#fuck i love my extended family even if sometimes in person its uncomfortable

[she-toadmask]

Honestly I am so sorry for just venting so much on here it’s not healthy and I know I need to work on it I just usually only have those thoughts late at night or other times where it just isn’t feasible to talk to anyone else and by the time therapy time comes around I’m not thinking about it as much.

#untagged #vent #delete later #in other news it is no wonder i struggle so much i take so much after my mom it is insane #also her mom???? amazing human being i have heard three little anecdotes about her being nice to black people #like one time she drank out of a fountain labeled 'colored' because the hired help at home and her drank from the same ladle #and there was this black girl whose parents had been paid for her to be put into the school she taught at for integration #and other people were really fucking mean and she kind of wished her parents hadn't taken the money #but my grandmother let her eat lunch in her classroom and was really nice #and also this one i just learned tonight when she was going to college there was some holiday and some staff member asked her #if she would drive another student back home because the student didn't have a way to get home #the girl was black here too and my granny stopped at a diner and the other girl didn't get out because people of color weren't allowed #and my granny didn't stay in there to eat she went in and ordered to go or takeout or whatever and brought it back out #and the two of them ate together #and she always said while she was teaching that vocational schools should stay part of public educatiod #she isn't dead she's still alive we need to visit her more she got back from the hospital after a health scare #we were worried it was heart stuff but thankfully(?) it was just(?) kidney stones #she had to get surgery so it was still really not fun because she had to be in the hospital for a few days #but she's home now and she's a strong woman *knock on wood* #fuck i love my extended family even if sometimes in person its uncomfortable #but like its just really nice hearing about them #and i am so fucking fortunate to have a mother who just wants me to be happy thanks to her own mother who is just wonderful #one time i made these melt-in-your-mouth shortbread cookies because the recipe was super simple like 4 ingredients #and my parents bought a new box of butter sticks because they take a lot of butter #and i think i'm going to make a batch soon because baking is nice and i want to bring something to my granny #in other news hitting b every time i level up is very annoying #hopefully i can get some more everstones soon #just got the turffield one and seedot is getting that for sure #not that it's a permanent team member i still have cottonee and applin to pick up #my team so far is grookey oddish seedot budew and pumpkaboo

[sooibian]

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Pairing: Kyungsoo x fem!Reader ft. big brother Junmyeon, arch enemy Sehun

Genre/Themes: Established Relationship AU, Fluff, Crack, Loosely inspired by the anime Horimiya

Warnings: Sexual themes, themes of sadism and masochism (nothing explicit), slight swearing.

Description: It’s Sehun’s wedding party. Kyungsoo knew these couple of hours with you were going to be anything but pleasant, however, he didn’t expect things to spiral so quickly. 

A/N: Thank you @his-mochi-cheeks​ for encouraging me to upload this. Shy tagging my closeted dandanies @vampwrrr​ and @changshapatrol​​ since this one sparked joy.

Word count: 2.7k

*****************************************

To Kyungsoo, the best thing about weddings was the feast but since you sat sulkily sipping on green juice - whatever the fuck that monstrosity was made of - he couldn't muster the courage to gorge on bulgogi and galbi in front of you. Especially not since it was a "your side of the family" wedding and your big brother Junmyeon wouldn't quit looking at him as if he were a ticking time bomb.

He’d gone out with you for five years before finally asking you to marry him four years ago. As much as he tried, Kyungsoo failed to make peace with the fact that Junmyeon still hadn't warmed up to him. Kyungsoo firmly believed in cause and effect and he just couldn’t tell when and how he’d faltered to warrant such iciness from Junmyeon. Events like these made his thoughts tread deeper into the “where did I go wrong?” labyrinth with no escape in sight.

Kyungsoo’s stomach growled, the proximity to the buffet area wasn’t helping. He stupidly slapped a hand on it as if to stop the sound from reaching you but despite the loud music and raucous conversations, you noticed. So you offered him a sip of the disgusting green gloop which he politely declined.

Shrugging, you sing-songed mindlessly, "Oof the barbecue stall sure looks inviting."

He suspiciously studied the ever so slight movements in your features, every microexpression and chose the safest response of taking your hand in his, lacing your fingers together, and planting a soft kiss between your knuckles - conscious of the fact that he’d have to tolerate the hunger pangs for just a bit longer. He was dead sure you’d ask him to stop at a McDonald's on your two hour drive back home. None of these green gloop diets have lasted over twelve hours.

Resting his chin in his hand, Kyungsoo peered over his glasses and looked around the luxuriously and aesthetically decorated lawn. In front of the gazebo Oh Sehun and his bride slow-danced to a song he couldn’t recognise. Sehun's hand mischievously slipped down his bride's waist and she teasingly punched his chest in response. She giggled and swayed in his arms as Sehun looked into her eyes with all the love glimmering in his own. Thinking back to his own wedding day, Kyungsoo smiled to himself and planted yet another kiss on your hand. Features contorted by the nasty taste of the juice, to him you still looked just as radiant as you did on your wedding day. In the moment he wanted nothing more than to join the couples on the dance floor, wrap his arms around your waist, and sway to the rhythm of the romantic, soft beats.

So he turned to you and asked enthusiastically, “Lets dance?”

“Kyungsoo - ,” pinching the bridge of your nose, you only reacted with a scowl.

Your damp response instantly soured his expression. “Come on! Don’t be such a sourpuss!” He exclaimed, tugging at your arm.

Kyungsoo observed keenly as your gaze reluctantly turned to a euphoric Sehun. Through gritted teeth, you justified, “It’s my arch-nemesis’ wedding. What do you expect?”

Junmyeon was the Academic Director of Museum Studies at Seoul National University and Sehun was his favourite student, almost like a younger brother to him and as his biological sister, you somehow felt threatened by their relationship. Over the years, your insecurity had manifested in the way of an inexplicable resentment towards Sehun.

“Why did we even come, then?” Kyungsoo reasoned.

“To avoid having to listen to Junmyeon whinging and whining for an eternity,” you dead-panned.

“You mean the way I’ve been tolerating your whining ever since we received the wedding invite?” Kyungsoo grumbled.

Wagging your finger at him, you said, “That’s a low blow, Kyungsoo.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Kyungsoo pursed his lips and continued arguing with you, “Who even brings their own meal to a goddamn wedding?”

You rolled your eyes before listlessly scrolling through your phone. Kyungsoo understood exactly what you were upto. While you didn’t want anybody to fault you for skipping the wedding, you needed to make it known to everyone present that you were here merely out of courtesy.

On the other hand, Kyungsoo was quite fond of Sehun. The guy was fun and even-tempered and Kyungsoo truly admired people who were uncomplicated, people with whom he could freely speak his mind. It’s why he fell in love with you in the first place and stayed in love...despite all of your pettiness and quirks. Quirks that made Kyungsoo shake in his boots. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, pushed those thoughts out of his head and heaved a sigh of relief upon realizing that your eccentricity wouldn’t rear its ugly head at a family celebration.

He was jolted out of his reverie by Junmyeon who slammed a plate of dakgalbi in front of him. Kyungsoo immediately shoved his phone into an inside pocket of his blazer, inwardly reprimanding himself for behaving all the more suspiciously in front of your elder brother.

Squinting sceptically, Junmyeon remarked, “I didn’t see you at the buffet -”

“Ah - we’ve been meaning to -” Kyungsoo tried explaining the situation without having to put you in a spot. He thought, after an uncomfortably long pause, Junmyeon would drop the conversation, but he didn't. Kyungsoo gingerly ran his fingers over his brows to check if Junmyeon's intense glare had burned holes into his head. You on the other hand had your gaze fixed on your phone and didn’t break character even for a second - not even to help your husband out of an awkward conversation. So Kyungsoo picked up a pair of chopsticks to help himself to a piece of dakgalbi but Junmyeon slapped his hand away and snarled, “Ladies first.”

"O-of course," Kyungsoo stuttered, pushing the plate towards you.

"I don't wanna eat," you answered the two men, eyes now on a blank screen. Left with no choice, Kyungsoo slowly and sadly put his chopsticks down, his stomach making its annoyance known, while Junmyeon started to nag you for acting 'uppity as usual'.

Your show of indifference when Junmyeon animatedly whisper-scolded you, had started to make Kyungsoo anxious. The moment he tried to excuse himself to the bathroom, he felt your bare foot on his shoe and he froze into a still frame.

Kyungsoo shook his head at you and mouthed, 'Not now!' but you merely shot him a sweet smile in response.

"Are you even listening to me?" Junmyeon lambasted you.

"No and I haven't been listening for quite sometime now." Your reply sent a chill down Kyungsoo's spine. He was feeling a lot of things...all at once and with your toes boldly riding up his shin, he thought he'd burst at the seams. He made a mental note to have certain ground rules in place for situations like these - you weren’t much of a listener but this time he was sure to make himself heard.

"You won't be eating either?" Junmyeon asked Kyungsoo, shooting him yet another indignant glare. Kyungsoo smoothly moved his chair out of your reach but just as he extended his hand towards the plate, Junmyeon huffed angrily and walked away with it and Kyungsoo felt his heart sink to his stomach.

Tormenting Kyungsoo with a game of footsie for a while, you excused yourself to the ladies room. Ten minutes later, his phone chimed with a text from you.

'Can you come and get me? I think I'm lost.'

'No.' He replied. He was determined to not walk into your trap.

Kyungsoo clearly remembers the first time he was introduced to that side of your personality. Freshman year - it had been a few months since he'd asked you out. One evening, when things had gotten hot and heavy between the two of you, he had heard you say, 'Slap me, Soo.'

At first he thought he'd heard wrong so he ignored you but you said it again causing him to immediately pull away. Aghast, he asked, 'What did you say?'

'Slap me,' you blinked at him.

He intently studied your face - the most beautiful and the least punchable face he'd ever laid his eyes on. He wanted to do many things to you and all of them essentially involved making you feel loved and cherished and what you were asking of him was the exact opposite of how he felt about you. 

Eyes wide and lips pursed, you stood for a reaction but he would give you none. 

'Don't you love me?' You asked softly, batting your eyelashes at him. Little did you know, in that moment, he was too numb and too naked to make sense of the situation. 

At first he faulted his own personality. Kyungsoo was known to have picked a few fights here and there, had multiple piercings, and visible tattoos. Over the years, he got rid of it all and started dressing preppy but nothing changed. You still continued to ask of him something he was unwilling to give. So after a few ups and downs in your relationship, Kyungsoo finally reconciled with the fact that you were something of a sadist masochist only when it came to him.

His phone buzzed with your reply: 'The gardens at this hotel are ginormous. There's no staff here, I don't know how to find stupid lanky boy's stupid wedding party. I'm waiting by the restroom area please come and get me? ❤️'

Kyungsoo knew that you were directionally challenged. He'd test you at random and you could never tell left from right. Also, the lawn did sprawl over a considerable area but something just didn't feel right. Chewing on a hangnail, Kyungsoo sat thinking of a fitting reply only to receive another text from you.

A tempting one.

'If you come and get me now, we'll get out of here directly. No need to go back to the party.'

'What about your brother?' Asked Kyungsoo.

His phone blinked with a 'Pfft 🤪'

Patiently, he reiterated, 'I asked, what about your brother?'

'I promise I'll deal…'

'....?'

'Nicely 😘'

'Ok ❤️'

.

.

.

Kyungsoo gaped at you while you twirled his tie between your fingers and pleaded with him in a sultry voice, "Just once? Please?"

He was well aware that you knew for a fact he couldn't refuse you. Nevertheless, this time he firmly held his ground, "Are you crazy? Your entire family, your brother is just a couple metre's distance from here!"

"Kyungsoo please?" You caged him between a grainy concrete wall and your torso. The only respite to Kyungsoo in that situation was the fact that the area was poorly lit and there was not a soul in sight.

He cupped your face in his hands, planted a chaste kiss on your forehead and crouched down to whisper against your lips, "I'm not - I'm not sla- I'm not doing any of that here. Let's go home." After a lot of struggle, he finally managed to free himself from your Senior Superintendent General of Police grasp with a smirk on his face that said all your police training got nothing on him.

"Let's go," he held your hand and took a long stride towards the exit but you stayed firmly rooted to your place.

"Drag me out of here, then," you commanded.

You didn't budge and Kyungsoo wouldn't have caved under any other circumstance but…. he was hungry. Really hungry - making his stiff spine melt like candle wax. So he steeled himself, looked into your eyes, dropped his tone to a gruff, husky tenor, grabbed your wrist a little too tightly and threatened you, "Move your ass, __. Don't make me tell you again."

Exasperated, he rolled his eyes at the way yours twinkled at his crass behaviour.

"Gimme more," you said breathily.

The only way to get out of here was to stay in character so Kyungsoo did exactly that. He roughly pushed you against a wall (as gently as he could if it makes sense) and growled, "What makes you think you can act all buddy buddy with me, you ditz!" but before he could go any further he heard a man's voice yell, "How dare you!?"

Startled like a deer caught in headlights - in this case the flashlight of Junmyeon's latest iPhone - Kyungsoo turned around to find the brawny man leaping at him in attack mode at full throttle. Kyungsoo ducked, anticipating a heavy physical impact but it didn't come. He opened his eyes to you tackling Junmyeon to the ground and scolding him, "How dare you encroach upon our privacy and attack my husband!" while twisting his arm at every emphasis.

Very rarely was Kyungsoo grateful about the fact that you were a cop and this was one such occasion. He quickly moved to get you off of Junmyeon's back while the man cried out in pain, defending himself, "Pri-privacy? This is a bloody public place!"

Panting, you eventually let go of Junmyeon, fixed your hair and earrings and straightened your satin silk very pale pink dress (one that was almost white under the wrong lighting but despite Kyungsoo's repeated requests, you ended up in white at a wedding). But as soon as Junmyeon regained composure, he lunged to attack Kyungsoo again, screaming, "I always knew that there was something off about you!"

"Yah yah yahhhh!" You held Junmyeon back like you would do a violent criminal as Kyungsoo ducked again out of fear.

"Enough!" You shrieked at Junmyeon.

Kyungsoo's big brown eyes were fixed on your brother's terrifying demeanour as he barked, "I can't believe you're scolding me after what I just witnessed! That man, that man was hurting you!"

"That man? Better watch your tone Oppa, he's my husband!"

"You can't be that blinded by love or...whatever this is! Does he have something on you? You can tell me! You know I know all the right people to get you out of this mess -"

"Hyungnim -" Kyungsoo attempted to defuse the extremely tense situation but stopped short as you held your hand up at him.

"For heaven's sake, I'm happy, healthy, and safe in my marriage. That's all you need to know. Now go back to your baby brother's celebration and leave us alone!" Hand on your hip, you squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"I'm not going anywhere until you explain what just happened," Junmyeon glowered at Kyungsoo.

The younger man didn't know how to clarify this without embarrassing you and in a state of blind panic all he could think of admitting to some sort of a dissociative identity disorder. But before he could lose any more brownie points with your brother, you came to his rescue albeit not doing much to help his already strained relationship with Junmyeon.

"Kyungsoo, you don't have to tell him anything. You, Sir, talk to me. No need to drag my husband into this mess!"

Junmyeon scoffed before breaking into a hysterical laughter, "You're unbelievable, little sister. Unbelievable!"

Kyungsoo closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and started, "Hyungnim, I- "

"You have the unmitigated gall to still be standing here!" Junmyeon snapped at Kyungsoo, causing the younger man to bury his face in his hands. When the brother sister duo fell silent, Kyungsoo looked up again to find Jumyeon taking furiously long strides towards the wedding party.

"I told you this was a bad idea," Kyungsoo said quietly, rubbing the corner of his eye, as you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his chest.

"I'll fix it, I promise. I'll speak to him when he's calmed down a little," you replied, softly patting your husband's back, "Do you want to stop at a McDonald's on our way back?

Kyungsoo chuckled, squeezing you in a tight hug and kissing the top of your head, "I hate you."

"I love you, too!" You chirped, and his features lit up with his beautiful heart-shaped smile.

"So? McDonald's?" You asked coyly.

He cradled your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours. When you drew a staggered breath in response, he felt a wave of heat flushing through him. You giggled against his lips causing Kyungsoo to firmly pull your body to his. He scooped you up in his arms, kissing you with an increased fervour and rendering you breathless.

Gently pulling away, he answered in a husky, gruff voice, "Sure, dumb bitch. Took you long enough."

#exosnet #exowritersnet #kyungsoo fanfic #exo fanfic #kyungsoo fluff #d.o fanfic #kyungsoo smut #exo fluff #exo smut #exo oneshot #kyungsoo oneshot #d.o smut #exo scenarios #kyungsoo scenarios #exo x reader #kyungsoo x reader #exo x you #kyungsoo x you #exo #kyungsoo #d.o #doh kyungsoo #do kyungsoo

[insufferablelust]

Little Butterfly I (Sugar Daddy Mob Boss!Spencer Reid x Reader AU)

Warnings: Part 1 of an ongoing series (that i hopefully won’t abandon), Upcoming heavy violence, Mafia and Crime related fic, Spencer is a soft dom but is dangerous, HEAVY SMUT, upcoming dark kinks (Gun,Knife,Bondage etc), daddy kink for sure, Manipulation kink, Degradation, Humiliation (yknow the drill with me) spoiling kink?, upcoming murders etc, heavy topic regarding mental illness, College legal age!Reader, Age gap, older!Spencer, Mean!Spencer, BDSM themed, Indication of Subspace, Just heavily dark smutty series (yet again lmao) 

Hello, my wonderful readers, i want to thank you all for the patience you all have for this series, hopefully i can stick to schedule an update this once a week like Thrilled. This will be a new territory for me since all i know about mafia and such are from the movies and countless books my father has inherited me with, so i deeply apologize if there’re some mistakes, this is an AU that means its only a story and fantasy. If you are uncomfortable to violence and sex then PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS. Thank you, and Happy Reading. 

This series will set around the 80′s New York.

MASTERLIST HERE

There is no hiding from the absolute luxury you indulge in, in fact you love showing it to whoever might want to pry deep enough into your life. You caused no harm by it, and it certainly isn’t anybody’s business but yours and his.

The pair of arms around your waist is a certain remainder of who you belong to, and you loved it. He looked good tonight, almost too good with the suit adorning his perfection like an absolute genius adonis— your genius adonis. You feel your cheeks heats up slightly as he glanced at you, knowing just how shy you get around so many people— his little girl is sensitive after all.

Spencer Reid knows every little thing about you, what makes you tick, what makes you snap, what makes you bow in submission to him, and what makes you feel heavenly. He knows it all, he knows the way you trembled slightly whenever he wrapped his arms around your neck as he leaned down to kiss you, or how squirmy you get whenever he tug your hair, said your name calmly whilst shoving his fingers into your mouth— he knows everything.

—

It was a mutual agreement at first, living on 80’s New York has never been so stressful during your 20’s, all the student loans, the bartending you do sometimes, even the couple of scandalous photoshoots you sacrificed yourself doing to keep your bank account afloat. Your family never really cared much, and the only person that you truly have is Emily, your roommate.The whole ordeal was strange when you found out Emily’s ties to the mafia, being the daughter of one of the strongest mafia’s capo on America during that time. You wondered how on earth she has managed to doesn’t want to get on her father’s good side, and just except the riches that comes along with being a mob, but then again you were a stranger to it too...or so you thought.

The night she asked you to accompany her to meet her father and his boss, you shrugged and said yes, having nothing to do in the apartment other than wallowing in your own debts and sadness— you immediately agrees which put a smile on her cute face.

“I thought you didn’t want nothing to do with your father.” You asked as you raked through the closet to find something... ‘elegant’ but not too much, it’s going to be in a lavish restaurant after all. Your eyes darted to Emily’s who has been staring at her phone, smiling to whoever is texting her— you could only assumed it was one of her secret girlfriend-hookup for the week.

“Well i didn’t but money is tight, fucking inflation.” She looked up for once, lips hanging open at the sight of you standing there in a black dress, short with a slit on the thigh area— looking absolutely ravenous. “Holy fucking shit.” Emily whispered.

“What? is this enough? god i feel like such a prude.” You bit your lip as you await her comments, “You look fucking gorgeous you idiot, i mean are you sure you aren’t gay by any chance?” She laughed, which caused you to giggle, “I never said i’m not gay.. just that i’m not—

“Interested in dating, yeah yeah but we can at least fuck or something.” She jokingly raised her eyebrows as you throw your bra her way and laughed, “I just don’t want to get distracted em, especially that we live together.” You pouted before giving her a kiss on the cheek, which made her roll her eyes and smile.

Only if you knew what this meeting will entails.

—

The wine tasted exquisite on your tongue, the sweet burn of merlot was pleasant on the base of your throat which shocked you at first— maybe you should stop buying cheap wines, because the real ones are heavenly. You looked around nervously, it has been a long time since you’ve gone out to have dinner, let alone one as expensive as this.

“Stop looking like you’re about to die.” Emily whispers as she took the seat next to you, which you humorously giggle and swat her shoulder, “I’m not. It’s just.. new to me is all.” You nervously chuckled, before sipping on your wine some more. It was clear that her dad and his so called mob boss were late— which you rolled your eyes since Emily was basically rushing your make up, you just hoped that you looked decent enough, not that you want to impress anyone, its just good to feel like you’ve fit yourself to the occasion.

“Oh, you’ll get used to it.” Emily chuckled, before you could even process what she meant by that the sound of a soft elderly timbre rang through your ears, “Cara mia! Jesus, you’ve grown!” Emily slapped your thigh softly, gesturing for you to stand up.

Dear heaven, lord save your knees from buckling.

You watched as Emily greeted her father as you stood by her side, she kisses him on both cheeks as they made a small conversation that you pay no mind to since you were distracted, distracted by the pair of eyes that caught yours from the moment he walked in.

A soft yet stern eyes that held yours captive at this very moment, a presence that demands every single person for its attention, and intimidating like no other. A man, a finely sculpted man, standing in front of you in an attire that you were sure was more expensive than your whole closet, His soft looking curls marvelously falls fo his side, his plump lips were begging to be kissed— to be listened, to be heard, his tall lean figure towers over you which has you gulping down nervously— so much so that you failed to acknowledged the presence of Emily’s father calling your name.

“Y/N!” You let out a gasp before turning to shake Emily’s father’s hand, trying your best to smile as you glanced over the towering man, “So this is the Y/N i’ve heard so much about huh?” The old man snickered, looking gentle whilst maintaining a facade still. You giggled softly, “I hope there are all good things, nice to meet you Mr.Prentiss.”

“Oh please, Robert is fine. Oh Emily, Y/N this is don Reid.” He stepped back in.. what looks like an utter fear, you gasped as you realized that this is.. the mob boss Emily talked about, the masochistically handsome man you’ve been staring at— you thought a mafia boss would be someone older, but this is certainly not the case.

“Pleased to meet you both, Spencer Reid.” He extended his hand which Emily gladly took before she nudges your side whilst you were still gawking at the man, the soft yet deep timbre of his voice soothes and intimidate you at the same time, not to mention how he carries himself— practically saying he’s a god.

“Oh— um yes hello, pleased to meet you, i’m Y/N.” You bit your lip as you feel your cheeks hurt from the embarrassment, shaking his hand quickly— before you could even imagine pulling away, he gives you an amused chuckle and squeeze your hand tightly before releasing you.

“Well, let’s take a seat shall we?”

You are so fucking fucked.

--

“So, Y/N, Emily told me you’re majoring in art department, how’re you liking it?” Robert spoke as you eat your pasta slowly, trying not to show how you were trembling under the very same gaze that held you captive from the moment it arrives here. You gulped down a delicious bite of pancetta, before answering, “Oh i love it, always been my passion— well painting is, but i do love everything about art and literature.” You chuckled.

“I would love to see your art sometimes.” The voice could strangle you and you’d die happily, it really could— you glanced at the man whose been looking at you like a wolf to its prey, fingers skimming over the feet of the wine glass as a soft yet eloquent smile strikes over his face.

“Oh um, it’s not— it’s not that good, i wouldn’t want to waste your time.” You choked on your wine, feeling the burn on your throat as he let out a humorous-less laugh, shaking his head, before bringing his lean fingers to his lips. “Nothing is wasteful, not if it comes to such art like you.”

What?

“Huh?” You felt small, your cheeks heated at the reference as you tried so hard not to squirm and praised yourself by hearing what you thought you heard. Your eyes darted to his in a shy manner as he kept his composure well, licking the rim of his glass before sipping his wine gently.

“Anyways! dad, shall we talk a bit more private? i’m sure Y/N can keep the don company.” You gasped at Emily’s words, still barely grasping the previous encounter— the bottom of your heel jab at her left foot, as you glared at her, “Of course of course, don?” Robert spoke up, eyes lowering as his body turned to look at the smirking masterpiece that still stares at you with the same intensity.

“Go. We’ll be fine, won’t we angel?” You gulped down as much wine as you could without burning your throat before smiling nervously, eyes glancing back and forth to The Don and Emily.

“Y-Yes um sure.” You offered a gentle smile, even though your heels jabbed Emily’s which yet again resulted in her tiny laugh before she walks away to the back area of the restaurant.

The area was thick with intensity and glamorous lights, adding to the headache that already starts due to you being a lightweight around alcohol. Suddenly you realized, that you’re practically alone— with the don of the biggest mafia ring in America. “Go ahead and ask me the question.” He murmured sternly, causing your ears to perk at the sudden thrill that made your goosebumps rose and thrived under the shimmering lights.

“Pardon?” Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your dress as you tried so hard not to stare at the huge man, feeling as if you’re being cornered by a lion, and you his prey.

“Your cheeks are warm aren’t they? you keep biting your lips every time i muttered a word, you can’t even look at me because you know that the second you do, you wouldn’t be able to stop. Emily is right, you’re a pure little thing, its fucking cute really. If this table weren’t here separating us, you’d be across my lap already— for wearing something so slutty like that.” By the time he finishes taunting you, you stopped breathing, thigh squeezing against each other so tightly that you could feel how damp your panties are getting.

“Go ahead and ask, doll. Surely you can’t be dumb enough to think i would just allow anyone to meet me let alone a little college student like you.” His eyebrow lifted, as you nervous squirmed on your seat and breathed out.

“Why did you asked her to bring me?”

“Nicely. You know better, Y/N.”

“Sir...”

—

And the rest was history, the pair of arms around your waist tighten as the owner’s lips caress and nip at the very sensitive part of your neck, causing you to shudder and mewls. “mmh.. t-too early.” You complained, fully knowing that would only amuse him even more.

He chuckled as you had predicted, nimble fingers grazing up and down your front like feathers, delicately worshipping every inch of your skin. The blaring sound of New York’s traffic was prominent, but somehow that adds a thrilling aspect for you, months ago— you were picking up morning shifts by now, working your ass off just to gain enough cash to pay this month’s rent. But now, here you are, in the arms of the most feared yet young powerful don in the entirety of the mob community, Heck if everyone knows who he is and how much power he holds— they’d all fear him, but not you, not his fiery little butterfly.

“Shh, let me love on you a little.” Your heart warmed, familiar feeling of a thousand butterflies swarming on your belly caused your cheeks to warmed at the gesture. He said things like those often, though he made it perfectly clear that you were, you are only here for business arrangements, you knew he likes to toy over affection like this— one you aren’t supposed to get attached to. But how couldn’t you? when his hand so softly glides down the curve of your godly features, warm breath fanning across your skin from behind, whispering sweet words.

“Look so pretty for me, butterfly.” He whispered, causing you to yet again whimpers, hand clutching the sheets tightly as he moves down down down until he turned you over and settle between your legs, smiling at you. “If heaven is real, you’re definitely it.” He nipped and bit the exposed skin of your thighs, last night and the night before and before still there but like he said,

“If you agree to the terms, i’ll give you every damn thing you fucking want. Your bills, rents, loans, plus each and every single thing you wished to buy.”

“And in retur—“

“In return, you will be mine, mine to have whenever wherever i want, you won’t be my chained slave or nothing, but you’ll be mine.”

So marked you again and again he did, tearing your satin panties he did, panties that cost more than a week worth of luxury meal that he only grunted with “I’ll buy the whole fucking store, now shut up and let daddy eat his breakfast.”

You swore you’re in god’s heaven then and there, even if you aren’t sure that you believe in one, you can’t help but to think that this is some kind of miracle, your life is, here you have a perfect adonis, suckling on your clit as his fingers pump your delectable cunt in and out with such a fast pace that made you feel all floaty and flustered. The same man that commands the room whenever he walks in, the same man who pay all your bills, the same man who bought you a new lavish apartment and hands you gifts every damn day.

“Oh! oh please daddy right there..” You moaned out loud as your fingers latched onto his hair, softly tug on them as he moaned against your drippy cunt and suck your clit even harder,earning a particularly loud and lewd moan from you. “mmh! a-ah! i’m gonna—“ He held his finger up then, eyes finding yours as his mouth continues to work on your now sensitive clit. Spencer wasn’t too strict or nothing about your rules but if there’s two that he’s strict about is for you to cum only if he gives you permission— no matter the place or time, if he wants you to cum, you’ll cum— not that it’s hard, with someone as skilled as him.

When you begged and begged, he slapped your thigh only to grunt darkly, “If you can’t shut up and let daddy enjoys this, i’ll fucking take you on the balcony and fuck you for all Manhattan to see. Do you want that, Butterfly? want everyone to see what a filthy college girl you are getting fucked by someone as dangerous as me?” He slapped your cunt then, over and over again as you pant, and mewls.. Body jolts and pulsed at his ministration.

“You’re going to cum like this—“ He paused to spit directly onto your swollen clit, watching it wet the sensitive nub, “Going to cum with daddy slapping your greedy little cunt. Or you are not getting an orgasm.”

“Yes, daddy— oh!” True to his words, he spank you, over and over again, leaving you quivering and brokenly cried at the burning pleasure, “Cum princess, come on, you surely know how to thank daddy don’t you?” Your hole clenched around nothing as you arch your back and sobbed,

“Can’t— daddy please i-“

“You were so fucking desperate to cum, why not now huh? your sensitive cunt surely looks wrecked enough.” He scoffed before he spank your clit so hard you jumped at the sensation before he licked his fingers and caress your clit in fast fanning motion, not giving you enough time to even breathe as your cunt pulses and throb with overwhelming need of release, building up up up, up until you finally trembled and cum all over the bed— an orgasm so intense that you blacked out for few seconds straight.

“Shh.. shh good girl, that’s it— fuck you look so ethereal like this, butterfly.” He muses as he settle his head on your lap and admire your pulsing body, “T-Thank- y-you.. daddy.” You gathered all the strength you have left as he smiled proudly.

Your head laid on his chest as you both cuddle in silence, trying to enjoy the serenity and calm environment around you as the city below you buzzed all round. It was calming for awhile before his phone rang and you involuntarily sighs, “I know pretty girl, i know.” He muttered, before smiling apologetically- Not that he needs to.. Business arrangements, not like you’re his girlfriend or nothing.

love on you,

love on you,

let me love on you,

You forced your fuzzy subby mind to get the thoughts out, as you watched his figure put on his robe, and leaned down, “I’ll be back later okay, don’t forget to check your phone.” He kissed your forehead for a bit, letting it linger as you held back your tears, wishing he could stay with you, you need your daddy, you really really do need him now. Feeling all small and fuzzy like this. But with the blaring noise of his ringtone, you knew the don has business to take care of and of course you’re not important enough to held such important task to be left.

So you smiled all nicely and kissed all the rings finger on his fingers before bidding a tiny whimper of, “Best of luck, don.” Your head bowed a little in respect as he noticed the true and true sadness flashed across your eyes, but paid it no mind as his other burner phone blared.

“Thank you, Butterfly. Get dressed soon, and i’ll have Morgan bringing you that sandwich from the deli you love so much. I’ll see you soon.”

Oh how nice would it be if this is your life, but life doesn’t always have a happy ending after all.

——

Comment or send me a message if you want to be added to this series taglist!

#spencer reid smut #littlebutterfly #mob!spencer #daddy!spencer #matthew gray gubler smut #mgg smut #insufferableblurb

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

it’s a fucking metaphor!

Titans 3.08

i’ve finally gathered the mental and emotional resources to do this thing, so let’s go! as always, i’m typing this up as i see the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. on watching this opening scene, i was thinking back to how gar was in s1, or even the early bits of s2. the way he idolised the others, particularly dick, and his readiness to go along with whatever they said, and the way he practically bled the need for acceptance. and here he is now, openly defying dick, fully open to and aware of the flaws of the people he loves and admires, knowing he is accepted no matter what and extending that generosity elsewhere. it’s a remarkable bit of character growth that’s... sort of blossomed in the background and so rewarding to see and acknowledge. 

1.25. i guess what i really love about this conflict over how to respond to jason--as clumsily as it is sometimes written--is how their histories and individual traumas inform each character’s reaction. dick is torn between his guilt over what’s become of jason and his drive to do what batman had essentially given up on doing: he is motivated to track down red hood at all costs but there’s a sense that he’s not completely sold on the idea that the only way to stop him is to kill him. (he might go the comics route and try to put him in arkham? god, imagine if the season ended with jason in arkham.) kory’s never had much of a connection with jason in the first place, and jason has done one of the worst things he could do in her book: track and kill a member of her newfound family and is threatening to kill more. 

and gar... sure. look. the idea of jason and red hood as separate entities appeals to him; that red hood emerged when jason was drugged to the gills by scarecrow and lost his usual inhibitions. gar’s struggled with what he becomes when he’s pushed to his limits, too--he did rip open that experimenting scientist with his teeth way back in 1.07, after all, and he was brainwashed by cadmus in s2 into becoming a literal monster. he needs to think, to know, there’s a dichotomy, a line that can only be crossed under extreme duress or by outside influence. 

and he says--and we say--that he was accepted back into the titans in spite of what he’d done, but was he really? gar’s always struggled with his footing in this group; relegated to the caretaker, the tech guy, the gatekeeper, and sometimes punching bag even though everybody’s paying lip service to how much of a family they all are. perhaps gar reaching out to jason and offering acceptance is aspirational on his part: perhaps this is the effort he hoped the titans put/or will put into getting gar back, even when it would seem like he’s too far gone.

1.5. anyway my point is that i don’t think it’s worth discussing this in terms of right/wrong decisions because all of their reactions make a lot of sense given their backgrounds/personalities. gar is doing a fine job here of tracking down jason’s friends and trying to find him that way, but we the audience know that jason is ultimately going to end up an anti-hero/eventually-hero character, so with that knowledge in mind we know that gar’s reaction is the right one. it’s knowledge that the other characters don’t have, so to judge them on it is... uh, unfair.

1.8. also, molly is awesome, yay!

2. dick and barbara flirting over the phone is so cute! i love to see this side of dick: lighter, peppier, willing (even if somewhat reluctantly) to put his mission aside to go out on a date with his girlfriend. and i love how easy this makes his dynamic with kory too: it’s all very domestic and utterly delightful. 

(also, re: the water leak in barbara’s office--you’re saying GCPD could afford fancy-schmancy table-wide touch screen computers and evil-lair lighting but needs its frickin’ commissioner to catch leaking water from above her desk with mugs and fishbowls????)

2.2225. this is probably a teeny tiny thing and i’m not sure i want to bring it up at all BUT. the fact that dick feels compelled to lie to barbara about not liking fancy gala food and eating something more substantial before the date? not a terribly great sign, though i wouldn’t call it a red flag per se. 

“this from a man who forced his students to eat cauliflower crust pizza...”

3. so.... conner and kom are a Thing. huh.

in theory i really like the idea of them bonding over an innate alien-ness and longing for a place they could really belong. both of them are alien twice-over: conner a mix of kryptonian and human, practically generated in a test tube, and kom being somebody that was born different and rejected by her own people, now stuck on a planet dominated by an entirely different species. i even like them exploring this bond physically. i guess it’s the sense of... uneasiness around what we do and don’t know about kom that makes this scene land slightly left of centre to me. i think titans, especially through s2, has cultivated in its audience a sense of distrust even until the final episode, just in case somebody vital to the season is suddenly revealed to have had ulterior motives (i’m even low-key suspicious of leslie). i really want to see this kom-conner dynamic play out but the anticipation of watching the other shoe drop is sucking out the enjoyment.

4. for fuck’s sake dick, gar’s not your gatekeeper.

TIIIIIIIIMMMMM \O/

4.5. i love this nod to tim’s origins in the comics, the way he just comes in and lays out all his evidence and makes it clear to dick that he needs tim’s help as robin. the fact that he was there at the flying graysons’ last performance, he was obsessed with their acrobatic moves, and was observant enough to connect those moves with that of robin and later nightwing... all of this came together to put him where he is right now.

(i also love how he can’t contain his giddy excitement when talking about the day dick grayson’s parents died... to dick grayson. even if dick weren’t nightwing, that would be a deeply uncomfortable thing! yet tim can’t help himself, and i love him for it.)

4.8. it’s a testament to how much dick’s caught off-guard that he can’t come up with a better response to tim’s allegations other than “uh... he stole my moves! as you know, no two gymnasts in the world are allowed to do the same moves. now, let me escort you out while pretending poorly that i’m not at all shaken by this...”

4.9. i’ve talked about this before, but i find the logic around secret identities in this universe utterly fascinating. the titans don’t make much effort in keeping their identities secret: everybody seems to know that kory is starfire for instance, or that gar is beast boy. dick grayson is seen hanging out with kory a lot, especially at crime scenes. it won’t take a lot of sleuthing to find out that the titans are currently camped out at wayne manor, and to put two and two together.

my theory was that superheroes and villains have become such an integral part of daily society that it’s almost not worth it to seek out their secret identities, or that it’s just not a big deal anymore. like politicians or diplomats, not everybody bothers to look into who exactly their local politician is, but the people who know just... know. it’s a sort of unspoken social contract.

tim’s broken this contract by confronting dick about his identity, and dick’s not ready to deal with it. not entirely.

look at him! *pinches his cheeks*

5. ngl, it was quite satisfying to see jason knock the scarecrow out like that. 

5.5. i guess... the question of jason’s culpability is always going to be a thorny one and would make for a great courtroom drama spinoff. there are a number of factors to consider: jason’s personality, the rough circumstances under which he grew up, his undoubtedly stressful transition to being robin, bruce wayne being... well, bruce wayne, never feeling accepted by the titans and having most of them turn on him, being roundly defeated and almost killed by deathstroke, alfred’s death, a fuckload of ptsd, his violent death, crane’s manipulations, coming back to life, crane plying him with a drug. but there is no easy line to draw between any of these factors to his actions. i think it would be a disservice to jason’s character to attribute his actions entirely to these things and rather irresponsible to do so. i think jason has to reckon with the fact that when he took crane’s drug, he wasn’t reckless and chaotic like the thugs he gave it to; the planning that went into hank’s death was meticulous and the way hank died--dawn essentially tricked into pulling the trigger that blew her lover into bits--is so drawn out and cruel. 

5.75. it’s occurring to me that crane might have given jason a placebo. maybe jason’s dependence is psychological, and he’s externalised his fears in such a way that he believes crane’s drugs literally wipe them out, however temporarily.

in any case, the boy needs (more) therapy.

6. “he walked like robin...” fuck, tim

“gait recognition sweep” god, this show. i don’t know whether to laugh or cry. hey, once we’re done doing this gait recognition thingy, can we get a goddamn plumber in the house??? or move the commissioner’s desk so that sewage water isn’t dripping on her head or the million dollar touchscreen desk???????

6.5. oh no dick!!!!!! i am delighted that you got hurt but i feel ashamed about it! that looked like it really hurt!

he’s really not having a good time of it, is he. from being shot by a sniper to slamming at full speed into an suv, he’s got to be really fucking battered by now. and that’s just the physical side of it.

“can you believe that just over a week ago i was sitting in san francisco eating cauliflower crust pizza and feeling good about myself for the first time in five years...”

7. kory’s having visions again! now that she’s figured what they are, do you think the show’s just dropped justin? it’s curious that HPG hasn’t been brought up in a while after featuring relatively heavily in the beginning. hmmm.

8. dick’s in hospital but... he looks remarkably whole for someone who took a spill like that. you’d think he’d at least have a bruise to show for it. on the other hand, i love that the first thing he says is ‘i need to call home’. reminds me of season 1 dick and his clumsy attempts to explain away his found family as an ‘alliance of necessity’ or some bullshit. what a long way he’s come!

*gasp* dick’s hallucinating again!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m doing the dick’s hallucinating dance! can you believe that we’re carrying over these huge honking issues unearthed in season 2 onto season 3? can you believe?!!! all that time and effort i spent talking about dick’s mental health from last season has not gone in vain!!

... ahem. anyway. more on this later.

“hold on barbara, i think kory gave me the number to this therapist that she kept calling Hot Psychiatrist Guy...”

9. just an interlude to say that i’m barely halfway through the episode and i’ve already written 2k+ words... ugh. i’m going to try and be more concise.

10. man i fuckin love it when titans goes all out with its weird mindscapes and i’m extra glad that kory’s the focus this time. is that baby kom or maybe a secret sibling that neither of them knew about? was that lady luand’r? and is this place where kory was circling where the secret sibling is? it’s all very intriguing. 

(if justin turned out to be that sibling... we’ve a real luke/leia situation on our hands.)

11. aw, i knew that nice security guard was going to die, but it still hurt to see him go :(

12. this show is so bizarre. like i get the mindscape as a narrative device, but jason using sex workers to try and vocalise his guilt about killing hank was just weird. like. i have to use tamil, sorry: idhulaan yaaru pa room pottu yosikara??? some things just can’t be translated into a second language.

i guess one way to interpret jason’s reckoning with what he did to the titans as a sign of him coming off crane’s drug, but i think it’s more to do with the disillusionment of realising that he was a mere pawn in a more sinister plan, and not, as he thought, a player in control of his destiny, rising to the purpose of liberating gotham of its fears in a way batman never could. along the way, he’s done some truly irreversible damage. it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

13. another hallucination! it’s really intriguing that it’s a young dick(?), younger than we’ve ever seen him, wearing an early-era robin costume from way before he even became robin. (this is also interesting in that it gives credence to the idea that ‘robin’ is an identity that dick created entirely on his own, and as a possible homage to his family.)

“old road, old house... it’s all gone.” i wonder what it all means.

13.5. it’s entirely likely dick’s hallucinating because of a brain injury from the accident, though just hallucinations without any other focal neurological deficit is unusual. he might’ve been microdosed with fear toxin at some point, though i wonder when... did jason do so after dick’s accident? did he get dosed at the factory from last episode? 

it’s also possible it’s a continuing manifestation of dick’s issues from last season--which, if you remember, he never told anyone about and therefore never properly addressed. maybe he was hallucinating bruce wayne in a psychotic episode accompanying an acute stress reaction and maybe that’s what’s happening now. nobody’s denying that he’s under an extraordinary amount of stress right now. another way to look at it is that this is how he externalises conflict that he can’t bear to suppress anymore; if in s2 halluci!bruce manifested his insecurities and self-loathing, then these hallucinations... something to do with his fears, no doubt.

yet ANOTHER way to look at it might be: rachel is reaching out to him through their, well, psychic bond. after all, they were able to use that bond unconsciously last season to get the titans back together; maybe rachel has learned to gain a degree of control over it in themyscira and is sending across warnings? it’s all very intriguing.

anyway:

“i hear you skipped over the discowing suit in your evolution to nightwing... how could you??”

14. can you imagine, gar did all the work of reaching out to jason via molly and jason wants to meet dick? smh.

14.5. “i’m just a regular guy doing regular things” he says, standing at the opening of a secret old tunnel, like a secret person doing secret things, confronting someone who can now officially be called his stalker. neither of you guys are ‘regular’

14.8. ‘my dad was a cop and he taught me how to investigate’ - hmmm. i guess they’re trying to Explain Tim but i don’t think that’s really necessary. so he’s smart and he’s obsessed with batman and robin--that should be enough, imo. 

15. that scene with scarecrow and his mother was... wow. i’m just laughing here helplessly, because what the hell? for a while i thought it was an extended dream sequence and i’m still not entirely sure that it isn’t...

anyway. i still love that titans is happy to throw out its plot in favour of extended character-exploration sessions.

15.5. it seems to me that this scene with crane and his mother (i have no idea if there’s anything in the comics similar to this) serves to move forward this season’s theme of harmful legacies and how parents can damage their children in the name of their mission. in a way it’s been the underlying message of the entire show but we’re really seeing it being reinforced this season. the titans, serving as a foil to scarecrow, are using the damage to rebuild themselves and actually work through their issues together, instead of spiralling further and further into the morass of their issues.

other than that... god, that scene was painful to watch. i can’t say i like this version of scarecrow or how this actor plays him at all.

16. i wonder what’s jason’s play here. i think he’s smart enough to realise that the titans aren’t going to just forgive him and let him be a titan again after what he did, and that dick agreeing to it is just a bid to pin both him and crane down. maybe it’s a ploy to trap them, get back on scarecrow’s good books so that he can have the drug again. who knows.

17. i absolutely felt dick when he said “we’ll bring him in and then re-assess the situation.” what the fuck else is he going to say? the priority is to get him.

so kory and dick are both hallucinating while potentially trying to rehabilitate their murderous siblings. CONFIDE IN EACH OTHER ALREADY

18. TIM NOOOO! you beautiful, reckless fool!

18.25. just to quickly address it here because i know it’s been brought up before: i think it’s perfectly justified to not have conner take tim to the hospital via superspeed because a) i don’t think we’ve seen conner do that with anybody so far and b) it’s probably not a good idea to submit tim’s body to that kind of stress without knowing what it would do to him. the paramedics with actual equipment and experience would be there in a few minutes, so on a risk assessment, i would say dick and conner absolutely made the right call.

18.5. i guess we won’t know what jason really intended to when the titans came to the pump to see him, but this is definitely going to set a big wedge in his relationship with crane. then again, crane got what he wanted--using starfire’s powers to blast through to the underground pipes--so jason can argue that this is exactly what he was working towards, too. 

anyway, mortal peril, hallucinations, murderous family members, creepy visions and robins sprouting left and right. time to get rachel and donna on the scene, i think.

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #garfield logan #dick grayson #koriand'r #jason todd #tim drake #jonathan crane #conner kent #komand'r #aaaaah this is 3k+ #*collapses in a heap*

[growing-yet-into-magic]

I posted 2,957 times in 2021

289 posts created (10%)

2668 posts reblogged (90%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 9.2 posts.

I added 962 tags in 2021

#witchblr - 198 posts

#growing-yet - 198 posts

#growing’s nonsense - 119 posts

#old news - 106 posts

#books - 77 posts

#growing's nonsense - 72 posts

#witchcraft - 54 posts

#affirmations - 47 posts

#library posting - 47 posts

#witches of color - 44 posts

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

I think that mushrooms and fungi are semantically interesting and a fascinating part of nature that’s under appreciated by most

if you try to make me eat one I will scream.

483 notes • Posted 2021-02-28 21:28:51 GMT

#4

See the full post

492 notes • Posted 2021-11-10 01:48:59 GMT

#3

Research and Witchcraft Masterpost

Here are all the research posts I have made (that I can find) for longterm posterity.

The Big Fat Library post

Advice on approaching Folk Magics

How I read and review witchcraft books

Current list of book recommendations (with a focus on the context of the Witchcraft community)

Contents of my personal library, in case you want to ask me anything about any of the books I own or want pictures of anything in them

My advice for new witches for approaching the craft

Doreen Valiente’s books and a brief description of the Olde Religion

A faintly outdated recommendation for newbies to witchcraft

Recommendations for the second steps into witchcraft

And, of course, the best advice I ever gave:

See the full post

534 notes • Posted 2021-08-08 17:10:54 GMT

#2

This book is thin, easy to digest, and full of lots of really great ideas on a no-dig, permaculture style of gardening. I’m really excited for Spring even though it could take a couple years to get this going— I just want to see stuff grow again!🌸 🌱

1062 notes • Posted 2021-02-20 23:14:26 GMT

#1

“Hey. Don’t join cults.” Example red flags.

Don’t think “hey, I’m smart, I won’t get sucked into a cult. :/” Smart people get sucked into cults all the time. Learning how to recognize manipulative speech and behavior isn’t about being smart. Since I am always worrying about novices wandering into cults because they’re interested in witchcraft or the occult, here are some pretty obvious warning signs of a group having uncomfortably cult-like tendencies:

There is a clearly defined leader, who is resistant to criticism from inside or outside their group

There are continuing financial demands from members that are unsustainable or unreasonable, and usually is controlled by a single leader

The “there is a specific leader” that is venerated just for being the leader thing is a big warning on its own.

Love bombing. It often doesn’t come with any explicit understanding that a group’s love for you is only extended to fully committed members of the group; it’s not that you are liked, specifically, but that they like what you represent. A new or potential recruit. Huge hugs and big smiles and immediate acceptance on day one, for a complete stranger, doesn’t make emotional sense.

The group or the leader works to separate you from your external friends and family members outside the group. There might be a “they can never understand what we do” or “they are trying to get you to leave us” manipulation. Big red flag. That’s an attempt to make you cut out your own exit strategies.

Abuse cannot be tolerated in a group. That includes emotional, mental, physical, or sexual abuse. Read up on kinds of abuse. Sometimes you have to call the whistle on abuse happening to yourself in your life.

“We’re the only right thing. There are no other right things in the world. If you leave, bad things will happen. Outside people are bad. You have to stay with us to stay safe. You have to listen to us and the leader.” RED FLAG.

Hazing. If the entrance to a group is based on putting you in a physically or emotionally humiliating or painful position, making you do something you don’t agree with, asking you something unpleasant or awful, hey, consider this: fuck that?

Excessive mystery. Sure, a secret society is not going to tell you everything, but they should at least be able to tell you the name of the leaders, who to contact, what groups they split off of, any training they had as an initiate in other groups, if they are initiated in anything else, the general idea of what they do, etc. You should also be able to ask them if they demand anything sky-clad or if they drink alcohol, for instance, and if there is a minimum age for entry.

There should be a minimum age for entry. It should be the legal age of adulthood. Full stop.

They demand that you forgo or stop your medical treatments, including psychiatric medication. It’s one thing to provide evidence as to their own opinion on the efficacy of modern medicine. It’s another to peer pressure you out of cancer treatments or treatments for chronic illness.

Any leader claiming they are the true herald of your god or the only one who can speak to them the “right way”. Even initiatory traditions will be able to recommend other ordained priests and initiated religious leaders in their tradition who are reputable diviners.

Research existing cults. Listen to cult survivors. They often have a great perspective on the manipulation they underwent in order to get sucked into a foreign mindset to their own.

When in doubt: is this something a Scient*logist would do to recruit me? Is this something a scientol*gist would do to keep me in a cult? Exploit my faith? Take my money? Follow me around? Is this something really cool, or do I just like the idea that I get to join a really cool secret society? Will this put my safety or wellbeing at risk? Will I lose my career, friends, family, or health by continuing in this group? A cult could be anything-- a self help group, coven, discord server, groupchat, online class, anything. There is no limit as to the format. My reading recommendation for navigating this kind of situation in witchcraft is Traditional Wicca by Thorn Mooney. Even if you are not Wiccan, it’s still a great primer on how to look for a functioning coven that matches your safety and personal spiritual needs. It’s a thorough read on the subject matter of looking for a spiritual group to join.

Be safe. Be smart. Be cautious. And most of all, remember-- when it comes to your spiritual experience, you should be in charge of it. No one else. You are the witch.

Blessings!

3135 notes • Posted 2021-03-18 19:34:35 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#growing's nonsense #oh I do like these posts #remember when I posted more often? #yeah me too #my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[consumeconstantly]

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 5

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

3:00AM | CoffeeVamp: bb bat update us TheOG: ^^ more info on the situation in paris

3:28AM | Demonspawn: It is difficult to obtain information on Hawkmoth. The butterflies disperse after they are cleansed, and before they land their target, they don’t show up electronically.  Coffee Vamp: o how the mighty have fallen i thought u said u could best me bb boi

3:42AM | Demonspawn: I’d like to see you do better. Coffee Vamp: IS THAT A CHALLENGE Coffee Vamp: ill take u up on that gimme 24 hours and ur going down TheOG: he has had a whole month so dont be too sure of that LadyLady: would you guys SHUT UP its two and some of us have jobs to do Coffee Vamp: cmon babs u luv us dont deny it LadyLady: Don’t make me hunt you down, Tim. Coffee Vamp: oOooO proper punctuation im shaking TheOG: just shut off notifications Babs TheOG: Bruce does Jesus: i don’t think the man has checked this chat in years Coffee Vamp: wdym brucie checks the chat all the time hes just a silent lurker Coffee Vamp: he doesnt even set himself to invisible

3:57AM | Daddy is away. Coffee Vamp: im so glad i have admin privileges imagine if i didnt bruce would have a boring normal nickname like his actual name LadyLady: good lord, why am I even in this chat?? Daddy: You’re supposed to keep them under control. Coffee Vamp: SEE I TOLD U BRUCE IS A SILENT LURKER> THIS. IS. SOLID. PROOF. IN YOUR FACE TheOG: nobody said otherwise Coffee Vamp: also how are the people have you made friends Jesus: Demon spawn? Making friends? Id be less surprised if he told us he has a new fling Coffee Vamp: is j right? Got a winter fling? 

4:12AM | Coffee Vamp: ur lack of a response tells us nothing  TheOG: im sure he’s just adopted his usual icy persona Coffee Vamp: haha hes the bb of so many things Coffee Vamp: bb vamp bb demon spawn ice ice bb Coffee Vamp: getitt im so funny

4:36AM | Coffee Vamp: guys?

“I told you I could get her to write her number on your cup,” Marinette grins with pride.

“And I told you I didn’t want her to.” Damian scowls and kicks a pebble in his path.

“You’re still wearing the clothes I picked out for you,” she points out.

“You told me to wear it. I wore it. I’m not interested in her.” 

Marinette squints at Damian, evaluates whether he’s telling the truth or not. “Huh, you really aren’t interested. I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t wear the other outfit I picked out for you-- that one would have gotten her to ask you out on the spot.”

Damian groans. “We’re going to have to find a new coffee place.”

“Or we could just come when she’s not on shift and run away like mice when we do see her?”

Damian gives her The Look.

“But they have good coffee here,” Marinette whines.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before dressing me up and sending me to my death.”

“It’s not my fault! You only have your parents to blame for your looks.”

It’s true; both of Damian’s parents are good-looking. His whole family is, actually, adopted or not. All of the good looking people he meets are talented and have a tragic life story. Which is the cause and which is the effect, Damian isn’t sure. But it holds true even in Paris. All he has to do is look at Marinette or Adrien, though he’s not a hundred percent sure where the tragedy kicks in for Marinette. Probably the time when she was at odds with Lila, but he hasn’t looked much into the situation. He can even use Lila Rossi as an example. She has even worse color coordination than Damian is, but her features are model worthy. Lila Rossi is also definitely fucked up in ways that Damian doesn’t care to explore.

The effects of Marinette’s well-placed compliments has Damian thinking about himself in a positive manner that he never has before. Bruce is always stingy with praise, and the other senior members of the Justice League of America see him as another Robin that doesn’t need praise because competency comes with the mantle. Dick and Barbara compliment him occasionally, but that’s rarer now that his place is more firmly cemented in the family. Damian doesn’t think he’s ever had someone so willing to genuinely compliment him. Marinette’s compliments extend to more than just his looks, as well. She praises his technological skills as he sets up her website and has complimented him as he helps her out with whatever altercations she inevitably comes across on the streets. If he reveals his skills as Robin, reveals himself as Damian Wayne, will he receive even more praise?

“But since we did buy you that absolute knockout of an outfit, you’re going to have to wear it eventually. So whose heart do you want to steal?”

“I don’t want a relationship,” Damian repeats. They seem like more effort than they’re worth, and he always sees couples fighting and complaining about each other. Plus, they have to make time for each other and his alter ego doesn’t allow for that, though he supposes that he isn't Robin. At least, not right now.

“You don’t need to want a relationship just to flirt with somebody. Who’s it going to be? The intern at the Louvre? My parent’s newest hire? Oooh, how about Nicolette?” Marinette’s voice takes on a more mischievous tone. 

Damian will give Marinette this much: her taste in the aesthetics of people is far from bad. The intern from the Louvre is two hundred pounds of lean muscle with a devil-may-care smile and a deep, belly laugh that makes people laugh with him, but Damian and he don’t have anything in common. Her parent’s new hire is knockout gorgeous, with warm brown eyes, and definitely the kind of girl Damian would have gone for as a one night stand back in Gotham. However, he’s also 98% sure that she has a very possessive boyfriend who stops by the bakery every time she has a shift. Nicolette is considered her college’s belle, and her intense gaze paired with her surprisingly friendly demeanor might have been appealing to Damian if she weren’t ten years older than him. 

“I’m not into any of them,” he says, simply.

“Then who are you into? Surely someone has caught your eye in the past month?” Marinette looks genuinely curious, but her expression shifts into horror. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I never asked your preferences, if I was being insensitive, I’m sorry, I mean I’m pan, but you absolutely don’t have to tell me, it’s your right if you’re not comfortable.”

Damian does look slightly uncomfortable now that she’s looking at him more closely. His arms are crossed over each other, across his chest, and his hair is tousled. Then, he lets out a small laugh, and Marinette melts. “It’s fine, Pigtails. All of the people you listed are attractive, but I’m not attracted to them. I’m more of a personality guy, though I can’t say that personality has stopped me from things more than dates before.”

He’s had his fair share of hook-ups and makeout sessions in the past when feeling particularly frustrated with something that wasn’t going his way, though his primary method of relief is through sparring. Short missions and one night stands go fairly well together; he doesn’t ever have to deal with people wanting long term relationships, and even if they do, he’s gone before they know it. So far, he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in Paris, but then again, he’s only been here for a month and this is a long term mission. Whatever time he’s not with Marinette or at school is dedicated to piecing together the mystery that is the Miraculous and trying to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity. 

“Oh,” Marinette continues to blush.

She’s clearly too embarrassed to bring up any other topic, so Damian decides that he’ll shoot the same conversation topic back at her. Marinette is attractive, and people she meets ask for her numbers and dates often enough. She’ll accept the former if they aren’t a total creep, but she always turns down requests for dates.

“And you? Why aren’t you out there questing for love? No crushes or significant others that I need to beat off with a stick?”

This does manage to lessen her flush. She frowns, turns something over in her mind. 

“No crushes right now, no. I used to have a huge crush on Adrien just a year ago. He’s such a sweet person, but we don’t see eye to eye on important matters.” And also not into sex, either. Even physical affection hits him the wrong way sometimes, which makes Marinette worry even further for his well being with Lila’s constant touches. Still, he hasn’t said anything, and Lila hasn’t done anything more than grasp his arm or shoulders every now and then, to reassure the class that yes, they are the golden couple. Marinette also suspects that he is very unwilling to talk about the whole situation in general, and it’s not as though they’re super close.

Of course she had a crush on Adrien. Damian can see it now, Marinette looking at Adrien with her big blue eyes, her lashes fluttering when she gets close to him. Stuttering when she gets embarrassed or when she gets close to him. It makes his lungs constrict, but he’s not sure why.

“As for past relationships, there’s only really Luka. We had a pretty good run, but he’s out of the country, touring. He wanted to try long distance, but I didn’t really want that. But he’s respectful-- there’s no need to beat him off with a stick or anything.”

“I’m surprised a pretty girl like you doesn’t have more suitors,” Damian says, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk as they walk towards the park.

Marinette gags. “There are some other people who have been interested, but I wouldn’t exactly consider them relationship material. If you’re going after a girl just because she looks exotic, that’s sort of nasty. I guess I’m just unlucky in love.”

“At least you’re not as bad off as Ladybug is,” Damian jokes.

She looks at him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, first there was that creepy sculptor who must have been twice her age, then there’s Chat Noir who keeps flirting with her despite her requests not to, plus all of the random love akumas. I’m not even going to talk about the hordes of guys who chase after her, trying to get a date just because she’s a superhero. It’s not even like she can kick them between the legs because she has an image to uphold and all that.” He smirks, nudges her with his arm. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that with some of your stalkers.”

“Oh. You’re right, huh. Though, I don’t think Chat Noir has actually flirted for a while now.”  Chat Noir has been very subdued as of late, and it makes Ladybug worry.

Marinette feels uncomfortable with the way the conversation has shifted. How does Damian know about all of these past akuma attacks? As far as Marinette is aware, most information about anything Miraculous related is difficult to get a hold of abroad, largely because the Miraculous try to hide their existence as best they can, and partially because Mayor Bourgeois doesn’t want word to get out that he hasn’t flushed a supervillain terrorist out even though he’s had three years to do it.

“Copycat happened three years ago.” It’s a question, almost.

“I figure I might as well keep up with the heroes of Paris. I’m here and they’re interesting.” Damian figures this is as good a time as any to bring up his interest in Hawkmoth. Marinette has been nothing but helpful and she’s definitely the kind of person whose heart is in the right place. Not to mention that she’s definitely smart and seems impartial; the one time he asked her about her thoughts on the heroes, he found out that she didn’t see them as perfect. She was able to critique Ladybug in full, which seemed pretty odd considering the rest of Paris seemed to have nothing but glowing praise for the heroine. “You’ve had some awful luck with akumas yourself. Weird how Ladybug didn’t show up when you got kidnapped by Evillustrator. One of the only times she didn’t show up for an akuma.”

“And what happened to the other heroes? It’s mostly Ladybug now. She must be in an awful state with her civilian life.” He looks off to the park, occasionally flicking his attention back Marinette’s face, evaluating her expression.

She catches his eyes and he swiftly looks away, looking almost nervous. Marinette stiffens. He knows, he knows, he knows, he can’t know. But how? How does he know that she’s Ladybug? She hasn’t let anything slip around him. She's been careful not to. Everything she’s ever said about Ladybug has been brief and curt, taking on an almost angry tone.

“If you’re so interested in Parisian heroes, I’m sure you saw the press conference Ladybug and Chat Noir gave last year about why the other heroes would be showing up less often.” Marinette keeps her voice carefully neutral. She needs to play this safe. She’s probably over reacting-- she’s been on edge with Hawkmoth sending out an akuma attack nearly every single day for the past few months.

Damian shakes his head. “It didn’t seem like good reasoning. Ladybug and Chat Noir are too untrained. They haven’t beat two villains in three years. They should let someone else take over.” 

Marinette has come across a good number of Ladybug and Chat Noir haters throughout her time. Those who dislike the Parisian heroes often make the exact same arguments Damian is now. That they’re not fast enough. That they should have taken down Hawkmoth and Mayura already. This is nothing new to her, though it does hurt hearing it from Damian, for some reason. She can’t even argue with most of the points he’s brought up. Going mostly solo was because of her own, selfish reasons. She really should have beaten Hawkmoth and Mayura by now. 

“The only thing they have going for them right now is that they’re keeping their Miraculous out of Hawkmoth’s hands.” She pretends that the reason why Chat Noir doesn’t show up to battle is to ensure that Hawkmoth can’t get both of the Miraculous in one fell swoop. It feels hopeless to fight villain after villain without any movement forwards. Her mind wanders to the increasing frequency of akumas and smiles, sardonically. “Some people think it’s only a matter of time until Ladybug and Chat Noir lose.”

“Hawkmoth almost seems to be the better strategist.” The two of them pass store front after store front. “Do you ever wonder what they look like, under the mask? Who they are?”

Marinette stares at the concrete underneath her feet. Hawkmoth, the better strategist? Laughable, and entirely incorrect. Even the people who hate Ladybug admit that her plans almost always work out, and that her plans are second to none. Really the only person who can possibly think that Hawkmoth is a better strategist is--

She can’t think like that. Damian is her friend. He’s just curious about Paris. Her lack of sleep and increase in paranoia re making her imagine things that are impossible. Besides, Damian isn’t on her list of suspects-- he told her he’s only been here for a short time, and Hawkmoth’s Miraculous definitely has a limited range. It’s a real pity that the world of Miraculous makes concrete evidence hard to come by, otherwise, Marinette likes to think Hawkmoth would have been behind bars already. 

“No,” she lies. Hawkmoth haunts her dreams and every waking hour. She spends hours and hours on theories and scouring out information and people who fit the clues she’s painstakingly pieced together. “Not really.”

Damian’s eyes are a piercing green, and for a moment, Marinette thinks she stops breathing. “Is that so? I’m really interested in who Ladybug is under the mask. I’d love the opportunity to talk to her in person, especially about her Miraculous. The powers she has are… very interesting.”

No. There’s no way that Damian can be Hawkmoth, right? This is all just her paranoia speaking. Damian is just a foreigner who is interested in super heroes. It’s no biggie. Still, she can’t shake off the idea that there’s more to Damian than meets the eye. The way he walks-- no, prowls-- commands respect. Marinette can tell that he knows how to fight, and knows how to fight well. He’s very good at finding information on people-- she sent a whole case file to her on Renee and his situation with his mother within twenty four hours of going into the precinct, complete with video evidence Marinette knows should have been impossible to procure without hacking-- and keeps up with her critiques on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s techniques like he’s watched their battles over and over again. He remembers akuma battles Marinette has half forgotten, because they happened so long ago.

She stares up at him, hands shoved in the pockets of the jacket she chose for him when they went on their wardrobe makeover. Damian is surprisingly wealthy; he purchased anything she even glanced at with passing approval. He looks straight forward, apparently waiting for some response from her. Just because Damian is her friend, doesn’t mean she can immediately expunge him from her list of suspects. So far, she has taken all of Damian’s words at face value. It didn’t matter to her that he rarely talks about his family or his life before Paris. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t brought her to his home during all of the weeks that they’ve been hanging out together. Really, Marinette just figured that he had a rocky relationship with his family, and that he may have been on the poorer side and was embarrassed to show her where he lived. But clearly. Damian is well off enough to afford brand name clothes without batting an eye. Things aren’t adding up. All of the red flags that she’s blatantly ignored start to crop up in her head.

The book on the species of butterflies that akumas are made of, tucked under his arm. The way he showed up after every single akuma attack when she rarely saw him in the area before or during it. His knowledge of the three languages that form the basis of the Miraculous Tome-- Mandarin, Arabic, and English.

If he is Hawkmoth, what sort of emotions would he be feeling right now? Some sort of euphoria, maybe, realizing that he could get infinitely closer to Ladybug when she is Marinette. Anticipation, too. Has Marinette been hanging out with a super villain for the past month? Has she really come to the point where she can call a supervillain her best friend?

Marinette takes another look at Damian’s outfit. Master Fu said that the Miraculous Hawkmoth owns is in the shape of a brooch. Marinette sees no such object on Damian, which could either mean that he’s not Hawkmoth or that he’s just been taking it off whenever he’s with her. She’s really hoping it’s not the second option.

She needs to gather her thoughts, make a plan on how to proceed. When she’s sure that Damian isn’t looking, Marinette sets off the ringtone that is saved for her Maman’s texts and calls. This catches Damian’s attention, and she waves looks up from her phone as though she’s responding. 

“Maman wants me to do a delivery. If you’re looking for more information on the whole superhero situation in Paris, I can get you Alya’s number. She runs the Ladyblog-- I’m sure she’d be glad to talk with you.” Alya also has some of the worst conspiracy theories that Marinette has ever seen. She doesn’t often keep abreast of what the Ladyblog’s portrayal of Ladybug is, but back when Marinette and Alya were friends, she was subjected to wild theories that made her stomach nauseous with how little logic there was. Which means that if-- if-- Damian is actually Hawkmoth, he might be thrown off by what she says.

“I’ll see you on Monday? Jagged texted me last night and wants me to change the embroidery on his commission.” This isn’t exactly a lie; Jagged wants one of the smaller details to be changed, but it certainly won’t take as long as she’s suggesting. Marinette hopes that it’s enough of an excuse to get Damian off her back for the rest of today and tomorrow while she reevaluates her game plans and life choices. 

Damian waves her off. “I don’t think that Ladyblogger girl knows anymore than I do. She’s of no help to me. I’ll see you on Monday.”

#

Marinette’s reaction to Damian’s questions are weird. There’s an underlying tension that she exuded before they parted ways, and he’s still thinking about it a day later.

Marinette, who he always finds near an akuma attack right after it occurs. Marinette, who is emotionally and physically superior to most other Parisians. Marinette, who hasn’t been akumatized in a class full of idiots and other victims. Marinette, who doesn’t like Ladybug even though she seems like a fairly competent and kind hero, despite the fact that she hasn’t caught Hawkmoth yet. Marinette, who rarely talks about akumas despite all of the time he spends with her, which is highly unusual because even people he only briefly meets manage to slip in something about akumas into the conversation. Damian feels like there must be some sort of connection between Marintte and the akuma situation that he’s not getting, but it’s eluding him.

He sits down with his laptop in his apartment and looks up information about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s definitely just as talented as he suspected; in her ninth year of schooling, she won a Gabriel competition, participated in a music video of Clara Nightingale’s, and collaborated with Jagged Stone on an album cover. So that was how she met him-- he wondered, but never asked. There are also a few instagram posts that have tagged her as a good samaritan and a few articles that detail a small, asian girl who’s going around Paris helping random people that are in need.

The weird things that Damian finds are contained in her school records. She’s apparently in very good company with her IQ, but what’s more interesting is all the dates that she is tardy or absent from school. They line up perfectly with all of the dates that akumas appear. He feels dread gather in his stomach. 

A few more searches seem to cement his growing suspicions. Around the same time that Marinette obtained a truce with Lila matched up with when theorists believed that the Italian girl started working with Hawkmoth. He reads the instagrams and tweets of her classmates from the first year that Hawkmoth arrived, which talk about how excellent Marinette is at calming them down and guiding them to a better place. He also reads the posts of Chloe Bourgeois and Alya Cesaire and the articles about Marinette and Evillustrator that tell a slightly different story-- that Marinette is capable of manipulating others into more unpleasant situations.

Damian jolts. There is an incoming call from his father. 

“Are updates on Paris, Damian?” 

Should he give them a clue to his growing suspicions that Marinette is Hawkmoth? No, he can’t tell them until he gathers more information. 

“No,” he says. “Information about Hawkmoth and the Miraculous are hard to come by.”

There’s a sigh and what sounds like the rustling of papers from the other side. “I figured. Tim and Barbara can’t find anything over here, either, but the Justice League is worried. They want results.”

“The Justice League and I agreed that having Robin make an appearance would be beneficial. Gain Ladybug and Chat Noir’s trust, or find Hawkmoth. Information might come easier with your alter ego.”

“All right.” 

Another pause. He and his father have always had an awkward relationship. Bruce didn’t know of his existence until he was ten, and by that time, the most formative years of Damian’s life had already passed. Bruce Wayne may be many things, but good at dealing with children, he is not. Even after adopting so many children, he doesn’t know how to raise a child. Damian and his brothers have all raised themselves, with Bruce only stepping in when one of them is really going off the rails.

“Is everything else going well in Paris? School is good?”

“School is fine.” Damian wonders whether he should tell his father about Marinette. About the girl who is kind and capable and scarily efficient at dispatching criminals for a citizen and-- he can’t think about her like that. He decides against telling his father about her. She might be Hawkmoth, after all, and confirming her existence to his father means that he’s denying that possibility. “Gotham?”

“Nothing out of the usual. A few run-ins with the Joker.”

Another silence. The lapses in conversation aren’t awkward, but Damian thinks of the playful banter Marinette has with her parents and frowns. 

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian looks around at his empty apartment. There is nothing in it, except for his suitcase and a few pieces of furniture. It’s nothing like the manor, where he knows that Tim is up at all hours slaving away on another project that Damian rarely gets to see, or that Jason is in the training room with Dick joining him occasionally. He can’t pick a fight with Tim or have Dick try to mediate the conflicts between himself and Jason. No nightly patrols with three or four people talking over the comms, or near instantaneous backup when he gets into a tight spot. There is no Alfred or Barbara or Cassandra or Bruce here. Only Damian. 

He looks down at his laptop, at the various information and images of Marinette that he has up on his screen. In good conscience, he can’t continue being friends with her. Not with the possibility that she is the person he’s trying to hunt down. 

He remembers her saying that being lonely is different than being alone. 

Damian is lonely.

#

Patrol is a necessary evil. 

Ladybug doesn’t hate patrol. She’s not very fond of it, though. It cuts into time that she could be spending sleeping or designing or anything else, really. In the beginning, it started as a way to figure out how everything worked under the guise of the dark and without the constant threat of an akuma hanging over head. Then, it progressed into disproving the theory about Ladybug’s age, because civilians aren’t inclined to believe that a teenage girl who has school the next day would patrol every day in the early morning. Now, it shows the Parisians how devoted Ladybug is-- that’s something that she’s struggled with ever since withdrawing the Miraculous from all of the part time heroes-- and lets Marinette blow off any steam that she has. 

Right now, Marinette needs to blow off a lot of steam. Still, even as Ladybug, as much as Marinette wants to scream to high hell and back about how she’s been friends-- very close friends, she’d dare to say-- with the same person who has been terrorizing Paris for years, she can’t. If she screams, there will be media coverage on it, and she doesn’t want to deal with what the press would write up some article about how Ladybug was overworked and needed to bring back the other heroes, or that Ladybug wasn’t mentally sound enough to take care of Paris, she should just give up the Miraculous, or that Ladybug’s scream was [insert some poetic nonsense that English teachers wax about for hours even though the author never intended the audience to read that deeply into it].

Marinette doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s gotten close to Damian. She’s as close to him as she is with Kagami, Luka, Jagged and Penny. Damian knows that she’s MDC. He knows her hopes and aspirations. He knows her family, knows the majority of her friends, and knows what’s important to her. It will be so easy for him to tear her apart now. Marinette isn’t sure what Hawkmoth is waiting for, but she almost hopes that he’ll get it over with sooner rather than later.

What will Hawkmoth do first? Go after the website that he helped her make, probably. Cut off the financial support that she could use to run away and create another identity. Then, he’ll go after her friends, few and far as they may be. Renee next. Her family, last. She wonders who Mayura is, if he is Hawkmoth. She hasn’t seen anyone that’s close to him. Then again, Damian reveals next to nothing about himself. She’s never even seen where he lives.

There’s a shadow on the rooftops. 

God, of course Hawkmoth would send out an akuma today. He knows how horrible her mental state must be. There’s no way he wouldn’t take advantage of that.

She yoyos over to the shadow, not close enough to strike or apprehend, but close enough to easily give chase without the akuma being able to give her the slip.

“Ladybug,” the akuma says.

“Cut the crap. We all know you want the Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Let’s get to it.” The shadow steps forward where a street lamp illuminates its costume, and once again, she is assaulted by the barrage of colors on her eyes. After seeing how awful Damian’s color coordination was, it’s easy to come to terms with the awful designs of all of his costumes. Still, she’s surprised that the boy who dresses in the same outfit every day creates such outlandish costumes for all of his minions. 

The akuma frowns, tenses. 

“I’m not Hawkmoth,” it insists. “I’m Robin, a vigilante from Gotham. I’ve come to learn more about the current situation and aid you in taking Hawkmoth down.”

 Ladybug scoffs. She’s not sure what this akuma’s tactic is, but none of the others have tried to lie to her so blatantly about their identity. And ripping off an identity? That is a new low, even for Hawkmoth. She’s sure that the real Robin didn’t agree to this, and if she were close with the vigilante, maybe she could get him to throw a lawsuit or two at Hawkmoth once he was in custody, just for kicks.

Robin the akuma scrambles, apparently looking for something that can verify his identity. 

Ladybug strikes. There’s no pride in striking an opponent when they are distracted, but it’s a means to an end. If Damian is dumb enough to send out an akuma confused about its identity tonight of all nights-- a night where Ladybug is distressed and it would be all too easy to take advantage of her-- then she’s going to take advantage of it.

It’s easy to bind the akuma. Startlingly easy. The akuma is different tonight, then. His powers have something to do with close contact, maybe? Ladybug looks on his person for things that could be the point of akumatization, eyes flitting from Robin’s waistband to his mask.

She comes to an unpleasant conclusion. The measurements and the coloring are a perfect match. Hawkmoth has come to meet her in person.

“Damian,” Ladybug hisses. 

Damian’s eyes widen, like he doesn’t know how she’s pieced together his identity. How stupid does he think she is? He’s been dropping hints constantly. Information a transfer to Paris shouldn’t know. Never telling Marinette anything personal. Always being near an akuma attack when it happens. It’s almost like he wanted her to figure out his identity.

“How did you know?” 

“Please, Hawkmoth, did you really think that Marinette couldn’t connect the dots? You must have thought awfully little of her if you thought that your constant appearances near all of the akuma and questions about the Miraculous didn’t lead me to your identity.”

“Hawkmoth? Ladybug, I’m not Hawkmoth, I’m Robin.”

“And I’m the queen of England. Renounce your Miraculous now, Hawkmoth. Or I’ll beat you until you detransform and take it from you.” 

Damian looks confused before his face contorts to an expression of resignation. He recognizes a cold fury in her eyes that is distinct to people who won’t give up until they get their way, and there’s really no other way around this right now. He should have brought his comm with him, but he wasn’t expecting to meet Ladybug tonight; he just wanted to assess the situation as Robin, to get out from his apartment for a second. Rookie mistake. 

True to her word, Ladybug beats Damian unconscious and also until he’s black and blue. She’ll be lying if she didn’t say she took out some of her fury from the past years on him.

But here’s the thing; Damian doesn’t detransform. He stays in his god-awful costume that has the same disgusting shade of mustard yellow as that one top Damian owns. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. When Miraculous users faint, they detransform because it takes a sort of mental awareness to handle the powers bestowed upon them. Is it different because Damian is an akuma? Is there some sort of Miraculous bylaw that if a Miraculous user gets akumatized, they get to stay in their alternate form? Oh wait, that’s right, he’s an akuma, not Hawkmoth right now.

Ladybug stumbles forward, breaking all of the weapons that are on his belt, taking off his mask and breaking that as well. No akuma comes out. She tries his gloves, then his boots. She pats him down, seeing if there’s anything she missed. She rips his suit, too. Nothing. There’s no brooch in his personal effects either.

What is she supposed to do now? 

Seeing no alternative, Ladybug picks Damian up and yoyos back to Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie to safely detransform and figure out what the fuck is going on.

He’s not Hawkmoth, is the conclusion Marinette comes to after a side by side comparison of pictures of the vigilante and Damian. The horrifying conclusion: the person lying on the floor of her bedroom is actually Robin, the vigilante from Gotham. 

Marinette knows it’s better to err on the side of caution, but she still buries her head in her hands in embarrassment. How can she have gotten him so wrong? She really needs to get better at reading people, because deciding that random civilians are Hawkmoth clearly has not paid off. 

She also cannot believe that the Justice League has decided to step in now, and with a sidekick from America, of all things--Marinette is pretty sure that she sent the videos to the European branch. It must have been three years since her first notification to them. She contacted them immediately after Stoneheart, and again, after Syren when she was distraught at the death that surrounded her. With no response, there was nothing she could do. She has to start relying on herself and her own skills. 

Ladybug only contacted them once more, after Heroes’ Day. At that point, Ladybug had been thinking for a while that someone who was naturally superpowered or someone with a high grade of intelligence-- like the heroes affiliated with the Justice League-- would do more harm than good if they were allowed in the city. After the devastation of her teammates being akumatized, and the nearly week long battle that ensued, she was certain that she could barely fight her teammates, let alone trained professionals. So with shaky hands and red rimmed eyes, she said to please disregard her earlier messages; the situation in Paris wasn’t that bad, and Ladybug could handle it. 

Damian groans. Marinette jumps; he is waking up far earlier than she anticipated. She wants to transform back into Ladybug. Being in her spots gives her a pseudo sense of security. First, though, she has to restrain him. Even though he isn’t Hawkmoth, she’s not sure whether he’s a threat or not. She makes quick work of it, using the thickest zip ties that she has on hand and restraining his arms and legs.

She doesn’t get the chance to transform back into Ladybug, but that’s just as well, because at the end of the day, Marinette is the foundation of anything that makes Ladybug a hero to the public. Damian opens his eyes almost immediately after she has finished restraining him, taking in his surroundings and the person in front of him.

“Marinette? Where’s Ladybug?” No questions of how he got there; Ladybug can clearly carry her own weight and more. No questions as to why there are zip ties cutting into his wrists and ankles; he has seen too many of Marinette’s victims on the streets.

“What do you mean, where’s Ladybug?” Marinette is right in front of him. She might not have the suit on, but at the end of the day, she does have the Ladybug Miraculous, which means she’s Ladybug through and through, and Damian must know that. Otherwise, there’s no real reason for Robin to be spending so much time with Marinette. The fact that she feels more real and true to herself as Marinette than as Ladybug probably means nothing to him.

“She knocked me out on a rooftop. Didn’t know that you two knew each other personally. I’m not Hawkmoth, by the way.” He twitches, then realizes that he’s been tied up. “Why’d she leave me with you?”

So he doesn’t know that she’s also Ladybug? This whole thing keeps getting more confusing. Still, the less people that know about her alter ego, the better. Marinette will keep him in the dark. She attributes his blatant misunderstanding to the identity concealment magic of the Miraculous. It’s powerful stuff. If it didn’t exist, she’s sure she would have found concrete evidence as to who Hawkmoth is by now. 

“She asked me to assess whether you were a threat or not. Whether or not she casts the Miraculous Cure is contingent on my response.”

“Ladybug wants you to assess whether I’m a threat or not? Why’d she leave a possible super villain with a civilian?”

“I help Ladybug out with many things.” Her voice turns to clinical detachment. She uses this method to dissociate as Ladybug when things get overwhelming. Assess the situation. Get in, deakumatize, get out. Marinette needs to distance herself. It’s bad enough that the situation is this convoluted, but she doesn’t need Damian to doubt Ladybug’s capabilities as well. “Ladybug knows that you’re not Hawkmoth now, and she knows that I can handle myself with any run of the mill bad guy, even if they are a supposed vigilante.”

“Tell me, Robin,” Marinette spits the name like a curse, “Why should I tell Ladybug that you’re not a threat? That you are who you say you are?”

In all honesty, all Marinette wants to do is knock Damian out again so she can collect her thoughts. She’s not sure how she should address his presence as Robin in Paris and is still reeling from the whiplash of thinking he was Hawkmoth only for him to turn into a foreign vigilante. Next thing she knows, he’ll tell her that his name isn’t even Damian Grayson. Well, now that she thinks about it, he’s definitely not. After this encounter finishes, she’ll look up Damian and Gotham and see what she gets.

He looks flustered, like he never expected anybody to question his identity or presence. It’s laughable, really. Marinette doubts that the Justice League actually sent him; he’s probably here to explore on his own. That means he’ll only be a pain in the ass to deal with. Maybe she needs to get into contact with the Justice League again, if only just so she can deport Robin with more ease. 

“I can call Batman,” he says.

Marinette doesn’t think this is a very good solution. There’s no way for her to prove that the person on the other side actually is Batman and not some actor. But after racking her brain, she can’t come up with a much better solution. It’s not like Robin has any superpowers that she can request to see, and she doesn’t have a direct line to anybody from the Justice League.

“Fine. Call Batman.”

“It’s in the pocket near on my right side.” Marinette doesn’t bother going closer to him. She destroyed everything on him earlier, in case it was the akuma’s vessel. Ladybug thought she came across a phone, but now she’s glad she smashed it and left it on that random rooftop. He probably has some sort of tracker on his phone. In any case, Marinette thinks it’s weird for a vigilante to have a phone on them while on the rooftops. Shouldn’t he have an earpiece or something? 

“Your phone was destroyed by Ladybug. Tell me the number to call. I’ll put it on speaker.” Marinette isn’t sure if the number he’ll have her call will be some sort of secure connection or direct line that is only accessible through Damian’s phone, but she doesn’t particularly care because the Miraculous Communicators are exactly that. Miraculous. Master Fu assured her that all communications were private and impossible to crack unless they also had a Miraculous. Which is why she’s using the Miraculous Communicator to call Batman.

Damian winces, then speaks into the offered phone. 

“Batman, it’s Robin. I need to verify my identity in order to proceed.”

“Are you with Ladybug?”

So he is on a mission, then, and not just playing hooky. If Batman is involved, Marinette has no doubt the rest of the Justice League will follow soon. This will be a dreadfully unpleasant call.

“I’m making it a video call,” Marinette says. “And no, he’s not with Ladybug. I’m Ladybug’s point of contact, and she doesn’t take kindly to people encroaching on her territory without permission.”

“Robin, what happened?” Batman isn’t accepting her video request.

Marinette cuts off whatever Damian is about to say. “Damian was suspicious; I reported his activities to Ladybug and she believed that he could be Hawkmoth. Then, she caught him on the roofs and took him back to my place after verifying that he wasn’t Hawkmoth. Video call, Batman. I’d like to see that you are who you say you are, before I send Robin back to the states.”

“She knows your civilian identity? Two people know that you’re Robin?”

“Turn your video on. If you can’t prove that you are who Damian says you are, Ladybug and I will do everything in our powers to deport him and make sure that the Justice League is not allowed in Paris again. Ladybug said that she doesn’t need any unknowns in her city, and I’ve been hoping Robin came here of his own volition. It sounds like that isn’t the case.”

Marinette thinks that Batman curses in English, but she’s not sure. Fluent though Marinette may be, she is not well versed in curses, colloquialisms, or American memes. The camera turns on. It’s Batman, or at the very least, an actor wearing a very good knock off costume.

It’s annoying that Marinette can’t see his eyes. There’s some white film where his eyes should be, and the fact that his cowl covers more than half of his face isn’t doing her any favors in letting her read his facial expression. She moves herself so that Batman can see both her and Robin.

“Why is Robin restrained?”

“Like I said: he was suspicious. I’m not taking any chances.”

A moment of silence.

“How do you want me to prove my identity?” 

That’s good. He’s not asking who she is, though she’s sure that there are cameras pointing at the screen on Batman’s end, running facial analysis and background checks on her. The Miraculous magic will ensure that any connections between her and Ladybug will not come to light. Other than her identity as Ladybug, Marinette has nothing to hide.

“If you’re Batman, then you should have access to the League’s calls, European and otherwise. Play me the last video that Ladybug sent you. I know what she said.” She spares a glance at Damian. His jaw is tight, but when he looks at her, she finds what looks like regret. It’s not entirely Damian’s fault. A mission is a responsibility, and Marinette understands that in order to be a hero or vigilante, one must be willing to do anything to accomplish the mission. Really, she’s only Ladybug because she feels that heavy weight of the words duty and responsibility on her shoulders. Fu’s fault.

“Behave. If you try something, I’ll knock you out.” Marinette sets the communicator on her desk and eyes him. The zipties are so tight around his arms and legs that he is bleeding. Marinette feels a flash of sympathy, then pushes it away. It was his fault for-- why was he at fault, again? 

“I have the video.” Batman sounds even peakier than when they started the call. He plays the video.

“Justice League. This is Ladybug. I rescind my requests for help; I can take care of Paris with my own team. Any help from you at this point would be a detriment and could potentially harm the citizens of Paris. Hawkmoth manipulates strong emotions, and I don’t need to handle a metahuman or tactical genius to gain more power to wreak havoc on my city. I will not contact you with any further requests for assistance.”

It’s an awful video. Marinette had to wait a day after the Heroes’ week fiasco just so her eyes wouldn’t be red. At least her voice doesn’t waver in it. There’s a conviction in the whole video that was unique to that moment. 

Marinette looks at Batman, then at Robin. 

“Clearly the Justice League refused to listen. Ladybug doesn’t want or need your help at this point in time. Why are you here?”

“The Justice League is at fault for not paying attention to Ladybug’s other videos. But Mayor Bourgeois and President Macron can only cover such alarming incidents for so long. Ladybug and her… team clearly need help in order to find and take down Hawkmoth, so once the American branch of the Justice League found out half a year ago, we started to investigate.” Batman speaks in lieu of Damian. Marinette briefly wonders if Damian knows who Batman is under the mask. She bets he does. They’re probably close, what with how worried Batman sounds. 

“What makes you think that the Justice League is any better equipped to handle this situation? Ladybug and her team have been fighting for the past three years and resolved every akuma with no help from you. She needed your help in earlier years. Now she doesn’t.”

“Exactly; it’s been three years and she still hasn’t caught Hawkmoth.”

“You say that like the Justice League doesn’t have a team with more wealth and manpower than Ladybug does that’s been looking into Hawkmoth and the Miraculous for the past half year and clearly has not found any reasonable leads. Ladybug has only been actively looking for Hawkmoth for the past two years, not three. The police handled the first year, not that you’ve done any homework on the situation. Thought that a field agent would help your chances?” 

There is fire in Marinette’s stomach. Batman sounds so dismissive of all of the work that she’s been doing. It’s been hard on her; she doesn’t have the support that she needs and doesn’t have the experience or expertise to hunt down Hawkmoth on her own. She trained briefly under Master Fu to learn spells and ways to expand her powers as Ladybug, but that was an equivalent exchange: she no longer trusts that other holders won’t be akumatized. Her growing cynicism and physical training from Maman came at the expense of Chat Noir; after the whole Lila incident in her first year as Ladybug, she found out that Chat Noir and Adrien were one and the same. And Gabriel Agreste is not afraid to use his son until Adrien is stretched far too thin, which forced Marinette to nearly bench her partner.

“Three years,” Batman says again.

“If the Justice League can’t figure it out nearly unlimited resources and funding in half a year-- both ordinary and super human-- then clearly it isn’t a question of time. It’s a question of capability. Get off your high horse, Batman. You haven’t given me any reasons why Ladybug and I shouldn’t deport Robin here, and you’re definitely not making a good case as to why she shouldn’t go to Mayor Bourgeois and France’s president to ensure that the Justice League and its affiliates and ban hero travel into Paris. Bourgeois already doesn’t want information on it’s supervillain situation to get out.” 

“Marinette,” Damian pleads.

As Robin and as Damian, he doesn’t pose a threat. He hasn’t been helpful, but he certainly hasn’t messed with the status quo for the month that he’s been here. Still, he is a liability. If he stays in Paris, he is the gateway for the other members of the Justice League to fly in and try to commandeer the fragile balance that she has found. She can’t afford for something like that to happen.  

“You’re not any better, Robin. Why did you even hang around me? Thought I was a threat?” Her eyes narrow in realization. It makes sense why he decided to hang out with her, despite his initial cold front. He was playing a role.“You thought I was Hawkmoth.”

His silence is an agreement.

“We just want to help,” Damian says, and against her better judgement, Marinette believes him. 

Her shoulders round, and Marinette sighs. She can’t truly begrudge Damian for that train of thought, not when she believed the same about him. She’s been a little harsh on them so far, in part due to old resentment that they never responded to her in that first, awful year when she needed the help. 

There’s a dull tiredness that comes with knowing someone who she considered one of her closest friends suspected her of being a supervillain, though she did believe the same of him, so maybe they’re even. It still hurts, though. It hurts like when Alya decided that Marinette was mean-hearted enough to stop the members of their class from reaching their full potential. It hurts like when Marinette finally realized that she couldn’t repair their friendship, not to what it used to be. It hurts like when she looked around the classroom and realized that she couldn’t talk to anyone there. It hurts like when Marinette decided that she couldn’t risk helping her friends the way she wanted to. 

“What kind of help can you offer us? We don’t need any more of you to come out here.” Resources are nice. More money to fund therapy programs around town won’t hurt. Master Fu doesn’t help on that part. Really, he doesn’t help at all. Even though she has Chat Noir and had a team, she often feels like it’s herself against the world. Some days, she reaches up to her earrings and feels an aching emptiness, like there’s something more to the Miraculous that’s been sealed away.

“We can give you resources. Money, connections, experience. Robin is good with technology. He can help you track down where Hawkmoth is.”

Marinette’s laugh is bitter. “Sure, he can try, but the butterflies Hawkmoth sends out aren’t visible by the normal human eye or electronically until they’ve found their mark. Once they’re purified, they’re just normal butterflies, and they go off in random directions.”

“Normal human eye? It sounds like there are exceptions.” Damian readjusts himself. He has fidgeted his way into an uncomfortable looking seiza position, where his ankles are bleeding. 

“A true holder can see the butterflies at all times.”

Marinette also decides to throw them a bone so there’s no questions as to why a mere civilian is working with Ladybug. “That’s why Ladybug recruited me. I was Multimouse.”

Multimouse was in the file that Damian sent his father, but he asks, just to make sure. “The one that can split itself?”

“That’s correct. I guess now is as good a time as any for the two of you to get your questions answered.”

“Why are you the point of civilian contact instead of any of the other more frequently used heroes? Didn’t you appear only once?” Damian avoids looking Marinette in the eyes, and that makes her feel slightly better. He’s ashamed of his actions. Good. 

“Ladybug said that the other hero’s civilian forms were either compromised or not in a good position.”

“Ladybug knows who all the holders are.” Batman speculates. He looks less tense now that Damian is no longer tied up, but his voice remains gravelly and distrubed. Maybe that’s what he sounds like all the time.  “Who else knows? Do you?” 

“Only Ladybug knows.” Marinette lives in half truths. She’s not sure that they’re much better than lies, but they’re all she has. Secrecy is the only thing Master Fu has sincerely taught her.

“Why have all the other heroes disappeared?” 

“Ladybug said that it was too dangerous for someone who could be akumatized to hold a Miraculous. Rena Rage, Shell Shock, Queen Wasp-- they were all frighteningly powerful akumas. It’s also why Chat Noir has been showing up less and less; his home life is not the best, and she’s trying her best to ensure that he doesn’t get akumatized.”

“She’s not worried for herself or,” Damian’s eyes flick to Marinette, away from Batman. “For you?” 

“She knows that both of us are good at dealing with stress. We have our own methods of coping.” She looks at Damian, her mouth tightening into a frown. “If you want to stay in Paris, I’ll cut you a deal. We can work together for two weeks, and if we don’t get any results, you have to leave and the Justice League must promise that they won’t interfere again.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time,” Damian objects.

“If you don’t think it’s enough time, just leave now. I’ll say now that I’m only willing to work with you during the night. That’s the time I work on Miraculous related stuff now, anyways. And stay out of the akuma battles.” She doesn’t actually think that working together will help anyways, and she wants Damian gone sooner rather than later. He’s been making her feel too much and emotions that are far more explosive and easy to take advantage of than Marinette has in a long time. She doesn’t want to be targeted by an akuma because of her inner conflict. 

“Two weeks, then,” Batman agrees. “Robin can contact me if you need any extra resources.”

Marinette hangs up and assesses Damian. He looks almost pitiful, with bruising around his eyes, tousled hair, a ripped suit, and cuts where his skin is exposed. She opens her trap door in a clear gesture for him to depart. Downstairs is dark; her Maman and Papa have long since gone to sleep, and it’s only a few more hours until they wake up to start baking. “We start tomorrow. If you need Ladybug for anything, tell me.”

He’s half way down the ladder when he looks back up at Marinette, into her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Marinette can’t breath. She feels like vomiting. His eyes are so green in comparison to the purple bruising on his face. She did that to him. She made him look that way. All she’s ever wanted to do as Ladybug is protect the people she cared for. But Damian-- Marinette doesn’t know. She doesn't know whether what Damian has done can actually be described as bad. He was just trying to do what Batman told him to do. Keeping an eye on a threat. Marinette wonders how long he thought she was Hawkmoth. She wonders if he ever thought they were friends. 

“I’m sorry too,” Marinette says, and shuts the trap door.

They’re both sorry for very different things.

#miraculous ladybug #dcu #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #batfam #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayso #barbara gordon #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

TW: Ouija Board Use, Disturbing Topics, Ghost Mentions, Possession Mention, Talks about the Sixth Sense, Blood Mention, Suicide Mention

**Don’t read this if you’re easily scared**

There’s this thing that I just can’t get out of my head.

I figured that if I shared it maybe the nagging thought would leave me alone, so I’m writing this here to account it with that hope.

Last night I was watching a horror movie with my sister and her girlfriend and it just reminded me of someone that I knew back when I first started Uni.

But first full disclaimer here, I was never really close to this person, we had just met in my English class because we sat next to each other and had a couple of group work assignments together, but that was it. I’ll only talk about my experiences while I was with this girl, we’ll call her B for the sake of this recounting. And yes, this actually happened, but as you should with anything you read off of the internet, take it with a grain of salt because even I don’t know if I’m recounting everything perfectly, it happened a couple of years ago now and I’m trying to remember them as I write this.

I’m a very superstitious person, also. I totally buy into that bad luck stuff about ladders and mirrors, but my belief stems from I simply don’t want to try it if it ends up being true. That and from my Filipino descent I have many relatives who are superstitious also, not to mention the sixth sense runs in both sides of my family and is floating around somewhere in my generation so I don’t want to suddenly awaken that shit, no way (I’ll include a bit explaining that at the end of this post if you’re curious). Hell, I’m so superstitious that I won’t watch certain movies that deal with summoning entities just in case, or at least, I won’t watch them at home. But onto the story.

Anyway, the movie we were watching mentioned a Ouija board once or twice, which is what reminded me of my classmate, and it just sent chills down my spine and I’m still thinking about this even now because, my god, I am certain that she was possessed by something.

If you don’t know what a Ouija board it, let me crash course you. Essentially it is a tool to communicate with otherworldly creatures. Its a board with letters, numbers, and a yes/no option, and you hold on to the planchet (which is a huge triangle with a magnifying glass in the middle) and theoretically the spirit you contact will move it around to respond to your inquiries. However, this is not always the case, the board serves as a portal, and it is very rare that the entity you are trying to contact is actually the one interacting with you, and such it is considered a profane object. Once you bring it into your home alone you open your home to immense amounts of negative energy and it is now somewhat of an area of thin protection in which otherworldly entities can walk in and out of.

Basically, don’t fuck with them.

Now B is a huge occult fan, she loves the stuff, has read books on it and everything but, go figure, she’s a religious studies major and she wanted to specify in more occult practices, and with that you’d think she’d know never to dabble in those things, but I think her choice of major stemmed from a different kind of fascination in it. I think her thing was that she wanted to see if this occult stuff was real, I think she was a true skeptic and she just got a kick out of playing dangerous games and inviting dangerous creatures. I remember being appalled when she recounted her experience playing the dangerous game known as the [Midnight Game], which still gives me nightmares to this day. Either way, it would be an understatement for me to say that I wasn’t worried about her.

One day around week 8 of the quarter, meaning we were finishing up the quarter and starting to study for finals, while we were working together in class, she brought up to me and the other two group members (C and D for simplicity and anonymity) that she recently purchased a ouija board. And I immediately voiced my concern. 

“You’ve already fucked with spirits before in the Midnight Game and [Dry Bones], are you trying to piss them off even more?” I was genuinely worried about her.

“Come on, Crys, they’re not real.” She insisted that towards me, but me and C made eye contact, both of us being Filipino and highly superstitious, we warned her again to give it back to where she got it from but she refused.

“What are you going to talk to anyway, B?” D asks her.

“Dunno, maybe I’ll talk to my granddad.”

“Or you could open your apartment to a poltergeist who will possess you and kill you slowly,” I said with a half joking tone, or at least that’s how I intended it to be.

“If you’re going to be so uptight about it then ignore me, Crys. It’s just a game,” she scoffs.

“Sure, yeah, I just think it’s smarter not to try anything. You’re already walking around with a target on your back because of the other games you’ve played, I’m just worried that something bad will happen to you this time. They come in threes, B,” I continued on. I didn’t know if it was fear for her or for me.

Needless to say she didn’t show up the next class. Me, C, and D just brushed this off as maybe she decided to skip class, which she had done many times before, and didn’t think much more of it. Of course I was still worried, I had a feeling that it had something to do with the board, but she looked really pissed when I brought it up to her so I didn’t want to overstep more than I already did.

But when she didn’t show up for the next week’s worth of classes, that’s when we really got concerned. We asked my professor about it just in case she just dropped the class and didn’t tell us, but no, she was still on the roster. So we decided to pay her a visit and make sure everything was alright.

Now we knew where she lived, it was an off campus apartment a couple of blocks away from school so it was an easy walk, and we had been there a handful of times already for group work. It was a relatively new apartment she had moved into before school started and, to our knowledge, she hadn’t tried anything there yet up until the board. But when I stood outside of her door, something just felt off. The air felt still, and something just wasn’t right. I knocked on the door and nothing. No shuffling, no movement, we thought she wasn’t home. But right when we turned to leave, the door opened.

Now B looked horrible. Her cheeks were sunken in and the bags under her eyes were more than just concerning.

“Hey, are you okay?” D asks her.

“I just have the flu,” B responds. Her voice was hoarse.

Now here is where I am conflicted. As you all know, I’m a premed student, and as you now know I am superstitious to a fault. My rational side says “ah, I get it now” but my superstitious one told me to call a priest. Like yes, the flu can do this to you, but it’s been a week. 

Either way we’re backing away from the door. She opens it wider, as if to let us in, and when I tell you the apartment looked unrecognizable, I mean it. It looked nearly unlivable actually. I swear there was probably something alive hiding under the piles of pizza boxes and clothes. And this really concerned us because we knew B to be a very clean person, she always was throughout the quarter and would even reprimand C for being so messy himself, so the change was very jarring for us.

“You can come in if you want,” she says. “I haven’t been upholding my end of the group project.”

“No, it’s fine,” I declined for the group.

“I insist.”

“You have the flu, we could catch it.”

“You won’t, I know you’re all careful,” she says. Keep in mind, C and I are premed and D is accounting.

“We just wanted to check in on you,” D steps in now, seeing that I’m uncomfortable.

“Then why did you come all the way here and bother me?” She snapped. We were taken aback and she just shook her head. “Forget it, I’ll be fine by the presentation date. Just email me what I have to do.” Then she closed the door and was gone.

She never came back to class, and I learned later from another person in our class, who I’m assuming she was close with, that she dropped out of uni altogether. She never really told us either, so we had to rush to finish her part of the project, which was horrific, but that’s besides the point.

It’s just... this superstitious nature of mine typically gets in the way of a lot of things I choose to do. It’s always the first thing I put into consideration. And it’s a bit strange considering how... bad of a Catholic I am. Either way it’s just terrifying. Maybe I’m just more hyper aware of it because of how “close” I am to otherworldly things. I have cousins who’ve played games like [The Hosting Game] or [Lady Spades]. So I can sometimes feel things when they’re not right, then of course there’s the whole sixth sense running in both sides of my family thing so there’s that too. I don’t know, the whole thing just rubbed me wrong and still does to this day. I guess I’m more afraid of these negative energies reflecting back on me somehow, who knows?

I don’t know, maybe this was just me vastly overthinking things, maybe I’m just being paranoid, but something just didn’t sit right with me with that last exchange we had, who knows? The movie I watched last night just reminded me of her so much and I started getting worried again, I just hope she’s alright.

~

As for the promised bit about the sixth sense running in my family, here’s an abridged version from what I’ve learned:

On my mother’s side, it skips generations (therefore it is in my generation). The most notable one with this sense currently is my Uncle, who can see the auras of spirits (white for passive ones, red for aggressive ones, etc.) he’s helped other family members and extended members for many things involving these. There’s a certain term for him, actually, in the Philippines that is. He’s definitely not a shaman, no way, but the term escapes me for now. But it stemmed far back in our family’s lineage when we did have shamans and albularyos (witch doctors), if you looked up my mother’s maiden name in the Philippines you’ll even find an extensive history behind them (Obviously I won’t share that, but they were a very prominent Clan throughout the Philippines and still are in some islands). They have a history of communicating with enkantos (which are environmental spirits), the strongest one in our family to date being my great-great grandfather. I also have a cousin who sees spirits as they died, like if they happened to jump off of a tall building (and I’ll spare you the details because the aftermath is bloody) he will see them like that, it was so bad that he even went to the best therapists in the UK to treat it, but something like that isn’t exactly... treatable. So there’s that. 

On my father’s side it’s a bit more muddled. We don’t understand the pattern it’s in, we just know that some people have it and most don’t. And if anything, it’s more of a curse. In every generation there has been someone who’s literally gotten possessed (one of my aunt’s did in the Philippines, she got possessed by a duwende I think? I’ll have to ask again). Haven’t had a possession yet in my generation (and no that’s not an invitation), but we’ve had hauntings many a time that my previously mentioned uncle helped us out with. There’s also a spirit who appears to every male who carries the name, and apparently when she is seen said male should not travel anywhere, some cases being my grandfather’s usual transit bus which drove off a cliff, my dad’s brother’s motorcycle combusting, etc. Whatever is going on in my dad’s side likely got passed down to me so I’m being extra careful.

TL;DR: I’m very superstitious because of the shit that has happened on both sides of my family and that probably fed into my fear for B.

Anyway, if you guys want scary stories, trust me, I’ve got scary stories.

#crys talks #personal

[marculees]

Epilepsy Awareness Month💜

I recently seen this post by @interstellix  who made great points about epilepsy for Epilepsy Awareness Month. It sums it up really well so I suggest you give it a read and reblog! Its nice to find another photosensitive here too because we’re such a small group within the epilepsy community. I deal with anxiety on top of my epilepsy and while they aren’t always related to each other, I don’t hear enough about the day-to-day worries of epileptics. Things that seem completely normal or fine to some people can be dangerous for me, which is why stuff like giving trigger warnings are much appreciated. But often, non-epileptics don’t know about what its like to actually live with epilepsy - not just having seizures. I want to add on some of my own experiences with a funky clickbait title, below the cut. Anyone who reads this all is a star and ily⭐️

10 Things Non-Epileptics Don’t Get (Yet)

1. That moment in movies when the character wakes up and a bunch of faces are gawking down at the camera uncomfortably. Always have someone to stay with the person having a seizure. But out of care for both that person and the people around, its best to get everyone else away. No one enjoys watching someone have a seizure - it’s scary and knowing you can’t stop it can ignite feelings of guilt or panic. For the person having the seizure, its embarrassing - they aren’t even conscious of what’s happening and for all they can remember, they were minding their own business and now they’re waking up and barely able to move their body without wincing in pain.

*TW: BODY FLUIDS* I’ve literally puked, shit and pissed myself all at the same time unconsciously in front of a room of people. I’m lucky these people were my family but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing or upsetting knowing that everyone there saw me in such a state. A fear I had growing up was having a seizure in front of my class and the students making comments about it, thinking it was funny. In today’s age, filming seizures is something to worry about too because of how easily it can be shared to others online. Even if you aren’t an arsehole like that, try to be as respectful as possible and get everyone else to evacuate the room. At most, have three people to stay there: one person to stay close and time the seizure, one person to move furniture away and find something soft to lay under the epileptic’s head, and one person for crowd control who is keeping everyone else out and reassuring them all it’s okay.

Whatever you do, don’t make the epileptic feel bad for having a seizure. They can’t control it. Afterwards, comfort them and let them know its all over and you’ll stay with them until they feel better (unless they say they would rather be alone). Most of the time, the epileptic will be so tired and sore after their seizure that they’ll fall asleep. Let them; they need it. I’ve woken up on a couch, in my bed, the back of an ambulance or in a hospital bed and sometimes I was laying there for half an hour, sometimes a whole day. Knowing someone was there is relieving. Knowing everyone was there is shaming and it doesn’t make you feel any better when they’re all in your face afterwards too. Don’t be the camera crew.

2. Travelling alone is either a dream or everyday reality for a lot of people, but its a no-go for some of us. I was raised in a very overprotective household and still today, I don’t have a lot of freedom. Driving is usually one of the first bits of independence you get, but not for me. I’ve had seizures while out travelling because of the SUN. The sunlight flickering through trees, railings or bouncing off surfaces have triggered seizures in me where my family have had to pull over. The thought of being the one driving in such a scenario is terrifying to me, my loved ones and everyone else on the road. Driving is such a normalised thing for people my age that I’m embarrassed to bring up my own case unless someone specifically asks.

Then you have public transport. The sunlight issue is also here but this time, you’re with a bunch of strangers (see Point 1 again). Something my mum drilled into my head since I was younger was that if I ever got public transport by myself, then I could have a seizure and someone would film it and another person would rob me (and then you wonder why I have an anxiety disorder). I got my first bus by myself when I was 19 and for something so mundane to most people, it was like a little adventure to me. My mum didn’t approve but she complained about having to drive me everywhere too. While its fun to get the bus into town every now and then though, it becomes a bigger issue when travelling is a daily requirement and you aren’t able/allowed to drive yourself.

Free public transport doesn’t always include those with epilepsy, depending on which country you live in. What do you do when an employer asks if you can drive? What do you do if you have committments to go to and no one is around to drive or come with you? Or you need to explain why you’re going out, every single time, because someone else has to decide whether its worth the risk. Sunny roadtrips? Want to be a pilot? That last one isn’t a joke, by the way! I used to get a coach/private bus to college and if it was sunny, I’d pull the curtain over, wear my sunglasses and try to nonchalantly cover one eye to help. You can’t really get a curtain while driving your own car though and driving one-handed is not cool, its irresponsible.

3. Staying up all night talking with someone you love isn’t as romantic as we’d like it to be. All-nighters, i.e. lack of sleep, are a huge trigger for many epileptics. I wasn’t allowed to go to sleepovers with friends as a kid until I was 13, and at that sleepover I ended up having a seizure in the middle of the night after waking up to use the bathroom. Not to flex, but I had a seizure on the toilet. Where’s the weirdest place anyone else has had a seizure?. As a result of that, I was put back on medication after being told I was growing out of my seizures and had been med-free for one whole year. I’d love to stay up with a loved one and spend the night talking or watching movies, but I think a seizure would be more of a killjoy than going to bed early.

3. Unless you’re the paparazzi, camera flashes won’t give photosensitive epileptics seizures. Its a small gesture and I do appreciate it, but don’t worry - one small flash from a camera will not send my brain into override. Just don’t be taking photos from 5 different phones at the same time for more than one pic. Standing and waiting for people to take a photo all at the same time is awkward already because you don’t know who to look at, what to do with your hands, if you should change pose, smile or not, etc. Just take one flash photo and be done, or don’t use the flash at all if you don’t need to. Ring lights are a common thing now, by the way and I love them? Bye-bye camera flash!

I don’t blame anyone for having these types of concerns though. The only time you’re probably warned about flashing lights is when you’re about to watch a news report or awards show where there will be paparazzi and performances will be aired. Concerts are another thing that can be risky depending on the genre, size of the venue, whether its indoors or outdoors (if you’re like me and enjoy EDM music, you’ll have a very low chance of actually attending or watching anything live fdkslbjfdhb). Those things we avoid. But you taking a photo with a once-off flash will be okay, don’t worry. Seizures aren’t triggered by a single flash, but rather multiple flashes in a short period of time. They’re called Hertz and that shit hertz when its between 3-30 flashes per second. Also, fuck strobes, the Incredibles 2, Into The Spiderverse and any other movie that uses these for unnecessary effect.

4. Not everyone is diagnosed with epilepsy in their childhood and though some might grow out of it as they get older, not everyone will. I thought I had been growing out of it on two occasions (see point 3 again and point 9). Some people only get diagnosed with epilepsy later into their life. If you’re diagnosed while young, its easier to adjust your life because you’re growing up with it as your norm and its something you’ve just learned to live with. But for some people, they suddenly have to change their entire routine that they’ve established since they became an adult. Be sympathetic to those with epilepsy in their adult years, especially those who only got a diagnosis. Its not just a disability for children.

5. There are different types of seizures and one that’s commonly misunderstood is the partial seizure. These types of seizures have been mistaken for people being drunk or high (i.e. slurred speech, difficulty standing up or walking in a straight line, etc.), which has led them to getting kicked out of venues for something they have no control over. Swimming pools seem to be a common place for these bans, as well as gyms. Sometimes, these people are still somewhat aware they are having a seizure but cannot control them, which is really scary to think about. I don’t have them myself but I cannot imagine how frustrating they must be to not be taken seriously and instead as someone being high or intoxicated and then being punished for that. Alcohol is usually avoided as it can trigger seizures but when these seizures happen at social events, people can get the wrong idea. If you know someone who has these types of seizures, keep an eye on them if you’re out together. We’re usually only allowed one pint and hardly anyone gets that drunk after just one, so be aware that its likely they aren’t actually hammered but having a seizure instead.

6. Nobody likes being overworked but school, college, jobs and sport can very hard on us. Unless you’ve had a seizure, your teacher or boss probably won’t extend a deadline for you. The latter might even fire you. Chronic fatigue isn’t taken seriously. School is one big memory test in most countries, but for those with aura seizures, their ‘spacing out’ can affect how information they are actually taking in. Side-effects of meds can also make concentration and memory tough, and I hate how forgetful I can be because then I feel like I’m unreliable even though I push myself to give 110% anyway. Some activities like sports and physical education can be more draining than they would be for the average person, and sometimes I’d have to sit out during these activities because I felt an aura coming on after overexerting myself. I wish I could sit out having multiple assignments and group projects due in the same week, but college doesn’t work that way. I wish I could tell employers that I might not have that presentation done by the end of the day, but that wouldn’t go down too good either.

If you know someone who takes longer to complete tasks that might seem simple to you, ask yourself if you’ve ever considered they might have epilepsy or another chronic illness or disability. Don’t assume they’re lazy if they need to take an extra day or two to complete their final essay or have to stop their beep test earlier than the rest of the class. I didn’t know a good average for the beep test was 8-9, because no one ever told me. I pushed myself to 16 because I was scared people would think I was lazy and that I was dropping out to be with the other girls who agreed beforehand. I then ended up having an aura that almost slipped into a full seizure. I also almost had a seizure an hour before my religion exam in my Junior Cert at school. My mum even insisted I stay home and miss my State exam because of it. I still went though, took a bathroom break because I had another aura, and finished with an ‘A’ but had it been a different day, I might not have been so lucky. Its about knowing yourself and your limits, but we aren’t always informed that they should exist and then you end up doing stupid things like me that could hurt you. Likewise, its important to be understanding that not everyone can work at the same pace as you. It doesn’t make the quality of our work any less even if we need more time or energy to do it.

7. Side-effects aren’t always in the short-term. My own meds are advised to not be taken long-term as they weaken my bones over time. I’m 21 now and I’ve been on meds since I was 8. I wanted to reduce my dosage and eventually become med-free last year but the neurologist told me I still had brain activity and needed to stick with them. In fact, they almost ended up prescribing me more even after I had told them I was five years seizure-free. Why? See point 9. I’m lucky though because I’ve only been on one type of med. Some people can take years to find what works and their neurologists will prescribe them all sorts and leave them with awful side effects. Only last year I was chatting with a woman whose meds had caused sudden depression and fits of anger in her after she had been diagnosed and given her prescriptions. She eventually got brain surgery instead.

8. If you have a uterus and/or want to have children, do your research and a LOT of it. Birth control is usually a tough decision to make and often times, it can feel like you have no choice. Its so important to check with multiple neurologists and doctors which form of birth control is the best for you with your medication, because even the slightest new introduction to your meds box can have unpleasant side-effects. With the current medication I’m on, I can’t take the pill unless I want to increase my current dosage of meds as the pairing cancel each other and make me more vulnerable to seizures and other side-effects. I’m not pregnant and yet I have to take daily folic acid supplements because my meds cancel that out too. Every month or two, I will faint or almost faint on the first day of my period and I’m more vulnerable to having a seizure during that time. If I ever want to give birth, my children can possibly inherit my condition or be stuck taking care of me when I should be caring for them. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.

This is not to say that people with epilepsy can’t have fulfilling sex lives or raise families. But we just do it at a greater risk that even some neurologists aren’t aware of. I had to tell my neurologist last year why I didn’t want to go on the pill because HE didn’t know it interacted negatively with my meds. I’ve known women who were prescribed the pill or meds BY A PROFESSIONAL that interacted negatively with each other and gave them seizures as a result. It takes ‘find the right method for you’ to a whole new level. If your partner has epilepsy, its so important to discuss birth control and take their condition into consideration. I hear men telling their girlfriends to go on the pill so that they don’t have to use a condom, which is really selfish for a start and also disregards other forms of birth control. Do your research but let them and their own trusted neurologist decide which form is best. You should still be using a condom to protect yourselves anyway! And if you and your epileptic partner decide you would like to have children, do the same process and make sure that they are in a safe position to do so.

9. *TW: DEATH* Threatening (even ‘jokingly’) to trigger a seizure in someone is playing with that person’s life. SUDEP (Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy) affects roughly 1 in 1000 people each year. Even if that person doesn’t die after their seizure, you may have just broken a record they set for days, months or YEARS without a seizure. You just revoked their driving license and they weren’t even behind a wheel. You just prescribed them new doses of medication without any years of medical school.

Growing up, I had countless incidences where classmates would joke about making me have a seizure. If the teacher left the room for anything, the first thing they would do is run up to the lightswitch and fuck around with it. In secondary school, I stopped using the bathroom at lunch because one of the girls thought it was funny to deliberately flick the lights on and off anytime I was inside. She would snicker and call out to me while I was in the stall, asking if it could make me have a seizure. Even after saying yes, she continued to do it. If I did end up having a seizure in that bathroom, god knows what could have happened. I had a seizure in a bathroom before and was lucky I only hurt my jaw as my head slammed against the wall. Others aren’t so lucky. Injuries from seizures can be brutal, just like OP said. Yeah, you might not kill them by triggering a seizure, but what injuries do they have to deal with after?

Imagine playing a game for years and you spent ages collecting all the items, defeating every boss and proudly showing off the trophies you won. Now imagine someone suddenly pulls the cord as you’re playing; your game freezes, the screen shuts to black and when you try to frantically start it up again and see where you had remembered to last save, it says your data is corrupted and deletes everything without your permission. It doesn’t matter where or when you saved. You have to start your progress all over again. You can try memorise the strategies from before but the game switches things up and suddenly you’re hit with a difficulty spike out of nowhere. The person who joked around and pulled the plug doesn’t have to do anything. And if they wanted to, they could do the same thing again and again. Don’t be that person. Be their Player 2 and help them. If they need to go into a dungeon but they’re scared to be alone, offer to cover their back. If their health is low, find them a safe spot and let them heal. The same goes for appointments and seizures. Its not a multiplayer game by default and while they can power through solo, that doesn’t mean they don’t need help if they’re ever stuck.

10. To end on a more positive note, there are lots of successful people out who have/had epilepsy and you probably never even knew. Cameron Boyce’s passing brought attention to SUDEP and celebrities with epilepsy but did you also know about these people and their own cases and seizures?

Prince

Elton John

Lewis Carroll

Danny Glover

Lil Wayne

Neil Young

Hugo Weaving

Charles Dickens

Julius Caesar

Vincent Van Gogh

Theodore Roosevelt

Adam Horovitz

Susan Boyle

Rick Harrison (the Pawn Stars guy!)

And some who are not confirmed (due to medical practices of the time) but are suggested as a result of numerous seizures:

Leonardo da Vinci

Michelangelo

Edgar Allen Poe

Agatha Christie

Socrates

Napoleon Bonaparte

Aristotle

Alexander the Great

Epileptics are humans, normal people just like you. And like you, they’re capable of great things too. If you think about making a crude comment to someone with epilepsy, think about these people and ask yourself if you would say the same things to them. 

If you read all of this, comment with a ⭐️ and please reblog to spread awareness. Whenever we talk about epilepsy, we start and stop the conversation at seizures. Its good to bring awareness to the other things too because its something that affects every part of our lives. Its an invisible disability but that doesn’t mean we are hidden from the disability community and discussion!

#actually epileptic #epilepsy awareness month #epilepticon2020 #just epilepsy things

[bunny-xoxo]

Bunny’s 200 follower event

request: omg hey babe i’m so excited- can i pls get one matchup from haikyuu and one from aot? whoever you think is best and not just bc you know how much i love asahi and hange lmaooo okay so i’m bisexual with a preference for females! i am an infp and a scorpio sun, leo moon, and gemini rising (and a scorpio venus 😳). i love writing and dancing! i love kpop (i know 😔), more specifically girl groups! my favorite is the group “twice” and i would prefer to be with someone who will listen to it with me! and i’m passionate about politics and playing the violin and piano! i’m rather introverted, very intuitive, very empathetic, and and i am perceptive. (literally described my mbti i’m so sorry) i am rather awkward and can appreciate a partner who is strong where i lack. i think i would like someone who is self-assured and able to assure me despite my severe social anxiety. i would also like someone i could extend my protective tendencies to, someone who would let me take care of them. i love to cook, clean, and bake (when i’m not being forced to) and would love someone who would let me do those things for them. i’m a rather physically affectionate person and i would NOT be able to be with someone who couldn’t match my energy. if they don’t enjoy physical affection i couldn’t be with them. i would appreciate someone who could understand my need for validation and offer it without being overbearing. i’m family-oriented and am determined to build a strong, healthy family with a partner who shares the same values. i would also prefer to be with someone who can appreciate my cultures since they’re pretty big parts of who i am! i am agnostic and would prefer to be in a relationship with someone not overly religious because religion makes me uncomfortable :/ i also refuse to be with someone who does not share my progressive views. if they wouldn’t be wearing their mask over their noses and refusing to eat out during a pandemic i wouldn’t even look their way. i’ve never had a serious relationship before and would prefer someone who has been in one and understands that i need time to adapt to it. as for a physical description i’m a little on the heavier side, i’m mexican-japanese, 5’5, have pretty pale skin, and extremely dark brown hair and eyes. i have a pear shaped figure and dude i have like no tits at all. i’m wearing a b-cup rn and i don’t fill it i hate it here. i tend to wear dark colors in comfortable fashion and i prefer modern/androgynous fashion. my pronouns are she/they!

a/n: omg hi bae!!! ALSO PLS THE KPOP PART WAS SO FUNNY and these guys better watch out before I match you with myself bae 😏 okok teehee pls enjoy ❣️ anon! Also omg this took 5 years I’m so sorry I don’t have internet until the 12th so using my data is a struggle 😭 okok I hope you enjoy!

Reading your request, you have been matched with...

(づ￣ ³￣)づ Mikasa Ackerman

LISTEN I think y’all would genuinely make such a good couple

Any of your interests she will sit and listen to you talk to them for literal hours and want to combust cause she thinks you look so fucking cute ranting about it it’s unreal

Sometimes you do have to take breaks ranting though cause she just wants a kiss so bad but she promises she’ll let you continue after a half hour of making out LMAO

Her favorite position to listen to you rant about k-drama is with your head laying in her lap while you look up at her so she can play with your hair and still see your face, and it makes it easier to steal a forehead kiss or too

Her second favorite though is when you’re ranting about work and you get particularly frustrated so she pulls you into her chest and runs her fingers down your back and the sides of your arms while you relax

If you can’t tell I strongly HC mikasa loves physical affection

I think its just easier for her to show you how much she cares through little gestures of affection - and she’s currently obsessed with the way your eyes close when she cups your face with both hands and rubs her thumbs across your cheeks so there’s that too LMAO

Massages‼️‼️

When you’re watching a movie and you rest your legs on her lap her hands just naturally start rubbing at your legs and if you get sleepy she just leans over and gives you a kiss on the cheek and carries you to bed and is so <3333333

Ok but she loves when she’s laying between your legs and her head rests on your chest and you play with her hair, like she’s out 5 minutes TOPS and she does drool a little but it’s ok cause she’s cute

Whenever you play the violin or piano in front of her she’s just so 😍😍😍like she will happily sit and watch you practice for hours cause she just loves how pretty you sound and how she can just feel your passion through the way you’re playing

Ok at first I think she’d have a hard time understanding why you take care of her like she’d come home and you’d have dinner already made and she’d just be 🧍🏻‍♀️...... w-what do you want from me LMAO

But I feel like she’d get use to it really fast and always appreciate the things you do for her

Now her heart gets so warm when she comes home and smells dryer sheets cause you did the laundry already, or if she hears the you blasting music she knows she’s probably gonna find you in the kitchen cooking dinner

Ok but Mikasa leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed and she’s just smirking and staring at you cook until you notice she’s there?

🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️ WHew

Omg she loves being your little taste tester while you cook and will sometimes just wait around the kitchen like 😶 until you offer her a bite and then she acts all surprised like 😯🤭 I mean ok 🤗

Ok ms quiet feet loves scaring you sorry LMAO

BUT ITS NEVER IN A teehee GOT YOU WAY

She just knows she walks quiet and she loves when she walks into a room you’re already in and you jump a little and clutch your chest she just thinks it’s the cutest thing ever

She’s one of the most appreciative people of you and adores everything about you 🖤🖤

Your vibe reminds me of...

Another suitable match for you would be...

(づ￣ ³￣)づ Iwaizumi Hajime

No cause LISTEN

THis man sees you and his knees are WEAK

Idk what it is but I just know that you’re his type like

Smth about your androgynous dark fashion catches his eye

Like he deadass watches walk across whatever room you’re in like 👁👄👁 and it’s so obvious too and you’re sweating like 👀 what’s this mf WANT

And he’s a bold mf too

Straight up just goes up to you and asks for your number yes he’s getting really sweaty and definitely is stuttering and walks away feeling 🥴

But when you text him back he is so !!!!!

Okok onto the relationship sheesh

He is so patient and understanding with you it’s unreal

The type mf to make you think like,,, damn people like this exist?

The first date y’all go on he even asks if you’re ok with him holding your hand and when you say yes he literally smiles and goes “cool :)” and his hands are so warm and big compared to yours and he keeps your hand for most of the date after that lolol

Ok but listen

Y’all went to Walmart once to get some much needed groceries and this old guy wasn’t wearing his mask right, like it wasn’t covering his nose, and iwa just s t a r e d at him like 🧍🏻

And when the guy was like ???

He went “I’m just trying to figure out how stupid you must be to not know masks cover your nose, too. 😐.”

You had to get Iwa out of the aisle before he almost got into a literal physical altercation with an elderly man LMAO

But He was like :/ I’m sorry I was dramatic inside I just didn’t like it :/ once you got in the car and he was embarrassed so much for saying something to the guy ajsksdjwij

He lets you blast whatever you want on the aux when y’all are driving even if he hates what you’re playing 😭 and he would NEVER be caught dead admitting he doesn’t like what you’re playing cause you like it so much but sometimes a song comes on and he just shoots you a side look like 👀 oh nice nice LMAO

You made him breakfast once and he cried

Like he came out and you were dishing up his plate and he just went 😐😖🥲 t-thanks

He denies it to this day though

He lovvveesss making dinner with you

It’s his perfect destresser after a bad day :(((

He loves it when you fall asleep on him too like he naps with you on accident all the time cause he’s just so big and warm and when you fall asleep on him he gets so lovey and cozy that he just dozes off and at this point he just doesn’t care about his sleep schedule anymore 😭

He’s your big ol cuddle bug :)

Your vibe reminds me of...

ongomgomg im sorry this took so long 😭 I hope you like your pairings and I can’t wait to hear from you 🥺🤲🏼

And to everyone else waiting I’m finally able to start writing again but I still won’t have internet for almost another week so they might be pushed out slowly but I’m going as fast as I can 😭❣️

Love y’all!

-🐇out

#aot matchup #haikyuu matchups #🐇200 follower event❣️

[spidercakes]

Have some mob boss!Tony and kept!Peter!

Warnings: mentions of abuse.

*

Peter shivers, upset and hurt but Tony has a hand on his shoulder like he’s trying to steady him. “Are you okay?” Tony asks and Peter knows this won’t come without a price but he’s ready to pay it, even when he knows he’ll regret it. He shakes his head slowly and Tony sighs softly, “oh course you aren’t. Come on, lets sit you down,” he says like he isn’t working through a list of his own plans with Peter but it has to be better than what he left. Maybe. Probably not, but Peter needs a plan and if Bucky has taught him anything its that abusers don’t abuse right away. Tony will play nice for awhile, he can plan then.

So he follows Tony, allows him to put him into a car while he takes deep breaths. “What do you want for this?” he asks after a few long minutes.

Tony is sitting beside him, watching him pensively. He stays like that for a moment after Peter speaks, considering. He reaches out and tilts Peter’s chin up a bit, “nothing much baby, just loyalty. Think you can do that?” he asks.

Peter nods like he has a choice, arms curling around himself tightly. “I didn’t think you’d do that out of the goodness of your heart,” he murmurs.

“Well, you’re not wrong in assuming I’m a bad man. But I do draw the line at domestic violence,” Tony tells him.

Yeah, like Peter is stupid enough to believe that. “But murder isn’t something you have qualms with?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Tony shrugs, “nature of my business.”

*

He waits for the other shoe to drop, Peter knows its going to happen because Tony is nice, too nice. He somehow found all of Peter’s stuff and brought it to him, the room he’s staying in is huge, and Tony never pushes anything. He barely even talks to Peter most days, invites him to dinner others and expects nothing. He doesn’t bar Peter from leaving but he’s not fucking stupid, the cops think he killed Bucky and they aren’t totally wrong about that either. Its because of him, he’s sure, that Tony decided to get involved and now Bucky’s dead not that Peter can bring himself to feel bad about it.

Still, its not smart to leave the house right now so he doesn’t. Tony doesn’t contradict that unless there’s an off chance that he wants to take Peter out himself, then he’ll go. The price was loyalty and Peter can do that for now, when Tony doesn’t expect much so he does what little Tony asks and that’s when the gifts start.

He’s not stupid, Bucky was nice at first too, showered him with love and attention, told him all about his life. Tried to endear himself to Peter too quickly, he knows, and played too hard at being perfect to actually be perfect. Hindsight taught him a lot but at the time he’d been young, hadn’t really dated much. He didn’t know what he was getting into and that was probably a draw too. Easier to manipulate younger people than older- the younger ones haven’t been through it enough to know the red flags. Peter was easy prey but he’s not so stupid now, he knows Tony is playing some type of game he just needs to figure it out.

The shoes are nice though, red and gold heels that he actually really likes and if it weren’t for the situation he’d be grateful. But for now he’s sure its some type of trap.

*

Peter was a fucking tough one to crack, took months to get him to let his guard down enough to get him to laugh but Tony thinks its worth it, so worth it. By then he’d started to wear the things Tony gifted him, maybe out of necessity seems how a lot of his clothes were a little worse for wear. Still, it’d been a small victory to see Peter laugh for just a moment before he seemed to realize what he’d done and then the laughter falls away.

It takes longer for Peter to come to him about anything but when he does its to ask permission to spend some time with a friend. Tony doesn’t much care, he already knows Peter will come back, its not like he has anywhere else to go and Tony paid for the lawyer that got him out of the hot water Tony accidentally stuck him in. Peter had asked what he wanted for that but it was Tony’s fault Peter was a suspect in his ex’s murder anyway so its not like he expected anything out of that. It’d been the least that he could do, clean up his own mess for Peter’s sake. But Peter goes to the movie, comes back and seems a little lighter. He asks for permission to hang out with the same friend the next day too and Tony tells him to stop asking for permission, he’s not a damn prisoner he can do whatever he wants.

Peter takes him up on it too, and he wonders if maybe Peter will go if he knows he has the option to. Tony wouldn’t chase after him anyway, Bucky isn’t the first person he’s killed and they both know he did Peter a favor. Peter didn’t mourn for his death even if he was clearly distraught about it happening in front of him.  He doubts Peter will tell anyone about that all things considered.

He always comes back though, and every time he leaves he comes back a little more confident, a little more himself as Tony has come to know him. Slowly he starts to let himself relax and that includes around Tony.

*

“Why are you so nice to me?” Peter asks Tony. They’re at a party neither of them want to be at, which is kind of part of the fun, but the question is strategic. Tony won't do much in public, they never do. Won’t stop anything from happening at home but it does mean Peter is free to ask what he wants right now with minimal repercussions in the moment.

Tony frowns at him, “because you’re a person?” he asks more than states, like Peter’s question confuses him.

He shakes his head though. “You’re not nice to most people,” Peter says. Exceptions are his sister but then anyone would be nice to her with the vibe she gives off. If Peter thought Tony was the dangerous one of the family it’d been because he hadn’t met Natasha yet. He doesn’t know what she’s gotten into but he knows that she’s a hell of a lot worse than Tony ever could be. Other than that he’s nice to his driver, Pepper, and Rhodey. He’s polite to most other people, if barely, but anyone else? He goes from irritated to out and out cruel in seconds and he has no guilt about it either. “So why are you nice to me?” Peter asks him again.

Tony sighs, “because you’ve been through enough,” he says evasively like he actually thinks that matters. Everyone Tony talks to has a history, someone they’ve lost along the way because that’s what happens when you tangle with mafias for too long. He’d think there’s a target on his back but he’s learned that people don’t like to mess with Tony too much. Out of all the other mafias hanging around it seems Tony sits at the top of the heap at least in this part of the world. Peter has had a handful of incidences and every one of those people have turned up dead and in some rather unpleasant ways. People tend to avoid him now, or treat him with a level of respect he doesn’t understand. Sometimes its from people he doesn’t even know.

“That’s not the real reason,” Peter says, pressing his luck he knows but he wants to know why Tony is nice to him. No, needs to know.

For a few long, uncomfortable seconds he thinks Tony will avoid the question again or worse but he doesn’t. “Because you’re beautiful, Peter, and smart, and sweet, and a half a dozen other things that I love about you. And because you deserve better than what you’ve been handed.” Tony walks away after that, leaving Peter to sit with the weird confession. He makes his way to the bar and sits because his feet are sore anyway. He loves those red and gold heels but they’re a pain in the ass to stand in for an extended period of time.

He feels like he’s learned nothing from Tony’s answer and a lot all at once but he choses to leave it alone for awhile. He knows he’s not going to leave Tony’s place, he’s grown used to the meals and the space and he likes it there. Ned is worried about him, so are MJ and Liz, but its been more than long enough for Tony to have gotten comfortable with his presence there. He has yet to try anything and Peter has learned his distaste for domestic violence extends far beyond Peter. He has no patience for it, sometimes even kills them about it but he never takes in anyone like he had Peter.

On the way home Peter sits beside Tony and settles a hand on his thigh. Tony carefully wraps his arm around Peter’ gives him time to pull away but he doesn’t. They stay like that all the way home and its nice, comforting. Peter wants to let himself get used to this but he doesn’t know if he should. Tony isn’t a good man and Peter isn’t sure he’ll always be good to him, good for him.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Tony murmurs as they arrive on the estate. Peter looks up at him and Tony looks dead serious. “You can go, do whatever you want, never speak to me again if that’s what you want. You don’t need to do this.”

Peter knows he’s telling the truth, he can feel it. “I know,” Peter tells him. “I’m here because I want to be.” He doesn’t know its true until he says it but he can feel how much he means it.

*

Tony doesn’t know how the fuck he got so lucky but he’ll take it. He sure shit doesn’t deserve Peter but he can’t bring himself to tell Peter that he deserves better than him, not when he’s curled up in that pretty red dress Tony got him, red and gold heels still on his feet because he’d been too tired to take them off when he came to bed. He’s selfish for keeping Peter to himself but he loves him, has almost since they met. It’d been a feeling then, the kind that he gets every once and awhile that lets him know that he should pursue something.

Now he sees what he’d felt then because Peter is perfect for him. He’s smart, and caring, and he doesn’t shy away from Tony’s dark side maybe because he’d encountered worse. And he’s beautiful with his brown curls, pretty brown eyes and bright smile. Tony never gets sick of seeing him smile or laugh, those reactions were hard fucking won and he’ll be damned if he ever breaks that trust. He doesn’t ever want Peter to suffer the way he had ever again and he will ensure he doesn’t. People learned very fast that Peter isn’t to be trifled with. Usually its Natasha people fear more than him, rightfully so given that she’s fucking nuts and in a cold, calculated way that makes her dangerous rather than unhinged, but mess with Peter and she becomes the preferable option.

Even she’d been surprised by that given that she’s always thought his distaste for murder was irritating at best, cowardly at worst. But Tony doesn’t like the cleanup, takes too much work so if he can avoid it he does. Not with Peter on the line though, he’ll do whatever it is he needs to for Peter to be safe, happy, and healthy. And so far its working well enough that people actively avoid targeting Peter and they’d do well to keep that up.

When Peter stirs Tony feels his stomach flutter. He’ll never get used to being with someone as amazing as Peter but he’ll at least do his best to deserve being with him even if he’s bound to fail. Peter blinks himself awake, looking up at Tony and smiling. “Hey, baby,” he murmurs, stretching out and wrinkling his nose when he realizes he’s still in his heels. He makes a disgruntled noise so Tony shifts his position, moving down the bed and carefully grabbing hold of Peter’s ankle so he can take off his shoes.

“Happy anniversary,” Tony says, smiling a little as he pulls off Peter’s heels.

Peter grins, smile bright. “You remembered!” he says, excited. As if Tony would ever forget something so important.

“Of course I did. Come here,” he says, pulling himself out of bed before he leans over and scoops Peter up in his arms, carrying him to the bathroom.

“You put rose petals in the bath tub!” Peter says, grinning down at the full bath. He’d just been waiting for Peter to get up so he could take Peter to it.

“You said you always wanted to take a bath with rose petals,” Tony says. The way Peter beams is so worth the trouble of plucking the petals off of all those roses. Took forever because he didn’t want to ruin any of the petals, it needed to be perfect for Peter.

“I love you,” Peter tells him, radiating happiness and this is just the beginning. Tony has a whole day planned for them comprised entirely of things Peter has said he’s always wanted to do.

“I love you too, baby,” Tony tells him, setting him down by the tub. “Now, not that I didn’t get you anything for our anniversary, but if you could have anything at all, what would you want?” he asks.

Peter smiles, “I have everything I want and then some, thanks to you.” 

“Baby,” Tony says, raising an eyebrow.

Peter huffs. “Fine, I’ve always wanted to go to Greece,” he says and done.

“I’ll book us a ticket,” Tony tells him. “Now, get in the tub. We’ve got plans today.”

#tony stark x peter parker #starker #alternate universe #fanfiction

[tiny-maus-boots]

Queen of Hearts - pt 8

A/N: thank you to everyone still reading. thank you so much to my bestie for do the thing always @chloes-yellow-cup 

08. Bad Beat

“Cassidy will you grab the rest of the breads and take them into the pantry? Thanks.”

Stacie hefted a study cardboard box full of frozen chicken cutlets and hamburger patties. She placed it on top of a stack of boxes similarly filled on the waiting dolly before the tall brunette glanced at her clipboard to confirm the last of the supplies had been accounted for. She tossed the plastic board on top of the box and tipped back the over laden hand truck to get it rolling.  She navigated through the heavy steel back door and down the hall to the storeroom, content in the work she was doing.

It wasn’t by any means heroic or anything. It was just the daily business of running the shelter, errands, chores, stocking the pantry…the usual. But it made her feel good to have such a hands-on approach to her community work. The shelter hadn’t just been a home for women that had to leave dangerous situations. It had been her own safe haven from the world her husband and parents lived in. Despite the fact that work was hard, the hours long, and the circumstances almost always heartbreaking, this place brought her peace.

Voices down the hall rose and she frowned slightly, easing the dolly down before following the commotion to its source. It wasn’t normal to hear people arguing, the shelter was a sanctuary and shouting just didn’t happen that often. A familiar strident tone threaded through the sound and her eyes narrowed. She could tell it was a man, of course by the deepness of the voice but she didn’t know him personally. She didn’t really have to. It was a husband or boyfriend or even sometimes a pimp. She knew it by the entitled bluster that loudly demanded entry.

There was a time when just the tone of that kind of aggression from any man, made her tremble in reflexive anxiety. Although those days were gone, they weren’t that far past and she could feel that sliver of fear want to take over. The ugly reminder of it made her push forward with anger of her own that quickly drowned out the scared echo in the back of her mind.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re trespa-“

“I KNOW she’s in there! You bring me my wife and my boy or I swear I’ll call the cops.”

Emotion slid off her face as she opened the inner door to the reception area and let it click closed behind her. Cassidy turned and gave her a relieved look that she smiled understandingly at. It wasn’t the girl’s fault and she knew that. A thick meaty fist banged on the thick plexi glass wall that separated them making her young friend jump.

“Why don’t you go grab a coffee and a quick snack, I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure? Should I call…someone?”

Cassidy had lowered her voice to barely a whisper but Stacie gave her credit for trying to back her up even though she was clearly uncomfortable. Though she was sure the someone Cassidy was referring to was Aubrey. She gave the girl a slight shake of her head squeezed her shoulder gently.

“It’s okay Cass, go on.”

Cassidy didn’t question it further, she just escaped out the door without a backward glance. Stacie didn’t blame her one bit. She took a calming breath before turning and offering a bland, mechanical smile to the man pacing with agitation in front of her window. He was big in that he was heavy but not that tall. Certainly not taller than her. And she could tell by the way he stretched his spine and neck that he didn’t like it one bit.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“And who the hell are you supposed to be? I want to talk to someone in charge not some fucking desk bunny.”

Usually Stacie didn’t mind when people thought of her as hot and dumb. She’d played to it often enough when it suited her needs. This time, however, it irritated her rather than just mildly amusing her. The glass front doors opened behind him as someone came in, the bright sunlight slicing through what she was realizing now was kind of a dim and dreary interior. She made a mental note to have some improvements overall and offered him a smile. First things first.

“If you’re looking for someone in charge you found her. Is there something wrong?”

“Lady you got some fucking balls. Is there something wrong? I’ve only been screaming about it for twenty fucking minutes!” His fist came up again to bang on the plexi in exclamation of his point. “I know my wife and son are in there and you better go get them now. Olivia! OLIVIA, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE YOU BITCH!”

Movement behind him drew her eye and she saw Happy peek around the side of the man, her brow raised in silent question. Did Stacie want her to deal with him? The corner of her lips twitched and she had to fight to keep her face from betraying her thoughts. A shake of her head was enough for Happy to ease back silently to let her handle things. It was still nice knowing there was backup at hand just in case. She wasn’t even surprised to see the woman. Life with Aubrey had come with the perk of personal security.

“Okay that’s about enough of that. I don’t know who your wife is or why you think she’s here but I suggest you lower your voice and you leave.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, bitch! I’m not leaving here without them. If you don’t bring them out, I swear I’ll call-“

“The cops? Sure. Let’s do that.” Stacie picked up the phone and started to dial the non-emergency phone line for the West L.A. Police Department. He banged on the glass again but she didn’t flinch, she had expected it the second she’d called his bluff. The line clicked open with a dispatcher as he stared at her furiously. He wanted to hurt her; she could tell. She’d faced that same black look a thousand times before but she wasn’t afraid of it. Not because Happy stood a few feet behind him, or the fact that there were two inches of impact glass between them. Something had shifted in her when Weston had died. Something profound that she hadn’t yet come to understand but was learning to appreciate. “Hi yes this is Stacie Conrad down at New Hope on Sepulveda…”

“Fuck you! Stupid bitch.”

He turned on a heel, practically pushing Happy and the slender woman in line behind her out of the way. Stacie let out a breath she didn’t realize that she was holding and thanked the dispatch operator before hanging up. He could be as mad as he wanted to be, as long as it was somewhere else. She shook her head and smiled at Happy who bounced a little with her thumbs up. The encouragement was appreciated, especially when the curly blonde-haired woman shifted slightly to the side and Stacie really took in the woman behind her observing everything with a keen and critical eye.

“Mother.”

It was unexpected, taking the wind out of her sails and she wondered how her mother had even found the place. She certainly had never been inclined to visit before. Helene waited a moment, carefully smoothing the skirt of her latest Dior suit set to buy her some time before speaking. Happy glanced back and forth between the two of them giving Stacie a questioning look before easing back out the front door to give them some privacy. Her mother offered a blank smile and took one step forward as if she were a bit afraid that poverty was contagious.

“Well, things are certainly livelier south of the country club, aren’t they?”

It was just this side of bitchy, her mother unable to keep herself from reminding Stacie that she was bred above this place and these people. Of course, Helene would never consider it a slight, just a gentle reminder. In a way, she supposed, her mother was attempting to meet her in the middle. A soft, tired smile tugged at her lips and she gestured for the older woman to wait.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew her mother was there because Aubrey had visited her parents. Not that her fiancée had said anything about it, but she didn’t have to. Stacie had known something had happened the second she’d gotten a text from Aubrey letting her know that they were having a family dinner. It wasn’t uncommon really, she had learned that when Aubrey wanted to show love she cooked, and she cooked a lot. But the timing was so random and spontaneous, so weighted by whatever knowledge Aubrey had learned that afternoon.

Stacie had suspected that it had to do with her parents when Aubrey had caught her in the kitchen and pulled her into a hug, strong arms wrapping around her protectively. It was the type of love she hadn’t known really existed before. So, she hadn’t questioned it, hadn’t thought harder on it because it didn’t really matter what her life was like before the blonde or what Aubrey had found out. All that mattered was how deeply loved she felt now.

Her footsteps brought her through the office and around to the heavy steel door that separated her from the lobby. Stacie took a breath to center herself but pushed back against the urge to close herself off and wall up her emotions so she could present a camera-ready visage at any moment. She rested her palm flat on the door and pushed it open wide enough to admit her mother to the back.

“I wasn’t sure you knew the map extended past the country club, mother.”

They could trade politely smiled barbs at each other all day but she was getting really tired of that song and dance. Maybe they both were. They eyed each other for a long second before she jerked her head in invitation. Helene seemed to think it good enough and stepped past the threshold to the rest of the shelter. Stacie let the door shut and gave it push to be sure it was locked shut before gesturing for her mother to walk with her.

“I’m surprised to see you, mom. Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. I just…to be quite honest Anastacia, I don’t know. I just.” She stopped short unable to articulate what had brought her. “I found myself needing to see…”

The tall brunette dipped her head in a nod of acknowledgement, absolving her mother of further explanation. Stacie stopped at the pantry and waved a hand to gesture Helene into the room. She picked up her clipboard and hung it on the hook on the wall before starting to dig through the boxes still patiently stacked on the dolly awaiting attention. Her mother watched it all with curiosity bubbling behind her hazel green eyes. She was sure she knew what her mother was trying to say, or at least she  hoped she did.

“Just give me a second to get this sorted out, maybe we could…have lunch?”

It was tentatively asked because it wouldn’t be the first time her lunch invitation had been declined. She almost expected to hear that there weren’t any decent places to eat in that part of town or some other snobby slight. Stacie was so sure her mother would decline that she looked away from the older woman and started stacking the frozen items in the big commercial freezer the shelter had just purchased at a significant discount from one of Aubrey’s suppliers.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

A box of cube steaks slipped between her fingers and clattered to the ground. She blinked and looked back at her mother before grabbing the box and stacking it neatly in the freezer. Okay. It was unexpected but it was a start. Maybe.

“Great. Let me just finish putting these away and we can go.”

Helene shifted her weight and Stacie could feel the tension under the surface. She raised a brow in question and her mother gestured to the boxes with a graceful wave of her hand.

“Don’t you have people to do the grunt work?”

Stacie chuckled softly as she finished emptying one box and started on another with canned goods. She moved around the pantry, stocking the shelves, and taking note of what was needed still. Her mother hadn’t meant an insult by it, she was a woman used to giving orders and expecting them to be followed. It was the type of life that led to soft hands and hard hearts and it was exactly what Stacie never wanted to be.

“Well. The shelter budget only includes 3 full time employees, so we maintain the ship on the kindness of volunteers and we all lend a hand where we can.”

“Three??? That is insanity. You can’t run a business on three solid employees!” She smiled in mild amusement and shook her head. Her mother’s outrage and disbelief seemed so out of place when she’d been running the place on less for almost a decade. Stacie emptied the last box and pulled a bag of fresh grapes from the fridge to wash off in the large stainless sink along one wall. “That’s not a sustainable model.”

“Well, most of our funding covers the overhead of the building. Insurance of course, and the electricity bill here is ridiculous. But…we’ve been managing. Like I said, we have a lot of volunteers staffed and I’m grateful for each and every one of them.”

She dried the grapes, depositing them in a bowl and grabbed her clipboard before gesturing for Helene to follow her. They had only made it about 4 steps down the hall when Cass called out from her spot back at the front desk.

“Stace, the plumber emailed over the quote. It’s on your desk and you’re not gonna like it!”

“Thanks, Cass! I’ll call them back today!”

Shouting down the hall would been frowned upon at home when she was growing but she didn’t have the time to walk to the front just for that bit of info. Stacie pushed open the double doors to room they had recently designated as the playroom. It was large and brightly painted with books and games stacked neatly on shelves along the walls and thick spongey mats on the floor. Nearly a dozen kids made a beeline straight for her making her laugh in delight.

“Okay okay, easy guys. More than enough grapes for everyone. Hey Tanner.” A teenaged boy pushed off from the wall and waded through the kids to grab a some of the sweet fruit. She smiled at him and he blushed, glancing away nervously. It was adorable. Stacie turned back to her mother and gestured to the teen at her side as she handed him the bowl of grapes. “Tanner is one of our superstars, he helps out in the afternoons with the kids while the AA meeting convenes in the multipurpose room. We’re pretty self sufficient here, we look after our own.”

“We’re a family. Like a real one.”

Both women turned to look at the shy young man that looked like he wished he’d never spoken. Stacie winked at him and patted his shoulder as she stepped back toward the door. Tanner and his mother Linda had been some of the first families to stay at New Hope and she was glad to see them doing well.

“Do all the guests do work here?”

“It’s not required but some do, yes. Tanner doesn’t live here anymore but he and his mom make it a point to help out as often as they can.”

“Yo! Stacie, we need you to review that grant proposal before we submit it. The deadline is tonight, it’s on your desk!”

Stacie and her mom parted as a small determined body buzzed down the hall. Her mother looked a little flustered at the abruptness of the comment even as the speaker disappeared back up the hall and into a small office.

“Don’t mind Elena. She’s ‘eh’ on people skills but she’s a whiz at writing grants.”

They had finally made it to the smallest office at the back of the building. It was windowless and dark but she’d worked hard to make it cozy and comfortable. Her wide worktable took up most of one side and she settled behind it with a gesture to the seat across from her.

“I hadn’t realized how busy you were here…”

There was something in her tone that made Stacie look up from her computer screen with a frown. It was thoughtful and quiet, more like Helene was speaking to herself rather than to her daughter. The silence between them stretched, neither party sure what to say or how to close the gap that had been growing since as far back as Stacie could remember. Despite the fact that they were family, mother and daughter, they were really just two strangers to each other.

She opened her mouth to say anything to break the odd tableau when a casual knock on the door drew their attention and saved her from an inarticulate flounder. The tiny woman leaned against the frame with a grin and a plastic container full of food she could smell from there. Her stomach gave a growl of anticipation and Stacie beamed. Happy’s girlfriend laughed at the entirely scandalized look on her mother’s face and stepped into the office.

“Hey…I didn’t mean to interrupt…”

“Not at all, come in. Flo this is my mom Helene Conrad, mother this is Florencia Fuentes. She has a local catering business in town and donates a lot of prepared food to us. She’s a saint. Wha’cha got in the box?”

“Nice to meet you Mrs. Conrad.” The small woman offered Helene a smile and placed the container in front of Stacie. “I was just dropping off something for tonight. And Happy told me you skipped lunch again. So, I brought your favorite to tempt you into eating.”

Stacie’s eyes went right to the container, her mouth watering already. Over the last six months she and Florencia had gotten close, bonding over the amazing food the caterer had been donating almost weekly. And in that time she’d grown more than a little fond of Cuban cuisine.

“Tempt me? You couldn’t convince me to eat anything else.” Well. Almost anything else. Stacie kept her face perfectly schooled as the errant thought ran through her head. She reminded herself that her mother was marginally fine with sitting in a cramped closet of an office in a less than great part of town, scandalizing her now wouldn’t do their relationship any favors. The thought of her mother just sitting there staring at her salivating over the as yet unopened container brought Stacie back to herself. “Oh…mom…I promised lunch…”

“That’s quite alright, Anastacia. It would be a shame to let such a thoughtful gesture go to waste. It smells delicious.”

Flo beamed at the praise, and she should have. Helene didn’t give outright compliments unless she felt they were deserved. Stacie glanced at her mother, her mind quickly processing every twitch of muscle and softly sighed breath. Her mom’s eyes dipped to the container the curiosity and hunger obvious only to Stacie who knew her mother better than anyone else on the planet. Flo gestured to the hallway just outside the open door and tipped her head to the side as she watched the delicate dance between Stacie and her mother.

“I can get plates and silverware from the kitchen for you guys…”

Stacie nodded even though her mother was wavering on the edge of accepting the offer. She was sure that she would have declined with a sneer if her friends had been around. The younger Conrad woman lifted the lid to let the aroma waft up and out. Her mother’s eyes closed briefly as she inhaled the exotic combination of savory and sweet scents.

“Oh, my goodness…”

“Mouthwatering isn’t it?”

Helene nodded dazedly, not even noticing Flo come back with dishes. Her friend gave her a grin as she handed the plates and forks over and Stacie mouthed a thank you before starting to divvy up the rice and beans and seasoned meat.

“I’d better go, I have pastor’s 85th birthday event to cater in South Gate. Buen provecho and it was really nice to meet you Mrs. Conrad.”

“You too, dear. Thank you for the food if it tastes as delicious as it smells I’ll be in heaven.”

Stacie got up and gave Flo a tight hug before she could leave. Most of her adult life she’d only ever had one true friend in Cynthia Rose. But now things were different and she counted herself lucky to have found other amazing women that she could trust and that understood the life she had. It was helping she find who the real Stacie Conrad was under the carefully held up façade she was forced to build for herself.

“Thank you and hey, you, me, Ashley and the Doc for a girl’s day, yeah?”

“Count me in. Besos.”

“Bye.” Stacie watched Flo leave before settling back into her chair. She had been aware of her mother watching her carefully as she said her goodbyes. It was probably the first time that Helene had ever seen a real friendship up close in her life. “Sorry, okay. We’ve got a little of everything here.”

“Sizeable portions, nice presentation, it doesn’t even have to be good and she could make a decent living with a small café style store front in the art district.”

“Give it a try.” Stacie grinned and slid a plate across the desk to her mother. Helene gave her a dubious look and speared some of the steak on the end of her fork. The older woman gave an exasperated sigh before popping it in her mouth. She knew the moment Helene actually tasted the food she’d be hooked and she wasn’t surprised by the approving hum from the older woman. “It’s good right?”

“This is amazing. Oh, she could make a killing. What is this dish? I simply must know.”

“It’s called ropa vieja.” She waited a beat for her mom to take another, bigger bite of the food before continuing. “It literally means old clothes.”

Helene stopped chewing and looked at her fork then Stacie. The look on her face was too much for her and Stacie tipped her head back in a laugh.

“Oh God, your face. It’s fine, it’s just flank steak in a tomato sauce with white rice and black beans. And those are maduros. Um. Fried plantains.”

The other woman looked at the plate as her daughter pointed out all the components of the meal. She looked up and smiled in soft amusement at Stacie and for the life of her she couldn’t remember when that had happened before. Stacie’s own lips curled in a smile to match and for the first time felt like maybe there really was common ground between them. Maybe they just had to try a little harder to reach out to each other.

“This is…this is really nice, Stacie. I’m glad I came.”

She opened her mouth to comment that it was the first time her mother had used her nickname but her phone gave a petulant sounding buzz from somewhere under the stack of papers on her desk. She shifted the plate and files over until she found it and answered with a brief smile of apology for her mom.

“This is Stacie Conrad.”

“Hey mom.”

The voice was unmistakably Detective Mitchell but the greeting was strange. Stacie frowned slightly and looked at the clock on the wall. It was late afternoon and she was reasonably certain that the cop hadn’t yet started drinking but Beca was unpredictable and could be three sheets to the wind already. She lowered her voice and sat back in her chair, a knot already twisting her gut as she pondered all the reasons that Beca would be trying to reach her.

“Should I be worried you’re calling me?”

“Yeah, I know, I don’t call enough. I figure no news is good news, right?”

“Does that mean you have news and it’s not good?”

“Listen, how’s Daddy doing? Last time I saw him he had his hands tied.”

Stacie froze. A part of her was amused that Beca was referring to Aubrey as Daddy but that was quickly swallowed by the sick feeling of realization that Detective Mitchell was trying to tell her that Aubrey had been arrested. At least that was what she assumed based on what was said.

“Jesus Christ. They arrested her, didn’t they?”

“You’re always right, Mom. Listen I just wanted to check in. I got a big fish on the hook and I have to check some things out. I’ll see you and Daddy later, okay?”

“You know she’s going to murder you if you call her Daddy to her face, right?”

The line clicked abruptly on Beca’s amused and utterly unconcerned laughter. Stacie looked at her phone then dragged her eyes up to meet her mother’s bright-eyed stare. Disapproval etched a deep furrow in her brow and the very thin, shaky ground between them crumbled away with each word she spoke.

“I have to go downtown.”

[bordeauxatdusk]

Mystique (A Detroit: Become Human Fanfic) Part 1

 Read the full fic (so far) on Ao3 here!

DISCLAIMER this fic is about gay android detectives in 2038. Please know that I am a BLM supporter and that I do not write in this in support of our current shitty criminal justice system. 

Forget-me-nots.

The dead woman’s eyes were the same color as the flowers in her hair.

She was poised, artfully, in an elegant position that looked almost like a sculpture. Rigor mortis held her in place. The crown of forget-me-nots was integrated with an elaborate veil of white lace that fell gracefully down her back.

The bloodstained silk wedding gown she was wrapped in extended outward, rippling over the room, which was staged like a movie set; a host of antique items and classic still-life objects had been structured to frame her. Elaborate globes mingled with vases of flowers mingled with stacks of old yellowing books, covers frayed. Warm light streamed in lazily from large arcing windows, illuminating the oakwood floors of the room.

The light glinted off the pearl dagger embedded in the woman’s chest. In front of her, a gold-leafed, leather-bound edition of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet had been left open to the infamous scene:

“O, happy dagger, this is thy sheath.”

A human would undoubtedly call the scene beautiful.

To Nines, however, it was simply another murder.

He was capable of appreciating beauty, although many would be surprised to hear it. (Some people were surprised to hear that androids were capable of any abstract thought at all.)

Nines understand the concept of aesthetic value perfectly well. What he was not capable of understanding was how humans, in their love of aesthetic value, sometimes seemed to discard logic and reason.

The concept of a beautiful murder was immaterial to him. It was still murder. Whether it was committed in a wide-open oak room or in a rotting gutter made no difference.

Nines would hunt down and eliminate the murderer either way.

He was glad that Gavin felt the same, although Nines was concerned that he seemed disproportionately unnerved by something. What exactly it was, Nines couldn’t tell.

He knew that Gavin was upset partially from the rising levels of adrenaline in his scans, partially from the fact that Gavin’s pupils were dilated and he was beginning to fidget in the way he typically expressed distress (tapping his fingers together and pacing, mostly) and partially from the fact that he was increasing his profanity from its normal rate of about every one in fifteen words to every one in ten.

Nines had spent a lot of time analyzing Gavin Reed. Perhaps an irrational amount.

It hadn’t helped much.

Nines guessed that the cause of his partner’s distress must be some deeply-held psychological trauma. Humans often experienced it, and Gavin personally had suffered a difficult childhood. Whatever the reason for his distress, it must be very serious.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘ I don’t know ’, Tina?! ” his partner was currently yelling into his phone. “It’s a simple goddamn question! Do they have jalapeno poppers or not?!”

Fascinating.

Nines was well equipped to read Gavin, but very poorly equipped to understand him. The difference, he felt, was vast. He was... displeased by it. Androids were predictable, generally. Deviants much less so than non-deviants, of course, but they were still more logical than humans. At first Nines had been convinced that Gavin was simply uncomfortable expressing his emotions, but the android had begun to discover that Gavin himself was often unaware of them.

Perhaps there was some unpleasant memory jalapeno poppers evoked for his partner. He would have to ask later. Nines would have preferred to have Gavin leave the room and take a few minutes to calm down, but he had learned recently that it wasn’t an option. Apparently, Nines doing what he was designed to do and examining the physical evidence without Gavin’s interference meant he was “being a fucking know-it-all” and a “stuck-up asshole.”

“Look,” Gavin had said a few weeks ago, waving a hand dismissively to try and distract from the fact that he was clearly upset. “ It’s no big deal. Just don’t keep fucking asking me to leave in the middle of crime scenes, okay?”

Nines had been unable to see the point of this request. “ Gavin, you were clearly disgusted by the scope of the damage done to the victim.”

“Well, yeah,” Gavin had muttered sulkily, “but you don’t need to be all weird about it. Look, Nines, I want to do my job. Let me do it. Even if I’m not really helping, just let me feel like I am, okay?”

Nines had been even more confused. “ If you aren’t going to help, why are you so determined to be there? Humans aren’t exactly well-equipped for forensic analysis to begin with. I don’t hold it against you.”

It had escalated into a full-blown fight that left Nines more confused than ever until Gavin was finally able to articulate that he didn’t want to feel useless.

The absurdity and simplicity of the answer had caught Nines off guard. Gavin Reed, useless? They had won a medal together just six months ago for solving an incredibly dangerous case, saving the lives of ten other officers in the process (and possibly the entire DPD). Their success had almost entirely been due to Gavin. Useless?

Nines strongly disagreed.

He had told Gavin so. Nines always said what he meant.

Gavin had huffed under his breath.

“ Alright, shit, I get it,” he’d said, trying and failing not to smile. “You’re a big fucking suck-up.”

Nines knew enough about humans to understand that the insulting response had roughly meant, in Gavin-language,“Thank you, Nines. I’m flattered.”

What confused him is why Gavin didn’t just say that instead.

Humans never said what they meant. It was inconvenient.

Gavin's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

“Hey, Robocop. You find anything?”

Nines blinked. Gavin was staring at him, phone in hand, waiting.

Nine shook his head. “This crime scene is so elaborately staged, I can’t move through it without risking disrupting the evidence. Every object in this room is potentially a key to solving the case. There’s a very low probability the killer managed to set this up without leaving some traces of his presence behind-- fingerprints, hair, DNA. It would be better to wait until forensics arrives, and allow them to do their job. “

Gavin wrinkled his nose, thinking. It was a habit of his.

(One that Nines found extremely distracting, but it wasn’t the time for that.)

“Is something bothering you, Detective?” Nines asked.

Gavin huffed. “Yeah, stop calling me ‘detective.’ You know my name.”

He paused for a moment, sighed, and then gestured to the scene in front of them.

“It’s this whole thing, Nines. I hate it when they do this shit. It’s so fucked up. Trying to turn something so horrible into something pretty, or romantic, or-- I don’t know. You’ll see. These cases are always hell to investigate. We can’t let a single drop of this leak to the media, or else this poor girl is going to be on the front page of every newspaper across the country. ‘The Girl In the Wedding Dress’, or some shit like that.”

Nines didn’t understand. “I’m not sure I’m following you. You don’t want her case to be publicized?”

Gavin shook his head. “Hell no. How do I explain this? Okay. This girl, she’s not fucking Juliet, right? What's her real name? You know it already with your facial recognition?”

“Ashley Briggs.”

“Okay. She’s not Juliet. She’s Ashley. Ashley was a whole person, with a life and family and friends, and then some fucking creepy asshole murdered her and dressed her up like Juliet. The media’s problem is, they like stories with publicity. They like stuff that has a nice ring to it. Ashley Briggs, not so much. ‘The Girl in the White Dress?’ ‘The Woman in White?’ some other bullshit like that? They eat that up.  A picture of a pretty girl in a wedding dress with a dagger in her chest? That’s the kind of stuff they eat for breakfast. They love it, Nines! It’s like the Black Dahlia. If any of this gets out,  nobody will give two fucks about Ashley Briggs, but they’ll all love her death."

Gavin stopped for a moment to take a breath, hands gesturing wildly, eyes narrowed in anger.

"Rumors will be everywhere. Poor Ashley’s family is gonna have to deal with photos of their little girl murdered and dressed up in a fucking wedding dress all over every tabloid in the grocery store for the next eight years. And not a single one of the people obsessed with ‘Juliet’ is gonna give a shit about Ashley. Everyone’s gonna see her how the killer saw her, how he wanted us to see her, how he set her up: as pretty tragic Juliet in a wedding dress. Nobody is gonna know or remember Ashley Briggs. Don’t you see how fucked up that is? They never give a shit about the victim, even though they pretend to. It’s always about the fucking killer and his ideology.”

Nines was stunned. He had never considered that aspect of a crime before. Looking at it from that perspective, it did seem disturbing.

“They’ll romanticize her murder," he finished for Gavin, who looked almost too angry to continue.

Gavin nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The most fucked up part is, that’s what he wants. Her killer staged her this way because he’s trying to put on a fucking show. This is a murder with a message, we just don’t know what it is. I hate that those bastards always seem to get the attention they want. People always remember the killer, but they never remember the victim. Hell, how many people do you think could name a single victim of Ted Bundy? Or Jeffery Dahmer? Or any of the other sick bastards that decide to take their sexual fantasies out on so many innocent people that everyone forgets about?”

Nines raised an eyebrow. “We don’t know that this murder is sexual in nature.”

Gavin huffed. “Nah, but there’s a pattern when it comes to motive and method. There’s tons of examples. Um. Execution-style gunshots to the back of the head are cold, professional. Victim’s turned away, there’s a distance between them and the killer. No eye contact. Hired killers, a lot of the time.”

Gavin demonstrated with a finger gun, eyes distant, like he was remembering cases he’d seen before.

“Stranglings are personal, and a lot of the time they’re sexual. Killer’s up close, right in their face. Looking them in the eye, watching them slowly die, hands-on contact. It’s ‘intimate’ for those fucked-up pieces of shit. They’re normally sexual sadists. Hate those ones.”

Gavin’s brow wrinkled in disgust as he demonstrated.

“Stabbings are personal too, but in a different way. Bloody, aggressive, painful. Personal vendetta, lots of times. Someone close to the victim with a grudge. Betrayal maybe, ‘cause there’s anger behind it. Besides, she’s staged as fucking Juliet. Who do you think her Romeo’s supposed to be? The mailman?”

Nines hummed in response. He didn’t doubt Gavin’s theory, but any investigation should work from the external to the internal. The solid evidence should be interpreted to form theories, not theories interpreted to fit the evidence. The second an investigator began to let their personal opinions dictate the situation, they became biased.

“I still believe we should wait for the evidence to be analyzed before assuming anything.”

Gavin crossed his arms. His body language throughout this speech had been aggressive. Nines’ scans told him that Gavin was intensely angry.

“I’m not fucking assuming, I’m theorizing. If the evidence says something different then I’ll change my tune. I’m just saying, maybe the fact that she’s being staged all pretty in a fancy room in a wedding dress mirroring the suicide from goddamn ‘ Romeo and Juliet’ might have some tiny romantic undertones, Nines.”

“So perhaps we should interview her neighbors first.”

“Hell yes, we should,” Gavin said. “Starting with whoever found the body.”

He started to turn away to head out the door.

Nines stopped him. “Gavin, wait.”

He twisted back around in surprise. “What?”

Nines pressed his hands together, standing stiffly. “Are you angry with me?”

Gavin stopped in his tracks and paused for a moment in an emotion Nines was unable to read. There was a second of tension, and then Nines’ partner seemed to crumple inward as he sighed heavily, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

“No,” he said to the floor by his feet. “Sorry. It’s this case. Stuff like this- it’s fucking creepy. I get all tense. Of course I’m not mad at you, dumbass. I’m just- I’m not good at expressing shit, y’know. ”

Nines walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Is there anything I can do?”

Gavin’s entire demeanor changed, going from aggressive to something much more vulnerable instantly. It was a switch that, even though they’d been together for six months now, Nines had rarely seen.

“No,” Gavin said softly. “I just want to catch the bastard. Otherwise, cases like this, they always stick with me. I’ll- I’ll see her everywhere. Ashley, I mean. In mirrors, reflections, dreams. Asking me why I couldn’t do it. People always act like murder investigations are some cop-show badass bullshit, but they aren’t. The pressure’s gonna be hell. We’re gonna have to go through her whole life and dig up a lot of secrets. Everyone has graves that are better left buried. Take my word for it, it’s gonna suck. And even if we find the fucking bastard, he still might get off. Normally, I can distance myself from it, I guess, but when it’s something this creepy- I just- I don’t know if I can do it. There's something about this case. I have such a bad fucking feeling about this whole thing. It’s driving me crazy. ”

Nines reached out and wrapped his arms around Gavin, pulling him close. It was meant as a comforting gesture, and he noticed with satisfaction that his partner’s distress seemed to decrease.

Nines was beginning to understand how to react to Gavin’s moods, even if he didn’t always understand the reason why they were happening. They had both worked dozens of homicide cases. Nines didn’t understand how this case was any different, but it didn’t matter. He was programmed to adapt to human unpredictability.

He never knew what to make of Gavin’s hunches, though. They were objectively irrational, and they were also always right. It drove him insane. It defied reason.

Then again, nothing about Gavin was reasonable.

“We’re professionals,” Nines began, “and-”

“And you’re hugging me in the middle of a fucking murder scene,” Gavin interrupted, voice muffled from pressing his face into Nines’ shoulder, “like a true professional.”

“You needed a hug. Let me finish. We’re professionals, and there’s a lot of potential just in this room for the killer to have made a mistake. The chances of him staging all this with zero forensic evidence left behind are very low-”

“Mhmmm,” Gavin said, leaning into the hug.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Nope,” Gavin muttered.

Nines sighed.

He gently pulled Gavin away from him, brushing off his partner’s coat, which was eternally covered in cat hair.

“We need to go interview the neighbors. Listen. We work very well together. We’ve faced near-impossible odds before. Compared to our last big case, this will most likely be easy.”

“Nothing’s ever easy,” Gavin groaned. “Especially not in fucking homicide.”

“Well then, we’ll support each other, just like last time.”

Gavin smiled wryly. “Are you going to break a rib and give me a concussion again?”

“That highly depends,” Nines said, “on whether or not you plan to shoot me a second time.”

“You told me to!”

“I was paralyzed and all my communications were disabled. I couldn’t tell you to do anything."

“Your light flashed!”

“My LED,” Nines said, raising an eyebrow, “never stops flashing, unless I’m decommissioned.”

Gavin shoved him-- an adorably futile effort, considering he didn’t move even a fraction of an inch.

“Come on, smartass,” Gavin said. “We have some friendly neighbors to interrogate.”

#dbh #detroit become human #dbh fanfic #reed900 #gavin reed #rk900 #nines

[ilumanate]

1. The way you love

2. The 'right' feeling you give me

3. You are virtuous, which really reflects your name

4. The support you show me even in my craziest endeavoura

5. The adventures we take together

6. You're childish yet mature

7. You're kind and considerate, and understanding

8. You have a good family, and you love your family

9 You think about things deeply. You are wise

10. You care for people and community.

11. The way you doubt yourself and not see how perfect you are

12. How you are willing to try new things

13. How you dare to dream outside of your lived experience

14. Your silly antics (also 6)

15. Tarian

16. We think the same way and agree on the same things 90% of the time

17. Our horoscopes match

18. Your willingness to learn and take on a different perspective

19. Your forgiveness

20. The way you behave both like a mother and a chils

21. The way your fat thighs heat up

22. The way you listen to people wholeheartedly even when you are not interested or disagree

23. Your independence and reliability

24 The way you see the good in others, and give people a chance to prove themselves before you place your judgement

25. The way you put others before yourself

26. Courage (in addition to 23)

27.. The way you try to look pretty sometimes even though I say I don't care

28. The way you look beautiful even in casual clothing

29. That you know your limits and 'no means no' and 'enough means enough'

30. That you know your dreams and priorites

31. That you are dedicated and faithful

32. The way you feel uncomfortable and ask "what" when looked at for too long

33. The way you say "fuck", because you know its a bad word but some occassions makes it appropriate.

34. You have a good heart and good intentions

35. The way you lecture me and there are different levels to it: the "concerned talk lecture (should not drive in Thailand)", "The serious talk with the annoyed eyebrow lecture", "the buay tahan going to cry lecture (don't shower, and not understanding the severity of our relationship situation)"

36. The way you were so sure we were going to be married

37. The way you planned for our future

38. How you thought what we were doing did not matter as much as our enjoyment of purely being together (bucket lists, cheap thrills)

39. How we were perfectly comfortable with each other - pooping, peeing, and farting.

40. How you refuse to cry in front of me

41. How you hair always smell like your shampoo, and your clothes smell like your detergent

42. How you bought yourself a Starbucks card for Valentine's on my behalf

43. How you taught me to be a good person and a good boyfriend/husband/lover

44. How we were already behaving like we were married

45. How you always say thank you and praise me even though we were just doing the same small things for each other that we might otherwise take for granted

46. How you see love and kinship in a way that I did not see, and practiced it in a way that I did not enjoy growing up

47. How you understood that there are many things that are more important than money. (I do too. I do.)

48. How you convinced yourself not to buy little souvenirs from trips even though you really wanted them

49. How you were always smiling and cheerful and talkative, and something was wrong when you were not

50. How proud you are to be a Singaporean

51. How bad you are in the kitchen, and scared of fire but still cooked and baked for me

52. How we were able to talk about everything under the sun (and moon and stars - mbs)

53 How you physically challenge yourself even though you don't think you were capable (MAD and OE)

54. How nerdy you look in specs and how blind you were without it

55. How you didn't give up hope on me even when I gave up on myself in JC. How you believed in me.

56. How you were a source of hope for me in all my difficult times

57. How you were more than just a partner, but a family, a friend, a best friend, a playmate, a lover, companion, travel partner, soulmate, everything

58. How you thought that having a practical opinion on a water bottle was a trait of a perfect husband

59. How you looked up to me and saw potential even when you were a med student and I was a nothing - it was something I was uncomfortable with

60. How you tolerated my stupidity and did not expect me to be any different than who I was, myself

61. How you were more daring than me - booked staycay even when I hesitated

62. How you are able to make me smile just by being present, even on the phone

63. How you are grateful for the little things

64. How you are wise and smart in the ways that I could not

65. Your family (obviously). and extended family

66. Your child-like handwriting

67. The sheepish look you give when I scold you for wasting your food

68. The way I feel like I know you. Your likes and dislikes, what you don't eat, etc

69. Wow, we got to 69

70. The way we seem to understand each other verbally and non-verbally. Sometimes creepy telepathy

71. I swear there were times when I felt we were born for each other

72. How I know that I would be happy if I had nothing in the world but you. Something that hit me very hard and very clearly July last year

73. The sound effects that you sometimes make

74. Your dimples

75. How I forget that you are a girl sometimes. This is more significant than jt may seem. That's why I feel like you were a soulmate, cos I would probably love a guy like you. With you, it's like there were no gender roles, no boundaries?

76. The way you giggle until your head rolled over to one side

77. The way we were deeply connected but also had personal space

78. The way you got pissed at me because you cared (also 20)

79. That we got favorable answers when we asked about each other in the temple

80. The way you bun up your hair with a towel after you shower

81. How you eat Mcspicy even though it gives you diarrhea

82.

[howaboutleeches]

one needy request: following captain!MC and captain!julian’s encounter in the tavern, they party on either on Mc’s or Julian’s ship and spend the night teasing, building ENORMOUS sexual tension like eye contact, mc noticing details about him dhxhshsv but also getting to know one another and their crew... all perhaps leading to a smut or any sort of tension relief satisfaction? up to you, tho im sure whatever you choose to do t’ll be eyecandy 🌸👀

"Are you a good man, Captain?" Julian x Reader (pt.2)

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, sexual tension

Part 1

Word Count: 3,839

On the last chapter....

"Captain! We won!" Jackie bursted into the room and Julian turned his head while I ducked to the side to look at her "Ooooh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were, well, yeah. I'm, uh, going down and, well, see ya!"

We kept looking at the door until the sound of her footsteps were nothing but a simple memory. We stared at each other again and starting laughing, still holding onto one another.

"Now that was a mood breaker" I pressed my forehead against his chest and he sighed.

"Well, I'm sure we'll be able to continue our fun another time"

My eyes went wide and I smiled at him "We are having a party tonight at my ship, you and your crew should come!" I realized I sounded to excited and fake coughed "I mean, only if you want to"

He laughed lightly and kissed my cheek "It'll be my pleasure, darling"

I let go of his clothes and walked past him, going out of the room, but stopping before he vanished from my sight "Maybe you can show me how bad you are"

I ran down the corridor, rushing down the stairs, excited and giggling like a teenager. I couldn't wait to tell Jackie all the juicy details.

Now....

"Ah, I just can't believe I ruined that! Captain, you were finally gonna get some!" Jackie said loudly enough to turn some heads in our direction.

"Keep it down, I don't want everyone to know about my personal life" I led her by the arm to the street, going outside of the crowded bar.

"So, do you have anything in mind? I mean, he looks like a piece of work. The type that likes to keep things interesting"

She wasn't wrong. By the little time I spent with him I noticed that he was the type that liked to be surprised. Dull wasn't his thing. I wanted to make a good impression on him, not gonna lie. But I still didn't want to seem desperate.

"Not really. I don't want to overdo it, but I definitely want to show my interest. What do you suggest?" I trudge Jackie with my life, and she always had success on her love affairs, so why not ask her?

"You know what? Go to the ship, take a nice bath, dress nicely and spray some perfume. I'll take care of the rest" Her mischievous grin made a chill run down my spine.

"Can't you at least tell me what you're thinking?"

"Sorry Cap, no can do. Now go and get sexy" She started pushing me to walk faster and I did, a little grumpy for not knowing what her plan was about.

After a few minutes walking on the dark and calm streets, I saw my ship. The beautiful Enchantress, lit by the moonlight. It was a "family inheritance", since all my ancestors before me were pirates as well. My parents retired, saying that piracy life wasn't for them anymore, and gave me the ship. Even though I was quite young at the time, I still managed to select a very good crew, sail and manage it with grace.

The ship itself had been strictly taken care of. I have visited many ships during my years as a captain. Invitations to raids, parties or just drunken talks were quite usual for me. And that gave me the chance to take a look at other captains ships, making me feel proud of my own. There was usually blood, oil or even piss on the deck, making it unbearable to stay on the deck for more than fifteen minutes.

My beautiful Enchantress, on the other hand, was vigorously scrubbed almost every day and, to my surprise, the crew actually enjoyed doing the cleaning. Some of them had some experience with ships and claimed that they always wanted to keep the place organized, but their former captains required other types of services from them, leaving no time for cleaning. It was a relief for them to be able to work in a nice smelling place.

As I entender the ship, the soft smell of the ocean entered my nose and I could help but feel I little bit more relaxed. I strutted towards my cabin, the captain's cabin, and started taking some of my ornaments off. Hat, bandana, necklace and rings were all off and laying on the bed next to my recently removed sword. I noticed a stain on my shirt and leaned down to smell it, instantly regretting it. Booze and probably piss. It probably got there when I was crawling behind the counter.

And then it hit me. Shit! Captain Devorak probably smelled that on me. And now he must be thinking that I'm a drunk that pees on myself. I ruined everything. Damn it. Changing clothes was the best option that crossed my mind and I decided to oblige to it. Taking off my pants and dirty shirt, and throwing them on the dirty clothes bucket, I opened my wardrobe to find...almost nothing. Literally, almost nothing. The piece of clothing was almost nothing. On one of our scavenging hunts to Danog, Jackie stole this, well, night lady worker's dress and told I would look marvelous on me. Of course, marvelous wasn't the word that she used.

And now that was the only piece of clean clothing left on my wardrobe. I couldn't wear something dirty, especially after the booze and piss incident. That would have to do for the night. I gave light pats on the dress in case there was any dust on it and started to put it on. At first it was a little uncomfortable, since the outfit had many holes on it and I didn't exactly knew how to put it on. After five agonizing minutes, the dress was on and I looked at myself on the mirror, not recognizing the person staring back.

The dress wasn't short, but it had an opening in it that went from my feet to the middle of my thigh. Its fabric was very light and soft, making the dress dance with the slightest presence of wind. On the chest part, it was indeed very exposing. It showed off almost all my chest, and if I bent down, that's exactly what would happen. It had no sleeves, except for a very thin strap holding the whole dress on my body. It was definitely not my style, but it had to do for tonight.

As I kept preparing myself, I could hear people getting on the ship and going lower deck, towards the little saloon that we had. I couldn't help but to hear Jackie and the Captain speaking to each other, quite loudly actually. They seemed very excited. I love Jackie with all my heart, but sometimes she just can't hold her tongue. Once, she sold off all our plan to the Royal Navy and it ended up bloddy. Of course, is not the same situation, but still, I should get there fast.

I put on my classy shoes and exited the cabin, rushing downstairs. As I went down the stairs I slowed down in order to analyze the room. The music was loud, the room was filled with laughter and bottles were being lifted everywhere. I gently strolled down the stairs and heads slowly turned to watch me. There was a lot of whispering and a few shy whistles were heard here and there. I couldn't help but feel embareased and I quickly tried to find a distraction. I ran my eyes along the room and grabbed a rum bottle lifting it up while flashing a smile.

"TO PIRACY!" Excited screams and clincking bottles where heard from everywhere. Soon, other things were heard. "To money, to power, to women, to a good fuck" and so the saloon was filled with laughter and music again. I could help but to notice a tall man, speaking loudly at one ot the tables as a small crowd gather around to hear what he had to say.

"...and so he stared at me in the eye and said "I bet you could do that blindfolded" and so I did" A few gasps were heard as Julian finished his story and leaned back on his chair.

"Did you really walked on a lake of piranhas blindfolded?"

"And with your hands tied?"

"Sure did" He grabbed a cup and started chugging on it.

"Now that's impressive" He chocked on his drink as my voice reached his ears. He immediately put his drink down and sat up straight.

"Captain (Y/L/N)! How delightful to see you! Oh my, you are absolutely stunning tonight. Looking like a real mermaid" He tripped on his own words as he tried to talk to me. Maybe it was the drinks, or maybe something else.

"So, tell us more about your many dangerous adventures" I sat down opposite to him, slightly bending over the table and watching his gaze fall down to my cleavage "I like a little danger" I grinned.

"How funny, I, um, I can't think of any more stories right now. How odd" He cleared his throat "Well,well, I'm gonna get some fresh air, if you don't mind" And then he left, hands shaking and ears turning red.

"You know he's into you, right?" An old lady said to me, probably part of his crew.

"What do you mean?"

"Haven't seen him behave like that in a long time. And we've been on the same boat since he wore diapers"

"Since he- what?"

"Doesn't matter. Go after him, kid" She gave me a daring smile and patted my shoulder.

"How impolite, I haven't even asked your name" I extended my hand to greet her.

"Mazelinka. And I know exactly who you are. Now go, you're wasting time" She shooed me away from the table and I left the lower deck going outside and feeling a soft and salty breeze on my face.

I felt the bottom of the dress swerling around and it tickled my legs a little. I liked that feeling. I couldn't help but to do a little twirl. It was definitely a change for me to wear something like this and I was a nice change of scenario.

"I think I changed my mind. You look more like a fairy than a mermaid. And yet, your beauty exceeds all others"

Julian was leaned against the mast and only turned his head to look at me. His coat was off and his hat was far back on his head, exposing his whole face and the front part of his hair. He wore tight black pants with a white loose shirt tucked in it. What a sight.

"I can say the same for you, Devorak. You look absolutely stunning under the moonlight" I lifted my eyebrow at the sight of his red cheeks by using his own compliment against him.

For a moment, the only things that could be heard were the sound of the waves hitting the boat, my shoes hitting the wooden floor and our clothes dancing in the wind. I positioned myself in front of him and stared at his face. He tried his best avert his gaze from my face, but I grabbed his chin and made him stare at me.

"You're making me confused, you know. You flirt, you get me all worked up and then you just shy away. What do you want from me, Captain?" I stared deep into his eyes.

He started to mumble nonsense and I couldn't help but to chuckle. He was so shy and yet so bold. I remembered Mazelinka's words and did something on impulse. I moved my hand from his chin to the back of his neck and pulled his head towards me.

He was definently taken by surprised, since he didn't move for a few seconds. But eventually his bold side took over and he grabbed me by the waist, pressing your bodies together. I could feel the temperature rising and the kiss was getting more and more intense. His hands dared to explore more of my body and eventually ended up on my ass. I let out a little gasp that made him chuckle. He forced my body to the side, exchanging positions and pressing me against the mast.

"You have no idea how much I wanted this" He muttered as he slowly kissed your neck.

"I can make things even better" I pushed him, making Julian tumble backwards. My intention was for him to think he would fall but at the last second feel the starboard hit his back. But instead, his feet got tangled in some rope and his body changed the course towards an small opening on the boat. He was actually going to fall.

I rushed to him, the dress making things more complicated, and held a rope attached to the ship with a hand and his waist with the other. He looked absolutely terrified but after realizing he wasn't actually going to fall, he stared laughing and so did I. What really wasn't expected was a loud caw behind me. A crow's caw. I got startled and lost my balance, making me let go of the rope and making both of us fall in the direction of the sea.

It was a matter of instants before we could feel the cold water surrounding us. The dress made it harder to emerge, but I managed anyway. When I got my head out of the water, Julian was already there, almost out of breath, laughing.

"Wait, you're not...angry?" He looked at me, still laughing.

"Are you serious? Why would I be mad? I'm having a nice time with a beautiful girl and now things just got more interesting."

I started to laugh with him and swam closer to his body, embracing and kissing him again. Since we were out of breath, the kiss didn't last very long before we were almost passing out for lack of oxygen.

"We should swim back. We might catch a cold" He agreed with my statement and we both raced back to the docks, shivering, and then entering the ship again.

We were greeted by Jackie who had a very mischievous grin on her face and her hands laying on her hips.

"Having a good time, Captain?" She failed to hold back a giggle.

"Absolutely" As I passed through her I managed to whisper "Make sure we are not disturbed, please...until morning"

"Aye aye, Captain" And with that she left.

I guided him to the cabin and after getting in, I discreetly locked the door. Even though I had warned Jackie, that was always someone who had a complaint or some gossip and decided to tell me on first hand. Better safe than sorry.

"Soooo...what do we do now?" He was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring at me like a wet dog.

"Well, I had some ideas in mind" I waltzed around the room, putting out the fire on most of the candles, leaving the room very poorly lit "First, we should undress"

I turned around and, even if the room was almost as dark as the night, I could sse that Julian was blushing. I laughed and grabbed a bucket from the floor, extending it to him.

"Our clothes are wet. Unless you wanna catch a cold, you should undress. Then I'll give you a blanket and maybe we can chat. How does that sound?"

"Marvelous" He grabbed the bucket and turned around. I grabbed another bucket myself and turned around as well.

As the clothes left my body I felt a cold breeze rushing through it and a chill ran down my spine. A soft moan left my mouth and I heard a grunt behind me. A tall mirror was close to me, in an angle that allowed me to see the naked body close to me. He had his clothes off, except for his trousers and his hand was laying on top of a bulge on it, gently stroking.

I couldn't help but bite my lip. It was wrong to watch him, but he looked so helpless and fragile. So needy. He let go of his erection and threw his head back, slightly turning it to the side. It was a matter of seconds before our eyes met in the mirror. I smirked at him and he did the same, with red painted on his cheeks.

I turned around and so did he. Our naked bodies, only covered by our undergarments facing each other, and for a moment, neither of us knew what to do. I stretched my arm and my hand cupped his cheek. His head leaned agaisnt my hand, like a puppy seeking for comfort. I ran my hands through his hand and gave it a small tug.

His lips parted in pleasure and I knew exactly what he liked. I pulled his head so that we could be on the same level and kissed him hard. Soon, his not-so-shy hands started to rub circles on my waist, gently pressing our bodies against one another's.

"Come. Lay with me" He just nodded eagerly and let me guide him to the massive bed covered in red silk sheet underneath the thick fur of the blankets.

I pushed him into bed and appreciated the sight. I've lost count of how many times he had blushed, but he still managed to keep the cherry color on his cheeks. His skin was pale and his chest was covered in hair. He was biting his lips so hard that I though they would start bleeding soon. I knew exactly what he wanted and deserved. And I was going to give it to him.

I left him waiting on the bed a little while longer and walked graciously to the nightstand. Opening the drawer, some items could be found inside. Rope, a piece of red cloth and an expensive massage oil I had acquired during one of my trips. Just what I needed.

"Now this is what you're going to do for me. You're gonna sit on the bed, rest your hands on the headboard, spread your legs, and be a very good boy"

He followed every one of the commands quickly, and soon, his wrists and ankles were tied to bed, his mouth had a made up gag and I was sitting on his lap, naked.

I reached for the oil and slowly opened the bottle, dripping its content on my hands. I placed the bottle on top of the nightstand and rubbed my oily hands over my body. I started at my chest, rubbing circles on my breast while staring intensely into the captain's eyes. They were begging me to touch him. But not yet.

I ran my hands lower and spreaded the oil on my things, each one on the sided of his body. Every now and then I brushed my fingers lightly against his sides just to tease him a little bit. Seeing him squirm under my touch was very pleasant, I had to admit that.

After the front part of my body was shining with oil, I decided to take some pity on the pirate and lossened up the cloth wrapped around his mouth, making it possible for him to talk properly.

His mouth was wet and red, a little swollen, probably from biting on his lip. Which was exactly what he did again, running his eyes over my body, also licking his lips on the process.

"Please let me touch you. I'm begging, please" He lunged forward, being restrained by the ropes, only inches away from my face. He had a desperate expression on his face.

"Not now, bunny. But you will have your time soon. Right now" I slided my hands down his chest "I wanna have some fun with you"

I leaned down and trapped his bottom lip between my teeth, pulling back a little, forcing him to come along. I placed my hand on his neck, and the other one gripped his underwear, pulling it down skillfully. He hissed as a cold breeze hit his region, making it stiffen and rise a little.

I used the little portion of oil left on my hand to rub him down, earning back a chocked moan from his throat. I stroked his shaft up and down in a painfully slow motion, making him buck his hips in response. I chuckled a little and my mouth traveled to his neck, giving it soft nibbles and slight butterfly kissed. I trailed my tongue along his chin, and a little bit lower, trying to find a soft spot.

When he groaned I knew I had found it. I bit him right on the spot and he moaned pornographycaly. His wrists kept trying to break free, which made me realize just how desperate he actually was. He just had to take it just a little while longer.

I braced myself on his shoulders and stared deeply into his eyes as I pushed him into me. We never broke eye contact, even as we started moaning, our mouths hanging open and I staterd to bounce on top of him. The only option he had to relief a little of his heat was to buckle his hips as hard as he could, slamming himself into me. I had to hold both my hands on his shoulders to keep myself from falling of his lap.

The pleasure was way to intense, and I just couldn't take his pleading eyes anymore. I leaned back to untie his ankles and he thrusted his hips firmly up, making me almost loose balance and scream of pleasure at the same time. After his legs were free, I started working on his wrists, which was hard given he hadn't stopped his work down there.

Not even after two seconds after he was free, he embraced my back lunging forward and sitting with his knees pressed against the bed, holding me close to him, like our bodies were one. He still thrusted into me, our means mixing together and we stared at each other's eyes. He kissed me deeply and laid me softly on the the bed. Finishing himself inside of me. I finished soon after and he detached himself from me and pulled me to his chest, caressing my back and planting a soft kiss on my forehead.

"You're beautiful. And I mean it. You're special. I want to be with you" I looked up at him, a soft and genuine smile forming on my lips.

"I want that too"

///

Six months later, your belly was starting to get heavier. You felt a soft pain in your stomach and let go of the ship's wheel, but a pair of firm hands came from behind you and used one hand to hold it and the other one laid on top of your baby belly.

"I told you many times already," He kissed my cheek "go back to bed. You need rest"

"Rest my ass. I'm still capable of running this ship. I'm no less of a captain just because I'm pregnant"

"I know it, darling, but the ships now has two captains for a reason. When one isn't available or not feeling well, the other one takes over"

I sighed. There was mo point on arguing with him.

"I know, bunny, I know. I'll go, okay?" I kissed his hand and strutted to the deck, encountering Mazelinka on the way.

"How's that baby mama going, huh?" She gave you that smile you loved.

"Actually, better than I expected. Some occasional pains, but it's part of the process, I see it now"

"Very well, that's good. Julian told me to keep an eye on you. Now off to bed" She pointed to the captain's cabin.

I groaned to her in a pleading way but she kept her posture. I walked grumpily and she followed right behind. I pulled the sheets and laid down, eventually trying to pull the sheets, but I couldn't reach it because of the belly. Mazelinka grabbed the sheets and covered me, giving me a kiss on the forehead.

"You're a strong woman. You'll be a strong mother too"

And with that, I fell asleep, content.

Author's note: I loved doing that one, and I loved to see that at least one person liked it and asked for more. Thank you for your support 💞

#julian devorak #julian x mc #julian x apprentice #julian x reader #julian x you #julian imagines #julian imagine #pirate!julian #the arcana smut #the arcana imagine #the arcana #pirate!julianxreader #pirate!juliandevorak

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Wonderwall Chapter 7

Keanu Reeves x Reader A/n- Sorry if this chapter feels like it goes on forever but I refuse to extend it yet again. 

“I don’t believe that anybody, feels the way I do about you now”- Oasis.

December 1st

The restaurant is buzzing with life. Also, it’s a little colder than I anticipated, making me rethink my decision to forgo sleeves. I’m wearing a black mini cocktail dress with designer heels and very dark make-up. Compared to most of the other patrons, I feel a little over dressed, I’m meeting my friend’s girlfriend.....sort of girlfriend....whatever she is, not dining with royalty.

I’ve been at the restaurant for a little over fifteen minutes, the thin heel of my shoe tapping impatiently against my shin. We agreed to eight, but here I am at seven forty five, already ready for my second glass of wine.

Thankfully though, I’m by myself, I would have hated for this to be a double date. Jacob has gone to Colorado to meet with his family and I’ll join them next week as we make last minute preparations for the wedding. For my wedding. It’s hard to believe that I’m actually getting married in two weeks. I always thought I’d be more excited, and these days, every time I think about meeting Jacob down the aisle, it feels like something is missing. Like I’ve forgotten something hugely important and that I’ll only realize it when it’s too late. I hope that’s not the case, the last thing I want is to feel regret on one of the most important days of my life.

“You look so cute with your hair tucked behind your ear,” Samantha giggles as she proceeds to do just that before settling back into the passenger seat. We’re on our way to a restaurant in Manhattan, she’s going to meet Y/n for the first time. She looks nice tonight, her hair is curled and she’s wearing this cute pink shift dress with white flowers. 

Comfortable silence continues for a while until, through the corner of my left eye, I notice Samantha fidgeting in her seat, wringing her fingers. Maintaining one hand on the wheel, I put the other on her bare knee, squeezing affectionately, “You okay over there?”

She looks over to me, smiling tightly, blue eyes wide with unspoken worry, “Yeah,” she huffs the quickly shakes her head, “No. Not really.” Before I can ask what’s wrong, she’s telling me. This is one of the things I like about her, she says what she’s thinking, uncomplicated. “It’s just, what if this doesn’t go well? I mean, she’s Y/n Y/l/n. Mega famous movie star with awards and millions of fans. And she’s gorgeous! Like Vogue magazine gorgeous. You know she’s been on the cover right? Twice!”

I do know that. I was there for the second shoot and I have copies of both at issues at my place in L.A. In a very non-weird, plutonic way of course. “I know,” Is that the right response? I don’t know. “But it’s going to be okay,” I rub her thigh in reassurance, “Don’t be intimidated by her, she’s actually really great.”

Samantha sighs, “Of course she’s great. But she’s your best friend Keanu. What if she hates me, or sees something that you’re don’t? What if she decides that I’m no good for you.”

As I pull into a parking spot, Samantha frowns and while I don’t respond, I understand her worry. In fact, admittedly, I’m a little nervous too, because deep down, as illogical as it is, I’ve managed to convince myself that even if I can’t have Y/n, having her approve of the person I’m dating might be the next best thing. I want her to like Samantha, I need her to like Samantha. “Y/n isn’t like that. Besides, you’re right, she is my best friend, that means we have a lot in common,” Not really though, what’s that thing they say about opposites attract? “So if I like you, she’ll like you.” Great, now I’m lying to her, there’s no way I can know that for sure. “Come on,” I gently encourage her, getting out of the car to open her door, “Let’s get inside.”

Just past eight, Keanu walks in with a tall, blonde woman on his arm. She looks a few years older than me, at minimum two heads taller and very beautiful. At least my jealousy isn’t misplaced.

They approach our table and I stand in greeting. Keanu pulls me into a hug before words are exchanged and at our side, I sense that Samantha is very nervous. Am I that intimidating? When we break, He keeps an arm on my shoulder, “Y/n, Samantha. Samantha, Y/n.” 

Holding my hand out for her to shake, I chuckle, rolling my eyes, “Wow Ke, A plus for introductions,” he laughs, gesturing for us to sit and I turn my attention to Samantha, “It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve heard good things.”

She seems to sigh quietly in relief, “It’s great to meet you too, Keanu talks about you, a lot,” Samantha huffs, laughing quietly and Keanu blushes. Growing out his beard has really served him well, it usually hides the pinkness in his cheeks, but I know him well enough to look for it around his eyes.

“Should I be worried that there’s so much to talk about?” 

“Oh, god no,” Samantha waves me off, “It’s all great things. I’m a huge fan by the way.”

I laugh off her comment and try to change the topic, eventually saved by the waiter who comes to take our order. 

Things seem to be going well. Y/n seems to like Samantha, Samantha seems to like her back. I should be relaxed. But I’m not, in fact, I’m far from it. I’m either waiting for conflict or I’m about to be conflict. I don’t even know what that means.

My foot keeps tapping the marble floor, though its inaudible, my hands are sweaty and I think I’m angry, annoyed, nervous? No clue, but I feel it in my chest and it’s deterring me from eating. 

And of course, Y/n notices. “Everything okay Ke?” Have I ever said that I love when she calls me that, because I do. Some people call me ‘KeKe’ or ‘Charlie’, but no one but Y/n calls me ‘Ke’. I like it, a lot. It just falls off her lips like she’s meant to say it. It makes me feel all warm inside, and from the minute it reaches my ears, she has my undivided attention, it’s like a siren song, and nothing can keep away from her.

Okay, maybe that was an over-exaggeration, but I swear, that’ s how it feels sometimes. Like she’s the life raft when I’m drowning.

“Keanu,” Y/n calls a little louder.

My head jerks up, my thoughts scattering like the birds do in Central Park, “Huh?”

“I asked if you’re okay,” a quick glance Samantha’s way proves that she’s intently watching our interaction, though, she looks confused, like she didn’t know something was wrong.

“I’m fine,” I assure Y/n more hurriedly than I should have. “Why?”

Y/n rolls her eyes and maybe if she didn’t look so concerned, she’d be smiling, or making a joke about how I’m never paying attention, “You’re doing that thing with you’re face,” she explains, frowning.

“What thing?” What thing? I don’t have a thing. 

“Like you’re staring but not seeing. That face you make when you’re uncomfortable, or annoyed. It goes either way really,” she shrugs, but looks at me expectantly, awaiting a response. 

Samantha is staring too and I feel oddly under pressure, as if I’m going to burst into to flames right this second. Without warning, I stand from the table, pushing my plate away a little. “I need a smoke,” I announce, walking off towards the side door.

The night air is colder than it is in Los Angeles and the ally way near the restaurant is heavy with moisture. As the door swings closed behind me, I fish a pack of cigarettes, and remove one, holding it between my lips as I search for a lighter.

There should be one in my right pocket, but because the world is somehow against me tonight, I can’t find it. I probably look like 5 kinds of idiot, grumbling to myself as I try to find a lighter that I clearly don’t have, “Fucking-”

“Need a light?” A familiar female voice interrupts. Y/n. When I turn, she’s standing near the door, holding out a little silver lighter. 

Huffing a laugh, I step nearer to her, bending a little so the tip of my cigarette can meet the open flame. “Why do you always have a lighter?” I take a long drag before blowing the smoke away from her, “You don’t smoke.”

“Do I have to smoke to own a lighter?” Her tone is light and teasing, and just for a minute, things feel as uncomplicated as they did a year and a half ago.

“You know what I mean,” despite my inner protests, I go to lean against the suspicious looking wall.

“Well,” Y/n begins, coming to stand next to me, leaving about half foot of space between us, “I always have a lighter, because my best friend is a smoker.”

I chuckle quietly and Y/n does too. I miss having moments like these. Not necessarily in a dark allies, but the ones where it’s just us, where the rest of the world doesn’t matter and we can just be. “Do you remember when you tried to get me to quit?”

Y/n laughs a little louder. It was after we had known each other for about a year and she was repulsed by the idea of cigarettes. “You’re filling your lungs with tar,” is what she had argued, yanking a pack from my hands. “Obviously,” Y/n giggles, “You went through a pack of nicotine gum in a day and drank so much coffee that we had to stay up all night watching reruns.” 

“Correction, I stayed up all night. You fell asleep at like, one am,” I point out, earning myself a louder laugh. She looks so good when she’s happy. Not that she doesn’t always look good, it’s just that when she smiles, everything seems brighter. 

“Well, I’m sorry if you can’t handle caffeine,“ Y/n accuses.

“So this is my fault now?” I turn to her and see that she’s having just as much fun as I am, “I’m not the one who tossed an entire pack of cigarettes down the garbage disposal.”

Scoffing, Y/n playfully punching my arm, “I was trying to help.”

“I lost an entire night of sleep, you broke your garbage disposal and I still smoke,” I nudge her back.

“Whatever,” she giggles. After a while Y/n rubs her hands over her arms, trying to suppress a shiver. 

“Come on, we should get you inside,” I toss the nub of the cigarette to the ground, dousing it with the toe of my boot. I reach for her hand when she doesn’t move, but Y/n doesn’t let me take it.

“No,” her changed expression is shrouded in the dimness but I can tell that it’s no longer fun and games, “We haven’t even talked about what was going on with you in there.”

Oh. Without thinking, I blurt out, “We haven’t talked about a lot of things.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Y/n folds her arms across of her chest, taking another step back.

“What happened in L.A. Why you’re marrying Jacob even though you don’t love him. Everything that’s happened this past year.” The fact that we slept together but pretend that it didn’t happen. Why she was so worried about my fist when her fiancé was bleeding on the floor.

God, that night....

I had driven us to the hospital in her car. She had sat in the back with Jacob but every time I checked the rear view mirror, I could see her staring at me. Confused, lost, deep in a pool of thought. She had even talked him into not pressing charges. 

“Of course I lo-” she can’t even finish the word, scoffing defensively, “This isn’t about me,” her voice firms, edging with anger and she shakes her head, running a hand through her hair. 

I sigh, mirroring her motions, “I don’t want to fight about this.”

“Neither do I,” I breathe quietly. He’s right, we haven’t talked about everything. But what’s there to say? He’s clearly happy with Samantha and I’m getting married in two weeks so it’s too late to back out now, “I just want to know what’s bothering you. Tell me so I can fix it, please.” I hate when he does this, when he wallows with his problems without telling me. All I’ve ever wanted since we met was for him to know that I’m here for him, that I’d listen even if all he ever talked about was the same thing. That if I could, I’d fix everything, he’d never feel alone or sad, that the world would always be in his favor. All I’ve ever wanted was for him to know that I’m- no, don’t say it. If you say it, you mean it. If you think it, you mean it, and I can’t mean it.

“Why does it matter?” He asks, kicking the ground, hitting his thigh with his fist.

“Because,” I huff, “You matter to me, because I told you I want to-”

“You can’t fix it, there’s nothing to fix,” Keanu sighs again then approaches me, placing his hands on my shoulders. Just for a minute, my mind flashes back to the night we spent together. His hands were as warm and as pleasantly rough as they are now. “You’re always so pragmatic,” he smiles sadly, though its hard to make it out in the darkness, “Trying to solve every problem, thinking with your head, not with your heart. What does your heart tell you?“

“I already told you-”

“Yeah,” Keanu breaths, stepping closer. He smells like tobacco, smoke, cologne and leather, my heart says that it’s my favorite scent. “You said it’s not about you. But for me, it’s about you.”

“I don’t understand,” his face seems closer and I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t take much to just pull him into a kiss. But I can’t, if I do, it won’t stop there, and it shouldn’t even be here.

“Neither do I,” his lips quirk into the slightest hint of a smile. “Y/n,” he breaths my name, leaning down so our faces are inches apart.”

Our noses are a hair apart, “Ke,” I probably sound more frightened than anything else. I shouldn't be doing this, feeling like this. Not about my best friend. Not when my wedding is in two weeks. Not when his girlfriend is inside, waiting for us. “We should get back inside, Samantha is probably wondering what’s keeping us,” I shimmy out of his hold and Keanu seems stunned by my behavior.

“Yeah,” he nods, dropping his hands,  looking away from me, “You’re right. You go ahead and I’ll catch up.”

“Okay,” I force myself to smile, awkwardly moving around him to head back. Before I reenter though the open door, I spare Keanu one last glance, but he doesn’t reciprocate, his back is to me, head down and hands in his pockets. I want to call out to him an apologize, but I’ve already done enough damage.

December 14th

Two more days. Two more days until I watch Y/n stroll down the aisle on her father’s arm, but she won’t be walking to me. Two more days until I’ll put on a fake smile and pretend I’m happy for her. I should be, I know I should be. Everyone’s always saying that if you love someone, you’ll be happy even if their happiness isn’t you. Whoever said that has clearly never been love, because I am in no way happy. Jealous? Maybe. Sad? Definitely.

As if going to this wedding wasn’t going to be  bad enough, it had to be in the Colorado mountains. It’s cold and there’s snow everywhere for miles. The nights are much darker and the days aren’t significantly warmer. 

This morning, a guide from the resort took us skiing down the slopes near by. Contrary to my previous beliefs, skiing is not easier if you grew up playing hockey. The mechanics are completely different and now I have a bruise on my left knee from falling down so much. The best part about it was the time I had gotten to spend with Y/n. Jacob, despite growing up in this frozen over hell, does not like skiing and Samantha had stayed back at our room finishing up some paper work for her office.

The company was fun, but skiing is most definitely not something I plan on taking up as a hobby

“Hey,” I greet, strolling into our room, kicking off snow covered boots at the door and shrugging off my top coat.

Samantha turns to me, closing down her laptop, pushing her glasses up on her head, “Hi! How was the great, frozen, outdoors?”

“Very frozen and not that great,” she laughs musically and I plop down next to her. In a matter of seconds, she’s pressing herself to my side, and my arm goes around her. She might not be Y/n, but Samantha’s great. “I think it’s safe to say that this old dog is incapable of learning new tricks.”

“Aww,” Samantha coos, her slender arms going around me as she leans up to kiss my jaw, “You’re only as old as you feel babe,” she giggles.

“Well right now I’m feeling exactly fifty five,” I laugh and Samantha crawls into my lap, a mischievous glint in her baby blues, “Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing?”

“Trying to make you feel younger,” she muses, letting one of her hands slide down to my crotch as she leans in to kiss me.

December 15th

Jacob sleeps peacefully on his side of the bed while I’m sitting on the balcony, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, on my third glass of wine. There’s a knot in my stomach and a tightness in my chest though I can’t tell if it’s just pre wedding jitters or pure fright. I’ve thought about waking my mother with the issue, but I don’t think she’ll be much help. This morning, at breakfast, when I told her that I was nervous, all she could sum up was, “I don’t know what to tell you hun, I still can’t believe you’re marrying an investment banker in the middle of snowy nowhere.” 

Sometimes I can’t believe it either. I always though I’d marry someone who did what I did, or just a man who could share my appreciation for film and arts. Someone who knew how to have fun without leaving the house, who didn’t jump at the next reason to yell. A man who didn’t make a relationship seem like so much work. If I’m being completely honest, I wish I was marrying someone like Keanu.

As the thought crosses my mind, and I finish the last draining of wine from the bottle, my phone vibrates on the little end table, the screen flashing with a calendar notification that simply reads, “Wedding day.” 

It’s officially the day of my wedding and I’m not even excited. Unlocking the phone, I somehow end up in my gallery, biting my lip as I flip through the pictures I’ve taken with him. There’s so much more with me and Keanu than there are with Jacob. I’m smiling in most of them and even as I reminisce, a smile threatens my lips.

Some are from the day Keanu and I went to Santa Monica Pier, in one of the pictures, he has a couple stuffed animals under his arm; at the end of the night he had insisted I keep them. I still have them. Another is from my birthday last year. I didn’t want to do anything but he had bought me a cake and VIP tickets to a concert. We had gone together and had stumbled back to a London hotel room drunk, waking up smelling like booze and adorned with merchandise. The earliest snap is from last Christmas, when we had gone shopping together and we had taken the picture during lunch at one of our favorite spots in New York. I’m not sure how I never noticed it, but I had been looking at the phone while Keanu had been looking at me.

“What are you doing?”  I ask myself in a soft whisper. This isn’t what I want, it’s not even close. It’s....a breath stealing contrast. 

Clumsily, I stand from the chair, not even caring that the blanket has fallen to the floor. As I stand, my head feels lighter and it takes a minute before my vision steadies. In retrospect, an entire bottle of wine might not have been my best idea.

Still, though my mind is blurry, one thing is alarmingly clear. It should have been all along, and maybe it was, but I was so busy trying to do the most logical thing that I forgot about everything else. I said yes to Jacob because it made sense, he’s familiar, he stays despite my flaws and I stay in spite of his. We’ve been together for years, more on than off, marriage felt like the only thing left for us. But is that what I really want? Familiarity mistaken for love.

What does your heart tell you?

I know what it’s telling me, it’s been screaming the same thing for months, years. But every time I heard it, I stifled it. I’m in love with Keanu.

I stare up at the darkness while Samantha lies next to me, wearing only one of my shirts, wrapped up in the sheets. I’m flat on my back, trying to make out the dark veins on the oak ceiling, sifting through my thoughts. I feel like I’m always thinking, but getting no where.

Beside me, my phone vibrates and when I pick it up, it’s a text from Y/n. ‘You up? Can we talk?’

My fingers move quickly across the screen, typing a response, ‘Sure, meet you downstairs?’

‘Great.’ Her response is almost as immediate as me getting out of bed and getting dressed.

I hurry to get into a pair of jeans and a thick flannel with a jacket over it. This place is way too cold. What could she want to talk about this late? Nothing good can come from a conversation past midnight, edging into the morning of her wedding.

Pocketing my phone, I forgo waking Samantha to explain and decide to just creep out of the room before bounding down the stairs, my feet hitting the carpeted stairs in quick muffled thuds.

When I get to the lounge, which is deserted save for the both of us. Y/n’s hair is wind blown and for some reason I’m worried that she might have gone outside this late in nothing but a pair of yoga pants and a cable knit sweater. 

The pale yellow light coming from the little lamps along the walls is dim, but it’s enough to illuminate the calm, quiet distress renting her features, “Hey, what’s going on Y/n? Is everything okay?” I reach out to touch her shoulder and she wrings her hands in front of her.

It takes a while but when she finally speaks, Y/n’s voice is thick with emotion and her eyes are teary, “Ke,” she breathes, her voice breaking, “I think I’ve made a mistake.”

*****

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[supernatural---imagines]

Your Type (Dean Imagine)

hi can i please have a dean x reader where the reader is best friends with charlie and she introduces you to sam and dean (she told you about the hunting) and the reader and dean instantly have this connection and he uses some cheesy pick up line to ask her out and its super fluffy thank you sooooooooooo much you are one of the few active supernatural blogs

Dean fic where you aren’t interested in meeting the boys cause youre friends with charlie and are mad at them for ruining her life, but then fall for dean?

I dont know if anyone out there still cares but i recently found the password to this blog that i lost 2 years ago. Im sure none of you are active anymore but heres a dean fic in case anyone is? I started this like 2/3 years ago... 

“Hey Charlie?” You called to your best friend through the hall of her apartment, having just woken up from your room where you had been staying for the past few days. 

“In here!” She shouted back from the living room. You wandered in spotting the clock on the wall noticing how long you had been sleeping for. Charlie was sitting on her couch with her foot up on the coffee table lacing her boots up.

“Headed somewhere?”

“Im off to see Sam and Dean, they called this morning they need help with a case” she answered 

“Oh god not all that monster crap” You replied with dread in your voice. Charlie had got pulled into this insane life by these two boys about a year ago now. As her best friend, she told you everything and you would have thought she was mad if she hadn’t shown you cold hard evidence. You slightly despised these men. Your friend was happy, in a good job, enjoying her life for the first time in a while, then they showed up and took that all away from her forcing her to leave her life behind. 

“Yes, monster crap.” She rolled her eyes at you. “Look, I know you don’t really like the brothers, but honestly they’re like my family. You should come along and meet them, you wont have to do any hunting they’ve got a pretty neat set up and you can kick back for a few days” 

“I’m not sure..”

“They’re also both totally hot and single! Dean is so your type” She teased.

“I don’t like them, i will definitely not be getting with either of them. But ill come along for you.” You agreed hesitantly.

About 45 minutes later, you arrived at your destination. It would be so easy to miss if you weren’t aware of exactly where it is. Charlie got out of the car and gave you a reassuring smile before heading down the steps towards the door. You had expressed your nerves to her about meeting the boys in the car ride down. 

She knocked on the door and was greeted by a tall man with longer hair. A huge smile beamed across his face as he scooped charlie up in a hugged as he greeted her happily. You stood back from the door not really sure how the man would receive you. 

“Sam this is my friend, y/n. I’ve told you guys about her before. She’s been staying with me so i brought her along i hope thats ok.” Charlie explained to Sam as she stepped away from the hug and took a few steps towards you. 

“Yes of course, hey y/n” Sam smiled at you extending his hand for you to shake it. You were kind of taken back. Unless this guy is an incredible manipulative actor, he does not seem like the type of man who would have destroyed Charlie’s life.

Sam invited you all inside where his brother, who must have been Dean, was standing at the bottom of the staircase, who greeted charlie just as happily as his brother did. You took in the surroundings of the Winchesters home, as Charlie explained who you were to the other brother. It was incredible, it was a massive underground building and definitely had Tardis style architecture. You were instantly drawn to the massive world map table that was located in the middle of the room, in front of a library type room. 

Dean said his hellos to you, much less receptive of you than Sam was. You were kind of hoping he’d be just as friendly because Charlie was right, he was your type. You all sat around the table in the library for around an hour, done some quick catching up and some getting to know you before they dove into the case they were working. Charlie needed to help Sam hack into a security system as he just couldn't crack it alone, as the Winchesters needed to break into a facility to steal some weapon to kill some monster or other. You didn’t pay much attention to the details, to be honest you couldn’t as it was all still quite confusing to you. 

“I’ll take Charlie to the site tonight so she can figure out what she needs to break this, and if she can do it we will come back in the early hours and break in. Sound good?” Sam explained his plan to his brother. He nodded in agreement and got up off his seat in sync with Charlie and Sam who started to head off.

“Alright follow me and i’ll put the TV on for you in Sam’s room, food and beer is in the fridge help yourself.” Dean said before he started off in the direction of the hall.

“Umm Dean?” You called, he stopped and turned round. “I don’t mean to be rude, but this place creeps me out a little and I’m not a crazy hunter who’s not afraid of anything, so if you’re not busy would you mind staying with me?” You spoke this half truth, yeah it was true that you didn’t want to be in this place alone, you didn’t know it at all and it was quite uncomfortable to be left in someone’s bedroom. But at the same time, you could help but remember Charlie saying how Dean was single.. and he definitely was your type. 

“Look, i’m going to be honest. I don’t know you, and sometimes I don’t take too kindly to strangers. But Charlie is like a little sister to me and if you’re her friend then i guess i want you to be comfortable.” He started towards the kitchen and you followed him in. “We’ll grab a beer and... get to know each other” he said almost through gritted teeth. Yeah, he was right about not being the most welcoming. 

You sat down at the kitchen table and Dean set down a beer in front of you before he went off down the hall and came back with a cassette player, and stuck in an ACDC tape. You smiled and expressed your love for the band, and once you began talking music, Dean started to relax a bit. You talked for around an hour, and the previously off standish Dean had started laughing and joking. He explained a bit more about hunting and how he met Charlie.

“I’m going to be honest Dean, once you came into Charlie’s life everything got a little but fucked up and I kind of hated you both a bit for it..” You brought the laughter to a halt.

“Believe me, no one hates us more for that than ourselves.” Dean said bowing his head. You regretted bringing this up. He took a swig of his beer after shaking his head a little, clearly this was a hard subject to deal with. The whole time you were hating them for ruining Charlie’s life they were hating themselves 10 times harder, you had never actually considered that they never ever wanted to do that. 

You reached your hand across the table and placed it on top of Dean’s. The many beers you’d put away giving you the confidence to touch this magnificently attractive man in an attempt to comfort him. He brought his eyes to yours suspiciously, not understanding what was going on.

“I didn’t mean to upset you” You started to apologize when he snatched his hand away to fish out his phone that was vibrating in his pocket. 

It was sam explaining Charlie can hack the system with everything they have with them, and Sam is going to go in alone tonight, then they’ll stay in a near by hotel and will be back in the morning.

“Looks like it’s just you and me tonight kid” Dean remarked, finishing off his beer. You smiled to yourself, you’d come to quite like this man and a night of just you and him didn’t sound too bad. 

An hour later you found your self in Dean’s bedroom, however not in the way you had hoped. You were both sitting on the edge of his bed watching Batman. Somehow you ended up on the topic of this film and how long it had been since you both seen it, and it just so happened Dean had the DVD. 

“I’m sorry..” you interrupted the film “I know you like batman but MAN am I rooting for the Joker so hard right now” 

“You’re a horrible person” Dean said sarcastically 

“Oi!” You yelled, gently punching his arm to express your annoyance at his comment. He nudged you back instantly on the shoulder pushing you backwards onto the bed. You yelled out his name with a laugh and pulled him down with you, wrestling around for a minute before he pinned your wrists above your head and the smiles both faded from your faces. He was leaning over you, his eyes searching in yours looking for permission to kiss you. You leaned up slightly and he brought his lips to yours, kissing you passionately before letting go of your wrists to trace his hands over your body. He melted into the kiss as his hands felt every inch of you, sliding up your shirt to feel your breasts over your bra. You grabbed the back of his neck forcing him to sink even deeper into the kiss. He paused and pulled away from your lips, as his hand moved away from under your shirt and lingered on the button of your pants, as he looked into your eyes. You smirked and nodded your head at him before he undid the button and ripped them off you. 

The next morning you were woken at 6am by Dean’s alarm, you groaned as you rolled over to smack it to shut it up. You looked beside you and saw a half awake Dean, who was completely naked under the blankets, with messy bed head and an annoyed look on his face from the screeching alarm. Beer bottles, snack wrappers and a whiskey bottle were littered over the floor. As you sat up your hangover suddenly became apparent to you as you moaned a little before forcing yourself to get out of the bed.

“Mornin” he grumbled as he picked up a pillow and put it over his face and rolled over. You laughed to yourself and got up, throwing on Deans plaid shirt and your underwear. The smile didn’t leave your lips as you put the clothes on, the memories of last night spent with Dean was one of the best you’d had in a long while. 

You left Dean to sleep a bit longer, and walked out of the bedroom making your way to the kitchen to find coffee. You didn’t notice Sam and Charlie sitting down with some breakfast before it was too late, they’d spotted you in the older Winchester’s shirt and no pants. “I told you he was your type” Charlie giggled, erupting laughter from Sam as your face turned red from embarrassment. 

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