showed that you were his now and that he would show you that in every way possible for as long as you would ask it of him. Where every move he made was to find what made you feel best, because you were what he most cared for in this world and where it was so much better than he could have imagined that he wasn’t sure if he could hold off. Though he was intent on your pleasure coming first as he angled himself to perfectly hit the spots he found brought you the most pleasure with each drag of his cock, thumb rubbing quick circles into your clit as his other hand tangled into your hair to keep your lips pressed against his. Taking in all of your moans as your pleasure explodes once more, the feeling of you cumming on his cock enough to send him spiraling into his own high as he moans into your mouth in response. Slowing his thrusts as he rides you both through your highs. Hands gently tracing shapes over your heated flesh, finding you glowing in the aftermath of your climax.

“Come on my flower, I’ll help you shower before we join the others.” Minho kisses your forehead softly before scooping you up to take you to the bathroom. Getting you in the steaming shower as quickly as he can so that you won’t have to face the cold while bare for too long and so that you two can be quick enough to be able to get some food in before the others ate everything. Not that he wouldn’t cook you up a good breakfast if it came down to it. Willing to shower you in all affections imaginable after what you both had just done. Though before long Minho had you both cleaned up and in warm fresh clothes, going down the stairs to join the others.

“Weren’t you wearing something different this morning?” Jisung questions Minho slyly as if they hadn’t all heard what you two had been up to earlier. Minho knew what he meant, but still didn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Yeah well I took a shower, so I put on something else.” Minho shrugs pulling out a seat for you, before taking his own so you two could eat breakfast as well.

“Oh did Y/N shower too? Her hair is all damp still.” Jisung innocently inquires taking a bite of his pancake trying to hide his smug expression. Minho gently moving your damp hair away from your bare skin so that it wouldn’t get too chilled.

“Well then you obviously know the answer.” Minho rolls his eyes adding his portion of whipped cream and other sweet toppings to your plate instead of his own.

“Hm I just find that interesting considering we only heard one shower running.” Jisung smirks at you both as the others snicker and chuckle, teasing you all through breakfast while exchanging knowing looks. 

The teasing had died down some later as you all gathered around to exchange gifts. Feeling your heart stutter as you hold Minho’s in your hands, the man seeming flustered as you go to open it. Finding a small necklace inside one that looked like a lifeline with a heart at the end, flipping it over to find his initials on the back besides yours. 

“So if things had been different this would have been when I confessed.” He admits in a soft whisper into your ear,  a blush adorning his cheeks so beautifully as you laugh softly.

“It’s alright I liked the way things turned out much better anyways.” Minho admits before the guys pretend to gag and whine at all the pda they were witnessing.

“Alright enough of the mushy stuff, you have to open mine next.” Hyunjin dramatically insists shoving his gift in front of you, a pretty envelope sitting on top and beckoning you to open the card first. Your attention immediately drawn to a special little note at the bottom...

PS. Minho’s name was the only one in that hat.

“Well guess I ruined your little plan huh?” You tease, flustering along with him as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek in front of everyone.

[retvenkos]

“i am this close to dropkicking all of you into oblivion”

i have one sibling in every hogwarts house, so here’s some weird things each of them does...

gryffindor

will walk up the stairs, stare at you for a minute straight, and then make a random animal sound (usually a pterodactyl screech) before laughing and leaving again

unironically blasts “all i want for christmas is you” at 8 o’clock in the morning on black friday

will call you at really inopportune moments only to breathe heavily into the phone, laugh after a minute or so, and ask you if mom is home (after she just told them she was leaving.)

if they get take out they always offer to get you something and then pay for it, but then they hold it over your head, later

never has cash on them, despite always being able to buy you take out

which means they never tip the doordasher, rip

honestly doesn’t care if they’re left out of family things™ but brings up all the times you did something without them randomly, just to guilt trip you

always makes plans for when they will come into money but never does

plans to get really expensive gifts for birthdays or holidays but then doesn’t have money when the time comes

impulsively sells their electronics (like playstations and xboxes) for money only to buy new electronics

and then eventually buy back the same model of the one they sold

actually stays out of a lot of family drama by just never leaving their room

needs “background noise” to sleep so they end up hogging netflix all night despite not actually watching it

yells loudly when playing video games, much to ravenclaw’s annoyance

stays up until 5 o’clock in the morning playing video games then doesn’t wake up until noon

only sings to annoy others

put a nylon on their head and had a cousin (an enablist ravenclaw) pour cereal and milk into their covered mouth

ravenclaw filmed and encouraged this

stole the microwave in the kitchen to put in their room

aLWAYS HAS THE TV ON BUT NEVER WATCHES IT

constantly deletes and recreates their instagram account

unironically likes riverdale

watched the entirety of the clone wars and then made fun of me and hufflepuff when they saw us watching it.

absolutely did not care what i put on this post

ravenclaw

will mutter a joke under their breath, and then when no one laughs, will say “wow. guess i’m not loved.”

went through a pirate, ancient egypt, ancient greek, and dinosaur phase at various points in their life

for the most part you would never guess but occasionally they will hit you with a bit of obscure knowledge that makes you go ???

planned a scavenger hunt based on the meme of ted cruz being the zodiac killer 

enlisted the help of their sibling, a slytherin, to create an ottendorf cipher to make it interesting 

gets enraged by the fact that gryffindor never tips doordashers

doesn’t want to be left out of family things™ but also doesn’t want to do them

doesn’t let their financial status known and will just suffer™ in dignified silence

will float gryffindor money to buy electronics, only to get hella upset when gryffindor inevitably sells them

needs a special pillow and a sleep mask to sleep

is dead silent 80% of the time but will break out into song in the middle of the kitchen, completely unprompted

will be completely silent and then say “they ask you how you are, and you just have to say you’re fine when you’re not really fine, but you just can’t get into it, because they would never understand.”

films gryffindor’s antics

used the microwave in gryffindor’s room without passing judgement

randomly deletes or renames everyone’s accounts on netflix

or will troll others, making a second account identical to their own

mostly to annoy gryffindor or hufflepuff

has zero posts on instagram. obscure stories only.

reinvents their entire style every three years or so.

has zero consistency when it comes to music taste

likes to think they’re better than gryffindor because they watch scandal and how to get away with murder instead of riverdale

begged me to make this post (specifically to roast gryffindor) and then got very offended by what i put here

hufflepuff

will interrupt you in the middle of a conversation, and then when you finally turn to them, will go, “uhh..... i forgot.”

has a complete inability to finish their food, no matter how hungry they are. even if they finish their first plate they will get a second or third and fail to finish it in the end.

is constantly binging tv - is keeping up with 5 shows at any given moment

if you ask them to do something they don’t want to do, they either do it anyway or pretend they didn’t hear your request

this combined with them pretending to be asleep to avoid work

they never want to be left out of family things™ but only want to do half of it or one very specific job (usually doing the place setting for dinner or something equally as effortless)

is strangely good at getting other people to give them money but is also willing to give you some if you need it

encourages gryffindor to sell their electronics but then backs up ravenclaw when they get angry about it

never sleeps but when they do it can be anywhere at any time

sings while doing homework

also sings when they hear you coming toward them and can sense you need something (then they pretend they can’t hear you because they are singing and if you get louder so do they)

is very confused by gryffindor’s antics

was visibly upset when gryffindor put the microwave in their room and refused to use it for four months after it had been returned to the kitchen because it was “tainted”

has an ungodly amount of tabs open on google chrome at all times

they have zero storage in their phone because it’s full of really blurry photos they refuse to delete

also refuses to delete photos on instagram - even the cringey ones - because they “die like men”

is rightfully horrified by gritty reboots like riverdale

rewatches cartoons and disney channel only

has an inexplicable hatred for anakin skywalker and jar jar binks

i haven’t told them about this post because i fear they will go feral once they know of it’s existence

slytherin

will ghost you for two months and then do an instagram story about missing their family and always wanting to be there for you

used to be such a people pleaser that they did a sport that they actually hated for four years

buys scarily accurate gifts but then never tell you how they know

says they don’t care if they’re left out of family things™ but actually does

either has lots of money that no one was aware of or is hella broke but can play it off really well

tells gryffindor not to sell their electronics but also tells them the place to get the best price

manages to stay out of a lot of minor family drama but is at the center of larger debates

can sleep anywhere and can sleep through literal earthquakes but wakens at the sound of footsteps and someone opening their door

they can also tell who is walking around by the sound of their footsteps alone

is quiet 80% of the time but has the decency to break out into song only when behind closed doors

big shower singer

is never present for gryffindor’s antics but laughs and says to do it again (with suggestions for them) when they see the video

reprimanded gryffindor for putting the microwave in their room but frequently used it.

a morning person

(there are 3 slytherins in my house and all of them are morning people, explain that.)

will keep their icon for netflix and other accounts (like their g-mail, instagram, or even myspace) recent, but the photo is never actually their face - just a weird aesthetic photo

unironically loves instagram stories

makes then religiously, too

has never seen gritty reboots like riverdale but watches youtube videos that hate on them

loved hayden christensen as anakin skywalker and will die defending him

laughed while reading this post - especially at their own idiocy

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

[tiny-maus-boots]

Queen of Hearts pt 13

A/N: Always and first thank you to my bestie @chloes-yellow-cup for always doing the thing. and to @kimmania who always gives each chapter a thoughtful review. 

13.  

“Oh, my dear it’s so lovely of you to come to brunch. I was starting to feel a little put off you know. All those invitations you so politely refused. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Stacie smiled and sipped her cool iced tea to give herself a moment. It was true, she had ignored all of Edith’s requests to have lunch. And yes, she had been avoiding the older woman. It was a matter of self-preservation really. Keeping up the appearance of normality around someone as observant as Edith Roussard-Ford was never easy. She had a keen eye and open ear to everything that happened to the biggest families in society.

“Well…I suppose I can be frank with you. Now…that things are…resolved.”

The old woman across from her nodded encouragement and leaned forward eager for any tidbit she could glean from Stacie. It was necessary even she’d rather not talk about life with Weston. When dealing with Edith you had to give some to get some.

“Of course, my dear. Dreadful business…”

“It was hard to get away…often times my only haven was my work. Weston was…” Stacie trailed off and cleared her throat. It wasn’t acting, the rush of anxiety she experienced just thinking about that time robbed her of speech. “Weston Whitman was a very controlling man. Controlling and more often than not…violent.”

It never got any easier admitting the truth of things but she raised her chin defiantly. Edith’s eyes widened slightly but her surprise was more about Stacie admitting it than the confirmation itself. She waited a beat for the other woman to ask what she knew was coming.

“Oh, dreadful. Just dreadful. And still…you never knew? There wasn’t a hint of suspicion about his true character?”

“Of his character, yes. Of his actual coming and goings and affairs…no. I had no knowledge of those terrible things. I shudder to think of him, under my roof, sleeping next to me self-satisfied with the blood of innocent women on his hands. What a joke I must have been to him with my work at the shelter, helping him keep up the façade unknowingly.”

“To think nothing of the scandal about the money.”

Of course, the money was far more important a topic than her public humiliation and shame. Stacie let her gaze drop demurely. Money was everything in this world, who had it, who needed it, and who stole it…

“I’ll admit Edith, I had some concerns about Weston’s business. He seemed edgy and evasive and he asked me to empty my personal safe…spending cash. Some jewelry. It was nothing that would ever pay back his investors.”

“I heard the federal agents seized everything. It’s a wonder you have a roof over your head, my dear.”

Stacie’s smile was brief and coy. “Much like oil and water, money and love simply do not mix. When you’re a Conrad you learn that at quite a young age.”

Edith leaned back to watch her carefully. Weighing all that she had learned and the earnestness in which Stacie had conveyed it. She could see the respect dawn in Edith’s gaze and when the woman leaned forward again it was with eager confidence.

“You may be a Conrad in name but you are Helene’s daughter in more than appearance. Your father barely had a nickel to his name when she ran off with him. Now there’s a scandal for you!”

It was surprising and Edith laughed gleefully when it showed on her face. She’d been raised her whole life on the presumption that her mother hand done what she had been expected to do. Money marries into money.

“Didn’t know that did you? She might have run off with August but she was no fool. Van der Berg family lawyers ensured he couldn’t take a dime of it.” Interesting. Stacie made a soft thoughtful sound and Edith continued unprompted. “You have to hand it to August. He made a name for himself. All that money is his by right…I suppose.”

Stacie’s brows came up and she tipped her head to the side. “You sound doubtful of that Edith.”

“I wouldn’t dream of speaking ill of your father, dear. I know you’re not close but there are some bonds that can’t be broken. Family bonds. You understand. I wouldn’t want you to have different opinions of your father. He’s done well by your mother.”

It was there, below the surface, begging to brought into the open. Stacie could feel it between them, brewing like a great storm. One little flicker of interest and it would come out. And then things would change forever between Stacie and August Conrad. And with that she was sure the tentative and fragile bridge she and her mother were building.

But if she were really like her mother, Helene would understand why she was doing this. At least that is what she hoped if this all ever came to light. Stacie let out a soft sigh and leaned back. She couldn’t out right ask about it, it had to be done delicately. Edith watched her work through the knowledge that there was something going on that she hadn’t been aware of. It was a careful dance baiting the woman to reveal more than what Stacie herself had given.

“Well, whatever my father is or is not doing, it’s nothing I know about. He and Weston shared that in common.”

“Ah yes. Thick as thieves those two…”

There it was. The hook Edith thought she was dropping in the water. Stacie batted her eyes in mild confusion, ignoring the slightly predatory smile on the old woman’s face. Her lip pouted out just enough to give the impression that she wasn’t making the leap entirely. Stacie smiled inwardly as Edith swallowed her own lure.

“Mind you, I’m not saying August is a thief, he’s merely an opportunist you see. He’s very good at knowing who to know. It’s how he made his fortune through the years. Nothing illegal in it exactly. Most would say it’s a shrewd bit of business.”

“But I don’t see how that could help him benefit from Weston’s…activities. Of course, he knows everyone, he’s a politician.”

“Hm indeed, indeed. Of course, he wouldn’t be involved in any such thing. Strike it from your thoughts, my dear.” The woman brushed a hand over her knuckles, and not for the first time during the conversation. Aubrey probably would have called the tell earlier but Stacie was proud of herself for picking it up now. “In any case I am quite sure Senator Grant and Warren Randall would lean very heavily on your father if they felt he was in any way responsible for Weston stealing their money.”

Stacie’s heart beat double time but she rolled her shoulders casually in a shrug. Jackson Grant and Warren Randall were her father’s closest confidants, present at every family function since as far back as she could remember. Uncle Jack had even gifted her the first horse she had ever owned. They were, in a fashion, family.

“I haven’t seen Uncle Jack in a few years. Not since his son Kodie and I went to Senior Prom together.”

It hadn’t been her choice of date, and the argument that had raged in the Conrad home had lasted three intolerable days, she and her mother butting heads on everything from the color of her dress to the way she wore her hair. Kodie wasn’t a bad guy and truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to go the dance with her any more than she had with them. But it had been arranged years before the event was even due to take place. In the end they both dutifully took their places next to each other for pictures in the foyer before escaping to the limo to get happily drunk on the well-stocked wet bar.

“I had almost forgotten about the blush of young love. I was worried about that boy for a while. You heard they caught him awhile back in a house full of street whores and enough cocaine to give that Tony Montana character a seizure.”

Her brows came up at that. It seemed unlike the boy she had known but people changed and it took more strength to keep from breaking under the family pressure than perhaps Kodie had. She let her curiosity at the topic glimmer to the surface.

“A house full of…he was the perfect gentleman at prom. I can hardly imagine that scene.”

“Who can say what’s gotten into that young man. If Jackson hadn’t gotten him a job at the Port of Los Angeles, he’d probably be in an out of rehab facilities I imagine.”

She could tell by the way Edith waved a hand dismissively that Kodie wasn’t worth the energy to think on. Stacie lifted a shoulder casually giving it the appropriate gesture of disinterest that was expected. There wasn’t much more to gain from digging further. Eventually Edith would wonder why she was so eager to gossip about the families. It was better to go on to something everyone knew.

“Speaking of rehab, did you know Tristaan has a new line coming out now that he’s clean and sober? He plans to call it Clarity. I saw a sneak peek of some of the pieces and they are just gorgeous. You’d just adore the mother of pearl pin collection…”

The conversation shifted easily and she spent another hour enjoying the afternoon with Edith. She kept the tone of their topics light but her mind was turning over the information she’d gleaned. Stacie was willing to bet even money that Uncle Jack and Warren Randall were in on whatever Weston was into. Whatever business they had together scared Weston, enough to demand she empty her safe, liquidate assets…it was big. Big enough to ignore Weston’s predilection to torturing and murdering women. Stacie knew there was a bigger play on the table, she could feel it even if she couldn’t see it yet. They needed more information and she knew just which card to play. She waved one last time to Edith as she slid into the backseat of the SUV.

“Home?”

She gave Happy a distracted nod that the blonde smiled at before turning to put the car in gear. “Who do we know in drugs?”

Happy’s bright eyes cut to her quickly in the rearview mirror with curiosity. She was weighing the request to see if Stacie was joking or not. After a second she gave a delicate grunt and focused on the road.

“Depends on how much of what you’re looking for.”

“Enough cocaine to make Tony Montana have a seizure.”

This time the eyes panned up in a slow disbelieving arc. Stacie smiled widely and gestured to the street to remind the other woman to keep her focus where it needed to be.

“We might know a guy…”

“Good. Aubrey’s going to want to talk to him.”

“I’ll make it happen, boss.”

[bluejayblueskies]

Could you do "things you said at 1 am" for MarTim? Romantic or platonic is good. I'm loving all these prompt fics so much!

warning for some discussion of canon-typical worms

.

Tim sets the box of Martin’s things at the foot of the cot in document storage and makes a show of shaking out his arms and hands, even though it really hadn’t been that heavy. Mostly clothes and toiletries and other necessary amenities—though Tim had snuck in a small faux-leather notebook and a picture frame depicting a family he assumed to be Martin’s standing in front of the sea. Martin couldn’t have been more than five in the picture, but Tim recognized his auburn curls and button nose.

 If Martin’s going to be stuck in the Archives for the foreseeable future, he may as well have something personal to keep him company, Tim figures. So, he’d packed it away, gathered the rest of the items on the list Martin had provided him with, and brought it all back to the Archives. Sasha was already gone by the time he arrived, and Jon’s office door was shut, though a thin line of light escaped from below it.

 He’s been working later and later, Tim’s noticed. And if the cot already tucked away in document storage is anything to go by, he’s also been spending less and less time at his flat.

 “There we are,” Tim says, flashing Martin a warm smile. “You’re all set to live in the company of hundreds of years’ worth of dusty documents. Not exactly bedtime stories—unless you prefer the spooky sort—but, you know…”

 Tim trails off with a small shrug. There’s an ache beneath it, one that grows stronger when Martin curls in on himself slightly and says, “Better than the worms.”

 “Yeah,” Tim says, and some of it leaks out—a guilt so thick it hurts his teeth. Two weeks, and he hadn’t even thought to check on Martin.

“We would have come,” Tim finds himself saying, quiet yet too-loud in the space between them. “If we’d have known, we would have come.”

 “I know,” Martin says, his words ragged around the edges. “It- it’s okay.”

 “No,” Tim says, surprised at the conviction in his voice. “It’s not. You were trapped for two weeks by a worm-infested woman and- and we just took her word that you were out sick.” Tim feels revulsion bubbling up within him, a sickening nausea. “I texted her. I thought it was you, and I- I was sending her the things I would send you, little jokes and pictures I thought you’d like and offering to come over. But every time, you said no. Said you didn’t want me to get sick, and it was such a you thing to say that I just accepted it! After a week, I should have just come by, if only to see if you needed- Christ, groceries or something.”

 Martin hugs his arms tighter to himself. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “I- I don’t know what would have happened if you did.”

 Tim knows that Martin’s right. He’d probably be dead. Or worse. Still, he can’t shake the feeling that if he’d just cared enough to check in, Martin wouldn’t have that scared, haunted look on his face that he’s trying very hard to hide. “Yeah,” Tim says, that same guilt laced into his words. “You’re probably right. Doesn’t make it better, though.”

 Martin just nods. For a moment, they stand there in silence. Tim doesn’t know what to do, how to make it better. He hadn’t been there for Martin when he’d been trapped and alone and terrified, but he’s here now. He’s here, but he’s never been good at comforting people, at smoothing the pain from someone’s face or knowing the right words to chase away fear and sadness.

 So, eventually, Tim shrugs off his jacket, folds it on top of the box, and says, “You know, I have some playing cards stashed away in my desk, as well as quite an impressive selection of crisps and chocolates. I have to tell you, though—I’ve never lost a match of Go Fish.”

 Martin’s eyes when they meet Tim’s are wide with surprise. “What?”

 Tim shrugs and smiles, a practiced motion that keeps him grounded even when pain and sadness threaten to tear him apart. He hopes it does the same for Martin. “Thought we’d make a night of it. A good old-fashioned sleepover, if you will.”

 “Why—?” Martin cuts off, shakes his head once. When he speaks again, his voice is cracked down the middle. “You- you don’t have to stay, Tim. I’ll be fine.”

 “I know,” Tim says, a bit of that guilt pushing into the edges of his words again despite his best efforts to keep it hidden. He lets it take over, for just a moment, and says, “I thought you might not want to be alone. And I’ve been told that I’m excellent company.”

 Martin lets out a small, shaky laugh. “Do they?” he says, humored, and something warm spreads through Tim’s chest, nestling next to his heart. “I- I suppose… I’d like that.” He nods hesitantly and repeats, “I’d like that.”

 Tim flashes Martin another grin before heading off to retrieve the cards.

 They stay up late, into the very early morning even as exhaustion drags Tim’s eyelids down with every passing hour. Tim’s always liked spending time with Martin—on Friday nights at the pub or on the occasional movie night or even just in passing, taking a moment to chat at Martin’s desk before moving on to his own work. He finds himself moving closer and closer to Martin as the night wears on until their thighs are pressed together as they lean against the wall, the cards laying forgotten on the floor in front of them as they just talk. About frivolous things, like the kinds of flowers Tim likes and Martin’s favorite pastries. About personal things, like Martin’s visits to his mother in the home and Tim’s brief affair with Sasha.

 The clock rolls over into single digits, and Martin says, quietly, “I lied on my CV.”

 Tim looks over at him. His hands are fidgeting in his lap, but his mouth is set into a thin, determined line, like he’d been working himself up to this for a very long time. Martin must sense Tim’s eyes on him because he continues unprompted, “I- I mentioned that my mother is in a home, and- and she’s been unwell for quite some time, so I had to drop out of school when I was 17 to support us. Didn’t have time or the qualifications for a degree, but I needed the money, and- and nowhere was hiring, so I- I faked my credentials. Said I had a master’s in business or English or history—anything that might get me a job that paid enough to support us. For some reason, my lie about parapsychology got me an interview with Elias, and then… he hired me.” Martin sucks in a small, shaky breath. “I- I’m only 29.”

 Tim’s reeling a bit. He doesn’t really know what to say—what can he say? Eventually, what comes out is, “You’ve been here since you were 22? Without a degree?” He turns so he can face Martin fully and says, completely serious, “Martin, that’s amazing.”

 Martin flushes a bright crimson. “I- I don’t really think it’s- I mean, it’s not really something that I earned—”

 Tim puts his hand on Martin’s knee, and Martin’s mouth snaps shut. “To jump straight into an academic job without any prior knowledge? Yeah, maybe it’s not conventional, but it doesn’t negate the fact that you’re just as good a researcher as me and Sasha.”

 Martin’s flush grows deeper, and he mumbles, “Yeah, I- I guess.”

 Martin’s hands begin to twist around each other again, an uncomfortable gesture, and after a moment’s hesitation, Tim takes one of Martin’s hands in his, trying to offer support and reassurance in the brush of his fingers against Martin’s. He hears the way Martin’s breath hitches as he does so, and affection curls in his stomach. “I’m glad you told me,” Tim says sincerely. “And I hope you know that I’m not going to tell anybody, not unless you want me to.”

 Martin shakes his head firmly. “No, I- I really don’t want to be fired. I, er. I kind of need this job.” He lets out a small noise that could almost be a groan if it weren’t so laced with nerves. “Christ, if Jon found out. After the dog incident, I- I think he’d just fire me on the spot.”

 “Or maybe,” Tim says, “it might finally convince him to stop berating you for every little mistake.”

 “Tim,” Martin says, pleading.

 “I’m not going to tell him,” Tim says softly, squeezing Martin’s hand once more to firmly convey his point. “I promise.”

 The tension in Martin’s shoulders bleeds out, and he sighs heavily. “Thank you. For- for everything, I suppose.” He pauses a moment before saying, quieter, “For- for this. For staying with me.”

 Tim knocks his shoulder against Martin’s and then makes the split-second decision to leave it there, pressed against Martin’s. “Yeah, of course,” he says lightly. “We’re friends.”

 “Friends,” Martin echoes, like the word’s unfamiliar on his tongue. After a moment, he squeezes Tim’s hand in return and leans more firmly into Tim’s side. His curls brush against the shell of Tim’s ear, and Tim has the sudden desire to feel Martin’s lips against him, ghosting across his jawline and light against his temple. For a moment, he considers asking—taking Martin’s hand and raising it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to Martin’s knuckles and his palm and the inside of his wrist.

 He doesn’t. Instead, he gives Martin a wide smile and says, “I like you, Martin. Me and Sasha and- and even Jon, I bet, underneath all that prickliness.” He gives in to his desires, just a bit, and lets his free hand come up to the side of Martin’s face, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “How could we not?”

 Martin’s cheek is hot beneath Tim’s hand, and he can feel the motion of Martin’s jaw as he says, quietly, “I… I like you too.”

 “Flatterer,” Tim says. He loves the way Martin’s smile at that feels against his palm.

 They go to sleep soon after, Martin flat on his back on the cot and Tim sprawled on top of him despite Martin’s protests that we’re not both going to fit, Tim, the cot’s not really built for two. Tim can feel the motion of Martin’s chest as he breathes; he wants to curl up into Martin’s side and stay there forever.

 “Goodnight,” Tim mumbles, sleep already overtaking him. Maybe that’s why he lets his lips brush against Martin’s cheek as he says it, a slight enough motion that he doesn’t know if Martin feels it.

 He’s not awake for long enough to know for sure. But with the feeling of Martin beneath him, soft and warm and safe, he doesn’t really mind either way.

[storiesofsvu]

Rita Calhoun Couples HCs

Rita Calhoun x fem!reader Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of smut

Gives nose/forehead kisses It’s normally Rita, especially the nose kisses, she loves the way you scrunch your nose up during/afterwards, finds it absolutely adorable.

Gets jealous the most Neither of you, you’re both more than comfortable/confident in your relationship and commitment to each other. When you first start dating there’s more jealousy coming from you over how much time she spends working, but you easily slide into finding a way to balance that out.

Picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk Being a well known/well respected attorney, if Rita’s going to indulge, it’s going to be at home, just in case, so usually it’s her sending a car to pick you up, but neither of you get too messy, it’s more of a situation where you’re calling/texting her whining, you’re not wasted, but she definitely doesn’t want you taking the subway or walking, especially alone.

Takes care of on sick days You both do, but it’s much more Rita taking care of you because she doesn’t like to admit that she’s sick.

Drags the other person into the water on a beach day Definitely you. Rita’s more than happy to lounge in the sun when you’re off in the Hampton’s for a weekend, but manages to give in and let you pull her into the water for a little bit.

Gives unprompted massages Also you. It’s usually when Rita’s working late, in the office or at home, or when you can tell a case is stressing her out. They’re usually just little ones, a few moments of shoulder/neck tension relief before you kiss her head and move on to make her a cup of coffee/tea depending on the time. It’s while you’re curled up watching t.v that you’ll massage out her hands/wrists to help with all that writing/computer work.

Who drives? Who rides shotgun? Within the city? Neither of you, it’s a car service, taxi/uber or walking if it’s close enough. Out to the Hampton’s, Rita usually drives, it’s her property so it’s just easier than her directing from the passenger seat, and it’s not that far. Anything requiring a longer trip is you, while Rita grew up not driving, you did, she doesn’t really like it, and you enjoy it, especially longer trips. Plus it gives her more time to catch up on work/sleep while you drive.

Brings the other lunch at work Usually you, but it depends on your career too. If you’re a detective, she’ll drop off a coffee/snack/meal whenever she swings through the precinct, same if you’re another lawyer. You’ve been more than known to order her an Uber eats lunch virtually from your own job when you know she forgot to grab her lunch from home, or cancelled a lunch date.

Has the better parental relationship I think this kind of depends. Rita comes from a high class family, with family money, based strictly on age, her parents might not be that accepting of her being bi/gay/might not even know about it. Rita strikes me as a pretty private person, even from family. While they don’t shun/disown her/cut her off, she probably doesn’t attend that many family gatherings, and when talked about, it’s mostly about work/that she’s such a high level attorney in NYC.

Tries to start roleplaying in the bedroom I don’t think anything would be “tried to start” while already in the bedroom, it never should be. Things always should be brought up/talked about first, I don’t see there being any role playing in the Calhoun bedroom, but there definitely is dom/sub play. It’s something that she’s already into, but waits for you to ask/let a title slip mid sex before she slips fully into it, and always makes sure the safe word/action is set and reminded before each session.

Embarrassingly drunk dancer As stated earlier, Rita doesn’t indulge too much outside of the apartment, it’s more of a, the two of you had been out for dinner and cocktails earlier and then enjoy a few more glasses of wine back at home, but it’s usually you getting way too excited over a song or something

Still cries watching titanic Rita. And the first time you watch it, it just happened to be on t.v, or on an airplane or something. She tries to hide it from you, and obviously you burst out laughing and poke fun at her for it for the rest of time.

Firmly believes in couples costumes You. Rita protests, and shuts down most of the ideas you put out, she’ll settle on something somewhat classy/reserved, nothing too over the top.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas OBVIOUSLY RITA! Duh. Whether she gets you something within the limit and a bonus gift over it, or all of your gifts are over it, she does it. It probably causes some kind of bickering the first couple of years, but she sneakily finds the solution of whisking you away to some lavish vacation at Christmas in the following years. A way to spoil you without you feeling like she is, (she’s technically treating herself too)

Makes the other eat breakfast You, especially on lazy mornings where she’s called in to a client. The day started off with lazy cuddles and coffee, the plan to go out for brunch later on, but once that phone rings you know that plan’s off. Usually once she gets up to get ready you’ll head over to the kitchen to at least put together a bagel, throwing a granola bar/piece of fruit into her bag for later.

Remembers anniversary Both of you. It’s outlined with a heart on the calendar, there’s a reminder in your phones for what time/where dinner reservations are. You don’t do gifts, just a classy evening out followed by a nice night together at home.

Brings up having kids Rita. But it’s not about having kids. Its about not wanting them whatsoever. And it’s either brought up on the first date, or before you’re even considering dating and are just friends. It’s a deal breaker for her, so it’s a pretty big thing and needs to be brought up right away, especially since she’s older and doesn’t want to waste time on a relationship with an end date.

__________ @1000spices @thatgaygiraffesquirrelgirl @oliviaswifey @vivis-ghost-wife @billiedeannovak @infiniteoddball @wannabe-fic-reader @thatesqcrush @gay-ass-bitch

[venenorum-archive]

hands are clasped behind her back, iovita beside her as they strolled the streets of ancient rome. there's an old charm to it that draws her and she can see why the witch called it home. the place was such a palpable memory that it was easy to maintain, and hearing iovita show her the places they knew, what they remembered, hekate fell a little more in love with it. ❝ ━ whenever i conjure rome from your memories, it's as though you frequented one or more places. do they hold a lot of meaning to you? ❞ one hand reaches out, tucking the witch's hair behind their ear, a grin playing about the corners of her mouth. ❝ ━ any memories you want to share? something crazy you did in your youth?❞

❝ unprompted.

          THERE’S A HITCH IN IOVITA’S breath at her words. they recover swiftly, though, slanting their gaze away and back. “ I won’t lie, a lot of them aren’t good memories. ” how long had they been in antium? time lost its meaning early in the witch’s life, and a decent handful of childhood memories have a tendency of being inaccessible until the worst possible times, when they creep down their neck like winter’s shadow. it’s funny, that. how they can long for another time and hate it all the same. “ a lot more are tied to people - that’s... that’s when it got better. the memories. ” pieces of their own childhood might be lost to fog, but they can still remember the first time col ever smiled at them - barely two years old and already twisting their heart. maybe, in the end, that’s the only thing that truly matters.

          they tilt their head, reach down to squeeze hekate’s wrist, pulling, then fingers slipping away as their steps carry them down a side street, trusting the sound of her footsteps to know she’s following. 

          eighteen centuries come and forever gone, and the streets of this city are still engrained into muscle memory. 

          “ the city of rome. ” iovita muses aloud. “ oh, I was here a lot. when I left antium, I came straight here, because it was easier to hide. and I did, for a few years. ” it’s so much better, like, this.  the statues are still painted. the architecture is more alive than it ever will be again - not chipping, not falling to ruins, not buried under a modern city, and not stripped to the bones for building materials somewhere else. right now it’s alive and tangible and as close to their homeland as they’ll ever get again. for that… they don’t think there’s any way they could string together the right words to tell hekate how grateful they are that’s she’s done this. they think she knows, though - after all, the goddess watched them fall apart when she first brought them here, reverent and trembling.

        under all of that is the immense feeling of something else - a spiraling sort of wonder at how much she cares for them, to bring them here not once but twice and ask for nothing in exchange except for their memories.

        they slow as they come to the building they were leading her to. it’s as familiar as the day they first saw it, and even more so as they continue, twining through the hallways and up the stairs until they come back out into the light and out into rows and rows of seats. “ in the future, this will be a park. everything here from my time... it ends up buried, really. ” before them is the broad white sand of the stadium, partially divided by it’s spina, and currently empty. “ when I came here, I needed money. and if there was one thing I knew it was how to change fate. and, if there’s one thing that humans know how to do, it’s gamble. I started with just a little coin, made my bets and made damn sure that my chosen chariot made it to the finish. ” not an easy feat. 

        “ I did the same thing with gladiators. and sometimes I had people pay me to sway fate towards the outcomes they wanted. and then word got out, what I could do. ” they give her a crooked smile. “ there were people who - and this was a hush-hush kind of thing - kept us witches in line. made sure we weren’t causing trouble. changing fate so that certain gladiators met a bloody end and you made money off of it apparently counted for causing trouble. ” and earmarked them as a powerful witch. “ but the man who confronted me about it was kind. I joined up with him and from then on a lot of my time was spent in the countryside. wandering, a lot. settled down, in sicilia, for a long time. ” for a second, there’s a terrible sort of longing in their gaze, head snapped south like they can see the province from here. there would be a villa. a good, cozy villa. with geese who liked to honk just outside the door and a half-wild garden with the sweetest fruit. 

      and an iovita who thought they finally had peace.

      what a fool I was, they muse silently. 

      it’s not like they haven’t had more chances at that peace. it’s just that something tends to rip it away from them, no matter how hard they cling or how many blind eyes they turn. col took himself and lucius away from them, the next people they loved, kallia and will, both died painfully human deaths. and... it makes them want to cling even harder to hekate. to indulge themself in as much of her as they can because just in case is always ringing in their head. what if is a poison that seeps into their mind like a leak, and yet they drink it down willingly.

      at some point in their life, iovita realized they felt like a ghost. someone who should be dead and resting, cursed to have their heart still beating in their chest while they desperately try to remember what it felt like to be truly alive. now it feels like that’s more true than ever: like they’ll fade away if they’re not careful. disoriented by the feeling, they reach out to grab hekate’s shoulder, both to ground themself and wave away the what if. the just in case. 

      she’s warm and solid under their touch, and the sigh they breath is something that shudders in relief. do you ever feel like this? they want to ask, but they don’t have a clue how to put it into words.

      they can feel the concern in her gaze, the touch of her hand along their arm, and they shake their head. “ I know it’s stupid to say it to you, of all people, but I’m so old, hekate. ” they laugh a weak sort of laugh. “ thank you for bringing me here again. ” the hand on her shoulder squeezes slightly, and they lean in to brush a kiss across her cheek. “ even if I act my age about it. ” // @solaoccasum

[tinyboxxtink]

Helpless *Part 4*

Well, this is where I decided to go! LoL. Let me know what ya’ll think....

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

@wanniiieeee

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@dumauier

@word-scribbless

“Why am I like this?!” You yelled to no one in particular in the kitchen.

“The doctors can’t explain it,” Arianna came from behind you, giving you a wink.

“Ha, Ha ha.” You laughed sarcastically. “Seriously, I did it AGAIN,”

“Your little ‘Rain Man’ routine? Aw honey…” Ari made a fake pout face, rubbing your shoulder like a child. “Did you find out anything useful?”

“Useful….?” Your panic attack of the moment was quickly replaced with questioning.

“Well, yeah. Honey if you’re gonna hook him you need a way in,” Ari dropped off her dirty dishes and grabbed a rag, acting completely nonchalant. You blinked several times, making sure you heard her right. When she looked to you for a response, you knew you had.

“A-Are you serious Arianna?!” You screeched a little too loudly, she pulled you into her bosom in  a corner of the kitchen.

“Are you serious?!” You whispered this time. “We haven’t done that since high school, when we were living in that car!”

“Right, and unless you wanna go BACK to living in that car, we’re gonna need a...helping hand,” She nodded towards the front.

“I-I can’t believe this, is THIS why you pushed this?! Was this your plan this entire time?”

“No! Of course not! I really think the little obsession you have with him is….endearing,” she put a hand to your face, but you slapped it away.

“But when I googled him last night, I figured-- I mean, why don’t we both get something out of it?” She shrugged.

“Wha--We-I--...” your brain was running faster than you could process words.

“Look what’s the big deal? You get to sleep with him, care about him, blah blah blah--  all I’m asking you to do is find a crack in that armor,”

“So you can exploit it,” you added coldly.

“Exploit’s such a dirty word Y/N, come on All I do is do some research, dig some skeletons out the closet. If they don’t want them to get out, all they have to do is, I don’t know, throw us a few thousand dollars, and boom! We’re set for another few months!”

“Except that I actually like him, Arianna. He’s a good guy, he doesn’t deserve--”

“Well if he’s such a good guy, then you won’t find anything right?”

“I...yeah, well--”

“He’s still a politician, sweetie. Don’t let the dimples fool you,” She chuckled.

“Look, I hate to rain on your little fairy tale babe I really do, but we need this,” She took your hands in hers.

“Do you remember how hard it was for us when we moved here? Not eating for days? Taking turns sleeping so no one would break into the car? Not SHOWERING?” She shook you.

“YES, okay? Yes, I get it. We need this,” you sighed.

“We need this,” she repeated, putting a finger in your face.

“ORDER UP! Y/N!!” The cook called you for Rafael’s meal.

“I--That’s his, I gotta go,” You moved past her and grabbed the plate with a towel and walked out.

---

Rafael was reading his phone when you came back and placed the steaming plate in front of him.

“Thanks,” He said half heartedly, not looking up from his phone. Well Arianna would be sorely disappointed that you’ve already fucked this up before you knew what you were doing.

“Well don’t eat it all at once,” You tried joking, failing miserably. Who said that?

Rafael glanced up at you, then the food, then you, then his phone with a chuckle as he put it away.

“You gonna make me eat alone?” he grabbed a fork and stuck it in the pasta.

“...I’m working,”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he winked.

You were starving, you had forgotten to eat before your shift. And the chicken parmesan looked delicious. You grabbed a fork from underneath the bar and after looking around, took a quick bite off Rafael’s plate.

“Mmmm….” you closed your eyes and licked your lips; their food was absolutely delicious, and your stingy ass boss never let you have any free meals. Finally you looked to see Rafael just beaming at you.  

“What?” you scrunched your nose.

“You make these cute little noises when you eat. Like you're savoring every bite,”

“Oh my god…” You instantly swallowed the food and put the fork down.

“No no no! It’s adorable,” he assured you.

“...Well that’s what happens when you’re used to going days without food,” you replied with an embarrassed smile. “You learn to appreciate food,”

“I hear that,” Rafael nodded, continuing to eat.

“Right...the barrio,” you looked to the sky, as if whoever up there was going to absolve you of anything.

“That must’ve been really hard,” you placed your hand over the one he wasn’t using to eat, giving him the softest eyes and a comforting smile.

“I thought we were past that, camarera,” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Right. Yeah,” You moved your hand and turned away from him, cursing at yourself silently. Arianna was wrong about this, he was too smart. Even if you WANTED to manipulate something out of him, he made you too nervous. He could see through you. Still, the thought of going without food was too scary to ignore.

“I just thought, it was nice to finally find a guy that got what it was like growing up with nothing,” you turned back to him with a sad shrug.

“You know most of the people that come in here are full of money. Always have been, always will be. Then they procreate and give their money to their spoiled little offspring who just grow up and spend it and continue the bourgeois cycle. The rich get richer, and hood rats like us just run around trying to grab the scraps they drop on the floor,” You gestured around the restaurant angrily as you talked.

"Hey, this hood rat did pretty damn good for himself, thank you," Rafael said between mouthfuls of food.

"Right. Well, let me know how that goes for you," you rolled your eyes.

"Hey," He swallowed, "If I can do it, anyone can. Believe me," looked at you with those puppy dog eyes of his.

"Right, sure," you replied sarcastically with a laugh.

"I'm serious!" This time he reached for your hand underneath the bar.

"What about your voo--science?" he asked earnestly.

"What about it?" you raised an eyebrow.

"What if I could do something about it?" He asked, sincerely. Oh God, he was being so sweet.

"B-But I didn't win the game, we're tied," You pointed out, making him sit back and chuckle.

"....So we are," he licked his lips with a smirk.

"Alright then, ask me one more. But NOTHING about family, comprende?"

"Fine by me, I've got one already," you smirked.

"Hit me,"

"Do you want to sleep with Liv?"

His smiled faded to a shocked stare. You saw the thought of lying go through his mind, but apparently he was learning. There was no point in lying, you'd call him out either way.

"...Yes," He finally replied, looking down at the floor for a microsecond. He definitely did not want you to know that.

"But look-- we're better as friends. I know that, she knows that. We've just been friends for such a long time, and we just have chemistry. But nothing will ever happen, I swear," It was like watching yourself, the words just kept tumbling out of him. Finally, he stopped at looked you in the eyes.

"Happy now?" he shook his head, taking a gulp of his scotch.

"Hey I didn't ask for an explanation counselor, you provided that on your own accord," you put your hands up and giggled.

"I--You..." He went over the conversation in his head, realizing only just now you hadn't actually asked to elaborate.

"....You make me nervous," He shook his head with a smile, looking down at his food. His cheeks were the just the faintest shade of pink.

"You are right about one thing though," he spoke without looking up from the floor.

"What's that?"

"It's nice to talk to someone who knows what it's like to not know where your next meal is coming from, or if the next beating is gonna be the one that kills you--" He stopped mid sentence, the pink draining from his face. Actually ALL color for that matter drained from his face. Your eyes went wide, your own face feeling pale.

You hadn't braced yourself for that one, that's for sure. You thought maybe his dad took off on him when he was a kid, maybe he was an alcoholic who would come home drunk every night. Maybe a gambling problem. Not...that.

"I--I didn't mean..." Rafael barely coughed out, his eyes still wide with shock and confusion. How in the FUCK did he let that slip? He would absolutely never even mention things about his dad, let alone make a flippant comment about him. You made him nervous sure, but this was something else. He felt too comfortable around you, too safe. And he wasn't entirely sure he liked that.

"I...I need....I'll be back," He stammered, clearly freaked out. He stumbled off the bar stool and made a bee line to the bathroom.

Arianna took this moment to come out and check on you.

"Well now, did I miss something or were you the one making him nervous?" She giggled but you glared right back at her. "What?"

"I-I can't believe you made me do that!"

"I didn't make you do anything!"

"You--You got in my head, Ari. I lead him, I stroked his hand, I did everything to make him let his guard down, and I didn't even MEAN to do it!" You tried to keep a low voice but you were in moral turmoil right now.

"Babe, you need to learn to embrace this superpower," she took you by the shoulders once again. "You have this way of...enchanting people,"

"Now who's making it sound like magic?" you rolled your eyes.

"Ok for lack of a better word, hypnotizing? Better? People just TELL you things, unprompted. I don't know what it is about you. Your whole cute little "door mouse" demeanor, those big doe eyes. Whatever it is, you charm secrets out of people like snakes. That's why we're friends!" She giggled, but stopped when you made a look of disgust. Did she really just say that?

"I mean, that's one of the reasons we're friends. Not the main one, definitely not," she shook her head, assuring you the best she could.

"But I don't like doing it!!!" You stomped your foot, tears in your eyes. You hated doing it, you hated it. Your "door mouse" demeanor was really genuine, you hated hurting people. But Ari made you do it; and you let her.

"With great power, comes great responsiblity," Ari said in a bold voice, ignoring your eye roll.

"Look if I could do it you KNOW I'd be all over that. But you've got the silver tongue, so I gotta handle the silver,"  She winked, giving you a small hug, like that would make you feel any better. After a moment, she pulled back and gestured to the bathroom.

"So what crawled up his butt?"

"His dad used to beat him," You said it without thinking, instantly slapping your hands over you and hating yourself for just giving her what she wanted.

"OOOH!! Daddy issues, my favorite," she giggled, clapping her hands together.

"ARI, SERIOUSLY. STOP," "This isn't a game, this is people's lives!" The angry tears lining your eyes threatened to drop any second.

"YES, it is. It's our lives, that you need to save. Let the fancy abogado cry about his daddy for a minute, then suggest you go home and make it better," She told you in a completely serious tone and face.

"And do it FAST, we're closing soon," She warned, going to the back as you saw Rafael coming back from the bathroom.

Were you really gonna let her make you destroy someone you actually cared about....again?

[monsterywriting]

Thenerius - pt 2

word count: 5,675

male tiefling x female reader

Read Part 1 here

AN: whelp i guess this is getting (hopefully just) a third part... good luck to everyone else who’s going through finals week and don’t procrastinate your final projects/tests like i am! literally have a final today to study for and take after my 8 am and a portfolio due friday i haven’t started on lol

You were getting one last bucket-full of water for a much-needed bath from the pump around the back of the barn, too far to hear when the thundering sound of hooves on the dirt path approach the cottage. You also miss the shout of greeting and the sound of voices entering the cottage.

The sun was finally dipping below the horizon on a long day of playing catch-up around the homestead, and your only plans for the evening were to wash up and make dinner before passing out. So, when you finally reentered through the back door soaked in sweat and worn work clothes only to see your mother sitting at the small wooden table with none other than Thenerius, you were understandably shocked.

He was obviously here to kill you, getting revenge for how you humiliated him and refused his advances when he wanted you to accept them the most. You had been brave in that moment, brushed aside the fact that he was a pirate and more likely than not a killer, and now you would be paying the price.

When the tiefling saw you frozen at the doorway, his already bright demeanor seemed to reach the levels of the surface of the sun, blinding then burning when he stood up to greet you enthusiastically. You almost wish he was here to kill you, that fate infinitely better than whatever he actually had planned instead.

Pointedly ignoring him, you addressed your mother only, asking if she took her medicine yet.

“Your friend from work was keeping me company,” your mother smiled, though it was clear that she was drained from the encounter, “He brought your weekly payment from Aedan.”

Your head snapped over to Thenerius, the tiefling having the nerve to grin and hold up a pouch of coins. You were distracted, however, when your mother let out a soft cough she tried in vain to hold back. She broke out into a coughing fit, starting small and growing until they wracked her body.

Your concern grew, helping her to the bedroom and quickly getting some cough syrup into her. Once she was settled, you went back into the main room to deal with the purple menace.

He was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room once you returned, the pouch sitting on the table. You stalk over and grab the pouch, shoving it into the tiefling’s chest.

“You need to leave,” you hiss, beginning to usher Thenerius towards the door.

“Wait!” The bastard had the nerve to dig his heels in, refusing to move until you give up on forcing him.

“What?” You spat, glaring up at him. Perhaps you would have found it amusing, how he had to duck his head to keep his horns from scraping the ceiling, a grizzled pirate trying to make himself fit inside the cozy cottage. No, you definitely would have found it hilarious, if said pirate wasn’t in your cottage unannounced, the location of which you never divulged during working hours, apparently trying to win your affections after your admittedly callous rejection.

“I-” Thenerius hesitated, any confidence he had that carried him all the way to your home dissipating when you weren’t as responsive to his charms as he’d come to expect from you, “I wanted to apologize. You were right, about the proposal. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You blinked, having assumed you’d be given another unwanted love confession. You’re not sure what to make of the admission, though you’re certain it wasn’t a trick, as he seemed genuinely remorseful.

“What part, that we’ve only known each other for three weeks or that it was because you were so lonely and any girl who wagged her tail at you would have had you falling for her?” You’re internally grimacing as soon as the words are out, unable to believe how cold you sound even to yourself. You didn’t want to goad him to anger if he was just here to apologize.

“If my memory serves correctly, I believe the exact phrase you used was ‘bat their eyelashes’ at me.” The attempt at humor didn’t quite reach Thenerius’ eyes, but you still allowed yourself to deflate at the opportunity of a reprieve, “but that it came too soon. I had done it thinking of all the time that had passed since I met you, the time I spent halfway across the world and all I could think about was returning to you. Your smile alone made the entire six month journey worth it, but you gave me so much more in that time - not your love. I know that, now, but… your time, and affection. Once you said  that - that we’d only been in each other’s presence for three weeks - I realized, perhaps I was rushed in my assessment of who you were. I filled the gaps of who I wanted you to be in my head.”

By the end of his faltering speech, you had shut your eyes, screwing them tightly shut in order to avoid having to look into Thenerius’ eyes, the raw emotion that swelled behind them that threatened to consume you with it. You refused to allow yourself to be caught up in the moment, to let yourself fall any deeper in than you already were entrenched from his flowery words. Just words, you told yourself.

“Is that all you needed to say?” You clear your throat, opening your eyes and looking anywhere but him, your resolve thinning with the mere awareness of his gaze upon you, feeling yourself being worn down.

Perhaps ‘worn down’ wasn’t the right verbiage, though it very much felt like it. Dragging you out into the light? Exposing you to be scrutinized, or to be known? What is the difference, if any? Either way, you felt as though Thenerius could read every passing thought darting around your head at lightening speed, projecting loud and clear your true desires no matter what you could say to the contrary.

“No, I want to know you. My feelings haven’t changed since that night, but I want you to feel the same.”

You let out a deep breath you weren’t aware you were holding. The short sentence is so simple, clear in meaning and intent. It’s… infuriating. A wave of something flowed over you in that moment, a realization like a bucket of ice water dousing you. You were shaking, your realized, but not with cold.

“You want to change my mind?” You whisper, cursing yourself for your inability to do much more in this conversation than to parrot his words, “You come to my home - unprompted, in fact, considering our last conversation, entirely unnecessarily - to what, exactly? Prove that I’m some prize to be won over by you? Come see how sorry my life is, see my sick mother and how I work my ass off at the tavern and here and think I’ll jump into your arms with some words? You must know that I wouldn’t go with you. Nor would I sit here waiting for you to return from the sea, hoping you’ll return for a few weeks every year and grace me with your presence and gold.”

You pause for air, realizing with horror that you were crying of all things. You quickly run your hands over your cheeks, glaring at Thenerius in a silent challenge, waiting for him to turn tail and run, “Now go.”

In yet another turn of seemingly endless events that should no longer have surprised you with how consistently they’ve been happening, Thenerius surprised you yet again.

“Well, this is awkward. I may have sent my men back south with my ship. I’m in need of room and board,” Thenerius said, and for the life of you, no matter how closely you examined his expression, you could not figure out what the hell he was thinking.

“Go to The Deep, then. I happen to be of the inside knowledge that there’s plenty of vacancies this time of year,” you said, brushing past the tiefling on your way back to your forgotten bucket of water, ready to escape this suffocating atmosphere.

“I don’t have enough gold for the length of time I’m planning on staying,” he replied.

“This is sounding more and more like your crew left you here and took the ship for themselves,” you deadpan, hefting the bucket up and carefully carrying it back towards the bathroom.

“My crew wouldn’t do that,” Thenerius’ voice suddenly turned serious, “I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t have come here if they had.”

“Well, unlucky me, then,” you grumble, “You’re still not staying here.”

“You’re very sarcastic,” Thenerius noted, and you prayed for his sake that the comment wasn’t a part of his vow to get to know the real you.

You disappear down the hall and into the bathroom, dumping the bucket into the basin. To your great relief, the water was still steaming.

“Wait, your pay!” Thenerius walked in behind you. You could tell the exact moment he realized where he was, quickly averting his eyes from you.

You roll your eyes. As if you would undress for any reason while he was still in the house.

“Please, you may have lied to my mother, but I’m no fool,” you snort, ignoring the outstretched hand to check the water, “Mr. Thistle would never trust a pirate with money, much less tell you where I live.”

“I’ll- come back later,” he says, turning to get out the room.

“No, you’re leaving,” you follow after him.

“Dear, it’s much to too late for him to ride, he can sleep here.” You and Thenerius both jump at your mother’s sudden appearance, both of you having forgotten that you were arguing right in front of the bedroom.

“But-” your protest is cut short when she only shakes her head, and you hope to Tova that she only caught the tail-end of your conversation with Thenerius.

“If you must, you can ride with him tomorrow to ask Aedan to give him a discount. Tomorrow.”

You run your hands down your face, glancing out the nearest window to confirm it was in fact dark out.

“Fine,” you sigh, pointing at Thenerius, “but you’re gone first thing tomorrow!”

Thenerius at least has the decency to not look too excited under your scrutiny, thanking your mother quietly.

“Go wash up, mom, it’s ready,” you inform her, moving away from the doorway so she can slip past.

You consider telling Thenerius to go last in the bath, but you’re covered in dried mud and animal shit and you weren’t going to have his tavern smell stinking up the sofa.

“You’re next,” you tell him, finally noticing how cramped the hallway was with two people in it. You push past him to to sit at the table again.

Thenerius followed you, keen to the fact that he was on thin ice and remained wisely silent as you waited for your mother to finish in the bathroom.

When she exited, dressed in her nightgown and hair wrapped tightly in a towel, you ushered Thenerius in, barely giving him time to grab his bag on the floor next to the chair he’d been sitting in when you first walked in. You enter close behind, going around him to grab a towel for him to use and quickly leaving him to his privacy, letting out the longest exhale of your life once the door shut behind you. You go back to the table and sit, trying not to think about the naked tiefling in your bathtub as you started the fire under the stove.

As soon as Thenerius stepped out of the bathroom with his bag in hand, you rush in, not making eye contact before you slam the door shut behind yourself.

The water is still somewhat lukewarm, and clear enough besides the murkiness from the soap. You think about literally anything else besides the fact that Thenerius had been in the same water just minutes before you, using the bowl to run water over your hair and quickly lathering the bar soap with a clean washcloth. The sooner you get out the better, you think.

It isn’t until you’re out of the bath and looking at your nightclothes that you realize you’re going to have to wear them in front of him, unless you change into clean day clothes just to change into them in the privacy of your bedroom later.

It’s just tonight, you tell yourself, he’ll be gone tomorrow. And why would you have to modify your routine for him? He’s the one intruding. It won’t be a big deal so lang as you act like it isn’t. It’s not like you’ll be prancing around naked. They’re your winter ones, the material made much thicker than the normal cotton.

Properly talked up,  you walk out, pretending not to notice how Thenerius stops mid-sentence in a conversation with your mother to stare at you like the moon herself descended in front of him.

“I’ll have dinner ready soon.” You mumble, not stopping until you were safely in the kitchen.

You take the last eight eggs and crack them onto the iron skillet sitting on the stove, immediately sizzling before you take a flat spoon to scramble and scrape them into three plates. You then add leftover cuts from a chicken you culled from your flock a week ago to the skillet to cook, already seasoned. Then, you took the stack of unleavened bread your mother made during the day while you worked before putting them on another flat slab of iron on the stove to warm them.

Once you had a sizable enough stack for three people, you wrapped the resulting unleavened bread in cloth and balanced the three plates in your arms and carried everything back into the dining area.

You had heard Thenerius and your mother sharing a hushed conversation through the walls, but weren’t able to make out any specifics. However, when thy both immediate hushed up once you entered, it was clear who the topic of their chat was.

You set down the plates, frowning once you realized you’d have to sit next to Thenerius, as it was only a four-person table and they were already sitting at opposite ends. Once you were seated, however, the dinner conversation was thankfully limited as everyone focused on their plates.

Then it was time for your mother to take her tablets, you watching carefully as she downed them with a cup of water.  She retired to the bedroom shortly after, and though she tried to make it seem as though she was solely doing it to give you and Thenerius some privacy, it was obvious she was drained of all energy as she slowly shuffled down the hall.

You ignore Thenerius and grab the plates, taking them to the kitchen to dump the scraps in the bin and be washed. Thenerius’ plate is practically clean already, but your mother’s is concerningly hardly touched at all.

Dunking the emptied plates plates in the half-full sink, you scrub vigorously. Just as you are about to place the first one on the rack to dry, however, Thenerius takes it from you and dries it with the dishtowel.

You decide to say nothing, simply handing him the next plate once he placed the previous one on the rack.

You bring Thenerius a stack of blankets, dumping them on the cot next to where he sat for him to assemble himself.

Just as you turn to leave, a hand falls on your shoulder and you immediately stiffen. It quickly retracts.

“I don’t need this many,” Thenerius says quietly, looking dejected when you look over your shoulder at him as he tries to hand you a few of the blankets back.

“You do,” you inform him, “we’re at a higher altitude. It’s going to get colder.”

Thenerius places them back on the pile, his mouth opening and then closing. You wait. Finally, he clears his throat, “Thank you, for dinner. And for letting me stay here.”

“Thank my mom,” you reply, “and don’t get used to it. I was serious when I said you’re gone tomorrow.”

After a moment, Thenerius smiles, small but hopeful, “not first thing?”

“You have to pay for the meal and bed,” you huff, turning back around and going into the bedroom, careful to be quiet as you cross the cottage so as to not wake your mother.

You make sure the door is shut securely, and for good measure, you stick a piece of paper in the gap between the top of the door and the frame. You don’t think you’ll be able to sleep with the knowledge of a stranger sleeping in the next room, but almost as soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re waking to the sound of the rooster crowing the next morning.

You sit up abruptly, your mother still asleep next to you. You swing your legs over the edge of the mattress and scurry to the door, the paper still in the same spot you placed it when you take it back down.

You open the door quietly and slip out, glancing around the corner at the end of the hall to the cot. On the side closest to you, the stack of blankets are folded neatly, Thenerius’ pack leaning against one of the cot’s legs.

Your eyebrows furrow, going back to make sure the bathroom was empty before checking the kitchen, seeing neither hide nor hair of Thenerius in the cottage. Before you go search outside for the tiefling, you decide to at least get the stove going to warm up the cottage. As you stand in the kitchen looking for the box of matches, you realize you can hear the familiar, rhythmic thumping of an axe hitting wood.

Glancing out the window, you see Thenerius at an old stump splitting firewood a few yards away, his coat off and hanging from a tree branch. He stops to brush his hair back, careful to avoid his horns, before continuing.

Against your better judgement, you study him from the safety of the indoors. The last time you’d seen him, it had been shaved close. He apparently grew it out since then, dark waves forming curls around the nape of his neck that you’d noticed when he first arrived at the deep and now was sticking to his scalp with sweat.

As the sun broke over the horizon and illuminated the clearing, you could see how Thenerius’ back muscles flexed under the fabric of his shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose his thick forearms. Obviously, as a pirate, he would have to be at least somewhat fit. Hell, you’d felt them whenever he would insist you touch his arm while he flexed or would pull you into his lap.

But none of that quite prepared you for how he would look without the barrier of his coat, how he likely looked working out at sea.

You force your eyes back to the task at hand before they can venture downwards, finally finding the matches and lighting one with shaking hands before lighting the scrap of paper and tossing both into the stove.

Shutting the door and opening the grate, you return to the bedroom to change into your day clothes.

You immediately regret stepping outside as soon as you do, the light of the sun doing little to warm the icy air rushing inside your lungs and burning against your skin. Still, you are determined as you march around the cottage to where Thenerius continues to split the pieces of wood, though the pile of wood that took you months to chop down and cut into sections was now nearly gone and a neat stack of his split pieces had taken its place.

“I noticed you were running low,” Thenerius calls out as you approach, smiling as your eyes met his.

“It’s fine,” you huff, Thenerius’ smile brightening as though you just extended him the best praise of his life.

Annoyance bubbled in your stomach. Did he think he was cute? Acting like a love-struck teen and not a Tova-damned pirate? Or did he think you would be tricked by the illusion he put forth if he played pretend enough?

“Hurry up and finish that. There’s more work to do before breakfast,” you mutter, turning towards the barn as he would no doubt be crestfallen as you continue, “Then we’re going to The Deep.”

You go back to the kitchen briefly to grab the scrap bin before going to the chicken coop, making sure to latch the screen door behind you. You drop the scraps at the center of the enclosure, the chickens running over each other in a clucking mass of feathers and beating wings in their attempt to get at the food first. A few even manage to steal a few morsels before the more dominant ones chase them off.

Once the nesting area was empty, you went over and started collecting eggs in the same bin. Only six today, and you cooked the last of them in storage for dinner the night before. You worry your bottom lip, looking at the flock.

There were five hens and the rooster. You had been planning to let them breed in the spring to bring their numbers up, but that was still a long ways away.

You glanced over at the goats, currently in the pasture with the horses. You had two bucks and eight does. You had sold off the kids of four of the does, leaving you with five kids, three males. There was still the cured meat you got from the storehouse the other day, so you wouldn’t have to do anything drastic for food just yet, but it wouldn’t last soon at your current rate.

You had been planning on buying rabbits to raise for meat and fur, but you hadn’t been able to find the time to finish the winter hutch that was still partially completed in the barn.

Then you thought about everything else you had to do soon - castrate the three kids, patch the barn roof, harvest the second pasture’s grass and dry it for hay… and it seemed like every day you found something that needed repairing or replacing.

But… if Thenerius does plan on staying, you just may be able to keep everything afloat for the time being. With him there to collect the eggs and milk the goats while you worked shifts at the deep, then- appalled that you were planning ahead as though you would allow Thenerius to stay for months on end with you. No, you survived the last winter without any help, you could do the same this year.

Letting out a sigh, you dropped the eggs off in the kitchen before going back to the barn to wrap the horses snugly in blankets and let them out to graze in the pasture connected to the barn.

By that point, Thenerius comes to find you. You were admittedly surprised he’d finished that quickly, soaked with sweat and breathing heavily as he told you he was finished. You had even gone to check, not quite able to believe he’d gone through the entire wood pile that fast, or at least correctly. He looked proud when you peer up at him, but you refuse to praise him, directing him instead to the pasture while you grab two pails from the barn.

After showing him how to milk the does, you quickly fill about two pail's worth of milk between you from the four kidless does.

After taking the milk to the small pasteurizer in the barn, you set about making breakfast.

After taking the milk to the small pasteurizer in the barn, you and Thenerius returned to the cottage, your mother already up and standing by the stove.

You waste no time getting breakfast ready, making the six eggs you collected and take out the smoked meat. You make up two plates, setting them down in front of the two.

“I’ll be back soon,” you tell your mother, gripping her shoulder for a moment, “Don’t forget to take your medicine.”

“I’ve been taking it for three years, I don’t need you reminding all the time, you know,” your mother huffed, but she still pressed a kiss to the top of your head and waving you off.

“You aren’t going to eat?” Thenerius asked, thankfully swallowing his mouthful before speaking.

“I ate a couple boiled eggs while I cooked,” you reply, “clean the dishes after you’re done. We’ll go to The Deep afterwards.”

Grabbing your purse and heading to the barn, you click your tongue at the door leading out to the pasture, grabbing his saddle as your horse neighs loudly and nearly trampling over Thenerius’ horse in his attempt to get to you.

Any attempts on your part to name the capricious animal had been in vain, as he only ever responded to the sound of a clicking tongue, what your mother called him over to eat. It explained why he was fatter than a pregnant mare when you got here, unridden and getting fat on the lush pasture to himself and the treats.

Horse, as you’d taken to referring to him in your head, shoved his face into your hands, sticking your entire hand into his mouth in search of treats. You fish out a peeled hard-boiled egg from your pocket, the treat disappearing from your hand before you can even unfurl your fingers, Horse chewing it down quickly. Thenerius’ horse ventures over once she realizes you have food, and you have to press an open palm against Horse’s face to keep him from snatching the second egg you pull out before she can gently take it from you.

“Are those the eggs you ‘ate’?” You jump as Thenerius suddenly appears next to you, and you glare at him for sneaking up at you.

“I need to bribe him to come over and let me saddle him,” you said, neither confirming or denying the tiefling’s accusation, “he’ll be angry the entire ride otherwise.”

“Why didn’t you eat?” Thenerius presses, his eyes never leaving you as you unpin Horse’s blanket and refold it, throwing it over his back before securing his saddle on top.

“There wasn’t enough,” you shrug, climbing onto Horse’s back and pressing your legs momentarily into his side to get him to start walking.

You’re almost to the main road when you hear Thenerius pull up beside you.

“You should have taken mine,” he says after a moment.

You sigh. Clearly, wanting a nice, quiet stroll into town was too much to ask for, “Our horse is fine. He needs the exercise, anyways.”

“Not the horse, the food,” Thenerius said, actually sounding irate with you, “if there wasn’t enough you should have eaten mine.”

You bite back a laugh. You’ve heard Thenerius actually angry before, yelling at his crew members when one shoved another into a table in the tavern and broke it.

He’d been absolutely furious then, scaring even you with how his red eyes burned like hot coals, his face darkening to what you assumed to be an unhealthy purple-blue color as he nearly came to blows with the offenders. That feared pirate captain now reprimanded you like a child.

��Please, it’s one meal,” you snort, “I had plenty while I was working.”

“You shouldn’t skip meals,” he insisted, drawing close to your side to look down at you sternly, “You’re going to still be working the rest of the day after this, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes and snap your reins, Horse speeding up to a canter and leaving Thenerius behind. The journey was familiar to you both, and you don’t even need to provide the horse with direction as he follows the twists and turns of the winding path with a sure foot.

You just want to hurry and reach The Deep, collect your pay, dump Thenerius on them and then go to Alfore to meet with the doctor about your mother.

You reach The Deep before Thenerius, tying Horse to a post outside the stables and making a beeline inside with barely contained excitement.

When you enter the tavern, Lenora is the only one in. Her welcoming smile quickly shrinks into a sheepish one once she sees you, however, turning on one heel to head straight towards the inn portion of the building.

Your eyes narrow, making a detour from Mr. Thistle’s office to go after her. You had an inkling as to what that was all about, and you couldn’t help but need to confirm it.

Your hand falls onto her shoulder and grips it tight, yanking her back just before she can abscond up the steps.

“Where are you going?” You ask, putting on a pleasant smile for the few patrons at the bar as you steer her down the hall to the privacy of the storage room, once an office.

“Please don’t kill me - he tricked me into telling!” Lenora begged for mercy immediate, clasping both hands in front of her.

“I highly doubt that,” you cross your arms, raising an eyebrow and waiting for her to try again.

Lenora had always been something of a romantic, constantly falling for one sweet gesture after another and declaring someone her ‘soulmate’ every few months. If she caught wind of Thenerius’ proposal, of course she’d think it was fine to play matchmaker. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to make her sweat to teach her a lesson.

“Ok, but my intentions were good!” She pleaded, shaking your arm, “I mean, he obviously loves you, so I thought if he saw how you were living, you could get him to give you enough money for your mom!”

Your eyes widen, anger draining from your face and replaced with hurt, “so you told a stranger where I live, where my mother lives, so I could get him to feel sorry for me and bankroll my expenses? What else would I do, hm? Let him sleep with me for an allowance?”

Lenora realized her mistake too late, unable to backtrack as you spun around and left the room. You walk straight past Mr. Thistle’s office, too distraught to think about what you came here to do.

You untie Horse and quickly mount him, spurring him to go forward.

“Please don’t be angry! I didn’t mean you would do anything like that, I just wanted to help you-” you snap the reins twice to get Horse to a gallop.

“Are you okay?” You think Thenerius calls out, but you pay him no time as you race past, reaching the main road in no time and heading down the straight path to Alfore.

Your breathing is erratic as you try to get a handle on the unfamiliar emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. Perhaps in the past, you would have acted out in anger, lashed out at Lenora for the insult implied.

Now, however, you’re just tired. Worn out from two years of being back in this shithole, struggling to make ends meet, doing whatever you could. And because of that, your own coworker - someone you thought of as a friend, even - believed you to be so unscrupulous in your need for money that you’d take advantage of someone’s emotions for your own ends.

The worst part is, you were tempted. Tempted to step back. Tempted to let someone else take the reins. Tempted to use Thenerius’ misguided feelings for you to your advantage.

Had this what you’d been reduced to, from academic work to flirting shamelessly with customers to line your pockets? Do things your mother never did even when she was doing the same job, running the homestead, and saving money for you to move to the capital for your schooling?

So, at the end of your rapid-fire cycling through the stages of grief, you have no desire to fight Lenora over her true thoughts about you, nor do you wish to turn on Thenerius for the way he’s crashed into your life. You don’t qualify every action you ever did out of necessity or lay bare the fact that you were actually embarrassed by them. You don’t try to separate yourself from your choices by bringing up your past life or hard work. You simply loathe yourself for it.

Without your constant commands, Horse slows to a trot. You allow it, not wanting him to get hurt because of you. However, you soon regret your decision as you hear hooves charging up to you from behind.

You pull over to the side of the road, praying that whoever it was just passed you by. Of course, you had no such luck, the other horse slowing down next to you and Thenerius looking down at you with a concerned expression.

You say nothing and you don’t bother trying to outrun him, resigned to the fact that you wouldn’t be shaking him anytime soon.

“It wasn’t her fault,” he said once it was clear you weren’t speaking, drawing your sulking expression to point directly at him, “I pressured her to tell me where to find you.”

“Why are you still here?” You ask instead, exasperated and unwilling to have a conversation with him of all people about what happened between you and Lenora.

“I told you, my feelings for you haven’t changed,” Thenerius said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Even if I allow you to stay, it would only be to use you,” you argue, “you could work for months and waste your time if I never change my mind. Doesn’t that make you angry?”

“No,” he replied, a warm smile adorning his face as he looked at you, “because you said if.”

You blink dumbly as he spurs his horse forward, leaving you to catch up.

part 3

[cattles-bians]

exes au part 14

post directory

obsetress:

obsetress: viola

em: holy shit

em: i think viola could hold a truly ridiculous number of things in her hands

em: danis like i have a little fanny pack right here- and violas like (turns up nose) absolutely not

obsetress: pre therapy viola during her relationship w dani: buys dani a birkin too, is like "here baby, so you don't have to use that fanny pack"

obsetress: dani's like "oh. i, um. like my fanny pack"

obsetress: viola therapy era after her relationship with dani: buys her a hermes fanny pack instead

obsetress: jamie rolls her eyes but dani is literally

em: i think a lot abt viola offering solutions completely unprompted n then being really offended when ppl dont take her up on it

em: pre therapy obvs

obsetress: SAME

obsetress: oh link is gross

obsetress: cost is grosser

obsetress: but viola lloyd dropping $2550 on a fanny pack for her ex gf? chefs kiss

---

obsetress: ok just remembered viola slouching or leaning or w/e n like

obsetress: brain practically applying that to exes au and imagining when and where she'd slouch n everyone's reactions to htat

obsetress: bc like she has perfect posture but when she chooses to do it it's a power move

obsetress: and i. hm

em: yeah

obsetress: viola sitting up stock straight when they first get to brunch and as soon as she's ordered her bloody mary shes pulling off her sunglasses and dropping them on the table and just sinking back

em: how to phrase this w/o sounding too much like a whore

em: actually no way to say this but like i feel v strongly abt the way we make women take up less space wrt to knees together calves touching type deal and i think maybe

em: maybe viola can manspread a bit as a treat

em: hate that term but i cant think of a better one

obsetress: nah she does n it's hot

obsetress: just had this image pre divorce of viola and arthur at marriage counseling on opp ends of the couch n arthur's sitting v tight close and vi is just

obsetress: leaning and spreading a lil

obsetress: the first time jamie sees her do it she's so taken aback

obsetress: because she's NOT expecting it

em: jamies like ah ok late in life lesbian deal and then jokes on her viola is fluent in dyke slouch

obsetress: jamie immediately trying to suss out just how long viola has been fucking women

obsetress: she says to dani later "i thought she was all proper like" and dani's like "she is" and jamie's like "so wot was that then" and dani's like "well, people are gay, jamie,"

em: ghfjhgljkJFDASJKKJFGA

em: jamies like so wait how long HAS viola been

obsetress: jamie: so you were vi's first serious girlfriend right? dani: dani: jamie: right???????

em: violas been fucking women longer than jamie has lbr

em: i mean shes clearly only 35, jamie,

obsetress: jamie: so... vi... viola: hm? jamie: you're, uh, gay, right? viola: obviously jamie: right. well dani told me you've been dating women since–– viola: since i was 15, yes jamie: but you married a man

em: violas like u went to jail everyone does stupid shit occasionally

em: jamie: so how long have you been dating women viola: since i was 15 jamie: no i meant like. in years viola raises her eyebrows and jamies just like haha nevermind fuck

obsetress: she tried!

obsetress: she tried

em: jamie on her 35th birthday pencilling 'many happy returns' into violas ????th 35th birthday card

em: yknow i think

em: i think something's afoot

obsetress: jamie, giving up on the direct approach

obsetress: slipping in next to rebecca at the wine bar

obsetress: "becca"

obsetress: "hi, jamie" "hi. how old is your girlfriend"

em: am fucking losing it thinking abt jamie like. realising how much gay energy viola has

em: like taken ABACK

obsetress: fksljfLKSDJFLJ

obsetress: just like

obsetress: why are jamies reactions to viola so funny

obsetress: montage of jamie realizing how much gay energy viola has

obsetress: jamie watching viola sitting

obsetress: jamie watching viola pick up a variety of glasses and mugs

obsetress: jamie watching viola compare hand sizes with dani, jamie's girlfriend and viola's ex girlfriend who she dated for literal years and whose hand size she definitely already knows

em: NOT THE HAND SZIES

em: they go for a walk and viola immediately complains about the sun and jamie's like

em: i have a spare hat but ur not gonna like it

em: its a snapback that says daddy or smthn in gold, owen got it for jamie for her bday, jamie Loathes it

obsetress: BYE

obsetress: viola looks better in it than jamie does

em: jamie has that

em: am i attracted to viola? moment

em: it passses

em: she has already compartmentalised the weird psychosexual power play

em: queen of compartmentalising

obsetress: jamie: had another one of those moments today dani: what moments? jamie: where i thought i might be attracted to vi dani: well, you did let her fuck you... what was it, four? times in one night, so

em: jamie; yeah but like that aside

em: jamie 'thats neither here nor there' taylor

obsetress: she is the queen of compartmentalizing tho

em: i was gonna be like. 'jamies like wait i dont remember saying four' but. i think she would tell dani

em: because the flip of that is dani callin up vi n i dont think she would necessarily

obsetress: i think she would and dani would make her anyway

obsetress: well make her is harsh but

obsetress: dani would very curiously ask in very convincing ways

em: lovingly coax it out of her

em: dani: what if i fucked you four times in o

obsetress: dani: let me do five

em: viola probably wears so many rings jamie doesn’t even clock the ever present thumb ring

obsetress: jamie just. writes it all off

em: am laughing abt like. viola v meticulously taking off every single ring and putting it in its proper location before...

obsetress: there is something. so hot about that

obsetress: im gonna scream i think

em: i was just meming and now im thinking abt it and

em: truly played myself

em: actually this is me refusing to unpack whatever the hell theo crain gloves made me feel

obsetress: sdkfmsldjfa

obsetress: fair

em: sublimate it into rings

obsetress: i just like um

obsetress: thinkin about when she and dani are together and like

obsetress: it's intentional and everything has its place but vi also makes a show out of it

obsetress: and like

obsetress: she's SO painstaking about it and definitely makes dani wait a little bit and

em: helps dani outta her big ass earrings

em: i mean dani doesnt even Need the help

em: viola meticulous lloyd

em: i mean she just wears so much goddamn jewellry

obsetress: she can tell when dani's getting impatient and goes even slower

em: viola has like

em: viola is one of thos ppl thats really into expensive watches

obsetress: !!!!!!

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: nice lil canon nod too

em: she drags dani to antique auctions n danis like i cant. actually tell the difference between the real and the forgery and violas like (passionately explains it for like 30 minutes) and dani is

em: like shes mentally checked out but also v intensely watching violas hands as she points to the parts of the watch

em: rebecca gets it tho

em: rebecca Gets It

obsetress: dani shoving vi into the bathroom at the auction house and tugging vi's hand between her legs v rebecca grabbing her own auction paddle and bidding against viola for the same watch

obsetress: (rebecca n vi fuck in the car on the ride home)

em: dani grabs a paddle n mimes spanking viola n then the auctioneer is like '$250 to 201' and danis like aw Fcuk

em: violas like i cant take u Anywhere

obsetress: dani gives her the 🥺😌and viola's immediately over it and pulling out $250

obsetress: dani: i didn't even want it, i was just–– vi: i know dani: what am i even gonna do with a–– vi: i'll sell it for $500 at a private auction next week dani: so technically i'm making you money dani, grinning: it's like i'm your employee dani: do you have any more assignments for me, boss? vi: dani get your hand out of my pocket i need to focu––

[soundwavefucker69]

a casual observance of the apocalypse

There’s an old man in line. He’s got laugh lines around his eyes and a disposable medical mask on his face. He’s clutching a bottle of laundry detergent like it’s the last shred of dignity he’s got, and you can hear keys and coins jingle in his pockets with every step. His shoulders are a little bowed, but not enough for the girl in the floral mask to notice.

She’s got gray joggers with old stains on the knees and a pink Army jacket that’s seen better days. There’s a crop top under her jacket, bright and floral, with bunnies peeking out of leaves, and her hair is shorn close to her head in a way that can’t be anything but a woman who isn’t one to let men run their fingers through it to soothe her. In fact, from the pin on her lapel, she’s not the type to let men do much of anything, and if she didn’t look so lost under that floral face mask, I’d think her adorable. It would be difficult not to; she’s juggling about six different items and trying to peel four twenty ounce bottles of soda out of the little fridge at the front of my aisle.

“Looks like you just got here in time,” the old man says, friendly and bright, like he’s talking to a girl that reminds him of a granddaughter he hasn’t seen in quite some time. “I haven’t moved in five minutes.”

“What?” The girl says, distracted but not rude as she struggles with the door and the plethora of things she really should have gotten a basket for.

“The line. You got here when it’s about to move,” he says, patient, understanding, because she looks stressed and he’s a little lonely.

“Oh!” She says, and lets out a tremulous laugh as she gives up and waits until she can get to a spot where she can set down her things. “Yeah, I think so. I’m sorry you’ve been waiting.”

Silence passes for a few minutes as I try to ring up the mountains of Christmas gear. People always wait until the last possible minute to get their wrapping paper and presents and bags and bows. It’s a chronic affliction of the human psyche: procrastination. The woman in front of me I’m only half paying attention to either has a lot of adults she’s living with, or I should be thankful for the piece of cloth over my face, because it’s beginning to look like quarantine for her is only a polite suggestion. I don’t say as much, of course.

“Maybe this wasn’t the right line,” the girl, young woman, perhaps, finally says, and the man turns to look at her again, a laugh falling off his lips that makes me wonder if he just has the humor of an easily appeased puppy, or he’s just that lonely and in need of a pretty girl in a floral mask to pay attention to him.

“Yeah, it probably wasn’t,” he agrees, and the girl pauses, uncomfortable, eyes a little unfocused.

“My roommate is a diabetic,” she says, unprompted, and my eyes are drawn to the top ramen and animal cookies and more-sugar-than-flavor generic candy orange slices taking up residence in her overburdened arms. “She starts her new job tomorrow, but...”

The unsaid goes there: we have no money.

“Ah. Bottoming out backups?” The man asks, and she nods, helplessly. Something in his shoulders eases, like he’s coming home, and he nods. “My wife.”

“I don’t start my new job until next month,” she blurts, and then laughs, a little high, a little shrill, and I catch myself wondering just how close she is to crying. There’s a tremor in her legs, and her hands are tightening on plastic wrap so it crinkles in her grasp, a repetitive noise like she’s trying to soothe herself. “She doesn’t get paid for two weeks. We don’t have much food left and this is the last of my EBT and the food ban---”

The filthy, taboo words are cut short, and I preoccupy myself with wrapping paper and bells for a tree that should already be decorated. I know what she means; the food bank has had less and less and less food lately. At least, the one you can walk to from here.

“Covid got you, too?” He asks, gently, and there’s real pain in his voice, like covid got someone else that looked an awful lot like her.

“Yeah,” she says, breathless and terrified, and the man nods in sympathy.

“Me, too,” he says, like he should be working at his age at all, and the girl clutches her groceries closer to her chest, impossibly young. I wonder if this is her first financial crisis as an adult. It has to be. With the mask, I don’t know if she’s late teens or early twenties, but she’s around there somewhere.

“I was working at a pharmacy tech, and so was she, but she’s got diabetes and I’ve got Crohn’s and together we’re a mess of---” She cuts herself off again, a mess of emotion she’s trying to hide under polite conversation, like she hadn’t admitted to being immunocompromised in a pandemic. Maybe admitting it will make it real. I don’t know.

“Yeah? What are you doing now?” He prompts, and she actually, really laughs at that, like the world is insane and she’s just seeing it.

“Contact tracing for covid,” she spits out, like covid is a primordial god and she’s got a sword and a death wish. “Kinda funny that I lost my job because of covid and now my next job can only happen because of it. At least it’s not like the insurance job. All I gotta do is tell them they need to take a test. I don’t have to tell them we’re not covering their chemo anymore.”

I wonder how desperate you have to be to work the kinds of jobs she does with a disease like that. Or maybe she’s just a spiteful little beast. It’s hard to see the spite right now. It’s all desperation wrapped up in a pink jacket and grease stained joggers that look like they’ve been tossed on the floor of a mechanic’s shop.

“Yeah? I bet it’s real easy to get hired for that sort of thing,” the man says, maybe a little wistfully, and she shakes her head no.

“No, I was scouted. You can’t even find the listing. You need a fingerprint clearance card just to be considered, and they’re, like, a hundred dollars. I don’t even know how they found my info.” She sounds calm about that, but then again, it’s 2020. Things like resumes and phone numbers aren’t private, haven’t been since... Well, who knows who bought what politician first? Floral mask girl doesn’t care, and neither do I.

The woman takes her receipt, and the skin around floral mask girl’s eyes bunch up, like she’s trying to smile. The man sets his laundry detergent in front of me, carefully counts his change, and gives her his own skin scrunched around his eyes as I ring him up and give him his receipt.

“Well, good luck with the contact tracing,” he says, kind, immeasurably kind, and it’s a miracle he is as calm as he is, because all I can think is it’s an unnerving sort of thing to talk to someone you’ll never meet again who just needs one unlucky day to die.

“Good luck with your laundry,” she says as she juggles out her sodas and sets them on the till.

The old man leaves, his shoulders tightening with every step he walks away from human contact, and the girl looks at me with eyes threatening to water.

“Do you take EBT?” She asks, and I give her a warm smile, the warmest I can, and nod.

“Yeah. We take EBT.”

[littlespoonevan]

okay this took me forever bc i could not for the life of me think of a tattoo to cover up ian’s  that was actually like. nice but also relevant to monica (bc despite my feelings about her i don’t want to take that sentiment away). i’m happy with the one i chose though so hopefully you like it too <33

(quick reminder: i’m not accepting anymore prompts at the moment while i work on the ones in my inbox <3)

*

Ian is standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom brushing his hair back out of his face with a comb when he hears the water cut off in the shower. A moment later he’s on the receiving end of a damp side hug as Mickey winds the hand not holding up his towel around Ian’s waist to balance himself while he leans in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Mm hey,” Mickey greets warmly and Ian pauses in his ministrations to smile at him in the mirror.

Dropping his comb, he turns and settles his hands on Mickey’s shoulders, absently massaging the divot of space beneath Mickey’s collarbones with his thumbs. “Hey. You doin’ anything today?”

He knows Mickey has the day off and days off for Mickey – especially rare weekday ones – usually result in him not surfacing from bed until at least 11:00 before he has a late breakfast and parks himself on the couch for the rest of the day. But today he’s already up and showered and it’s not even 10am. The way Mickey ducks his head when he asks the question also suggests he does have something on.

Which is a little weird – if only because Ian also has the day off since he’s changing rotation from days to nights this week.

“I, uh, I’ve got an appointment in a couple hours,” Mickey says evasively and Ian frowns.

Mickey only ever talks like this when his dad’s involved and Ian will shoot Terry himself if he’s after getting Mickey caught up in his shit again. “What kind of appointment?” he asks, not sure if he really wants to hear the answer.

Mickey must be able to tell where Ian’s mind goes though because he looks up and rolls his eyes. “A real appointment, dumbass,” he says. “At a tattoo parlour.”

Ian instantly feels himself relax and lets go of Mickey to put his comb back in the medicine cabinet next to his morning meds. “You getting a new tattoo?”

Mickey doesn’t answer right away and when he does the words are mumbled at a barely audible volume. “Fixing one actually.”

Ian pauses, turning around to face Mickey again. Mickey’s busying himself with tightening the towel around his waist, pointedly not looking in Ian’s direction. Ian takes the time to let his eyes drop to the tattoo sitting on Mickey’s chest before he steps forward again, brushing his fingers over Mickey’s forearm and coaxing his arms away from his torso. “Mick.”

Mickey looks up at him, letting Ian pull his arms around his waist and releasing a sigh that comes out more resigned than bashful. “Guess I figured since you’re stickin’ around I should probably make it look the way it’s supposed to.”

Ian smiles even though his heart squeezes a little painfully in his chest. He hates that he ever made Mickey doubt the fact he would stay. He reaches up, running the fingers of his left hand over his name. He does it on purpose so Mickey will see the wedding ring and remember. This is forever now. “Can I come with you?” he asks, looking up from Mickey’s chest to meet his gaze.

“Why?” Mickey says, shrugging like he doesn’t care but Ian can tell he probably does. “The guy said it shouldn’t take that long.”

“Well, if we’re in a fixing tattoos kinda mood maybe I should do something about the one on my back.”

Mickey’s face twists into a familiar grimace at the mention of the obnoxious boobs on Ian’s shoulder before going slack with surprise. “You’re gonna cover it up?”

It’s Ian’s turn to shrug. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I mean, I know Monica’d probably find it hilarious but it’s ugly as shit.”

Mickey snorts at that, a sort of no arguments from me, pal!

“And I’ve finally got enough money put away to afford to get something big enough to cover it. I could call and see if they can fit me in too?”

Mickey considers him for a moment before his mouth ticks up at the corners and his hands squeeze Ian’s hips. “Guess we got a date, Gallagher.”

*

They’re led into separate rooms when they get there. Mickey had already had a consultation but Ian hadn’t, not to mention the fact Ian’s is a significantly longer job than Mickey’s. He likes the idea he came up with though.

He’d started thinking about cover ups almost from the minute he’d gotten the tattoo but not only had it been too expensive, he’d also had no fucking idea what to get. He still wants it to be something for her because no matter how fucked up things got and no matter what she’s done, he still misses her. But as time passed the more he’d started to think maybe he wanted it to mean a little more than that too.

In the end he’d settled on something that he thought fit for both of them.

He’s had a general picture of what he’s wanted for a while now and when he shows it to the tattoo artist – Benny, his nametag says – he sketches a couple of his own mock-ups for Ian to choose from. It’s gonna take a couple of hours so he texts Mickey while Benny is prepping his shoulder and tells him he doesn’t need to hang around for him if he doesn’t want to.

Mickey texts him back a succinct, “Whatever, Gallagher,” and that’s the end of that until Mickey texts him again approximately forty-five minutes later, saying, “I’m gonna go get lunch, want me to bring you back something?”

Ian buries his smile against his arm where he’s got it braced in front of him in the chair and tries to remain completely still as he texts back.

Ian: My usual. Thank you <3

Mickey: Whatever

Mickey: <3

*

Mickey takes his time, obviously choosing to eat his own lunch at the mall and kill some time so Ian’ll be almost done by the time he comes back to the tattoo parlour. Ian hears the bell jangle above the door in the main room about five minutes before Benny finally sits back and says, “Okay, you’re all set.”

Ian relaxes in the chair before he remembers he hasn’t seen it yet. He extricates himself from the awkward position he’d been in for the past few hours and makes his way to mirror in the corner of the room, turning around and craning his neck. He catches sight of the corner of it before Benny appears next to him with a handheld mirror so he can get a better look.

It’s perfect.

Sure enough, Mickey’s waiting for him when he comes onto the main shop floor, lunch in hand, and Ian flashes him an affectionate smile before he goes up to the counter to pay.

Other than Mickey asking him again what he got and Ian telling him he’ll show him when they get home they don’t talk about their tattoos on the way home. Not that Ian can really think of much else – he’d been so anxious about covering up his own tattoo, he’d forgotten why they’d even come here in the first place. What Mickey did.

It’s a lot to process – the level of devotion that tattoo shows.

It’d felt like someone had taken a knife to Ian’s own chest when he’d first seen it. Like a giant declaration of all the ways Ian had fucked Mickey up. Now though, now Ian feels it for what it is. Unconditional love.

By some unspoken agreement they both head straight up the stairs when they get back to the house, following each other into the bedroom and closing the door behind them. When they’re stood face to face beside the bed Ian finally opens his mouth to speak.

“You first,” he requests quietly, the moment feeling oddly intimate as Mickey glances down, shrugging off his jacket before reaching for his t-shirt.

Ian watches with rapt attention as he pulls his shirt over his head, eyes zeroing in on Mickey’s chest as soon as he lets his arms fall back to his sides again. There’s tape over it but Ian can still see it clear as day. He lets out a breath and steps closer, fingers hovering above the letters. The extra “l” fits in seamlessly and other than the “h” being a little on the small side in order to make it fit, you’d never know it wasn’t there in the first place.

Ian looks up to find Mickey staring off to the side, a faint splotch of colour on his cheeks, and Ian bites down on a smile, carefully turning Mickey’s chin back towards him. “I love you,” he says softly, darting in to steal a kiss. It’s enough to make Mickey relax and lean into him, which is all Ian had wanted really.

“Alright, your turn,” Mickey says when he pulls back. “Enough with the secrecy bullshit.”

Ian huffs a laugh but obligingly steps back and pulls on the hem of his t-shirt. Once he gets it over his head he tosses it on the bed and turns around, feeling oddly nervous for Mickey’s reaction.

Mickey doesn’t say anything right away but after a beat Ian feels the gentle pressure of Mickey’s fingertips right around the outline of the tape and he knows what Mickey sees. A compass with a rope intricately woven around it.

“I wanted something for Monica but I wanted it to be for me too,” Ian explains, unprompted. He turns to face Mickey again and finds him watching him carefully, like he’s trying to work something out.

“I felt really fucking lost for a long time after everything that happened,” he continues quietly. It’s hard to look Mickey in the eye but he forces himself to anyway. “And I know I kinda have a habit of running away from my problems but…I always want to come home. To my family. To you.”

Mickey’s throat bobs at the last part, hands twitching for a moment at his sides before they reach up to land on Ian’s shoulders. “What’s it got to do with your mom?”

Ian gives him a half-hearted smile. “I looked it up; Monica means advisor.” He lets out bemused laugh, shaking his head. “She’s- She didn’t give me good advice,” he says seriously because if nothing else he wants to remind Mickey that he knows Monica played some role in their relationship ending all those years ago. “I know that now but- she did show me what I didn’t want my life to become.”

Mickey nods, expression softening like he understands.

“And…she was lost too,” Ian adds, blowing out a breath. “I don’t think she ever had anyone like you to remind her she had something worth coming back to.”

Mickey stares at him for a moment, a myriad of expressions flickering across his face before he cups Ian’s cheek. “She could’ve come back for you,” he says solemnly and Ian smiles, covering Mickey’s hand with his own.

“I know,” he murmurs. “We were never enough to make her stay though.” Ian presses his forehead against Mickey’s. “You make me want to stay.”

Mickey doesn’t say anything to that, just draws him into a kiss filled with surety and love. Ian wraps his arms around him and kisses back, pouring everything he has into it. Because really, in a lot of ways, Mickey should probably be the one with the compass tattoo considering all the times he’s managed to make his way back to Ian right when he’d needed him.

But he likes it. The past couple of years he feels like he’s found himself again. And in doing that he found Mickey again.

And he’s never, ever letting him go.

*

[oops-prow-did-it-again]

hi I’d just like to say that inflicting random strangers with “I’ll lose my job!” or “I’m starving” or something like this is Not Cool

true story: was waiting at Ch*potle for a D**rD*sh order. They’re SUPER busy. Like, line out the door busy. I have an awesome delivery offer so Im fine to chill and wait. Lady that’s been waiting since before I arrived starts to get annoyed after 30m passes and hers isn’t up and she’s like “look, I could lose my JOB.”

First of all. First of all. NO YOU COULDN’T.

1) If you hit “arrived at store,” the clock essentially stops for you right then. While you are at the store, time is yours. Unless you act a total fool and blatantly make it obvious you’re just wasting time (i.e., spending 2 hours at the store when it’s 2pm on a Monday), you will NEVER get a contract violation for waiting for your order. Ever ever ever.

2) The ONLY time you are eligible for contract violations is while DRIVING. If it takes you 15-20m longer than what D**rD*sh thinks it should for you to arrive and pick up the order, or 15-20m longer than what the app thinks it should take you to take the food from the store to the customer, THEN you may get a violation.

3) IT’S SO MEAN TO TELL A MINIMUM WAGE FAST FOOD WORKER THAT YOU MAY LOSE YOUR JOB BECAUSE OF THEM. THEY!! CANNOT!! MAKE!! THE STORE!! MOVE FASTER!!! THEY CANNOT!! MAKE!! THE LINE!! SHORTER!!!

It is just CRUEL. And you are a vile class traitor if you’re going to work D**rD*sh then bitch out customer service workers!!

Similarly. I realize people are desperate right now. I’ve watched homeless populations spring up around my neighborhoods. But here’s the thing, loves- I’m basically homeless too. If it weren’t for my family assisting me, I WOULD be homeless. There is no if, and, or doubt about it. So, homeless people giving me their life story unprompted, knocking on my window after I specifically roll it up to avoid the confrontation at all, etc- it’s. not. cool. I’m *sorry* your situation sucks. I really, really am. But I am just me. I’m a 20-year-old gay trans dude that has practically nothing to his name. I don’t even HAVE cash 98% of the time. If you ask and someone says no, tacking on your life story or “I’m really hungry tonight” or something of that effect is not going to magically make me create money out of thin air.

It just makes me feel awful that I can’t help you!!!

And look. I know what you’re thinking. “yeah and how do you think they feel about being HOMELESS or STARVING??” and I know. I know I know I know I know it’s awful.

Idk this is a rant more than anything. I’m just frustrated. I’m just frustrated that no matter what I do I barely make enough to pay for the mediocre bills I have and trying to find a job that won’t pay me WORSE than what I already have is somehow a monumental task.

I went to ask a pizza shop for a driver application and they told me it was $5/hr + tips.

...I make $10.75/hr or higher on D**rD*sh. Yeah, a significant amount of that goes to cost of car maintenance, so it’s closer to $8.25/hr - but.... $5/hr+ tips?? And only like... 8-16hr a week?? I can’t guarantee that will be better or worth it at all! In fact I’m pretty sure it’s NOT. Also on D**rD*sh I can just quit and go home whenever I’m having a really shit day or if my back starts to kill me. Meanwhile these bitches expect me to work for peanuts and change and probably won’t work with me at all whenever I’m having bad brain or back days??

nah fuck that.

tired of this shit man