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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

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Sugar and Spice and Everything's Not So Nice

Author: @mandelion82

Prompt: Peeta and toastbabies baking! Mishaps happen! Cinnamon instead of sugar! Spice instead of yeast! Just general chaos. But oh sometimes mistakes aren’t bad cause how can it be bad if it made Mama Katniss smile, and her smile is the sweetest thing the babies and Peeta can get [submitted by @my-dearest-dear]

Rating: G

Author’s Note: Canon, approximately epilogue/post-epilogue. Note, regarding canon and the prompt, I took some creative license with a few things, such as the festivals and the foods/ingredients. Thanks to @eiramrelyat for brainstorming names with me and giving this a look-see. And thanks to my @my-dearest-dear for the prompt! I hope you enjoy!

——-

Katniss has returned home from hunting, and although her haul is relatively meager, she’s pleased with it. She’s gotten in the habit of hunting on Saturdays, and while it’s nice to get out into the woods alone, she’s always glad to be back. Peeta is always excited to see her, too, as if he half-expects her to never return. After all they’ve been through, she can’t say she blames him.

Eager to see her husband and children, Katniss slips inside their home. She’s quiet, but Peeta has said that if he’s listening carefully he can hear her boots at the door, and she knows he listens for it. Peeta’s welcomes are so warm and genuine, and the way his face lights up the moment she walks through the door reminds Katniss of her mother and father. She’s sure she looks at him the same way because no matter how much time passes, she still hates being apart from him for even a little while. She’s glad Peeta seems to feel the same; managing to keep that spark alive after nearly twenty years and two children is quite a feat, even for a pair of victors.

Today, he’s not there to greet her at the door, so she assumes he’s either off playing a game with the children or perhaps baking. When Peeta is baking, he goes into another world entirely, and it’s nearly impossible to break his concentration. This has afforded Katniss the opportunity of sneaking up on him on more than one occasion. It’s fun‒reminding her of that time with Finnick in the Quell, which she thinks on both fondly and sadly‒but sometimes she’d much prefer watching Peeta out of sight.

She does that, a lot.

Katniss loves watching her husband bake; it’s one of her favorite things to do. The care and precision he takes, the look of concentration on his face, and of course, those big, strong hands, she could watch him work for hours…

And she does.

Whether she’s seated at the counter, her presence known to him, or lingering in the doorway just out of sight, it’s a pleasant experience, one she never grows tired of.

The heavy door creaks slightly as Katniss shuts it behind her. She tugs off her boots and leaves them by the door then heads for the kitchen to freeze her latest kill. As she turns the corner, she catches sight of a blond head and familiar backside. There’s her husband, dressed in a white t-shirt, pants, and apron, methodically preparing ingredients for baking something. Their four-and-a-half-year-old daughter Olive is perched on the edge of the kitchen island, her bare feet dangling. And nearby sits their two-year-old son Dillon in his booster chair, craning his neck to see what’s going on.

Consequently, they named their oldest child Olivia‒Olive for short‒because she was about the size of an olive in the womb. Peeta referred to her as such, and the name kind of stuck. And as for Dillon, he was named after an herb, which reminded Katniss of Peeta.

Katniss should’ve expected to find her family in the kitchen, for the holiday season is upon them, and Peeta has turned the Mellark household into a baker’s paradise. Not that Peeta doesn’t bake almost daily, but around the holidays, it’s a whole other story. The place is constantly awash with sweet and savory scents, and not to mention, he’s been teaching Olive a little. She’s old enough now to know more about what she’s doing, and he says it’s good to start early, in practice for the upcoming big festivals. There’ll be a large feast to end autumn, and then begins the wintry gift-giving season.

Neither festival was a big deal for the Mellark or, especially, the Everdeen families while Peeta and Katniss were growing up. Katniss’s family barely had enough food to sustain themselves, and although Peeta’s lived in the merchant circle, most of their revenue and goods went to the Capitol, and his mother was very strict with what was left over.

But things are different now. And Peeta is taking full advantage of it for the sake of making their children happy.

Seeing Peeta bake with the children is like icing on the cake or an extra layer of cheese on the buns. Admittedly, it warms Katniss’s heart and turns her on in equal measure. It’s slightly strange to think of it as such, but seeing what a wonderful father Peeta is, in addition to the man she already knows he is, makes her need for him even greater.

Katniss almost wants to join in, but they’re having such a nice daddy-daughter-son moment that she doesn’t want to intrude. She’s content to watch them, anyway. She gets more pleasure out of observing Peeta with their children than most would being part of the fun. And he’s so good with them, a natural-born father.

Katniss leans against the wall and peeks inside to see what’s going on now.

—-

Peeta is readying to bake cookies with Olive and Dillon, ginger molasses sugar cookies, to be precise. They recently popped into his head, and he thought Katniss and the kids might enjoy them. Well, Katniss and Olive, at least. Dillon might have to resort to tiny pieces or licking the cinnamon and sugar off.

Once he’s gotten everything out, he begins instructing Olive. “Okay, sweetheart, are you ready?” She nods emphatically. “Okay, first, we need to add the butter. Want to dump it in?”

“Mmhm!”

He hands her the stick, and she clenches it in her small hand. “Squishy…,” she mutters in astonishment.

“No, honey. Don’t squish it,” Peeta calmly tells her. “Take off the paper.” He helps her a little with the flap. “Get it all off. Good. Now, drop it in.” Olive makes it in the bowl, just barely, then proceeds to clap her hands at her own accomplishment. Peeta smiles.

“Here’s another one,” says Peeta. Olive gets the second stick in the bowl easier, and it lands with a resounding splat.

“Good. And now we need to add brown sugar, sugar, and molasses.” Peeta goes through his mental checklist.

“Daddy, how come you don’t use a res’pee?” asks Olive in that cute lisp of hers.

Assuming she means recipe, Peeta grins. “Because, sweetie, it’s all up here.” He taps his noggin. Of course, his mind is still not what it once was, or even what he wishes it to be. Some things are lodged in, rooted deep, but others, even small things, seem to have gotten lost in the labyrinth. Peeta’s relieved that he seems to have retained the most important things.

“Next, we cream it, which means we need to mix it together until it’s soft and fluffy.”

“I can make it soft, Daddy!” exclaims Olive. He stops her when her little hands are halfway in the bowl.

“Ah ah, not that way, sweetheart. Not with our hands.”

“Oh.”

She grabs a nearby spatula and begins hacking away at the sticks of butter. Peeta lets out a brittle laugh. “Here, honey. Use this.” He exchanges the spatula for a wooden spoon and shows her how to press down. She tries to do as he does, but she’s not quite strong enough, so Peeta takes the bowl away.

At first, Olive looks like she’s about to cry; then she gets indignant. Placing her hands on her hips and glaring up at him, she says vehemently, “Daddy, I want to help!”

“Of course, sweetheart. Daddy’s just getting you started.” He pecks her on the nose and tells her she’s doing a great job. Seemingly satisfied with this, Olive folds her arms and waits her turn like a good little girl.

—-

From her vantage point, Katniss watches the cords in Peeta’s forearms twitch, his biceps bulging slightly beneath his white t-shirt as he quickly whips the butter into oblivion. They have an electric mixer, but Peeta doesn’t need it; he’s that strong.

—-

When the mixture is significantly softened, Peeta places the bowl before Olive. “Now we’ll add the other ingredients, and then we’ll have to stir again. But it should be much easier with the butter softened.”

Peeta announces what he’s doing and puts in the brown sugar, a cup of it, and molasses, 6 teaspoons. When he’s finished and turns slightly to screw on the lid to the molasses, he catches a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of Olive dragging a finger along the interior side of the bowl where some of the mixture has splattered. She sneaks a taste and makes a face. Grinning to himself, Peeta says nothing.

“Would you like to put the sugar in?“

“The white sugar?”

“Yes.” Peeta chuckles. “The white sugar.”

Olive reaches for the container of salt.

“Oh, no, that’s salt, sweetheart.”

“What’s the difference, Daddy?” She stares up at him with large, blue eyes. “Looks the same. It’s white.”

Peeta chuckles. “It may look the same, but it tastes very different. I’ll show you. Stick out your tongue.” He dabs a little on his finger and touches it to her tongue. She tastes it and cringes a little. As expected. Olive isn’t a salt-lover. It’s adorable, though, and Peeta simultaneously feels like laughing and giving her kisses. “Does it taste sweet like a cookie to you?”

She shakes her head. “No…hey, Daddy, you used your hands!”

Figures his daughter would catch that and point it out to him. “It’s okay this time. They were clean, and I’m not dipping it back in.”

He goes for the sugar, then, and using another finger, he does the same. “Does that taste sweeter?”

She nods, licking the sugar off her lips. “Can I have more?” He’s surprised she doesn’t grab his finger and start sucking on it, just to make sure she got every last crystal off his finger‒she’s a sweets-lover like her mother, after all.

“No,” Peeta laughs, “not right now, honey. First, we need to finish Mama’s cookies.”

“Can I lick the batter?”

“Uhh…” Peeta hates when the kids want to do that, although Katniss lets them get away with it. She’s eaten much rawer things in her day, and if he’s honest, he has, too (in the Games), but it’s not something he wants to make a habit of. Puts his stomach off. He doesn’t mean for his kitchen, or his daughter’s mouth, to be a salmonella laboratory. “We’ll see, baby.”

“Okay, so, we need a half cup of sugar,” Peeta continues. “Half of this thing.” He loops his finger through the handle of the measuring cup, jiggling it. Then he fills it halfway for her. She dumps it in and stares into the bowl in fascination as the sugar melds with the brownish golden mixture.

Her blue eyes shoot up to his. “What’s next, Daddy?”

“The salt,” he says. “Remember which one it is?”

“Uh huh!” She bobs her head up and down.

“Good.”

Just then, Dill squeals from behind Peeta, and he turns his back on Olive in order to give him a little attention.

—-

From behind them, Katniss watches as Olive faintly scowls. When Dill was born, she was the proudest big sister there was (at least since Katniss), but she soon became acquainted with jealousy. Oh, it wasn’t all the time, but Katniss and Peeta found that she got louder, more vocal, and sillier when Dill was getting all the attention.

As for Katniss, she never really felt sibling jealousy, not exactly. She did feel some envy over how wonderful she was. It still stung to think of her, maybe not like a fresh wound, but like a deep, enduring scar.

Katniss turns her attention back to Olive. Displeased with being ignored by her dad, their little girl has taken matters into her own hands.

—-

“I did it, Daddy!” Olive announces.

“Did what, honey?” Peeta turns back to Olive and the bowl. “You put the salt in?”

She nods, smiling proudly.

Oh, he wishes she would’ve waited; although, he did have it already measured out into the teaspoon. He examines the counter. The teaspoon filled with salt is still there, but the salt canister’s spout is open. He’s sure he closed it. He’s surprised Olive was able to get it open. The sight of spilled granules on the counter around the canister confirms that she did, in fact, use salt.

But…

Peeta looks inside the mixing bowl, and it definitely appears to be more than just a teaspoon mingling with the other ingredients. He has a bad feeling about this. Just to be sure, he takes a taste of the mixture. He coughs.

“Olive, honey,” Peeta sputters, “how much did you put in?”

“One of those scoopie thingies.”

“A cup.” Peeta drags a hand down his face. “She used a whole cup…,” he mutters through his hand.

“Daddy, what’s wrong? Are you sick?” Olive askes, concerned.

Peeta removes his hand and gives her the sweetest smile he can muster. “No, baby. I’m fine.” He picks up the teaspoon and holds it out to her. “Baby, we only needed this much salt. This is a teaspoon.”

“So…I…I-I put in too-too much?” she blubbers. “Did I ruin Mama’s cookies?!”

Well, yes, but he’s not going to tell her that.

At her father’s silence, Olive’s eyes begin to water, and her lip trembles.

No, not the lip quiver, laments Peeta. The lip quiver combined with the watery eyes is his undoing!

“Oh, no. No, baby. Don’t cry…” Peeta sighs.

—-

Poor Peeta, thinks Katniss from behind the wall. She should step in and help, but something holds her back. Maybe it’s that she doesn’t want to encroach upon what Peeta and the children are trying to do for her. And also, she trusts Peeta to handle the situation.

—-

Damn, thinks Peeta. He’s usually much better at supervising while baking. However, he doesn’t usually do it with both of them; usually, Katniss has Dill while he bakes with Olive. Two active children are a lot to handle in the kitchen. And previous recipes have been simpler or more engaging for her.

Olive is sniffling now. Peeta thinks fast, scooping her up and swinging her around. He smothers her face in kisses until she’s giggling and kicking her legs wildly. Finally, he stops kissing her, and she stops kicking. She wraps her legs around his waist and winds her arms around his neck.

“It’s fine,” Peeta says, tapping her pert little nose. “It’s gonna be great. We’ll just call that a practice round and start fresh; no harm done.”

—-

From her position, Katniss smiles. Knew he could do it.

But after the Batch 1 debacle, things only get worse…

Peeta’s trying to entertain an increasingly fidgety and fussy Dillon. Meanwhile, Olive is demanding of her daddy’s attention. She grows impatient and tugs on Peeta’s shirt tail, which has come loose in all the hubbub, as he passes by. Katniss tries not to think of the implications of that. Peeta nearly loses his grip on the mixing bowl in his arms, but he holds fast to it.

Is it time to step in? Katniss wonders.

No, Peeta’s got it.

Katniss does, however, nearly make her presence known when she sees Dillon stretching his cute, chubby paw out toward the flour. She has Peeta’s name on her lips just as he grasps their son’s little hand in the nick of time.

“No, son,” Peeta chides, chuckling. And Katniss breathes a sigh of relief. “Well, that could have been a disaster,” she hears Peeta tell Olive as he moves the flour sack back slightly.

“Naughty, naughty, Dill-Dill,” Olive chastises, shaking her head and waving a finger at her little brother.

—-

Cardamom is up next, thinks Peeta.

Cardamom. This gives him the idea of making a chai tea latte for Katniss later. He’s never made one for her, but she’ll probably like it, given her penchant for sweet drinks like hot chocolate. How something they drank in the Capitol became such a staple for them is beyond him, but it’s hard depriving themselves of something so good. And when something is good, it’s good, and you don’t always bother with where it came from.

Peeta imagines Katniss will also like a different type of sweet. Not to mention, she gets extra affectionate when he’s indulged that sweet tooth of hers…

—-

Katniss notices then that Dill has achieved his objective, and when Peeta averted his eyes (how do they always know the second a parent looks away?), their toddler managed to grab hold of the edge of the flour sack. Dill’s tipped the sack over, its contents spilling out onto the counter, the floor, and onto him. He’s also had time, in the seconds Peeta’s been looking away, to smear the flour all over the counter, his shirt and pants, and his face.

Oh, Peeta, thinks Katniss. Never leave anything within reach of a two-year-old, even if you think there’s only a remote possibility he can reach it. Always err on the side of caution and keep it plenty far away.

—-

Peeta sees what Dill has done. “Oh!” He quickly rights the not-yet empty sack of flour, which is still trickling out. With a huff, he looks between the mess and Dillon. “Dill,” he groans.

Good one, Peeta, he internally berates himself. That’s what you get for going off in your head and leaving children around baking ingredients! And it doesn’t help that he’s been daydreaming of Katniss so much today. One would think he was still a teenager rather than in his thirties!

Snapping to it, Peeta whisks Dill away under one arm. He moves him over to his highchair, far away from the island, and straps him in. Dill’s almost too big for the chair, but Peeta needs him temporarily restrained. His son stares up unhappily then starts to whine.

Peeta looks to Olive. “Can you watch your brother while I clean up this mess?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Please sit there,” says Peeta, pointing to the chair nearest Dill. “Keep your eyes on him, okay? Daddy needs to clean this up, so Mommy doesn’t come home to a messy kitchen.”

Olive bobs her head, climbs into the chair, and fixes Dill with a hard stare. “I’m watching you, Dill-Dill,” she says in an authoritative manner. “Be a good boy.”

Dill mumbles, “Good boy” and some other jumbled words, which Peeta doesn’t have time to decipher.

“No, not good. You were a bad boy,” he hears Olive argue.

“No, no, noo,” whines Dill, smacking his hands against the tray and shaking his head rampantly, making his blond curls bounce. “No bad. Dill, good!”

Seeing this, Peeta shoots a pleading glance at Olive, for he doesn’t want Dill going into a full-blown tantrum.

Olive takes the hint, fortunately. “Yes, Dill good,” she says, patting his head. Peeta breathes a sigh of relief when Dill seems calmed by his sister’s words and her hand on his head, which is now running through his curls.

—-

Katniss silently snickers. Peeta has to be close to losing it. He loves their babies so much, yet the kitchen is sacred ground for him. To him, it must be as if they’re desecrating a temple.

She really should help. But no, Peeta is perfectly capable of handling their two rugrats. Also, the wicked side of her kind of wants to see how this turns out…

—-

To his relief, Katniss has left the diaper bag on the back counter, and Peeta goes for it, returning with some wet wipes. He brushes the flour off Dill’s shirt and pants‒he’ll clean that up after‒and dabs his clothes with a wet wipe. But the toddler doesn’t like this particular kind of attention and lets his father know through a series of choking sobs while Peeta and Olive try to soothe him.

“Almost done, son,” Peeta promises. He brushes flour out of Dill’s curls and kisses his forehead. Softly sighing, Peeta wipes off Dill’s face as his son blinks up at him with large, gray eyes. “You’re definitely going to need a bath and a change of clothes later, but this will have to do for now.”

Peeta wipes off Dill’s tiny hands.

“All clean now, son.” Peeta leans in. “Let’s keep it that way.” He’s trying to be stern but clearly losing the battle. It’s all over when Dill grabs Peeta’s face with his chubby hands and smooches his chin. Peeta’s expression softens to the consistency of mush. No matter what their babies do, they have Daddy wrapped around their little fingers.

Once he’s done cleaning Dill, Peeta goes for the broom. He’ll need to sweep up the flour and probably mop, flour having that clingy consistency it does, not to mention the ability to get into every tiny crevice and remain there until the end of time. Sure, flour has been spilled down at the bakery before; his family even had a saying, which he uses with his new employees (none of whom are toddlers)‒Don’t cry over spilled flour.

So, why does he feel like crying now?

“Daddy,” the sound of Olive’s voice rings out over his thoughts.

“Yes, baby?”

“I was wondering…can you sing? Like Mommy?”

“Not well, sweetheart.” He chuckles. “And definitely not like Mommy. No one sings like Mommy,” he says proudly.

—-

From behind the wall, Katniss smiles, her heart thumping a teeny bit faster. Her Peeta, how does he still do this to her? Always so sweet, he still manages to catch her off guard with the things he says.

She continues to observe.

Several minutes later, Peeta’s finished sweeping and mopping the small area. He secures Dill and washes his hands; then he and Olive are back at the mixture. Olive’s singing at the top of her lungs now, a traditional holiday folk song from their district. She does have quite a nice voice, despite her pitch being up and down. She’s a jubilant singer, though, and Katniss has been singing to her all her life.

Peeta, on the other hand, doesn’t sing often. But when Olive begs him to join in, he does.

The two start singing the chorus of the song, and Katniss has to cover her mouth to keep from snorting at Peeta’s efforts to keep pace with Olive, who’s running with a high note, slightly out of key, yet still pretty.

They return to the baking, all seemingly going according to plan until Olive knocks about ⅓ of the bottle of cinnamon into the mixing bowl. Peeta notices, but he doesn’t correct her. He doesn’t want to risk hurting her feelings, Katniss assumes, but is he really going to bake that batch and let them eat it?

He pre-heats the stove and starts scooping balls of dough onto the cookie sheet, all the while trying to prevent Olive from eating it. He gives in when she pouts and offers her a tiny taste of it, but that only seems to make her more voracious. She doesn’t seem to mind the added cinnamon. He distracts her by letting her handle the cookie scoop. She struggles with it, shaking it rather vigorously to get the dough out until Peeta shows her how a simple click releases the dough.

She’s a master at it after that. However, the dough balls aren’t exactly distributed evenly on the cookie sheet, and some are even stuck together. Surely, Peeta will handle it by the time he gets them to the oven.

Then again, maybe he’ll accidentally dump the whole batch in the garbage along the way? One can only hope.

—-

When all is scooped out, Peeta carries the tray of dough balls over to the oven. He’s not sure what to do; he can’t in good conscience stick these abominations in the oven, knowing how they’re bound to turn out. It’s like a baking sin, right up there with burning that bread many years ago. Although, look how that turned out for him in the end…

Worried as he is that the oven might explode or spew the ruined dough balls from its bowels in protest, Peeta can’t resist Olive’s baby blues or that small, tilted smile that’s so much like her mother’s.

Oh well. What will it hurt to make a bad batch? Maybe he can switch them out and throw the bad ones to Haymitch’s geese.

Peeta dons oven mitts and slides the tray in.

Olive doesn’t give him any problems with trying to touch the stove; he warned her long ago about that. Rather than making up a story to scare her, he simply told her the truth‒that it was very hot and would hurt badly if she touched it and if severe enough, it could leave permanent marks on her skin.

“Like the ones on you and Mommy’s skin?” Olive had innocently asked.

“Exactly,” he’d said. Although not exactly, it was a good lesson. It was enough to ward Olive off from the stove.

—

Katniss allows them to finish, and as Peeta’s pulling out the tray, she enters.

“Oh hey,” Peeta greets with a smile. “Didn’t hear you come in. Did you just get home?”

“You could say that.” She smirks at him, and the corner of his lip tilts in a way that suggests he knows she’s been there the whole time. Or, maybe he’s simply figured it out, since she can’t hide anything from him to save her life.

“Welcome back,” he says, pressing a kiss to her lips. She smiles.

“Mama, we made cookies!” exclaims Olive, hugging Katniss tightly around the legs.

“I see that,” says Katniss.

“Yeah, Olive here is quite the little baker. I might have to start training her down at the bakery.”

Olive beams.

“Daddy, Daddy, can we give one to Mama now? Are they cool yet?!”

“Let’s wait a few more minutes,” suggests Peeta. And Katniss takes their daughter aside to show her what she got in the woods.

Several minutes later, Peeta is handing a cookie to their daughter and motioning for her to offer it to Katniss.

“Mama, take a bite!” Olive extends the perfectly golden-browned cookie.

Katniss has a brief moment of panic, recalling what she’d witnessed. But her daughter and husband made these cookies for her with love, so how can she deny them? Peeta’s certainly going to hear about this later, though…

She observes the offered cookie a moment.

It looks good…

How bad can it be? Well…

Katniss takes the cookie, raising it to her mouth and preparing herself for what is sure to be the worst thing she’s ever tasted (and she’s tasted a lot of bad things). She takes a bite of the cookie.

As soon as she bites into it, a rush of sweetness and spice in the perfect combination hits her taste buds, and they’re singing. Rather than the worst, it’s one of the best things she’s ever tasted, rivaling hot chocolate and Peeta’s cheese buns, although with an entirely different flavor.

Huh.

Does love really make a thing look and taste better? Maybe it’s true what they say about children being infallible to their parents.

Or maybe, more likely…

She eyes Peeta suspiciously, confronting him only after the children have gone off to play.

Peeta faces Katniss, gripping the counter behind him, a sly grin painting his lips.

Her own lips upturn slightly. “The cookie…you switched it, didn’t you?”

He nods.

“I’m grateful, Peeta, but how could you betray your daughter like that?”

“Well, I love her, but I also love you. We protect each other, right?" They exchange a smile. "How could I let the pregnant mother of my children and child-to-be put something our daughter made into her mouth?” He runs a gentle hand across her slightly protruding belly and bends down to place a kiss on it.

Katniss gives a short laugh. “Well, you were supposed to be supervising them, Peeta. I thought a master such as yourself could handle a couple of amateur bakers.”

“I may be a master, but I was up against far more than amateur bakers. Honestly, the two of them can be impossible sometimes. Just like their mother.”

Katniss gives him a wry smirk.

Peeta places his hands on her shoulders and squeezes gently. “And you? How could you stand by and watch the chaos without a word?” He’s not angry, only teasing her.

“You knew the whole time?” She’s surprised, actually.

“No, but I figured it out when you came in.”

Katniss sighs. This man she’s married to…

Peeta winks at her, and Katniss scowls, though she can’t hold it.

“I’m surprised you were able to pull off the switch without my noticing. You’ve gotten much stealthier.”

Peeta shrugs. “Well, when you live with a great huntress for years, you’re bound to pick up a trick or two.”

They kiss, and Peeta entwines their hands. And they set out to check on their children, together.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #mandelion82 #submission #prompt

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sinceatwistoffaith · 5 years

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Ryan Guzman, Daniel sharman, and Elizabeth lail

Ryan Guzman - Ryan Guzman…. he’s so handsome. Ever since watching Step Up Revolution all those years ago I’ve had a little bit of a crush on him. Plus– he’s body? He’s gorgeous all around. Admittedly, I don’t know too much about Leo since I’ve had like… 2 or 3 threads with him (Go lego pitch forks!) but from what I can tell so far he seems really chill and really cool. I reckon he’ll be a good friend for Dillon who can try make him chill a little and stop being such a stubborn ass.

Daniel Sharman - Two experiences with Daniel Sharman. They’ve both been played as the whole bad boy trope for both of those experiences. The first one, Theo, was in a ship with my super super sweet Lucy Hale fc. It was basically the epitome of opposites attract; she was super sweet, innocent and pure and he was a total asshole who slept around and fucked everything up. Basically, he was best friend’s with my girl’s brother, fell for his little sister and shit happened from there including a fist fight where her brother ended up pumping Theo in the face cause he’d kissed Dianna. They couldn’t stand to be around each other at first and completely rubbed each other the wrong way but in the end they brought out the better of each other, Dianna helping Theo to be less of a douchebag and Theo helping Dianna come out of her comfort zone.The second experience; obviously your Thomas. He’s annoying but I also love him a lot. Of course, our frenemies with benefits butt heads with each other all the time but they’ve actually got a solid friendship going there and that’s hella fun. It’s funny cause it started off as a little connection of them being neighbors and then all of a sudden frenemies to frenemies who’ve slept together once to frenemies who still occasionally fool around. Basically, the chemistry between Thomas and Liz was evident in and only continued to grow from the very first moment and I’m looking forward to getting to know him more and seeing where this leads off to.

Elizabeth Lail - Nat’s the first time I’ve seen Elizabeth on my dash and honestly, I haven’t payed much attention to the rest of the rpc so I don’t know if she’s just blown up since You but she’s so so so gorgeous. Aside from our threads and Nat’s odd wild moments I haven’t really paid too much attention to the rest of her threads but I’m already super super hyped to see what happens with her and our characters because so far I’ve been enjoying what I’ve seen to far. Plus, it could be pretty interesting to see what happens with the whole Flynn & Vera situation with her being Flynn’s best female friend.

#answered #claurps

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adc-writes · 7 years

Note

“How am I supposed to trust you anymore?”

ALEXANDER DILLON || “How am I supposed to trust you anymore?”

He let the words settle for a few minutes as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to say to that. To her. In the back of his mind he knew the decisions he had made weren’t the best he could have made but the truth was he was limited in his options and, in his mind, it was the only way.

Aubrey was…amazing. She was. She was witty and intelligent and beautiful in the classical type of way, big eyes and larger hair. There wasn’t much that she could do to make him think otherwise but that didn’t mean the rest of the world–the rest of his world–would be as open to her.

She ran an explicit web show which, while he wasn’t the biggest advocate of it, made her a lot of money. She had a blog that spoke of sexual encounters with other people–and sometimes gave advice, admittedly. She drank too much, thought drugs were something fun, and would always choose a nightclub over a quiet night in bed. She could be vulgar and crass, had no sense of restraint, and Alex just knew she wasn’t the kind of girl he was supposed to introduce to his parents.

He liked her, he really did, because beneath all of the flaws was an amazingly talented women with a dry wit and an incredible sense of humor. But that meant absolutely nothing if his parents didn’t approve.

And they wouldn’t.

Natalie on the other hand was a hit. She always had been. When they were dating his mother had beamed at how polite she was and how delightful. Natalie knew how to work a room, how to charm men and women alike, how to always say the right thing and which hand to hold her glass in. Natalie knew when to speak and when to stand back, when to hold onto his arm and when to accept a dance from an influential client.

He could trust Natalie to not let him down.

Aubrey was just…too wild. Too free. She had a wicked independent streak and a big mouth, things that he couldn’t get enough of but things he knew would ultimately embarrass him if given the chance.

Was that fair? Probably not. But these were investors with too much money and he wasn’t willing to risk her saying something…ridiculous.

“You can trust me,” he finally replied and tugged at the sleeves of his shirt just for something to do, to give him somewhere to look. “You can trust I was doing this for us. Aubrey my parents have never met you but they’ve certainly heard you and Parker through the adjoining wall and I can’t tell you that the comments that were made were given in a positive light.”

There’s a look Aubrey gets sometimes, where she lets herself just be, and as it crosses her face he knows he’s hurt her this time.

He just needs her to understand.

“Natalie and I we…We have an arrangement. It’s nothing romantic and we stayed in separate rooms, despite my mothers insistence,” at that she made a face and he knew he probably shouldn’t have added that on. “I can trust that she won’t let me down, that’s all. I’d never dream to reign you in Aubrey, you’re your own person and I don’t want you to change yourself if you’re happy with who you are. But you have to understand that some parts of this world aren’t ready for that, for you. And that’s the world I live in. This isn’t about trust, okay? It’s business and you have to see that the choices I make are for the future, not for what my heart may or may not want. If I can accept things about you then you should accept this part of me.”

#blairwaldorfs #ship: aubrex #character: alexander

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literateape · 6 years

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When Crowdfunding Resembles Opportunism or The Greed in Your Ask is Getting Obvious

By Don Hall

I most recently joined the World of Crowdfunding with my new Patreon Campaign. I’m torn as, in general, I’ve seen far too many of these efforts resemble either a corrupt civil servant trying to raise money for bail or legal fees, someone desperately using it as a replacement for medical insurance or Ian Belknap using GoFundMe to help pay for an office space so he doesn’t have to deal with his kids at home while churning out pedantic screeds on Faceborg.

Go ahead and Google “crowdfunding abuse” and the list is long and ugly.

When Angela Vela asked me to perform a piece about Greed for her monthly show The Seven Deadly Sins, crowdfunding abuse was my target.

Dear Roger –

I know I haven’t been in touch for a while and I apologize right off the bat for not reaching out to you when you got your new job three years ago or when you got married two years ago or when you and your wife had that baby last year. Obviously, you were in my thoughts but I never took the time to connect after college. My bad, bro.

Remember the time when we both got so drunk that we ended up streaking in the Dillons parking lot? LMAO! I barely do. Thanks for bailing us both out, right?

Anyways, I’m writing to you now because I’m kind of in a bind. I wrote some bad checks about two months ago—I totally thought I had them covered but the places cashed the checks before the date I put on them—I thought you couldn’t do that but apparently you can—and the bank is totally fucking me over. Thank god I’m living with my mom, right?

Seriously, is there any chance I could borrow, like, $450 for a while until I get this all straightened out? I’m good for it, bro.

If it is, here’s my Paypal account or you can just send it directly through Chase Pay.

Thanks.

Yo, Rog!!

Long time, no see, right? How’s the wife and kid? I hope great!

The reason I’m writing is to first, apologize for not getting you that $400 back yet. I know it’s been a couple years but things have been moving really fast around here and I’m thinking you’ll thank me once you see how I spent the money I owe you. If you think of it as an investment into something amazing, I’m sure of it.

I moved out of my mom’s house into her garage (I pay rent so it’s not like charity or anything) and decided that I was going to go into a brand new field. Yes, my degree in Contemporary Greek Philosophy is valuable to me but is not what a sustainable career is made of, right? So I looked out into the world in search of my calling, right? And it hit me right in the jaw—social media. I spend a huge amount of my time writing funny things on Facebook and Twitter, why not parlay that into a full-time career? So...

I’m in Chicago now, and I’m going to take classes at the famed Second City Training Center. You know, the place that spawned the careers of Bill Murray, Stephen Colbert, that guy from the “Sledgehammer” TV show and the voice of Homer Simpson? I figure that a degree from such an esteemed comedic institution is bound to bolster my street cred with companies looking for clever and sarcastic social media responses so I’m currently enrolled.

Here’s the thing: the $400 I owe you went to pay for some of my first eight weeks but once I get my degree and a job writing the Funny Ha-Ha, I’ll pay you back with interest. OR...

Below is a link to my new Kickstarter Campaign to raise the money to pay for all 15 levels of Second City training. I only need to raise $22,000 for this and after all those levels, I’m pretty much guaranteed a spot on SNL which would be even better than writing for Facebook. LOL! Winky emoji.

Any amount is acceptable and you know I’m good for it. A donation of $500 will get you an autographed photo and front row seats at a live taping of SNL!

Thanks!

Dear Roger –

After Second City level 7 and my continued work at Boston Market, I wanted to die every single day of my life and it took me several years to realize it was because of the environment I was in. So, I picked the next best place: San Francisco, which is close to my dad, since we’ve never gotten to have much of a relationship and I like the weather up here. I found a job (I was hired the same day as my interview, in fact) and I put a bunch of debt on a shiny new credit card to afford the move.

I got the job thinking I was all set to write those funny quips on the company’s social media (I mean, I did have seven levels at the world famous Second City, right?) but I was told I’d have to work in support for an entire year before I would be able to move to a different department. A whole year answering calls and talking to customers just for the hope that someday I’d be able to make memes and Twitter jokes. But that’s neither here nor there. Let’s get back to the situation at hand, shall we?

So here I am, 27-years-old, balancing all sorts of debt and trying to pave a life for myself that doesn’t involve crying in the bathtub every week. Every single one of my coworkers is struggling. They’re taking side jobs, they’re living at home. One of them started a GoFundMe because she couldn’t pay her rent. She ended up leaving the company and moving east, somewhere the minimum wage could double as a living wage. Another wrote on those neat whiteboards we’ve got on every floor begging for help because he was bound to be homeless in two weeks. Fortunately, someone helped him out. At least, I think they did. I actually haven’t seen him in the past few months. Do you think he’s okay? Another guy who got hired, and ultimately let go, was undoubtedly homeless. He brought a big bag with him and stocked up on all those snacks they make sure are on every floor.

I haven’t bought groceries since I started this job. Not because I’m lazy, but because I got this ten pound bag of rice before I moved here and my meals at home (including the one I’m having as I write this) consist, by and large, of that. Because I can’t afford to buy groceries.

Will you pay my phone bill for me? I just got a text from T-Mobile telling me my bill is due.

Look, I’ll make you a deal. You don’t have to pay my phone bill. I’ll just disconnect my phone. And I’ll disconnect my home internet, too, even though it’s the only way I can do work for my freelance gig that I haven’t been able to do since I moved here because I’m constantly too stressed to focus on anything but going to sleep as soon as I’m not at work.

If you could help me out, my PayPal is paypal.me/jimmyzee, my Venmo is jimmyzee (no hyphen). Square Cash is cash.me/$JimZee.

Thanks, bro.

Rogerio!!

You've been so generous in the past and I'm trying to raise money to get a plane ticket and funds for the final auditions for the 2016 season of American Idol.

I went to Disney World a few years ago and did the American Idol experience attraction at MGM. I auditioned and got on the show. They do 5 shows per day where an audience picks the winner of 3 performers. At the end of the day, they have a big show where the 5 winners compete for a Dream Ticket.

The Dream Ticket is a pass to get to the front of the American Idol Audition Line. I performed and won the small show during the day, then won the final show at the end of the day, getting me the Dream Ticket. They don't expire and you can use them at any auditions. I thought I had lost it, but in a stroke of luck (and possibly fate), I just found it in my files at home.

This could be my last chance to do it and I can't live my life wondering,"What if?" I have this amazing opportunity and hoprfully, with your help, I can live my dream and live life to the very fullest!

Thank you for the chance!!

Hey Everyone!

As many of you know, I am a HUGE fan of ULTRA Music Festival in MIAMI. This will be my 14th year attending and marks my 2nd year moderating the Facebook group. I admittedly have put in TOO MANY hours running the group, making sure it is free from spam and trolls. It has been a lot of fun but it has also stolen a ton of my time. I am hoping that some of the friendships I've made will inspire people to be generous and help me make this trip possible.

Normally March is an abundant month for me but this year I am financially "running on fumes." I have spent the last 2.5 months recovering from a broken ankle, which has kept me from working. In this time I have used up all my reserve cash and now with my trip to Florida right around the corner my credit card bills are looming. I will use this money to pay for the flight, ticket, lodging and food for during the trip. It would be the best birthday present if I got a great response.

I will be eternally grateful to everyone who helps out and would LOVE to meet up with you and take some photos at the festival. Thank you so much for your support. <3

–Jimmy Zee

Roger –

I know why you haven’t returned any of my recent texts or direct messages. You don’t believe that I’m actually sick and I guess I don’t blame you. I can assure you, the cancer is real and I don’t have anyone else to turn to. I need $4,500 to help fund a trip to St. John where there is a shaman there who they say can pray the cancer out of me. Outside shot but I’m also told that when your prognosis is this bad, you gotta bucket list that shit, right?

I know I have no right to even ask but, in case you find it in your heart to help an old (31 years is now OLD!) college buddy out, my GoFundMe profile is linked below.

Jim

#Satire #Greedy assholes #Crowdfunding

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theliterateape · 6 years

Text

When Crowdfunding Resembles Opportunism or The Greed in Your Ask is Getting Obvious

By Don Hall

Go ahead and Google “crowdfunding abuse” and the list is long and ugly.

When Angela Vela asked me to perform a piece about Greed for her monthly show The Seven Deadly Sins, crowdfunding abuse was my target.

Dear Roger –

Remember the time when we both got so drunk that we ended up streaking in the Dillons parking lot? LMAO! I barely do. Thanks for bailing us both out, right?

Seriously, is there any chance I could borrow, like, $450 for a while until I get this all straightened out? I’m good for it, bro.

If it is, here’s my Paypal account or you can just send it directly through Chase Pay.

Thanks.

Yo, Rog!!

Long time, no see, right? How’s the wife and kid? I hope great!

Here’s the thing: the $400 I owe you went to pay for some of my first eight weeks but once I get my degree and a job writing the Funny Ha-Ha, I’ll pay you back with interest. OR...

Any amount is acceptable and you know I’m good for it. A donation of $500 will get you an autographed photo and front row seats at a live taping of SNL!

Thanks!

Dear Roger –

Will you pay my phone bill for me? I just got a text from T-Mobile telling me my bill is due.

If you could help me out, my PayPal is paypal.me/jimmyzee, my Venmo is jimmyzee (no hyphen). Square Cash is cash.me/$JimZee.

Thanks, bro.

Rogerio!!

You've been so generous in the past and I'm trying to raise money to get a plane ticket and funds for the final auditions for the 2016 season of American Idol.

Thank you for the chance!!

Hey Everyone!

I will be eternally grateful to everyone who helps out and would LOVE to meet up with you and take some photos at the festival. Thank you so much for your support. <3

–Jimmy Zee

Roger –

I know I have no right to even ask but, in case you find it in your heart to help an old (31 years is now OLD!) college buddy out, my GoFundMe profile is linked below.

Jim

#Satire #Greedy assholes #Crowdfunding

0 notes

flauntpage · 7 years

Text

Four Mock Drafts for the Vegas Golden Knights

Protected lists! They are here! It's Christmas morning!

That is, it's like Christmas morning if you were a bad kid and your parents got you nothing but socks and sweaters to teach you a lesson. Yeah, you need socks and sweaters, but no matter how many packages you tear open, there will not be a Nintendo (or whatever the kids play these days).

Likewise, the NHL is giving fans a new team with the expansion draft this week, but when we finally open it up, it's not going to be what we wanted.

The (Not Las) Vegas Golden Knights have until Wednesday morning to submit their draft list, which must contain one player from each team in the league. The roster will be revealed that night during the NHL Awards show (and probably throughout the day in the form of leaks to the media). The 30-player team must have at least 14 forwards, nine defensemen, and three goalies, and it must also be salary-cap compliant.

In the spirit of fun content, I imagined four different expansion drafts for the Golden Knights, each using its own unique criteria: one team designed solely for tanking, one team for comedic purposes only, one win-now team, and one team that represents the best possible outcome for Vegas. (And thanks to TSN's draft simulator for making this easy.)

THE RACHEL PHELPS MEMORIAL TANKING TEAM

In the 1989 movie Major League, Rachel Phelps inherits the Cleveland Indians from her dead husband. Like any sane person, she does not want to live in Cleveland, so she puts together a roster she hopes is so bad that it will drive down attendance to the point she can enact a clause in the lease with the city that would allow her team to move to Florida.

This would be the Vegas equivalent of that team.

Forwards: Jared Boll, Zac Rinaldo, Brandon Bollig, Jordin Tootoo, Matt Hendricks, Shawn Thornton, Dustin Brown, Ryan White, Steve Ott, Cody McLeod, Luke Gazdic, Cal Clutterbuck, Chris Neil, Tom Sestito

Defensemen: Josh Jorges, Eric Gelinas, Jack Johnson, Dylan McIlrath, Kevin Klein, Andrew MacDonald, Brenden Dillon, Robert Bortuzzo, Jason Garrison

Goalies: Anders Lindback, Kari Lehtonen, Cam Ward

Utility: Luca Sbisa, Brooks Orpik, Mark Stuart, Garrett Sparks

Cap hit: $69,135,476 Players under contract for next season: 20

How many games does this team win? If I set the over/under at seven, you probably need to think about it for a while, don't you? Remember: the expansion Ottawa Senators won ten games, and that team was trying.

If we're sticking with the Major League theme here:

Zac Rinaldo is Ricky Vaughn. Rinaldo is probably better suited for some sort of penal league, and it's not hard to imagine his teammates referring to him as Vedge Head.

Just a bit outside. Photo by Greg M. Cooper-USA TODAY Sports

Brooks Orpik is Jake Taylor. Orpik should be in a league outside of the United States and his knees are shot.

Jack Johnson is Roger Dorn. There's something here with both players being concerned about making as much money as possible at this point in their careers.

Steve Ott retired, but I bet he could be enticed to play one more season centering a line with Luke Gazdic and Chris Neil.

THE MITCHELL FRIEDMAN "WHO ARE THESE GUYS?" TEAM

Also in Major League, there's a scene where an Indians fan is looking over the roster and says, "Mitchell Friedman?" It's because no one has heard of those guys. If Vegas went strictly off that philosophy (I swear, this is the last Major League reference here, and this is only because it's been on HBO a lot lately), here's that team:

Forwards: Nicolas Kerdiles, Tyler Gaudet, Justin Kea, Turner Elson, Alex Broadhurst, Mark McNeil, Corban Knight, Andrew Crescenzi, Patrick Cannone, Chris Terry, Ben Thomson, Ben Holmstrom, Daniel Catenacci, Casey Bailey

Defensemen: Linus Arnesson, Tyler Wotherspoon, Dillon Simpson, Brad Hunt, Will O'Neill, David Warsofsky, Dan Kelly, Andrew Campbell, Andrey Pedan

Goalies: Daniel Altshuller, Mac Carruth, Edward Pasqualle

Utility: Mike Angelidis, Liam O'Brien, Ryan Olsen, Jordan Binnington

Cap hit: $18,529,918 Players under contract for next season: 22

When you're the biggest star on the team. Photo by Bruce Fedyck-USA TODAY Sports

As you might have surmised, this team is technically invalid because it falls way below the salary cap floor—but who cares? Mock expansion drafts should be enjoyable and picking these random names (Is Chris Terry the most recognizable name here?) was too much fun. They played a combined 60 NHL games last season!

And what if I told you some of the names on here aren't NHL players and are names I actually made up or grabbed from somewhere in pop culture?

Is Casey Bailey an Ottawa Senators center or a fringe character on Dawson's Creek?

Is Andrew Crescenzi a Los Angeles Kings center or Diane Lane's love interest in Under the Tuscan Sun?

Are Alex Broadhurst and Jordan Binnington hockey players or romantic rivals in Downton Abbey?

I guess we will never know, because you're not looking up these names and we both know it. [Editor's note: We looked up the names, and rest assured they're all actual hockey players.]

THE MARC BERGEVIN "WE NEED TO WIN NOW" TEAM

Admittedly, I have lost the feel for what the Montreal Canadiens are doing these days—they're big and tough, but they also traded for Jonathan Drouin. That said, all of GM Marc Bergevin's moves in the past year would indicate that he wants his team to win immediately. What if Vegas GM George McPhee decided he needed a playoff team in Year 1?

How would that team look?

Forwards: Alex Burmistrov, Matt Moulson, Lee Stempniak, Mikhail Grigorenko, Benoit Pouliot, Jonathan Marchessault, Trevor Lewis, Eric Staal, Tomas Plekanec, James Neal, Michael Grabner, Jordan Weal, Bryan Rust, David Perron

Defensemen: Sami Vatanen, Trevor van Riemsdyk, Jack Johnson, Dan Hamhuis, Thomas Hickey, David Schlemko, Nate Schmidt, Martin Marincin, Colin Miller

Goalies: Petr Mrazek, Michael Hutchinson, Andrew Hammond

Utility: Cedric Paquette, Reid Boucher, Troy Brouwer, Beau Bennett

Cap hit: $72,172,143 Players under contract for next season: 30

This was tricky. I originally scooped about $83 million in contracts on my first pass and had to make some hard decisions about where to spend and where to save (sorry, Bobby Ryan). Everyone is under contract for next season so no one can escape McPhee's clutches as he builds the most mediocre ship possible.

And Jim Rutherford doesn't have any agreement in place with me, so he can keep Marc-André Fleury.

Here are potential forward and defense combinations:

Perron-Staal-Neal Moulson-Weal-Marchessault Pouliot-Plekanec-Grabner Boucher-Paquette-Rust

Johnson-Vatanen Hamhuis-van Riemsdyk Schlemko-Miller

Mrazek Hutchinson

This team suuuuuuuuuuuucks! The forward group is fine enough, but once you get past Vatanen, it's just terrible on the back end. This is why McPhee can't get caught up in appeasing fans off the bat with the idea of a winning team, because it'll be a bigger disappointment when the team is bad—and there's no way of getting around this team being bad. If it's going to be bad, at least have it be bad with potential going forward.

There's no point in even drafting Vatanen and Neal (more on this when we get to my amazing team), because they can be the Norris Trophy and Rocket Richard winners next season and this team still isn't cracking 70 points.

And if you're wondering how Johnson can be on both the tanking team and the win-now team, think of that as insight into how general managers view Johnson versus his actual value.

So what is the ideal Vegas team?

THE DAVE LOZO IDEAL VEGAS GOLDEN KNIGHTS EXPANSION DRAFT TEAM

We know we can't win now. We know this is going to take forever. So we want to sprinkle the roster with motivated veterans at the end of contracts and young players who have long-term value. How will this team, which is just as bad as any of the others, look?

Forwards: Jonathan Marchessault, Alex Chiasson, Andrej Nestrasil, Mikhail Grigorenko, Lukas Sedlak, Benoit Pouliot, Carl Hagelin, Colin Wilson, Jacob Josefson, Brock Nelson, Michael Grabner, Jordan Weal, Nick Shore, David Perron

Defensemen: Josh Manson, Zach Bogosian, Trevor van Riemsdyk, Jamie Oleksiak, Matt Dumba, Nikita Nesterov, Chris Wideman, David Schlemko, Jason Garrison

Goalies: Petr Mrazek, Michael Hutchinson, Louis Domingue

Utility: Reid Boucher, Martin Marincin, Nate Schmidt, Malcolm Subban

Cap hit: $51,489,940 Players under contract for next season: 30

Years from now, you'll hear stories about how someone like Joe Thornton was a member of the Golden Knights and you'll wonder how it happened. It will be because Vegas wanted nothing to do with that roster, so they drafted a player who wasn't under contract and who they knew wouldn't join the Knights to avoid taking a bad contract or wasting a roster spot.

Hands off Marchessault. Photo by Dan Hamilton-USA TODAY Sports

For my terrible roster with potential for helping the franchise down the road, I'm assuming I have blackmailed the Ducks and the Predators out of high picks to not take Vatanen and Neal. If the Panthers want to blackmail me out of Marchessault, too bad. He's mine. You can't have him.

I'm sure if this were real life, I'd do more blackmailing, but the point is this: I want draft picks. I want them now or I want them at next season's trade deadline for rentals like Grabner or Perron. I would assure every veteran that he was on display for a trade to a contender next season, so don't half-ass it because you're miserable. Bust your ass for 20 minutes a night and hit the tables at the casino later. It's impossible to be miserable in Vegas.

With just about everyone else, I'm looking for long-term potential (Weal) or players who can do more in bigger roles (Josefson) who I can also swap. I do not—I repeat, I do not—want Bogosian, but he's a young right-handed defenseman and I think we can pump and dump him to some other team later.

I'm also taking all players I have under contractual control. Would I like Antti Raanta? Sure, but I'd rather take the 30-goal guy on the cheap contract I can flip either immediately or later and then maybe take a run at Raanta in free agency.

This team would still finish dead last next season, but I'd have like, a thousand picks in the draft. I'm trying to lay a foundation in Vegas and that foundation doesn't need Vatanen, who will be a million years old by the time the team is good, and it doesn't need Brown's contract, because getting to the cap floor is easy.

This team is going to stink no matter what, but it will stink on my terms.

Four Mock Drafts for the Vegas Golden Knights published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

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bewarethewolfarmy · 7 years

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celestite, diamond // @ all muses.

@daringobsidianCelestite: how my muse deals with anxiety(Difficult XD I'll just focus on those on this blog:RJ probably deals with it the best. The Pai Zhua master focuses a lot on self-calming techniques and breathing, easing him out of it and often is the one the others go to for help because of it.In terms of next best would be Merrick. As a warrior for most of his life he knows how to shake off concerns and to force himself into a calmer state. Unfortunately this does mean he often suppresses over actually tending to his own needs and it causes him trouble. It's gotten more difficult after his long sleep and he sometimes has episodes but they're rarely bad.Dillon like Merrick works off suppression rather than actual proper care. He though is honestly way worse off; he has a lot of issues already bottled up so when he gets stressed, he tends to explode. Especially in movie verse where he has to be separated from Tenaya, he usually wanders to try and shake it off. And when he can't he bites.Bigby is dangerous. When he feels anxiety he tends to not know how to handle it, as the Big Bad Wolf and as the patriarch of the family, so he tends to respond badly. Admittedly in movie verse he holds it in better but still he's been known to break things. He doesn't hurt people luckily though.The twins are a weird duo. Getsu handles anxiety fine, he takes tips from RJ and can calm himself easily. If it doesnt involve Tsuki; Tsuki- related anxiety tends to set him off and he's known to mumble and pace and get into a frenzy when he's worried about his sister. As for Tsuki herself she doesn't handle anxiety, not because she doesn't have any but because she internalizes it a lot. Prone to negative moods Tsuki would rather suffer in her head and neatly have a breakdown than make clear her thoughts since that would be considered bothering others in her opinion. This is one reason Getsu worries.)diamond: a sex headcanon(Oooo~RJ isn't sex repulsed but he does have preferences still. A quick way to make him uncomfortable is with more aggressive moves; while he does not mind a partner who is aggressive by nature, aggression in the bedroom is a different story. Anything close to being forced makes him pull away quickly and withdraw. He likes it better when there's a mutual respect and tender makes him much more willing.Merrick came to know his sexuality as a young warrior. While he was attracted to the princess, and indeed madly in love with her, hormones are hormones and he found he was also attracted to others. In Animaria though sexuality was less a black and white and more individual, making it confusing for him at times now when people label him. He wears the pansexual label proudly but still it can be strange for him.Dillon likes it rough, plain and simple. Though it takes time for him to develop sexual attraction for someone, once he does he does enjoy rougher fun. Marks are a staple of sex with him but that is not to say he forces anyone; the emotional attachment aspext means while he likes it that way he also loves his partner and doesn't wish to do anything they don't like.Bigby being an actual wolf had sex for the first time at what humans might call a young age but natural for him. It was only copulation though, a necessary portion of life as a wolf; unfortunately because of what and who he was, neither the pups nor the mother survived.Getsu like his sister has no particular preference gender wise when it comes to his lovers. Unlike her though romantic attraction is not a necessity, or rather he doesn't mind getting into bed with someone he doesn't really like. He prefers it though, he prefers if the person he's with is someone he sincerely cares for and he has a much better time with them but he is not against being with those he barely knows either.Tsuki finds biting very alluring. She can't help but enjoy it, sinking her teeth into someone's neck or having theirs on hers, or nipping at other parts of the body. She enjoys the red marks left but tends to get flustered later on when she notices them on her lover or herself and will whimper and pretend she didn't enjoy it, until she gets bitten again and can't hold in the moan~)