#i had a stroke trying to write this
dick: english is a difficult language. it can be understood through tough thorough thought, though.
wally: you need to stop.
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early life shit for the monsterverse genderbend kaiju in my au
i feel like I've gotten to that stage where I can start talking about this😳
Early life shit about Godzilla:
Leiko Jira was born to Lennox and Goma Zilla(née Jira) in Sacramento, California. Her dad worked as a swim teacher in some elementary school in California. When Leiko was 1, she and her parents mover to the UK. Unfortunately, her mother couldn't get a job there since she didn't have citizenship there so she worked as a stay at home mom and always watched Leiko. And since her dad was originally born in the UK, he got a job as a waiter there. When Leiko was 6, she and her parents moved again to Japan where she was raised for the rest of her childhood. At age 15, she got involved in her first battle with Hiroyuki and Felicity Muto. After that, she then fought Phoenix Muto and won that battle. She then became queen of the monsters. When Leiko was 16, she came out to her parents as pansexual. Her parents were accepting and proud of a pansexual daughter.
Early life shit about Ghidorah:
Nikoletta, Ichiru, and Sandra Chuzyy were born to Ean Harödihg and Gelsya Chuzyy on Planet X. Their mother gave birth to them when she was only 17. Ean and Gelsya broke up when they were babies due to a seemingly small disagreement that ended up in them never getting back together for some reason. When Gelsya was 21, she fought Mizuki Jira and lost the battle. Gelsya and her kids then moved to Japan to have a better life and meet more kaiju. As they were kids, they met Godzilla and Rodan. They all became friends, until Godzilla and Ghidorah got into an argument that ended in a battle. Ghidorah almost won twice, but ended up losing in the end.
Early life shit about Rodan:
Rosarío Fuegodemo was born to Francisca Fuegodemo and Diego Volaro in Tulum, Mexico. Francisca got pregnant with Rosarío at 17 and gave birth to her at 18. Both of Rodan's parents got disowned by their parents after they found out about Rodan being born. Before she was born, Diego didn't want the baby and broke up with Francisca, but then eventually learned how to be more caring and took part in being a father. Francisca and Diego only remained friends afterwards. Growing up, Rodan was bullied which eventually ended up in her and her mother moving to Japan at age 5, where she met Godzilla. They later became best friends. At the end of Godzilla's battle with Ghidorah, Rodan got a job as being Godzilla's assistant.
Early life shit about Scylla:
Scott Anóteros was born to Pallas and Cristal Anóteros(née Madmalde) in Sedona, Arizona. Cristal and Pallas always wanted a kid but no matter how hard they tried they couldn't have one. Until one Summer day when they weren't even thinking about trying again they conceived unexpectedly. Scylla was raised in and out of the USA and Greece. He would spend Elementary school months in the USA and seasonal breaks in Greece and sometimes the USA. He spent holidays with his Greek family and American family. When Scylla was 12, him and his parents moved to Greece with her paternal family. and attended Middle school and High school in Greece. Scylla was bullied sometimes for being partially American until her bullies got suspended for it. In highschool, a girl named Galatea Agaítos developed a huge crush on Scylla. She confessed her love for him, but unfortunately he didn't like her back. Galatea still loved him, so she went to a guy named Cirilio to get a love potion to make Scott love her, but then Cirilio got jealous of Scott and his looks so he convinced Galatea to love him instead but she refused. So, Cirilio developed a potion to turn Scott into a monstrous human by pouring it into his bathtub and it worked. When Scott bathed, he turned into a m flonster. He still appeared as human, but he looked terrifying. This brought Scylla into depression. Eventually, Scylla became happier with his new looks and made the best out of it. After Scylla graduated, he moved back to the USA and got a job as working under Godzilla and Mothra's reign
Early life shit about Methuselah:
Mette Das Älter was born to Enzo and Edelene Al Qadim(née Das Älter)in Baghdad, Iraq. Mette moved to Canada as a newborn and was raised there. Enzo is Canadian but is of Iraqi and Israeli descent. Enzo and Edelene met as teens after Edelene's family immigrated to Canada from Germany. They soon fell in love, got married, and then had Mette. Enzo worked as a teacher and Edelene created a homeschooling community for a living. When she was 6, her parents had another child and named her Barbada. Mette was a good older sister to her and had a unique bond. When Mette became an adult, she got a job as working under Godzilla and Mothra's reign.
Early life shit about Behemoth:
Marelaine Botânero was born to Walter and Marisa Jardinero(née Jardinica)in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Marisa worked as a piercer and Walter studied as a botanist. Marelaine decided to take in her father's footsteps and become one as well. She knows basically everything about plants and gardening. When Marelaine became a teen, she started noticing she had affections for both boys and girls. She didn't wanna tell anyone, making her a closeted bisexual. She secretly had a sexual and romantic relationship with another girl that ended when she got a job as working under Godzilla and Mothra's reign.
Early life shit about Barb/Queen Muto:
Bowen Muto was born to Omar and Quentina Muto in Bohol, The Philippines. Omar and Quentina weren't even together when they had Bowen. They knew each other from school and were kinda like friends until one night at a teenage christmas party they just did it and conceived unexpectedly. Quentina was only 15 at the time, making her a teen mother. Quentina's mom, Nancy, almost disowned her because of this but then accepted her as a teen mother and became a better mom. When Bowen was 2, him, Quentina and Nancy moved to the USA. Quentina met a man named Andrew and they fell in love. They later got married and had a child. Andrew also has 5 children from his previous relationship. After the death of Hiroyuki, Felicity, and Phoenix Muto Bowen was crowned king of the mutos and ruled over them until 2018 due to depression from relationships he was in. Bowen then found a better life on Monster Island, though he didn't really like anyone there. He did meet Mette though, and he developed a huge crush on her.
girl help my backspace isnt working
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shit went down
there was also a fifth chapter that i didn't post about because i update this a lot and i don't want it to be all i post about, it's pretty filler, spot gets mad and specs has a mental breakdown, the usual. but check it out if you haven't maybe.
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Amethyst twins(+ Red Berly w/antlers)
83 as an ‘e-girl’ and 84 as a ‘soft girl’ (opposite twins)
I love Red Beryl now
(the gems have no gender but I kept on thinking about this)
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yall i just found out one of my family friends is best friends with one of my best friend's family friends
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A Sea’s Worth
Quick disclaimer: I haven’t written anything in a story-telling format thingy in more than 4 years, cuz the only things I’m used to writing are analytical essays and research papers, so please bear with me. Prolly cuz its been so long since I’ve written anything for fun, and I’m at an emotionally stable phase of my life rn, I’m rlly struggling w how long it actually takes me to write anything, and how I should move on to actually writing the emotional side of things... soooo (n its so awk sharing my writing cuz ik im not a strong writer, but this plot has been in my head for too long n I just need to let it out)
Haru and Rin met on an unsuspecting, storm-filled, tear-stricken night, amidst turbulent waves (and Haru fell in love, at first sight).
A thin veil of clouds covered the moon on a restless ocean night. Deep in the cove, a single, frail, worn-out fishing boat twisted and turned violently in the bellowing sea. Wave after wave of salty, tempestuous water lapped onto the sides of the boat. And the washed out, fading yellow paint on its shell threatened to break free while the boat forcibly danced with the waves, as the sea unleashed its fury.
The deck that had previously carried the prize of the day’s harvest was now an inch deep in water. Salmon and mackerel drifted out of their assigned fishing nets, abandoned.
The owner of the boat, a skilled, experienced fisherman, was heaping bucketfuls of water from the deck into the ocean. At any slower pace, the small fishing boat would sink due to the heavy pour from the heavens, before it could even topple from the waves attacking its sides.
The fishing boat found itself amidst a sea storm and the man was desperate—his son was abroad with him.
“Rin get down from the deck!”
The child shrieked as another wave crashed into the boat, and from its sheer strength, the boy was tossed, a ragged-doll, into the monstrous sea beneath him.
Cold water seeped into his lungs as his arms dangled and flailed helplessly above him. He had just learned to swim this year, but the numbing, harsh sea was uninviting—a stark contrast from the lukewarm water of his pool that had gently guided him through the strokes he swam.
He tried. He really did try.
Oh was he desperate to swim even a millimetre closer to his father and his boat. And oh how he wished to return to the events of this morning, before he threw a tantrum, and before his father promised, in an attempt to soothe his anger, to bring him along on a last-minute fishing trip.
But, time waits for no one, and the sea is relentless.
His stamina drained out as he embraced the cold, crashing water. The clouds had engulfed the last spec of light the moon reflected. The sky, a deep hue of murky green, blended into the shoreline and he could not see but could taste the droplets of the stinging, salty water falling from his bangs.
For god knows how long he surrendered himself to the waves, succumbing with each punch and push as the waves crashed down on him. He was thrown into the water, mercilessly, until his father’s screams and his own were mere whispers across the horizon.
At this point, a strange, serene peace had settled in him, as if death had finally courted him, and he had accepted the inevitable.
So, with one final thought of his mother, father, and the stroke called butterfly he was supposed to learn on Monday, Rin closed his eyes and sank.
Chapter One - Flying the Coop
A/N: This is not edited. No one but me has read this disaster. She's a bit rough, as my writing has a lot of rust to get off. If I ever misspell a Pokemon's name, please let me know! I hope you enjoy :)
A couple things to know:
My shiny new ass was dumped in the Galar region.
I decided to become a Pokémon photographer (thank you Pokemon Snap)
Arceus has a weird sense of humor, and decided that I needed to be able to understand Pokemon too.
To be more clear on that last one. I can understand a Pokémon’s thoughts, only after I’ve been around them for 12 hours. (I legit timed it. Gotta be scientific on these things ya know?)
So on top of adjusting to Pokémon being flesh and blood, I also had to adjust to this ability.
Weirdly enough, it took me a shorter amount of time to adjust to the notion of mind reading pokemon. The real trick was not suddenly having an open conversation with them in front of other people.
Adjusting to Pokémon existing and within my physical reach, well…let’s just say that’s a continual work in progress.
It’s been about four months since I’ve been reborn in this world. In that time, I met Constable Jenny (who is a total badass), Nurse Joy (an absolute sweetheart) and worked at the supply store in Motostoke.
One of the biggest adjustments to being in this world was their open hearts and minds.
When I strolled into the store and said, “Hi, my name’s Cam, I don’t have any memories and no money. Do you mind if I work here for the bare minimum?” Sullivan, the owner, thought I was nuts.
He dragged me off to the nearest doctor, called in Constable Jenny, and immediately offered me the use of the spare room above the store. (Since the store was built into the Pokémon Centre, I thought that wouldn’t go over well with Nurse Joy, but the woman didn’t even blink. Just said she’d help me find clothes and whatever else I might need for necessities.)
He also, of course, let me work in the store. And you would be amazed at what their economy considers the minimum wage.
So in no time at all, I’d saved up enough to acquire a Rotom Phone/Pokédex. (And yes, the Rotom living in my phone was the first Pokémon I was able to read the mind of.)
If you thought having little, funny quips back and forth with Alexa, or Siri was enthralling. Try having hour long conversations with a Rotom via texts and a monotone computer voice, because you were searching the internet about this world’s education system. (They legitimately consider Pokémon training a trade career. So sending their kids out into the world at age 10, is their idea of a trade education. If the kid changes their mind, they can enter into a regular school and figure out their next career from there. Rotom had to play soothing music for me, since I was having such a hard time processing this.)
The month after that, I was able to afford a (previously owned) compact laptop. The month after that, I was able to buy a good quality (second hand) camera. Again, you’d be surprised. People take amazing care of their electronics here, and their recycling program is top notch. Having Pokémon to help with certain processes really makes a difference.
The moment I came into possession of my camera, I sent my two weeks notice to Sullivan. He promptly asked me why I needed to give two weeks? I could just consider that day to be my last, and they’d have a going away party that night. (Rotom thought I’d had a stroke, since I ended up staring at my phone for a good 10 minutes upon reading that.)
The party included Constable Jenny, her Growlithe, Nurse Joy, her Chansey, Sullivan, and his other employee, Jason.
Jason is a hoot to work with. He’s funny, and the customers love him for his Pokémon puns. More than once I’ve had to step away from the counter, just so I could try and be able to breathe again after laughing for so long. (He’s also absolutely in love with Raihan, and would legit murder anyone that says anything bad about Raihan in front of him.)
Despite the small group, it was exactly the kind of send off I needed. Especially since it let me learn about alcohol in this reality. You know the berries you can use for making curry, and healing your Pokémon? Well those things are spectacular for drinks.
Pecha berries = Pecha bellinis
Sitrus berries = Sitrus hard iced tea
Oran berries = Oran vodka
I felt a little bad for Growlithe and Chancey. They were a little more than exasperated by their human’s drunken silliness.
That night I learned that Constable Jenny is a karaoke fiend, and there didn’t even need to be a karaoke machine present. The woman just loved to sing.
Nurse Joy is incredibly clingy, and cuddly. Apparently Sullivan and Jason knew this, cause they were entirely unphased by her sitting in their laps and nuzzling into them. Sullivan just patted her on the head, and continued talking to Jason about that day’s sales.
As I enjoyed my Pecha Bellini, I had Rotom take some pictures. Tomorrow was going to be real scary, and I wanted to have this moment saved for encouragement. (It also didn’t hurt to have something embarrassing to wiggle under Constable Jenny’s nose.)
All in all, it was a wonderful evening.
“You have your travel stove?”
“Your charging cords for the laptop, and camera?”
“Tent, clothes, sleeping bag?”
“Yes to everything. Sullivan, I’m good. I’ve got absolutely everything packed.” I reassured him for what felt like the thousandth time. I wasn’t upset with him though, if anything, it warmed my heart.
If anyone had dad material, it was Sullivan. In only four months, the man had more or less adopted me.
When Constable Jenny confirmed that I existed in no database whatsoever, Sullivan helped me get registered as a Galarian citizen. (Which cost him a pretty penny, and I absolutely planned to pay him back. He just doesn’t know it.)
He’d scold me when I’d get out of line, he’d make sure I was eating properly, and on more than one occasion when a customer didn’t take “no, thank you” for a reply to a coffee invitation, he’d appear and not so subtly scare them off.
Sullivan tapped his chin, a sign that he was trying to remember something. I re-adjusted the well-used, but still good, camping pack I’d bought off of Jason. I was practically dancing on my tip-toes in anticipation to get out the door, but I owed it to Sullivan to give him an extra minute.
“Ah yes, that’s right. You need some of these!” He hurried over to the shelves and grabbed a handful of items I couldn’t see, as he’d had his back turned to me and blocked my view.
When he came back, he opened his palms to show me five pokeballs and one premiere ball.
(You know how you get a free premiere ball with every purchase of 10 balls? They have so many boxes of them stashed away, it’s a wonder they don’t just sell them in bulk.)
Not once, in the four months of my time being here, did I ever consider going out and catching a Pokemon. Sure in the game it's expected, and necessary to complete the story. But coming from a world where that wasn’t part of the every day normal, the concept just seemed so foreign. My brain was still latched onto: carriers, leashes, and crates.
“I know you’re not setting out to be a trainer, but there are a lot of Pokemon out there that wouldn’t think twice about attacking you. It would make me, Constable Jenny, and Nurse Joy, and even Jason, feel a lot better if you were to have at least one Pokemon with you.” Sullivan tipped his hands forward, letting the shrunken balls roll to the tips of his fingers.
After four months of training to handle store goods, I reflexively rushed forward and caught the balls in my cupped hands. I gave Sullivan a thin lipped scowl, “That was dirty.”
Sullivan laughed and patted me on the shoulder, “But it worked.”
I tucked the Pokeballs into the side pocket of the bag, (yes the Ball compartment. It’s a real thing. For the record, their knapsacks are scientifically weird. I have a LOT of things crammed into this bag, and there is still plenty of room. These bags would give a physicist nightmares.) “I’ll see what I can do about catching a Pokemon, but I can’t make any promises. You know how I am around them.”
Sullivan nodded his head, his expression somewhere between concerned and exasperated.
Remember how I said I was still working on adjusting to Pokemon being real? Well, imagine being one of those people that gets really excited when they see dogs walking around outside with their owners. Now imagine you ignore the owner completely, and just throw yourself at the dog to coo, cuddle, and gush over them.
The amount of times I’ve been burnt, zapped, kicked, and drenched has been well documented. (Sullivan was keeping track on a white board in his office.)
Over the course of four months, I’ve been able to reign myself in just enough that I don’t immediately throw myself at the Pokemon anymore. I’m able to hold back, right up until they look in my direction. And then that modicum of self restraint is obliterated.
Some trainers found this amusing, and others were a bit thrown off, then Sullivan would explain my “amnesia” and then they’d become sympathetic. There were the odd Pokemon trainers that would be downright offended, and regardless of being told my “condition” would demand I be reprimanded. (No matter what universe you get reborn into, there are always going to Karens.)
I took hold of Sullivan’s hand with both of mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “Don’t worry. Knowing that these will be wild Pokemon, I’m certain my survival instincts will kick in. And I’m going to keep to the roads as much as possible. Pokemon don’t approach the roads too often, that’s what Constable Jenny told me.”
Sullivan squeezed my hands back, relaxing, “Yes, I’ve heard the same. That does make me feel a bit better.” He took in a deep breath, and forced himself to relax the rest of the way, “Alright, I have faith in you. Just send me a text when you can, and if you get into any trouble-”
“Speak with your cousins in the other shops.” I finished for him.
(Just how all the Constable Jennys, and Nurse Joys are related in some way. So are the shop owners. The things I’m learning and that will never be shared with the public back home. Such a shame.)
“Okay, okay, point made.” He held his hands up with a chuckle, “Go on, and have a great adventure.”
Needing no other encouragement, I spun and dashed out the door, “Thanks Sullivan, I promise you get first dibs on all my best prints!”
My excitement and eagerness lasted right up until I reached the Corviknight taxi area.
Corviknights are MASSIVE. You already get that impression from the games, and shows. The big ass crow pokemon can carry the back seat of a taxi cab after all! But seeing that Pokemon on the TV screen in either 3D pixels, or 2D pixels, does not help you prepare for that encounter.
I will admit, my four months in Motostoke has been very limited in exposure. Partly due to my own social anxiety, and mostly due to Constable Jenny worrying I would be a public menace to the local Pokemon residents…...Smart call on her part.
I got about ten feet from the taxi, and came to a screeching halt. I don’t mean that as an exaggeration either, my ankles were screaming at me with how sudden I’d stopped.
The driver, of course, took notice of my sudden stop and immediately understood, “First time seeing a Corviknight up close?”
I nodded, my eyes glued to the big birdie. Big, murder birdie, stared me down just as intently.
He went over to his partner, and affectionately stroked it’s chest, “Don’t worry about Corvi. He’s a big softie, and a very gentle flier for first timers. Where will we be taking you today?”
I at least had an answer for this. I’d been planning out the start of my photography career for the past two months, and there was one place I was very eager to see right off the bat.
“I’d like to go to Turfield please.” I was very proud of how confident I sounded in my answer. Even as I made a wide, circular path towards the cab and as far from the Corviknight as possible.
Did I want to try smothering my face in it’s chest feathers? Yes, yes I very much did.
Did I want my eyes pecked out of my skull before I could even take my first field photo? No, no I did not.
“Turfield it is!” The driver opened the cab door for me, and I all but threw myself into the seat.
As soon as the door closed, I whipped out my phone and furiously texted Sullivan, “I just succeeded in not tackling my first Corviknight! :D See! I’ll be fine!”
Somehow I got the sense that Sullivan was debating on laughing, or popping an antacid upon reading my text.
I watched through the window as the driver mounted into the saddle on Corviknight’s back, and Corviknight lifted off from the ground. It’s black steel covered claws wrapped around the grips on the top of the cab, and my stomach flopped in my stomach as I felt the cab become airborne.
Think of the sensation you get when an elevator goes up, and add a touch of motion awareness from when you’re in a roller coaster. How the car rattles on the tracks, leans into the turns, and is completely out of your control. That’s what riding in a Corviknight taxi feels like.
Watching Motostoke shrink beneath me lodged a small lump in my throat. I was actually doing it, I was heading out on my own to see this new world I’d become part of.
when death knocks on your door
Angst/Fluff [18+] | Spencer Reid x FEM! BAU! Reader
Summary: Some trauma tears people apart, while some brings people together. SSA Doctor Spencer Reid and SSA Doctor Y/N Y/L/N is brought together by the death of SSA Emily Prentiss.
Word Count: 3,13k
Warnings: based on the Ian Doyle/Emily Prentiss character arc so some spoilers for s6-s7. talks about death (a lot of it), mention of drug use, allusions to depression, attempted suicide (nothing graphic), mention of cancer & car crash, a few curse words, description of smut, its very vague (one part only), mentions of therapy, HAPPY ENDING (i am not a monster)
Writer's Note: Hello! A bit of a heavier topic on today's fic! I picked apart the whole Emily arc and this is written basically in the reader's perspective. I love writing angst but I can never end it with sad endings. So I hope you still enjoy it! 💛
GIF is made by yours truly. Its surprisingly hard to find "purple shirt + sweater vest spencer reid" gifs.
Death comes in different shapes and forms.
For Spencer, he has seen it up close with Haley and Hotch, but never with someone in his family or close group of friends. He sees death in the form of abandonment, in ways when people leave him and a part of him goes with them.
For you, you were familiar with death. Death looms over you. You’re father dying when you were younger and then you’re mother in your teens.
Death comes when your father was killed in a car accident involving a drunk driver. It was fast, in a blink, death sweeps him and takes him. All her father’s life and dreams gone in a second, with a crash.
Death comes when your mother was diagnosed with cancer. Cancer, the fucking bitch, takes her time. It was slow, like it was enjoying the pain. It takes and it takes till its taken everything and the last thing it has taken is your mother.
And death comes when it takes Emily Prentiss. This was your best friend, partner in crime and roommate. Her death wasn’t fast, it wasn’t slow, its painstakingly in the middle while you try to get her blood off your hands while sobbing in the SUV as Derek drives way past the legal speed to get to the hospital.
In her death, you find yourself being swallowed by something that you were not. Something bigger, something you can’t describe. The team sees this weeks after she has been buried. You were the same person, and you were a different person, all at once.
One night, when death was about to knock on your door as you hold a knife to your wrist, ready to meet Death, ready to tell him off, it is then when chance knocks on your apartment door.
Spencer is at your door, a sobbing mess with three bottles of dilaudid clenched in his hands. He stumbles in your new apartment avoiding the piles of boxes unopened. You just moved, not being able to sleep in the apartment you and Emily shared.
“I am sorry. I-I am sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know where to go. JJ was... busy and I am so close... so close.” Your heart softens at how desperate he looks, Spencer doesn’t know how strong he is to you, being able to ask for help when you were just about to end it all.
You take the bottles from him, setting it on the counter as you guide him to your couch. He clings to you as you both sit on the couch, crying and sobbing.
“Death is among us. Avoiding him is what makes us stronger." You whisper to him and he cries harder.
Something is so bitterly comforting when someone shares the same pain you are suffering. It hurts, but in a funny way, it hurts less when some shares it with you.
So you cling to Spencer as he does to you and you let it all go. You cry as much as he does as he holds you and as you hold him.
You both wake up the next day, with a full 8 hours of sleep, something you both have not had in weeks.
“Thank you.” Spencer whispers and you smile, stroking his hair, “Thank you.” You say it back at him.
You were sure that Emily is laughing at her grave. I had to die for you to finally make a move on your crush. You shake her voice off your head. Now is not the time for silly crushes.
It becomes a routine, finding comfort and safety in each others presence, Spencer almost lives in your apartment. His toothbrush sits on the cup besides yours in the bathroom counter, his clothes takes up half of your closet, his books scattered on the shelfs and his cups on the kitchen counter.
You tell yourself its platonic. Spencer tells himself its platonic. The team doesn’t say anything, only thankful that you were reverting back to your old self and Spencer is getting better.
You want more. It was hard to admit to yourself. But you wanted more with Spencer. Your little crush now growing into something bigger than yourself. You wanted futures full of him and what you have right now is not right. Shared trauma is not love.
Three months into the set up of him basically living in your apartment, you suggest therapy for both of you. You are a Doctor of Psychology and you know the percussions of what you’re doing.
Spencer is shocked but he understands. This was your territory, Spencer knows that this was the right thing to do so he agrees. You lay out all the options to Spencer, all the therapy and how both of you should change your routines more often.
It works. He stops sleeping on your bed every night (he still comes tho, just on the harder nights where he needs to hold you to remind himself that death has yet to take you).
You have breakfast together every morning, using it to comfort each other rather than sleeping together every night. It works.
The therapy helps you both as you both move on from Emily’s death. That is until seven months later.
Declan was missing. You’ve let the Emily case go but Derek has not, you know this and you let him. Every time you want to do something to help Derek catch Doyle, your doctorate that hangs above your couch stares back at you, like it was taunting you. You studied this, moving on was the better choice and you know it. No amount of killing Doyle would bring back Emily, no amount of it would make you feel better.
That is until Hotch gathers the team on the conference room.
“Everybody have a seat.” Hotch instructs. You all look at each other. Spencer looks at you as if asking if you knew what’s up but you only shake your head.
“Why?” Morgan asks, looking around.
“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team. As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her—“
“What?” You squeak out. Hotch holds his hands up, asking you to hear him out first.
“She was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know and she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.”
Spencer can see how your face pales. He reaches for your hand under the table and gives it a tight squeeze. You return the squeeze, finding comfort in his touch.
“She’s alive?” Penelope asks, tears now forming in her eyes.
“But... we buried her.” Spencer says, like its a fact. Like its the solid truth. Your hand clamps down harder on his.
“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone had any issues, they should be directed to me.” Hotch says and all you can do is look at him, not able to believe anything he is saying.
“Any issues? Yeah, I got issues!” Derek’s loud voice now looming over the room.
“Oh my god.” Penelope squeaks making the whole room turn around. You turn around and you see Emily walking to the room. Your hold unto Spencer tightens, as if checking if he is real, you want any sign that this is not a dream, that this is real.
“I am so sorry. I really am. Not a day went by that I didn’t want to...” Emily explains.
Death comes and it takes, and it takes, and it takes but never has Death give someone back to you.
Emily was standing in front of you. The woman whose blood stained your hands for days, the woman you buried, the woman who’s grave you cried on for god knows how long that Derek had to physically carry you away from her grave and here she was breathing and hugging the team.
She comes in front of you and you still haven’t let go of Spencer’s hand.
“Y/N?” She says, it comes as a whisper. A whisper, coming from the ghost that has been haunting you for months. She opens her arms for a hug and you let go of Spencer to hug her.
She was real, she was solid and she’s hugging you back. So why, in the mountain of emotions you are feeling, why is happiness in the bottom of the pit? Why is anger the one screaming in your heart?
You pull away, and she hugs Spencer but as soon as she lets go, Spencer captures your hands again. Emily sees this and smiles, but doesn’t say anything.
“There’s so much I want to tell you guys, and I will. I promise. But right now I really need to know what’s going on with Declan.” The team continued to discuss Declan and Spencer holds unto your hand like its his life line. You only break apart when the team has to work again.
He gives you one look as he separates away from you, “I got you.” He says, kissing your temple before leaving to go to the interrogation room.
That was enough to calm you down.
The team gets Declan back safely and after all the trials, you finally had a moment to breathe.
“Hey, you doing good?” Spencer asks. You nod. He looks good, he looks like home in a purple shirt and sweater vest.
“Do you want to go home?” He asks you. You want to shout but you’re my home! You nod and he takes your scarf from your desk and wraps it around you.
“Let’s go?” You smile at him as he wraps it around you. It felt so domestic, so familiar.
You walk together to the elevator, leaving the BAU and all the piles of emotions that you’ve been through this past few days. As you both stand in the silver tin box, you see your reflection with him standing beside you, his arm around your waist and your head on his shoulder.
You wanted to scream how much you love him. But the voice in your head screams back, he doesn’t love you! It’s shared trauma! You shake your head and Spencer sees this.
“You okay? How are you feeling?” You smile up at him, as he looks at you with all the worries that a person can hold for another one.
“Yes, I am good, Spence. How about you?” He smiles and kisses the top of your head. “I am good. I just need time to process some of the things that has happened.”
Spencer drives you both home. Spencer doesn’t take the word hate lightly but Spencer hates driving. He still drives tho, for you. Holding your hand while he drives with the other, while you were staring out of the window, just watching the places blur by.
Death waits on your door and when the right time comes, it will knock. When it does, you can’t turn it away or send it away. When it knocks, it sweeps you off your feet, leaving no time for goodbyes or regrets. Ironically, Spencer walks you to your door, opening it for you and even taking your scarf off for you.
Your heart almost grows twice its size and you can feel yourself bursting in its seams. You find yourself closing the door, as if trying to block Death away from him. He smiles at you and something bursts inside of you.
“I love you, Spence.”
He drops your keys on the bowl on your hallway and he smiles, teasingly. “I love you, too, Dr. Y/L/N.” You smile but you shake your head.
“No Spence, I love you. With my whole heart... I mean, of what’s left of it. W-we need to stop, if this is only a shared trauma for you. I can’t be that... because... I love you and I want futures with you. Any kind of it, as long as you are there, every morning with a cup of hot coffee for me. If that’s not possible, we need to stop. Because my heart...” You hold unto the edge of the table for strength.
“My heart... is not strong enough to lose you and love you at the same time.” Spencer stares at you, confused with a certain spark in his eyes.
“W-why are you saying this now?”
“Because death is at everyone’s door. Emily is lucky. But what if it takes me tonight, or tomorrow? I don’t want to die without telling you that I love you.” You say, bracing yourself for the impact of the rejection.
Spencer walks to you, holding your waist to steady you.
“I love you, more than anything in this world. I have love you even before Emily died. This isn’t shared trauma, it’s been love way before that. If it's anything, it made my love for you grow deeper. You... helped me heal. You pushed me to go to therapy. You made me stronger, Y/N.” Spencer holds your face and brings you into his arms and you clung unto him as he hugs you.
“I love you... I love you so much.” You whisper to him and he hugs you as close as humanly possible.
Spencer lets go of you but cups your face to lift it closer to his face. Spencer kisses you like it was the last time you can ever kiss him. It felt like a fever dream you once had. The fire of the kiss fills in the cracks in your heart, slowly but surely healing it all at once.
Life, the direct opposite of death, has always been hard to describe. Death was easy to describe for you but Life? it was a struggle. But with Spencer kissing you, as he holds your hand and your face, so tenderly like you were going to break, you finally realize what life is supposed to be. It felt good being alive, it felt good to be breathing.
You and Spencer sleep together for the first time that night. It is in one word, unbelievable. It was as if the universe has planned it all along to teach you what it felt to be alive, as he pushes himself inside you, whispering nothing but sweet praises and promises of futures together in your ear. You wake up, hours after making love, tangled with him and the bed sheets, with you in his arms.
“I love you.” You whisper to him, brushing through his hair as he sighs to your touch, snuggling more to the crook of your neck.
The morning comes in a breathe. Easy and fast. You wake up earlier than Spencer, untangling yourself from him to make him his daily morning coffee.
A knock comes and it almost makes you drop his mug. Looking up at the clock, it was only 7 in the morning. The thought disappears as another knock comes. You open the door and today life offers you Emily Prentiss.
“Hey, good morning.” She says with a smile, you give it back, still not used to seeing her, alive.
“Hey.” You smile looking at her as you let her enter.
“Pen said you had my boxes.” She looks around on the apartment. “Its not here. Its on the garage downstairs. Do you want it right now?” She nods. “Oh. Uhm, the team actually helped me move it there, its a little heavy...”
“Okay... I’ll get the team to help me later.” You nod but don’t say anything and the silence is so loud, it’s deafening.
“Can we talk?” Emily asks, in a gentle voice. Almost like she’s talking to a toddler. You shake your head. “We can, but not today... I need to process some things first and I need help with it. We can talk this weekend, after my therapy.”
“Therapy?” She repeats. You nod. “Therapy.” She bites down her lips, you know Emily enough to know that she feels bad about it.
“I know it’s not your fault, Em. I understand, but I just... need time. I... buried you. I cried on your grave and for months, I had to accept the fact that you were... dead.” Emily nods, opens her arms for a hug and you gladly accept it.
“I’ll give you as much time as you need. You are my bestfriend and I love you.” You nod and hug her tightly, reminding yourself that she was alive, and that was what’s important.
The hug was cut short when Spencer comes out of your bedroom half naked.
“Spencer?!” Emily almost screams as she pulls away from the hug.
“O-oh... I-I didn’t know you were here...” He says as he slowly backs up the door and picks up a shirt to wear.
“When did this happened!?” Emily is definitely losing her mind now.
“Uh... Last night?” You said, not exactly sure as to when it started. Emily’s mouth drops in surprise and Spencer can only smile at her offering her a cup. “Coffee?” Spencer says with a smile and a shrug that makes both you and Emily laugh.
Emily doesn’t stay long after that, opting to leave the two of you to spend some time together. Spencer and you end up in the couch, huddled together in a huge blanket you both knitted together with cups of coffee in hands.
“So... Are you officially moving in with me?” Spencer looks down at you. The steam of the coffee colouring your cheeks a bright pink colour.
“Do you want me to?” He asks, smiling at you. Spencer loves you, in ways he didn’t know he possibly can and he’d give you anything you want. You could ask for the stars and Spencer would build a rocket just to get a few to give to you (even if he knows it was impossible because, well, stars are made of gas.)
“I want you everywhere. You... are my home.” You say softly, as your hands caress his cheeks.
“Then, I am moving here, love.” He says as he kisses your forehead and you lean unto him as you wrap the blanket tighter around each other.
“I love you.” He says as you lay your head on his chest and he brings you closer to him. You smile and whisper it back. “I love you more.”
Most people say that time heals pain. It, truthfully, does not. Love does, love in the corniest way possible, mends your soul in ways that are not physically possible.
When Death knocks on your door it will be in different shapes and forms, but so will love and for you, love came in the shape and form of Spencer Reid.
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" 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐧𝐨𝐰. "
☄︎- characters: diluc
☕︎ - summary: diluc forces overworked reader to get some rest.
✍︎ - warnings: no warnings! reader is g/n as usual.
don't be shy to send a request!
(also this is my first time writing this much for diluc so I hope I wrote him correctly!)
he noticed recently that you had been staying in your little office much more often. normally he'd see you walking through the streets of Mondstadt.
he assumed you were busy with documents and paperwork so he didn't disturb you and your work for a few days.
he admires your hard work and determination but he hadn't even seen you step out of your office for a bite to eat.
diluc was getting worried about your health as every now and then when he saw you, he noticed that your eye bags were getting darker and you seemed more tired then usual.
so late at night, he decided to visit your office to try and get you to get your well deserved rest.
you heard a knock on your office door, quickly checking the time and noticing that it was well into the night you assumed it was diluc.
"come in." you sighed, looking back at the papers as your hand continued to write. "what are you doing this late at night?" you heard the door close and the voice of your lover coming towards the desk you were at. "just signing and approving some ideas for missions and such. why?" diluc was now leaning over your shoulder, his eyes scanning the papers you were looking at.
"you've been working on these for days, you should get some rest." he signed, picking up the already finished documents and flipping through them.
"but I need to get these done as soon as possible." you tried to argue with diluc, who clearly noticed your head was slightly bobbing from lack of sleep.
"you can work on it tomorrow but for now, you're coming with me." he pulled your chair far away from the desk, despite your protests.
knowing you were too tired, he carried you up by your waist and pushed your face towards his shoulder so your chin could rest on it. he gently stroked your hair as your eyes began to feel heavy.
despite the obvious blush on his face, he knew this was for the better for you, you needed your rest after all.
soon he could feel your arms relax and your breath became softer. when he confirmed you were asleep, he carried you princess style and carried you to your shared bed.
gently, he placed you down on your side, stroking a few stray hairs back, he took a second to look at your face. you looked so relaxed and peaceful right now.
once he got changed into his sleep wear, he quietly laid beside you, a soft smile finding it's way to his face. you wrapped your arms around him unconsciously. he blushed a little before wrapping his around your waist.
"goodnight my love." he muttered as his own eyes started to feel heavy, soon drifting him to sleep.
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Hello! I have appeared with Newlywed questions for Marchia and Ethan! Of course, you have to answer as them!
My spouse’s first kiss made me think ________________.
What is your spouse’s favorite junk food?
What clothing does your spouse wear that looks best on him/her?
What word best describes your spouse first thing in the morning?
Who is the better kisser?
Does Ethan prefer a bikini or one-piece swimsuit? Which do you prefer?
What do you find most physically attractive about Ethan? What does he find most physically attractive about you?
Top 3 dates with Ethan?
Is there something he doesn't know about you yet?
What is the one memory about Ethan you will never forget?
What is the destination would Marchia most likely choose for a second honeymoon? Would you take her?
What is your definition of, “And they lived happily ever after”?
What is the silliest argument you've had with her? How did you resolve it?
What do you think her first impression of you was?
Describe her using memes only (in case you don't know what does are, Dr. Ramsey, ask Marchia)
Oh wow, hello Bree! Gosh, I got nervous seeing your ask because my writings are a mess lol but I'll try my best. So here goes nothing!
(Yup, I made a cover because I’m extra like that)
1. My spouse's first kiss made me think ________________.
"Our first kiss at the altar made me think of... the future." Ethan said in a soft voice.
"Growing old together. Taking a trip around the world, even when it's practically impossible for us to find the time," he chuckled, leaning into Marchia. "Owning a small house by the beach, then retiring with her. Our grandchildren visiting us, bringing their favorite pajamas and asking their grandmother to make her signature poffertjes."
Marchia smiled softly at him, her hands reaching out to his to give it a squeeze. "One question in and you're already going to make me cry?"
"I don't intend to, love." Ethan replied.
"Well, our first kiss as husband and wife made me think of my childhood home." Marchia explained. "Is it weird?" She asked, her brows furrowed.
"It's not weird, but you should elaborate further. Bree would not understand the context, love."
"Oh right! I guess it made me think of my childhood home because he reminded me of all the love, comfort, and peacefulness of it. With him... I'm home." Marchia smiled at him.
2. What is your spouse’s favorite junk food?
"He doesn't want to admit this," she explained. "But he loves cereals."
"Reese's Puffs? Love 'em. Cinnamon Toast Crunch? He would die for them. Lucky Charms? He has ten boxes right now in the pantry." She giggled, lifting her head.
Marchia and Ethan glanced at each other.
"You're exaggerating." He said.
"You gotta own it, sweetheart." Marchia winked dramatically.
"Like you are 'owning' your addiction to cheeseburgers, that could lead to higher risk of obesity, heart disease, stroke, and early death?"
"Yes," she shoots him a playful smile. "Like that."
3. What clothing does your spouse wear that looks best on him/her?
"God, this man looks good wearing anything. You could give him a potato sack and he would still somehow look good,” her eyes flickered to him.
"Again, over-dramatization," Ethan chimed in.
"But, I would say that he looks best while he's at home, wearing that overused alma mater T-Shirt while lounging in the living room, sipping chamomile tea after a full day at work." Marchia said through smiling lips.
Ethan's lips curled.
"She looks best in her white coat, striding down the halls of Edenbrook. Though, I could also argue that she looks best while not wearing any type of cloth—"
"Ethan!" Marchia barks, her cheeks turning into a dusty shade of red.
4. What word best describes your spouse first thing in the morning?
"Oblivious." Ethan muttered.
"Energetic," she smirked at him. "Way too energetic."
5. Who is the better kisser?
"Ethan, obviously." Marchia answered confidently.
"I'm not sure if this is a compliment or not." Ethan admits, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
"What can I say? The old man has experience," she teased.
"There it is," he rolled his eyes. "The old-man joke."
1. Does Ethan prefer a bikini or one-piece swimsuit? Which do you prefer?
"He definitely prefers bikini, simply because it would be easier for him to rip it off."
"I... would not argue that." Ethan's face flushed sweet pink, his lips twitching into a smile.
"I, on the other hand, prefer using one-piece swimsuit because it prevents me from getting sunburn." She informed.
2. What do you find most physically attractive about Ethan? What does he find most physically attractive about you?
"He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks, you know?" Marchia stared at him, her eyes widening. "A combination of his ocean blue eyes, sharp bearded jawline, and his slightly wavy curls could bring anyone to his knees. But his enchanting blue eyes takes the cake."
"As for him," she paused and thought about the question. "I'd like to think that Ethan finds my charming smile to be the most physically attractive feature of mine."
Ethan grinned at her. "True. Among many other things."
3. Top 3 dates with Ethan?
"Ooooh this is getting hard, Bree!" Marchia bites down on her lip, musing over the question.
"The first one would be our pottery class date, in which he miraculously made a coffee mug while all I could make was a weirdly shaped coaster," she groaned on a laugh.
"The second one would be our trip to Providence, if you can call that a date," Marchia said. "Alan was sick and he could use some company, so we drove there, spend some time cleaning and helping him, and ate dinner."
"The third one would be our recent date to the Roger Williams Park Botanical Center! It was so nice to walk and have a picnic there."
4. Is there something he doesn't know about you yet?
"Okay," she turned her head to face him. "I'm going to come clean."
She searched his eyes before letting out a sigh. "The reason that I keep postponing your idea to buy us city bicycles is because.... I can't ride one."
Ethan stifled a laugh. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Even a five-year old could ride a bike, Ethan! Obviously I'm embarrassed."
5. What is the one memory about Ethan you will never forget?
"I will never, ever, forget the day Ethan proposed to me. But that's another story for another day," she winked, laughing easily.
1. What is the destination would Marchia most likely choose for a second honeymoon? Would you take her?
"Japan would be her pick for our second honeymoon," Ethan quickly replied. "She’s been obsessed with that lazy egg—”
Marchia interrupts, “It’s Gudetama, Ethan.”
Ethan playfully rolls his eyes, certain enough that his wife would interrupt.
“But yes, I would take her anywhere she wants.”
2. What is your definition of, “And they lived happily ever after”?
"Hrm," he paused. “Although that phrase is quite absurd, my definition of living happily ever after would be living by her side,” he replied confidently.
3. What is the silliest argument you've had with her? How did you resolve it?
"Ah," he chuckled after looking at the question. “We’re not proud of this.”
“A couple months ago, we argued over how to correctly squeeze out toothpaste.” He shrugged one shoulder as he gazed back at his wife.
Marchia tried not to laugh, but it bubbled out of her despite her efforts.
“After about an hour, we realized that we’re only having this argument because we were both tired and hungry,” he narrowed his eyes. “So, we stopped and decided to eat.”
4. What do you think her first impression of you was?
“Domineering, I presume?”
"No, it's not!" Marchia giggled out again as she protested.
5. Describe her using memes only (in case you don't know what those are, Dr. Ramsey, ask Marchia)
Marchia laughed loudly after hearing the question.
“Go on, sweetheart,” she challenged him, a mischievous smile displayed on her face.
“Is it— you know—” he stuttered, looking hopelessly at his wife. “Is it that uncanny pictures you keep sending me?”
“Let me check your messages,” he quickly opened up his phone.
“Ah, these pictur— I mean, memes, would best describe her.“
“Most of the time, Marchia looks exactly like them,” he showed off his phone, pointing at the pictures.
“And, who are they, exactly?” she covered her mouth to hide a laugh.
“Uh, you know, Jerry and....” he trailed off. “Yellow rabbit.”
That last line made Marchia laughed hysterically.
A/N: Thank you so so soooo much to @messrprongs @jamespotterthefirst for this Newlyweds question game! It really made me think a lot about their characters and how I can write them better. Seriously, I almost cried answering some of these because I love them & want to share them with everyone! Again, thank you Bree & everyone that has read my work! ❤️
Edit: I changed my mind and I wanna tag some people! Lololol sorry for being so indecisive, guys.
Tags (please let me know if anyone wants to be removed or added into it!): @tsrookie | @helloayz | @genevievemd | @writer-ish | @schnitzelbutterfingers | @maurine07 | @chaoticchopshopheart | @wingedhairstylemusicweasel | @queencarb | @adiehardfan |
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Daddy Takes Care of You When You're Sick
Summary: When you're sick, you need someone to take care of you, no thanks required. That's what Daddy is there for.
Word Count: 761
Warning: This is just sweet, comforting Daddy fluff that is SFW.
Please don’t repost my writing anywhere, but do feel free to like, comment and re-blog, I am a fragile bean who needs love and support. If you would like to be added to my tag list send me a message.
Tag List: @littlebirdofrivia @smile-sugar @ughdontbeboring @peachatori @daddys-littlewhitegirl
Master List | Support
You slowly waddle out of the bathroom for the third time, stroking your tummy. Something you ate must have upset it, but for the life of you, you can not figure out what because you haven’t deviated from your regular diet. If this was before Daddy got you on a much healthier diet, no more energy drinks at mid-night to keep going because you had to study for an exam or write a paper. No more drops in blood sugar because you had a cupcake for breakfast.
Daddy’s regime comprised healthy fruits and vegetables and little treats once in a while instead of in excess. Daddy even made you a special water bottle to help you stay hydrated. But right now? You do not know what’s wrong with your body.
Holding onto the back of the couch, you made your way around trying to move gingerly and take it easy as you settle into the pillows ago, a small shiver running through you as you pull your blanket over your legs. As you fumble getting the blanket just right, the lock in the door turns and Daddy hurries through the door.
His expression is panic, sheer panic.
“Baby, what didn’t you answer your phone? I called you four times?”
And then he takes in your appearance.
“I’m sorry Daddy…”
Absently, you look around. The last time you saw your phone it was on the couch with you, but now you can’t seem to see it. “I know I had it.”
As you lift your blanket again, it falls out onto the floor, but you just can’t summon the energy to pick it up, not that you had to. Daddy’s big solid frame moves and picks it up, placing it on the coffee table before his hands find yours and his thumbs stroke your knuckles.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Little One.”
You sniffle and squeeze his hand.
“My tummy’s upset and my back hurts.”
He nods, listening as he touches your forehead.
“And you have a fever.” Daddy says, looking around at the coffee table a moment before he stands up, kissing your temple. “Baby… You have the flu.”
The thought crossed your mind; you had a hard time sleeping last night because your nose was all stuffed up and this morning when you woke up your chest felt congested, but you hated asking for help but then your stomach started acting up.
He’s already taking over, wrapping another blanket around your shoulders before going to the kitchen. You hear him putting the kettle one on the stove and then rummaging in the icebox.
“Take this sweetheart, it will help with your fever and I’m making some tea for your tummy.”
Taking the two Tylenol from his palm, you pop them into your mouth and take a few sips of water to swallow.
“There now, Precious. Do you think you could manage some toast with your tea or would you like to wait a little longer for food?”
Daddy takes the water glass and puts it on the side table for you, where it’s in easy reach of your hand if you need it as he crouches to look at you, examining you carefully. He can’t believe he didn’t notice you were getting sick already and guilt eats at his gut seeing his baby girl feeling poorly.
“I think I’d like the toast.” You say with a small sigh.
Even with your tummy hurting you can still feel it growl and maybe putting a little something on it will help soak up whatever is in there that’s causing you to make extra trips to the bathroom every thirty minutes.
Daddy nods and he’s off again, taking out the toaster to make you some warm bread when you hear the kettle whistle. You try to make yourself more comfortable on the couch as you burrow into the blankets, leaning into the cushions as he brings you tea and toast before settling beside you, gently wrapping his arms around your shivering frame, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your arms.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
You feel him smile into your hair as he nibbles some of the toast, but mostly the tea is the best. It helps soothe your stomach and warm you without upsetting your stomach further.
“You don’t need to thank me, Precious. It’s what Daddy is here for. You just relax.”
He puts a movie on the television and for the rest of the day you stay tucked against his side, eventually dosing off with your head on his chest.
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For her, for us
2, 4, 9 11
2. What scene did you first put down?
The scene where Carol and Daryl find baby Lydia.
4. What's your favorite line of dialogue?
“Is this ok?” she asked. He swallowed and nodded but said nothing. “Ok.” She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. His hand gently curved around her hip and pulled her closer. His fingertips grazed the skin where her shirt had lifted up a little, and she felt him freeze. She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips where his fingertips brushed her skin. She hadn’t expected to be ticklish, and he moved his hand away.
“Nothing,” she laughed.
“Shit. What’d I do?”
“That tickled. I’m sorry. It’s ok,” she whispered.
“Sorry. Go ahead.”
“Nah. Just…I can go if it’s…”
“No, please stay.” She bit back a smile, and Daryl nodded. She curled her fingers into his shirt and took a deep breath. His hand was back on her hip then, and a spark shot through her. She gasped softly, and Daryl drew his hand away again.
“No. I just…” She sighed in frustration, and she pulled away from him, rolling onto her back. Daryl rolled to his side, trying to look her in the eye.
“What’s goin’ on?” Carol shook her head. “What? Tell me.”
“Do you want to kiss me?”
“Wh…” He nearly choked on the word. Carol felt her stomach drop, but the damage had been done.
“Last night, I thought maybe you wanted to. I just…” She shook her head and covered her face with her hands. “Don’t…I…just forget it.” She rolled onto her other side, and she heard Daryl swallow and then shift on his side of the bed. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, feeling her face flush with embarrassment, but when she felt his hand on her other hip, she opened her eyes, and she turned onto her back to find him leaning over her.
“Hey,” he murmured.
“Hey,” she whispered back. He stared at her for a long moment, and she trembled when she caught his gaze focusing on her lips. She brought her hand up, gently stroking his cheek, and then, he leaned down to press his lips against hers.
9. Were there any alternate versions of this fic?
So many. I stopped and started this story a dozen different times. An early version of this that I think I might have posted was Daryl finding Lydia as a toddler and Carol being pregnant with Henry. They hadn't met yet, but while Daryl was finding Lydia, Carol was preparing to give birth to Henry.
11. What did you like best about this fic?
I love the idea of Daryl being dad to Lydia. Not necessarily biological father, but being the father figure in her life. I like the idea of playing with family dynamics.
Also, adding Negan and Lucy was not something I had originally planned on, and I hadn't expected the story to take the route it actually did. I'm GLAD it went the way it did, because when I first started writing, I really didn't have THAT ending in mind. That's one of the things I loved about writing. Sometimes the stories would just take over and get carried away from what your originally planned.
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In defense of taking and sending nudes
Big budget pornographers and pretty much all advertisers have oddly similar and narrow views on sexy.
These kinds of muscles in these places. These skin colors. These eye colors. Unless we’re doing one of the exotic angles: Can you do the bear? The I-swear-this-isn’t-pederasty twink? (No judgments.) The submissive Asian? The aggressive Black top? Can you do Latin heat, papi?
And honestly, I never could.
As a kid, this would really bother me. I’d beat off to Corbin Fischer-type crap that left me feeling sexually inert, incapable of creating a sexual response in someone. I’m too dark for mainstream stroke material, not Latin enough for the fetishists. Plus, I was never in as good of shape as them. While acne and life’s other peculiarities left their marks on my skin, they somehow never touched theirs; how could I possibly think I was sexy?
I wondered how to find other young gay guys and Corbin Fischer filled the boy I was with such fears of isolation. If that’s who I was looking for, I knew they were nowhere to be found, nowhere within my experience anyway.
If you think about it, that’s a weird place to be in: desexualized, filled with sexual desire and nowhere to put it. I wonder what the fallout from that might be?
The Fall of the Power of Porn
Today, pornographers are going out of business “No one wants to pay for porn anymore.” Honestly, for me, money has less to do with it; I’m just not beating off to their videos. I don’t think they’re hot. I’m not feeling their models. I’m not feeling their videos’ shallow, surreal sexual hookups. It fetishizes sex that’s impossible to have with people who barely exist.
More shallow than Grindr? Yes. Much. Next to porn, even next to the normalizing and desexualizing mainstream gay political discourse, online dating or cruising in general is a thought-provoking and radical reclamation of sexual power.
It starts with writing our profiles. It starts with taking sexualized pictures of ourselves. It becomes dangerous and radical when we send those pictures.
They often play a role in how we negotiate sex with each other. And suddenly we’re not looking to unreal and exaggerated bodies of porn–we’re sexualizing the people we’re actively trying to have sex with as opposed to trying to push our sexual partners and sex to look more like porn.
Randall Munroe, https://xkcd.com/598/
Outside that, it empowers us to see ourselves sexually and have that reaffirmed by other people’s sexual attraction, even if we have no intention or even ability to touch those enjoying our digital depiction. Don’t think for a moment that I’m above this. People have either seen me naked or masturbated with me, people as close as down the street to some on the other side of the world. The latter case was particularly important when I was living in a part of the country where I wasn’t seen as that attractive. I could hop online and be reminded that I had sexual power, though I felt mostly powerless at my digs in Georgia at the time.
Cock blocked by sexual panic
Of course, abandoning the sexual institutions of old doesn’t mean that they’ve abandoned us. Respectability, fear, modesty, shame: they’re all hallmarks of this discussion.
Watch, by way of an example, RJ Aguiar’s Dick Pic Etiquette which in the course of only seven minutes manages an advertisement for a new dating platform AND provides a tour of heteronormative sexual pathology and anxiety. (I pick on RJ here only because I’m a big fan of his work, but what he says there echoes idiotic stuff said on national and international television by every other reputable person in news.) He alternates between classist tropes — like the idea that our sexual propositions not be exclusively sexual but also include some bourgeois notion of artistic value — to cataloging every way sexualizing ourselves could lead to disaster, including legal peril and the fear of exposure should any of our pictures stay on any networkable devices…
Me impersonating RJ safeguarding his erotic self-portraiture in one of the only non-networkable devices in my apartment.
Listening to him and other pundits go off, I’m reminded of the history of hysteria regarding sex that’s haunted us for centuries: The sometimes comical, sometimes downright horrifying efforts to prevent children from masturbating in the 18th and 19th century (Buzzfeed article, MentalFloss article); various sexuality-inspired hysterias in the 20th century like the McMartin trial (about sex abuse in education at the end of the 20th century); and the modern day paranoia about transfolk who need to pee.
Not to say that the anxieties of RJ and his hysterical kin are entirely unfounded, but it’s so easy for him and other people doing the committed monogamy thing to be terrified by the lives of people who are doing things differently. They have no skin in the game. They don’t have to cruise for sex or love when they’re horny or lonely. This fear mongering justifies decisions that they’ve already made and distances themselves from parts of their lives they’re eager to forget. Their hysteria encourages heteronormativity, encourages traditional values, encourages pursuing relationships just like your probably-miserable straight parents did and protects boring porn and a hateful ad industry.
Rejecting this sexual morality and hysteria is not always easy. That rejection threatens pillars of American society (probably only nominally). But by rejecting that we gain power over our sexual fantasies and capacities.
If you’re capable of sexual fantasy, you’re capable of sex. If you’re capable of sex, you’re capable of being sexy, of being seen sexually by yourself and others.
If you’re this far and have a camera phone, you’re a few short clicks away from me and a bunch of other deviants masturbating to you.
Relish that power.
And with it, find sex and love on your own damn terms.
Santi fell in love for the first time as a child in Georgia and for the second time as a young man in Brooklyn. Today, he lives in Miami where he’s convinced that derechistas are ready to run him out of town. Santi continues his love of photography, both in the area of auto-erotic portraiture and otherwise, on Twitter and Instagram at @uardito.
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safe in his arms, (nsfw) hawks x reader
pronouns: he/him (FEMALE ORIENTED DNI!)
warnings: nothing much other than a cumming inside it's pretty soft sex
a/n: this request is for the 🥴anon :) i always love to write hawks requests and this concept is sweet. sorry if this was too much comfort and not enough nsfw? i got carried away a little lol
keigo first proposed to you after a mission.he knelt down and said the 4 magic words. the civilians and his peers all shouting "marry him!". what reason do you have not to? he was the man of your dreams since highschool and now he's on his knees, asking you to marry him. you said yes of course and happy tears streamed down both of your faces.
what more could you ask for, you've been married to a lovely husband for 3 years and the relationship between you two was stable. no one was losing interest and everyday was filled with joy and happiness.
even though you had this perfect environment around you, the tears from your eyes would not stop falling back. being a hero is going to be hard and you knew that. things go wrong all the time. villains escape, people lose their family, some lose their lives.
today was another day in patrol where the villain escaped because of your incompetence. everyone around you said it was fine of course but you sure as hell knew it wasn't. compared to someone like hawks, the #2 hero who you were married to, you're basically nothing. you had no recognition and the only reason your name was actually merely recognized was because of your husband.
you went home after, feeling shameful that you couldn't do your job well enough. you walked in the kitchen to see keigo wearing an apron preparing dinner for you.
"hey baby, you're back! i was just cooking up your favorite food. work was hectic today right? want me to prepare a bath for you?"
seeing hawks still caring so much for you despite the fact that you didn't even do the bare minimum of what you were supposed to. praising you, cooking for you, and being considerate. you felt like you didn't deserve this but because of your wonderful husband you still did. emotions were all over the place and before you knew it your eyes felt watery. tears started to drip down and you didn't even realize it. hawks noticed and immediately put the pan down and rushed over to you.
"woah woah, y/n, what's wrong? did something happen at work today?"
you closed your eyes and fell into keigo's chest. whimpers and inconsistent hics replacing your words. hawks let out a sigh and patted your back, attempting to make you more calm. he always knew what to do, whether it was to comfort you or make you smile.
"it's alright baby...i'm here, just let it out." keigo said as he stroked your hair. he waited till the hiccing stop and tilted up your head so that your eyes met his. he also wrapped his hands around your waist as yours stayed on his chest.
"wanna tell me what's wrong? you know you can tell me anything." hawks said in a soothing tone.
you nodded your head and hawks flew to the couch with you in his arms.
"alright sweetheart, i'm all ears, what's up?"
you explained what happened today at work and how pressured you felt trying to live up to your hero name being married to the number 2 hero and all so the others won't talk down of hawks because of you. he listened patiently and made sure to hold you close to him during all of this. he took a deep breath and let out a sigh as he prepared to comfort you again.
"baby, first of all, please don't feel bad about letting the villain escape. this has nothing to do with your own capabilities, every hero in this world accidently let's villains escape sometimes, even me, even endeavor! i also never want you to worry about what other people say about me "because of you". all those pieces of shits that say that can fuck right off. i don't give a single shit about what they say, i asked you to marry me because i love you, not for some stupid hero business so in no world do you need to "live up to my name" alright?"
if you had more tears you would probably cry them out but luckily you ran out from before. you thanked hawks after feeling better and rested your head on his neck.
"you know you look cuter than usual today baby bird~" he said with a smirk on his face.
"keigo! you perv! you said while giggling.
your husband leaned in to kiss into snuggle into you. he nibbled your neck and hummed a tune into your ears. as much as you just want to cuddle and relax for the rest of the night with him, you couldn't deny the fact that hawks was looking incredibly attractive today. he always looked handsome but something about him wearing a t-shirt and the grey sweatpants that showed his bulge turned you on so much.
you found your eyes trailing to his crotch area naturally and god was it irresistible.
"where are your eyes going there sweetheart~?"
you were embarrassed that keigo found your intentions but you also wanted it, so you didn't mind.
"sorry, you looked too good, i couldn't help myself."
keigo gave you a smirk and got the message. he took your tongue to his and made out with you. it wasn't the messy type that you guys usually had. this time his touch was filled with care. his hands were wandering around your stomach and your waist, try to get you as comfortable as possible. after the kiss broke, you suggest going into the bedroom instead so the couch won't get dirty.
he picked you up with his strong arms and walked into the bedroom. his hands not leaving you the entire time. keigo took off your shirt and moved down to your nipples after kissing you some more. he knows you loved being teased like this.
keigo had you riled up in seconds. making your hard cock leak precum and you whimpering under your breath.
"k-keigo...please put it in."
"my pleasure baby." keigo said as he took off his pants to reveal the huge bulge he had.
he let out his cock and applied some lube on there before he slowly entered. he made sure to move slowly today, knowing you were tired and not in the mood for rough sex. despite hawks' slow thrusts you still felt like heaven.
your groans became more consistent and both of you knew that each other were getting close. you held in hawks for a kiss and he delivered. while kissing, hawks sped up his thrusts and stroked you cock gently. you came not long after hawks started to tend to your cock and he followed up with that by cumming inside you.
you guys stayed in that position for a bit, panting, trying to catch your breathes.
"you felt so good baby you know that?" hawks said while cupping your face.
you returned his compliment with a gentle kiss on the lips as he yet again snuggled into you.
"let's clean now alright? i'm sure you'll love the dinner i made for you today."
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🕶 🥰 🌗 💎
From Emoji Asks <3
🕶canonverse or au?
Depends. For just like a PWP one-shot? Canonverse. For a long one? AU usually. I prefer AUs most of the time because it feels like I’m just reading the author’s original work and fanfiction is just the vehicle to allow the masses to read it. I like writing AUs for that reason. So I can really craft my own worlds and just force them onto you. But I do really like canonverse fics. Like any fic about the 2017 stint when Ashton and Luke lived together? Gimme. Or, like, a fic where they feel like they have to be in a secret relationship for press reasons? God, it’s my favorite. But I like AUs, that’s my answer. I like being immersed in a new tiny world.
🥰 fave fic you’ve written?
Oh god. That’s actually really hard. My favorite fic… I have to say that it’s “Scene 14” which isn’t surprising. S14 was a several month project, she’s my longest 5sos fic, and she’s my most popular. I truly loved writing that fic… It was so easy and so enjoyable and I got to talk about acting which I never really have been able to do before! And S14 Ashton is without a doubt my favorite rendition of Ashton I’ve written. He is just… He has so much, y’know? There’s so much there with him. Because I got to write this loud and proud guy who wasn’t really all that arrogant? He was just proud, because he could be. And he was handsome and charismatic and just the most entertaining romantic lead. And then he also had the most goddamn delicious vulnerable moments… I mean, writing those scenes on the stage? They’re some of my favorite scenes I’ve ever written in anything. Because I love characters that don’t want to own up to being weak, because they’re scared of it. And S14 Ashton is terrified and refuses to show it and it’s the most fun thing to write. Also, the miscommunication I love, and the recurring themes/symbols I love… I mean, there’s so much about that fic that I’m so proud of and I really enjoy it!! I think it’s funny, I think it’s heartwarming, I think it’s got some good overarching angst to it… Overall, it’s one of the best things I’ve ever written. And I couldn’t be happier with it!
🌗 fluff or angst?
You might know this about me at this point… I’ve got a thing for angst. I live and breathe it. I yearn for it. I thrive in the throws of trauma, people. Gimme that shit. I want hurt/comfort. It’s my favorite thing in the whole world. I want a character not want to admit they’re in pain but for the other character to coax it out of them and help them through that. I want recovery fics, goddammit!! I want a character to cry and try to force it back. I want another character to stroke their hair lovingly and tell them it’ll all be okay. Where is that content?? Give it to me right now. That is an order, soldier.
💎 fave trope to write?
I’ll tell you honestly what my favorite thing to write is,,, slowly established vulnerability. Like when a character is obviously putting up walls and then they get taken down bit by bit until it’s time for a Confession Moment. I did it in “This December” and S14 and “Sleeping Pills” and I just love it. I love outburst moments, whether they be rash and violent or withdrawn and nervous. I love when a character admits something to another, something they’ve kept secret for so long and never told anyone else. Like in TD when Ashton cries at the Christmas lights and tells Luke why he doesn’t celebrate the holiday, or when S14 Ashton admits he’s never had a first time. Those kinds of scenes are just otherworldly for me. There’s nothing I love like writing them. Oh! Or when “Red Light” Luke is surprised that Ashton is treating him like a person, you know? It’s those types of scenes that really wreck me. When a character is vulnerable in a way they never have been with someone else.
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader
Warnings: mentions to break-up, cussing, fighting, reader preference to coffee
Word Count: 1,462
A/N: Song is not in order! The long awaited part is here! I truly hope that you all enjoy! There will be more! Thank you so so much for all the support and endless motivation. I’m so happy to write things you all enjoy. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! Sorry by Halsey
Summary: Bucky sees your treats and plates in the garbage while you're having a great time across the city with a certain someone.
PART ONE, PART TWO, PART THREE, PART FOUR
(gif not mine!)
Bucky sighed at the sight of Alpine sitting at the front door, meowing loudly and waiting to be let back in. He opened the door, allowing Alpine in first and following suit. The house was oddly quiet as Bucky moved to hang his keys on the key rack. Slight dread took over the man’s emotions as his peripheral vision took over, his eyes catching on an all too familiar plate. Slowly Bucky moved towards the trash, his chest tightening at the sight of not just one of your plates but multiple cupcakes and cookies you must have brought.
Bucky was coming to terms with the fact that he never deserved you. You were always too good to him, and it was things like this that proved it. You would go out of your way to bake and cook everything Bucky liked. You'd do your best to spoil him and ensure that he understood how much you loved him.
Yet, Bucky had such a hard time understanding that.
I run away when things are good
And never really understood
The way you laid your eyes on me
In ways that no one ever could
And so it seems I broke your heart
My ignorance has struck again
I failed to see it from the start
And tore you open 'til the end
Why would you love him? He wasn't anything good. Instead, Bucky was always running from good things. He wasn't a hero. He saw himself as a rogue assassin trying to make up for all the damage Bucky had caused. He was a monster, and there was no reason for you to have ever loved him. Bucky fully believed that nobody truly loved him, he would always be second to somebody else, and that's what tore you apart.
Bucky tore you down, piece by piece, slowly but surely. He destroyed your beautiful relationship and had been so afraid to admit the truth. But now Bucky had, he'd matured, grown, developed. He realized it was his fault, and all your angry outbursts were completely justified. Nobody was perfect, and the relationship was flawed from the start. He knew exactly what you would say if he spoke to you.
"It's not all your fault, Buck. We're both to blame."
He shook his head as he looked down at the plate. Maybe you were right maybe you were both to blame. But he knew he tore you apart. He knew that he could accept now that you had loved him, exceptionally and unparalleled. But how could he fix the mess he'd created? There was so much left unsaid and so much to be done. All Bucky knew was that he needed to find a way to sort everything out.
"Chloe!?" Bucky called out as he pulled out your plate.
"In the bedroom, Babe!"
His eyes remained glued to the plate as Bucky walked the familiar path to his bedroom. Bucky paid absolutely no attention to Chloe in nothing but shorts and her bra, sprawled out on their bed trying to gain his attention. Instead, the 100-year-old man simply raised the plate with a deep frown on his face.
"Is this (y/n)'s?" Bucky asked softly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the plate.
"Yea... she stopped by, brought some of those awful treats," Chloe rolled his eyes, leaning forward and pushing his chest out more.
Bucky looked at Chloe with a glare, "They're not awful... why were they in the trash?"
"Because," Chloe groaned, standing up, "She's coming in between our marriage. I, frankly, don't like her and don't see why you should pay any attention to her."
"She's not coming in between our marriage, and what is so bad about me trying to be on good terms with someone whose life I practically ruined," Bucky snapped, his tone turned dark at Chloe's disgust due to the mention of you.
"Oh please, James. Forget the damn girl!"
Bucky's blood immediately boiled. He'd spent so long being terrible to you, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let anyone else hurt you. He would spend the rest of his life trying to prove how incredibly sorry he was, and he would start by protecting you from everyone else, even if that included his own 'wife'.
'Cause I can change my mind each day
I didn't mean to try you on
But I still know your birthday
And your mother's favorite song
The conversation exploded into a screaming match. The married couple yelled continuously at one another, all of Bucky's pent-up anger finally being released. Bucky wanted you back, he felt like he needed you back. He'd started therapy. He'd cut his hair. Bucky had started to get better all for you. He was no longer the Winter Soldier, he was James Bucky Barnes, and he was trying his best to get better for you.
He knew he never should've gotten with you back then. He should've asked you to wait, wait until he was better. He was too conflicted, constantly changed back then because the Soldier had still controlled a part of him. The absolute last thing he wanted was to hurt you, yet he'd done that by himself.
But you'd always be Bucky's one love. He knew your birthday by heart and still remembered your mom's favorite song and how the two of you danced to it every Sunday morning. There was so much bad in the relationship. So much bad that you had both forgotten all of the good.
Bucky wanted to scream uncontrollably. He wanted to get as far away from Chloe as possible. Bucky wanted to run to you, confess his love and beg you to give him one more try. He was so incredibly sorry for everything and so incredibly angry, that all he could do was scream at Chloe.
And somewhere, across the city, you were walking to your favorite coffee shop, a small smile gracing your lips. Sam did wonders to cheer you up yesterday after your awful visit with Chloe. He tried each dessert you had made and dramatically reacted to each one. After the party, you'd come to terms with the fact that you still weren't fully over Bucky, but that you needed to better yourself because the routine you'd formed was incredibly unhealthy.
So now, you walked towards your favorite coffee shop with full intent on getting your favorite coffee, only to bump into a firm chest. A yelp tumbled from your lips as you tripped backward, expecting to hit the ground. However, before you could, a firm hand clasped onto your arm and pulled you back up.
"You should look where you're going," A smooth voice flooded your ears.
"I was..." You responded, your voice trailing as you looked up, "Loki?"
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on Asgard with Thor?"
You'd only met the mischievous brother of Thor once before, and it'd been very brief. It'd (of course) been at a Stark party, and Loki had been quick on his way out after the arrival of Bruce Banner. It'd been an entertaining sight to see the powerful God scared at the idea of simply being in the same building as the Hulk.
"Is there not always somewhere else to be? Can't I enjoy the existence of the midgardians?" Loki questioned, looking down at you.
You tilted your head, taking in his all-black suit before smiling sweetly, "I suppose you're right."
Loki, seemed shocked at your reaction, and frowned slightly, "I-I am?"
You nodded, offering that same sweet smile the God remembered Bucky mentioning time after time, "Why not enjoy Midgard together? I was gonna get coffee, then head to the park. You're more than welcome to join Loki."
Watching you walk away, Loki shook his head before catching up to you, "So... (y/n)... what is this... coffee?"
"You've never had coffee!?" You gasped, looking up at Loki, "Oh.. wow, wow, wow! This coffee shop is the best in New York. They have coffee, tea, hot chocolate, boba... you name it, they've probably got it!"
Loki's eyebrows scrunched at your incredibly excited reaction, and decided to go along with it, "I haven't the slightest clue what you said... but you're quite adorable so I'll trust you."
Immediately your cheeks flushed with a bright blush at Loki's compliment. Biting the inside of your cheek, you smirked at the mischievous comment filling your head.
"I'll let that comment slide, as long as you don't turn into a snake on me."
Loki laughed at your comment, realizing you must've been closer to Thor than his brother had let on, "Now, (y/n), why would I turn into a snake when I'm with someone as darling as you?"
This time you laughed, smiling widely and enjoying the compliments Loki seemed to enjoy giving, "You truly do have a silver tongue. Thor and Bucky were correct... I should watch out for you!"
Loki smiled, enjoying the fact that he'd made your ex feel threatened, "You've only missed out on fun, that I can assure."
"Well... I'm sorry I waited so long to meet you formally, Mr. Laufeyson."
"No need for apologies," Loki winked, "How about you just show me this coffee place you rave about."
"That I can do!"
Taglist: @vicmc624 @thesneakylittleminx
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WF THOUGHTS (6/16/21).
I like smart lawyers. I have a strong dislike for dumb lawyers.
There is an easy solution to my problem. Dumb people shouldn't be allowed to become lawyers.
Lawyers do work that is intellectually challenging. If a person is licensed to practice law, the public should be entitled to assume that the lawyer has sufficient brain power to handle legal matters. Doesn't that make sense to you?
I don't know anything about Kim Kardashian. I think she's one of those people who is "famous for being famous." I have a vague recollection that her fame started with a sex tape. Normally, I do some research before I write about a person. I am so monumentally disinterested in Kim Kardashian that I can't bring myself to learn about her.
I recently read that, at the age of 40, Kardashian is trying to become a lawyer. I shuddered at the thought.
Kardashian is not attending an accredited law school. It's possible that she couldn't get into an accredited law school. The more likely explanation is that she deemed herself too important to go to law school.
She's trying to become a lawyer in California. In California, there are two possible ways you can become eligible to take the bar exam if you haven't gone to an accredited law school. One route involves attending an online or "unaccredited" law school. The other route involves an apprenticeship with a licensed lawyer. Kardashian is trying the "apprenticeship" route.
The State of California apparently shares my dislike for dumb lawyers. For good reason, California had concerns about the intellectual capacity of bar applicants who did not attend accredited law schools. To weed out dumb people, California created a special exam that is commonly called the "Baby Bar." The formal name is the First-Year Law Student's Examination (FYLSX).
In my book, the creation of the Baby Bar was a stroke of genius. When a nontraditional potential lawyer has completed their first year of study, which means that they've completed about 33% of their legal education, the candidate must take the Baby Bar. If you don't pass the Baby Bar, you're not allowed to become a lawyer in California. It's "game over." California doesn't directly call the failed candidates "too dumb," but that's the point.
California clearly wanted to be fair to dumb people. It allows candidates to take the Baby Bar three times. If you fail three times, you're shot at a legal career is over. If you fail three times, you're probably pretty dumb.
Kardashian was in the news recently because she recently failed the Baby Bar for the second time. A perfect score on the exam is 800. To pass, you need a 560 (i.e. 70%). Proving her intellectual deficits, Kardashian claimed that she almost passed on her first attempt when she scored a 474 (59%). On her second attempt, she dropped to a 463 (58%). She'll undoubtedly fail on her third attempt, and the citizens of California won't have to worry about another dumb lawyer.
Please don't misconstrue my message. I have nothing against dumb people. It's just a fact of life that certain people aren't suited for certain jobs. If you're a smart person who struggles with math, you shouldn't try to become a nuclear physicist. If you're a very fit 300 pound person, you shouldn't try to become a ballerina. If you're 7 feet tall, you shouldn't try to become a jockey. Dumb people shouldn't be lawyers.
We all make fun of "wacky" California. This time, California is 100% correct. The Baby Bar is a great way to keep dumb people out of the legal profession. Kim Kardashian is now the poster child for dumb people. I guess she's so stupid that she didn't see this embarrassment coming. No surprise. She likes to be on posters, doesn't she?
Nightmare - Felix Volturi
Headcanon requests: Open
Imagine requests: Closed
Taglist: @aro-is-gay-af @vamp-army @raindancer2004 @like-rain-or-confetti @volturidoll13 @kpopgirlbtssvt @avyannadawn @alexavolturisblog @alecvolturiswifeforever @imaginetwilight2704 @develin13 @marcusofthevolturi @wallwriterstuff @volturiwolf
Just a cute fluffy little Felix imagine cause someone had reminded me of this dark Marcus fic where my favourite tall boi was just eeeeviiiiil. I needed the fluff.
And yes, I can still write fluff without it getting smutty :3
Word count: 782
I woke up gasping for air. The room was and clammy and the warm breeze coming from the balcony did little to cool me off. My hand patted the other side of the bed, trying to find my mate only to be greeted by empty silk sheets.
“Fe?” I asked softly, not sure where my mate was and getting slightly worried. The nightmare replayed in my head as I shot out of bed and ran towards the bathroom. Maybe he was taking a bath or a shower, something he liked to do after a long day of training guards or after some though executions. I turned on the lights in the bathroom, only to find it empty as well. I was really getting worried now. He had no mission today, in fact, Aro had given him a few days off since he just returned home from a two-week long mission in Portugal. So it really made no sense to me as to why he wasn't here with me right now. I quickly made my way to the balcony, trying to catch any of the non-existing breeze to calm myself down. It was the middle of August and Volterra was exceptionally hot this time of year. Felix loved it, as it meant he could hold me close to him without any restriction things such as our clothes or the sheets brought with them. We could comfortably have skin on skin contact, something the gentle giant seemed to crave the most anytime he saw his mate.
I sighed as I grabbed my long hair and pulled it up, letting the sweat on the back of my neck damp away, giving me a slight feeling of cooling off. My thoughts and my heart, however, had not stopped racing. I was worried for my mate, something Marcus had told me would only increase as soon as I was changed. Not really something I was looking forward too. Don't get me wrong, I could not wait to start forever with my giant mate by my side, but I also knew how important he was to the Volturi and to the peace in the world. If my anxiety was this bad as a human, I dread to think about how much worse it would be as soon as I was a vampire.
Suddenly, two strong, cold and bare arms wrapped themselves around my small frame as I was pulled into a naked, cold chest. I sighed out in relief at the cool feeling to my heated skin.
“Piccolina, what are you doing out of bed?” a lovely deep and rough voice asked me, whispered it in my ear. I closed my eyes and fell completely against my mate's chest.
“Had a nightmare.” I muttered as I turned around in his embrace, burying my face in his chest. Felix frowned and stroked my hair as he pulled me even closer.
“What was it about, Piccolina?”
“You. Someone killed you and there was nothing I could do.” I whispered, almost ashamed.
“Piccolina, nothing can harm me. I promise.” he whispered as he kissed the top of my head.
“I know, I know. It is silly I have these dreams.” I replied as I kissed his chest softly.
“Dreams? You have nightmares like that more often?”
“Yeah. Usually when you are not near or away on a mission. Marcus explained it most likely has something to do with us being mates.” I said, shrugging my shoulder again and trying to lighten up the mood. “I am sorry, Piccolina. I had no idea my absence caused your nightmares.” he buried his face in my neck, gently kissing along the vein that runs down it and resting them against the bitemark he gave me after the first time we made love. For a vampire, a bitemark from a lover was the ultimate form of showing you belong with someone. He had been over the moon when I had given him permission to bite and mark me as his that night and any chance he had, he would kiss it, or made sure other vampires saw it by pulling collars of my shirts, dresses or jackets down.
“It isn't your fault, Fe. I can deal with it, I promise.” I said as I stood on my toes wanting to kiss him. Felix got the message and dipped down, as he was too tall for me to reach, even standing on my toes. He pulled me close and gently pressed his cool lips against mine, his presence and his kiss soon helping me forget all about the nightmare as I soon drifted back to a peaceful sleep feeling safe and secure in my mate's arms.
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The Squawking Wells
Harry Wells x Female!Reader
Summary: One of your friends ask you to take care of their parrot. You happily accept, but trouble occurs between the bird and your boyfriend..
A/N: this is going to be my first time writing something completed and posting it here.. please be kind, thank you! also just wanted to thank both @fandomdancer and @yetanotherwells for getting me into writing. ❤️
You weren’t known to be a bird kind of person. You loved animals and to care for them, but you never thought that you would actually accept to take care of a parrot. A friend of yours was going out of town for a couple days. They had asked you to take care of their parrot, Jett, during that time. You happily accepted and decided that it wasn’t going to be too much for you to handle. Yet, you forgot one thing. Your boyfriend Harry.
“Y/N, please tell me why there is a parrot in our bathroom shower.” Harry stood with his arms crossed in the doorway. You were seated on the couch reading a book.
“Oh that’s just Jett, don’t mind him.” You waved your hand, brushing off the statement.
“SquAwk!” You heard a loud flapping sound from the bathroom causing you to look over your shoulder. Harry was also facing the room, concerned. The bird came flying out, going around the room in haste, but then finally landing on the TV in the living room. He shook himself and made a sound. You giggled at the bird, while Harry stood scratching his head.
— — —
Harry had to head into STAR Labs since he had a device he had to work on over there. There was a new meta in town and of course, the man had to get to work on helping stop it. You didn’t want to leave him all alone in the Labs, so you decided to go with him along with your new parrot friend.
“Does that bird have to be in here?” Harry shook out his tensed hand. He had been working on this project for quite some time now. Not taking his eyes off his work.
“Do you not like him?” The bird shook itself causing the feathers on his head to mess up while making a sort of chattering noise. He tilted his head to the side looking at Harry.
“All I’m saying is..” The man sighed. He turned to face you. “I don’t want animals in my lab. Especially him.” He turned back around to his project and continued to work.
You giggled. “Are you jealous of a parrot, Wells?” You stroked Jett’s back softly as he rested himself on your finger.
“Jealous of a parrot! Squawk!” The bird repeated.
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose at the bird’s comment. He let his hand fall back down and he grabbed the tool he was using again. Harry scoffed. “Me? Jealous of a bird?” His motions started to become rough as he was working on his device. You could clearly tell that he was becoming agitated by the bird. You set Jett down on a metal bar next to Harry’s project, but not too close.
“I just want you two to get along.” You came up behind the man resting your head on his shoulder. “Will you do that for me?” You looked up to him with pleading eyes. He looked down at you, a smile forming on his face from your action.
“Fine. I’ll get along with him.” He turned back to his work, this time he was smiling to himself.
“Thanks, Hare.” You kissed the man’s cheek before moving back to sit on the desk opposite of Harry. You loved watching the man work, but most of the time, it was more him working, well, a bit too much. You could see Jett beginning to dance around on the metal bar. He was flapping his wings and kicking his feet up in the air once in a while. The small bird made a couple sounds here and there, repeating phrases often, mostly to himself. You hadn’t quite caught everything the little animal had said.
“Ah, alright, this device should now need a little bit more tweaking to be fully finished. It will be ready soon enough.” You nodded to the man, even though he had his back turned to you. A spark flew from the device Harry was working on a few seconds later.
“What was that?” You stood up from the desk trying to look over the taller man’s shoulder.
He stood there looking down at his work. Focusing hard on it. “That wasn’t supposed to-” Suddenly a bigger spark flew causing static to reach the metal objects around. You covered your arms over your head to shield yourself from the dangerous outburst. The electricity passed through the metal objects causing a shock to send through Harry. The same spark managed to hit Jett as well. Smoke filled the room in a short amount of time.
“Harry?” You coughed, waving a hand through the smoke to get it away from your face. Once it cleared you peeked around the desk only to notice him laying on the floor. You ran over to him in a panic, crouching down to get a better look at him. “H-Harry? Are you okay?”
You looked up to his face, it was motionless. You swore it was Harry’s voice. You were confused. You were actually more than confused at this point. Someone cleared their throat behind you.
“Over here.. Y/N.”
You turned around to see Jett on one of Harry’s tools. He had a little brown-black colored patch on the side of his feathered body from where the electricity hit him. He tilted his head at you. You stood up from the floor, walking over to the small bird.
He made a noise and flapped his wings, before deciding to groom his left wing with his beak, causing his feather to ruffle. He then looked back up to you. “I’m assuming that I am the bird.”
“You are definitely, yes..”
He sighed. “That’s just great.”
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