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scribblesandsherlock · 5 months

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Mike Schmidt: Headcanons & Rant

•Was not tall enough to ride the big rides at the amusement park for most of his childhood. His mom used to tell him he wasn’t getting any taller because he didn’t eat all his food at dinner

•(Going off of one of Abby’s drawings on the wall) One time, Mike was hurrying to make breakfast and in his rush, accidentally dropped some eggs. And he had a mini-meltdown or something b/c for whatever reason, him dropping the eggs was funny enough for Abby to laugh at him and draw a picture about it

•(Going off another picture) When Abby gets sick, Mike will bring her soup in bed and it’s one of the things Abby appreciates the most. He is very nurturing with his sister, and his soft side comes out the most at times like these

•Mike doesn’t actually have anger issues. Everyone thinks he does b/c of what happened at the mall, but he’s actually very patient. (The mall was b/c of trauma, not anger) but even when Aunt Jane is screaming and slandering his name and threatening to take away Abby forever, he doesn’t let it bring him down to her level (and that is so admirable my gosh) The manager at Tire Zone was just a demanding jerk but no one listens to Mike b/c of his history

•Mike is very picky about who he dates. People would think he doesn’t get a lot of girls b/c of what happened but girls get crushes on him all the time. I mean, look at the girl at Dairy Freeze in the mall.

He is just very particular about the kind of girls he brings home. Since he’s raising his little sister, he wants to make sure he gives his heart to someone who would be a good role model for Abby, and wouldn’t mistreat her. At this time of his life, he’s not looking for a girlfriend anyway. Until my fanfics say so💀

•Mike has played Barbies before, and still will if Abby asks him to. And there are no witnesses. He has a “girl voice” he has to use or else Abby will scold him. (you know the meme)

•Mike has to drink a lot of caffeine. Coffee, soda, energy drinks. Using those pills of his often leave lasting effects throughout the rest of the day and the night shifts at Freddy’s only make things worse, so yeah. Mike needs caffeine and don’t we all? 😭

•(After Freddy’s)Before bed, Mike always has to double-check the locks on the door and the windows. It’s borderline OCD for him at this point, b/c if he doesn’t check, then he gets nagging thoughts of William coming in to attack them. Once he quits the pills, he’ll get up in the middle of the night to check the doors one more time.

•Mike still lets Abby sleep in his room when she gets scared or has a nightmare.

•When Abby does the kid thing of saying there’s a monster in her room, Mike is nervous for a half a second b/c…yeah. That’s not unusual in their lives. He’s half-worried when he checks her closet, imagining Foxy sticking his snout in the doors but is always relieved when there’s nothing there.

•Mike cannot sing to save his life. If he does, it’s when he’s in a really good mood and he’s trying to mess with Abby, b/c it’s a running joke how much she hates his singing.

#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf movie #mike and abby schmidt #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt headcanons #fnaf headcanons #fnaf theories #fnaf theory #totally canon

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

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please elaborare on alien yan and them thembo cow reader

(Just a not so little dairy farmer and the extraterrestrial who's got the hots for them and not totally isn't trying to lure them onto their ship)

Fresh mountain air, wide open fields for you and your herd. It wasn't always easy, but this was certainly the life for you.

Early on, you did everything thing to conform to human society. Taken in by a family in a place where people like you were the norm life was pretty easy - say for strangers tugging your horns when you were too small to defend yourself and mooing at you on the street, but that problem took care of itself once you towered over your bullies later on with the strength to match.

The only challenge you faced afterwards was a thirst for a life that never was. Living in a bustling city, you never experienced the outdoor life yourself, but you grew up on the romanticized portrayals - and fell more in love with the real thing when you finally got a taste visiting a close friend's family farm. It was then and there you decided to pack up and move out to the country once you had the funds. As luck would have it, that friend called you up with an offer you couldn't refuse when they heard about your future plans. Overnight, you were the new owner of a farm and on your way to living the life of your dreams. Wished they'd told you more about the surveillance cameras you found hidden around during a deeper inspection of the place, but you'd manage.

You adored the change of scenery. There was a town a couple miles out so you weren't completely alone, but you had your animals to keep you company. Majority of your business comes from that town, but you've been taking a little break recently to take care of your herd and the bizarre events happening around your barn. You normally let your cows go free range, but two of them have gone missing without a trace. You've found strange symbols carved into the wood of your home and fields, the stocks from the harvest bundled neatly at your doorstep. Day by day, you started to regret not asking more about those odd cameras - especially since your friend hasn't answered any of your calls recently, but now's not the time to focus on that.

You've got a visitor.

Tires crunching atop the gravel road, an old beat up truck pulls up to the side of your house. No deliveries were scheduled for today, so you guessed they might've needed some assistance or looking to by something for the road. As the driver steps out of the vehicle, you're fairly surprised. They were big as you if not bigger; a slight hunch in their back obscured their full height. You've never met a human around your size and you couldn't see any features so far that would mark them as a hybrid. It was hard to see most of them really. A baseball cap was pulled over their eyes and the lower portion of their face was covered by a cloth mask. The only reason you knew was because they were staring right at you, all the way over at the open barn. The bovine at your side nudges your shoulder as you look back.

"I'll be back back soon. Okay?" You stroke her head and lead her back to the rise of the ground, picking up the filled bottles of milk and your bucket on your way out. The driver is inspecting your front door by the time you make it down the small hill to your humble home, picking at the flaking wood with their black nails. One foot on the porch and they're back focused on you. You still can't see their eyes or face, but their cheeks crinkle like they're smiling.

"Afternoon."

Their voice is...off. It's scratchy and hoarse like they haven't had a drink of water in days, but it reminds more you of static. Must be rough for truckers this time of year. "Afternoon! What can I do for you?"

The driver looks their feet, brows scrunched as they mutter to themselves. "H...ha.. Happen to have something to drink on you? I'm quite parched from my... travels."

"Course, kind of our main business here." You joke, reaching ingo your bottle for a glass. "On the house. Not to sound rude or anything, but you sound like you need it."

You hand the fresh bottle of milk to the stranger who graciously it off your hands - popping the top and taking a curious sip of the sweet cream. Their jaw shifts as they swish it around on their tongue, stiff shoulders relaxing some.

You fix the bill of your hat, horns making the task the toughest of your load. "Hope it's to your liking. Comes fresh from barn!"

The stranger studies your face and horns; eyes slowly falling to your chest and the cow print pattern of your tee. In a flash they're throwing their head back and down the entire bottle, lapping at its rim and snaking their slender tongue down its hole. It hits the bottom of the glass, pulsing against its floor. Maybe they were a hybrid -longest tongue you've ever seen. They stop only when their hat starts to slide back to fix it. You've never seen anyone so excited for your milk before - you hope the girls will be happy to hear this when you feed the herd later on.

"So, what are you doing in this parts? Haven't seen a delivery truck come by that wasn't one of mine in months."

A hairline crack runs the wall of the bottle. "I.... "ve just been on the road with no destination in mind. Searching for my place in the universe, but the country air is nice too. Think my trucks finally giving up on me, and I saw a sign for your farm down the road. Do you have a room I can stay in till I get it working? Food won't be an issue for me.. I can repay you with my services for now and send some money late on. Please..."

The poor thing. You rest your hand on their shoulder. "Slow down, it's alright. You don't have to pay me back or anything. Just focus on getting back on your feet, okay. The guest soon is a little junky right now since I haven't unpacked all my things, but you can wait in the living room while I'm moving things around. Welcome aboard."

Patting their arm, you swing the screen door open and step inside, inviting the in. Walking closer, their attention is taken by the wind chimes handing above your door, moreso the stains they reveal. The stranger takes off their coat and throws it on the chair outside your home. Your tail swings behind you with each step you take - so close yet so far. No - patience. They already had one slip up earlier with their lines. They'd rehearsed so many times, but not once did they conquer the hypothetical where you asked about them. It was the most logical option, so of course they skipped it. Their sweet cow would do nothing but offer a hand to the unfortunate. That's why they loved you so.

In their searches they found nothing to save this planet from its fate, but in the end one member of it's superior class would live on - in the stars.

#yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere #yandere blurb #yandere insert #monster reader #yandere drabble #yandere alien #hybrid reader

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laundrybiscuits · 1 year

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“Eddie,” Robin says, eyes wide in a way that means trouble. “Edward Munson, I sincerely hope your last will and testament is in order, because you are going to completely and totally die when I tell you who just got hired at Scoops Ahoy.”

Eddie groans. “Don’t tell me Tammy Thompson is giving up on her Nashville dreams.”

“No, I hate you, shut up forever, you’ll never guess.” Robin pauses, then in a dramatic whisper she’s definitely picked up from Eddie himself, says: “Steve Harrington.”

“Jesus. No shit?”

“Yeah, I have to train him. Oh my god it’s the worst. He’s so bad at, like, everything.”

She shoves at his shoulder until he moves out of the doorway of the trailer, and flings herself backwards onto his couch. “Like! Okay! I showed up to my shift thinking it would be a completely normal day in which I would be bored out of my skull distributing frozen dairy products to the flotsam and jetsam of Hawkins, and Ned’s like, hey Robin, you’re showing the new guy the ropes today. And then that freaking jackass has the freaking nerve to say—” Her voice drops a full register. “Uhh, nice to meet you, I’m Steve. Nice to meet you! God!”

Eddie cringes sympathetically, sucking air between his teeth. There’s a special kind of indignity to being so completely and utterly below the radar of Hawkins High royalty, even former bearers of the crown. It’s not as if Hawkins is a big town; Eddie’s pretty sure he could pick every single person in the graduating classes of ‘84 and ‘85 out of a crowd. He’ll probably be able to do it for ‘86 too, though he’s trying not to think about it too hard. So he’ll be a senior again (again) this fall, whatever. It’s fine. It’s whatever.

Once in a while, he wastes some time really, really wishing he’d gotten to know Robin earlier in the year. Maybe even last year. For undying friendship reasons, yeah, but also because with her in his corner, he might’ve actually passed enough of his classes to fucking graduate on his second fucking try.

But he’d only actually met her, like actually met her for real instead of passing her in the hall sometimes, when he’d let himself get suckered into rejoining band. It wasn’t like he could’ve brought his guitar in, but he let it slip to Miss Genovese that he could read music and keep time, and they needed someone to wallop the bass drum, and he figured a little experience fucking around with percussion might be the one thing he could salvage from the year. He’d just…been so goddamn tired of feeling stuck, spinning his wheels. Music was something he could actually handle; something he could actually get better at. Something he could master. He's man enough to admit he needed a win.

The actual songs were all stuffy Holst and Sousa numbers, but they’d had some fun technical bits he spent his evenings hammering out for a couple weeks. And then right around the point when he’d gotten good enough to get bored and think about quitting like last time, it had somehow wound up that shooting the shit with the gangly weirdo in the trumpet section was one of the best parts of his day. Unfortunately, by the time they’d gotten close enough for her to start bullying him about homework and shit, it had been way too late to save his chance at walking that ‘85 stage with assholes like Steve fucking Harrington.

Not that Harrington would’ve even noticed, apparently.

“Anyway, the one singular saving grace about the entire situation is that he looks even dumber in the sailor costume than I do, so at least that will make me feel better about my life until he gets fired for burning down the ice cream freezer or something like that. Eddie, I cannot stress this enough: he is so bad at this job.”

Eddie very tactfully does not bring up the litany of screw-ups that Robin’s admitted to over the last couple weeks since she started at Scoops; he just says, “Buckley, it sounds to me like you might be in need of some quality relaxation time this fine evening. I can offer you a nice cold beer, some herbal refreshment…or a fiendishly weird new song to learn with an intro riff that'll make you cry.”

Robin, inveterate nerd of his heart, sits up immediately and chirps, “New song, please!” just like he knew she would. She’s going to run off and elope with his acoustic one of these days, and he’s not even mad about it.

“Coming right up, m’lady,” says Eddie. “I promise this entire Harrington situation will be over before you know it, and neither of us will ever have to think about him again.”

(ETA: First chapter of this fic has been edited/expanded and posted on AO3)

#new fic time YET AGAIN yes I know I have other things on the boil #seasonal things even #but I have recently spent 36 hours without sleep in airports/airplanes bc the nation of britain is 0% equipped to handle subzero temps #I literally kept myself sane by rereading nice comments I'd saved on my phone so thanks for that y'all #and I just needed to work on a thing that wasn't an angsty mid-90s Steve POV set in chicago; this was next on the docket #I'm just out here vibing with my Eddie & Robin: Gay BFFs agenda #obviously this will be steddie eventually but it feels disingenuous to tag on this part #fyi this will not be fully compliant with Rebel Robin but there may be some details drawn from the book/podcast #fic: purify our misfit ways

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antiquatedplumbobs · 7 months

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Spring 1916

It wasn't often that Will and his old school chums got together these days. Ever since they'd left the small Brindleton schoolhouse, moments in which all four were free had become infrequent. Clive's schooling in Britechester hadn't helped the matter, but the Brindleton based boys had also struggled to see each other with any regularity. Tonight was one of those glorious times that their schedules had matched up, and just in time, for Clive had returned home and they were all celebrating his graduation at The Wet Dog.

"To Doctor Guillen!" John was shouting as he toasted Clive, sloshing much of his ale at the same time. The other men followed suit and yet more ale joined John's on the floor.

The evening had perhaps started along a more proper path, with congratulations all around for Clive's recent graduation and upcoming nuptials to a Britechester girl; these congratulations had of course been accompanied by a round of drinks. Al had then shared the surprising news that he and his wife, Posie, were expecting. Another round had of course been necessary to celebrate the news. Each round had had a good reason to be drunk, Will thought, a bit fuzzily, but for the life of him he couldn't quite remember all of them just now.

Despite the activity of the evening, Will was distracted; Joe's offer stubbornly at the forefront of his thoughts. He had not shared news of it with anyone, holding it close, so it came as somewhat of a surprise when he found himself blurting the news out.

Initial confusion could be attributed to the less than sober nature of the party, but after Will's explanation, excitement overtook.

“I’ll say, that sounds splendid!” Clive exclaimed. “My father’s been thinking about getting a motorcar, it would make house calls *that* much easier. He’s an awful hand with anything mechanical, though — human bodies, sure, but really anything else, and the man’s completely lost,” he said with a laugh. “I’m sure he’d be real happy to have that here in Brindleton. Plus, automobiles are spreading like wildfire; Carissa says you can’t cross the street in San Myshuno without having one honk at you.”

The others were quick to chime in with their excitement over the offer, and Will felt their support wash over him like a balm; suddenly the idea didn't seem so harebrained.

"What did you father say?" John questioned animatedly, "he's always had such a head for all that modern stuff, he'll talk Pa's ear off about new farm equipment any time he's down at the store." John had quickly hit on Will's biggest concern over this enterprise: Hamish's reaction.

"I haven't told him," Will said honestly. "He really relies on my help and I don't want to leave him in a lurch or anything. We've both built the dairy up into what it is now, and I don't know how he'd feel about me leaving; I think we both always assumed I'd take it over for him one day." It was true, Will had spent the last decade pouring his blood and sweat into their expanding business; they were now one of the largest suppliers of milk to the local cheese factory.

Will was realizing that he wanted to take this job with Joe more than he’d ever wanted anything before. In ‘06, when the blight had decimated their orchard, and, with it, any chance for Will to pursue a further education, he had been relatively unbothered; school had held little interest to him. But this was different; he wanted it so deeply it hurt. He had spent so many years with his head down, not allowing any thoughts for a future outside the farm, and — now that he had — the feelings beat upon him as powerfully as the waves upon the shore during a storm. He felt as powerless to resist their pull as a grain of sand to a wave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next / previous / first

#ts4 #sims 4 legacy #the sims 4 #ts4 legacy #sims 4 #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #decades challenge #ts4 storytelling #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #sewell legacy #sewell legacy 1910s #william sewell #sewell 1910s

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justalittlesolarpunk · 5 months

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hi! i have been experiencing The Horrors lately (just general hopelessness about the state of the world and especially in regards to climate change) and i am just wondering - do you have any advice for incorporating climate action into one’s everyday life? i need to do something about this but the problem feels so big that i feel like i can’t, like i am drowning in it and i need to learn to swim

Hi my love, sorry it took me a while to respond, I’ve been quite tired!

So first off, the Horrors are reasonable, it’s a very sensible human response to the state of things around you and shows you have empathy and that you care. I say this because it’s all too easy to shame yourself for despair, but it’s natural that we fall into it sometimes.

In terms of doing climate action a little every day, there’s so much you can get your teeth into. For starters, there are personal choices, like giving up flying or meat and dairy if you can. Sure, these don’t add up to much, but they can really change how you feel and working with a smaller burden of guilt can be life-changing. Similarly making choices like switching your electricity and heating and getting an electric car (or even better, taking the train, bus, tram, your feet or a bus) can help you get into a more positive mindset as you feel like you are ‘doing your part’. Check if you have any savings or pensions invested in fossil fuels and switch them over. Even buying from zero waste shops can help shift your mood, even if it’s too small to shift the whole economy.

Once you’ve got all these little changes out of the way, it’s time to think systemic. Most places will have a local activist group you can join, which usually only involves a commitment to weekly meetings - can you attend XR, A22, Greenpeace or Friends of The Earth gatherings in your neighbourhood? These will usually allow you to start attending protests and keying into wider campaign networks.

Something else you can do is bring the subject up with people in your life, to contribute to a wider cultural shift where climate conversations are normalised, and you can agitate for changes at your job or university/school that will bring the institution’s emissions down.

Try to consume a more balanced media diet, seeking out what is going right in the world as well as what is going wrong. Sites like Positive News and the Good News Network are helpful for this. Supernova is a purely positive social media app if you’re looking for a more uplifting scrolling experience.

But much more important is to get outside and to make real-life community. If there’s a conservation or gardening volunteer group in your area I’d highly recommend getting involved with it - nothing has helped me as much as getting my hands in the dirt, doing meaningful work to grow food to feed my neighbours. A lot of our climate anxiety stems from fear that we won’t be able to feed ourselves or that natural beauty will vanish, so connecting with crops or landscapes is a great way to soothe some of that. Building relationships with neighbours or affinity groups (such as LGBT, POC or disabled organisations) can help you feel part of a more resilient network of people who can help each other out in a crisis. Plus if you get to plant trees regularly I guarantee that will help you feel like you’re contributing.

Solarpunk content is great for improving your outlook too - whether it’s optimistic sci-fi, utopian cityscapes or anarchist politics, it all uplifts you and reminds you of what’s possible. Check out people’s stories of what they’re doing to make the world a little better to remind yourself you’re not in it alone.

If you can afford to, a regular donation to groups working to reforest, re-wet peatland, re-seed mangroves or combat soil erosion is a pretty tangible way to fight the climate crisis. Be sure to do all the obvious stuff like voting and engaging with other political pathways too.

A fun weekend’s activity could be seedbombing with friends or building a bee house - there’s lots you can do that’s crafty or creative that also helps your local environment, even if it’s just growing food or pollinator friendly plants on your windowsill or letting your lawn rewild itself. Taking an attitude of grateful, affectionate kinship with all the plants and animals around you will aid in building a sense of connection with the ecosystem and reminding you that you’re part of a grand, resilient web of life.

Put together the emergency kit I detail in an earlier post, so you feel prepared for facing extreme weather and taking part in mutual aid. Teach yourself to forage or at the very least recognise the common plants in your area. This counteracts species blindness and makes you more considerate of the non-human.

You could even consider altering your career path, if you’re an adult, and re-training to work in the climate movement, though this will not be accessible for everyone. If you’re a younger person you could look into pursuing an educational path that will allow you to join the green sector.

If you can get some, therapy with an eco-informed professional can be hugely beneficial for channeling your very reasonable feelings of terror into meaningful action that benefits you and the planet, though admittedly there’s only so much individualised therapy can do for such a huge problem - perhaps there’s a support group you can go to?

And finally, make sure you take some time every day, preferably an hour if you can spare it, but certainly at least fifteen minutes, to do something you really love, that brings you genuine joy, and has nothing to do with the climate crisis. You can’t pour from an empty cup and you can’t put out fires if you’re burnt out. Rest, regeneration and self-care are prerequisites for sustainable movement building and you deserve to have moments of unalloyed happiness. You are categorically NOT in this alone, you are part of a huge, ever-growing moment full of people who are working towards the same goal even though most of you will never meet. And so while we need you now more than ever, there’s also enough of us that you can take a few minutes to feel better and it won’t cost us the fight. As an older activist said to me recently, even when we sleep our comrades across the world are waking up ready to face the day’s struggle.

Ultimately, a lot of these are just things that have worked for me, and they won’t all be accessible or appropriate to you. Some of them are more about changing your viewpoint than radically altering the status quo around the climate. But I know I fight better when I feel optimistic and well in myself, so these are my suggestions. I hope some of them help, and I want to commend your strength and bravery in reaching out for advice and connection, because that’s how we keep fighting, and that’s how we win.

The Horrors are real, but so are the Wonders. And one of those Wonders is you.

#solarpunk #hopepunk #environmentalism #social justice #cottagepunk #community #optimism #bright future #climate justice #positivity #looking forward #keeping on #activism #sustainability #the wonders

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slavic-roots-western-mind · 4 months

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Life in China: Observations #3

Vitamins/supplements are necessary Especially Calcium and Vit D. Dairy isn't really that big of a thing here (milk boba tea does not count!!), and with cheese being a mythical creature Calcium and vit D are quite useful.

The city never sleeps The big cities at least are always loud and active.

Sugary drinks Sugar is everywhere. From milk-tea to coffee, everything is pretty sweet. Even some of the bread is sweet as I discovered when eating a sandwich.

Interesting flavours Cucumber-flavoured crisps to cheese-flavoured coffee. Whatever flavour combination you deem too outlandish to be true, chances are its real.

Face masks People wear masks for a few main reasons; Fashion, against the cold, against illness and against the air pollution

The aforementioned air pollution It's a thing everywhere. The AQI index thing does not play about. The cold months are the worst, so you'll see people wearing masks very often.

Taobao I mentioned Taobao previously, but seriously. You can buy anything on Taobao. Literally. Clothes, makeup, household items, vitamins. I even saw some people selling rabbits. And other animals, but you get my point.

The New Year isn't that much of a thing here. It's celebrated but not to the extent that the Lunar New Year is celebrated from what I've heard.

The transport/travel system is pretty well connected. Getting around China has little difficulties. The only issue is getting out or into China especially if you're from a european country that doesn't have that many international flights.

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opera-house-twisted-wonderland · 10 months

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𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫...♡

Requested by no one, the idea just came to mind.

Warnings!: Mentions of body mutilation, mentions of broken ribcage, mentions of blood, mentions of tearing off vocal cords, Rook being creepy, Rook being a masochist, Rook being himself, unhealthy obsessive beheavior.

My Dearest, Trickstar.

I assume you're wondering why i've sent you yet another latter, after all you did rip the other ones to shreds. Which i must say, the burning blaze of your hatred warmed my aching heart, positively so! Althought these tears you shed last night after you had just craddled Monsieur Fuzzball to his slumber were quite touching, were you upset at my latest latter placement? If it's a yes, i do beg your forgiveness mon lapin. I suppose that i should be more mindful of my actions in the future, but rest assured, I've risked your bed stand off from my dairy as a suitable option!

Oh dear, it seems i've been getting quite side tracked, did i not? My deepest apologizes. But back to the reason why i sent you this latter... Well, it is quite obvious! I'm absolutely and madly inlove with you! J'taime Mon Chou!

You're the apple of my eye, the blood that pumps in my vains and the air that floods my longs. Without you, i am nothing. I wish to marry you, i wish to embrace you in the dark of the night, for you to wrap your fingers around my neck and tear off my vocal cords with your bloodied nails so i'll never be able to profess to another. I wish you to tear my chest open, and i'll of course help you keep the wound open with my hands and crack my ribcage bones in pieces so you'll be able to gaze upon my heart as it pulses. The heart that only beats for you, and only you Mon Canard. Would you smile? Would you gaze upon me with the same love i carry for you as you craddle my cold corpse? While my eyes get clouded and stuck staring at you for eternity? I wonder.

By your darling admirer, Le chasseur d’amour.

#Yandere Rook Hunt #Yandere Rook Hunt x reader #Rook Hunt x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #Twisted Wonderland x reader #twst x reader #Yandere Rook x reader

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anandrettisimp · 11 months

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It’s that time of year again, the milk selection for the Indy 500.

I’m gonna preempt you lot by answering some questions:

Do they offer lactose free/alternative milks?

Yes, the American Dairy Association are on record saying they will offer alternatives if requested.

Of the field that I’m aware of Scott Dixon is vegan (though this is since he won his only 500) as is Conor Daly while Will Power is lactose intolerant (but he’s colourblind and says his favourite drink is chocolate milk, survival skills is none with this man). As you can see, none have select it.

Why Milk?

Back in 1936 Louis Myers asked for a glass of buttermilk after his victory as he had always been told by his mum it was a refreshing drink to have on hot days. He’d also had it after his 1933 victory but he hadn’t actively asked for it them. It faded for a while, in fact for a couple of years it was instead a silver jug in the style of a water bucket filled with iced water as "Water From Wilbur" and given by track president and three time winner Wilbur Shaw. In 1956 with the dairy sponsor (including money towards the winner purse) a bottle of the white stuff was back and has been ever since.

Now they use to still have buttermilk as an option until quite recently. The reason it was dropped is that rather than it being the drinking kind they had, it was rather cultured buttermilk which is more of a baking ingredients.

Has anyone drank something other than milk?

Yes, in 1993 Emerson Fittipaldi, wanting to promote his grove back home drank orange juice.

It went down badly.

Even though he did drink the milk after (at team owner Roger Penske’s insistence), it was during an ad break for tv watchers. He would apologise and donate $5,000 from the Dairy Association to charity.

He still got booed at the next race in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, aka America's Dairyland.

….

If you have any more questions then just reblog with them and I’ll try and answer~

#indycar #indy 500 #milk

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maxknightley · 1 month

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Are you vegan and if not how come

nah

I'll freely admit that industrialized animal agriculture - at least as it exists in the world today - is, quite frankly, deeply cruel. in the case of cattle in particular, it's also extraordinarily wasteful - though this is less of a concern when it comes to, say, poultry. at the same time, I think individual consumer choices have negligible impact on the meat industry as a whole; with that in mind, I rank the flavor and nutritional value of meat & seafood above whatever I might achieve by cutting them out entirely.

that being said, I tend to consider veganism kind of silly in comparison to "ovo-lacto vegetarianism." my reasoning for this is simple: have you ever stopped to really consider how fucking good eggs are? they're the perfect food. high in protein, plus a healthy but not overwhelming amount of fat. a distinctly unique yet mild flavor profile makes them a great addition to a massive variety of dishes, and that's not even touching on how useful they are for baking. they're also dirt cheap and chickens pump them out like crazy. if my life depended on it I could maybe give up meat but I absolutely could not give up meat and eggs and dairy. the very thought makes me shudder.

I did manage to cut myself down to near vegetarianism - one to three meals containing meat in a given week, usually on the lower end - for a while in college. but I pretty much did that just as a test of willpower, to see if I could commit to it. and after two years I was like "alright yeah I think that point is proven" and went back to eating Whatever (until I converted to Judaism and cut out pork, shellfish, etc). this isn't really related to the actual Merits of eating meat vs. not eating meat, I just thought it was a fun fact.

#ask #anon

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happilybredbellies · 9 months

Text

“Thanks for choosing me mister,” Heather said, smiling up at the man as she opened her jacket to give him a good look at her bikini-clad curves. “I promise you won’t regret it! I’m allllll yours till morning, so just tell me what you’d like to do to this curvy little body of mine first!”

Inside, Heather was trying her very best not to vomit. As a cop, pretending to be a ditzy high-class escort for this snobby businessman was just about the most humiliating thing she’d ever done, but there was no way around it. This man was supposed to have ties to the local cartel, the same cartel that her partner had been looking into when she disappeared close to a year ago. The brass might've written the woman off as dead, but Heather wasn’t about to give up on her friend so easily. While it pained her to resort to playing the part of a prostitute, it was the only way she knew of to get at the files he kept in his penthouse safe.

So Heather swallowed her pride, making sure to keep the vapid smile plastered across her face as she stripped off her clothes and spread her legs wide. This man was nearly twice her age. It shouldn't take long to tire him out, and once he'd blown his load and fallen asleep Heather would have free reign to start snooping around.

“C’mon big guy,” she teased, steeling herself internally, “take me for a spin and show me what you got!”

2 Years Later

Heather groaned, rubbing a hand over her bloated dome of a belly as she plopped down on one of the communal beds she shared with the other cows. Her twins were overdue and had been kicking practically non-stop all week, but that wasn't a valid reason for taking time off work. If anything, the constant stimulation her children provided only served to make Heather more productive, as the dark stains currently forming on her shirt could well attest. The door to their living quarter swung open barely a second after she sat down, revealing one of the cartel’s goons.

“Mornin’ ladies,” he called, gesturing back out the door. “Better get moving. The Boss wants you girls in your pens and pumping as soon as possible today. Word is he’s just snagged another cow for the herd and is looking to give her ‘the tour’.”

Heather stood, grunting with the effort of heaving her gravid figure up off the bed. She made no complaints as she waddled out the door along with a dozen other women, all former cops, all now in varying stages of pregnancy. The businessman Heather’d been looking into two years ago had turned out to be the hidden leader of the cartel, and he had a…unique way of handling any women who got too close to that truth. The memory of Heather’s own ‘tour’ was seared into her mind. She could still remember the terror that’d gripped her heart as the Boss walked her down the rows of pens, letting her see the heavily pregnant women inside squealing in pleasure as industrial grade milking machines pumped streams of sticky white liquid from their swollen tits. But that hadn't been what broke her. Rather, it'd been the sight of her old partner, the very person she’d been trying to save, staring out at Heather with unfocused eyes as she climaxed from labour pains, the head of her child already poking out from between a pair of thick, motherly thighs, that ended up shattering Heather’s fragile hopes for rescue. Well, that and all the aphrodisiacs, fertility boosters, and growth hormones laced into every meal she was given.

Thanks to that cocktail of drugs, Heather’s breasts soon expanded into a pair of proper udders, and it wasn't before she found herself hooked up to a milking machine of her very own. Despite her initial reluctance, Heather ended up settling quite nicely into life as the cartel’s newest dairy cow, enjoying days spent mewling in pure delight as each spurt of milk sent pulses of pleasure shooting up her throbbing nipples. The breastmilk of captive policewomen was apparently quite the hot commodity within the criminal underground, and the Boss’ ‘open pen policy’ when it came to fucking them had made him quite popular, both among the guards and their increasingly needy livestock.

Today, as the men fastened cups around her dark, swollen teats, Heather simply leaned back against the stall and let out a happy sigh, already feeling the pressure in her milf-stuffed tits beginning to ease as she reached around her giant belly to finger her dripping snatch. She didn’t even notice the Boss entering the pens until he was right on top of her, but the slim young woman at his side looking strangely familiar. It took a moment to place the girl, but then it clicked. She’d been one of the station’s newest recruits, fresh out of the academy and always pestering Heather for advice during her last few months on the force.

Now, judging by the horrified look the girl wore as she stared down at the fertile cow her old mentor had become, it seemed as though the girl was starting to regret her decision to follow in Heather’s footsteps. Heather simply smiled up at the slender girl, trying to communicate to her the wondrous future that awaited her once she’d plumped up a bit and finally had a baby or two rounding out that flat tummy of hers. But the smile twisted abruptly, becoming a grimace as there was a sudden pressure between Heather's legs, accompanied by the sound of something splattering onto ground beneath her. Her water had broken.

“Understand? This is what happens to women who stick their noses where they don’t belong.” Boss said, forcing his newest pet to watch as Heather began pulling herself into a squatting position. “That’ll be you in a few months, just another fat breeding cow for my herd, happy to spend the rest of your pumping out milk and babies for the cartel. Don’t worry, the drugs will make sure you end up loving every second of it, even during childbirth.” He turned to Heather. “Isn’t that right, cow?”

The first contraction slammed into her as if waiting on his cue, the pain converted into a wave of indescribable pleasure that washed over her entire body. Heather came immediately, squirting all over the floor as the former policeman let out a long, throaty “Moooooooooooo!”, already feeling the first of her babies starting to slide out of her womb and into her birth canal.

The younger girl tried to recoil in disgust but the Boss just laughed, holding her in place by her hair. She'd soon learn to obey, just like Heather had before her. Like it or not, she was a cow now, a member of the herd, and cows like them belonged on a farm.

#pregnant #pregnancy #preggo kink #pregnantbelly #corruption kink #lactating kink #drugs #birth kink #hucow fantasy #noncon kink

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natashasnoodle · 2 years

Text

Sure You Aren't | Natasha Romanoff x Daughter!reader

Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

Words: 2.3k

Summary: Fun at Auntie Lena's house :)

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Raindrops pelted the car like mini bullets on your journey to your Aunt Yelena's house. Being an eleven-year-old, this gave you the opportunity to entertain yourself during the couple of hours it took to reach the house.

You watched your passenger side window intently as the many raindrops competed in races. The races may not have been real, but the disappointment felt when your chosen raindrop didn't win was. It was real to you.

Excitement ran through you when the rain somehow got even heavier, the races had become a lot more interesting. You had to restrain yourself from hopping in your seat when your designated raindrops won three times in a row.

One thing that kept distracting you, however, was your mother in the driver's seat huffing away at how bad the weather was and how it needed to end soon.

You frowned slightly, the rain was your favourite weather so you didn't want it to stop any time soon. Though your mother who was driving was incredibly concerned about your safety and was mindful of the fact that the road was a lot more slippery than it was at the start of the journey.

Your mother's frustration had been enough to distract you from the adrenaline-filled raindrop races, and so instead your train of thought went to how bored you were in the car. It had been an hour since leaving your house, and quite frankly you would rather be at home again.

"Mom?", you questioned as you turned to face her, drumming your fingers against the armrest between the two of you.

She briefly looked over at you in acknowledgement before immediately snapping her eyes back onto the road, still mindful that these were not good conditions to be driving in. "Yes, малыш?".

"How much longer", your voice came out in a much more whiney tone than intended, you had honestly tried to keep your tone level knowing that your mom would tell you to talk properly. But you were so bored.

Your mom let out a dry chuckle whilst shaking her head gently, "What's with the whining?", she teased and looked at you with a pout.

"I'm bored", you dragged out with an even more prominent whine as you threw your head back onto your headrest. "I'm trying not to kill us here, hun", was the response that you got as she gestured at the windscreen wipers that were giving zero visibility.

You grumbled a bit knowing that there was nothing you could say to respond to that. "Aww, is my poor baby bored?", your mom once again mocked with a pout.

"Mom!", you tugged on the edges of your hoodie sleeves and your cheeks turned a shade of scarlet from your Mom making fun of you. "Okay, okay", she surrendered knowing not to push it, you had entered that delicate age group where everything causes some form of embarrassment, "We still have another hour left".

"Are you kidding me?", you groaned and once again pressed the back of your head into the headrest. An hour was too long to be doing imaginary races in your head. You needed out.

Your Mom's tone of voice with her reply of "Watch it, you", made you snap your head to face her, thinking that you had somehow gotten yourself into actual trouble. Not that you found that a difficult task these days. But when you saw her eyes flash with amusement as she briefly looked at you, and the smirk that rested on her lips, you knew that she wasn't serious.

Thank Thor.

"But hey, we get to hang out with Auntie Lena all day", she tried to reason with you and stifled a laugh at seeing you weighing it all out in your head. "Yeah, okay", you shrugged, trying your best now to show childish excitement, but inside a bunch of party poppers were going off.

You didn't see the way that your Mom's eyes practically rolled all the way to the back of her head. What a lovely phase you were going through. How she missed the days where you would loudly show her new dances in the middle of the Dairy aisle in the shops, but now she would just breathe and you would tell her to stop embarrassing you.

Some parents would get upset at their child entering this stage of their youth. She just saw it as an opportunity to see just how easy it was to push your buttons. Turns out it was incredibly easy.

You were relatively quiet for the rest of the drive, silently listening to the radio. Now would not be a good time to annoy your mother as she drove through torrential rain on fast roads.

You and your mother got on like a house on fire, you were both incredibly close. She was your best friend more than anything, but she could still scare the crap out of you if she needed to.

Most people experience that terrifying 'Mom Stare' when you royally screw up. However, you had to experience the 'Natasha Romanoff Mom Stare', and man, that was a whole different ball game. You had seen it multiple times throughout your life, but you were still certain that when she pulled that card, you would die.

Though your mother wouldn't really kill you, right?

As this train of thought passed through your head you eyed her side profile suspiciously. "Y/n, what are you doing?".

You quickly looked back to the front, your ears turning a shade of pink at being caught. "Just thinking". Natasha just shrugged it off, she didn't have time to be thinking about anything else other than not killing you in a car crash.

---

"Aaaaand we are here", your mother smiled at you as she yanked the handbrake up.

You were ecstatic, your Aunt Yelena was your favourite person, after your Mom of course. So, she had to follow you out of the car as you sprinted over to the front door and started banging frantically on the door. Your mother was about to scold you for being annoying, but the door suddenly flung open and she watched as a rush of blonde engulfed you in a big hug and swung you around in circles a few times as you both laughed. Natasha couldn't help but smile softly at the sight in front of her.

"Is that my favourite niece?!", Yelena half-shouted as she put you back down onto the floor and ruffled your hair up.

"Aunt Lena, I'm your only niece", you giggled as you tried to flatten your hair down, unsuccessfully.

Seeing your hair still looking like you had been dragged through a hedge, Natasha moved forward and licked her hand before running it down your hair to make sure the frizz wasn't frizz anymore. "Ew Mom! Gross", you began freaking out and raking your fingers through your hair.

"You came out of me and you're worried about a bit of spit?".

Your face scrunched up at your mother's words, "That's the worst Mom phrase ever".

"Yes Natasha that was a low point even for you", Yelena deadpanned whilst Natasha looked between the two of you ganging up on her. She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation and moved forward to give her sister a hug.

"I knew you loved me", Yelena joked as she patted her back in return before gesturing for the two Romanoffs to make their way indoors.

"Where's Fanny?", You asked as you moved forward into your Aunt's living room, it was rare for the golden retriever to not greet you yet.

"Oh, Miss Fanny is locked in the kitchen. When I open the front door now, she's had a habit of running away recently and I am sick of chasing her like a maniac down the street", she turned her head to see you giggling slightly imagining your ex-assassin Aunt sprinting down the street after her dog. "It's not funny Y/n Romanoff!", she exclaimed whilst pinching your rib.

"Sounds pretty funny to me, right Mom?", You turned to face who was looking at you disapprovingly but also had the same amused glint in her eyes as you did. "Don't laugh at your Aunt".

"Thank you!", Yelena exclaimed whilst throwing her hands up in the air as she moved towards the kitchen to let Fanny out. Though her smile was short-lived when Natasha continued, "No matter how stupid she may look".

You burst out laughing at the way your Aunt's face snapped around to turn to the both of you. If looks could kill then the Romanoff bloodline would have ended there and then.

Immediately you pursed your lips to avoid the likely scenario of her grabbing a vase from the table next to her and launching it at your face. Being struck down in your prime wasn't on your bucket list, and your Mom probably wouldn't appreciate it either.

"You know what, I'm just going to let Miss Fanny deal with you", was the last thing your Aunt mumbled before opening the kitchen door, and out bounded Fanny. Loud barks painfully rang through the house as the dog sprinted towards you like you were her next meal. You loved Fanny though, so when you saw her barreling towards you, you dropped to your knees to allow yourself to be engulfed by the fluffy dog.

Your laughs echoed through the room as you started excitedly patting Fanny whilst she began sniffing you frantically, inhaling your scent that she hadn't smelt for a while. Yelena was also laughing at seeing your small stature being completely covered, and Natasha looked on with pure adoration at hearing your giggles. Her favourite sound in the world.

"Okay Fanny that's enough", Yelena pulled Fanny away from you to allow you to catch your breath. Your Mom laughed at your dramatics when you flopped to the floor in a starfish position with your chest heaving.

"Come on drama queen, get your ass up", she lifted you up from under your armpits, and you had expected for her to put you down onto your feet to be able to stand, but instead she walked through to the living room with you in her hands, Yelena trailing behind curiously.

"Mom, what are you- umph". She had launched you onto the couch. The lion, the witch, and the audacity of this b-, "That was rude", you deadpanned whilst plotting revenge in your head. She just pulled a face and began to walk back over to her sister, so you decided that you had to act fast.

You reached behind you and felt for a cushion before pelting it at the back of your Mother's head. "Y/n..." your Aunt warned as your Mom halted in her tracks and slowly spun around on her heels, daring you to make another move. You gulped when she bent down to pick up the cushion and held it in her hands, looking like she was examining it.

Frowning, you stared at her, why was she looking so intently at a cushion? Before you had much longer to think about it, she threw it back at you with full Black Widow force. The noise of it hitting you and Yelena rushing forward sent Natasha into hysterics.

"Get your grubby hands off of my cushions, I spent ages puffing these up before your visit!", Yelena panicked and began patting the cushion down after launching you onto the floor to give her room.

"You- you puffed up the cushions?", your Mom asked with what could only be described as pure confusion. Auntie Lena was not the type of person to puff up cushions to impress people. "Well I wanted to give the impression that I am more put together than I actually am", she defended with a huff.

Her response earned more laughter from you, "And you thought that cushions were the way to do that?".

"When did my favourite niece gain such an attitude, huh? Where's the tiny, sweet Y/n gone?", Yelena mocked whilst your Mom shrugged, also wondering the same. "She's in hiding", you grinned.

"Well, we'll just have to find her won't we?", your Aunt scooped you up from your place on the floor and tossed you onto her shoulder. "Put me down!", you screeched as she took off on a run through the hallway and out of the front door. In between your fits of laughter as she ran around her front yard and down the street, you kept telling her to put you down at once, but your efforts were futile, and all your Mother did to help was record the whole ordeal.

---

Your day with Yelena was tiring as always, so when your Mom saw how your head kept falling forward before you jumped awake again whilst sitting in the passenger seat of her car, she wasn't surprised. It happened after every Yelena day visit.

"Малыш, let yourself fall asleep, it's okay".

"No Mama, I'm not tired", you said through a yawn making her roll her eyes in amusement. If the yawn wasn't telling enough, then the fact that you had called her 'Mama' certainly proved her right as you only went back to that when you were almost asleep.

"Sure you aren't", Nat laughed when you once again jumped awake and covered it up with a cough.

"I'm not a child I can stay asleep until we get home", you defiantly tried to figure back, but your eyes closing of their own accord really didn't help your case, and only caused your Mom to silently chuckle when shaking her head.

"I believe you", she reassured just to make you feel better even though it was clear as day that she thought that you were lying through your teeth. Plus, she found it funny how you didn't constitute eleven as a child but that was an issue for another day. So, instead of pushing back to your comments, she started humming a lullaby that used to work like a charm.

You looked as though you were going to protest her methods, but by the time that you tried to turn to her it had indeed worked and your head slumped onto your shoulder as you succumbed to the darkness.

Natasha briefly looked over at your sleeping figure with fondness. Even though you thought otherwise, you were still her little baby.

"Please stop growing up so fast", she whispered as she turned her attention back to the empty road in front of her.

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Natasha Romanoff Taglist: @diaryoflife

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x daughter!reader #natasha x daughter #natasha x child!reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x you #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow #mama nat #mama!nat x daughter!reader #auntie yelena #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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blogginthewind · 2 years

Text

It Isn’t About Cheryl

You are Cheryl Blossom’s best friend. She thinks you’re mad at her. Turns out you’re not. Sweet Pea x reader / sick!reader

You were Cheryl Blossom’s best friend. You had been since you had taken your very first ballet class as toddlers. Whenever Cheryl was lonely or needed someone, you were there right alongside Jason until… Until. When Jason had died, Cheryl’s whole world shattered. At one point, she even stood on the thin ice at Sweetwater River, hoping to join him. It was the only time she had seen you that angry.

“You are not going to leave me behind, you understand?” You had screamed, while Veronica and Betty tried to get you to be calmer with her. You had brushed them off in angry tears. “No. No! If you go, I go. Do you understand? We are a non-negotiable. You have to know that.”

She loved you dearly and could be a tad bit overprotective when it came to things such as say, dating. Cheryl had wanted you to marry Jason and officially be her sister, something you had thought of as well. Jason’s death had crushed you too, the boy that you loved for years had not only passed away but been engaged to another. You had a brief fling with Reggie Mantle, which Cheryl now wished she hadn’t allowed, then ended up with more tears. Yours. Not his.

So when she met you at your locker one morning, your vanilla swirl latte in hand, she was surprised to see you scrunch up your nose. But you took the cup anyway.

“Thanks, Cher. I just have a bit of a stomach ache. Mom made oatmeal for breakfast and made me eat the entire bowl.”Your mother was a notoriously awful cook and oatmeal was a bland, lumpy food already. Plus, you almost always had a bit of a stomach ache. Stress, nerves, too much dairy. It wasn’t that abnormal.

“My condolences. So we’re still on for the new stunts with the Vixens after school, yes? Then we can celebrate. I’m thinking of a movie musical marathon. Sing-a-long required. With cherry phosphates from Pop’s. My beloved can join us if she wish. If not, it will just be us but that has always been good, yes?”

You nodded. Cheryl smiled. Most people found her to be a bit…much. She worried about over-showering Toni with love, though she deserved every bit of it. You never seemed to get tired of Cheryl though. And you hadn’t hesitated to forgive her when she may have blown you off a few times at the start of her relationship. When she looked over, you were on your phone, smiling at a text message. Ugh. Sweet Pea.

Cheryl didn’t have a problem with the Southside Serpents, Toni was one, after all. She didn’t even have a problem with Sweet Pea, per se. He was a good friend to the girlfriend she adored and she trusted Toni’s judgment but you had taken quite a shine to the boy so she had to be cautious. After all your heartbreak, she had to be careful. Sweet Pea was known to get into fights and react emotionally. While you claimed you and Reggie were friends now and he hadn’t been able to help his feelings for Veronica, Cheryl had no problem allowing him to house all the blame. She looked at you again. Your cheeks were heating up. You were blushing. Were you pale behind the blush? It was clear that you were enamored with the boy. When Toni had asked you to help tutor her friend, Cheryl hadn’t been concerned but now? Her concern was high.

She shared her concern with Toni later that day, as they waited for you at their lunch table. The other Vixens would join them soon, you along with them. Toni shook her head, adorable but unable to see reason. “Babe, he’s a good guy. I’ve known him forever. Besides, it’s none of our business if they want to see each other.”

The conversation was ended when the others arrived. You picked at your lunch, your favorite salad, which Cheryl had the chef make specifically for you. She was annoyed at Toni’s lack of alarm and that caused her to snap at you in a way she immediately regretted but didn’t acknowledge to save face. “Do you still have a stomach ache? We have a very important Vixen’s practice after school.”

“I’m fine. Thanks for your concern,” you grumbled back sarcastically as you took a huge bite of the salad as though you were suddenly starving. This surprised Cheryl, as you very rarely snapped at the girl. Toni gave her a look but Cheryl felt herself prickle. She had taken the time to get your favorite latte, which you barely drank, and to have your favorite lunch made for you. So, even if she was a little snippy, she had earned some leeway. Usually, you would both brush these things off. Instead, you powered through your salad before loudly and pointedly announcing how much you loved it. Sarcasm. Since when were you so rudely sarcastic with her?

The prickles lasted throughout the day until Vixens’ practice. Cheryl watched you from the corner of her eyes throughout the day. When she caught you grimacing and rubbing your temples, she was going to brush everything off as a headache but then Sweet Pea said something to you and you smiled and laughed. Cheryl was your best friend and it was some temperamental boy you were smiling at? Ridiculous. Unacceptable.

“Let it go, babe,” Toni told her as everyone lined up for practice. The weather was finally nice enough for them to be outside. Kevin, Fangs, and Sweet Pea loitered in the stands. The football team practiced on the other end of the field. It should have been a good day. Something was going on with her best friend. Were you actually mad at her? Over a silly comment? You always had a stomach ache. It was a thing. Cheryl didn’t feel bad. Not at all. Really. “She’s been weird all day. Sweet Pea asked me if I knew what was wrong with her. Something about groaning or moaning or whatever.”

Immediately, she was filled with worried. Groaning? Moaning? About what? Her? Cheryl knew she should relax. Let it go. Talk to you. Instead, she stepped away from Toni and clapped her heads, calling the girls together.

“Alright, Ladies! HBIC is speaking. Our new routine is fire. Or it would be if you all would stop fumbling. So we’re running it until we get it right. Start from the beginning and go through until my solo. I. E. The only part of the number that is currently flawless.” The girls began the dance as Cheryl stood by the radio. It was a solid synchronized beginning that broke off. Toni and Lisa took the front while you and Veronica were lifted into the air. You were tossed and gently placed down and then the girls made a path for the soloist, who would be Cheryl, of course. The first run was shaky, which Cheryl informed the girls better be a warm-up. The second run was better but not good enough. Not perfect. Everything had to be perfect.

What surprised Cheryl was that you were dragging your feet. You never dragged your feet, dancing being your first love. Your mother ran the town's dance studio and you practiced your moves until they were perfect. Almost annoyingly so. Cheryl kept any jealousy she felt about your talent to herself because she loved her best friend. When Cheryl went to your dance competitions, she was filled with pride. She made everyone run it two more times.

“We’re getting better but still not quite there. Ginger, your arms need to be straight for the opening move, don’t flail. Veronica, adequate. Betty, try to look…I don’t know, interesting? And your kicks need to be higher and crisper. Get Veronica to help you if you can’t figure it out. And Y/N, get it together, please. We’re the River Vixens, not a charity team.” A stunned silence followed her words and no one moved. Cheryl never snapped at you, she never had to. Your face burned red and you moved into position to start the routine. The other girls followed you. You had a strange look on your face and Cheryl thought she saw tears in your eyes. Still, she hit play. She wasn’t even watching the girls, instead watching you give your all but still seem….off. When the girls tossed you into the air, you missed all your marks. When they caught you and placed you down, you froze causing Betty to bump into you. You stayed frozen in place until Cheryl paused the music. “Y/N! What is going on with you?”

Cheryl took a step towards you. Her commanding voice was gone. The tears were back in your eyes and you seemed to be shaking. “Okay, you’re officially freaking me out, Y/N. Is this about lunch? I’m sorry I snapped at you, okay? You’re my -”

“I’m going to be sick.” You announced before darting off the field. There was no sarcasm to your voice. No anger. Only a terrified certainty. You had never been angry with her at all. You were ill.

“Toni, take the girls through the routine again. I’ll be back.” Cheryl took off after her friend, prepared to hold back her hair like you had done for her so many times before. Before she rounded the corner, she stopped. You were standing next to a large trash can, gripping both sides tightly. But you weren’t alone. Sweet Pea was standing next to you, rubbing your back.

“This is mortifying,” You sobbed, tears streaming down your face. Instead of bounding in to take over, her first instinct, Cheryl stayed where she was, peering around the corner. “You do not have to stay for this. I should - I should - ”

You gagged and leaned over the trash can but didn’t vomit. Sweet Pea brushed a few tears from your eyes as you leaned back. “This is nothing. Fangs’ seventeen birthday? That was gross. Trust me. Like the exorcist.”

You laughed and then groaned again, placing one hand over your stomach. “I should have let you take me to the nurse in fifth period. You were right. I’ve been feeling sick all day. I didn’t even tell Cheryl, I just got snippy about her stupid salad. Ugh. That salad.”

You leaned over the trash can again and this time, everyone came up. Cheryl shuttered but watched as Sweet Pea stood by, brushing your hair out of your face and rubbing your back. It was sweet…in a disgusting sort of way. When you leaned back, he brushed the sweat from your forehead. He didn’t even flinch when you whipped the back of your mouth and spit. Instead, he pulled a water bottle out of his backpack and offered it to you. It was used, Cheryl noted, being half empty but it was a dire circumstance. You rinsed out your mouth and leaned again him, giving him your weight. “I think you have a fever. You feel any better?”

“I feel disgusting and queasy and embarrassed and I never want to show my face to the River Vixens of you ever again,” you confessed. Sweet Pea shook his head.

“Nah. That’s okay. You don’t need to do that. I’d miss your face.” Despite being disgusting and ill, you smiled at him. Cheryl felt her heart swell. It was so awkwardly cute. “I uh - I guess I’m trying to say that I don’t really care about my grades but I’ve been studying with you a lot. Like, I’ve been passing math for weeks and I’m still asking for your help. You know?”

“So you weren’t just in it for your love of learning,” you teased. Then your smile faltered and you brought your hand to your stomach. “I don’t know how I’m going to walk home. Ugh. I’m gonna lose it on the Cooper’s lawn.”

“I’ll drive you. Your mom gonna be home?” You shook your head. Your mother was rarely ever home. Often staying at the studio until 10 PM or later. It allowed you a lot of sleepovers but Cheryl knew you were often lonely, especially when you were sick. And Cheryl had been spending most of her time with Toni lately. “We’ll stop at the drugstore and I’ll grab a few things. I got you, okay?”

Sweet Pea wrapped his arm around your shoulder and guided you away from the foul-smell bin. Cheryl returned to her squad and grabbed her phone from her bag off the bench - she was the only one allowed to have her phone on them at rehearsal. Toni was leading the girls into a much smoother looking routine. “Ladies! I knew you had it in you. You are the Vixens I knew you could be. Take 5 - Nay, take 10. Then we’ll run it from the top and I’ll let you watch my solo.”

Cheryl joined Toni and wrapped her arms around her and kissed the top of her head. Toni hugged her tightly. When she pulled back, she asked “How’s our girl? You two make up?”

“Let’s just say, you’re much more intuitive and smart than the world gives you credit for. Mi amour, you deserve all the credit in the world.”

Cheryl kissed Toni firmly before pulling out her phone and texting you three words.

Seal. Of. Approval.

#riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale sweet pea #sick!reader #cheryl blossom #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x oc #sweet pea #fanfiction #riverdale fandom #fanfic #reader insert #x reader

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kassandras-one-braincell · 8 months

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nonono but cowboy!kassandra anon is such a genius they got me thinking about a slowburn between cowboy!kass and milkmaid!reader...

🧵

It starts with Kassandra being unapologetically vocal about liking what she sees. She offers to carry those heavy pails for you after a day under the beating sun - pails she'd be able to carry in one hand without breaking a sweat, if there wasn't a risk of the milk spilling over - and you thank her with a glass of sweet tea that evening.

Some weeks later, one of your cows does a runner. You're anxious about the poor thing's safety, but also, you're worried about the impact it will have on your trade. You can't afford another cow. Shakily, you confide in her, and despite her trip to your cattle ranch being arduous in the heat, she disregards her tiredness in the name of roping the runaway back in. The worry fading from your face and the kiss on the cheek you give her in thanks makes it all worth it.

Kassandra has never been one for the simple life, but over time, you help her discover an appreciation for it. She spends the night, sometimes. Helps you around the ranch, does some heavy lifting. Gives some disgruntled dairy traders a reason to think twice before opening their mouths. Alone, she'd be bored shitless, but you sweeten the deal.

You're grateful for the helping hands, and, well, they are lovely hands. It's hard to ignore the excited hammering of your heart against your chest in the leadup to her regular visits, or how it heightens tenfold when she asks to stay the night, sometimes several nights in a row. Or how both of your eyes linger for a few more seconds than appropriate on one another's bodies.

All you need is a catalyst: you ask for Kassandra to teach you how to tie a lasso, just in case one of your cows takes a second shot at freedom. She laughs that light, yet rich laugh of hers. "I'll be here to handle that, honey," she chuckles, but catches herself. "If I'm welcome to stay, that is." In her head, she has found a home at last. A home in your company, one that would move wherever the wind took you. But you allowing her to settle down beside you...that's quite the bold presumption.

You kiss her for it.

#im gayyyyyy im gay im gay #you planted the seed and i have tried my best to sew it #tailor anon 🧵 sewing up something magical #kassandra x reader #kassandra of sparta #kassandra #cowboy au

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historia-vitae-magistras · 8 months

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Super random question: from one of your fics, what was that species of melon that Matt was trying to grow when he was staying with Arthur in England? What is its significance to Matt?

Trigger warning for pretty bad emotional neglect of a child, non graphic illness and some shockingly nice headcanons.

And ah, the Montreal melon. It's a type of muskmelon or honey dew or honey rock from Canada around the Montreal reason and it's a bit peppery! Like a sweet slightly tart nutmeg flavour. It's one of those few things that Matt just... really associates with one of the somewhat rare fucks given about him lol.

It's supposedly from the 19th century but there are images of it or something very similar going back quite a bit earlier. That headcanon post thing was in early spring in the late 18th or very very early 19th century. Matt's under Arthur's roof because the economy sucks ass after the American revolution so it's not worth the money to really do anything with him. Arthur's vaguely hoping Francis will buy him back lol. So no one much pays him much mind, he's more or less left to his own devices so he tries to keep himself entertained and productive and out from underfoot. Wars with France are going full tilt again so no one wants to socialize with the French welp.

He does his work, doesn't complain, cries outside if he's sad or homesick or lonely so he doesn't get on anyone's nerves. He eventually rescues the cat from the dairy yard that Arthur lets him keep but it's in one of these episodes of loneliness one of the gardeners asks him if there's anything he'd like to put in the garden that year and Matt asks for the nutmeg melon. The gardener doesn't want to risk square footage on something he hasn't tested so he says if Matt can grow it somewhere and prove it'll do all right, he'll put it in the garden. So for a year or two, at the very end of winter he's always out in the mud beyond the back garden where he won't get yelled at trying and failing to start up his melons. They keep dying and he's sad lol. They need a green house but he's not really allowed in there with his stupid little experiment.

But they're dead, he flops over ill with the economy in the gutter and gives up. In a whim while on a walk, Arthur follows the cat outside one day into the parkland beyond the gardens, finds Matt's little failed attempt and, pulls up some not entirely mud rotted melon vines and hands it over to the greenhouse. He vaguely recognizes it as one of Matthew's silly attempts to grow something in the windowsill and well he's been even mopier than usual so maybe if it lives he'll stop being so bloody depressing. Matt's kind of stopped doing anything except his work, sluggishly dragging himself to get the eggs and feed the chickens and other poultry.

He kind of just falls over in a feverish heap one day, one of the staff puts him to bed and they're kind of at a loss "who's even in charge of this one?" The uncle who's expressed half a fuck is overseas, Admiral Kirkland hasn't so much as mentioned the boy. He's just kind of there? But someone finds Rhys down in the valleys with the sheep so he marches back up to the house, doesn't even take his wellies off, and tells Arthur off because he is in charge of the lad and it's not as if Francis is going to take him back in the middle of another war for Christ's sake.

So Arthur tells the household to go feed the lad something decent and checks in on him. He's not too poorly off just sad, weak and a bit miserable but Arthur sits down to chat a bit, make sure he's not about to have to clean up a death and Matt just kind of leans over and kind of wants to be held. Arthur's not really... there yet with him so he just awkwardly, if gently scolds him to get back under the covers, he's getting too old for this kind of nonsense anyway. Matt apologizes, rolls back over and curls back up. Arthur gives him an awkward pat and grimaces about the show of what for Arthur at the turn of the 19th century is practically hysteria. Good lord, that was awkward and undignified. Matt just kind of unravels. Nothing matters, much less him. Not a serotonin in this kids body. He misses Alfred like mad, he hasn't had a letter from his uncle in a year. He feels like shit so he just kind of starts shutting down. Fever spikes, he doesn't start hallucinating but he's confused and crying a lot and no one really wants to do much about it so again someone tells Arthur about it and he kind of sighs "very well, easier than paying off witnesses to a resurrection." Hauls him over to the actual family side of the house, and tries to get his temperature down and indulges the incessant need for human contact the boy wants. And lord, it's annoying how much Arthur enjoys parenting but much resistance he puts against having another child but even his anglo ass is kind of touched by how much Matt enjoys his father's company. He's yours you dumb ass!!!! Love him a little and he'll do whatever you want for centuries!!! Long before antibiotics or even real painkillers all Arthur can really do is ply him with Willow bark tea and keep him company and that makes most of the difference. Like oh, surprise, some basic affection gives him the will to live. Who'd've fucking thought? When he's feeling a bit better, Arthur starts stashing him in the library near his desk piled up with blankets by the fire and Matt is more interesting than he's ever been. He sleeps and reads mostly but occasionally asks questions and perks up. Takes a bit, pre modern medicine but he hops too it just in time for spring and oh, well look at those melons coming from hot houses now. They'll have to plant a few rows! Cue getting barrelled into and squeezed and having one whole feeling about making Matthew happy.

So voila, melons are love.

#the ask box || probis pateo #arthur and the children || bilge rat and his bouncing baby bilge rats #Arthur and the children || bilge rat and his bouncing baby bilge rats #arthur || stone set in the silver sea #matthew || my country is winter

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