#they both will hire me to do something then say they don't have enough money at the time to pay me

[scum-belina]

My granny royally ripped me off this month on paying me for cleaning her house and other chores and errands she didn't want to do, and less than a week later has the nerve to ask me for money so she could buy some Valium. This is the quality of family I have.

[certified-bi]

Okay all my thoughts because some people have been saying that not supporting this change is not supporting artist and creators and as an artist fuck that.

1. Audiences owe you nothing. You have to convince them to engage with your creation not the other way around. This is something both the nonprofit theatre I work with recognizes and huge companies realize. It's just part of life. There are so many talented people in the world making amazing art, videos, music, writings, and on and on, and there's only so much time in the day. I'm not saying you shouldn't know your worth, just that being flippant about how little you care about those who can't pay isn't a good move. On that note...

2. PR is everything. If you haven't made a visible effort to push patreon, channel memberships or other avenues of making money, don't be suprised that your creation that was previously accessible to those without extra cash and to those who can't support foreign subscriptions due either to conversions or because it simply doesn't work, being made private isn't popular. There's a big leap from "We want to have more artistic control" to "We can't afford to make our content accessible to most of our audience," and people are smart enough to see this. You either have to make budget cuts or give into sponsors. This isn't unique to Watcher, it's part of literally every production from broadway, to Hollywood, to YouTube. Unless you can fund it yourself or get viewers to pay(which given how many are already strapped for cash...) that's life.

Not to mention they simply do not have enough followers to make the switch to a paid only site(dropping the first epsiode only on YouTube isn't going to draw people in, they're just going to say "oh why start if I'm not going to see the rest" and not watch) especially not one that is buggy and a security risk. Even if the switch had been supported its not going to end well. The only reason services like nebula and dropout work is because of the large amount of series and creators and the fact those creators still are partly on YouTube so new people are drawn in.

3. As for the price, 6 dollars a month is a not a good starting price for only their content and that's as someone who pays for nebula. I'd be paying the same amount for a fraction of the access to others work. Actually it'd be twice as much. And before someone says "it's only a coffee-" that's for you. Not everyone has your lifestyle. And with every other patreon and subscription service that says the same thing, it all adds up and I simply don't think 60 dollars for 48 videos a year on a subscription basis where you don't get to keep the videos if your situation changes, some of which don't appeal to every viewer is a good move. If you were able to buy physical copies of your favorite series they've made that'd be different, but that's not what this is.

4. I do believe that the employees deserve a livable wage. I also did not hire them. It is not on the viewers that they hired more people than they could afford to. They can charge that much if they want to to try and balance this out. They also shouldn't be suprised if not many can or will sign up. They also don't have to be based in L.A. L.A has ridiculous costs associated with it, and quite honestly it doesn't really add much to the content. I'm not saying they need to move to the middle of nowhere Kansas. Simply that living and basing your studio in a super expensive city and then being suprised money is tight is just weird.

5. Something that occurs to me is that they might get more views if their playlists were better set up. Only some series are given playlists. It'd be easier to find all of the series and binge them if they didn't just show off their more popular shows. Honestly the only draw the streaming site has to me is that the series are actually labeled well.

Do I think the weird ass energy towards Steven is necessary? No. He's not the only one at the company and they're all adults. I actually liked grocery run and homemade, and like to see them back. The parascoial attachment to Ryan and Shane is annoying in people's criticisms, but that doesn't make them completely wrong. If you're going to brand yourself as the anti capalist underdogs you can't get away with being dismissive of your poorer fans. The dissonance is what is causing this backlash and makes you look like hypocrites. I definitely think Steven is turning into the fall guy which is fucked up, his statement and the fact dish granted is one of those shows that make people uncomfortable about wealth flexs doesn't help matters.

[arminsumi]

Saw this and thought... Mafia AU Gojo & Geto 👀

Share a piece of your juicy brain thoughts please, I'm collecting all the scraps 😗

PRETTY THING LIKE YOU.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ 𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 — 夏油傑

NOTE: OH TO BE IN THAT CAR 🛐 anyways, these are just... messy ideas pls forgive me!! 🥲 idk how to write for mafia stuff but i adore the idea sm i wanted to say a lil smth about it

WARNINGS — fem reader, you're Toji's daughter, err mafia stuff warning idk?? implied kidnapping, implied light use of violence, Geto calling u nicknames (sweetheart, baby, etc), i made Gojo a meanie for some reason oops, some vague semblance of a plotline lol

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

Your dad is Toji Fushiguro, he sits on a big throne in this business. Everyone knows him, everyone's scared of him — why wouldn't they be? Except for these two particular men... who consider themselves the strongest 🙄 Big, big severely inflated egos they've got.

Toji hired Nanami to be the loyal bodyguard for his precious daughter. Why? Well, to put it simply — these two men are looking to take revenge on him with you as their playing card.

Geto and Gojo are on the hunt one night for you, and you fall right into their palms. Usually the black car with tinted windows has Nanami behind the wheel, ready to drive you home after a night out. But one night it's those two.

The drive is silent and uneasy. Gojo is flicking his gaze up at the rearview mirror to check you out with those piercing blue eyes of his. Geto is talking to you in a sickeningly saccharine sultry voice, nicknaming you sweetheart, princess, love, baby, etc... and trying his best to keep you calm with simple small-talk.

Gojo? He's more intimidating than his friend behind the wheel. He will not stop eyeing you out, even when you three end up in some fancy penthouse. You blink up at him innocently, it almost makes his heart lurch — he's wondering how such a pretty face came from such a bastard.

Whatever Toji did to them in the past, they were still seething over. Seems their idea of a revenge plot involved you. But you had no idea what to expect. They didn't have intent to hurt you — well, subtract Gojo pulling and pushing you around like a ragdoll when you weren't compliant enough. But Geto always scolded him.

In fact, Geto calmed the both of you so nicely. He put on water to boil and languidly stirred tea in the kitchen. It was surreal and bizarre in some way.

"Sweetheart, we're gonna be transparent with you. We're just keeping you here for a little while to get your dad's attention. You're gonna be treated like a princess, so don't you worry — " he lifted you by the chin so you had to look up at him, "A pretty thing like you isn't in trouble with us."

Gojo scoffed. He had his arms folded. Legs crossed. Spine slacked against the couch.

"Don't mind him, princess. He's just grumpy — your old man wasn't very kind to him in his youth." Geto explained super vaguely.

Gojo chuckled, "Yeah, you're damn right he wasn't kind to me. Sonofabitch wasted me."

"Well she had nothing to do with that, Satoru, so treat her good."

He grumbled in reluctant agreement. But the second Geto was out of sight, when Gojo led you to your bedroom, he entrapped you between two arms and practically pinned you to the wall.

"Listen — princess — " he mockingly impersonated Geto, "You keep those lips shut or I will shut them for you." he threatened, breathe fanning your face.

Well, it was hard to keep your lips shut. A week later, you woke up and went into the kitchen to find Gojo with a bloodstain in his white hair, Geto with a crimson splatter across his cheek, and a gun resting on the table that towered with green stacks of money. You didn't dare ask what was going on. You just looked at them until they said something from themselves.

"Don't worry." Geto's serene smile caught your worried gaze, "Just business, angel."

"What exactly-" you began, but Gojo gave you a sharp look and Geto immediately cut you off.

" — ah-ah, baby. We've already talked about this." he cooed. His smile had the vaguest sinister twist to it, "Keep that pretty mouth shut. No asking questions."

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[emhm]

Coffee? Please?

Let me preface this by saying; I am not disabled and this is not about 'urgent' vet bills.

[I have an outstanding debt to pay in that regard, but the monthly payment is small and the service was already done. It was the amputation for our kitten Lucky's dead front leg.]

I do have a job and the pay is too good to quit. I work 40 hours a week and I spend almost 13 more hours just driving to and from work because our boss 'can't find a work assignment closer to where I live.' Up until about two weeks ago my partner was also working 40 hours a week on an opposing shift. We were just starting to get on top of our crushing pile of monthly bills. Then she lost her work assignment [not her fault] and he couldn't find anything else for her to do. So she lost a whole weeks pay. He found her a place, but now she's only getting 24 hours a week instead of 40. And we were already struggling to pay for the bare essentials. I was hoping so hard to just have something left when the bills were paid. But my entire tax return was used to pay for overdue bills and it still wasn't all of them.

-We have not had a working washing machine since September. Almost all of my ancient towels have rotted and ripped apart from trying to hang dry them to avoid killing the dryer too.

-Our house does not have central heat or air so we've been freezing for months with no money to buy wood for the stove. [It's warmer now but still in the low 40s at night where I am.]

-We have been flushing the toilet with buckets of water for almost a year because hiring a plumber is not happening.

-For over a year we have been fighting the flea infestation caused by the deadbeat trash-pit roommate we had to force to move out. They're biting me as well as the cats and I'm allergic to them. So I constantly have a rash on my feet and ankles. We never have money for flea drops consistently enough to get rid of them and I do not have a working vacuum to get rid of the flea eggs in the carpet.

-I just had to take on $1200 worth of debt because my tires were bald from my ungodly commute and they told me the brakes need replacing very soon.

-Our youngest cat Lucky will need to be fixed soon because she's almost old enough to go into heat. [She's indoors only but I don't want to deal with the screaming.]

Our predatory mortgage payment is almost $2000 a month with all their shitty add-on fees. My car payment is $334. The internet is $87. The power is usually $125. Car insurance is about $115. Garbage is $65. Our car is shared and I go through 1 tank +1/4 tank of gas EVERY WEEK. I owe both Sunbit AND Carecredit. We're both estranged from abusive parents and have no other family to turn to in an emergency.

I can't ask for money for fanfic. I know that's unethical and illegal.

But I can tell you that I write better/faster/more when I'm not distracted by gut-wrenching despair, crippling anxiety attacks and the bone-deep fear of quickly losing my home because I'm always two missed paychecks away from disaster. I know pretty much everyone is in the same boat, and my problems aren't unique or special.

But anything helps.

I have several hundred dollars in overdue bills from last month and it's already time for the next month's to start arriving. I feel so hopeless and I don't know what else to do besides resorting to begging.

I just set up a Ko-fi account - https://ko-fi.com/followmeontumblr

My Paypal is attached to this old email address - Nightshade518@yahoo.com

I have an Etsy shop with some things for sale - https://www.etsy.com/shop/PatchworkLaboratory

I also have a Spoonflower shop with fabric featuring my designs. [I only make $1.50 per yard that people buy though.] - https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/infamousdoctorf

And for anyone who was kind enough to read this whole thing- I do have some NSFW sketches I've drawn for "Eclipse Meets His Match" that I have nowhere safe to post. If you're bold enough to direct-message me with the line-

"I swear on all I hold holy that I am not a minor. Show me the art."

I'll let you see them. Thank you either way.

-Doc

[secretsideblogshhhh]

Imagine you live in a kingdom. Everything in this kingdom was modeled after the founder of the whole city.

This means the house sizes, the utensils, the clothes, every single thing, was made for him.

And for plenty of people this is fine. The clothes fit them, the cabinets are easy enough to reach, the size of the tools are perfect.

But you're a fair bit smaller than this guy was. The clothes are extremely baggy on you. You struggle to keep them on. They get in your way and you trip over them all the time.

You can't reach the cabinets, the tools are hard to hold in your hands.

Everything you do takes so much effort because nothing here was made for you.

But everyone else gets annoyed by this, not because of the system made that makes life hard on you, but because you're different.

They hate you constantly tripping.

You mention maybe getting a belt to help with that, and everyone you know gets mad at you for even suggesting it.

"you don't really need a belt"

"you could just take some growth medicine, get bigger"

"you don't deserve special treatment just because you're different"

"well everything works just fine for me, I don't know why you have issues"

And it's frustrating. The only person who you can relate to is your buddy Tim, who's a whole lot bigger than the guy everything was made for was.

His clothes cut off his circulation, they actively hurt him.

He hits his head on doors, he can barely use the tools because they're so small to him.

He wants to make his own clothes, but he can't afford it because he can't keep a job.

No one wants to hire a guy who can't hold the tools, or who needs a break every few hours so he can take off his clothes in the bathroom to breathe.

And even if he did manage to get the money, the tools are too small. He'd have to hire someone.

And hiring someone would cost so much more.

Of course the responses he gets are similar to yours.

"you're just lazy, it's not that hard to get and keep a job"

"have you tried just losing weight? That's probably what's causing all your issues"

You and him bond over this. How the world is cruel to you for being different. You found each other because of you were different from everyone else and it brought you closer

But then people see your friendship. It would be natural to assume that your friendship makes sense. You have the same struggles after all.

But no.

People see that you're friends and say

"well obviously you're both making up your issues, it's so rare for even one of you to exist. But 2 of you? You have to be lying for attention"

You try to show them that your issues are real, because you want help. You'd love for others to understand and help you fix the way the kingdom is built.

But people look away, they ignore you. Either pretending to not see you or they just invalidate your experience.

"everyone has rough days"

"you just got some poorly made clothes"

"He just wants an excuse so he doesn't have to work"

"if you just tried harder-"

Everyone seems to have some solution for your issues, ones you've tried a hundred times before.

Everyone seems to have an opinion on your existence. Usually pity or disgust. Often a mix of both, though the disgust isn't something anyone will admit to aloud. Their actions speak loud enough though.

That's how it feels to have a disability. Especially an invisible one. You have to fight just to be heard and it's exhausting.

Everything that you do is a struggle people who aren't disabled just don't understand. And it's infuriating how they write you off just because they don't want to even try to understand

[tinystepsforward]

im sure ur getting a lot of questions but i would like to say, thanks for posting about the Situation at hand, the context youve provided has been really insightful about the internal health/workings of tumblr. i am worried about the future though.. despite everything, i really dont want to see this website die.. in any case, i hope something good happens to you today

i don't want to see this website die either. it does worry me — i wouldn't have made the posts i did if i didn't care, if i hadn't spent six years doing my best at automattic and much longer than that growing up in open-source and on tumblr. (this is a new account, a couple of years old, but i've been around a while.)

the thing is, terfs (and nazis, and so on) are not a tumblr problem. the increasing legal burden on large websites to effectively moderate their sites in the face of increasingly strategic tos-compliant hate groups is not a tumblr problem. and the state of the tech industry over the last few years has made me very disheartened in general about where we're all supposed to go to keep in touch with each other — nothing out there is built and run both by people who have enough money to hire a policy team and a trust and safety team who will be treated well enough to design a less hateful platform from the ground up, and people who actually want to do that.

capitalism, as always, you know? moderating tumblr effectively would both require it not to be led by people like matt and to have the resources to cultivate a healthy, happy company where free speech without bigotry is at the fundamental heart of the product's design.

i don't think we'll get there! i think the structural problems with tumblr are structural problems with Big Tech, with venture capitalism, with capitalism as a whole, and so on, and cannot easily be fully fixed within that system even if matt suddenly decided to log off after fully empowering all staff to focus solely on harm reduction. i do however think that, as with twitter, people will make the best of what we've got, and contradictions and tensions between different groups will sharpen as they have offline, and we'll all be along for the ride.

maybe a boring old person thing to say but: i get a lot of fulfilment out of organising in person. i've been a prison abolitionist alongside a lot of other qtpoc comrades for nearly a decade now, and the good work we do helps me believe in a future we can thrive in. if that's available to you, doing good in some small way with people who believe in it is good for the soul and the world.

[ponett]

with the fallout of bandai namco's idiotic "it's up to interpretation" bs, do you think that it's possible to enjoy queer media made in a corporate environment in addition to independent works? is it even worthwhile to attempt making queer media in a corporate environment? i find it special how well the g-witch production team managed to tell the story they wanted even with the challenges and pressures they faced, but i have to admit that independent works like slarpg are always going to more completely tell queer stories. as someone who has resonated with both slarpg and g-witch, i was curious to know your perspective.

i'm probably less cynical about this than a lot of my peers are - not that i can blame anyone for feeling cynical about queer rep from corporate-owned media. (we've been through so many First Ever Gay Disney Characters at this point, and lord knows blizzard loves to tease that another overwatch character might be gay every year or so as a PR move.) unfortunately it's just extremely hard to get something like a full season of an animated series funded and produced independently, so the artists looking to enter these fields and pour their hearts and souls into meaningful queer stories as a full-time job don't have many options

going indie gives you theoretically endless creative freedom to tell your stories without corporate censorship, but it's also a massive gamble. only an extreme minority of indie creatives in any medium are actually able to make a living. the fact that i came out the other side of slarpg's development with enough money that i can keep being a full-time indie instead of being in massive debt makes me one of the lucky ones. and even with my modest success, i sure as hell don't have the money to hire a whole team, which limits the scope of what i can make. so i can't turn my nose up at the queer people writing disney channel cartoons where they can't say the word "gay" out loud. they have health insurance, i don't. for most people, what i do is simply not an option

with the corporate-produced Queer Stories i enjoy, i'm often able to squint and see what the creatives were trying to do, wishing that they could have done more while understanding that they probably had to fight tooth and nail for what's there

in the realm of children's animation in particular, i'm thankful that the people working at these studios ARE fighting for more, because it means that kids today have so many more positive queer stories to relate with. i didn't have a single gay character i felt i could relate to until i read scott pilgrim at age 16 and saw wallace wells. before that, i felt so alone in the world. i denied who i was for years because it felt like there would be no place for me. i didn't know anyone openly gay in real life, growing up in the south, and in fiction gay people either existed as the butt of a joke or not at all. the fact that queer kids are now able to see people like themselves in so many shows means something, even if we still have a long way to go and the big studios continue to be a major obstacle

on the subject of g-witch, i'm honestly unfazed by the statement from bandai-namco. i guess i wish they could've let suletta and miorine kiss, but like... the text of the show is extremely blunt about them being a couple by the end. it's not up for debate. and it's not like a gundam series having a meaningful story in spite of the wishes of the toy-producing overlords is anything new, this is just our latest example

all that being said, i do think people should branch out more and explore more weird indie shit if they want more wholeheartedly, openly queer stories. people gotta suck it up and embrace more outsider art instead of only valuing things with studio-level production values. start looking at ren'py visual novels, rpg maker games, obscure webcomics, zines drawn in sharpie, artists on bandcamp who aren't signed to a label, all that jazz. maybe part of the reason why i'm not more fazed by the state of affairs with corporate-funded fiction is that i'm constantly surrounded by furry artists who are telling their own little gay stories

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

A Long Rant About The Koffin Trio

Note: So, this is my first (really) long post about this fangame, and to be honest, I was debating whether or not to even publish it. I still decided to do it since not a lot of folks talk about ts!underswap, and I wanted to give my two cents regarding my three favorite characters.

More important note: If you think it's gonna trigger you to read about Harry/Larry and Harry/Larry/KK as a found family, better click off this post. Maybe it's my inner aroace speaking, but I personally don't see the romantic appeal at all. Good for you if you do! I'm not trying to invalidate anyone's opinion; diversity is great after all :)

For those of you who are still here, I will start off by saying this:

Harry and Larry depend on Count Koffin-K for so much. I'm tempted to say EVERYTHING.

He genuinely feels like their father figure. I mean, this sentient fedora gave them a job while they were both living lives that were... bad.

He isn't cruel when they do something stupid and instead just looks deadpan. Sure, Koffin-K's not a perfect boss; he yells at the two of them and insults them (dude really needs to work on his temper), but I found it sweet how both Harry and Larry felt safe enough to tell him the truth here, which to me counts for something (pun intended) ↓

He even pranks them sometimes ↓

Koffin may not be perfect (he's gotta keep up the "evil" persona) but at least he 1) tries to give Harry and Larry a hint that he cares for them (has them both secretly do his laundry without them telling each other) 2) actually admits that he cares for them both equally (in his own way) 3) attempts to solve their disagreement despite him not gaining anything out of it

How they met is also interesting to me.

Based on their backstory, Harry and Larry were clearly hesitant to work for Koffin, but when they actually started the job the next day, I imagine that their conversation went something like this (either during the first day or at some point early on in their career):

H: "Larry, he could be like the dad we never had and provide for us and we could have all da money that we never did, see?"

L: "Huhuhu, yeah! Don't forgets da food!"

...and that's how the parade float came to be. I think Koffin secretly appreciates they made it, even though he says how he wanted the thing "as far away as possible" right after saying this line ↓

He also makes this face later on at the festival when he sees the float again cause it reminds him that the three of them are a family despite Harry and Larry getting on his nerves half the time but I can't include the screenshot bc of the picture limit

Heck, the two even built their house outside the keep, which to me suggests that they don’t ever plan on leaving Koffin.

Harry does mention his mother, and we learn that he's into embroidery (both making me think he's a a 'mama's boy'; maybe she taught him how to embroider)...

...but even on the ts!us wiki, the only relationship dynamic the two have is with Koffin-K himself.

Weirdly enough, we only know that Harry has a mom, but not a dad

Even though he was definitely unaware of this, Koffin liked Harry and Larry FOR BEING THEMSELVES. This is really important to me.

He saw something in them that others did not, even if it was initally just "your names rhyme and you give me the 'goofy henchmen' vibe." He sees them both as useful for what he needs them for. It may not be much, but it's exactly what Koffin's looking for.

In other words:

THE WAY HARRY AND LARRY ARE IS ENOUGH FOR COUNT KOFFIN-K. I mean, why look at resumes of competent potential employees when you can hire two idiots who are just as goofy as you

Exactly why Harry and Larry are so loyal to Koffin-K is unknown, but based on my interpretation, it has to do with 1) them desperately needing a father figure/someone to rely on 2) Koffin giving Harry and Larry a home, food, money, and a job that also allows them to slack off and finally enjoy life, and 3) him making them feel needed. Maybe not appreciated, even though he subtly tried to, but definitely needed. Serving under him became their purpose.

In other words, I think they're so loyal because Koffin "chose" them, even if he did that subconsciously.

Harry got the chance to be more than just a janitor. Imo, he was hesitant to work for Koffin at first because he was afraid that he would lose the only sense of security he had. I think he lived with his mom at the time, considering his low-wage job This explains why he wants to be rich (to make up for all the things he couldn't afford).

It also explains why Larry loves food so much (he literally slept under a dumpster bag and if he was both homeless AND unemployed, it would mean that he had to either be a beggar or eat from the trash. Either way, eating good food was out of the question.

It's also possible that Larry had a janitor job just like Harry (but unlike him, nowhere to live). I say that he might have been a janitor, since Koffin mentions how they could both do better than mopping floors forever, but maybe it was just an assumption on Koffin's side.

Whatever the case, their lives sucked.

There was also this one moment I wanna talk about, where Larry called Koffin-K stupid, and Harry pretty much agreed. So I asked myself why they reacted this way.

Maybe because it was easier to convince themselves that they didn't care about their boss than deal with the fact that he (maybe) always saw them as nothing but 'lowly servants'.

Seriously, Harry said out loud what they both wanted most of all. And that something was for Koffin-K to value them. This was more important to them than money and food COMBINED, considering their entire arc was about learning that Koffin needed them both equally

Maybe they were worried about getting fired, but I honestly don't think Koffin ever wanted to do that to them, no matter how many times they messed up.

Maybe they didn't want to be honest and admit to Koffin that he's a total dumbass so they wouldn't get in trouble with him. I mean, they did want to gain his validation/appreciation/approval/love, so it makes sense that they would do anything to get and remain in his good books.

I think the third scenario is the most likely one, tbh.

Might be a nitpick, but notice how Harry and Larry are walking next to each other here, but Koffin-K's at the back, just sorta... isolated, like he's not their equal? This is why I'd rather see him as their father figure than an older brother. The way I look at it, the oldest sibling is usually in charge, yeah, but there's still a level of closeness and familiarity between the siblings, whereas Harry and Larry hardly know anything about Koffin-K, ESPECIALLY how lonely he really is. Koffin's the one who gave them a purpose, became their boss, and as a result, they began looking up to him. In contrast, the two spend 24/7 together, bicker, and are practically inseparable, like brothers

Larry also explains how Koffin-K doesn't like leaving his study, but clearly neither Harry nor Larry reflected on why that is and just assumed it's because Koffin's 'stupid.' This reaction kinda rubbed me the wrong way at first, but then I remembered both of these dudes are street rats who don't know any better.

Look, I know the Boogiemen were supposed to fit this common "goofy villain's sidekicks" trope, but both of them clearly grew up in poor conditions, have daddy issues (imo), and feel worthless/useless.

That's why they want Koffin-K's attention so badly.

They need a father figure to reassure them that they're useful, important, and loved.

All this makes them three-dimensional and relatable, just like most UT/DR/UTY characters. It feels like everyone in these games goes through some kind of deep arc, and I feel like this is supposed to be the Boogiemen's

Sure, Harry and Larry are funny at first glance, and they're great at being comic reliefs, but at their core, they are misguided guys who come from poverty/homelessness. I kinda wish the feisty four from uty had more going for them just so I could psychoanalyze them all

Even though it's probably been a few years since they joined Koffin, at least some part of Harry and Larry doesn't seem to believe that they can finally enjoy themselves, even if it means doing hooligan stuff and boring chores. That's why they're 'superficial' and goof off and will grab any opportunity to act childish and materialistic.

A typical case of age regression

What lies beyond the surface is incredibly sad to me.

Now, this is sort of like a bonus section bc I want to explain WHY exactly I see Harry & Larry as brothers, and WHY I think they see Koffin as a dad again, maybe it's bc I'm aroace and I see family relationships everywhere, but the stuff below REALLY REALLY reminds me of these types of dynamics:

They threw insults at each other and had a literal fistfight over which one of them Koffin appreciated/liked more

They cried HARD (of joy) when Koffin told them they're both equally useful and useless, so they no longer had to be at each other's throats. He also said how he recognized that they're passionate about being his lackeys, even if their teamwork needed, well, work

I think it's sweet how they built the float 'within their first days of henchmenry,' according to KK. They could have easily NOT included him, but had apparently warmed up to him pretty soon

Harry wanted to call Koffin to save them + I love how he's CERTAIN he'll do it

Both yelled for Koffin (reminds me of Axis calling out for Chujin for some reason)

Larry called Koffin Keep their home (could have easily said that they left it at the keep...reminds me of the times Starlo called The Wild East Clover's home I really need to stop with the uty parallels)

They cheered for him (and got hit in the face with books)

They get in trouble with him

They apparently copied two of his attacks these 3 are so similar except that Koffin is a more 'head in the clouds' kind of goofy while Harry & Larry are more grounded... but still goofy

And this line... "And quit arguing, you two!" sounded so parental, istg

I forgot to mention some stuff:

After Koffin tells everyone to go to the festival, Harry and Larry quickly look left and right, like they're wondering where he is and/or what to do now that he isn't there. Poor guys really are dependent on him and like to be in his presence

They talked about Koffin a LOT throughout this game. Their conversations are either about 1) Koffin and what they're gonna do to please him, 2) Them bickering, or 3) Some shenanigans they get themselves into. Larry even remembers how Koffin-K always says: "If you're slacking, put some hustle into it"

Koffin doesn't treat any other lackey the way he does Harry and Larry, and none of the other lackeys seek his admiration like the two do

Harry and Larry were both jealous af of Chara for getting all the attention (right after they got into Koffin's study Harry said "Now whaddya need us in here for, see?" and I immediately thought that he wanted to add "you have a new favorite child lacky now so why don't assign more chores TO THEM")

Like I'm not sure if they were meant to come across to us players as a family but for some reason that's how they came across to me since day 1

The actual reason why I see them in this light is not just bc I love found family (even tho I do. a lot), but bc I feel like it would give Harry & Larry more depth than a romance between any of them

[odiesdayoff]

The Winner Is...

pair: Robert Fischer x fem!reader

summary: Robert Fischer's stuck judging this year's Miss America Pageant. That doesn't mean he can't use his position to his advantage.

warnings: extremely dubious consent!! (heed the warnings!); mean/condescending Robert Fischer; anal; blowjobs; deepthroating; unprotected sex; a bit of misogyny; power imbalance

made reader from Georgia because I've been watching a lot of Kim of Queens. I've never written a lot of this before so I hope you can enjoy <3 this is also on Ao3 so yea... feedback always appreciated!

but also your consumption is your fault so if you don't like the content well then you should not have skipped/ignored the warnings

ALSO happy valentine's day from me :)

“In your opinion, what is a way that young women can lead successful lives in traditionally male-dominated professions?” Miss America from 2003 spoke clearly into the microphone. She wore her winning sash across her chest and a sparkling dress. 

On her left, a former professional basketball player crossed her arms and sat back. She won the finals for her team two years in a row and now she was stuck judging brainless, but beautiful women being asked sexist questions in the veil of feminism and the uplifting of women. It didn’t matter, though. She was getting paid.

On the right of Miss America 2003, Robert Fischer leaned on the judge’s table with his hands folded. Ever since he fumbled the business deal with Eclipse Solutions, Maurice thought that the best form of punishment was to take his spot as a judge in this competition. Initially, Robert thought that it wasn’t much of a punishment, but after a long week of nonstop noise and hearing these women yap about how they were going to change the world, he understood why his father made him. 

The hard-on he was sporting towards the beginning of the competition was long gone. He couldn’t bear to look at any of them anymore. Even during the swimsuit portion, for God’s sake.

Your smile never fell. The swimsuit you chose emphasized your breasts and slimmed your waist. Saying that you chose it was an exaggeration, your coach said that if you could catch the eyes of Fischer and Johnson, who your coach was convinced was a lesbian, you would have it in the bag. You still weren’t too sure about it. Knowing that your body was getting exposed to millions of people over the television was enough to raise your anxiety.

Attempting to not look like a total fool, you took a deep breath and nodded in response to her question. “Well, as someone who is in the career path of accounting, I have faced a lot of adversarial coworkers and peers. I believe that the best way that young women can gain success is to keep their self-confidence and never stop allowing themselves to learn and grow both professionally and personally. The best way to prove your doubters wrong is to excel in the path that you choose.” You weren’t exactly sure what you were saying, but you had hoped that it came across as something really intelligent to the judges. This was a question you had practiced for so long with your coach, but your mind drew a blank. 

Robert held back a laugh or at least a scoff. There’s no way he would hire you. With a face like that and the way you spoke, there’s no way that you knew how to do anything within the range of taxes or money. Probably a case of affirmative action, he was sure. Either that or you sucked the right man’s dick to get to where you were now. 

Miss America 2003 grinned. “Thank you, Miss Georgia. What a lovely way of thinking. I wish you the best of luck! Mr. Fischer, do you have a question?”

Robert’s bright blue eyes pierced into yours, despite the fair amount of distance from each other. He leaned into his mic. “Do you believe that you get respected more or less because of your appearance?”

The question felt like a double-edged sword. The last thing the general public wanted to hear was that you thought you were beautiful. It weirded people out to acknowledge your beauty, according to your coach.

“While I do think that appearance does affect the way that strangers treat others, it’s in your personality and how you treat others that matters. For me, it doesn’t matter what someone looks like for me to respect them. People that base how they treat others based on looks aren’t worth your time.” You had only hoped that the foundation you had on was holding back the sweat threatening to fall down your forehead. Robert Fischer had been asking the most condescending and borderline rude questions to everyone. It was bound to happen to you, too.

“Mm. Thank you.” He didn’t look amused.

Music began to play and the audience cheered. You smiled again at the judges' table before leaving the stage in the T walk. Once you were off stage and out of sight of both the judges and the audience, you let out a sigh and released the way that you were sucking in your stomach. You had been doing pageants like this ever since you were a little girl and now, your dream of being in this competition was real. Why did it feel so humiliating?

There was only one final day. It was the evening gown portion and the announcement of Miss America for the year. After that, you could finally relax. That is, unless you won and would immediately have to start your training for Miss Universe. Maybe you didn’t want to relax, after all. 

By the time the sun fell, most of the contestants were either spending their last night together in their hotel rooms and doing spa nights while the rest decided to go out to the clubs. You were advised not to befriend any of them by your coach to avoid feeling guilty when you eventually won and they lost. Now, you were alone at a nearby bar nursing a beer and listening to the band playing. It was a cover band of The Killers. Mr. Brightside was the current song getting butchered by the young singer.

It was freeing to be out of dresses and swimsuits and finally not showing off your body. You wore loose jeans and a top with a jacket over it. If they didn’t know you, nobody would even know that you were who you were.

You felt someone sit next to you. In a bar of several open seats, of course, they chose the one basically on top of you. They waved the bartender down and ordered a whiskey. The voice was familiar, one that was ringing in your head all day. You faced him to confirm your suspicions. Robert fucking Fischer.

The drink in your hand was what you tried to focus on. “Not very talkative off stage, huh?” It would be rude to ignore him, you knew that. 

You shrugged. “My social battery is drained.” While it was partially the truth, he was the last person you wanted to be speaking to. 

“You know,” he swirled the whiskey in his glass, “it’s between you and Miss California.” He took a generous sip of his drink as he let the information sink in. 

Excitement and guilt mixed in your stomach. “You shouldn’t say that. We shouldn’t even be speaking, Mr. Fischer.” You finished your drink and stood from the barstool. His hand wrapped around your wrist and stopped you from taking a step away.

“You wanna win, don’t you?” You sat back down, mostly involuntarily, and met his eyes with your own again. They were almost hypnotizing. “I can make that happen.”

“What do you mean?” Questions ran through your head. Was he asking for a bribe? Maybe he had some sort of bet running on you winning.

He smirked at the sight of your intrigue. “This whole competition’s about who’s the best woman, right? They’re still forgetting about the most important thing that makes a woman.” He leaned in closer to you, his hot breath against your skin. “How well they can fuck.”

You waited a moment to make sure that he was being serious, hoping that he wasn’t. The lustful look in his eyes didn’t tell you that he was joking at all. “You’re disgusting.”

“Even if I am, I’m the deciding factor on whether you go down in history as a winner or as nobody at all.” He finished his drink and stood up, fixing his tie. “Johnson likes you. Miss 2003 wants California. It’s all up to me.”

If he was lying, rejecting him wouldn’t mean much in the long run. If he wasn’t, you probably would’ve spent the rest of your life regretting taking him to bed. “Someone will see us going to the hotel together.”

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed you one of his room keys. “Room 704. Wait ten minutes and then come up.” Without saying another word, he dropped some cash on the bar for his drink and left.

The room key felt heavy in your hand. Was winning worth anything if it wasn’t honest? He better have a decent-sized dick if you were really going to do this. 

You felt a hand tap your shoulder. “Y/n L/n? Oh my god, I’m such a big fan! I’ve been watching the whole pageant with my daughter, she loves you!” A woman shook your hand, feeling a bit too formal. The guilt grew in your stomach. How could you be a role model for little girls like this? “Can I have a picture?”

Despite your appearance, you nodded. The room key burned a hole in your pocket as you fixed your hair and took a picture with the woman. Hopefully, the dim light of the bar made you look better than you felt. 

It had already been fifteen minutes since Robert had left. You finally paid for your drink and headed for the hotel. With each step, your anxiety grew. The elevator rose to the seventh floor and you stopped in front of 704. Instead of knocking, you pulled the room key out and inserted it into the door. The light flashed green and you pushed it open. 

Robert was sitting at the edge of the bed without his clothes, stroking himself and staring at the door until you finally walked in. “You’re late.” You kept your eyes around his, trying to prevent yourself from looking any lower.

“I got caught up with something.” You took your jacket off and laid it on the office chair. Given his state of undress, you weren’t entirely sure whether or not you should strip now or wait for his instruction. He seemed like the type who was obsessed with control, especially in the bedroom. The last thing you needed was for him to get angry with you over something so trivial and ruin your chances.

He rolled his eyes. “Sounds like you don’t really want this, don’t you? To win?”

Frantically, you shook your head. “I want it.”

He pointed to the floor right in front of him and spread his knees further apart. You didn’t respond, knowing it was most likely for nothing, and knelt in front of him. For the way that he acted, you would assume it was because he was overcompensating. God, you were wrong.

His free hand grabbed hold of your hair and pushed your head closer to his aching cock. He leaned back. “You’re not gonna win just by looking at it.” You held back from commenting on his attitude and kissed the blushing red tip, the same color as his lips. 

You flattened your tongue against the underside of his head, allowing his precum and your saliva to mix. After hearing the slightest moan of pleasure from him, which was an exhale at best, you took a few inches of him into your mouth. His hand in your hair guided you back and forth along his length.

“That’s all you’re gonna take? I think you could do much better than that.” He taunted, not pushing you down and wanting you to do it voluntarily. “Or, I could just call down Miss California. She’d love to deepthroat me.”

You tried to relax your throat and took him deeper. He was big, much bigger than what you were used to, but you could take him. You inched deeper until your nose pressed against his lower stomach and your breathing was constricted. “Atta girl.” He smelled like the generic body soap the hotel offered with a mix of his cologne. If you could focus on breathing through your nose and sucking him off the best you could, this would be over quickly.

Hearing his heavy breathing and attempts to hide his whimpers sent shockwaves down your spine. You felt the warmth growing in between your legs the more you pleasured him. “I’m about to cum. You’ll swallow, right?”

While you couldn’t answer, you made a sound of agreement that vibrated down your throat. You’d need to do some vocal treatment and tea tonight so you still could speak tomorrow. “Fuck.” He gripped your hair tighter as he came, ropes of cum shooting down your throat.

He finally pulled out once he had fully finished. You wiped a trail of cum and spit from your lips and looked up to him. “Not bad. Though, I’ve had much better. I guess I overestimated you. Take off the rest of your clothes.”

“What does that mean?” You cocked a brow. It felt even more humiliating considering your position in front of him and the way that you could still taste the remnants of his semen coating your throat. 

“Oh, come on. You get a high-paying job straight out of college at a Big 4? You’re either a genius, which I doubt considering half of the answers you’ve given so far, or you’ve slept your way into the job. Now, strip for me.” He spoke matter-of-factly. It was like he’d already convinced himself of his theories, even though they were far from the truth. Couldn’t imagine that a woman like you could make her way up the corporate ladder without the help of rich and successful parents. 

There was no use in arguing, you told yourself and took your clothes off until you were standing naked in front of him. “How exactly is the winner chosen? Aren’t there scoresheets? You’re making it sound like it’s entirely based on personal preference.”

He laughed, this time, a genuine one. “Scoresheets are arbitrary. We make those up to align with who we like the best.” He gestured to the bed behind him with his head as he stood. You followed his order and sat on the edge where he had previously been. His tongue flicked around his lips as he got a good look at you, sitting there so obediently for him. “Didn’t even touch you yet and you’re already dripping.” 

You gave him your best version of doe eyes that you could, following the instruction of your coach. She always said that facial expressions were the most important aspect of impressing someone. If you could read the person and make yourself into their ideal partner, they’d be putty in your hands. Robert seems to like to be in charge and superior, but there was an underlying hint of something you couldn’t put your finger on. Maybe it was the desire to be nurtured? 

“Can’t imagine you’ll feel that good. Not as tight as you used to be, hm?” He took hold of your knees and separated them enough for his hips to fit. He was slowly getting harder again and you felt his tip nudge your clit before gathering your arousal on himself. “How do you think we can remedy that?”

He jerked himself off using your slick, then moved the tip to settle against your ass. You immediately stiffened against him and put your hands against his chest. “No. I don’t do that.”

He groaned and took a step away from you. “Little Miss Georgia Peach is too good to take it up the ass? I’m trying to help you win, but I guess you don’t care.” He picked up your discarded clothes and tossed them to you. 

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the hotel phone and began to dial a number. He checked his watch. The person he was dialing answered. “Yeah, hi. Annie? I need you to do something for me. If you could-” You almost leaped towards the phone and pressed the button, ending the call. Annie was Miss California, he didn’t even need to continue the call for you to understand what he was doing.

“I’ll let you!” You were nearly out of breath, your voice hoarse.

He had to hide his smile from his plan working. “No, sweetheart. You have to ask me for it. Specifically.”

“I want you to fuck my ass, Robert.” You gulped. If this wasn’t your dream, you wouldn’t be begging him like this.

“Turn around.” Once you turned, his hands were on your waist and his tip rested against your ass. He slipped two fingers into your pussy, gathering arousal, and then re-lubed his cock. You’d done this before, but it wasn’t something you necessarily enjoyed. The pain outweighed the pleasure. You just needed to breathe through it.

Your hands gripped the sheets below once his head was inside your tight hole. He slowly pushed further inside until he bottomed out. The white, hot pain was rippling through your body. You focused on inhaling and exhaling and continuing to hold tightly to the bedsheets.

He offered you some mercy, moving only after about ten seconds of being inside. After that, he fucked you as he pleased, entirely ignoring how you might’ve been feeling. You were gonna be sore tomorrow. “Fuck, this is how Miss America should feel.”

He pushed your face into the bed so that he could get a better angle and began to fuck into you roughly, rutting into you like he’d die if he didn’t cum within the next few minutes. 

Confusion surrounded you when he pulled out and you felt a sudden emptiness. Not that you were complaining. He flipped you to your back and you could barely process what he was doing before his hot cum was spurting onto your breasts and stomach.

He pushed his hair back and caught his breath, taking a step away from you. “Get dressed and leave. I’ve got some calls to make.”

You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach at his confirmation of your win. Maybe it was the orgasm that had never reached climax. Either way, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow. 

~~

Pins pricked against your soft skin as they held parts of your evening gown together. Lights glare on you and your competitors on the stage. It took a lot of your might to not show the extreme soreness that you felt between your legs. You knew that if you were to touch your breasts or tighten the dress a bit more, you’d only be pushing further against the bruises Robert had given you.

The man in question sat in his chair with the other two judges, arms crossed as usual. He barely gave you a passing glance, instead, he focused on discussing things with the judges or looking at the other contestants. Maybe it was just a ploy to not make it seem like he already knew who was going to win. Certainly, that was it. 

The announcer walked on the stage from the judge’s panel with an envelope in his hand. That envelope had your name on it, you knew. He was an irrelevant game show host that you remembered watching when you were home sick from school as a child. Whatever paid the bills.

You kept your award-winning smile on while the announcer took his microphone and began to speak about how the competition was the opposite of what most people thought when it came to beauty pageants. Mostly pandering and filibustering so that the program would be able to run another round of advertisements when they played it on cable. 

“Well, I have in my hand the name of Miss America of this year. Without further ado, why don’t I open it and save these women some anxiety?” He laughed at his own joke while the audience cheered. 

Miss California stood next to you on your left and Miss Connecticut on your right. As per tradition, you held hands with them while the announcer opened the envelope of the winner. You almost felt bad for them, knowing that they were going to lose.

The envelope was open. The announcer leaned into the microphone. “And the new Miss America is…Miss California!”

It was as if you were seeing things in black and white. Confetti fell from the ceiling and Miss California dropped your hand to receive her flowers and sash. You knew that crying would make you look bad, like a sore loser, but that’s the only thing that you felt like doing. You forced a smile and clapped for her.

Robert clapped for the winner, though his cold stare was on you. What you’d never forget was the smile plastered on his face. 

He had won.

[ktempestbradford]

Ancient Egypt and Ostrich Feathers

Have a question for the Egyptologists and knowledgeable fans of Ancient Egypt about ostrich feathers.

(btw is there an Egyptologist Tumblr community? I follow @thatlittleegyptologist but don't know of any other accounts. HMU!)

When I was in Egypt last month I went to the Grand Egyptian Museum to take the very limited tour of the atrium they offer now. It... wasn't worth the money. Anywho, our tour guide did his best to make it seem valuable by talking a LOT about each thing he showed us.

Next to the colossal statue of Ramses II that dominates the atrium there's a table showing the emblems of royal iconography. The sun disk, the nemes headdress, cow horns, and a feather. He asks us if we know what that last one is and I or someone says it's the feather of Ma'at. Correct! Do we know what bird it comes from? The ostrich, someone else says. Why did they choose ostrich feathers for Ma'at and also certain crowns?

On this trip I had gone to the Nubian museum and thus had just seen several pieces of art from pre-historical peoples that utilized ostrich eggs, including a famous one that had three pyramids etched into it along with some animals. So I said something like: The ostrich has been an important animal even before the pharaohs. They relied on it for food and made art with the eggs. The tour guide (Mark) said: That's an awfully materialistic view. No, that's not why.

Now... I know I'm not an expert even though I know a lot about ancient Egypt. But "a materialistic view"? Like somehow it's not enough that ostriches provided food and probably were used in other, important ways? Why do you think Hathor is represented as a cow and there are cow horns incorporated in crowns? Because they look cool? wtf?

Mark then goes on to tell this story. Back in the dawn of civilization in Egypt the Egyptian man didn't have much to do during the day. (eyebrow raise) So he started collecting feathers from all the birds that flew above him in the sky. (...um... wait...) He would collect and then count the barbules and do you know what he discovered? Only the ostrich had the same number of them on both sides. That's why this is the feather of balance and justice.

Friends. I have never wanted to scream SHENANIGANS or at least CITE YOUR SOURCES so much in my life. Like... what?

Leaving aside the implication that ostriches were somehow flying above ancient Egyptians or that there was some point where men didn't have a dang thing to do all day but count the little hairs on feathers, I feel like this explanation is complete hooey. I mean, it could be that all or some of an ostrich's feathers have the same amount of barbules on either side of the middle bit. You might even be able to convince me that this isn't true for any other bird that someone from the Nile valley 6,000+ years ago had access to. But I'm going to need a ton of supporting evidence that this is the sole reason why the feather of Ma'at is an ostrich feather and not for the "materialistic" reasons I cited.

Also, I'm sorry, but I'm real sure predynastic Nile valley dwellers were far more concerned about food and shelter than coming up with complex reasons for using a certain kind of feather to represent a metaphysical thing.

However, I could be wrong! So I'm asking: is there evidence for Mark's version of events? Is this, you know, written somewhere in a papyrus or on a temple wall or another place? I would honestly love to read any papers on this subject, whatever the background on it.

As to the Grand Egyptian Museum, I really hope that whoever they hire to give tours when the whole thing opens are better at this than Mark. I wasn't impressed with his tour overall and eventually gave up listening to him once I saw that there was a gelato place open for business inside.

[writingsbyzuzu]

high enough

one - last man on earth

notes: you're a dedicated assistant, damon is kind of an asshole (but you just met him, he gets nicer), this is entirely from your perspective, no mention of ethan's feelings or thoughts...yet, this is going to be a shorter chapter setting up exposition.

warnings: none yet.

When you were hired to work as a professional boxer's assistant four years ago fresh out of college, you weren't exactly sure what you were getting into. His manager had only referred to it as "you do exactly what he needs and asks you to do, no questions asked."

Well, within that past four years, you discovered that that had included the following;

Personal stylist.

"Ethan you cannot possibly wear that tie, it's hideous." You start taking the tie off, but he begins to panic.

"We only have an hour, will you run and get me a new one?"

Appointment maker.

"Hi, I'd like to make an appointment for Ethan Nestor, it's for a nutritionist." He gestures at you wildly to get your attention. You wave him off, trying to pay attention to the receptionist's questions.

"Trouble, remind them I'm allergic to peanuts. Trouble."

Interview scheduler and tracker.

"Don't forget you have to talk to those guys from ESPN in two hours."

"Honestly, if I am not petting puppies like those celebrities can on Buzzfeed, is it even worth it?"

"Ethan, please."

And right now, and at many a moment prior to this, something of a personal chef. You didn't cook for Ethan that often, but sometimes he got home too late for his actual chef, and like Ethan's manager said, whatever is asked of you from Ethan.

Speaking of the devil, he steps downstairs in nothing but his basketball shorts, drying his hair off with a towel.

"Whatcha got cooking up for me, trouble? It smells great."

Trouble. After about a month working for him, he labelled you with that nickname, often using it more than your real name. At first, you had assumed it was because he hadn't bothered to remember your name. But you didn't really know him then. And by the time you were comfortable enough with Ethan to ask, you just didn't. You had started to like it as much he liked it.

You turn to look at him, watching him take the final steps down.

"Chicken parm," you smile at him, putting on the oven mitts. "You didn't have to make me anything, it's late," he says, padding over to his kitchen island, sitting on then stool.

"Second nature. I know that if I don't, you'll eat a microwave pizza. I like spending time with you. Plus, extra money." Ethan laughs, watching you put the oven mitts on, open the oven and take out the pan.

"Alrighty sir, one chicken parm for you, coming up," you grab the spatula, plating it up for him. You put the plate in front of him, but he continues to stare at you.

"What, Eth?"

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"It's really late and you're going to already have to pay me overtime, so I should get home soon. We both have to be up early," you remind him, leaning over to the counter to grab your car keys.

Ethan swipes the car keys, reflexes infinitely faster than yours. You let out a gasp of astonishment.

"You need to eat too," he stresses, holding the keys above your reach.

"I can make myself food when I get home," you insist, jumping to try to reach your keys.

"Trouble, you and I both know that you'll just eat a microwave pizza, and I respect you and your hard work too much for that. There's food on that pan right now, and it's hot. Make a plate."

He gives you a look that is beyond intense, staring you down. So you relent. "Fine."

You put another piece of chicken on a separate plate, before walking around the counter and sitting next to him.

"I promise, as soon as you finish eating, I can give you your car keys, and you can go home," Ethan reassures you, watching you eat, before taking bites of it.

That was a fucking lie, to say the least.

An hour later, you two were sitting on the couch, shoveling ice cream in your mouths from a Blue Bell gallon tub, some 80's movie playing on the tv.

This was a cycle you found yourself in a lot. Over the years, you and Ethan had become close. You had considered yourself lucky enough to have a boss who was awesome, nice, and that you could be friends with.

You had spent so much time together, it was hard not to be close. You knew everything about him, and he had cared enough to know a lot about you.

It was almost perfect. Almost.

"Don't you have anywhere better to be? I specifically remembered you wanted to get home."

"It's 11 PM on a Friday night, and my opportunity of a fun time is eating ice cream with my boss in his fancy house and cuddling his dog. Killer Klowns From Outer Space is on. I am exactly where I would want to be," you laugh.

Ethan turns to you from the tv, beaming at you. "I mean, you do have a shit apartment, I wouldn't want to hang out there either," he jokes, scooping more ice cream onto his spoon. "If my boss paid more, I would live somewhere better," you tease back.

The two of you eye each other for a long moment, smiling.

"I'll give you anything you want as long as you stick around, where would I be without you?" he whispers. For a moment, everything is quiet.

But then he sits up straighter, paying attention to the movie starting. You frown, looking down at the ice cream, turning yourself back towards the movie as well.

Your work situation would have been perfect, sure.

If it weren't for the fact that you were absolutely in love with him.

You were never able to pinpoint the exact moment you actually fell in love with your boss.

A part of you had always been convinced it had been love at first sight, when he had shook your hand, grins from ear to ear, and a "You can just call me Ethan." You couldn't lie, you had been a sucker for that grin since day one.

It's the same grin he's giving the television, entertained by the movie.

You look at your phone. 11:34. Fuck. "Actually, Eth, I should be getting home, it's late." He pouts slightly. "Trouble, I thought you wanted to watch the movie with me, we're having fun."

"We have to be up early, and I'm tired."

He looks upset and taken aback, and it makes your stomach hurt. "Trouble, stay. We were having fun, you love this movie. If you're tired you can stay here, it wouldn't be the first time."

You had stood up by the time he had said that, but he had out stretched an arm, beckoning you to sit down. And of course, you sit back down. How can you deny him?

It's the same question you ask yourself the next morning, when a sweaty practicing Ethan begs you to fetch him a Powerade.

"Four years, and I'm still fetching your drinks for you," you sigh, standing up and smoothing out your skirt.

Ethan laughs, continuing to punch the sand bag. "It's cos you love me and want me to succeed!" "You can't get your own drinks?" you yell over your shoulder, opening the fridge he kept in his home gym.

The past four years had honestly been a blur for you. By all accounts, the job was easier than expected. Sure, it meant a lot of travel, and virtually no time to date so you could get over aforementioned love for your boss with someone else, spending all your time with said boss you were in love with, and basically doing a bunch of tasks for him that he didn't have to.

Not to mention how you went from someone who didn't care about sports to someone who lived and breathed professional boxing 24/7.

But Ethan was always nice to you, and over the years, had even managed to cross the territory from "sexy boss" to "sexy friend". Even if you knew Ethan didn't feel anything for you, at least you could safely say he was your friend.

You walk back over to where he was practicing, handing him a Powerade. "Your drink, good sir. I swear, I don't understand how you could be a sick enough freak to drink this at 8 AM, but I digress."

He takes it from you, before stating a line he's said to you a million times. "I hope that when I go through the pearly gates, the first sound I hear is you telling me you got me my drink and sassing me for it."

He unscrews the cap, before taking a giant chug, finishing half the drink in one go.

You snort at the sight, before Ethan sets the bottle down. "Again, kind of makes me sound like your indentured servant," you laugh. He swings, hitting the sandbag. "Or maybe, trouble, I just like hearing your voice first thing in the morning."

"And you didn't interpret that as flirting?"

On the rare occasions you'd have the day off, you'd spend it with Annie, your best friend and roommate. She was honestly the only person on this earth convinced you and Ethan were going to get together and that it wasn't all in your head.

"We're friends! Maybe he just likes hearing a friendly voice," you squeak out. "Or maybe, he's in love with you and you're the first thing he thinks about in the morning," Annie scoffs, turning the car onto the highway.

"Annie, I don't want to be delusional, okay? This is delulu behavior and I won't participate in it. If he was into me, you know, he's had four years to say something, and besides, it's inappropriate, he's my boss!"

"Fine, fine. I will drop it. For now. If you really don't think it's flirting, which it is, then we can forget about the whole thing."

She pulls into the luxury mall parking lot, fitting her car into a compact spot. "But, one last question, why are we picking up an order for him from one of the rich celebrity stores on your day off? This man works you hard enough."

The two of you get out of the car, stretching a little. "I just won't have time to later this week, especially with his match this week," you sigh, as the two of you begin the trek across the parking lot. "Fine, but I'm stopping at the only somewhat normal store here, Urban Outfitters, and you're helping me pick out a new top."

"Deal."

"He's fighting the hot one, Damon, right?"

"Annie, it's a league of young boxers who all have six packs. It's all hot ones."

"Date one of them then, you coward."

The order took a whole of twenty minutes to pick up, but it was the leaving the store that gave you issue. Maybe it was the years of experience living in LA, or just being naturally good with faces, but you spot her 100 feet away, walking towards the store you just exited.

"Oh my god, Annie."

She turns to you, alarmed. "What, what is it?" "Don't look now, but Harini Iyer is in the mall."

"So? We see celebrities everywhere, it's LA. Last week I saw Sabrina Carpenter at Erowhon." You roll your eyes. "No, do you remember who popstar Harini Iyer is rumored to be dating?"

Annie grabs your arm. "Tell me you're joking."

Out of thin air almost, a tall blonde man appears next to the popstar heading towards you two, wrapping his arms around her. "Damon Jones."

Ethan had had a lot of mock beef with other boxes, it came with the PR territory, and his manager and PR agent worked hard to make it look real. But Damon Jones?

You weren't sure what he had against Damon Jones, but Ethan had always despised him. It didn't help that in order to qualify for the biggest championship of his life and career thus far, the only thing standing in his way was Damon Jones, and now the devil himself was marching towards you, with his beautiful pop star girlfriend.

"Jesus Christ. Was he actually sculpted by Jesus Christ?" Annie whimpers, watching the two of them get closer. "No clue, but let's get going before they realize we are staring at them."

The two of you start to walk past, hoping you hadn't accidentally flagged them to your notice of them.

It doesn't work.

"Hey, don't I know you?" You hear the voice behind you. Maybe he wasn't talking to you. "You, in the brown sweater." Okay, fuck, he was talking to you.

You and Annie turn around slowly.

"Yes?" you squeak out, gripping Annie's arm. "I know you from somewhere," Damon says, scanning your face. "I doubt that," you laugh nervously.

"Holy- you're Nestor's assistant. You're like, the goddess of boxing assistants. Baby," he turns to Harini, his eyes huge, "I was just telling you about her. She's like the goat. She gets him all these interviews and cool opportunities."

You laugh nervously again. "That's, that's me," you confirm with a tiny nod. "You're like, my Bigfoot. The white whale."

"That's nuts."

"Say, is Nestor worried about me beating his ass this Friday?"

You shake your head. "Ethan is not a nervous man, and I have all the confidence in him in the world," your voice doesn't waver with nerves. You could stand by that.

"At least tell me, does he have any weaknesses?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." You really couldn't think of any. Ethan was kind to you, but he was tough, in the ring and out. A real fighter. You admired it about him. You continue speaking. "And even if I knew, why would I tell you?"

Damon humorlessly laughs. He looks back at Harini. "Like I told you, loyal. Keeps a secret." Harini nods, giving you a small smile. Damon looks back at you, his expression hard to read.

"Well you say he doesn't, but, there's one I can think of." He eyes you for a second, smirking, before wrapping his arm around Harini, the two of them turning to head into the store. "See you Friday!" he shouts, lifting his hand in a half wave.

Harini turns back to look at you, and for the first time in this entire interaction, speaks. "I love your shoes!"

And with that, the two of them are in the store.

You and Annie stare at the store in shock, processing what just happened. "One time Grammy winner Harini Iyer just said she likes my shoes," you whisper, starstruck.

Annie squeezes your arm, as if to reassure herself and you that it wasn't a collective hallucination. "I think the bigger concern is what the fuck was that guy talking about?"

there's one I can think of.

What the fuck, indeed.

[helloalycia]

the king’s ward [three] // morgana pendragon

summary: as you wait for your brother to recover, you're stuck in Camelot and happen to get spend a little more time with Morgana in the process.

warning/s: mentions of blood, injury and kidnapping.

author's note: and here’s part 3! a lil cute one for those reading 🥰

one / two / four / masterlist / wattpad

By the time we reached Camelot, Y/B/N could barely stand, instead slipping from Gwen's grasp. When we passed the threshold of the front gates, I had to let Gwen and Morgana get him help as I stayed with him. He was unconscious, a puddle of blood on the back of his shirt and the arrow still lodged in his skin, stained. It could have looked worse than it was, but I was no healer, so I didn't know.

Soon enough, some knights returned and carried him on a stretcher, letting me follow. We were taken to the court physician, a kind man called Gaius who immediately got to work in treating my brother's wound. I tried to stay out of the way as he worked, but my eyes kept peering around as he removed the arrow, disinfected the wound, bandaged him up... the blood was a lot. Enough to concern me of his well-being.

"He just needs to rest," Gaius assured me, probably noticing my staring. "I've stopped the bleeding, though the arrow actually did most of that. You were right not to take it out."

I breathed out slowly, relieved. "Thank you so much, Gaius. I don't know what I would've done without your help. I thought he..." I couldn't even fathom it. Shaking my head, I met Gaius' stare. "Thank you."

He smiled and nodded. "Anything to help. Especially for the heroes who rescued the Lady Morgana and her handmaiden."

I didn't know what to say, not fond of the praise, so I took a seat beside Y/B/N's cot, watching as he slept. Sweaty, fatigued and bandaged, but alive.

It wasn't long before the doors to Gaius' quarters were opened suddenly, earning my attention. To my surprise, it was Prince Arthur himself, followed by Merlin. When Merlin caught my gaze, he offered a bright smile and a little wave, making me smile in return. Arthur looked both surprised and relieved to see me.

"Your highness," I said respectfully, bowing.

"I didn't think I'd see you again," he admitted. "But... thank you. You brought Morgana and Gwen home safe. Something not even my men and I could do."

"We couldn't just leave them," I said nonchalantly.

At the mention of my brother, his expression softened and he looked behind me. "How is he?"

"He'll be okay," I assured him. "Gaius did a perfect job. I'm grateful."

Arthur nodded. "Gaius is our very best physician. I'm glad he could get to your brother before it was too late." He paused, before asking, "What were you both doing out there?"

I shrugged, rubbing my arm with discomfort. "We were travelling, finding work. We take odd jobs, usually hired protection or entertainment. It's quick money. And plays to our best strengths."

Arthur cracked a smile, looking down with his hands on his hips. "I suppose you were always a good fighter."

I quirked a brow, wondering if he remembered when I quite literally kicked his arse, but chose not to comment.

"This will bring about a heavy reward," he continued, looking to me. "I'll see to it myself."

I shook my head. "You may have mistaken my words. I wasn't implying anything. I don't want a reward."

"You saved the King's Ward," he reminded me. "That's worth a lot."

"Her life is safe, as is Gwen's," I stated. "That's reward enough. I just want my brother to be okay."

He frowned, confused, but nodded. "If you're sure..."

"I am."

"Okay, well the King would love to thank you properly," he said, crossing his arms. "I'm sure you've had a long journey and will want to stay with your brother. The formalities can wait until tomorrow, if that's okay with you?"

I didn't want any formalities at all to be quite honest, but he was trying to be nice, so I simply nodded.

"Great," he said with finality, before nodding. "Merlin can set you up with a room for the night–"

"I'd prefer to stay with my brother tonight, if that's okay," I interrupted.

He seemed to understand. "Very well. We'll have it ready for you tomorrow then. Good evening, Y/N."

"See you tomorrow, my lord," I said with a small smile, before watching him leave.

I returned to my seat beside Y/B/N, staying close by just in case he needed me. Though now that I knew he'd be okay, all I could think about was Morgana and how she was doing. It had been so long since I'd seen her last – I was certain I'd never see her again, no matter how often I thought of her. And the way in which we met again wasn't one I ever could have imagined. The whole ordeal must have been terrifying – for both her and Gwen. I was only lucky Y/B/N and I found them when we did.

An hour passed with me sat with Y/B/N, thinking about everything and nothing at once; how we'd ended up back here in Camelot, or how long it would take for Y/B/N to get better before we had to leave; or what the King would say to me tomorrow, given the fact that he had never liked me; or about the Lady Morgana and that familiar warmth that spread through my chest when I saw her after so long.

And then just like that, the girl in question appeared at the door of Gaius' room, making me wonder if she was actually there or if my thoughts were running away from me.

"Y/N," she breathed out when she saw me, then let herself in.

Gaius, who was reading from one of his books at his desk, glanced up when he saw Morgana. She flashed him a smile, the two having seen each other earlier when he went to check over her and Gwen for injuries, and then returned her attention to me.

"How is he?" she asked with concern, grabbing a chair from the dining table and pulling it to sit beside me.

"Sleeping, but well," I answered with a tired smile. "Thanks to Gaius."

Relaxing, she smiled, and that's when I noticed how much more comfortable she looked now that she'd freshened up. "Good. I'm glad." And then her eyes flickered down my face, to my body, and to my arm. "You're hurt."

I furrowed my brows, following her stare, and realised there was a clean cut on my bicep, right through the fabric and slicing my skin. Deep maroon dried blood coated the frays of the fabric, along with my arm, and I barely felt anything signalling there was a wound. Shrugging, I looked back to Morgana.

"It's nothing," I told her, planning to leave it as is, though I knew the dangers of doing so. I was just too tired to do much more.

"It's an open wound, not nothing," she said with disapproval, dark eyes fixing me with a stare. "Gaius!"

"Morgana–"

"Yes?" Gaius called back, and I sighed when she began to ask him for help.

After narrowing my eyes at her, which didn't seem to faze her at all, I was forced to allow Gaius to clean and bandage my arm, as well as check me out for any other hidden injuries I'd missed. Once I was deemed okay by both him and Morgana, I was allowed to return to my seat.

"Satisfied?" I asked rhetorically when Morgana took her seat beside me.

"Very," she answered anyway. "I'm sure your brother would be, too."

I huffed quietly, leaning back in my seat as I stared at him. A silence fell between us and though I'd usually want to speak to her, I was too exhausted to think of anything to say.

"I owe you my life," she said, and I looked to her, unprepared to be met with how stunning she looked by the candlelight.

"You don't," I told her, recovering from my temporary stupor. "You were in danger and I helped. That's all."

Her eyes didn't leave mine, a golden-green piercing me with intrigue. "You're even better than before. Your fighting, I mean. There were half a dozen bandits and you fought them off easily."

I shrugged, unsure what to say, and forced myself to look away. She was making me nervous all of a sudden.

"What have you been up to all this time?" she asked curiously.

I told her just as I'd told Arthur, though it was a little embarrassing this time around, solely because it wasn't impressive to her and all I wanted was to do just that.

"Y/B/N takes the lead in arranging any jobs we get," I finished, my eyes fixed on my hands playing before me. "Nobody trusts a woman to handle a sword, hence the masks. If they think I'm a guy, they pay us."

"That's their loss then," she said with conviction, and it made me smile because her belief in me had always been sweeter than I deserved.

Not wanting to talk about me any longer, I glanced up at her. "You look well."

She shrugged. "I've been okay. I'm just glad to see you again."

And there was that warmth again, blossoming in my chest at both her words and the way she was looking at me. It could have been my tiredness or simply the fact that she was the most beautiful person I'd ever laid eyes on, ever, but I couldn't look away from her. The golden glow of the flickering candles made shadows dance across her cheekbones and her eyes were shards of emerald glass, twinkling and sharp as they stared through me. Suddenly, it didn't matter how we'd ended up here, just that we did, for it meant I could witness her beauty one more time.

"Y/N, if you wish to stay here tonight, you can have Merlin's bed," Gaius informed me, pulling me from my moment of admiration. Probably for the best, otherwise it would have been way too easy to get lost in Morgana.

"Thank you, Gaius, I appreciate it," I said, looking over at him in his corner of the room.

He nodded briefly before busying himself with work once more. Meanwhile, Morgana seemed to realise how late it was and reluctantly looked away, pressing her lips together. I forced myself to look away, pushing any thoughts of kissing her from my mind.

"I can't imagine how tired you must be," she said softly. "I'll leave you to it, Y/N. Sleep tight."

"You too," I returned, a heat creeping up my neck the longer I studied her figure; the purse of her lips, the shape of her jaw, the cut of her dress that exposed her collarbone and the milky-white of her pale skin.

Her hand suddenly pressed to mine and she squeezed gently, lips curving into a small smile, before she let go and left. I exhaled slowly, glad she'd left because my feelings for her were only heightening with every interaction we shared and I didn't know what to do.

When I found myself stood before the King the next morning, I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. I missed Y/B/N, who was given bed rest until his injury got better, and I didn't want to stand here as the King struggled to thank me for something I didn't want thanks for.

"It wasn't a problem," I told him after he managed to muster the words. "Quite easy, in fact. I'm just glad the Lady Morgana and Gwen are safe."

Uther nodded, side-eyeing me. "I'm sure. Those bandits... they took my knights by surprise. Otherwise they would have had it under control."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his need to justify everything. "I'm sure of it, my lord."

Clearly unimpressed, the King met my gaze with a tense jaw. "Here's your reward."

As he nodded to his left, a servant stepped forward holding a bag – of money, no doubt.

"I don't want anything," I said as politely as I could. Especially not from him, I wanted to add.

"Y/N, please reconsider," Arthur said, stepping forward and giving me a pleading look. "We can't send you away with nothing."

"You're not," I told him. "My brother has somewhere to rest up and I have somewhere to stay until he is better. That's all I need and I'm grateful. I'll be on my way as soon as he's okay."

"Fine," the King gave in, bored.

"Y/N," Arthur tried again, but I shook my head, making him sigh. "Okay... if you need anything whilst you're here, don't be afraid to let us know."

I smiled, appreciating his generosity. Mostly because he meant it, unlike his father who was only acting out of some forced sense of duty. "I will, I promise. Thank you."

Content with my response, he nodded and motioned with his hand. "Somebody show her to her room, please."

And just like that, I was led to my new quarters that I'd be staying in for the next few days.

With Y/B/N bed-bound, I had nobody to hang around with which meant I was stuck wandering the streets of Camelot and the castle grounds. As I did, I lingered by the training grounds, recognising it from when Y/B/N and I practiced there during the tournament. That seemed like so long ago now.

Today, Arthur was sparring with his one of his knights, the two engaged in a sword fight as the others stood by and observed. I was intrigued, unable to stop myself from lingering and studying their manoeuvres and methods. After the fight ended with Arthur winning, his opponent was getting helped off to the side, another one about to take his place.

"You bored?" Arthur asked when he spotted me, quirking a brow.

I smiled with amusement, crossing my arms. "Just observing."

He wiped his face, sweaty from training, and gave me a knowing look. "I can't get you involved unfortunately."

I shrugged. "I know."

He nodded, gaze lingering on me with partial confusion, before turning to face his next opponent, another knight. They began to fight and I continued to watch, genuinely just observing out of pure interest and because it put my boredom to rest. But then Arthur groaned loudly, still fighting.

"I can't stand your staring!" he shouted between swings, glancing at me.

A laugh escaped me as my presence clearly frustrated him. "I'm just watching, is that a crime?"

He rolled his eyes before disarming his opponent in a matter of seconds. Before the knight could react, Arthur tossed the sword in the air towards me and I caught it instinctively.

"C'mon," he said to me, surprising all the knights and myself. "At least give me a challenge."

Not giving him a second to doubt himself, I quickly moved onto the grounds, grabbing whatever armour wasn't too big and heavy on me, then got into position. Arthur engaged in a challenge straight away, giving the fight his all as if he were compensating for his last defeat against me. There were many close calls for the both of us, but I was able to counter any and all his moves before he could land a strike.

When I realised the fight was going nowhere other than the two of us holding each other at bay, I decided enough was enough and let him land a hit. His sword clanged against my chest plate, knocking me on my back on the grass. Arthur immediately pressed his knee on top, sword at my throat, and cheering and clapping erupted from his fellow knights.

I expected him to be smiling when he helped me up and pulled off his helmet, but only I could see he wasn't. Instead, he leaned close, eyeing me suspiciously.

"You let me win," he stated.

I shrugged, wiping my face with my arm. "I don't want your father's lie to be disproven, do I? You're the better fighter, your highness."

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head, though he wasn't angry. "One day, we're going to fight for real and I'm going to win."

I grinned. "One day."

He shoved me in the shoulder playfully, cracking a smile, before waving his sword dismissively. "Get out of here before my father finds out about this and we're both in trouble."

I bowed sarcastically before leaving the armour and sword behind and returning to the castle to bathe. After getting everything ready for my bath, all that was left to do was get some water. As I was bringing in a bucket from the well in town, Gwen bumped into me in the castle hallway.

"Er, what are you doing?" she asked, eyes studying me with confusion.

I looked down at the bucket like it was obvious. "Filling the tub in my room?"

She sighed quietly, before attempting to grab it off me, but I declined. "That's what I'm for," she reminded me.

"I'm perfectly capable of filling my own bath tub, Gwen, don't worry," I assured her.

"It's my job," she said, tilting her head towards me with disapproval.

"You're Morgana's handmaiden, not mine," I said with a small smile. "Thank you though."

With a reluctant nod, she stepped to the side to let me pass and I continued my task of washing off the sweat I'd built up from fighting with Arthur. After doing that and replacing my bandage on my arm, I realised I was getting hungry.

Wandering around the castle halls once more, I struggled to find someone who could help me locate the kitchens.

"Are you lost?"

I spun around at the sound of a familiar voice, surprised but glad that Morgana was there. "Hi. Yes. I'm looking for the kitchen."

She chuckled, approaching me. "If it's food you're after, I can have Gwen bring some to your room."

Lifting a brow playfully, I asked, "Does Gwen do everything around here? She offered to fill my bath for me earlier."

Morgana suppressed her smile. "Hmm, very well. Let's go find the kitchen then, shall we?"

I stepped to side, motioning for her to lead the way, and she rolled her eyes playfully. Falling into step with her, she led me down some identical hallways whilst making conversation.

"I heard Arthur beat you at sword fighting earlier," she commented indifferently.

Keeping to the prince and I's agreement, I hummed. "Yep. He's good."

She scoffed quietly, earning my attention. "Y/N, you let him win."

Playing dumb, I said, "Me? Let him win? Why would I do such a thing?!"

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at me with disbelief, and I winked playfully, making her roll her eyes yet again. Though this time, a beautiful smile ghosted her lips.

"How's your arm?" she asked, changing the subject slightly.

I wiggled it between us. "Still attached."

"For goodness sake, are you always this annoying?" she asked lightheartedly.

"Apparently," I answered truthfully. "Y/B/N may attest to that, but he hardly counts. He's biased, you see. I'm the more interesting twin so he has to say that."

She massaged the bridge of her nose as she held in a laugh, and I bit my lip to contain my smile. I'd keep spouting absolute nonsense if it meant watching her fight her own amusement.

After what didn't feel like long enough, though that was to my dismay, we finally reached the castle kitchens. There were a few cooks milling about and Morgana had a quick word with one of them, to which they immediately jumped into action. Soon enough, I was presented with a plate of a variety of meats, cheese and fruit.

"Oh, er, thank you," I said, accepting the plate unexpectedly. Then I looked down. "That's a lot."

"It's good for you," Morgana encouraged.

I tried not to laugh before meeting her eyes appreciatively. "Thank you." Looking down again, I knew it was still too much food. "I'll go give some to Y/B/N. He never turns down food."

She smiled. "Sounds like a plan. He's in good hands, y'know. Gaius is the best. He's helped me far more times than I can count."

"He's been far too generous than he needs to be," I agreed. "It's good to know though, thank you."

"I'll leave you to visit your brother, but take care, yeah?" she asked, resting a hand on my arm.

"I will," I promised, smiling when her eyes met mine.

She nodded as a farewell before leaving me be. I ate some food off the plate, my hunger getting the better of me, before taking the rest of it with me to Gaius' quarters where Y/B/N was still resting. He was awake when I arrived, sat up in his makeshift bed and staring at nothing. Though when he spotted me, a bright smile appeared on his lips.

"Somebody's looking a lot better," I said, mirroring his expression. And it was true – though anything looked better than the sight of him bleeding out with an arrow sticking from his back.

"Still a little weak, but almost as good as new," he promised, before eyeing the plate in my hand. "So, whatcha got there?"

I laughed and took a seat beside him, offering him the plate. "Some food for you. Knew you couldn't resist."

As he ate, I talked and he listened. I told him about the never ending hallways of the castle and the giant room Arthur had given me for the next few days and how I could ask for anything and just get it like that and how strange it was to experience.

"That's hardly fair," was all he said afterwards, mouth full of cheese. "I'm stuck in here whilst you get to have fancy food and sleep in a fancy bed."

I stroked my chin and looked up sarcastically. "Hmm, I don't know. Maybe don't get hit by a damn arrow next time?"

He shoved me in the side and I almost fell off my chair, but the laughter still came and soon enough, his eyes were crinkling with amusement.

Half a week later and I'd already felt like we'd overstayed our welcome. Or maybe it was just the discomfort of living somewhere we didn't belong. Y/B/N was still extremely weak, but he could walk, and after much discussion, we decided to leave whilst we could.

I'd enjoyed the past few days here, between not fearing whether I'd get a next meal or being able to see and talk to Morgana whenever I wanted, but it wasn't home. I wasn't so sure where that was yet, but this place was only temporary and the last thing I wanted was to get attached. Though I feared that had already begun.

Though Y/B/N and I had declined any reward from Arthur, he still felt the need to gift us both a horse and enough supplies to last us the week. It was much more than we deserved, but we actually needed this stuff so it was harder to decline. Especially when Arthur insisted.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he said, stopping by the horses to see us off. "You need to get around with ease. Plus, these are some pretty good horses. They'll love you in no time."

Y/B/N and I exchanged glances before I looked to Arthur with gratitude. "You didn't need to, my lord, but we're appreciative."

He nodded before pointing to my brother. "You, take care of yourself. You're not fully recovered." Then he pointed to me. "And you... you owe me a real fight some day. Don't forget it."

I cracked a smile. "I don't think I will."

Arthur seemed content with that answer, a small smile curling at his lips before he turned to stand to the side. Merlin approached us to help Y/B/N load our supplies on the horses saddles. Meanwhile, Morgana stepped forward and took me by surprise when she hugged me.

"Goodbye," she muttered in my ear, arms wrapped around my shoulders.

I returned the hug, goosebumps spreading along my skin as I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her close. She shouldn't have fit so perfectly, was all I kept thinking.

"Be safe," she added once she pulled back, close enough for me to make out the swirls of blue and green in her irises.

"I'll try," I promised.

She smiled, eyes flickering between mine, before fully letting go of my shoulders. "I hope you return one day. I'd really like that."

"I would, too," I admitted, "but the King doesn't seem to like me very much."

"Yeah, he never really was good at reading people," she said quietly. "But I am."

My heart began to race a little, the longer she stared at me, and for someone who was usually so confident, I was beginning to feel nervous. Thankfully, a pat on the shoulder from Y/B/N forced us to break eye contact and the rush of heat up my neck faded with it.

Reluctantly, I moved to mount my horse as Y/B/N did the same. The others lined up and began to wave as we said our goodbyes once more. Y/B/N took the lead and I glanced over my shoulder once more as I followed after him, eyes finding Morgana's. She was already looking my way, smiling softly as she waved goodbye, and I found myself waving back, mirroring her smile. I'd committed her to memory without even realising.

[cowgurrrl]

What Do We Do Now?

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: just something small I’ve been thinking about 😇

Summary: “Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place.” - Robert Brault [1k]

Warnings: talks of the girls (Jane, Sarah, Tess), brief mention of baby daddy, seeing each other for maybe the first time ever (spoiler alert: they’re oblivious)

After you tell Joel about Jane, everything else seems relatively easy to tell him. You spend many frigid nights surrounded by mountains and trade stories back and forth like it's second nature. Sometimes, Ellie has long since been asleep by the time you start talking, and other times she's up and listening. She giggles along or asks questions when you bring up what the world was like before you even knew what cordyceps were.

One night, after Ellie's fast asleep, he brings up Tess. He tells you a story of when she tried to cook dinner and almost burned the apartment down. He laughs as he talks about the look on her face and the argument they had after. You can't stop a smile from spreading across your face. You stopped talking about her when she died. It was too painful for both of you. But now, nothing feels too scary.

"Did you love Tess?" You finally ask after years of wondering and attempting to read their unspoken tension. You thought something might've been going on until he started with you. They might've gotten into a fight or broken up momentarily, but he didn't say as much. You two never really did a whole lot of talking when you were together. Still, you two kept sneaking around even after the first night he showed up at your front door. You don't know if Tess knew. You wish she was here.

"'S a different kinda love, but yeah," he says, staring into the fire to avoid your eyes. "We never said it out loud, but she knew. In another world, we would've been really good to each other."

"Not this one?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"We did our best," he says. "What about you? 'D you love Adam?" You don't miss how he shifts the focus so he doesn't have to keep answering your questions. You make a mental note to circle back around.

"Yeah. I don't know how good I was at it, though. I was… mean and pushy, but he was so kind. Just annoyingly calm and patient."

"In another world, you guys are married?"

"No," you laugh. "No, in another world, Adam is married to… a kindergarten teacher. They meet at school, and she's sickly sweet and perfect for him. She lets him buy her dinner, and the only thing they argue about is how to load the dishwasher. And they've got three kids, and he's just the best dad." It's not a new or spontaneous thought. You've often wondered how Adam's life would've been different if you two had never met. Maybe he'd still be alive and teaching in the QZ school. He'd probably find someone who would let him take care of her. Someone who wouldn't sneak outside the walls or take hit jobs to pay the bills. Someone he knew would say yes if he asked her to marry him.

"And you? What are you doing in this other world?" He asks, and you shrug.

"I'm a single mom with too much debt and not enough money to pay it off. I work too much, and I'm always exhausted, and I still send the yearly emails to her dad trying to get him to respond, but I never get anything, and… my kid is alive."

"Sounds pretty good." Joel finally whispers, and you nod.

"The best," you agree. "What about you? What are you doing in another world?"

"In another world, I take over my dad's contracting company. Tommy and I work on houses all throughout Austin, and I hire somebody to keep the office afloat so I can be home for dinner. I'm tired, but Sarah convinces me to stay up for a movie, so we end up throwin' on some old slasher film. And I spend the rest of my life making things easier for her." He says. This is the most he's ever talked about his life from before with you. You wonder how many pieces of him you still don't know about.

"You think we'd meet in this different world?" You ask, and he meets your eyes. Something passes between you. If someone asked you to explain it, you wouldn't be able to find the words, but you know your heart lifts for just a moment as he stares at you.

"I think meetin' you is one of the only good things about this world," he says with more sincerity than you've ever heard grace his voice. It throws you off-kilter. You don't know what to say or how to respond, but he beats you to it by pulling the rifle over his lap. "Get some sleep. I'll wake you up for second watch." You nod and shuffle into your sleeping bag with racing thoughts and no way to stop them.

When Ellie asks a few days later where Joel would go if he could go and do anything he wanted, he lies like any good parent does. He says something about a ranch and sheep. You're able to envision it for just a second when Ellie turns to you with the same question. You lie, too. "I'd own a dog shelter." You say, making Ellie giggle. She spins her own tale of living on the moon, and Joel meets your eyes with a gentle understanding. You'd never tell Ellie, but if you could go and do anything you wanted, you be raising your kid, and you'd want for nothing else.

Dog shelters and sheep ranches be damned.

[rosyjuly]

galex sugar rush au because i've been hooked on this terrible show and i want baker boys pining and whipping up gorgeous desserts.

The whole thing had been George’s idea. 

“No.” 

“Alex, come on,” George had said, trying to catch Alex’s eye, but Alex had been looking away, handsome face scrunched up in a grimace. 

“Be serious now,” Alex had scoffed. He had finished his coffee with one last gulp and sprung to his feet. George threw his paper cup in the trash and followed him inside, looking at the nape of Alex’s neck as they’d crossed out of the courtyard’s sunlight and back into the dark of the kitchen’s staff entrance. 

“I am being serious,” George had said, trying to keep his voice low, avoid drawing attention to the discussion now bordering on an argument. “Listen, it’s fifty grand – think about what we could do with that money.” 

Anyway, they’re watching the episode now with Alex’s siblings, piled too close together on the couch. 

“Don’t you start it without me,” Chloe says, pointing at Alex, when the microwave beeps. Alex’s apartment is only barely bigger than a studio; with the six of them crammed into the makeshift living room it feels practically claustrophobic, a train carriage at peak hour. The old couch doesn’t have the stamina to support three people anymore and every time Alex shifts it sags and sends George and Zoe tumbling down into the middle, the two of them pooling around Alex in a tumble of legs. George keeps his hands in his lap, just in case. 

“I’m telling you,” Alex groans, “you already know the result! Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” 

“If it was a big deal you’d have fucking made something,” Luca says without looking up from his phone. 

“There’s popcorn,” Alex tells him, nodding at Chloe who’s returning with two bowls from the kitchen. 

“Albono, you’re the laziest person I know,” George says. He drags a playful hand through Alex’s hair; the bleached strands are soft between his fingers. 

“I deal with enough food during my day job if you haven’t noticed, thank you very much,” Alex says, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t pull his head away though. He picks up the remote and presses play, which finally shuts everyone up, even if just while Hunter March explains the rules of the chocolate-themed episode. 

“Aww, I didn’t remember you guys had matching little outfits,” Zoe clicks her tongue. 

“George’s idea,” Alex says, reaching around blindly for the popcorn. He’s right. It was: but it’s just blue aprons, nice cotton ones in a deep navy color, big, practical pockets on both sides. George actually wanted headbands, too, but Alex took one look at the bandanas, and said it’s either them or him. It was an easy choice, after that. 

George crosses his arms over his chest as the other teams are introduced. Most of them look smooth, in sync; he’s been trying to avoid stressing about how he and Alex will come across. 

“We’re friends and coworkers,” he sees himself say on screen, over-articulating the words like he does when he’s stressed. Alex next to him looks almost bored, eyebrow half-cocked at the camera. 

“I got him drunk enough to admit that he hired me because he thought I was cute,” Alex says, flashing a bright smirk. 

“For the record, I don't have hiring privileges,” George-on-the-screen says after a guffaw. George remembered feeling caught out: it’s not like Toto hadn’t asked him what he thought of Alex after his trial shift, and Alex was definitely his type: tall and handsome with an attitude. And he hadn’t even bleached his hair back then. 

“Oh, you guys were laying it on pretty thick,” Zoe says, stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth. 

George hums, crosses his arm on his chest. He and Alex look like as much of a well-oiled team on screen as they feel in the kitchen, leaning close together over the countertop, notebook spread out in front of them. 

“I think we should do something a bit more out of the box,” George-on-the-screen says, sketching up the bottom of the cupcake. “Peanut butter, raspberry, chili – that’s done and dusted.” 

“Why don’t we do a pistachio one?” Alex says. He draws the frosting, dots the top part of the swirl. “Pair it with some nice dark chocolate in the dough, some crushed nuts on top, hm?” 

In the next interlude, Alex says, his apron clean, his hair artfully swept to one side, “He makes it tasty, I make it look good.” 

George snorts, nudges their knees together. “As if it wasn’t you coming up with that concept and like, half of the others.” 

Alex doesn’t answer, but he presses his leg along George’s. 

George still can’t believe Jacques Torres was in the same room, that he tasted their cupcake and liked it – liked it enough to name them the winners of the first round, blown away by the richness of the frosting, the satisfying, salty crunch of toasted pistachios. 

For the confection, the two other teams already picked ruby chocolate, so they settled on gold instead to set themselves apart. George isn’t sure how much footage will be shown of them – probably more, now that one team’s already been eliminated. But he isn’t prepared for the exact moment when Alex-on–the-screen says, ���Why don’t we do ice cream?”, watches with avid mortification how George-on-the-screen immediately nods, face tense, mouth pressed in a thin line. 

“I can do it with liquid nitrogen,” George-on-the-screen offers, already checking the shelves for the equipment. 

“Those glasses are so funny,” Chloe says, phone pointed at the screen. She’s posting a story about it – George can’t wait to see the mocking caption. Better to focus on how silly he looks while he’s taking out the ice cream of the container, goggles and big, rubbery gloves on, instead of the immediacy he seeks to fulfill Alex’s every request. He’s never even used liquid nitrogen before; only knew the technique in theory. And it showed. The ice cream came out a touch too soft. Not even Alex’s carrot cake crumble could save it; the judges were more impressed by the flambéd bananas with the ruby chocolate soufflé. 

But they went through. The girls exhale in relief, and so does George, even though he knows the outcome, has lived it for months now. 

In the final round, they have to create a chocolate wonderland; whatever that means. George remembers the paralyzing fear he felt in the moment, blanking – but Alex was already sketching, his face lit up with excitement, hands moving in sweeping, relaxed motions. 

“And we can do the ferris wheel with salt sticks,” Alex-on-the-screen is saying. 

So they made a realistic Winter Wonderland cake; the fair in a cold, London December, covered in mud instead of snow. A large sheet cake with silky chocolate ganache, on top the barren trees, overpriced amusement rides. 

It must look impressive enough, because even Luca puts his phone away, watches the screen with barely concealed attention. Alex-on-the-screen is making the ganache, pouring heated up heavy cream over the chocolate. When he calls George over for a second opinion, he’s offering the spoon, his other hand cupped under it for any spillage. George-on-the-screen is taken aback, blinking owlishly for a few seconds before snapping out of it and tasting. It was exquisite, of course. 

When they’re done with the assembly and the piping, Alex-on-the-screen asks, “Do you need me to boss you around?” because George keeps hovering at the edge of the shot, fetching salt sticks and shying away from trying to build the freaking carousel. 

“Mate, the editors really liked you,” George snorts, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I had good moments, too! Where are they!”

“Natural charm, what can I say,” Alex says, but he nudges a friendly shoulder against George’s. 

It doesn’t even come as a surprise that they win. Their opponents’ cake was, well, cute, but lacked the kind of single-minded focus Alex and him brought to the table. 

On the screen, he and Alex hug long enough that something starts fizzing in his stomach, hot and uncomfortable. He excuses himself as the music starts up and Hunter March starts thanking them for watching another episode, stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. It can’t be that obvious all the time, he thinks, because otherwise Alex would have noticed it already, would have said something. Anything. 

When he comes out, Alex and Zoe are talking in the kitchen, voices low and hushed. He raps his knuckles lightly against the door. Zoe looks up, face sharp as she says, “I better go, I’m already an hour late to my friends.” Before she leaves, she fixes Alex with one last look that almost makes George flinch. It would be better to flee. Easier, at least. But Alex has always been kind; even if they hadn’t won the prize, if they hadn’t convinced Susie to invest in their confectionery, Alex wouldn’t just blank him. 

The front door closes. The flat is quiet again: it’s just the two of them and the dishes in the sink. George itches to grab a sponge and occupy his hands; shoves them in his pocket instead. 

“Felt weird to see ourselves like that.” 

“Yeah,” Alex says, giving him a small smile. He doesn’t seem mad, truly. “Kinda insane to think about it, still, you know? Winning. Um, the money, of course. Our own place.” He looks down and shakes his head, smiling to himself. 

“We make a good team,” George allows himself to say. 

“We sure do.”

For a few seconds, they watch each other, the silence stretching like a taut bow. Then Alex clears his throat – George tries to steel himself for the blow, school his face into something neutral enough for the rejection. 

“Um. Zoe said,” and he clears his throat again, “she said that I should man up – her words, not mine – that I’ve wasted enough time already.”

“With, uh, with me?” George asks with a valiant attempt to ignore the lump in his throat. 

“Yes– no! Not with the shop, of course, just–” Alex scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck, I’m getting this all wrong, just, let me–” and then he’s stepping in, cupping George’s nape with a hand as he slots their mouths together. George makes a noise that he’d deny on his deathbed – Alex seems into it anyways, he thinks – and presses closer, kisses him back. 

[rontra]

I have never played persona so I wasn't sure if I would understand your failteacher comics but I just looked up the characters for a little bit of context and I'm 👀👀👀👀 at it now xD

Without being too spoiler-y, why would you say they'd have a messy relationship? (Besides the fact of Becky taking advantage of her client's loneliness)

HAHAHA yea i think the like dramatic irony enjoyment of knowing (even just roughly) what's going on with becky is very strong so good on you there (obviously toriumi has no idea what's going on with her and becky is doing her best to Handle It, but it contextualizes her behavior for Us...<3)

it's yummy isnt it... its yummy

anyway, the rest of this very long post is just me analyzing a fictional situation i myself engineered, so if that sounds boring please dont click the Read More LMFAO <- cursed to put a lot of thought into Character Stuff

basically they have great potential for mess, which they're Currently keeping a lid on, but would exponentially increase with time. teehee.

as for what WILL happen, im not spoiling anything concrete of course… (winks at the Knowers who already know my Vision….

well, this AU isn't ever going to devolve into a "super destructive toxic nightmare" mess or anything, just to get our working definitions of 'mess' sorted out at the top of the post. not this time. atm (as of comic #3) it's shaping up more like a "this seems . inadvisable and absolutely Don't Try This At Home, but i guess it won't…kill you" mess (LMAO)

to assess their situation at present… there is one half who wants money (and can't ever make enough of it to satisfy her extortionists), and one half who wants intimacy (and is scared and unable to get it on her own). on its exterior face, it's simply a lonely person hiring a professional to keep them company, which is a fairly common thing n not rly super noteworthy; the parentheticals are what make things a bit uh thorny for these characters

the "problem" here is not the transaction itself; they're both willing to supply their half of the trade just fine, and neither party is doing anything wrong by engaging in it. but for these two specifically, there is also a mutual willingness to bend the rules of their transaction—because they're both cornered in some way, and desperate for what the other one is offering to trade

to elaborate on "rules", i mean, first and foremost, that their relationship is not "real"—these people Don't know each other personally and intimately, and they're Not Supposed To. their relationship should never be "real"; they're not friends! (or lovers, for that matter!) they're in a conditional exchange of money for services. right now, these characters are participating in and maintaining a kayfabe; they should operate under a tacit understanding that A) this is not real, B) they both fully know it's not real, and C) following the script is the comfortable way to get what they both want without causing undue risk to either party. creating and then maintaining a fake "reality" together is regulated by a contract between them, and it ends when their booked time ends (and not a minute over time!)

but to return to the earlier point, they're also both cornered and desperate, which drives them both to go beyond what might be considered appropriate. i think this is compelling; it's probably unnecessary of me to add this paragraph but i want to underline (just in case) that i don't think either of them is like "at fault" or w/e (there is no "villain" between them). they're showing Signs Of Mess that could snowball into something much more messy, but it's not something they're doing to hurt each other; they're making decisions based on skewed risk/reward estimations that might not be healthy, and could realistically have harmful consequences for both parties, but they're not, like, Evil (lol). two women getting wrapped up in each other's personal graveyard spirals…it's yuri, isn't it?

with that squared away, and putting it plainly;

toriumi should not be asking her to "break character" when the character itself is what she's paying for; this nudging of their little kayfabe, if indulged, could easily snowball and erode the professional boundaries between them (what she calls "distance" in #3). she is paying 'becky' to 'be here' (paying kawakami to conjure 'becky' into existence by pretending to be her), but she isn't really being mindful of the type of role that this necessarily demands of her in turn. the built-in emotional walls between them are there to protect both of them, but she doesn't fully respect them (despite instinctively sensing their protection in how "safe" becky feels to her). in the end, toriumi is bad at "staying in character" herself, and she can't help but try to root out the actual person behind the mask—despite the fact that no one wants this erosion to happen! possible dire consequences for her wallet aside, losing sight of the line between "transaction" and "investment" (pardon the pun) is a one-way ticket to a very messy place where one or both of them is likely to get hurt...

on the other end, and not helping the situation at all, kawakami identified toriumi as a soft target pretty much immediately, and is actively trying to elicit sympathy and endear herself to her (she is being quite choosy about what vulnerabilities she "lets slip" in #2) in order to make her keep booking and paying. of course some amount of "salesmanship" is part of the job—#grindset always be plugging smash that like button comment n subscribe—but the major difference here is that she's overtly attempting to foster in her client the exact kind of dependency/personal attachment she should be discouraging (for, frankly, both of their safety). like not only is she out fishing to get toriumi hook line and sinker on purpose, but it's also alarmingly reckless behavior on kawakami's part; there's a lack of regard for her own wellbeing involved here on top of it all. again, a messy place where someone, maybe everyone, gets hurt in the end

crucially though, as comic #3 finishes setting up, they're both willing to endure these shenanigans from the other half. at this stage, toriumi does realize that kawakami has her unilaterally wrapped around her finger, and nonetheless agrees that she'll call her again; while kawakami knows very well how this kayfabe is supposed to work, but is indulgent (even rewarding) towards toriumi for her clumsiness. that mutual willingness to keep playing this game would—if the AU continued on these tracks uninterrupted—probably compound until the situation they've made becomes super confusing and unclear for them emotionally...

of course "taking advantage" is sort of a loaded phrase colloquially… but i would say in many ways they are "taking advantage" of each other, yea. the "we both benefit, so it's okay" logic was already vaguely raised as justification in #3; if elaborated a bit with the above in mind, their situation is one where "even if they're both overstepping what is considered appropriate for their arrangement, they've also both decided the benefits outweigh the costs by a wide enough margin to make it worthwhile"

it's got the marks of a sort of symbiotic relationship... their individual motivations for being involved w each other are totally unrelated (cue the "hold on, does. kawakami even like women???" question), but they both feel they benefit enough towards their priority goals to be OK with the other one taking something "less valuable" from them (toriumi even calls out the “sales pitch” becky is doing in #2, but ultimately decides that’s fine because she’s willing to buy). i think each and every moving part here has great capacity to go "too far" and ruin things (perhaps even causing Severe damage in the collapse), but if the situation were to continue in this same rhythm, without that kind of dramatic change, i would say "they're both evaluating the scenario with their own personal goals in mind, and are extracting what they want from one another relatively(?) peacefully(??)". like it might ultimately be a selfish game but they're adults they'll figure it out probably idk its none of my business what they choose to get up to. wouldn't get into that type of shit myself though LOL

women are playing kind of dangerous games with each other but i forgive them because it's interesting to rotate in my mind...<3

another thorn to consider for their future bonding endeavors from here on ofc is that without being "cornered" the way they are, they would not be running this type of "risk math" in the first place. it's hard for either of them to fully back away at this point because they're already cornered in their personal lives; toriumi is incredibly isolated and lonely with a pretty insecure lifestyle even when she's NOT actively sawing through the branch she's sitting on, and kawakami famously MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE, NEEDS A LOT OF MONEY RIGHT NOW because she's being extorted by an unrelated third party. looking ahead it does kind of start to look like an ouroboros of "taking advantage of each other" bc it's hard for both of them to leave their individual situations; it's kind of like, if they weren't here with each other they'd be ... well, they'd be here—just with someone else...

they didn't put each other in this jam—it was unrelated personal circumstances and sheer coincidence that pushed them together—but now that they've committed to each other, it's hard to reverse back out, if that makes sense. i think that kind of thing is interesting too, because it makes me want to see them recognize this, connect, and help each other pull out of their Greater individual personal messes. you know? we can make it if we try... just the two of us... 😔

(unfortunately step 1 of that is ofc to make a genuine personal bond that isn't wrapped up in all this for-pay roleplay stuff. drat!)

tl;dr they're both simmering under high pressure and don't try this at home, but they do already have a sort of tacit agreement forming that this level of messy play is OK between them—as long as the rewards continue to outweigh the risks. at the end of the day, it's a delicate balance ultimately hinging on a money-for-services transaction, so if either of them stopped feeling like paying their half was worth it, it would rapidly come apart. i guess it's kinda like the ways you can tell if animals are genuinely beefing or just playing rough—are they willingly coming back? 💀 ...

no lmao where's that post thats like "this would be terrible if it was anyone else, but considering the people involved this is actually the best option" HRBHJDJG that's kind of how it feels. like if they're gonna be stuck with Somebody (and they would be), its probably good luck that they got Each Other. at least the narrative can sustain the balance of this one and maybe even solve it down the line. heart

to round this post off i would say if i had to nominate one of them, kawakami is probably the most "in control" atm—since she figured out very quickly that she was dealing with an easy mark and moved in to make her a regular customer (quite successfully i might add per the end of #3 lmaoo). i think that's been kinda fun, since in her SLink she's immediately on the back foot due to being unmasked by the inciting incident. we know she will lie and attempt to play to the listener's sympathy, so unleashing her with her Mask Still On has been fun 😭 for her part, toriumi is not only taken with the funny maid (& emotionally invested in her IRL situation to boot), but also very clumsily trying to obtain something she's scared to have, which makes her very impulsive/erratic in her rulebreaking compared to kawakami's much more intentional plays...

play of the game 🧹 (<- there's no maid emoji idk its housekeeping)

of course, my future plans will immediately jostle this entire dynamic into something else and make this whole post obsolete, but i don't wanna lay that out ahead of time. smiles.

anyway, otome dissection on the playlist or whatever

[eblu3]

alright I need to explain what the hell has been happening here because I don't think anyone here really understands how bad it's been. here's a timeline:

late 2022: I'm still living in my childhood home with my dad, trying to ease myself into being an adult at a pace that I'm comfortable with, still working my part-time remote job. he falls head over heels for a girl from tampa.

november 2022: dad informs me that he's looking to move to tampa to marry his new gf. this means that I have to move out. I immediately get flustered because I am not enough of a 21 year old to understand how to move into a place yet so it gets backburnered.

january 2023: after a grand total of a single night looking at apartments, dad pulls the trigger for me without asking and signs me up for a $2,000/mo luxury apartment with my brother as my roommate and him as a financial benefactor, hiring movers along the way. my head spins as I realize that I have until the beginning of february to get everything set up. I somehow manage to do it.

february 2023: I move into the apartment. noise issues abound but I get used to them as much as I could. my brother still doesn't have a job, I occasionally poke him to get one because I can't foot 2 grand on top of bills and groceries by myself and dad will only help so much.

march-june 2023: I'm trying. my brother gets a job at a fast food place because everyone's pressuring him to get something and quits after a week because he hates it, yet he still takes the car while I'm not looking and occasionally doordashes. I turn 22, my bike that I've been meaning to learn how to ride gets stolen the same day due to neglect. dad decides to, with the financial support from his new wife, send me all the money that he had been planning to give me over the course of the year so his financial support is out of the picture. my work still won't bring me on full time. my brother eventually gets moved into mom's place because I'm fed up with his antics, but I'm not informed about it until it happens so I don't get any say in the matter or time to prepare. I am officially on borrowed time but shove it to the back of my mind because I am overwhelmed.

september 2023: I am officially out of money and can't pay the rent. I have nowhere else to go except for my mom's house outside of orlando, where she had moved for work earlier that year. I begrudgingly put myself into debt to greystar and let dad pack as much of my stuff as he could into a small u-haul and I move into her place.

october 2023: it's cramped. I am living in a three bedroom household with five people in it. the only space I have to myself is a queen-sized mattress in a room with my brother. I am still paranoid about people looking over my shoulder while I'm doing things so I don't use my computer at all. everyone keeps taking both of the cars and I have no public transit or walkability available to me so I'm essentially trapped in a single-family subdivision most of the time. I pretty much just shut down at this point, only doing the bare minimum to survive. when dad and his wife find out that the landlord is mad at my mom, they quickly move to move me out and into their place where I can hopefully recover.

november 2023: I move to dad's place outside of tampa where I hopefully have a bit more breathing room. it's a struggle to get used to grocery shopping for myself again. it's okay but my trauma responses keep getting triggered by him so it's decided that I need to move out again. my mom, who had recently moved out again to arkansas for work and broken up with my annoyingly conservative stepdad, is struggling to pay the rent, so I end up moving there again. I cross my fingers that this will be the last time in a while, I simply need the time to recover at this point.

december 2023: I move there. I pay half of my salary from my job which still hasn't done anything for me to mom, hopeful that I can just lay low and recover because I am fully out of steam at that point. she's still struggling financially but I don't see how anything could possibly get worse.

january 2024: I decide to ring in the new year by trying to be true to myself. I annoy everyone by constantly posting about a single pokemon I like because I simply have no idea how to control a behavior that I've never really engaged in before.

march 2024: I manage to destroy nearly every friendship I have because I use really crap judgment and choose my words extremely poorly, insulting everyone. I am distraught but force myself to engage in a community that had freaked me out prior because I had nowhere else to go. nothing has changed financially at all for me.

june 2024: mom announces that she is at risk of getting fired and that we need to move into a cheaper place ASAP. my job puts me on performance improvement because my stress and anxiety tank my ability to sleep and work. I apply to a new one, referred to by my mom's new boyfriend, as a hail mary. I get sent into a mental tailspin and try to use the upcoming art fight event as a distraction.

july 2024: I try. I get an interview but it doesn't pan out. mom finds an apartment to get waitlisted on, I'm expected to be the guy that owns it. I am just fully burnt out at this point and people are leaving me again because my stress and depression are boiling over and causing me to wallow in perpetual negativity and touch starvation. not sure what to do next. I write this post.

so uh, if you're wondering why I'm a mess, there you go