#to grocery shopping. like this is the lowest fucking point ever.

[mimiko-doll]

.

#mimiking #vent #now the personal storage unit is foreclosed and added a bunch of fees for it to be foreclosed #the overdue amount was 150 now it’s 570 only for them to go “yeah you gotta get your own lock #it’s funny how mom gets to complain every ten minutes about her sister putting us in this position but yelled at me for complaining about #the storage units cause it’ll make her feel how morbid our position is as if we don’t fucking feel it #like NEVER growing up did the car get repossessed. NEVER have we had multiple days where we went hungry. #what’s funny is that while keeping the store open everyday was costing more money for us to be there at least we had some kind of money to #to grocery shopping. like this is the lowest fucking point ever. #I might make a donation post or something cause my mom already considers that shit gone and isn’t wrecking over herself cause she’s lost #stuff in Katrina before. but i haven’t and the clean up guys from years ago put our dirty laundry and everything “in the way in there. #legit stuff we’ve been looking for or could sell are in there. it sucks that we moved from one unit to this one to save it for now only to #discover what’s in there. now we’re in the same exact situation as we sell my shit to make rent every month

[josephquinnswhore]

We’re Done -2-

🌂-angst (happy ending)☂️

Pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem! Reader

Summary: Eddie finds you in the grocery store & takes you home where you both make amends.

Word Count: 1.4k

Content Warning: mentions of homelessness, weight loss, attempted theft.

3 weeks, 21 days, 30,240 minutes. That’s how long it has been since you and Eddie inevitability broke up, or you dumped him. Either way you didn’t know how he expected things to workout after the amount of tension that had been brewing for weeks, most afternoons you screamed at each other; a constant battle on who could hurt the other more verbally until you snapped. You missed him, how could you not. He was your high school sweetheart and the only person to ever love you how you deserved to be loved, also the only person to ever break your heart beyond repair, you felt un-fixable. Your heart yearned for him, his touch, his smell. Your brain clung onto the remnants of him that it could remember, begging you not to forget, clinging onto the hope that you’ll forgive each other. Your mental health took a steep decline from the moment you had driven away from Eddie leaving the both of you heartbroken. Was he still missing you? Had he moved on? Was he fucking some whore in your- his bed? It’s the dirty and bitter thoughts that had remained, leaking until they left a stain on your heart. You had nothing now, you’d quit your job in the middle of a shift, your manic depression completely over-ruling your usual tolerance for how badly your manager had treated you, apparently that day you just couldn’t take the disrespect. You had become accustom to living in your car, eating the remains of the last can of beans you’d managed to make last the entire day yesterday, this morning you woke to no food, your stomach groaning at the emptiness.

You had no money and no food, desperation and an insatiable ache to fill your empty stomach overwhelmed you to the point your brain had lost all rationality. You pull up to the shopping center as you planned your next move, your moral compass seemingly flying out the window of your car as the low rumble in your empty stomach sent an ache through you that only food would fix. You rushed out of your car and pushed past someone going into the store, your shoulders butting in doing so. In your desperation you'd missed the fact that the person you'd bumped into was the very person you were so desperate to avoid, Eddie. He had never seen you like this, clothes crumpled, posture slumped, looking thinner than the last time he had seen you, your eyes sunken into your face and black bags underneath them. You looked terrible; he was worried that you were sick. He decided to follow you through the isles, and he saw you searching the canned items, food that provided no nutrients and hardly any calories, no wonder you look ill. What you did next shocked him, his eyes widening as you shove some canned beans and spaghetti into your jacket pockets, in a feeble attempt to steal the food you desperately needed.

Although your breathing was shallow your heart was racing a million miles an hour, subtly trying to shove the canned food into your jacket pockets, adjusting them so they didn’t protrude out of your jacket, looking down the aisle when someone’s hand grabbed your arm, “what are you doing?” Before staying to see who caught you, you turned to run and escape but the handheld firm on your arm keeping you from evading them. “Look at me baby.” Your ears were filled with the sweet melody of Eddies voice, looking down to the hand that held you, the unmistakable rings that sat on his fingers confirmed your thoughts. It wasn’t enough though you needed to see him with your own eyes, you looked up and met his eyes, he had certainly seen better days. His eyes held exhaustion, his hair frizzled and unkempt. He had taken this as hard as you had, and he had caught you in one of the lowest moments of you life. Before he could think he was emptying your pockets shoving them back onto the shelf, just as he threw the last can a staff member rounded the corner and looked at the two of you with suspicious eyes. He decided there was nothing going on, that he could complain about and went on his merry way, leaving you to your shame. You were lucky the weren’t cameras in this store or you’d be fucked. “Lets get out of here, got some things at home you can have ‘kay?” You nod, knowing your voice would betray you if you tried to speak. The ride back to Eddies was silent between you, he didn’t bother to fill the silence with music and you weren’t bold enough to ask him to turn the radio on. The ride didn’t last longer than 10 minutes, although that made you more anxious. You would have to explain yourself, confess your sins and he would sit silently and judge you for it all.

As you pulled up to his house, being back here overwhelmed you with emotions, your heart filled with regret for the words you spoke to Eddie, the way he begged you to stay and you shrugged him off. Your door opening snapped you out of your unhelpful thoughts, Eddie holding the door open for you extending a hand to you waiting for you to accept it, after a few moment you did and couldn’t help noticing a hopeful look in his eyes as you did so. Your fingers subconsciously picked at the red raw skin at your fingertips, trying to ground yourself to stop you from dissociating, you knew you would have to take responsibility for the part you played in the breakdown and eventual end of your relationship. Eddie opened the front door and you concluded he didn’t lock up when he left, as you sat on the lounge in your lounge room Eddie confesses, “I’ve left it unlocked every night since you left, case you needed something, or wanted to come back.” Your heart doubles in size at his confession and it’s all it takes to break down any composure you had been clinging onto. Everything you’d been feeling these past weeks had come to ahead rearing its ugly end exposing itself to Eddie, instead of running he faces it head on and pulls you into his body. Your body trembled as you sobbed, leaning into Eddie’s body for comfort that calmed you and kept your mind from going back to a place he knew would be hard to bring you out from. “’M sorry. ‘M so sorry Eddie.” Your voice muffled from choking back tears and your face being held to eddies chest. “Its ‘kay baby. I got you.” The sincerity in Eddies voice feels like a stab to the heart, he should not be this forgiving. He held you to him, rocking your body and running his fingers through your tangled greasy hair. You eventually calmed yourself down, matching his breathing and coming out of that breakdown but keeping your vulnerability open.

“You’re not lazy,” Eddie starts, caressing your head in his calloused hands demanding your eyes meet his own. “You were studying, working and had school. You cleaned up my mess n cooked me real meals. Been eating mac n cheese since you’ve been gone, and I even burnt that the first few times.” A wet laugh left your lips, using your sleeve to dry your tears. “I didn’t appreciate you enough. I deserved you leaving me, you didn’t deserve to suffer because of me. Was looking all over for you baby, I was scared something bad had happened.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before holding his forehead against yours, his nose rubbing against your own affectionately. “Do you really think this can work again Eddie, after what I said about you, I-I didn’t mean it I swear, I felt myself slipping and I lost it. You’re a smart, hardworking, beautiful man that any girl would be lucky to have.” Your lips grazed his cheek, kissing the stray tears that had fell from eddies eyes. “I know baby, things will be different from now on ‘kay, promise.” You nod and offer a small smile, believing him and knowing you both need to change to make this second chance work. “How bout I make you something to eat huh, must be starving’.” You laugh and follow him into the kitchen, “promise not to burn the mac n cheese?” he laughs, and a boyish grin met his eyes as he shrugged, “can't make any promises baby.”

#eddie munson #stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #angst #eddie munson angst #fluff #eddie fluff #eddiemunson fic #eddie x you #eddie x yn #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female character

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shadows And Pills - 1

Summary: Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all. Alexa comes away with a shadow.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Warnings: RAPE, Torture, Abuse, Self Harm, Negative Images of Psychological Services/Mental Health Professionals, Hallucinations, Stalking, Supernatural Horror, Prescription Drug Use and Eventual Abuse, Mental Illness, PTSD, Flashbacks of Violence, Flashbacks of Tragedy, Starving Oneself, Isolation, Physical and Mental Exhaustion, Denial, Self Neglect, Gaslighting, Mental Spiraling, Mental and Emotional Abuse

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This is not a happy story in any sense, at any point. I could only write this at my lowest places, emotionally and mentally speaking, and I had a hard time coming back from it. This is dark, and it does not at any point get lighter. I relied heavily on my own experiences with mental struggles and took a few pieces here and there from my own experiences with mental health professionals. MY EXPERIENCES ARE MY OWN AND ARE NOT TYPICAL, NOT EVEN FOR ME. If you need mental help of any kind, please DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT TO GET IT. This story was an exercise in mental exorcism, in a sense.

For all the Loki lovers out there, I do not shine him anything like a good or redeeming light here. He is evil incarnate, more or less. I love Loki, I love good Loki and redeemed Loki and misunderstood Loki and just about every incarnation thereof. I needed a villain, and he fit the story.

Above all, please be kind. This was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever written, and it took me years to work up the courage to post it. If you have any questions, please feel free to message me or send me an ask.

Thank you to @thoughtslikeaminefield and @glassjacket . I would not have made it through this story and would honestly not be here today with the two of you. I will never be able to tell you how much you mean to me.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Word Count: 1 - 3785; 2 - 3513; 3 - 1068

In Case You Missed It: ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

Shadows and Pills

1

Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all.

Alexa comes away with a shadow.

In the weeks following the disaster, the public equally lauds and decries the Avengers, but while their opinions are divided over the heroes, the villain is universally denounced as nothing short of Satan himself, and the city throws an actual celebration the day Thor takes Loki back to Asgard to face the justice of their people.

Alexa, having not turned on her television since the day she got home from the hospital, ignores the boisterous celebrants and goes about her shopping, earbuds firmly in place, frown lines now permanently etched between her eyes and around her pinched lips.

“Routine will help you through some of the worst days,” her therapist tells her during one session. “Something familiar and safe to retreat to when the flashbacks are the worst. Just give it a try,” he adds at her disbelieving grimace.

And so she sets a routine.

Morning Routine: wake up. Ignore alarm, lie in bed an extra thirty minutes or so. Shower. Pretend to eat breakfast. Take meds (this one she never skips or shirks). Find something to wear. Stare at it for another ten minutes. Eventually get dressed. Contemplate keys for another fifteen minutes. Leave the goddamned apartment already.

Her routine has varying results, although she does admit to her therapist that life is marginally more bearable with the routine than without.

“It’s nice to have something to look forward to for the next day.”

Her therapist can’t quite hide his grimace at her flat, deadened tone, but she’s not being sarcastic or rude. She finds that going to bed at night is a trifle easier when she knows what’s going to happen the next day.

“So, who are we up to today?” the doctor asks, switching the subject with awkward abruptness. It’s been six weeks since Hell came to New York, and during their twice-weekly meetings, her therapist suggests going through each of the people she saw die in front of her that day, to get closure...or say goodbye...or something.

Sometimes Alexa wonders whether he just wants to hear the details for his own perverse pleasure.

“Brenda.”

Alexa robotically begins to list the personal details she knows...knew...about her floor manager. Unlike the mail room intern she discussed at their last meeting, the list for Brenda goes on for a while. She’s worked with Brenda since she started at the company, learning most of what she knows about her current job from the woman.

Brenda was kind, sharply intelligent, and mothering to everyone under her supervision, and yet she did it in a way that didn’t make anyone uncomfortable. She balanced work and a family long and well enough to both receive regular promotions within the company and also, very recently, become a new grandmother.

The backs of Alexa’s eyes sting as she remembers the photo Brenda showed her not twenty minutes before part of the building collapsed on top of half the department. Her jaw locks as the scene plays before her eyes again, the explosions and shrieks of metal drowning out the shrieks of the people only five feet away.

She closes her eyes, but there’s no pause button to freeze the scene, no power button to shut the images off as she turns in her memory and runs, making it to the stairwell and slamming the door open, turning back and screaming for Brenda, straining her eyes through the smoke and dust and mountains of falling debris. Brenda is running, reaching for Alexa even though she seems miles away, and then one of the file cabinets is thrown over, propelled faster and harder than should be possible, and...and…

And then Brenda isn’t running anymore. Her outstretched hand, the only part of her that wasn't crushed by office furniture, spasms against the ruined carpet, as if it thinks it’s reached its destination and is grasping at its savior.

Alexa’s hand tingles, and her fingers lock into her palm, nails fitting easily into the little grooves she dug there weeks ago. No blood, she only dug that deep once, but the furrows remain as permanently etched there as the frown lines on her face.

Alexa struggles to take in a labored breath as her therapist watches her with the appropriate amount of professional, clinical sympathy and detachment.

“Do your counting,” he reminds her.

How could she forget? She counts to three once, letting a breath out at the end. She repeats the process twice more, ignoring her therapist’s brief flash of annoyance at her departure from his “system.” But, for once, he doesn’t ask her why she has to deviate from the standard one-to-ten method and just lets her do the goddamned counting in peace.

Small blessings.

“Have you had any flashbacks since our last session?”

She stares at him, letting her gaze rest heavy and disbelieving as she turns his question over. She’s been averaging about five flashbacks a day, triggered by everything from accidentally brushing a stranger on the sidewalk (Jim knocking past her to get down the stairs just as the door on the stairwell behind her explodes inward; more shrieking, then falling, then dark) to lifting a carton of cold milk from the shelf at the grocery (that impossibly cold hand grasping hers, pulling her up from the rubble, bringing her face to face with...something...something in the...shadows, it was so dark there, and…).

“Yeah. I’ve had some flashbacks since our last session.”

“What sort of coping strategies did you use?”

He’s not even meeting her eyes now, just getting notes down on that damned pad. The scratching of his pen grates into her bones, and Alexa grits her teeth as she glares.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

She slowly recites the list of strategies he suggested during a previous session, none of which have proven particularly effective at lessening the frequency of the episodes, but most of which she grudgingly admits provide some slight relief afterwards and allow her to refocus her mind on the present rather than dwelling in the memory.

“And the shadows?”

How can he get this wrong every time when he’s taking all those fucking notes?

“Still just the one.”

“Has it manifested in any other way? Asked you to do anything? Do you feel different in any way when you notice it?”

There’s a distasteful eagerness to his words that always turns Alexa’s stomach, and she has to physically bite into her tongue to keep from asking what kind of bonus he gets for each symptom she shows of different mental illnesses.

“It’s just there sometimes. I..” She hesitates, feeling vaguely nauseated from his questions, but she has to be honest, right? Because, ultimately, it’s his job to help her, and she’s never going to get through this by hiding symptoms. He can’t help fix her if he doesn’t know what’s broken, and he did suggest the routine, so, okay, he gets a pass for this one.

“I still mostly only see it before I’m falling asleep. I’ve started seeing it in the late afternoon, as well, not often, but sometimes. Always in shadows that are already there. It doesn’t talk or anything, doesn’t really have any face or form except for vaguely person-shaped, but it...it watches me. And it’s...denser than it was last week. More...it’s thicker than it was, like when you see wispy clouds kind of...gather and turn into storm clouds?”

He nods, his pen whizzing over the legal pad he records their session notes on. “So, you feel threatened by the shadow? Like it’s storm clouds gathering to...what? It feels menacing?”

But, like most of the questions Alexa fences in this office, this one isn’t easily answered.

“It feels like it’s watching me, waiting for something. I don’t know what. I don’t...I don’t know if it’s menacing, exactly. Like, it feels potentially dangerous, but I can’t tell if it’s for me. I don’t know. It’s just...darker and more there this week, but it doesn’t do anything, and I don’t feel different, and it doesn’t speak to me. I. Don’t. Hear. Voices.”

She clips off each word at the end of her rant separately and precisely, repeating her counting in her head, and she forces her breathing to even out. The doctor is just doing his job, he’s just trying to help, he’s supposed to ask these questions, it’s how he helps-

“Hmm. I’ll have to consider that between now and our next meeting. In the meantime, go ahead and move up to the next dosage step with your meds, keep it on the escalating schedule we set.”

You set, she thinks mutinously for a moment before internally shaking her head. She nods, biting her tongue once more. She’s going to have a permanent indentation there as well, at this rate.

“Any side effects? Itching, swelling, difficulty breathing? Any unreasonable lethargy or detachment?”

“I mean...I don’t really have anything to attach to at this point, so…”

He frowns at her again, and she wonders if he’s going to crank up her dosage two notches instead of one.

“Are you having what you feel are typical emotional responses to everyday stimuli? Have you laughed or smiled at anything yet? How long has it been since you emotionally felt anything besides the frustration and panic?”

And, somehow, this question is difficult, too. She struggles through, trying to find a balance between honesty and not making herself look like a complete failure who can't function in life. She doesn’t help her case when she admits she hasn’t followed many of his suggestions beyond establishing a routine.

“Not even exercising?” he asks, his disappointment palpable.

When she silently shakes her head, her lips pinched tight against his disapproval, he shakes his head with a sigh that sings of ultimate betrayal. Instead of berating her as usual, the doctor frowns and looks down at his notes, considering them silently. He clicks his tongue against his teeth for a moment before switching over to end-session mode, robotically delivering his closing remarks, his typical reminders to keep her meds on a strict schedule at the exact time every day, to avoid all alcohol and unprescribed drugs, to keep her diet as clean and unprocessed as possible, and to get plenty of exercise. Even this last bit is delivered with a sharply clinical detachment, as if she has driven him to the brink of her own psychoses by stubbornly refusing to accept his help.

There is a short, silent moment between them where they refuse to look at each other, the doctor perusing his notes once more while Alexa examines the wrinkles creased into her jeans from lack of folding. The doctor flips pages over in his legal pad and slaps the cover shut sharply, breaking the standoff with one last, dismissive comment.

“Routine, Alexa. Stick to the routine. If it’s what brings you comfort, if that's the one thing you’re taking away from these sessions that actually helps, then stick with it. I’ll see you Thursday afternoon.”

….

Her afternoons vary, according to her therapy schedule. Her sessions take roughly an hour and a half, so that’s one block of time she doesn’t have to try and fill. On the days she isn’t having her skull cracked open, she can sometimes force herself to work on the files her company sends her way. Grunt work, brainless stuff that any first-year intern could do, but it keeps her on the payroll and covered by health insurance until the doctor clears her to return to the office.

Not that there’s an office to return to yet.

Grocery shopping for food she’ll pretend to eat later, making excuses to stay out of the apartment a little longer each day, watching the shadows of the buildings grow darker and longer until the sunlight disappears from the streets.

And the other shadow, the darkest of all, thick and solid against the brick and stone, pacing her, keeping track as she wanders through the broken city blocks. Sometimes she walks a little faster, pretends to not notice the black spot. Sometimes she pretends it’s keeping her company. With the most conversation she’s had in weeks taking place in her therapy sessions, she occasionally finds the imaginary company of her shadow stalker to be more pleasant than menacing.

Occasionally.

Eventually, though, she and her chimerical companion head back to the silent, encroaching walls of her apartment to begin the night routine.

…

Night Routine: laundry. Pretend to eat dinner. Shower. Finish laundry. Clean already clean kitchen. Another shower (on the bad days, the ash and debris won’t wash off). Rearrange already arranged closet. Braid hair. Take meds, do not skip, no matter how much they screw up her sleep, because they help. They do. Settle into bed. Stare at the wall. Adjust pillows. Re-settle. Stare at the shadow. Start to drift off, slide into a flashback, scream back to full consciousness. Watch the shadow. Doze. Awaken from a fucked up nightmare she can only partially remember. Repeat ad nauseum.

Really, if Alexa could just skip the nights and go straight into morning, that’d be great. Mornings are tedious but tolerable. Afternoons are blurry and tense, especially therapy days, but nights…

Nights just won't shut down.

The drugs are partially responsible, the doctor has told her multiple times. The medicine can either make sleeping more difficult, or it can act like a sedative, dragging and holding her down. Honestly, she’s getting kind of mixed results. It’s difficult to stay awake, easy to slip under, but then she can’t stay asleep for very long, jerking back to consciousness in something close to full panic, unable to figure out if it’s the drugs or the dreams that’s pushing her to the edge.

Because the fucked up dreams...well, that’s all on her and her broken brain. She stopped bringing up the dreams in therapy after the first couple of weeks of sessions. The doctor seemed hell bent on steering Alexa towards the possibility that she was experiencing waking hallucinations, but there’s no way she could possibly be awake for all this shit. Maybe some of the flashbacks, but not…

Not…

Her brain isn’t that broken.

No. No, she can tell from the way she jerks to consciousness afterwards, she knows she’s asleep. Yeah, she’s unstable and has flashbacks, but she’s not delusional. They’re dreams.

Every night.

About…

Something.

Okay, sometimes she can remember. Sometimes the meds dull her down so much she forgets what day it is, but sometimes she can hold on to a detail or two. Cold, slender fingers, impossibly strong. A flash of bright blue that sends nausea racing through her entire body (who knew your toes could feel nauseated?) or a glimpse of bottle green that, conversely, thrills her to her soul. A smooth, velvet voice that penetrates every layer of her being, down to the deepest recesses. Darkness descending...a sense of dreadful awe…

And sometimes she can remember every unhinged detail with a terrifying clarity that she will never even consider mentioning to the therapist. Not if she likes her jacket sleeves to fit properly.

There’s honesty, and then there’s idiocy.

The shadow is larger tonight. Taller, a little broader, definitely denser. She would say looming, even, but it’s not quite that large.

Not quite.

She stares at it openly, no longer trying to avoid acknowledging its presence. What's the point? The doctor knows about it, and it’s not like she’s talking to it. She’s not that far gone yet. And she hasn't lied to the doctor, either. The shadow does watch her, like it’s waiting, gathering. Convalescing. But it hasn't ever talked to her.

She does not hear voices.

She yawns and rolls her shoulders, left then right, sliding a little lower in bed, searching for a cooler place between the sheets. Movement catches her eye, and she looks up as the shadow shifts, leaning left then right, and seems to…

Grow?

No, it’s never moved before. She’s pretty sure she’s never seen it move, but now it pulses and raises up, stretching-

No. No. Sourceless shadows don’t move. They don’t grow, they don’t shift, they don’t-

The shadow stretches upwards abruptly, definitely looming now, and Alexa hits the wall behind the bed, scrambling backwards in a blind panic as she realizes the shadow isn’t growing.

It’s coming closer.

Her breathing speeds up, but her limbs are heavy and dull with narcotic stupor. The foot of her bed darkens as the shadow creeps even closer, and she opens her mouth to protest, to scream, to say something, but her tongue is numb and stupid with the acrid, coppery tang of fear and pharmaceuticals, and she hates, hates this kind of dream where she can’t speak, can't move and she can barely breathe, and...and…

The shadow reaches out, stretches over her foot and slides up her calf in a clammy, viscous caress that tightens on her knee and pulls her several inches down the bed as her throat closes.

Do not shrink from Me. It is not your fear I crave, but your adoration. Come to Me, allow yourself to move past the fear and embrace what I wish to grant you.

Horror, deep and instinctual, floods her veins. Alexa feels the voice more than hears it, and it awakens an ancient fear that finally, though futilely, awakens her drugged limbs. She claws at her sheets uselessly as the shadow moves over her, a freezing oil slick that oozes against her skin as if her blankets and clothes weren’t even there, sending shivers to the very marrow of her bones as her gorge rises, and she chokes on the bile that singes the back of her throat. She can’t fight, can’t move against this intangible force, but neither will her terror let her sink past the fear to blissful unawareness.

Give over. Let go of your stubborn fear that tethers you to this useless reality. Allow Me entrance, and I will grant you the relief you seek. Release your grip on the world that cares nothing for you, and I shall bestow upon you the peace you so desperately crave.

Her skin raises in gooseflesh everywhere the shadow crosses, and her stomach turns as it squeezes its way up her torso, her chest, her throat, slipping over her lips in a sick parody of a lover’s caress. She opens her mouth - to scream, to breathe, to do something - and the shadow plunges inwards, invading her mouth, her throat, coating her inside and out with a thick, glutinous sensation that leaves her mouth hanging obscenely open, tongue thrashing, while her mind screams useless denials.

Submit to Me what you see I can easily take, give Me My due. Give over, drown in Me, and I will save you from this miserable existence.

And she is drowning, the air pressed from her lungs as a dark heaviness settles solidly over her. Her arms are forced over her head, and she is strung out on her twisted sheets, writhing under the weight of the shadow as it presses over every surface, against every entrance. No matter how she strains, her legs are gradually forced apart. The darkness’s lack of speed is affected, some barely functioning bit of her brain whispers to her; it could take her as swiftly as it cares to and is only moving slowly because it wants her to suffer, wants to taste her anguish. She has no chance against the shadow, she can’t even touch it, really she could just save herself the anxiety and fear and just-

NO.

She twists as hard as she can, but the shadow simply moves with her, flows over her, waits until she takes another breath, and then surges between her thighs, driving her torso off the bed with the force of its thrust. Every cell in her body locks, not in pain, but in complete revulsion. And then again, and again, cruel in the thoroughness of its violation, covering and saturating every crevice of her being, coating and tainting everything it touches.

Wrong, can't...stop, stop, stop, wrong, can’t...God, please…

You cannot rely on yourself, on your own mind for proper guidance. Let Me protect you. Let Me save you from yourself.

How long...minutes...hours...years...just stop, please…please-

The alarm clock shrieks right in her goddamned ear, and she can breathe and move and scream and goddammit, she fucking hates those dreams that send her careening onto the floor, scrambling for cover when she can’t even remember what she's running from.

Her morning routine is already in shambles. There’s no ignoring the alarm clock today. A morning shower maybe, to wash off the sticky aftermath of night sweats, definitely, but no lying about, staring at the walls in a sleep-daze. Definitely washing the sheets tonight, too.

She surveys what she can see of her bed from her crumpled position on the floor in front of the closet and sighs. Must’ve been a hell of a nightmare to tear up the covers that badly. She thinks for a moment of trying a little harder to remember, to recall some piece of the dream, but then her stomach flips over, and she summarily rejects that idea in favor of caffeination and medication.

She allows herself another few minutes on the floor, waiting until her respiratory and heart rates return to a less alarming pace before climbing to her quivering knees. The shadow darkens the far corner of the room, as innocuous as always. Though she doesn’t know why, she can’t help an involuntary flinch when she first sees it. It’s not normally present in the morning, at least, she doesn’t think so...well, she can't remember the shadow being so dark in the mornings, at least. But...

She clears her throat against the thickness that seems to coat it suddenly, and readjusts her plan to include a glass of water before she starts in on the coffee. She realizes after another long moment of staring that her hands are trembling along with her legs. Her jaw clenches, and she knows she’s being ridiculous. It’s a damned shadow. It just sits there. It’s a minor manifestation of a mild psychosis secondary to major psychological trauma. It’s just a damned dark spot; it doesn’t change, doesn't want her to do anything, and it definitely doesn’t fucking talk to her.

She. Does. Not. Hear. Voices.

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#mcu #mcu fic #loki #dark loki #rape #torture #abust #self harm #negative portrayal of psychological services #negative portrayal of mental health professional #hallucinations #stalking #supernatural horror #prescription drug use #prescription drug abuse #mental illness #ptsd #flashbacks of violence #gaslighting #physical and mental exhaustion #denial #self neglect #isolation #mental spiraling #mental abuse #emotional abuse #original chracter #original female character

[highpope]

Silver Keys - Ch. Four

JJ Maybank x OC x Topper Thorton // Soulmate AU

warnings: mentions of abuse, swearing

notes: HI! I rewrote the ending of this ch. instead of finishing my Industry paper. I really hope you liked it :) Let me know what you think!!

Tags: @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @auds24 @messagesinthesky @collecting-stories @cognacdelights @sunsetholland @uwubonebabie

(if you wanna be tagged or removed message me)

JJ never liked his birthday. It was just the weight of the day and the pressure to make it memorable. It was never something he could give himself. He didn’t like to make a big deal about it either. It was easier that way. It’s not that he didn’t appreciate what his friends did for him, he really did.

JJ remembers for his 16th birthday his dad was passed out drunk the whole morning and Pope came and picked him up and they went surfing all day. Later they stayed at John B’s, sang happy birthday, and had brownies, his favorite. He had found out later that Kie and June had baked the brownies themselves. It was the best birthday he had ever had.

JJ’s birthdays were always a fight with his dad. Like a sad yearly tradition that left him more bruised than the day before. The day reminded his dad of his mom and how they weren’t in love anymore and that she left him. That’s JJ, the constant reminder of the shitty world they live in.

His mom left them both. JJ always clarified that. If his dad got to be bitter and drink himself to death, then JJ got to be upset about it. Even just a little.

He hadn’t lived with his dad in a few years, only stopping in once and a while to make sure he wasn’t dead, had paid the bills, and kept food in the fridge. He didn’t deserve it, but not doing it made JJ feel guilty.

JJ had made it clear to his friends that he didn’t want to draw attention to his birthday this year.

“We’re not doing any party shit, okay? I just wanna go surf.” He had said Sunday. No one argued, but Kie did insist they at least go to The Wreck Friday for dessert. They all agreed and would stay over at the chateau to get to the beach the following morning. That was before June stood him up for surfing. And before she said she’d go out with Topper Friday night. Pope seemed to be on her side which was just the icing on his sad, sad birthday cake. He said as such to him when they went surfing Tuesday morning.

“JJ, I am not on anyone’s side. There are no sides.”

“But you knew!” JJ responded, his thoughts were circling in his head.

Pope sighed, “I knew that he sort of asked her out back at that party, but I didn’t know he came into the shop yesterday. and,” he gave JJ a pointed look, “I didn’t know you’d be this upset about June going on a date.”

“I’m not. She can go out with whoever she wants to go out with,” he said matter of factly.

Pope just raised his eyebrows and went back to unloading his car. They hadn’t made it down to the beach yet, JJ too distracted to keep walking.

“It’s just Topper man,” JJ fake shivered.

“Listen, no one’s thrilled about it being him, but we at least owe it to June to act, I don't know, neutral about the situation.”

“Okay, okay,” JJ brushed off his comment.

JJ wanted to say that no one knew if Topper was really June’s soulmate or not, but he knew that he would tell JJ not to be rude and accuse him of being in love with his best friend. Which was not the case here.

“No, I’m serious JJ. Don’t make her feel bad about going out with him. We owe it to her. That and about a million other things.”

JJ let that thought roll over in his mind. He was right. June was the most caring person in the world, she had put them all first every single time.

“Yeah, I know.” He paused, “And what if it’s not him?”

Pope was already walking down the beach, annoyed at how long JJ was taking, “then we fuck his shit up.”

JJ laughed at his abruptness because that’s exactly what he would have said.

The both of them spent the next few hours in the water, but JJ couldn’t stop thinking about what Pope said. And that’s why, the next day, JJ got out of bed before noon and drove to the bait shop around the time June would be getting off. He knew she wouldn’t have driven there, it was too nice of a day. So, he sat in the parking lot and waited.

When she was finally leaving, she used the side door. JJ had to run to catch up with her, startling both himself and June.

“Hey!” he called out.

She froze before turning around, “what’re you doing?” “Can I drive you home?”

She thought about it before agreeing.

“I’m sorry,” JJ began when they had gotten out of the parking lot. She was quiet and very visibly tired.

“The JJ Maybank… apologizing?” So, she was still mad.

“Okay, I deserve that. Go ahead, give it to me.”

June stayed silent in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window, “No, I just shouldn’t have said anything.”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, “No, it was shitty of me to be all passive-aggressive about it. It really doesn’t matter who you go out with or who you don’t or if it’s Topper or whoever.”

He looked over at her, bouncing her leg up and down and still leaning against the door.

“Are we okay?” he asks

“Always.” It took a moment for her to look over at him but she smiled. JJ cleared his throat and shifted his eyes back to the road. He already felt better, like he could breathe properly again knowing she wasn’t pissed off at him.

“What’re you humming?” He asks.

Her eyes were closed when she answered, “I don’t know. It’s been stuck in my head all day.” and then she started humming again, louder for JJ to hear.

“Oh, I know that song!” He starts to sing along, filling in the words.

June laughs, “I’ve literally never heard that song. That’s wild.”

“It’s your soulmate?” JJ poses tentatively.

“Yeah, yeah I guess so.” She breathed.

When they parked he asked, “Do you really think it’s Topper?”

June shot him a look instantly. He held his hands up in surrender, “I’m not arguing. Just… curious.”

She sighed a little before speaking, “I don’t know. But I’d hate myself if I didn’t try to find out, ya know?”

JJ just nodded his head, she looked as if she wanted to say more, but stopped herself. June climbed out of the truck and yelled behind her, “See you Friday?”

“Of course,” he yelled back. He watched her close the door behind her before driving off.

JJ didn’t go straight back to the chateau. Instead, he kept driving, the radio at the lowest possible setting, all the windows down until he ended up at his dad’s house. He parked a few houses down and just watched. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to build up the courage to go in, or if he wanted to see his dad come out, or what. He stayed for a while, not thinking about anything specific, just breathing in the cool air and watching.

Sometimes JJ wanted so badly to hate his dad. He desperately tries to erase all traces of familiarity, every last thing about himself that could possibly lead someone to Luke Maybank. He hated him. He hated him for giving JJ his eyes and his rough demeanor. He used to wish to be softer, kinder, more gentle. Someone like Pope or June. Instead, he was steel, dented, and hard to fix.

Sometimes JJ wanted so badly to hate his dad and everything he had done to him, that he couldn’t.

On Friday morning, well Friday afternoon, JJ walked into the living room of an empty chateau. Half asleep, he stumbled into the kitchen and pulled out an empty Eggo waffle box from the freezer. Cool. He then dragged his feet over to the cabinets and pulled out what was left of the coffee grounds and began making a pot. He thought about calling Pope and making him bring some breakfast from his dad’s, but then he saw the note on the counter.

went to get groceries. can’t survive on stale Oreos anymore

John b.

Well, that answered that JJ thought as his stomach growled. Stale Oreos didn’t sound too bad now.

About a half-hour later, he heard someone on the front porch and thought it must be JB back from the store, hands filled with groceries.

He flung open the door, “God, I’m starving. What-” He stopped in his tracks. Standing in front of him was his dad. It felt wrong, having him here. In this place, in this safe space that he and his friends had created. Such evil and anger weren’t welcome.

“What’re you doing here?” JJ said when his mouth finally caught up with his brain.

“Is that any way to greet your father?” Luke spoke as if he was reading from a teleprompter. His words were slow and meaningless, slurred together without a thought behind them.

JJ stayed silent, disgust rising in him.

“Heard you were in the neighborhood.”

“No,” JJ said through gritted teeth, “must’ve been someone else.”

“Don’t lie to me, boy. I’m the one who taught you how.” He was inching closer. He reeked of alcohol and sweat.

“You didn’t teach me anything.” He spits.

“Listen to me you little shit” Luke started, laughing as he lunged forward. It was a dark, empty sound. It made JJ’s ears ring. He closed his eyes for a second and the laugh echoed. It encompassed him, became him. JJ saw every fight, every empty beer bottle, every stack of cash blown away, every sleepless night and it overtook him. He was the product of hatred. He was steel, so scratched and dented and kicked in that not even the best people could fix him.

When JJ opened his eyes, his body hurt and his ears were ringing and he thought his lip was bleeding. He was laying on the porch, propped up against the doorframe. Once he was sure his dad had left, he started to get up. Every thought in his head was replaced by the throbbing of his left side. The more he walked, the more he breathed, the quicker it morphed into anger, “Fuck,” he yelled, “He came here! Here. Here. He was here.” He repeated it over and over until the words had no meaning. He left through the backdoor and ended up at the overlook. His mind was racing, replaying the moments from earlier and every moment prior. JJ didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to be the little kid with the shitfaced dad who forgot his birthday. But he was, so he did. JJ cried until his eyes were puffy and his head hurt and the sun had started setting.

Now, JJ was sitting in John B’s spare room. He crawled in through the window, not wanting to run into anyone if they were home. They were probably trying to call, but his phone was in the living room from this morning. He didn’t want to have to tell them, watch as their eyes scanned over him to assess the damage. He looked around the room that had somehow become his own. There were clothes piled on the floor, a few swimsuits left from the others hanging on the door, and empty beer cans littering the ground. The bed frame was broken, making the whole mattress tilt slightly towards the left.

JJ didn’t know what it was like to call someplace home. He was always hesitant, afraid that someone would just pull the rug out from under his feet and he’d be left falling. He never called his childhood bedroom home, it was a house. With four walls and a shitload of bad memories. He wanted to scream, why did he still let his dad have this control over him? He threw a shoe across the room and stormed out before stopping short in the hallway. He could hear a voice in the living room.

“Kie, it’s fine. I’m not going to be late, I just stopped at the chateau to get changed.”

She paused.

“Because it’s faster than driving all the way back to my house.”

“Okay, see you in five.”

Shit, his birthday dinner. JJ tried to retreat to the room, but he wasn’t fast enough. June had already seen him, “J! I didn’t know anyone was here. Thought you’d be with everyone else by now.”

She was holding onto the door frame with one hand and attempting to pry off her heels with the other. She was wearing a sparkling purple dress that he didn’t recognize and her hair was lazily pulled up on top of her head. A wave of nerves flooded his body, but he suppressed the feeling almost as fast as it happened.

He cleared his throat, “Uh, yeah. I was just leaving. Actually.” He grabbed his keys off the counter. He wasn’t sure if she could see his bruised knuckles from there, but he didn’t want to give her the chance.

“I can drive,” she offered softly, “if you’ll wait five minutes so I can get out of this shit,”

He nodded his head, and slowly sat at the counter, “spare’s open if you want.”

She nodded, heading into the room. JJ took this opportunity to bandage his side in the bathroom. It was already bruised, so he put some aloe vera on before taping it up and changing into a different shirt. Pope had mentioned once that aloe vera can help inflammation. Ever since there’s been a bottle in the first aid kit. He liked the smell, reminded him of summer.

He cleaned the cuts on his hand and his lip like he should have when he first got here. The blood was dry on his face and cleaning it only made the cut reopen. Fuck it, he thought and met June back in the living room.

She had changed into jeans.

“Hey, is this mine?” she asked, pointing to the shirt she was wearing. It was a gray high school track t-shirt, “I forgot to pack one and saw this in the dresser.”

“Must be, I didn’t do track, hell no.”

She laughs before linking her arm through his and leading them to the car. JJ couldn’t help but wonder how her date went. She was in good spirits, better than usual he noticed. He wanted to ask, but he was certain he didn’t want to know the answer. He wanted to tell her about his dad, too, surprisingly. But he knew the face that she’d make as soon as the words were out of his mouth. And that hurt JJ more than the possible broken rib.

When they got to The Wreck, Mr. Carerra waved them to the back where the rest of their friends sat. It felt the most normal JJ had felt in a long time like time resets itself when the five of them sit around a wooden table eating ice cream.

He tried to focus on the conversation, on the light music being played through the restaurant, on the crickets outside, anything to ground him to this moment.

“JJ?” John B asked from across the table.

“Hey,” June said a little louder, hitting his stomach to get his attention. He winced slightly before responding, “huh? Sorry. I was, uh, trying to figure out what song was playing.”

Pope and Kie share a look before diverting their attention back to John B who repeated his question, “Are you excited to figure out your soulmate?”

“Oh,” JJ laughed, “yeah. Thrilled.”

“Come on, it’s kind of exciting. You’ve gotta admit that.”

“Yeah, I guess.” His eyes scan the table, stopping at each of his friends. Truthfully, he doesn’t want anything to change. He’d trade a soulmate for his friends any day. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

When Kie's dad finally kicks them out of the restaurant, he makes her stay behind to clean the tables. They all offer to help, but to JJ’s excitement she assures them to go ahead and that she'd meet back up with them in a little. Pope and John B hop in the van and start driving away before the rest of them are even in the parking lot, “See you in ten,” Pope yells from the passenger side.

Once June and JJ are in the car, she makes JJ close her eyes.

“Why?” he questioned.

“Just do it.”

“June, I really-”

“Please?”

He huffed and pulled down his hat to cover his eyes. He could hear her moving around next to him.

“Okay, open.” JJ did as he was told and was presented with a soft gift-wrapped present.

“Happy birthday,” she said sweetly. She was facing him, turned sideways in the driver's seat with her head resting on the chair.

“It’s not my birthday yet.” He said, meeting her eyes.

“I wanted to be first.”

“I told you not to get me anything.”

“I don’t care,” she chuckled.

“June,”

“Take the present, you jerk.”

He pulled back the paper revealing a keychain laid on top of some type of clothes. He held it up to get a better look and realized it was a surfboard with “OBX” written on it like from a tacky souvenir shop, “cute.”

She smiled, “now look at that.”

He lifted the crewneck in his lap, it was a light blue color and had stitching near the colors.

Before he could say anything June interrupted, “Found it in that thrift shop by my house the other day.”

“I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, are you kidding?” He laughed a little, “thank you.”

She smiled again, satisfied with herself before turning forward and starting the car.

JJ messed with the rings on his fingers, examining the bruises that had started to form/

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,”

“Have you… heard anything else? Like your soulmate, I guess.”

He felt her hesitate beside him, “Ya know what nevermind. It’s okay, you’re pretty sure it’s Topper and you really don’t have to tell me anything. It is totally okay. I was just-”

“Nervous?”

He sighs, “yeah.”

She clears her throat, “it’s not scary. At all. It is weird though, weird as hell. I mean it’s almost like if you weren't paying attention, you’d never even notice.”

She had the same far-off look John B got when he talked about this shit. It made him uneasy.

“But to answer your question, I’ve only heard it a few times.”

He nodded his head and mulled over what she said.

When he opened the door to the chateau, he was met by everyone standing in the living room, “happy birthday!”

“You distracted me!” He yelled at June shutting the door.

“It was my job!” she yelled back, “I had to give them time.”

He was laughing at everyone’s stupid party hats and the tray of brownies with sloppy “happy bday J” iced on top with a single lit candle. He made a show of blowing it out and pulled the others into a hug. He pretended to be annoyed at the effort, but deep down he had been so excited.

Later, he tried to etch it into his mind. He wanted to remember tonight as the best birthday he had ever had. He smiled as he fell asleep on a mattress that didn’t tilt to the left anymore in a room that he had made his home.

#obx #obx fic #topper obx #topper outer banks #jj maybank #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj x oc #outer banks #outer banks fic #obx soulmate #outerbanks #outer banks soulmate #jj maybank x oc #original character #highpope-fics #highpope #silver keys #silver keys masterlist

[draconica]

Oooo, for the writing prompt, a little 7+4+1? Or just one, I might be a little greedy 😖🤣

7: Engagement sex 4: Petnames 1: Spicing things up in the bedroom

I made it work, anon   ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I also headcanon Ellis can be a powerbottom so enjoy that

When Ellis returned home from the shop one warm evening, he was humming softly to himself. There was a sly smile to his features as he gently jostled the plastic bag he had brought home. There was no groceries or anything that mundane inside. No, there was something very special inside of this particular carrier.

“Niiick?” he crooned in the hope that his boyfriend was home, and in the mood. Now, he was home, but as Ellis turned the corner into the living room he was met with a sight he wasn't quite expecting to see.

Nick was stood in a black suit - a proper, swanky, three-piece number – and holding a red rose. A soft song was playing on their stereo system, and the lights were turned down low. He had definitely been stood here for some time, waiting for Ellis to return home, and Ellis dropped his smile briefly. The gambler was smooth as silk at the best of times, but this was unexpected.

“Welcome home, sweet peach,” Nick led with, making Ellis blush – that damn pet name of his. “You good?”

Ellis scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, I'm jus' fine,” he smiled, setting down his bag for now, and gesturing to Nick as he took a step towards him. “What's this for?”

In a second, Nick's smile slipped a little, arching his brow. “...You forgot, didn't you?” He rolled his eyes, but that smile soon came right back as he stepped forward also, closing the gap between them and offering him the rose. “July 12th? The day we got out of quarantine?” Nick chuckled, leaning in closer and making it more personal. “The day we moved in together, made the new place official?”

A million thoughts swarmed Ellis's head at that point, taking the rose and knowing he was absolutely overcome with blushes. “O-oh… damn, I guess I did forget,” he giggled, tilting his head a little as his boyfriend leered closer. Even now, Nick was still the most damn attractive man he'd ever met, let alone dated. “M'sorry, darlin', just had a lot on my mind, I guess?” he shrugged.

Nick seemed to understand, nodding once before pulling Ellis in for a kiss. “It's all good, sport. You can make it up to me later. But for now...” he turned and clicked a remote in love control, turning down the music a touch, before his hand returned to where it belonged – holding his lover's.

“Ellis,” he began, looking down at his thumb caressing the back of El's hand. “It's been a hell of a ride to get here, huh? Fighting for our lives every day in the apocalypse, a year of quarantine, and now three years of living together. Before the Green Flu, I was at my lowest point. I… well, wouldn't be alive if I hadn't met you. The zombies were a distraction, but you were a reason to live. You mean the Goddamn world to me, Fireball, and I want to spend every day by your side. So… I have one question for you.” Ellis watched on, mouth dropping, as his boyfriend got down on one knee and produced a velvet box containing a thick silver ring. In the center, there was set a dark blue gemstone. “Ellis, mi tesoro, will you marry me?”

Needless to say, Ellis had not been expecting this today, and that was obvious given the absolute astonishment on his face at that moment. It almost made Nick want to laugh, but he was slightly too nervous for that.

Thankfully, Ellis broke into his lop-sided, brilliant Southern smile. “You sly sumbitch,” he chuckled. “Hell yeah, I'll marry ya!”

The gambler got to his feet, immediately bringing his lover closer into his arms with an unbreakable smile. The ring was a perfect fit onto Ellis's fourth finger, something else that Nick had been worried about, but seeing how snugly it sat made the older man's heart swell. “I love you, Overalls.”

“Love you, too, darlin',” Ellis responded as he brought Nick's face in for a kiss... and then another... and then his arms were around Nick's neck. Any distance between them was suddenly gone.

It wasn't unusual for their kisses to get out of hand, certainly in their earlier days where it seemed like sex was on the table every day (not literally, except for a few times Ellis can remember where they'd gotten adventurous…). That's when Ellis remembered what was in the bag he had brought home. Well, now he had no choice but to surprise his lover with its contents.

By now, Nick's kisses had moved to the mechanic's neck, and Ellis couldn't suppress a shiver as he found his favorite spot just below his ear. Many a hickey had been placed there before, and it was near-enough a certainty that he'd be getting a new one tonight.

“Nick,” he whispered, shifting his hand through the hustler's hair and smiling when he caught sight of the shiny new engagement ring on his finger. “Take me to the bedroom.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Nick chuckled before tightening his grip around Ellis's waist and hoisting him up, causing the younger man to gasp against his lips. “You don't have to tell me twice.”

Of course, Nick couldn't possibly carry Ellis up a whole staircase and into said bedroom. He wasn't a young man anymore, after all. Not that Ellis minded – it actually gave him a chance to grab the bag he'd brought home. Nick gave him an odd look as he did so, but his young fiancé had simply smiled, told him not to worry about it with a pat to the cheek.

Once they both stepped into the bedroom together, Ellis set the bag down once more and brought Nick into more kisses, having missed them in the thirty seconds they had stopped.

“How long were ya plannin' that for?” asked Ellis curiously as he slipped the black tie from Nick's neck, smiling at him.

Nick shrugged a little. “Few months,” he admitted. “Knew I wanted to marry you someday, seemed like the anniversary of getting out of that Goddamn pandemic was a good time.”

Ellis was now working on those pesky shirt buttons, granting him access to that chest hair he loved so much on Nick. “Romantic as usual,” he mused. “Gotta be honest… I was plannin' a lil' somethin' for us tonight, too. Nothin' big like askin' ya to marry me, so kinda puts my gesture in the shade.”

“Don't be modest, sweet peach,” Nick chuckled, allowing Ellis to remove his suit jacket and leave it on the floor – something he usually gets very picky about.

“Well...” Ellis slipped Nick's belt from his pants, and was pleased at the choice his lover had made – a black leather strap. Yes, this'll do nicely. “I know you like bein' in control 'n all, but I wanna show ya how we ride in the South.”

That piqued the gambler's interest, not in the least because Ellis was looping the belt around his hand, pulling it taught for Nick to see, and something about the sight was enough to set his erection at full mast.

“Ace...” he paused, needing to wet his lips when he found his mouth suddenly dry. “Do I get a say in this?”

“You certainly get to pick the safe word,” mused the mechanic, shifting his weight slightly on his hips as he played with the leather strap some more.

Nick must've been mad, or at least deeply in love, as he decided to shift control over to his little fiancé for the night. “All right,” he conceded, stepping out of his pants which, with lack of support, had pooled onto the floor. “Where do you want me, sugar?”

The mechanic's grin spread further up his cheeks. He led Nick over to their king-sized bed and sat him down. “Now, you go ahead and make yourself comfortable, mister gamblin' man, and I'll go slip outta these here greasy clothes.” With a little canter to his steps, he grabbed the bag once more and headed to their en-suite bathroom, shooting a look over his shoulder. “Recommend losing those there briefs, too. Won't be needin' them at the rodeo.” And with that, he disappeared into the next room, door shutting slowly behind him.

Nick had always been good at following instructions, and Ellis's were about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face. So, as he stripped himself down completely and got comfortable, he took the time while Ellis was gone to think about some of the more memorable trysts in their relationship.

There was the very first time which had been during the apocalypse. It had been rough and hurried, considering they had just escaped death by the skin of their teeth, and it was more a carnal desire of the most basic of human instincts. Ellis had almost alerted a horde with how loud he'd been.

There was another time, during quarantine, where love had for the first time been entered into the equation. Namely, the first time they had said 'I love you' to each other. Nick had topped then, too. And he wasn't a picky partner by any means – after all, Ellis was young and full of testosterone, and sometimes he needed to fuck just as much as anyone else. Nick had come to enjoy bottoming, absolutely, but he was more or less the one in charge on most nights. Ellis never complained; quite the opposite, in fact. Nick was still lost in thought when suddenly the bathroom door opened at last, revealing Ellis in his attire for the evening: Nothing but a cowboy hat (and one engagement ring).

“Howdy,” he drawled as he leant against the door frame, still playing with Nick's belt in his hands. “Heard there was a no-good city slicker that I needed to take good care of. Assumin' that's you, handsome?”

Nick couldn't' help but smirk up at him, raising an eyebrow. Ellis was unbelievably adorable, especially whenever he was making effort to please him. That included… this. “Goddamn it, Ace,” he shook his head. “Didn't think this was how my night was gonna go.”

Ellis shot him an amused look, then slipped right back into character. “I'm the best darn rodeo rider this side'a Georgia,” he boasted, sauntering closer to the bed. “Ain't no wild stallion I can't tame. So, reck'n you'll be my best ride yet.” The mechanic reached into the bedside drawer to fetch the lube, and took a moment to stand beside the bed, looking over his naked lover. “Safe word?” he asked.

Nick nodded up at him. “Witch.”

Ellis frowned. “Damn, Nick, really? All the words in the entire American language and you had to pick one that reminds me of the time you almost got yourself killed?”

“You almost got me killed,” retorted the hustler, squinting at him. “You're the one who spooked the bitch.” But he shook his head, letting a smile return to his red face. “Fine. Safe word is 'wedding'.”

With a roll of his eyes, Ellis blushed a little as he set the lube down on the table for now. “Good 'nough for me.” Slipping back into character once more, the Southerner crawled his way onto the bed and straddled his lover, halfway up his chest, at one point his erection bobbing near Nick's face. The gambler just watched on with hungry eyes. “Now then… one thing I know about tamin' the wilder beasts is that they need to be trained, sometimes with force.” Ellis looped the leather belt around Nick's neck gently, watching the older's green eyes for any signs of discomfort or fear. There was nothing but trust, and a lot of hunger.

Ellis cinched the belt, not tightly, but enough for Nick to feel the presence of his around his throat. With a twist of his hand, Ellis curled the leather around his wrist and tested the length. There was plenty to work with, and he grinned. “Damn, look at'chu, city boy.” Ellis backed up his hips, grinding himself backwards onto Nick's cock, and watching in triumph as Nick's eyelids fluttered slightly. “I think I'm gonna really enjoy ridin' you.”

The helpless gambler chuckled as he rested his hands on Ellis's thighs, watching those hips move back and forth and craning his neck back a little. A moan almost made it's way out of his mouth, but not quite. Ellis had to try harder. “You're getting more into the kinky sex, Overalls,” he smiled, throwing in a wink. “I'll take credit for that.”

With a tilt of his head, Ellis's hand pulled back, tightening the belt a little like pulling on the leash of a disobedient dog. Nick gasped beneath him, moaning in the afterthought, which made the cowboy grin. “You speak outta turn like that again and you'll be in the doghouse,” he threatened. Reaching over to the nightstand, he took the open tube of lubricant and squirted the thick liquid onto two fingers. The look in his baby blue eyes was so very kinky, and Nick could feel his cock give a twitch in appreciation as he pictured what Ellis was about to do with those fingers.

Picking up the belt once more with his clean hand, those fingers then went behind Ellis, slipped between his cheeks and found his pucker. The younger man was a dab hand at prepping himself, and knew his own body inside and out. While he worked his magic, he moaned aloud and reintroduced his bucking hips back into the mix. The sight was amazingly erotic, and Nick couldn't resist reaching over to play with Ellis's neglected dick. Ellis, for the most part, seemed to allow it, even bucking up again into the gambler's grasp.

“You're thinkin' about it now, aren't ya, city boy?” Ellis chuckled with an open-mouthed grin. “Thinkin' about me ridin' ya real good, getting' ya all hot 'n bothered...” He leant in slightly, pulling once more on Nick's restraint until the man was a little closer. “Thinkin' about how fuckin' good I'm gonna feel around your cock once I'm wet n' ready?”

That accent was so thick, deep with lust, and it was driving Nick crazy. The gambler gave a groan, just as the belt loosened again and allowed him is breath back. His head fell back to the pillow, already seeing a black fuzz around his vision. “God… sweet peach…”

“Yes, my darlin'?” Ellis crooned, by now with three fingers knuckle deep inside of himself.

“Ple…” Nick panted as he closed his eyes. “Please.”

That was all Ellis needed to hear. With another lop-sided smile, the mechanic shifted until he was kneeling and scooted back a little on Nick's body. He kept a keen eye on his fiancé's face, even as he reached behind, took Nick's cock in hand, and slipped himself down onto it like he'd done it a hundred times before.

The card shark grunted and turned his head a little, and Ellis could hear a shift behind him as Nick moved his legs. His feet was planting themselves onto the mattress and knees bending up, in order to provide him with the leverage he needed. Ellis leant back, slipping down further onto Nick's cock while at the same time resting against Nick's thighs like a back rest. He was grateful for that.

“How about that?” Ellis nearly sang as he shifted on Nicolas's lap. “You're bein' a good boy after all.”

Nick said nothing, just looked up at his Southern lover with a smile on his face, throwing in a wink for good measure. Ellis chuckled and wrapped the belt once more around his wrist for another harsh tug, at the same time, lifting his hips and slamming back down in a harsh bounce. The leather crackled in his grip, and Nick drew another breath. His face was getting redder. “El,” he managed, grinding out the noise, and Ellis was careful to make sure he had enough air to speak, should his next breath utter the safe word.

“Giddy up,” purred the cowboy, reaching up to hold his hat before beginning his ride. Putting all his power to his thighs, up and down Ellis's hips went as he bounced away. The sweetest moans left his throat – couldn't rightly help it, as Nick had always been the best lay of his life.

Nick's hands found their way to Ellis's hips, gripping him there and guiding him on and off his dick. In no time at all, Ellis was fully into the sex, letting go of his hat to reach back and steady himself on Nick's knee as he continued to ride him hard.

“Fuck yeah,” Nick murmured to himself as he gazed up at the scene Ellis was blessing him with. He groaned soon afterwards, craning his neck, and smiled up at his lover. “The belt… please… fuck...”

Ellis grinned and slowed his thrusts down a little in order to tug the belt once more, harsher and tighter than previously. Nick's knuckles went white around Ellis's hips.

“Look at ya… enjoyin' yourself so much,” Ellis praised and drove his hips down once more, grinding back on Nick's length. “C'mon, city boy, you know you wanna come inside'a me...”

Nick could hear the blood rushing around his head, fell the pleasure begin to whirlpool around his cock, and did the only thing he knew he could do. He moved a hand to Ellis's dancing erection and gave him a tight sleeve to fuck into, watching with watering eyes. The Southerner groaned and dropped the leather strap in favor of bracing both hands on Nick's legs, rocking himself like crazy. The gambler drew a gasp of air, Ellis threw his head back, and then it all went white.

“NICK!” Ellis broke character at the last minute to shout his fiancé's name in orgasm. He spilled semen all up Nick's chest and some managed to hit his chin. The sight was erotic enough to send the older man tumbling off the precipice himself, filling Ellis up until he was overflowing. Ellis moaned and lifted himself off for the last time, feeling warm liquid seep down the insides of his thighs.

With a sigh, Ellis leant forward and braced his hands on Nick's shoulders to prevent himself from falling atop him. The cowboy hat fell from his head and onto the floor beside the blunt end of the belt. The mechanic looked up at last, seeing Nick with his eyes closed and drawing in large breaths. He blushed as he reached up to carefully removed the leather from his neck, letting it clatter to the carpet.

“Darlin'?” Ellis whispered as he lifted himself off of Nick, in the process grabbing some tissues in order to clear them both up. “Nick.”

Nick opened his eyes at last, letting them fall onto his cute young lover as he grinned. “Even after all these years...” He reached out to cup El's cheek, rubbing his thumb there. “...you still surprise me, Overalls.”

Once the necessary clean-up had been finished, Ellis crawled back onto the bed and cuddled right up to his gambler, running his hand through his fine chest hair. “Glad you enjoyed the show, Nick.” He looked down, admired the ring still snugly on his finger. “Yeah, not quite how you pictured your night goin', huh?”

“No, sir,” agreed Nick and moved his hand up to lace their fingers together. “But if this is how the rest of my life is gonna go, I think I'm okay with that.”

With a short laugh, Ellis reached up to kiss him, rubbing his thumb along Nick's jaw. “Love you, city boy.”

#nellis #nick/ellis #l4d2 #draconicauthor #its so good to be writing them again asdfgfjkdgh ;-; #anonymous

[writingblock101]

White Flag (Jason Todd x Reader)

I’ve never written for DC before, but I’m a big fan of the Robins, especially Red Hood and Nightwing. This is long, so I broke it into two parts. The title comes from White Flag by Bishop Briggs. Rough sex is cool and all but you know what else is cool? Laughing during sex. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. 

Summary: One night, while staking out the Joker who’s making moves in Gotham, you get captured. 

Word count: 5,000 

Warnings: Unprotected sex, violence 

There are defining moments in one’s life: falling in love, getting married, graduating from college, having a child, but unfortunately, they aren’t always happy memories. You experienced your first defining moment when your brother was murdered. 

Gotham was an infamously dangerous city, crawling with thugs, thieves, and criminals. Murders, rapes, and bombings were a common staple on the news, but despite the well-known danger, no one ever expects them or a loved one to be the next victim. 

As you stood over the grave of your beloved older brother, your parents made plans to leave this forsaken, wretched city, but you knew you couldn’t leave. This city owned a piece of your soul and buried it six feet underground in a coffin. You stared at your brother's headstone and made a silent promise: You would do everything in your power to prevent this tragedy from happening to anyone else. 

Your parents left years ago, but you stayed and finished your college degree. In the wake of your brother’s death and your parents' departure, you withdrew from everyone. Your world paused, stuck in one spot while the rest of the world, the real world, continued to move. Your friends graduated, your parents left Gotham, and your brother’s body decomposed in a pine box six feet under, leaving you as an empty husk of a person. 

Then you discovered your powers. 

Ironically, in one of your lowest moments, you discovered your ability to emit a blinding light from your whole body. The initial discovery was an accident that left you temporarily blind for two days, but then you learned control and slowly began to crawl your way out of the six-foot hole you dug yourself into. 

You took fighting classes, graduated from college, and bought a gun. You had watched your life pass by for two years where you played an inactive role and passively watched murders, robberies, and rapes continue to plague the news, but now, you had a promise to keep. 

The Lightning Strike was born. 

Although the Lightning Strike filled your life with new purpose, it didn’t chase away your demons, but things got better after you met Jason. 

You’d just finished loading your car with groceries and was going to return your cart when a thug snuck up behind you and held a knife to your throat. 

“Give me your money, lady!” The man demanded. 

You sighed with an eye roll but raised your hands in surrender. I should’ve just waited to go grocery shopping until the morning. 

You grabbed his wrist, yanking the knife down and away from your throat, then stepped backwards and flung the thug over your shoulder. He slammed against the ground with a grunt then you pulled out your handgun, pointing it in the man’s face. His eyes widened at the sight of the gun and he froze in place. 

“Fuck off,” You growled. 

The thug nodded frantically and stumbled to his feet then sprinted away in the opposite direction. 

“Well,” A voice interrupted. “I was going to offer to help, but you don’t seem like the damsel in distress type.”

You turned to see a handsome man smirking at you with dark hair, deep blue eyes, and tall broad shoulders wearing a worn leather jacket. You chuckled, clicking the safety on your gun. 

“I always hated those stories as a kid, besides, there’s no such thing as damsels in distress in Gotham, only dead bodies.” 

The man raised his eyebrows. 

“You’re not wrong. It’s always nice to see when someone fights back.” 

“I can’t let Batman have all the fun.” 

He chuckled. 

“That would certainly be a crime. I would hate for that Glock to get dusty.” 

You raised your eyebrows, impressed. 

“You a gun guy?” 

He shrugs. 

“I know my way around. What’s a pretty girl like you doing out late in Gotham?” 

You glanced over at the grocery store with a smirk. 

“Oh you know, doing what anybody else would be doing at a grocery store… Hunting for elephants.” 

The man laughed with a shake of his head. 

“I guess I set myself up for that one, didn’t I?” 

You shrugged with a smile. 

“A little bit, but you’re cute enough that I can let it slide.” 

His eyebrows shot up at the compliment and another confident smirk crosses his face. 

“Yeah? Well, I am cute enough to get your number?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t usually give my number to random strangers in grocery store parking lots,” You trailed off with a coy smile. 

“Stranger danger,” He agreed then held out his hand. “My name is Jason.”

“I’m Y/N,” You introduced, shaking his hand. 

“Well, Y/N, now that we aren’t strangers, how about that number?” 

You tossed your head back laughing, a blush crossing your face. 

“Sure, Jason.” 

Giving Jason your number was one of the best decisions you ever made. While your relationship isn’t perfect, you make it work. Jason helped you reform who you once were and you taught Jason he is worthy of love. It seemed almost like fate when you two discovered both of your shared “hobby”.

For a long time, you did the vigilante thing by yourself, then a close friend, Mia offered to join the operation as a second set of eyes from behind a computer screen. While the addition of Mia was nice, having Red Hood as an extra layer of protection set your mind at ease. Despite handling crime in Gotham with different methods, the other is always there to help in a pinch. 

. . .

You wake up on Jason’s chest, morning light filtering through your curtains. You lift your head to check the time (9:45 am), then sighed and lay back on Jason’s chest. He shifts, his arm curling tighter around your back. Your thoughts drift to your mental list of errands to complete before either of you patrol tonight. 

We definitely need more groceries, I’ve got to drop my mom’s birthday present off at the post office, and I need to pick up my dress and Jason’s suit from the dry cleaners… Maybe Jason can do that and drop the package off for me then I’ll get groceries. Ugh, our apartment is a wreck, we need to clean. 

Jason’s arm flexes, pulling you closer to him as he takes a deep breath then opens his eyes with a groan. He looks down to see you lying awake on his chest and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Good morning,” You smile, tracing your fingers across Jason’s autopsy scar. 

“Good morning,” He whispers back in his hoarse morning voice. 

Jason catches your hand tracing across his scar and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“How long have you been up?” He asks, linking your fingers together and running his other hand up your spine. 

“Not long, I was just thinking about what we need to do before going on patrol tonight.” 

He hums in acknowledgment, trailing his hand under your shirt and kissing the top of your head. He tilts your chin up and kisses you softly. 

“Is that my shirt?” Jason asks. 

“Maybe,” You tease. 

“Hm, looks good on you,” He whispers, and leans in for a long kiss. 

You kiss back then Jason releases your hand to run his calloused hands up your thighs, pulling your body flush against his. You run your hands down his chest, your thumbs pressing into his pecks then one hand slides down his body and begins rubbing his morning wood, trapped in his boxers. 

Jason groans into your mouth, his grip on your thighs tightening and his hips pressing into your hand. You smirk through the kiss then feels Jason’s tongue running along your lower lip. You open your mouth, deepening the kiss then Jason pulls you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. His hands slip under your shirt, following the curves of your sides before finding your breasts and gently kneading them. 

You pull your head back, your eyes closing with bliss and a soft sigh falls from your lips as Jason continues to rub your breasts, his fingers playing with your nipples. He uses one hand to guide your neck to his mouth and begins sucking a hickey on your soft skin. You sigh again, tangling your fingers into Jason’s thick hair and grinding your hips down on Jason. 

He smirks against your neck, and slides his hands down to your hips, guiding your thrusts, breathy sighs falling from both your lips. You push back against him hard, the head of Jason’s dick brushing against your clit through the fabric of his boxers. 

You sit up, bracing your hands on his chest and press against Jason harder. He groans, running his hands up your muscular thighs. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He asks. 

You smile with a light blush, continuing to push down on Jason. Jason drags your hips against him, adding his own thrusts. One particularly hard thrust causes your body to jolt and you let out a breathy moan. 

“Oh, Jay,” You breathe out. 

He grins in satisfaction, pulling you down for a kiss. 

“Absolutely gorgeous,” He mutters against your lips. 

You giggle, kissing him deeply. 

“Thank you, handsome.” 

Jason’s eyebrows rise as a cocky smirk graces his features and you sit up again, continuing to roll your hips. 

“Handsome, huh?” He asks, driving another hard thrust against you that causes both of your breaths to catch in your throats. 

“You-you heard me,” You sigh, your voice stuttering. 

“I don’t know about all that,” Jason trails off. 

“Well, I do” You hum, laying on top of him and pressing kisses down Jason’s jawline. “I think you’re gorgeous,” You press a kiss to a scar on his eyebrow, staring into his pretty dark blue eyes. 

“Thank you,” He whispers back, kissing you on the nose. “Let me up.” 

You roll off him for a moment, allowing Jason to sit up with his back against the headboard and push the covers down to his knees, revealing his boxers before pulling you back onto his lap. You cradle his face then presses a long kiss against his lips. Jason’s hands slip under your shirt again, stroking your sides and breasts then drags a hand down your body, his fingers finding your clit. 

You gasp into his mouth, bracing your hands on his shoulders and grinding against his hand as he rubbed small circles against the sensitive nub. Your hips twitch, pressing down hard against Jason who presses against you equally as hard. 

“Fuck, Jay,” You moan, tossing your head back. 

Jason takes the opportunity to suck another hickey onto your neck continuing to rub your clit then his hand slides down to your entrance, pushing a finger into you. He strokes your walls, just barely swirling his finger around. 

“Mm, so wet, who got you like that, baby?” Jason asks into your neck. 

“Some guy,” You smirk, sitting back to look Jason in the eye. “Really sexy.” 

“Really?” Jason hums then leans in and drags his teeth down your earlobe. “Tell me about him,” He whispers then sits back with a cocky smirk. 

“He’s got a jaw that could cut glass,” You run your finger down Jason’s sharp jaw. “And the body of a Greek god,” You press your hands against Jason’s chest. “The dark, brooding type, you know?” 

Jason chuckles kissing you. 

“You’re a dork,” He grins. 

“And you’re my angsty teenager,” You boop him on the nose. “Did I mention he’s got a stubborn streak a mile--” Jason crooks his finger inside you, rubbing your G-Spot causing you to choke on your words and gasp loudly. 

“What was that, princess?” Jason asks, kissing your jaw and adding another finger. 

You moan, digging your nails into his shoulders. 

“You seem to have choked on your words there,” He murmurs, speeding up his fingers. 

You moan again, your eyes squeezing shut before Jason slows his fingers and pulls out. 

“You’re an ass,” You breath, resting your forehead against his. 

“And your ass,” Jason slides his hands to the back of your thighs to squeeze your ass. “Is spectacular.” 

You grin. 

“Must be all the jumping off buildings,” Your hands find Jason’s muscular thighs. “It’s probably where you got these bad boys.” 

Jason chuckles. 

“You know, I never expected you to have a thing for my thighs,” He admits. 

“With thighs like these,” You squeeze his legs. “It’s hard not too.” 

Jason grins then kisses you again. 

“Sit up, baby,” He murmurs against your lips, helping pull you to your knees. 

You comply, sitting up on your knees long enough for Jason to pull his boxers off, freeing his erection. He squeezes your thighs again and gives you a long kiss as he guides you down. You slowly sink down him, both of you gasping once you reach the base. 

“Shit, baby,” He moans. “You feel amazing.” 

You pant for a moment then Jason pushes up into you, causing your eyes to fly open and dig your nails into Jason’s shoulders. Your mouth falls open as Jason does it again, staring you in the eye, the eye contact turning you on more. 

You push down on him, smirking when Jason’s mouth falls open, cursing quietly. He presses a searing kiss to your lips as he thrust into you again, you pushing down equally as hard. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” He groans, bitting your shoulder. 

You let out your own moan, bracing your hands on Jason’s shoulders and slowly bouncing. He pushes into you, the two of you working in slow tandem. One of Jason’s hands trails down your stomach, finding your clit again and rubbing slow circles on it. You curse, grinding down harder against Jason. Your hips jolt with each circle and your forehead rests against his shoulder as you continue grinding down against Jason. 

“God, baby, you feel so fucking good, so tight.” 

You lean back again, your movements getting shorter. Jason speeds up his fingers and thrust into you harder, knowing you’re getting close. 

“Ah, fuck, Jason,” You moan, your hips moving in their own accord. 

Then you pause, your nose itching. You stop, sinking all the way down on Jason again and pushes his hand away from your clit. Jason frowns. 

“You okay?” He asks, running his hands up your sides. 

You frown, your nose twitching and eyebrows furrowing. 

“This is going to be an interesting sensation,” You comment, feeling your face scrunching up. 

“What?” Jason asks then you sneeze into your elbow, causing your whole body to clench around Jason. “Holy shit!” He curses, digging his fingers into your sides. 

He pants for a moment, leaning his forehead to rest against your shoulder, his fingers still digging into your skin. 

“Sorry,” You giggle, running your fingers through Jason’s hair. 

He takes another breath, loosening his grip on you then chuckles and leans against the headboard. 

“Bless you, I guess.” 

You giggle. 

“Gotta say, that was a first,” You chuckle. 

“Me too,” Jason agrees. “Holy shit. I almost busted my load. How lame would that have been?” 

You grin, biting your lip. 

“You’re sexy enough that I think I could let it slide.” 

“Good to know my looks are good for something,” He rolls his eyes with a smile. 

You grin. 

“How’s that for keeping things interesting in the bedroom?” 

Jason throws his head back laughing, smacking a hand against his forehead. He straightens up, still grinning. 

“I don’t think there is anyone I could enjoy sex with more.” 

You lean in and kiss him, long and sensually. Jason slides his tongue into your mouth again, pulling your hips forward. You moan into his mouth, rolling your hips again. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it again and the two of you found your rhythm one more. 

Your kisses morphed into bumping teeth as you both grinned through your kisses then Jason catches your bottom lip, tugging on it playfully. He pulls your thighs up and thrusts into you at a new angle, brushing against you G-Spot causing your breath to hitch. 

“Fuck, right there,” You breath, digging your nails into the back of his neck. 

Jason complies, moving his lips to your neck, and thrusting at the same angle. You push down, feeling Jason’s fingers move faster on your clit as your organsm rapidly builds. 

“I’m close,” You say, gasping again. 

“Me too,” Jason groans against your neck. 

He pulls back from your neck and pulls you in for a long kiss. Your hips stutter and your back arches, pressing your chest to chest with Jason as his thrusts become sloppier. You gasp into Jason’s mouth then moan as you cum, your forehead against his. 

“Ah fuck, Jason,” You curl your fingers into Jason’s hair. 

He bites down on your shoulder and thrusts hard into you before cumming as well. He presses a weak kiss to your lips to which you reciprocate with an equally blissed-out kiss.  Jason pulls away from you, leaning his head back against the headboard as he pants, coming down from his organsm. You, also breathing heavily, lean forward and rest your head against Jason’s chest. He wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to your forehead before barely lifting you to let his rapidly softening dick slip out of you. 

You two lay against each other, Jason running his fingers through your hair while you trace Jason’s autopsy scar. He leans down and kisses you, then reaches for the covers, and pulls it over the two of you. You shift your legs to drape over one side of Jason’s legs, one of his hands resting on your thigh, the other wrapped around your back. He rests his chin on your head, occasionally pressing kisses to the top of your head. 

“I need to go grocery shopping,” You say. “Can you pick up our dry cleaning?” 

“Yeah,” Jason’s chest vibrates as he talks. “What about that present for your mom?” 

“Do you mind dropping that off at the post office for me?” 

“Does it have the address on it?” 

“Yeah, it’s good to go.” 

“Then consider it done,” He turns to his cheek on top of your head. “You patrolling tonight?” 

“Mhm,” You hum. 

“You still watching the Joker?” 

“Mhm,” You say again and feel Jason’s jaw tighten. 

You turn so your straddling Jason again and look him in the eye as his hands find your hips. 

“I’m not going after him tonight, just gathering intel,” You clarify. 

“Why bother? Let’s just take him down.” 

“I’m waiting to see if he’s working with anyone else.” 

“He doesn’t usually play well with others.” 

“Yeah, but since getting out, he hasn’t been making any noise which is weird because he always wants to make sure we’re the first to know he’s running around again. I’m making sure I’m not about to go in unprepared.” 

“Why don’t I go with you? Just in case.” 

“There’s no need,” You reassure him, running your fingers through his hair. “You’d just be wasting your time.” 

“I wouldn’t be wasting my time if it meant I knew you were safe,” He tightens his grip on your hips. 

“I’m not going after Joker tonight,” You slide your hands down to settle on Jason’s waist. 

“Not until I’m there with you,” Jason stares you down. “I’m serious, Y/N.” 

“I won’t,” You promise, brushing his hair out of his face. 

“Good, because I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you,” He pulls you into a tight hug, kissing the top of your head. 

“I’m going to be okay, Jay,” You tell him, kissing his ear. “I’m going to be careful, just like I always am,” You sit back, cradling his face. “Okay?” 

His hands come up, holding your wrists, and staring at you for a long moment. He finally sighs, giving in. 

“Okay. But if anything starts to go even slightly off-plan, you call me.” 

“I promise I will call you.” 

Despite your promise, Jason still looks unsure, but you know he will never be fully on board with your plan. It’s the Joker, he’s always extra cautious when it comes to that deranged clown. You lean in and kiss him sweetly. 

“I love you,” You smile. 

“I love you too,” Jason smiles back, giving you another kiss. 

“Come on, let’s go take a shower,” You say, swinging off Jason’s lap. 

He tosses his legs over the bed as you stand up then smacks your ass as you walk by. You jump then roll your eyes. 

“Come on horndog, we got shit to do,” You call over your shoulder.

. . .

After stopping a few muggings, car robberies, and preventing the rape of an extremely grateful teenage boy, you make your way to Joker’s warehouse. Once arriving at the warehouse, you scale the building to reach the long row of windows that run along the perimeter of the warehouse.

“M, you copy?” You double-check your comms. 

“Loud and clear,” Mia responds. “Any movement?” 

“Nothing I can see yet.”

Despite the lights being on, there appears to be no one inside, then the west side doors burst open and the Joker skips in, followed by two armed men dragging someone between them. 

“Shit,” You curse. “He’s got a hostage.” 

They drag the rather small hostage further into the room, but your breath catches in your throat once catching sight of the hostage’s face. 

“Fuck! It’s a kid!” 

“What?!” 

The little girl the two men are dragging can’t be any older than five. They toss her on a chair positioned in the middle of the room and tie off her hands and ankles, her head slumping forward. One of the men says something to the Joker that you don’t catch, but it causes the Joker to clap his hands together with delight and leave the room. 

“M, find me a way in,” You order, climbing to the roof. 

“Don’t you think you should call Red—” 

“I’m not going after Joker, I’m just grabbing the kid.” 

“But the Joker is in there! You know what he’ll do to you!” 

“Yeah, and I know what he’ll do to that kid the longer we argue!” 

“I don’t want you to get killed!” 

“I can handle myself!” You argue. “Geeze, you’re worse than Jason!” 

Mia sighs but you hear her typing in the background. 

“On the right corner of the roof, there’s a row of grates. The third one is the ventilation shaft that’ll take you directly to the room she’s in.” 

“Got it,” You confirm. 

“Be careful.” 

You jog over to the grates then lift the covering off the ventilation shaft before carefully lowering yourself down. 

At first, it’s a tight squeeze and awkward angle, but you manage to maneuver yourself into a crawling position and follow Mia’s directions to the main space of the warehouse. A few turns later and you are staring down at the top of the little girl’s head through another grate. The two armed men that brought the little girl in stand nearby on guard.

You lift the grate off the opening as quietly as possible then set it aside and reach for your gun in your thigh holster. You dig into one of your jacket pockets and pull out a silencer. The silencer won’t completely quiet the gun, but it’ll hopefully quiet it down enough to not alert the Joker. 

Once screwing the silencer on, you quickly shoot both men then gracefully swing down so you are dangling from the edge of the vent. You swing your legs then release and catch one of the iron support beams along the ceiling. You then fire your grappling hook and swing to the floor.

You rush to the little girl, squatting in front of her and cradling her face. 

“Are you hurt?” You ask, but the little girl doesn’t lookup. 

You frown, figuring she may be in shock, then use your other hand to lift the little girl’s head to check for injuries but your eyes widen at the maniacal grin on her face.

“Joker Toxin!” Mia yells in your ear.

“Shit!” You curse, as the little girl starts giggling and slowly stands up, seeming to have never been tied to the chair. 

You jump to your feet and yanked your Joker Toxin antidote out of your jacket. Once you started staking out the Joker, you were sure to stock up on the antidote, knowing it’s one of his deadliest weapons, but any plans to injected the little girl go flying out the door when she pulls her hands out from behind her back to reveal a large revolver and pulls the trigger. 

“Oh fuck!” You curse, diving out of the way of the shot. 

The little girl shoots again, but you dodge it again, your mind racing about how to disarm the little girl without hurting her. She tries to shoot again, but luckily for you, the little girl isn’t a good shot and misses, probably because she’s five. 

“This is so fucked up,” You mutter to yourself as you dodge another shot then rush forward and yanked the girl’s arm holding the gun into the air. 

She fires another shot at the ceiling, but you snatch the gun from her before she can shoot again. Now unarmed, the little girl giggles wildly then bites your arm. 

“Ow!” You yell, not used to your opponents trying to bite you. 

You nearly smack the girl but remember she’s five and instead yank your arm out from the little girl’s mouth and inject her with the antidote. The girl stumbles away for a moment, becoming disoriented from the antidote then a shot rings out, hitting the girl in the stomach. 

“No!” You yell, grabbing your own gun from its holster and shooting the armed man who just entered the room, but another man appears behind him and shoots, this time hitting the little girl in the head. 

The little girl hits the ground, blood leaking from her head as more men wearing tactical helmets flooding the room. You shoot one of them with your gun then try to fire the revolver, but it seems to be out of bullets, so you instead pistol whips the next closest man and toss the gun to the ground. You take a running jump and kick two men simultaneously in midair then emit a blinding light, attempting to blind the men, but their helmets seem to protect their eyes. 

You growl to yourself, shooting two men. One tries to tackle you, but you flip him over your shoulder and shoot him in the arm. Another tries running toward you but you jump up and drive a powerful kick to his collarbone, sending the man to the ground. 

“M!” You yell. “Find me a way out!” 

You throw four explosives that stick to four of the men then it blows up, taking out a few surrounding men with them. One man throws a strange gadget at you. You raise an arm to shield your face, but the gadget buzzes and pops then falls to the ground before hitting you. You lower your arm, confused by the gadget but then the comm in your ear starts to sizzle and pop. You yank it out of your ear and throw it to the ground, watching as it self destructs. 

“Son of a bitch,” You curse, searching for an exit yourself.

You spot a door that none of the men seem to be entering through on the opposite side of the room, of course. You roundhouse kick a man in the face then pull out your grappling hook, but before you can fire it, someone shoots your hand. 

You drop the hook in pain and use your other hand to shoot the man that shot you. You holster your handgun then fire your grappling hook with your opposite hand and swing to the other side of the room. Before you can open the door, it flies open, revealing two gigantic men. 

You grit your teeth and spring up to jump over the men but one of the men moves faster and catches you midair, holding you up by your neck then slams you into the wall. You claw his hand with your nails and kick your feet out, attempting to kick the man, but he’s too big. He tightens his grip on your neck, cutting off your airway. You cough but manage to get both your legs around his arm. Before you can finish the move, the other man slammed his elbow down on your knee.

You cry out, hearing a loud snap then the man slams you into the floor and pins your arms down under his heavy boots before you can grab your gun and begins repeatedly punching you in the face. Your head slammed against the floor repeatedly with more force each time then you hear a loud crack along with an explosion of pain along your nose after a particularly hard hit. You struggle under the man, attempting to free your arms, but he presses down harder, grinding your elbows into the floor. 

You emit another light, blinding the man, then bring your legs up to your chest and kick the man as hard as you can. He goes flying backward and you stumble to your feet, your head now ringing, your version blurry, and your knee throbbing. The other huge man dives at you but you easily duck under him, but you don’t duck in time for another person to tackle you to the ground. 

You try to free yourself again then your eyes widen when you look up to see the Joker had you pinned to the ground, holding a crowbar and grinning maniacally. He lifts the bar and you try to duck out of the way, but you’re pinned and the bar comes slamming down on your face. Your vision blurs again, your face burning, but the Joker swings again. You feel skin tear off your cheekbone, everything getting darker. It only takes one more hit for your world to go black.

We love a good cliff hanger, hope you enjoyed! I apologize for any grammtical errors, I originally wrote this with an OC but I think I changed everything. 

Part 2 will be posted tomorrow! Let me know if you would like to be tagged! 

Part 2

#Jason Todd #Red Hood #Jason Todd x Reader #Red Hood x Reader #Jason Todd imagine #Red Hood imagine #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanons #DC #DC comics #Batman #Batfam #Joker #Smut #fluffy smut #nightwing #don't worry he'll be here soon #dick grayson

[purplesurveys]

656

Where is the last place you had a kiss? My girlfriend’s couch. I normally wouldn’t kiss her inside her house but we were alone, so it just happened. What did you eat for breakfast yesterday? I skipped breakfast yesterday and went straight to having a macchiato, which was a horrible idea considering I had a badddd hangover. My body made me pay for it soon enough when my stomach started unusually heating up, so I bought a sandwich by around lunch to help it feel better. When was the last time you were at an amusement park? 2013. I don’t like amusement parks so when my friends make plans I don’t go along with them. Two weeks ago I was at a school fair which kinda has the same amenities as an amusement park, but I guess it’s not the real thing so it doesn’t count. When was the last time you cried out of physical pain? Last Wednesday. My friend Leigh was trying to demonstrate for me the concept of just-noticeable difference by pinching the skin on my hand. I don’t like feeling pain anywhere on my body, so when she started amping up her pinching I had to yell out. Have you ever done anything to Support the Troops? No. Can’t relate.

Do you donate blood? Nooooo no nope. I just said I didn’t like feeling discomfort on any part of my body hahaha and getting pricked is the worst sensation for me. I wouldn’t be able to donate blood even if I wanted to either – as far as I know you have to be of a certain weight to be qualified, and I’ve never met that requirement. Are you wearing two shirts? No. It’s never too cold to be wearing two shirts here. The only time I had to really do this in a local sense was in Sagada. That weather was b r u t a l. It was the first time my dad turned on the heater in our car and I didn’t even know Filipino cars came with heaters lmaaaaaaao. This was a very long way of saying no. Have you ever owned the socks with toes on them? Never have. What were you the last time you went trick or treating? I went as my best friend at the time, Sofie. I didn’t have time (and wasn’t as extroverted as I am now) to come up with a detailed costume, so I went as her – black dress, eyebags, winged eyeliner, and thick hair that was never combed. It had the least effort of all my friends’ costumes, but I got the most compliments on social media lol. What's your favorite morning activity? I am so not a morning person, and I just like sleeping/lying in whenever I can. Can you cook? I am hopeless in that department. Is there a lot of laundry in your hamper? No. My mom’s laundry day is Friday, so it’s basically empty the whole weekend. When do you think you'll have children? In a little less than a decade, honestly. I’m pretty firm in my decision to have kids; it’s my biggest dream if anything. I mean I’m also willing to wait until I’m in my 30s because god knows how expensive everything is rapidly getting these days, but I just know I’ll end up having kids one way or another. Can you point out constellations in the night sky? No. The only thing I can safely point out for you is Orion’s Belt, and that’s because it’s essentially a giveaway lmao. What was your favorite part about studying ancient Greeks and Romans? Nothing. It’s one of my least favorite topics. The only thing that got me to enjoy them for a brief period was the Percy Jackson series, but when I finished the books my interest in that world waned fast. Have you ever eaten a gyro? Nah, but close enough – I’ve had shawarma. What's your favorite flavor of Tootsie pops? Mmmm not really a fan of Tootsie Pops, or like candy in general. What's the last thing you bought at a mall? If I remember correctly, I got a toasted siopao in Coffee Bean. Where did your mom go to high school? She went to Colegio de Santa Rosa in Makati. What's a subject you would never major in? Philosophy. My college curriculum required me to take one Philosophy elective, and not only was it the worst experience ever, but I got my second-lowest mark in college from that class. Is there someone who you can turn to for money and not be ashamed? No. I hate asking for money, even from my parents. When's the last time you took a bubble bath? A little over a year ago, probs. I love bubble baths when I manage to get settled in one, but because I’m usually in a hurry when I take showers, the concept of staying and relaxing in a bathtub is a little weird to me so I never do it haha. Have you ever swam in a river? I have photos of me when I was 1, my mom, her sisters-in-law, and their kids (my cousins) swimming in some river.  Are there any dirty clothes underneathe your bed? No. I know I could be messy, but that’s just disgusting. What food do you love the smell of while it's cooking? Curry. What food do you hate the smell of uncooked? I just hate the smell of wasabi in general. Your #2--what's their occupation? Your #3--what color are their eyes? Your #1--what cartoon character would they be? Your #4--are they allergic to anything? All Myspace questions that I’m skipping, lmao. Has a bee ever stung you? No. That’s like one of my top 3 fears so I never allow myself to be near bees or wasps. If there’s any nearby I run the fuckkkkk away. Where did you last go camping? I have never been camping for real. In what month do you start Christmas shopping? Last year I had some stuff ordered by early November – but those were gifts for just my girlfriend. I bought everyone else’s gifts like a week before Christmas. Have you ever slept in a bed with someone with bad BO? I’m sure I have; I just don’t let it bother me because no one’s breath is supposed to smell great in the morning lmao. Do you have a favorite flavor at Baskin Robbins? I have never had Baskin Robbins and I dunno if I will, because it’s just so expensive. Philippine suppliers looove bringing foreign brands like Shake Shack and Baskin Robbins over here and slapping insanely high prices on them just so they’re seen as high-end lmao, it’s sad. Are there fast food wrappers/cups in your car? No not at the moment. If anything there are old receipts. Do you read the newspaper? Very seldom, but given that I’m a journalism student, I encounter newspapers a lot because they’re everywhere in the college. What search engine do you use? Google. Have you ever posted a question on Yahoo questions? Nope. But the website is useful and I just look for people asking the same question I have at the moment. Have you ever been on a dating website? I made a Tinder account a few years ago just to observe it and just for fun. I never needed it but I was curious, so I joined it but I used a fake name and a photo of a cat I saw in school as my profile picture so that no one knew who it was. Have you ever had a crush on a celebrity of the same sex? Save for CM Punk, I’ve only ever had crushes on female celebrities. What kind of flowers would you plant in your garden? I dunno, I’ve never felt interested in growing flowers...or a garden, in general. Would you rather have a flat tire or overheated car? Flat tire. As far as I know that can be fixed a little more easily than a completely overheated car. What's the safest form of transportation? Private car, lmao. That’s really your safest bet in this country. Do you believe that kids should be taught abstinence? They can be taught about it so they’re aware of what it means and asks of them, but kids should also be reminded that at the end of the day it’s an option that they can choose to take or not. When's the next time you'll go to the grocery store? I only ever go when my dad is home because he likes having us along, so maybe in a month or two. When's the last time you went to Chuck E. Cheese? Never. What's your favorite cheese or cheese flavored food? Mozzarella sticks. Do you like black licorice? It’s decent, at best. I won’t spit it out, but it’s not my first candy of choice either. Can you count to 100 in another language? Two, Filipino and Spanish. We use Spanish when referring to currency, so that’s why it’s easy to memorize. Like I’d say I have labing-limang (fifteen in Filipino) notebooks, but when I have to say fifteen pesos, we say it as kinse (fifteen in Spanish). Idk, it’s a weird quirk with Filipinos but yeah. What's the nearest thing to you that can bounce? I don’t think there is anything bouncy in the living room at the moment. Do you hate cleaning? If I have to do it I get lazy. But when I actually want to clean, it can be relaxing. Do you clear dishes in the garbage disposal or in the garbage can? My mom takes out the garbage. Do you watch anything on the E! network? I don’t think our cable comes with E! so the only times I get to encounter it is when we’re staying over at hotels. I like having Keeping Up With the Kardashians on when we do have that channel. Have you ever tried out or thought of trying out for American Idol? I loved the show during its peak days, but I never had the desire to join it. Where's your car keys? Upstairs, on my bedside drawer. Did you keep any momentos of high school dances? From my high school ball, yes. I still have my old gown, photos with Mike, the instrument he used to ask me to ball (a Starbucks cup with the proposal written on it by the barista), and my old corsage. I like keeping stuff like that around so that I don’t forget, not because I still like him lmao. My prom could fuck off, and I have nothing from that night. Do you still have clothes from your high school dances? I have no idea. My high school prom dress disappeared after a while, but I still have my ball gown. The last person you laid in bed with said... I don’t know what you’re referring to but our last conversation was her telling me to drive home safe. Can you touch your nose with your tongue? I can’t. Which celebrities would you want to hang out with at a bbq? The Friends cast. Do you think you could do better drawings than Napolean Dynamite? I have never seen the movie. What are you doing on Superbowl Sunday? Isn’t it over already? I saw my aunts and uncles post about it on Facebook so I’m pretty sure it’s over. Anyway, I don’t care for football. Ever been to the original 13 colonies? No. Have you ever been to a concert that got out of control? Not really. The most ‘rebellious’ thing that ever happened was at my One Direction concert. The organizers made the stupid decision of holding the show on FLAT concert grounds and not a stadium, for a concert that probably held 10,000-20,000 people. Can you imagine holding that on just the GROUND??? Anyway, my sister and I had the third best tickets which was supposed to bring us to the semi-front, but it turned out to be so far from the stage. Everyone from my section all the way to the back resorted to standing up on the monobloc chairs which really isn’t allowed, but duh it’s One Direction and we wanted to see them. Harry had to call us out and ask us to get down from the chairs and just stand on the ground for our safety, but we kept protesting until they just gave up and continued the show. What's the last thing you watched on tv? Titanic, but we watched it on Netflix. I haven’t seen cable TV in a whiiiiiiile.

Whose show should be cancelled? 13 Reasons Why. Do you like Lindsay Lohan as a blonde? It doesn’t bother me. When's the last time you ate fruit? Last Friday I tried some of Laurice’s green mango with bagoong. Can you jump rope double dutch? Nope. I know jump rope but I never went that far.

#survey #surveys

[finally100lbs]

lose 20lbs in 30 days or less

Stats 🌱

5’5

GW: 100lbs

CW: 120

I’ve already lost weight to get to 120lbs. I’m live blogging my last 20lbs for accountability. Hopefully this won’t take long...

Goals and rewards 🍃

Pre-120lbs: I didn’t have goals. I should’ve though, bc I’ve been losing and bingeing back the same weight over and over again for years now

120lbs 🔓: unblock tumblr. Tumblr is my only social media, so I had to make sure I worked hard to get it back. Now that I finally made it here, I can share the rest of my journey with you all.

115lbs 🔐: spend $30 on Amazon and unblock Netizenbuzz and AsianJunkie (2 kpop news sites that I visit frequently). I have no business looking at skinny idols who work hard for their bodies until I get down to at least 115lbs. Lose the weight, stay up to date. If your body stays stout, keep missing out. Simple as that.

105lbs 🔐: unblock youtube. I’ve spent years procrastinating work in favor of watching dumb videos all day. Tired of having no entertainment? Lose the weight then! I don’t watch tv so this is a big one for me. Catching up on all the Cody Ko, Drew Gooden, Danny Gonzalez, and Kurtis Conner I missed will be a great reward though. My lowest weight I’ve gotten down to was 110 a long time ago but I immediately binged it all back like an absolute dummy. I still beat myself up for it to this day urrrgghhhh I was so close! Anyway, 105 means that I’ve pushed myself further than ever before and I will deserve a few hours of passively watching a screen and laughing so hard that my soon-to-be-perfect tummy hurts

100lbs 🔐✨: go shopping at the vegan/organic grocery store, try on my skinny clothes (I’ll tell about that in a bit), get my AirPods back. Music is my favorite thing in the world but I hate listening to it on my phone speakers.  No AirPods means no music while I walk my dog either, which is one of my favorite parts of the day along with my morning dance parties while no one is home. Dancing around the house for an hour or two does absolute wonders for my mood and is just so much fun in general. When I get my AirPods back I can return to having morning dance parties, only this time I’ll be skinny and free and light on my feet. Music hits different when you aren’t self conscious about how you look dancing to it...

I can’t cheat and just give myself access to the things I’ve taken away. No weight loss, no getting my things back, no excuses! Everything in this world has to be earned. If you want it, work for it.

Motivation 🌿

I have a folder of thinspo saved that I look at every day

I voice recorded myself reading a list of positive affirmations I made about weight loss that I listen to while I meditate (I may share the list some day idk)

I have my stack of skinny clothes on my dresser as a reminder of what I’m working for. My skinny clothes are all of the tight shirts, crop tops, high waisted jeans, etc that I either accidentally bought too small or grew out of years ago. They are some of my favorite clothes but bc of my own bad eating habits over the years, I haven’t been able to wear them in forever. I donated about half of my clothes last year but I decided to keep these bc I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I deserve to wear my cute ass clothes. I paid for them and I want my moneys worth! I’m wearing my fucking clothes do you hear me?!

My mom noticed my fat and laughed about it to my sister when I was getting dressed for homecoming. A few years later my other sister noticed I was sucking in my stomach when I showed her my new tank top and pointed it out. A few months ago my brother-in-law saw me stepping on the bathroom scale and he was visibly shocked at the number. I never want to feel another shameful experience like those again. I will make sure it never happens.

I’ve been trying to lose weight since I was about 14 years old but all I’ve done is gain and gain and gain. That’s so many years of hiding my body, taking selfies from the neck up, constantly sucking in, and feeling self conscious. I’m sick of it. I’m done with it. I am NOT going back

The obesity epidemic in America is REAL. It’s almost as if every food company here is personally recruiting people to join the obesity club. No disrespect to those who have already become members but I politely decline my invitation to join you. Thanks for the offer though...

Plan 🌾

500 calories is my daily max. I don’t expect to hit 500 but it’s there for just in case

Every morning I will weigh myself and post it

I will post everything I eat and show screen shots from any apps I use to track things

I am holding myself accountable to reach my GW within 30 days. One month of hard work for ultimate satisfaction. I’m not someone who puts looks above everything else but I’ve wanted this for so many years. Trust me, I’m gonna be hella satisfied and rightfully so! 😤

When I reach 100lbs, my TDEE will be about 1,900 calories a day to maintain my weight if I start exercising moderately every week. If I don’t exercise it will be about 1,400-1,500 calories. I don’t just want to be skinny, I want to have a healthier lifestyle as well, so I plan to keep exercising. I actually look forward to being the skinny girl that you see jogging every morning bc she’s just so hEaLtHy. It should take me a week or two to slowly work up to eating that amount of calories again without a bunch of weight gain after restricting for so long, but then I can stay on it consistently. There will obviously be days here and there where I go over (holidays especially) but as long as I don’t make a habit out of going over my TDEE which is how I got fat in the first place, I should be fine.

Read my daily posts if you want to see discipline and success in action. Feel free to send me some encouraging words ♡. We hitting goal weights in 2019 baby!!!!

#thinspo #thiinpso #ed #skinny #mypost

[forestwater87]

Are you still doing the ship meme? Well, I have a challenge for you: (evil grin) DAVID, DANIEL AND GWEN IN A POLY RELATIONSHIP! :D

Oh, sweet Moses. I normally do these from oldest received to newest out of fairness, but … Christ.

Let’s do it, then:

hell no | how about no | eh | kinda cute i guess | that’s adorable | omg omg yes | otp | you’re fucking kidding right i’m dying because of these two

So here’s the thing: if it includes dan//vid, I tend to be in the “hell no” category. If it has any Gwen whatsoever, the lowest I can possibly give it is “eh” because I love her beyond all reason. So I’m splitting the difference on this one.

and i’ll also tell you who:

proposes

Fucking … how would any of this even happen, though? There is no universe where I can get these three together that makes literally any sense. Fuck. Fucking. Goddamn it.

I mean, obviously it’s David, right? Who else would it be? Gwen isn’t gonna propose to Daniel and risk being humiliated – seriously, the closest I can see between them is some sort of kismeses kinda thing, where they both can’t stand each other but keep falling into bed (at least in part for that very reason). David is the glue that holds them together, if anything could. His heart is very full of love and it can sorta spackle over some of the rougher patches (maybe. Maaaaybe).

shops for groceries

Daniel’s presumably at least in part wanted by the cops, and not even Davey can be trusting enough to let Dan anywhere near food. And Gwen … she probably actually ends up doing it the most, even though I initially assumed it’d be David because he’s such a go-getter. But the thing is, David’s a real go-getter when it comes to things he’s actually interested in, but a lot of the times he leaves the grown-up stuff to Gwen to take care of, and I imagine this would be one of them.

kills the spiders

Daniel, hands-down. Gwen would, absolutely, but Dan gets there first and honestly … he probably wanted it more … Gwen just sorta retreats and thinks for a long, long time about why she’s in this goddamn nightmare of a relationship again.

And then David comes to her room and asks if she’ll say a few words about the dead spider, not really because he has any strong feelings about a dead bug but because it gives him a chance to compliment her talents with words and get her mind off their weird boyfriend-roommate-thing, and she remembers.

comes home drunk at 3am

That’s all of them, undoubtedly. Gwen, because she insists she has to be drunk to make Daniel’s presence bearable; Daniel, because he won’t be outdrunk by Gwen of all people (and if you think they’re gonna have sloppy blackout sex in the bar’s bathroom you’re wrong, but only because David will find them and herd them back to decency); and David, because he’s convinced he has a better tolerance than he does, and always gets distracted by the fruitiness of the drinks he favors and forgets how much alcohol they actually have.

makes breakfast

David. Gwen is still asleep, and while Daniel is awake, he’s probably off skulking around doing something cult-y and doesn’t remember to eat most of the time, anyway, so David has to cajole them both into getting some food in them before they stagger out to do their bullshit camp bullshit. (Dan and Gwen’s words, not David’s. Obviously.) 

remembers to feed the fish

David is meticulous about feeding the fish – in theory. He does keep getting swept away by other things, so while he made a very careful and colorful feeding chart, he also usually doesn’t remember until late in the evening, at which point he panics and rushes back to the cabin. Where he finds out that Gwen’s already fed the fish, because she’s the goddamn grownup in this relationship and at the camp and just deserves the world (okay, got off track there, sorry). 

I could actually kinda see Daniel picking up the slack with the fish, if Gwen was busy and David was off doing his David things. Very reluctantly, and only because he doesn’t want to have to deal with the guilt-grief David would collapse into if he let the fish die, but I also think Dan’s strict adherence to rules could lend a kinda OCD compulsion to it; like once he starts doing something, he keeps doing it because … well, that’s now a Thing he Does. (Gwen//vid could probably get him into a decent number of good – or at least less-bad – habits in that way, come to think of it.)

decorates the apartment

Oh, David. Gwen has a few items she will not part with, so they become part of the decor (if you think the Werewolf of the Month calendar is going anywhere you got another think coming), and Daniel probably would as well, but those things are cult things and are under no circumstances being displayed anywhere in the homestead. He probably has, like, a shed where he keeps his weird cult shit and David and Gwen try not to think about it.

Their place would be adorable and woodsy and absolutely only suit David’s tastes, but somehow the other two don’t mind. It’s … nice, being surrounded by David-ness all the time. It’s cozy.

initiates duets

Oh god, David and Daniel sing all the time. I refuse to think of it as anything too mushy because that makes me a tiny bit ill, but I feel like any duets would either start out or end up as lowkey competitions, because neither of them has any chill and both want to be the best at everything, ever, all the time.

As much as I love the idea of Daniel and Gwen having some sort of “Better Than You”-style song rivalry, I can’t see Gwen ever being up to singing in public and that makes me sadder than anything in the entire world. Because it’d be so fucking great and I want it so bad.

falls asleep first

Do David or Daniel sleep? Probably not, let’s be real. So Gwen falls asleep first by default, even though she often stays up til like 1am, because she’s the only one who really sleeps. David is too much of an insomniac, and Daniel is powered by cult juices that no longer require him to sleep or something. 

(Or he’s a crazy fuck. Also a possibility.)

sends the most selfies

Oh, that’s a close call. Gwen takes selfies when she feels cute, David takes them when he remembers to actually be in the frame of whatever he’s taking a picture of/with, and Daniel avoids the camera at all costs because the last picture taken of him was a mug shot and he doesn’t need any updated documentation of his appearance, thank you. 

So basically Gwen//vid are a normal couple and also Daniel’s there, Gollum-ing around in the background.

Kinda a good summary of how I see this poly ship working out, actually.

makes the first move

There are a couple interesting ways this could go – because I’m still stuck on the “how the fuck did we get here?” side of things. Gonna toss out some ideas as they occur to me, in no particular order. Pick your favorite:

David and Gwen were already a couple when Dan showed up, and David was having some Complicated Feelings™ about being attracted to their coworker (and some panic; I don’t feel like David would normally feel conflicted about his sexuality, but if he was already in a relationship it’d absolutely feel like cheating). He finally talks to Gwen – especially if Daniel’s flirting with him, which Daniel would because Daniel’s a dick – and she’s okay with letting him explore that side of himself (though she kinda wishes he’d picked someone who’s less the Absolute Fucking Worst; is he a cult serial killer in this version of events? I don’t know; I’m deliberately not thinking very hard about it because no Daniel-centric ship really works if you think about it). So it becomes something of a V with David in the middle, until at some point I imagine Gwen and Daniel get hammered, into a screaming argument, or both, and then do something they both regret and suddenly they’re kinda all a thing and neither Dan or Gwen are quite sure how to feel about it.

Gwen//vid aren’t together, but one or both of them has had feelings for a while; Daniel swans his way into camp and is all charming and a douchebag and a murdering piece of shit, like he is, and … I think David would be more easily won over, because he’s just so sweet and trusting, and so the two of them start something … I imagine David would keep it secret from Gwen, because he knows she’d disapprove, and it turns out she does but whoops she’s also kinda totally jealous as well because she knew him for way longer and he just … swooped in … And then it all comes out and they realize they’re in Love but hey, Daniel, and again I think the V makes the most sense until something triggers Gwen and Daniel to hook up, at which point it kinda closes into something resembling a triangle.

None of them are in a relationship, someone does something stupid and they end up in a weird “friends/frenemies with benefits” situation but David is too soft for that life so Dan//wen just kinda grit their teeth and get along because they both love David too much to let this go, even though they’d really prefer their current relationship of “hating each other (with occasional and regretted benefits,” which was much more their speed.

I half want to find a version of all this that is happier and fluffier but … I just can’t get there from here. David is maybe sweet enough to forgive Daniel for all the child-murdering stuff (again, don’t think too hard about it or it falls apart), but I think Gwen would see right through Dan’s crap and never reach a point of liking or trusting him, and Daniel would feel the same distaste because he really prefers people who fall for his shenanigans and feels unsafe around someone who so clearly isn’t buying any of what he’s selling.

plans spontaneous trips

Where the fuck are they going to go? Who is going to be in charge of that? How on earth do we get there from here?

Seriously, this ship makes no goddamn sense and I do not know what to do with any of this noise. How dare you, Anon. 

How so very dare you?

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #what the fuck even would this ship name be? #danvidwen #i guess it's danvidwen #ask forest #ship meme #oh my god kill me #this was insanely difficult and i hate all of it #i mean i will always love daniel and gwen sniping at each other because that's classic ddau fun #but adding romance to it? #and i made david wayyyy too sweet and sunshiny here but he'd have to be basically a saint to ever forgive daniel enough to date him #and since i don't think he's a 'sex without feelings' sort i don't see a kismeses thing working out for him #so it's gotta be genuine romance #which only works if david is kind and forgiving to the point of seeming brain damage #and you don't think too hard about all the heinous crimes daniel's committed #really it's just a very 'don't think about it' ship all around #so like #don't think about it #Anonymous

[romaniassexdungeon]

J’ai tout ce qu’on rêverait d’avoir (Shiro x Coran)

Summary: Skint student Shiro signs up to a Sugar Daddy finder. Ironically, of course.

Pairings: Shiro/Coran, Sven/Slav, past Alfor/Coran

Warnings: death mentions, adult humour

Notes: Thanks to @phyripo for listening to me ramble about this terrible idea

I don't even know how to explain this. Ever start writing something for a laugh then get weirdly invested in the characters and their backstory? Also I fucking love Shiro x Coran unironically fite me.

AO3 lonk

...

He was doing this ironically, Shiro told himself.

He’d made one damn joke to Matt and in the one hour he’d set aside to take a nap, had been inundated with… websites. Websites he hadn’t even known existed, let alone been aware of how abundant they were. Thanks, Matt. He was now a little less innocent. And had a little less faith in humanity.

In all honesty, Shiro should probably just message Matt back telling him to fuck off and get back to his assignment. Or do a late night food shop. Or do literally anything that wasn’t browsing sugar daddy websites. But his body was on autopilot and he probably couldn’t stop himself if he tried.

He didn’t actually want a sugar daddy, right? It had been a joke! He’d just wanted to vent his frustrations at having yet another asshole treat him like an intruding bug at work because God dammit it wasn’t his fault if a meal wasn’t up to the customers’ standards, or was taking too long. Did he look like some verbal punching bag or something?

Also he was doing his masters degree now, and accumulating more debt than he knew what to do with. He wasn't sure he could pole dance with one arm either.

Could he actually get a sugar daddy to agree to pay off his tuition fees? Or at the very least his maintenance loans and groceries.

No because he wasn’t actually after a sugar daddy!

Most of these websites only accepted female sugar babies anyway. He did find a few that he could join, but for the love of all things good in the world he wasn’t about to for real.

Shiro leaned back in his desk chair, imagining, just for a moment, what it would be like to have a sugar daddy. Horrible. It would be utterly horrible. The image of him wheeling some 90 year old around Abercrombie and Fitch then having lunch at some overpriced boutique restaurant whilst everyone glared at him judgementally because they would all know what the fuck was up was not a pleasant one. And then they’d go back to his penthouse apartment overlooking the Thames and-

Shiro thought he would throw up.

This was a terrible idea.

Thankfully, his phone beeped and gave him an opportunity to think of something else for a second, even if it was his best friend’s lasy ass messaging him on discord from the next room.

DankMattMatt: Yo you check out those links yet?

Shiro scowled at his screen.

DankMattMatt: Reply, coward.

Shiro decided to not do that. Five minutes of staring at the login screen of one of those websites he was not going to join later, and Matt had something else to say.

DankMattMatt: oh MY GOD ARE YOU SIGNING UP TO THEM?????

Shirohfuck: nOOOOOOO

DankMattMatt: you aRE!!!!!

He wasn’t! He swore it!

Shirohfuck: Yes but ironically???

DankMattMatt: ironic sugar daddy?

Shirohfuck: yeh

DankMattMatt: moronic sugar baby

Shirohfuck: No.

Shirohfuck: I can’t think of a good username????

Unsurprisingly, his mind was devoid of any intelligent thought as he told himself over and over again he was mostly curious about what the website looked like once you were set up on it, how it worked and what sort of questions he would be asked.

And maybe to see if there were some guys on there that didn’t look one shag away from a heart attack.

DankMattMatt: hmm

DankMattMatt: How about Takashi_Shirogains

DankMattMatt: because you’re always at the gym working on your gains???

Shiro snorted. The last person who should be talking about gains was Matthew Holt.

Shirohfuck: that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard

Shirohfuck: I love it!

Shirohfuck: I’m not always at the gym though???? Just when I need to de-stress.

DankMattMatt: So all the time??

Fuck you, Matt.

Shiro ignored him and typed in his new, terrible, username. It didn’t matter, really. He was just here to have a look around, and see just what kind of people signed up to this and what kind of messages he’d get.

He was a man of science, and therefore curiosity only came naturally to him.

DankMattMatt: oooh, I got it!

DankMattMatt: fifty-shades-of-shirogrey

Shirohfuck: NO!!!!!!

The next page seemed to relate to the bulk of his profile, either what people could see or what the site would base his matches on. He didn't fucking know. It also looked longer than some of his assignments.

Shirohfuck: holy fuck that’s a lotta questions

DankMattMatt: bring your laptop out here dude I need to see this

Shiro sighed, scooped up his laptop and downed the last of his beer. The idea of signing up to a dating site for a laugh with Matt didn’t seem so bad. He’d probably liveblog it which technically counted as writing down their findings, and therefore it was an experiment not anything else. For science!!!

When he trudged into the living room of their flat he found Matt still working on his drinks cans Christmas tree, a weird tradition they’d had since they’d been freshers, because Matt saw someone do it on the internet and therefore needed to try it himself, the walking meme.

Oh well, saved on buying an actual Christmas tree.

Shiro wondered whether they’d bother buying real decorations this year or, like always, just balance Matt’s pokemon toys and alien waifu figurines on it again. Probably the latter. Who said a Japanese guy and a weeb couldn’t be best friends?

Whilst Matt was occupied with sellotaping energy drinks and beer cans together, their other flatmate, Sabhajit ‘Slav’ Pawar was typing away at a laptop, probably doing something more productive than signing up to - thanks, Matt.

“Oy, sugar pup,” Matt drawled, pulling tape out of his hair, “while you’re up, grab that bottle of Absolute in the cupboard and two shot glasses – wait, Slav?”

“Wot?”

“Wanna watch Shiro sign up to a sugar daddy finder?”

Slav raised an eyebrow at Shiro, who flushed an ugly shade of maroon and buried his face in the kitchen cupboard.

“You know that there’s a 38% chance this is the reality where I fail to hand in my assessment on time?” He did seem to be looking over with interest though.

“Those are pretty good odds,” Matt reasoned, “and besides, how often do you get to see Shiro try and pull creepy old men?”

"Oh, next to zero." Slav nodded, but he still looked unsure. Matt groaned.

“Just bring your work over here. And Shiro? Make that three shot glasses.”

“I’ll definitely be needing it,” Shiro placed the vodka on the coffee table, sweeping empty cans onto the floor and ignoring Matt’s protesting.

“So, if it works out for you, should we all think about signing up?” asked Slav, settling down on Shiro’s other side, just to make sure he was sandwiched between the two terrible enablers.

“You’re dating my brother,” Shiro reminded him, “you’re not allowed.”

“Well I’m gonna,” said Matt, “unless, you know, it doesn’t work out for you Shiro. Our pioneer. Boldly going where no Holt or Pawar has gone before. Or at least I hope my sister has never been on these sites.”

“Thanks,” Shiro scoffed, then his smile fell; “I kinda feel bad, you know? I don’t wanna catfish people.”

“You’re not catfishing anyone,” exclaimed Matt, “you’re literally filling in your profile honestly!”

Shiro chewed his lip. “But what if someone sees my profile and falls in love with me? And I’m just doing it for a laugh.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Yeah I don’t think it’s that kind of website. Slav?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s the chance of Shiro meeting his soulmate on here?”

“Zero point five percent.”

Matt grinned. “See? Now, what profile picture should you use?”

They soon decided a selfie Shiro took on a lads holiday to Ibiza last year really fit the bill, given that he was shirtless and at the beach. It screamed 'I suit luxury, please pamper me'.

“Don’t worry,” Matt assured him, “you’re the best-looking guy I’ve seen. Ever.”

“And with this picture showing off how strong you are,” added Slav, “there is an 80% chance you’ll find a millionaire willing to date you within seconds.”

Shiro wasn’t so sure. “Guys, d’you think a picture without my prosthetic would be better? What if it puts people off?” That being said, why the fuck did he care?

“Shiro,” Matt placed a hand on either side of his face, “I’m gonna be honest with you: if someone has a problem with your prosthetic, they’re not worth your time. Like, even if they’re millionaires, don’t bother. They’re scum and you don’t need them in your life.”

Shiro stared straight into Matt’s eyes, at his steely determination, and nodded. “You’re right, bro.”

“I know I’m right! And besides,” added Matt with a wink, “there are probably people into prosthetic limbs. Like, I bet there’s websites and everything.”

How in the fuck – Shiro was speechless. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know further.

“Well that’s a load of shit,” he mumbled, turning back to his profile.

“I’m fairly certain it’s what Slav has,” commented Matt.

“I just think his arm is cool!” Slav cried, a little too defensively. Shiro wondered if he was qualified to launch himself into space yet.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, “I’ll just keep the picture.” He still had a lot of bullshit questions to get through before he could start nosing at other people’s profiles.

“What’s next?” asked Matt.

“Age, location, simple enough.” Financial information? He chuckled at that. “Where’s the ‘broke as shit’ option?”

“Just pick the lowest bracket I guess,” offered Matt. “Minimal, yeah that sounds about right. Hmm, build?”

“Is there a ‘sculpted’ option?” asked Slav. Shiro snorted.

“Athletic, buddy.” He clicked the box, hoping the profile pic suggested as such; he’d been on some strong cocktails and donner kebabs for the entire week. “I need a heading, apparently, like a title?”

“Space daddy,” said Matt immediately.

“I’m looking for a daddy, genius,” Shiro’s face fell; “I don’t actually have to call them ‘daddy’, do I?” A couple of his exes had taken to calling him that and he'd soon acquired a slight distaste for the word.

“Space puppy?”

“Why do you keep calling me that? Pup?”

Matt scoffed. “Don’t you even know sugar bowl terms? A sugar pup is a male sugar baby. So you, now.”

“I wouldn’t call myself one yet,” Shiro groaned, “the profile’s not complete. There’s still an opportunity for me to pull out.”

“Oh I think there’ll be a few opportunities for you to pull out,” Matt commented, then, when Shiro groaned and cradled his face in his hands, slung an arm over his shoulder, “you kinda walked into that one, buddy.” His other hand was used to execute a terrible high-five with Slav.

“I know and I hate it.”

The three soon decided ‘lost space boy’ was probably a better header.

“Hey you can add more photos,” Slav commented.

“Nice, I guess.” And so Shiro wasted another five minutes trying to decide which photos made him look the most athletic, and handsome. He wanted a wide range of messages, after all, to collect the best data. Science!

“I don’t have children,” he said aloud when they reached the next page, “unless we count you too.”

“Please don’t,” whined Matt, “we’ve both hit on you – that’s weird!”

“Now you know how I’ve felt for the past half hour.”

“Smoke?”

“Nah.”

“Drink?”

“Yes please.” Shiro took another shot before checking the ‘casual drinker’ box. Matt and Slav just judged him silently. Shiro ignored them, filling in his education level instead.

“Oh, an ‘about me’. How fun.” Shiro never knew how to fill out those damned things, but with the help of his two terrible friends, he managed to cobble together a not-totally-terrible description of himself.

Hi, I’m Takashi Shirogane, and I’m a 25 (well, 6 if you only count leap years) y/o postgrad student studying astrophysics. I’d love to become an astronaut one day, or failing that help launch astronauts into the void.

In my spare time, I can usually be found at the gym, or exploring the city. I’m particularly fond of the science museum! I’m a hard worker, and my idea of fun is a well-earned rest, or reading a good book. I like my alone time, but I also value strong friendships with my wonderful bros. So even if we don't hit it off romantically, we can always maintain a friendship!

And now to tell the potentials what he was actually looking for in them.

“Money,” said Matt firmly.

“You can’t put that,” argued Slav, “you have to beat around the bush!”

“I know, damn.”

Shiro ignored them, wondering just what he’d want if he was being serious about this, and began to type.

What I’m looking for is someone to have deep conversations with, someone who will make me feel special and cared for. I don’t want a walking credit card, but someone I can have a fun, adult relationship with. Someone with similar interests would be a bonus too! Not looking for short term or FWB, sorry.

“Not bad,” Matt gave a whistle as Shiro added a few tags, and that was it. Profile complete.

“Well now what?” asked Slav after ten seconds of silence.

“We wait for the daddies to roll in, duh,” Matt rolled his eyes, though Shiro had to wonder how long that would take.

“Oh wait,” he muttered, leaning closer, “my profile hasn’t been activated yet. They have to check all my information, I guess.” And with that thought in mind, the trio dispersed. Shiro made his way into the kitchen, Matt promising to call him if he got any messages, and threw a prawn tikka masala in the microwave. Slav was finally released from his curiosity hostage situation long enough to continue his assessment.

Dinner made – at 1 in the morning – Shiro settled down to have a browse whilst he waited. Apparently, he could make a Wishlist of things he wanted to be bought, but decided against it, much to Matt’s protesting that he needed a new laptop. Shiro told him to go back to his Christmas tree of disappointment.

A two hour nap later, and Shiro had ten messages.

The first message was asking for nudes. The second wanted pictures of his feet, of all things. Shiro decided not to reply to either.

Shiro, Matt and Slav amused themselves by taking turns to do dramatic readings of increasingly creepy messages until they were blushing up to the ears. This continued with each new message, until they got to one that wasn’t as awful. Thankfully.

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: I'm attracted to you like the Earth is attracted to the Sun-with a large force inversely proportional to the distance squared

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: I’m also a fan of your muscles!!!

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: I don’t know why I said that

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: both those things, really!!!!

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: I’m so sorry!!!!

“Fuck that’s actually sweet,” Matt commented.

“Yeah, he seems nice! Or shy, at least.” At last, someone he would actually like to message back.

“Might want to tell him you’re not mad then,” said Slav, “before he completely has a breakdown.”

“Oh, right.”

Takashi_Shirogains: Hey dude don’t worry!

Takashi_Shirogains: Honestly this is the sweetest message I’ve gotten yet??

“Should I send him a silly chat up line back?” he asked.

“Go for it!”

Takashi_Shirogains: Every time i look at you i feel like an astronaut...your beauty makes me float.

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: !! aww!!

“I should probably check what he looks like,” Shiro commented, hurriedly clicking on this strange man’s profile. Hopefully this guy wasn't a munter, or old as fuck. There had been a tiny profile pic, yes, but hardly visible, just an orange blur. Like Garfield's pubes or something.

Now he could see quite the collection of photos.

“That’s… that’s a pretty big moustache,” Matt noted.

It was. It nearly covered his mouth, bright ginger to match his hair. There were two other things Shiro noted immediately, the first one being his love of brightly-coloured shirts – sequins, swirls, the lot. The second one was that his smile: no matter what picture he was in, he always had the goofiest but kindest smile Shiro had ever seen. It certainly put him at ease.

"Could you fucking imagine that thing tickling your balls," exclaimed Matt, still on the moustache, apparently.

Slav gave a whine. "Matt, please!"

"Oh yeah! I'm sure your boyfriend knows all about that."

Shiro mimed throwing up whilst Slav scratched at his patchy beard and moustache. "That's my actual brother you're talking about!"

“45 years old,” Matt commented, ignoring them, “could be worse.”

“Yeah at least he’s not 70,” agreed Shiro. He wasn’t that bad looking either. Yes, the moustache was ridiculous and he was somewhat older, but there was something charming about him, charmingly handsome, even. He looked like he’d be equally able to provide a good joke and the exact comforting comment you needed to hear.

“Even his name is eccentric,” said Slav, “Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe. Who has four names? Especially ones like those.”

“I’ve never met a ‘Coran’ in my life,” Matt added, “didn’t even know it was a name; thought it was a book, to be honest. Then again, if my parents named me that I’d probably end up being a little eccentric.” He already was a little eccentric, but the other two decided not to comment.

Shiro just stared at the photos. Everything about this man was batcrap insane and, for some reason, he absolutely loved it. Maybe he just gravitated towards weirdos, but he wasn’t complaining.

“Dude he’s fucking loaded!” cried Matt, jostling his shoulder and pointing at Coran’s earnings, or what he claimed were his earnings. Shiro tore his eyes away from Coran and his garish shirts to actually study his profile.

Okay, he was a casual drinker too, interested in men, didn’t smoke. Under number of children he’d put ‘prefer not to say’. Shiro wondered what that meant. Did he have like ten?

“Woah, he’s a CEO of his own company,” he commented, “congratulations to him, I guess.”

Matt looked at him curiously. “A little infatuated, are we?”

“He seems nice,” Shiro reasoned.

“Yes but what has he put about himself?” asked Slav, scrolling down.

Matt snorted. “So what’s the probability of this guy being a serial killer?”

“Five percent.”

“I’d risk it. For that money.”

“Did either of you see he was a widower?” asked Shiro with a pang. Poor guy. How did he even bring that up in conversation? Well, not right now, for starters.

“What if he murdered his husband?” asked Matt. Slav looked at him in horror.

“You can’t say that! That’s horrible!”

“It might be true!”

“It’s highly unlikely!”

Shiro just busied himself with reading Coran’s profile and holy fuck did it confirm the man was the strangest human being on the planet.

Erm, hello there, weary internet traveller!!! I, Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, would like to welcome you to my dating page!! I hope you find out what you need to know here, but to help, let me tell you a little about myself. I must say, it is quite the saga!!! I shall try not to tell every story here though, or we’ll have nothing to talk about ourselves!

Forty five years ago, on quite the historic day, I was born in Wellington, New Zealand, with a dream. Although, I probably didn’t have this dream as a baby, I probably dreamt about shitting myself and drinking milk. Anyway! The dream was education!! As a boy, I was fascinated by the world around me, and beyond. My interests were varied, but all relating to science. Then again, I suppose everything relates to science, in a way. I kept a collection of crystals and interesting rocks, whilst simultaneously looking to the stars with my little telescope. I also had a collection of fossils I’d found, and it was safe to say my parents were probably a little relieved when I packed my bags and went off to university!!!!!

It was there that I studied astrophysics whilst maintaining a love of drama and the arts, naturally. In my time I’ve travelled to the US to work with NASA before settling down in the UK, where I remain to this day. Not counting holidays and business trips, I suppose.

I am now the CEO of New Horizons, a company that makes science kits and equipment for the curious child!!!

It has not been an easy climb to the top, and I’ve had to deal with everything up to fighting a bear!!!! Yeah, I don’t live in the US anymore for a reason. I also had some trouble with a shark on holiday to Australia once and it didn’t end well. For the fucking shark!!! Shame, really, I hate hurting animals but you must do what you must in the name of self-defence, right?

I would say I was closest to my grandfather as a boy, and he taught me all he knew about geology! And everything, really.

As well as science, my hobbies include museums, watching plays, writing screenplays, water skiing, butterfly collecting, yodelling, flying, engineering and dance. I also love spending time at the beach!

I speak various dialects of English, as well as Māori, French and Mandarin, and apparently, I can do quite a convincing range of accents! I also love learning new languages, so if you speak a language I do not, never fret! I will soon learn it for you, my future dear!

I'll also just say it right fucking now: I will drink you under the table!!!

My favourite colour is baby blue and my favourite films are ‘what we do in the shadows’ and ‘hunt for the wilderpeople’.  I listen to anything really, though I prefer classical and jazz. I have heard some of your young people music, though, and I must say I’m fucking impressed!!!

Oh fuck, it seems I’m running out of characters. Well, I hope that was enough to glean something of my personality.

Cheerio!

“I love him,” Matt muttered, “like, I wish he was my uncle or something. Or even just a guy I could go on the piss with. I’d probably end up dead but it’d still be the best night of my life!”

“I want to listen to all these stories of his,” said Slav, “he’s probably a genius!”

“Not as big a genius as you though,” said Matt, “is there anything you don’t know?”

“How to be emotionally stable?”

“Dude, same.”

“I’m speechless,” muttered Shiro, silencing them both. This couldn’t be a real person, surely. His mind seemed incapable of working after reading about Coran’s life, and yet, he was pretty sure he’d be willing to believe it all.

Also, pray tell, what the fuck Coran?

“What does he want though?” asked Slav, “what is he looking for in a person?”

“Himself, probably,” Matt smirked. Shiro ignored him, and read on.

I suppose what I want in a romantic partner is romance, plain and simple - a deep bond and something long term. If that sounds intimidating, I’m sorry and I hope you find someone more to your tastes!!!

I can be incredibly doting, I promise, but I guess I also want long conversations about science and our lives too. I also would like someone not opposed to more cultural days out, though I’m open to fun of a more simplistic nature too!!!

“He means fucking,” said Matt.

Shiro rolled his eyes. “Or going to a club, maybe?”

I’m also partial to discussions regarding conspiracy theories, and am always interested to know which ones you believe, and which you find completely ridiculous. If you have any experiences with aliens, I’d love to hear all about them too!

“Shiro, run. He’s probably part of a cult.” Matt’s jaw had almost hit the floor by now.

“I think he sounds interesting,” Slav sniffed. He, for one, loved a good conspiracy theory, and was certain this was the reality where alien invasion was inevitable.

I don’t want to dwell on the physical, but I do have a thing for muscles!

“He’s your soulmate,” said Matt with such determination that Shiro couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“He is brilliant,” he reasoned.

“Why don’t you message him back then?” asked Slav.

Fuck. He’d forgotten about that little message notification.

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: You still there?

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: I haven’t scared you off, have it?

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: Ooops, in that case I’m sorry!

“I’d have messaged him quicker if his profile wasn’t so damn long. And terrifying.”

Takashi_Shirogains: No no! I was just reading your profile!

Takashi_Shirogains: Interesting life!

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: Why thank you!!! All true, I can assure you!!!

Takashi_Shirogains: good to know!

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: nice to meet another scientist, may I add!!

Takashi_Shirogains: same!

Takashi_Shirogains: nice to meet someone who doesn’t want dick pics

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: Now I never said I didn’t

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: I’m joking!!!!!

Takashi_Shirogains: good to know omg

“He’s not joking,” Matt insisted.

“Shut up.”

Takashi_Shirogains: so what brings you to the sugar bowl?

Takashi_Shirogains: I mean I signed up for a laugh but you seem nice so?

“I had to be honest about that,” he explained, “I’m not catfishing this sweet old man!”

It was imminently clear from Matt’s face that Shiro had said something dumb as fuck. “Okay, firstly, you’ve used all your correct information, so it’s not catfishing, still, and secondly, maybe he’s catfishing you. Also he’s on a website in the hopes of basically paying people to date him.”

Shiro gave a pout. Although he hated to admit it, Matt had a point.

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: Sugar what?

Takashi_Shirogains: sugar bowl

Takashi_Shirogains: you know, what this whole scene is called, apparently. Idk that’s what my roommate said anyway

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: scene?

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: like, online dating? I’ve never done this before, I have to admit.

Matt snorted. “He’s either senile or majorly taking the piss.”

Or both, Shiro supposed.

Takashi_Shirogains: …

Takashi_Shirogains: like… sugar daddies and sugar babies??? This is what this website is for??? it's not my kink but i'm not judging???

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: hold on I need to google some things.

It took a full minute to receive Coran’s reply.

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: …

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: ..,

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: my

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: my son said this was a website for successful people

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: I was wondering why no one I matched with seemed to be in the same bracket financially

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: not that I have a problem with that! It just confused me

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: Takashi????

Shiro wanted to reply, but Matt was buried in his chest, laughing with tears streaming down his face. Slav was on the floor, and Shiro wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the guy laugh so hard. He himself was certain he’d have a ten-pack by the time he’d stopped laughing.

Takashi_Shirogains: OH MY GOD

Takashi_Shirogains: you poor man!!

Takashi_Shirogains: are you oka y????

Takashi_Shirogains: Also call me Shiro everyone else does

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: I’m so embarrassed!!!!!!

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: I asked my son and he fessed up but he won’t stop laughing!!!!!

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: This is almost as bad as the time he added gimp masks to my shopping list and I actually asked the guy at tesco if they sold them because I didn’t know what a gimp mask was.

Takashi_Shirogains: how in the fu

Takashi_Shirogains: ck

Takashi_Shirogains: holy shit

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: yeah, that sums it up pretty nicely, Shiro

“So… how do you feel about being a stepdad?” asked Slav, “your sugar daddy might not be a sugar daddy but he’s at least a dad?”

“Fuck, he has a kid.” Shiro blew his tuft of hair out of his face, sinking back into the chair. He honestly didn’t know what to make of that information.

Takashi_Shirogains: so you have a son?

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: I have 3 kids

Takashi_Shirogains: holy fuck

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: yaa I didn’t want to put it on my profile because it might attract creeps

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: sorry if that puts you off but I should mention my kids will always come first???

Takashi_Shirogains: yeah no I understand! It just came as a little shock but I don’t mind!!

He wasn’t sure he didn’t mind, but that would be something he’d have to think about later.

Takashi_Shirogains: how old are they?

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: a little younger than you actually. My oldest just started uni!!!

“At least you’re not gonna be a toyboy who’s younger than his own kids,” Matt reasoned.

“Never call me that again.”

Takashi_Shirogains: so you don’t need me to babysit?

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: haha no!!

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: oh, you weren’t expecting an actual sugar father, were you?

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: sorry to disappoint you

CoranCoranGorgeousMan: although I could try that if you want?

Takashi_Shirogains: no it’s fine! Like I said, I signed up for a laugh. Uni life got me broke and all

Takashi_Shirogains: also it’s sugar daddy omg

Shiro didn’t know what happened, but somehow he ended up talking to Coran throughout the night, eventually passing out on the sofa long after Matt and Slav had dragged themselves to bed. They talked about themselves, their lives and Coran’s children, and when Shiro woke up the next afternoon, he felt strangely giddy and lightheaded. He'd signed up ironically; what the hell happened?

#shiran #coran #vld shiro #takashi shirogane #matt holt #slav vld #coran hieronymus wimbleton smythe #coran x shiro #voltron fanfic

[tanyaodebra]

You 2.4: “The Good, the Bad, & the Hendy” – A Finished Basement

Before I begin this episode’s recap, I want to give a hat tip to my friend Trina who explained that love and forty are the lowest and highest scores in tennis, respectively. I will never know a sports reference and I’m kind of offended they would sneak one into my program. You was originally slated to be on Lifetime, so our touchstones should be solely comprised of femme shit for an audience of gaydies! But to my original point, Love and Forty’s parents must really be assholes, because naming your kids after tennis is an outrage. They might as well have named them Standard and Poor. Also, whenever anyone is like, “aw, it’s so sweet that your name is Love, your parents must be hippies,” she has to be like, “actually, it means zero in tennis, because my parents are rude yuppies.” Eventually we’ll meet these parents, probably in some sort of vile display of their blood money.

Let’s crack this shit open, starting with the fellatio interruptus. Love is about to pour herself a cup of Joe when Forty calls. Instead of simply chatting real quick then getting back to the best part of waking up, Love decides to multitask. NEVER WOULD I EVER perform a sexual act of any kind while talking on the phone to my brother. Gross. And due to the magic of twindom, Forty clearly knows she’s hooking up with Joe in that very moment even though she’s been keeping their relationship secret. Double your pleasure, double your gross. Post coitus, Love discovers Joe’s telescope, pointing out that her apartment can be seen from it. The big bad wolf simply states the truth; all the better to spy on her with. Seems like she should have pushed the issue, but maybe she’s into being surveilled. Later on, Love delivers her own no-no, albeit not nearly as frightening as Peeping Joe’s – she springs a surprise meal with her friends on him. Forty initiates a brunchus interruptus and flips his shit about Love’s secret boyfriend. Joe decides the only way to keep Love happy is to keep Forty happy, so he pretends to go whole hog on the ménage à twin. Luckily Forty is a simple soul, so he easily accepts Joe’s writing, brunch and beach offerings.

Our teen queen reigns supreme, having discovered the spyware on her phone. But Ellie missteps, though she doesn’t realize it; she blames Delilah instead of Creepy Joe. No problem – Joe keep tabs on Ellie via Henderson’s jacktop instead. With a little help from Will, Joe busts into Hendy’s apartment and locates his trophies, a cigar box filled with Polaroids hidden under a loose tile in the sex dungeon. Then he pulls a classic dude move, which is to believe he knows more about a woman’s profession than she does. He plants Hendy’s photos at Delilah’s doorstep, assuming it’s all she needs to expose Henderson’s pedophilia. Wrong. According to her fuck-buddy cop (Danny Vasquez), the photos have no context, especially since Delilah doesn’t want to out herself as one of Hendy’s survivors. In white-knighting a capable woman, he’s royally fucked up the whole operation. Joe’s sexism led him here. Had he trusted Delilah to do her job herself, perhaps Henderson would have faced the consequences his actions deserved. Instead Hendy got some bullshit vigilante punishment, which is a deeply unsatisfying ending for his victims.

I’m not ashamed to admit when I am wrong, and I was definitely wrong about Henderson’s fate. Creepy Joe does not have the self-awareness to understand how similar he is to Hendy – how he, too, stalks, grooms, drugs, abducts, and takes trophies. Joe believes that because he doesn’t rape, he is somehow better than Henderson. They are both total fucking scum, but one rapes and the other murders. One of these things is way worse than the other, and if you believe rape is worse, you might be a sexist monster. Henderson uses his celebrity to lure Ellie, the teen Joe is stalking, to his rape pad. Joe has already broken into Hendy’s house when Ellie arrives, so he’s able to witness Henderson’s slick technique to manipulate Ellie into practically forcing her way into his place whilst all but guaranteeing she’ll never tell anyone she was ever there. It’s painful to watch Ellie; I never listened to the older women in my life when I was her age even though they were right and I was wrong. She makes every classic mistake: hanging out alone, staying late, and accepting a beverage. She thinks they’re friends. She has never come into contact with such a good liar before. She hasn’t yet learned that no amount of cool, smarts, humor, or good taste will stop a predator. She doesn’t know how charming predators can be. Just like Joe, Hendy is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A scotch for himself and a juice for the young lady makes Henderson seem like the perfect gentleman – until the GHB comes out. Joe creates a distraction so he can drug Hendy’s scotch, too. Once Ellie and Hendy are out for the count, Joe sets up shop in the sex basement. When Hendy comes to, he’s been blindfolded and tied to a chair. Wearing a Hendy mask, Joe attempts to force a confession from Henderson, but Henderson isn’t a dummy. He tells Joe about having been molested as a kid, and says he can tell Joe went through something similar. He tries again and again to draw parallels between the two of them, but Joe won’t have it. Henderson manages to knock over the chair and escape, but only briefly. As Henderson runs up the stairs, Joe grabs him and flings him back down the stairs, accidentally smashing his head against the cement wall. Hendy is dead.

The clean-up for this little mishap is very messy. A little blood drips out of Joe’s nose, but before he can clean it up, the robotic vacuum is taking a crack at the puddle under Hendy’s head, which mixes their blood together. Joe does his best to mitigate the mixing by mopping the edges to make a smaller blood-pool, and he dashes off with the plasma-soaked robo-vac as well as Hendy’s headphones. Is jay-walking a big deal in LA? As a New Yorker, I definitely wouldn’t have known this and neither did Joe, because he gets nabbed on the way to the dumpster with a trash bag full of evidence. Oh-oh. The cop is Delilah’s fuck-buddy. Joe gets a little reprieve when the cop looks no further than the top of the bag where Hendy’s limited-edition headphones rest. Joe, claiming everything was going to Goodwill anyway, offers them up to the officer, who accepts and cuts Joe loose. Hopefully those headphones will come in handy later.

Back in the secret room of Joe’s own earlier in the episode, Will negotiates his severance package. Will promises to flee to the Philippines, never to speak of any of this again. But how can Joe possibly believe him? Once again, Will attempts to prove his loyalty by assisting Joe – this time by disabling Hendy’s security system. He tries to get Joe to see that killing Henderson is an act of a deeply disturbed person, telling Joe that he’s confident he won’t kill Hendy, because he’s not a bad guy. He’s definitely smarter than I originally gave him credit for, because he plays on Joe’s need to be perceived as being and doing good. And after Joe kills Hendy, he’s pretty desperate to prove to himself and to Will that being a killer does not preclude him from being a good guy. Joe takes Will’s advice and does the one thing that will prove that he’s good – he releases Will. Is Will really going to be so content with freedom that he doesn’t turn Joe in? Sounds like Will has some pretty shady shit in his past, so it’s possible he doesn’t want this kind of heat. Maybe he’ll just slink out of the country in order to avoid the spotlight of a high-profile court case. But what name will he use now? How will he deal with the consequences of identity theft? Maybe Will won’t go gently into that good night after all. We’ll just have to wait and see.

This episode also has a series of dreams and flashbacks about Joe’s childhood. Looks like dad’s a beater and mom’s a cheater. After mom takes a four-hour “date” when she’s supposed to be grocery shopping, Joe winds up on the receiving end of dad’s ire. Mom rewards Joe for keeping her secret, and she promises Joe that one day she’ll kill his father. I’m relieved the audience won’t be able to simply heap all the blame on the mother, and I’m curious to see where this is going.

When I saw Ambyr Childers’ name in the top-of-show credits I knew we were in for a fun time, and luckily I had forgotten all about it by the end. Joe sends Forty to SXSW Pitch in order to extricate him from Love’s time and immediate vicinity. This move backfires when Love hops a plane in order to be Forty’s sober companion. While in Austin, Forty makes a romantic connection and insists that he and Love need to get a third plane ticket to bring this woman back to LA. Is this a ghost I see before me? No. It’s Candace. Or, rather, Amy. So, it looks like Candace is indeed alive and well and not just a figment of Joe’s imagination. I am not totally ruling out a collaboration between Love and Candace, but it’s looking more unlikely now that Forty’s in the crosshairs. I cannot wait to see what this bitch is up to. See You next time!

#you season2 episode4 netflix recap

[nessackerman]

RFA (+Saeran & V) x Reader -A girl’s chocolate eaten!

Okay, here it is!!! *feels acomplished (ಥ﹏ಥ)* x3

First of all, Saeyoung’s HC is safe for you to read, don’t worry my dear friend, but the rest of them are a little suggestive ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (Kisses, Innuendos... I wanted to spice it up a little, I’m sorry if that bothers you, I really hope it doesn’t, there’s no smut, I swear, it’s just a little spicy)

I really hope you enjoy! ٩(♡ε♡ )۶

SAEYOUNG / 707

He already ate a bag or two of Honey Buddha Chips, so he thought... He innocently thought that he could eat that delicious chocolate without being charged for treason.

He clearly didn’t know how a girl’s fury can be worse than that of the devil.

“But... but... I swear, babe, I-I...just...” He said nervously, trying to get to calm you down.

“Ah-ah, no babe, no...” You shook your head and looked him straight on his eyes “IT’S MY CHOCOLATE YOU’VE EATEN... Not Saeran’s, not Vanderwood’s... but MINE” You pointed your finger at him and lightly poked his chest with it “YOU DON’T KNOW HOW BAD THAT IS!” You yelled, you were mad as hell and you sure were scaring the shit out of him.

You only wanted to eat the last precious piece of chocolate you PURPOSELY hide to eat when you were feeling down. It’s your survivor’s kit, it’s everything you needed and wanted. Your. Damn. Chocolate. 

You were just trying to teach him a valuable lesson, a very, very valuable one.

“It’s just... I don’t think you value your HBC enough, nor your guts, if you dare to eat what was mine, you know, I should do the same to you...” You hummed in approval and headed to the kitchen and smirked when he stopped you. 

“Okay, okay, babe, please...” He said, his face white and his eyes those of a puppy. “I’m gonna buy you all the chocolate you want, just don’t eat them, please, I won’t eat your chocolate again, I swear!” He put his hands like he was praying, trying to make it all more credible.

“I know you won’t” You softly laughed at his reaction, you couldn’t hold it anymore, your little fake angry moment was worthy after all.

You hugged him, hiding your face on his chest and snuggled, he smelled really good. He grapped his arms around you in response and kissed the top of your head. You felt him smiling.

That’s all you needed at the end of the day.

SAERAN

He didn’t care about it, he didn’t give a shit if it was yours, Saeyoung’s or the fucking devil’s.

He wanted it. He ate it. End of story.

But he didn’t know how mad you could get, you were always been sweet and caring... Challenging? Sure, but not angry, not ever. And he was way too surprised when you yelled to be able to reply to you. 

Until he got tired. 

“SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP. NOW!” He screamed back and you gasped in surprise, so you instantly backed up and did as he said “You don’t have to yell at me, I'll buy you a damn ton of chocolate if that’s what you want!” He told you, a frustrated look on his face.

“I just wanted to eat that chocolate...” You told him in the lowest voice you had and pout, avoiding his gaze so he couldn’t see you blush. You weren’t going to yell at him again, he sure as hell was scarier than you would ever be in your whole life. 

You saw from the corner of your eye that he was back to normal. He had a playful smile on his face while he approached you and hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your right shoulder.  

“I could make you forget about chocolate... I have a million ways to do that if you wanna try” He whispered in your ear and then he lightly bit your earlobe and your whimper turned in to a soft moan when he licked it and started kissing your neck.

You sure forgot about the damn chocolate. 

V / JIHYUN

Oh boy, there’s no way you can get mad with him. NO. WAY. 

He’s a sweetheart... He suffered a lot... You just can’t get mad at him.

But he starts noticing your pouty face and the way you’re not as clingy and cheerful with him as you usually are and he knows.

“Darling... I’m sorry I ate your chocolate” He sighed and sit next to you on the couch “We can go buy more now and take a walk as we go, it’s a wonderful day and the weather’s perfect...” He said with a hopeful smile on his lips, and you couldn’t hide your own tender smile while you nod in agreement. 

He softly kissed you afterwards, with his right hand stroking your cheek as a way to redeem himself. 

HE IS SO FUCKING SWEET. 

OMG. MY POOR HEART. 

JUMIN HAN

I bet my ass he’s the colder, smutty version of V... I bet my ass, people.

And I don’t think he’s that much into chocolate or sweets in general, but he’s human, at least he wanted to try to eat a bit for once? So he did.

You wouldn’t dare to yell at him, but still you were a little flustered with it... At least he could have choosen another day to do so.

You were so damn obsessed with that piece of chocolate throughout the day that when you got home and didn’t found any... You could have killed someone in that moment.

So when he gets home and sees the frustrated expression on your face he notices something’s going on. You didn’t even greeted him when he arrived, that fact alone is like a neon sign screaming that you’re angry at him.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I know I can I make you feel better” He said and grabbed your waist until your body collided with his body, burning holes on your skin from his touch alone “You just have to tell me what you want, and I’ll provide” He whispered againts your lips before he hungrily kissed them.

You suddenly forgot what you were mad for and focused on continue breathing. Because boy, he sure was breathtaking. The hottest husband there’s to exist.

Fuck chocolate.

YOOSUNG

Yeah, he’s a baby boy and he’s sweetheart and he’s the love of your life and he can do nearly whatever he wants and you don’t get mad at him but oh, not your chocolate. NOT. YOUR. CHOCOLATE. No, boy, no touchy. 

But, oh, he was eating it in front of you and wasn’t offering you any. 

When he was licking his fingers clean he noticed some evil, scary aura near him. It was at this moment that he knew he fucked up.

“YOOSUNG KIM, I SWEAR TO GOD YO-” He literally run to your bedroom and locked the door. He fucking locked the door. 

You headed there and lightly knocked at the wood door with your knuckles “Baby, open the door ~ ” You sing-songed.

“No, you won’t fool me, that was fucking scary... I’m not opening this door, not ever!!” He shouted from behinf the door, his breathed uneven and his voice trembling.

“Yoosung, for God’s sake, I just wanted you to go shopping for more...” You said, regretting you had yelled to him, you didn’t want to scare him to death like that, not that much at least. 

“I don’t believe you...” He said, hesitation clearly hanging on his voice. 

“Stop being a child and open the door, Yoosung” You said with a sweeter tone this time “We need to go grocery shooping anyways, so at the end it was a good thing you ate that chocolate...” You tried to convince him, and a minute later he opened the door with caution and looked at you, waiting for a punch or something to fly his way.

But it didn’t happen, so he stepped out of the room and approached you, still cautious. You hugged him without warning and hid your face on the crook of his neck, gently leaving butterfly kisses there, making him giggle and relax under your soft touches. 

Who said grocery shopping? Who needs chocolate? Not you.

JAEHEE

I’m sorry, you can’t run out of chocolate if you own a café, it would be a sin. 

You and Jaehee never run out of chocolate. There’s chocolate in the kitchen, but not the one you wanted, she ate your favorite chocolates. AND. THAT. IS. A. CRIME. 

“Yes ma’am, that’s what it is. My favourite ones...” You chuckled, still surprised to found Jaehee ate them ALL “You should be ashamed of your behaviour, my lady, if you were that hungry you could have eaten something else...” You told her, clearly trying to make an innuendo.

Her breath hitched and she blushed like mad, her face obviously trying to match the colour of the cherries “I... Yo-you... I mean... Do you want me to...?” He asked, her gaze not meeting yours.

“Oh... No, baby, I was just trying to make you feel a little uncomfortable, just kidding sweetie, don’t worry...” You smiled tenderly “But you should pay the price now... What about a cheesecake with raspberry’s mermelade?” You wiggled your eyebrows in a funny, suggestive way to convince her. 

But oh, girl, she wasn’t in the mood for that.

“Y/N... You can’t offer me the finnest delicacy and then ask me to make a common meal” She said, looking at you with an intensity you weren’t used to. 

You were damn shooked. For a moment you thought you were too dirty minded to understand her words but, ah-ah, no-no... She said what she said.

“Oh God...” Now you’re the one blushing.

ZEN

You were really angry. REALLY ANGRY.

When he arrived home from his rehearsals you immediately faced him and held the empty envelope of your favorite chocolate in front of his face. 

He was surprised for a moment but then he smiled.

“WHY ARE YOU SMILING!? YOU SHOULD BE SCARED!” You yelled, furiously waving the empty envelope.

“Owwwww! You look so sexy when you’re angry!” He yelled back, a face that showed how in love he was with you. He can’t get angry with you, he just can’t.

He grabbed your hips and lifted you up effortlessly, without warning, you gasped in surprise and got hold of his neck to steady yourself, then you wrapped your legs around his waist, suddenly forgetting why you were angry in the first place. 

“Now you have awakened the beast, are you happy?” He told you, lust spilling from his voice, from his every pore. 

“Wow, you’re going to fast, babe” You asked, trying your best not to laugh.

“There’s one thing I’m not fast at... Wanna check, princess?” He smirked and you chuckled, still not used to his boldness.

“Of course I wanna, fuck the damn chocolate, now I want you”

He was clearly satisfied with your reply.

Okay...

Comment, like, reblog, whatever you want, just let me know if you liked it!! :3 And please, PLEASE, don’t be shy!! if you are thinking about asking me something, simply talk to me or you want to send a request, DO IT *insert shia meme here* I always cherish every bit of love you give me ❤

And, sorry about the possible mistakes, I also appreciate your advice on writing and content, so I’m all ears if you want to tell me something about it.

Love you ~

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme scenarios #mysme headcanon #mystic messenger mc #rfa members #mystic messenger 707 #saeyoung choi #saeyoung x reader #mystic messenger saeyoung #mysme saeyoung #mysme saeran #saeran choi #saeran x reader #mysme zen #mystic messenger zen #hyun ryu #zen x reader #mystic messenger v #mysme v #jihyun kim #v x reader #mystic messenger yoosung #mysme yoosung #yoosung kim #yoosung x reader #mystic messenger jaehee #jaehee kang #jaehee x reader #mystic messenger jumin han

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shadow And Pills - Part 1 Preview

Summary: Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all. Alexa comes away with a shadow.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Warnings: RAPE, Torture, Abuse, Self Harm, Negative Images of Psychological Services/Mental Health Professionals, Hallucinations, Stalking, Supernatural Horror, Prescription Drug Use and Eventual Abuse, Mental Illness, PTSD, Flashbacks of Violence, Flashbacks of Tragedy, Starving Oneself, Isolation, Physical and Mental Exhaustion, Denial, Self Neglect, Gaslighting, Mental Spiraling, Mental and Emotional Abuse

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This is not a happy story in any sense, at any point. I could only write this at my lowest places, emotionally and mentally speaking, and I had a hard time coming back from it. This is dark, and it does not at any point get lighter. I relied heavily on my own experiences with mental struggles and took a few pieces here and there from my own experiences with mental health professionals. MY EXPERIENCES ARE MY OWN AND ARE NOT TYPICAL, NOT EVEN FOR ME.

Extra thanks to @glassjacket and @thoughtslikeaminefield for not only helping me through this story but also through those dark moments. I wouldn’t be here without both of you. Period. And thank you, @glassjacket for your guidance and textwork on the image. 💙

If you need mental help of any kind, please DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT TO GET IT. This story was an exercise in mental exorcism, in a sense.

For all the Loki lovers out there, I do not shine him anything like a good or redeeming light here. He is evil incarnate, more or less. I love Loki, I love good Loki and redeemed Loki and misunderstood Loki and just about every incarnation thereof. I needed a villain, and he fit the story.

Above all, please be kind. This was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever written, and it took me years to work up the courage to post it.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Word Count: 1 - 3785; 2 - 3513; 3 - 1068

In Case You Missed It: ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Shadows and Pills: Part 1 Preview

Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all.

Alexa comes away with a shadow.

In the weeks following the disaster, the public equally lauds and decries the Avengers, but while their opinions are divided over the heroes, the villain is universally denounced as nothing short of Satan himself, and the city throws an actual celebration the day Thor takes Loki back to Asgard to face the justice of their people.

Alexa, having not turned on her television since the day she got home from the hospital, ignores the boisterous celebrants and goes about her shopping, earbuds firmly in place, frown lines now permanently etched between her eyes and around her pinched lips.

“Routine will help you through some of the worst days,” her therapist tells her during one session. “Something familiar and safe to retreat to when the flashbacks are the worst. Just give it a try,” he adds at her disbelieving grimace.

And so she sets a routine.

Morning Routine: wake up. Ignore alarm, lie in bed an extra thirty minutes or so. Shower. Pretend to eat breakfast. Take meds (this one she never skips or shirks). Find something to wear. Stare at it for another ten minutes. Eventually get dressed. Contemplate keys for another fifteen minutes. Leave the goddamned apartment already.

Her routine has varying results, although she does admit to her therapist that life is marginally more bearable with the routine than without.

“It’s nice to have something to look forward to for the next day.”

Her therapist can’t quite hide his grimace at her flat, deadened tone, but she’s not being sarcastic or rude. She finds that going to bed at night is a trifle easier when she knows what’s going to happen the next day.

“So, who are we up to today?” the doctor asks, switching the subject with awkward abruptness. It’s been six weeks since Hell came to New York, and during their twice-weekly meetings, her therapist suggests going through each of the people she saw die in front of her that day, to get closure...or say goodbye...or something.

Sometimes Alexa wonders whether he just wants to hear the details for his own perverse pleasure.

“Brenda.”

Alexa robotically begins to list the personal details she knows...knew...about her floor manager. Unlike the mail room intern she discussed at their last meeting, the list for Brenda goes on for a while. She’s worked with Brenda since she started at the company, learning most of what she knows about her current job from the woman.

Brenda was kind, sharply intelligent, and mothering to everyone under her supervision, and yet she did it in a way that didn’t make anyone uncomfortable. She balanced work and a family long and well enough to both receive regular promotions within the company and also, very recently, become a new grandmother.

The backs of Alexa’s eyes sting as she remembers the photo Brenda showed her not twenty minutes before part of the building collapsed on top of half the department. Her jaw locks as the scene plays before her eyes again, the explosions and shrieks of metal drowning out the shrieks of the people only five feet away.

She closes her eyes, but there’s no pause button to freeze the scene, no power button to shut the images off as she turns in her memory and runs, making it to the stairwell and slamming the door open, turning back and screaming for Brenda, straining her eyes through the smoke and dust and mountains of falling debris. Brenda is running, reaching for Alexa even though she seems miles away, and then one of the file cabinets is thrown over, propelled faster and harder than should be possible, and...and…

And then Brenda isn’t running anymore. Her outstretched hand, the only part of her that wasn't crushed by office furniture, spasms against the ruined carpet, as if it thinks it’s reached its destination and is grasping at its savior.

Alexa’s hand tingles, and her fingers lock into her palm, nails fitting easily into the little grooves she dug there weeks ago. No blood, she only dug that deep once, but the furrows remain as permanently etched there as the frown lines on her face.

Alexa struggles to take in a labored breath as her therapist watches her with the appropriate amount of professional, clinical sympathy and detachment.

“Do your counting,” he reminds her.

How could she forget? She counts to three once, letting a breath out at the end. She repeats the process twice more, ignoring her therapist’s brief flash of annoyance at her departure from his “system.” But, for once, he doesn’t ask her why she has to deviate from the standard one-to-ten method and just lets her do the goddamned counting in peace.

Small blessings.

“Have you had any flashbacks since our last session?”

She stares at him, letting her gaze rest heavy and disbelieving as she turns his question over. She’s been averaging about five flashbacks a day, triggered by everything from accidentally brushing a stranger on the sidewalk (Jim knocking past her to get down the stairs just as the door on the stairwell behind her explodes inward; more shrieking, then falling, then dark) to lifting a carton of cold milk from the shelf at the grocery (that impossibly cold hand grasping hers, pulling her up from the rubble, bringing her face to face with...something...something in the...shadows, it was so dark there, and…).

“Yeah. I’ve had some flashbacks since our last session.”

“What sort of coping strategies did you use?”

He’s not even meeting her eyes now, just getting notes down on that damned pad. The scratching of his pen grates into her bones, and Alexa grits her teeth as she glares.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

She slowly recites the list of strategies he suggested during a previous session, none of which have proven particularly effective at lessening the frequency of the episodes, but most of which she grudgingly admits provide some slight relief afterwards and allow her to refocus her mind on the present rather than dwelling in the memory.

“And the shadows?”

How can he get this wrong every time when he’s taking all those fucking notes?

“Still just the one.”

“Has it manifested in any other way? Asked you to do anything? Do you feel different in any way when you notice it?”

There’s a distasteful eagerness to his words that always turns Alexa’s stomach, and she has to physically bite into her tongue to keep from asking what kind of bonus he gets for each symptom she shows of different mental illnesses.

“It’s just there sometimes. I..” She hesitates, feeling vaguely nauseated from his questions, but she has to be honest, right? Because, ultimately, it’s his job to help her, and she’s never going to get through this by hiding symptoms. He can’t help fix her if he doesn’t know what’s broken, and he did suggest the routine, so, okay, he gets a pass for this one.

“I still mostly only see it before I’m falling asleep. I’ve started seeing it in the late afternoon, as well, not often, but sometimes. Always in shadows that are already there. It doesn’t talk or anything, doesn’t really have any face or form except for vaguely person-shaped, but it...it watches me. And it’s...denser than it was last week. More...it’s thicker than it was, like when you see wispy clouds kind of...gather and turn into storm clouds?”

He nods, his pen whizzing over the legal pad he records their session notes on. “So, you feel threatened by the shadow? Like it’s storm clouds gathering to...what? It feels menacing?”

But, like most of the questions Alexa fences in this office, this one isn’t easily answered.

“It feels like it’s watching me, waiting for something. I don’t know what. I don’t...I don’t know if it’s menacing, exactly. Like, it feels potentially dangerous, but I can’t tell if it’s for me. I don’t know. It’s just...darker and more there this week, but it doesn’t do anything, and I don’t feel different, and it doesn’t speak to me. I. Don’t. Hear. Voices.”

She clips off each word at the end of her rant separately and precisely, repeating her counting in her head, and she forces her breathing to even out. The doctor is just doing his job, he’s just trying to help, he’s supposed to ask these questions, it’s how he helps-

“Hmm. I’ll have to consider that between now and our next meeting. In the meantime, go ahead and move up to the next dosage step with your meds, keep it on the escalating schedule we set.”

You set, she thinks mutinously for a moment before internally shaking her head. She nods, biting her tongue once more. She’s going to have a permanent indentation there as well, at this rate.

“Any side effects? Itching, swelling, difficulty breathing? Any unreasonable lethargy or detachment?”

“I mean...I don’t really have anything to attach to at this point, so…”

He frowns at her again, and she wonders if he’s going to crank up her dosage two notches instead of one.

“Are you having what you feel are typical emotional responses to everyday stimuli? Have you laughed or smiled at anything yet? How long has it been since you emotionally felt anything besides the frustration and panic?”

And, somehow, this question is difficult, too. She struggles through, trying to find a balance between honesty and not making herself look like a complete failure who can't function in life. She doesn’t help her case when she admits she hasn’t followed many of his suggestions beyond establishing a routine.

“Not even exercising?” he asks, his disappointment palpable.

When she silently shakes her head, her lips pinched tight against his disapproval, he shakes his head with a sigh that sings of ultimate betrayal. Instead of berating her as usual, the doctor frowns and looks down at his notes, considering them silently. He clicks his tongue against his teeth for a moment before switching over to end-session mode, robotically delivering his closing remarks, his typical reminders to keep her meds on a strict schedule at the exact time every day, to avoid all alcohol and unprescribed drugs, to keep her diet as clean and unprocessed as possible, and to get plenty of exercise. Even this last bit is delivered with a sharply clinical detachment, as if she has driven him to the brink of her own psychoses by stubbornly refusing to accept his help.

There is a short, silent moment between them where they refuse to look at each other, the doctor perusing his notes once more while Alexa examines the wrinkles creased into her jeans from lack of folding. The doctor flips pages over in his legal pad and slaps the cover shut sharply, breaking the standoff with one last, dismissive comment.

“Routine, Alexa. Stick to the routine. If it’s what brings you comfort, if that's the one thing you’re taking away from these sessions that actually helps, then stick with it. I’ll see you Thursday afternoon.”

….

Her afternoons vary, according to her therapy schedule. Her sessions take roughly an hour and a half, so that’s one block of time she doesn’t have to try and fill. On the days she isn’t having her skull cracked open, she can sometimes force herself to work on the files her company sends her way. Grunt work, brainless stuff that any first-year intern could do, but it keeps her on the payroll and covered by health insurance until the doctor clears her to return to the office.

Not that there’s an office to return to yet.

Grocery shopping for food she’ll pretend to eat later, making excuses to stay out of the apartment a little longer each day, watching the shadows of the buildings grow darker and longer until the sunlight disappears from the streets.

And the other shadow, the darkest of all, thick and solid against the brick and stone, pacing her, keeping track as she wanders through the broken city blocks. Sometimes she walks a little faster, pretends to not notice the black spot. Sometimes she pretends it’s keeping her company. With the most conversation she’s had in weeks taking place in her therapy sessions, she occasionally finds the imaginary company of her shadow stalker to be more pleasant than menacing.

Occasionally.

Eventually, though, she and her chimerical companion head back to the silent, encroaching walls of her apartment to begin the night routine.

........

The rest of Part 1 coming soon.

If you would like to be added to or removed from a tag list, please let me know.

#mcu #mcu loki #loki #original character #original female character #rape #torture #abuse #self harm #mental illness #mental instability #stalking #supernatural horror #prescription drugs #eventual prescription drug abuse #ptsd #flashback sof tragedy #starving oneself #isolation #physical exhaustion #mental exhaustion #mental spiraling #mental abuse #emotional abuse #gaslighting #flashbacks #denial #self neglect #negative depiction of mental health professionals #hallucinations

[prepareyourselfforletdown-blog]

To My Ex

Seeing as though you wont see this and everyone on here is a stranger to me, I think it safe to say Ill be fine posting this. Writing this is for me to vent my frustration to unknown ears. I do not in no way shape or form want your name to be said so... That is why I will keep your name out of this. 

In The Beginning of our friendship was a new thing for me, seeing as though I don't go around physically trying to sleep with girls the way we started was a different experience for me. We had passion, interest, needs, and wants. We both showed each other how to love one another. We both came out of relationships we both didn't enjoy and the feeling of being together was fresh! Ultimately, I was the one that was still childish i said things I still regret. Not really understanding your background made the situation worse, and with that came the constant reassurance of my intentions. I never faulted you on that. Sometimes things that are said hurt people, and I am sorry for that.

Months later, we begin making life decisions together i.e. living together, grocery shopping, talking about kids... etc. The part about this that always bugged me was how in the back of your head you always hated doing stuff to help me out.  I ALWAYS cooked, cleaned, drove, and managed us. You refused sometimes to cook or even when I cooked you refused doing them.  The part that bugs me is you constantly thought I wasn't as serious as you or didn't care as much as you did. The part that bugs me is I HELD you down when things got rough. When you cried yourself to sleep I HELD you. When there was nothing in this world that would make you happy I still HELD you down and made you happy. However, things got better and we went back to how we once were. 

Then life happened, I had to choose between two situations 1. Choose orders to Japan to progress in my career and have a hopeful future to support you or 2. Choose a place in the states that would give me just life experience and have you close. At the moment I did not discuss this with you once again I am at fault for that. I apologized time and time again for choosing Japan. You refused to let this go and it hung over my head like a fucking thunder storm until the day I said I’ve had enough. In a long distance relationship, the mutual connection has to increase. Conversations have to have depth, character, passion. You never end a call mad, never not say “I love you.”. Never try and start an argument because that is unnecessary stress. We had a run where that was being done, through any kind of vessel of communication. We had it in our minds this wasn't going to beat us.

Once the major holidays were over, once I flew back to japan after thanksgiving was when things hit the down slope of our relationships. Conversations were shorter, arguments started to increase. Phone calls began with “hey *****, I am terribly sorry I lost track of time. I just wanted to call to say I love you, how was your day and goodnight.” and ended with argument. As I said before, I am sorry for not making time out of my day to call you that is my fault. However, You didn't take a step back and realize sometimes he has to call his parents, have time with his friends, and sometimes just sleep. Without a doubt that was the lowest point in my life I have ever felt depressed. There would be moments where I wouldn't want to talk to anybody. Things became different and we tried to keep the sand from slipping from our fingers. But in life a relationship has to maintain effort from both parties and it felt like you weren't even trying to help. 

The last couple arguments we had, I always stated whatever is going on between us needs to change or we will not be together. At a point even though I said this it never seem to click for you. You knew how much I hated arguing and how my past has be riddled with constant arguments. But You were blinded by hatred for Japan. Blinded with the fact that you felt not good enough. Blinded by the reason we were arguing was because japan was in the back of your head with every argument. 

And then I finally had enough, I hate myself for saying I fell out of love with my best friend. I fell out of love with the woman that has taught me a lot about myself and the world. A Woman who had held me when I was drunk crying because I was so scared of losing her. A woman who had helped me out even when I had no money. I will never fault you for that. In all honesty there is different levels of love to me. There is unconditional love, affectionate love, everlasting love, and a friendly love. In the end I still love you for you being you, however the part that sucks is I dont have the everlasting love for you that I once had. I realized this when it took you a week to finally realize you had made a mistake by not realizing what had blinded you. It took you a week after I said I had enough to understand Japan was nothing and we really could make it. And that is something that really fucked me up because I had held you down through the worse moments of your life and you couldn't even hold me down for the worse of mine or ours. The definition of Selfish is: (of a person, action, or motive) lacking consideration for other people; concerned chiefly with one's own personal profit or pleasure. I finally no longer feel selfish for choosing Japan. I gave my all and I can live with that. 

[mountainsandmusings]

Omg. I'm like, 90% positive I'm finally about to have a period again. Or, you know, it's just PCOS fucking with me. Either or. It's been so long that Ovia has stopped counting cycle days. Instead it just has a ?. Yeah. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I saw that. I haven't had one since the end of January. Today is cycle day 160. 160, guys. Yeah. To say I've hit my lowest point health-wise would be a gross understatement. No cycle for almost 6 months, I've gained at least 20 pounds the last few months and more before that, I don't even want to know how much, hardly any of my clothes fit, I'm losing more hair again, my skin is getting darker because the insulin resistance is out of control, more acne, the depression and anxiety is out of control.. just about the only thing that's better is reduced facial hair because I've been experimenting with spearmint oil. I just love PCOS. To be fair, I've given up. I've given up on everything. Not just TTC, not just PCOS management, not just myself, not just my marriage, but everything. I can't even remember the last time I went grocery shopping or cooked a meal. I spent the entire weekend watching tv. Literally. Just watching tv. Things have gotten so bad that I've just crawled into a dark hole and forgotten the way out. Casey's depression is far worse than it's ever been and I feel like I'm drowning right along with him. Every time I try to gasp for air I get pulled back down again. I'm tired of fighting it. I'm tired of it all. I don't know how to find motivation for anything, let alone for what I need. This is not where I expected this post to go but here we are. So here's the truth, the reason why I've disappeared from my own life. Maybe I'll see you on the other side, eventually. I don't know how deep this ocean is.

#personal #textposts #emily and PCOS #pcos

[adventurouskiwi]

Norway

Every time I talk to someone about my time in Norway I get emotional. It's such an indescribable feeling to be on this current high. I have so much gratitude. I can't write about this without being filled with so many overwhelming emotions. This year has been a roller coaster but I wouldn't trade any moment for anything. I have gone from complete isolation and a dream job in the hills of Vinstra only surrounded by animals, to my first van trip which ended up being a lot tougher than I imagined. On new years I watched the fireworks from a rooftop in Oslo with a bunch of deep strangers. I spent some hard weeks looking for a job in Oslo and battling through one of my lowest mental points. Then I traveled North to start an awesome new job and met more great people and animals. I got to show my parents this country with all the pride a person can feel and now I face some very hard goodbyes which just cement how much of my heart this country has. I feel so damn lucky right now, I have just had the craziest year and am ending on an incredible high. I'm unsure how things got this good for me, it all feels very dreamlike. Extremely sad to be leaving this beautiful place but my heart is as full as can be. I am sitting here writing this at 11:30 pm with the most beautiful pink mountains out my window and a sky that never goes dark. I just can't believe this is my life; this has been my life, this is what I made it. This one might be a bit of a read but I want to get everything on the page so I never forget it. So I remember in hard times to come, how bloody special life is.

Norway. The place of grass roofed wooden houses, of picturesque fjords and vast valleys. Where people are quiet but friendly and hard to meet. The place of overpriced chocolate but pancakes for dinner. Where getting drunk takes on a new meaning and everyone stays living where they were born. The place where Winter is as real as it gets with snow stories thick. Where you learn that anything below negative 10 degrees is just fucking cold and frozen hay bales become your worst nightmare. Where the sun controls how you feel, keeping you awake in the summer and something you yearn for in the winter. It's untouched beauty, small cities and summer cabins in the middle of nowhere. Where everyone has a good quality of life and don't quite realize how lucky they are. Where farms have 20 cows, each with a name and farm dogs that sleep on your bed. The place you need winter tires to drive on roads encased by 3 meter tall snow walls. Where reindeer are feral and farm animals roam free in the summer. Land that comes with surprises at every turn and a hike into the mountains is as accessible as walking out your front door. A country you feel safe enough in to leave your car running while you do your grocery shop and where you don't think twice about spending the night alone in the mountains. There are so many amazing qualities of this country and I am so glad I have been immersed in it for the last 12 months. It would be fucking hard to find a place to beat this.

In the summer I would drive the tractor to the very end of a gravel road in the middle of the mountains where my little log cabin with a fire heated spa on the deck awaited. Surrounded by only mountains and animals and experiencing the most happiness I've ever known. Being able to step outside and venture into the mountains almost daily made me think I had found one of the most perfect spots in the world. My dogs would come everywhere with me, whether it was to the grocery store or on a 3 hour road trip to one of our many hikes. Road trips that always filled me with awe as the most breathtaking scenes were found literally around every bend. Then painting murals in the animal shed as I consumed far too many energy drinks and wondering how the fuck I was being paid to do something I loved so much.  When winter came so did darkness but with more beauty then I can describe. A van trip that pushed me more than ever before, one that brought new lessons as I climbed new peaks. The emotions of witnessing the aurora which is by far the most magical thing I've ever witnessed. Countless nights staying awake as my fingers went numb, waiting to see if the sky would come alive. Moving North to old cute stables where I would greet 20 horses in the morning and put them out in the snow. Where you could chuck some snow shoes on and walk into the mountains to find a lake, ready to drill a hole in and go ice fishing. Where bonfires with burnt sausages became a common activity and at night I'd walk outside to watch a dancing sky as my fingers went numb. Meeting travelers from around the world to trade stories with and if they were brave enough, to get in the arctic waters with. Riding beautiful warmbloods in the snow and chatting to friendly horse owners as we watched the most picturesque sunsets. Going running beside the water in such cold temps that my body would be numb, giving me the ability to run further than I'd expect. Waking up to scenes that some people don't even know exist, unsure of how I'd become this lucky.

My little mate Tussi, she deserves her own paragraph. Fuck, she deserves her own book. That dog has been an overwhelmingly precious part of Norway. I can't begin to think of what this year would have looked like without her. She has been there in my hardest times and she has joined me for almost every peak, usually just the two of us, stunned every time by what our eyes were seeing. We became inseparable from the beginning and there was no where I would go without her. I didn't know a dog could become so much of me but she has really been more than I can explain. I hope that I remember every quirky thing about her (and her little tongue). How much she made me laugh, how she stuck by my side wherever we went. She came fishing with me, hiking, camping, skiing and gave me cold night van snuggles when my mood was low. That dog touches every one she meets. Always so excited to get in my car and was so gentle when meeting new people but explosive when she knew you. The biggest attention seeker ever but full of an unmatched amount of love. So many of my moments were shared with her and made better by her being there. I got so incredibly lucky to find myself on a farm with such a precious dog that very quickly became the best shadow. I'm so grateful I will get to spend my last few days with her and although leaving her is fucking hard, she is in a home full of so much love and a place I know will always be my home too. I only wish she knew what she has done and meant for me over the last year.

When I hopped on that plane 1 year ago I had little expectations and just a big yearning for adventure. Well that was the best decision I could have made because fuck it's been a good ride. I have experienced 4 crazy seasons, been left speechless by the northern lights, unable to sleep by the midnight sun, ridden in snow, skied and camped on beautiful mountains, surfed in the arctic waters, fallen in love with every animal I've met, gone on so many road trips, painted numerous murals and just lived. This is it, this is life and it's fucking incredible. I feel like this year has it's own little place in my heart. I cant believe the amount of pinch me moments I have experienced. To wake up almost every day with an unbelievable view no matter where I am. To feel so happy in these vast mountains but to learn my limit of time alone. I've pushed myself in new ways and now have a whole new relationship with my brain. I mean, I'm a couple of glasses of wine deep and reminiscing the shit out of the last 12 months right now but I couldn't be happier or thinking more positively. To leave a place when I'm at my highest point just leaves me so grateful to be alive, so grateful to be able to do the things that I've done, to have had all these new experiences. I can't wait to go home, to see all my favourite people and to return the best version of me yet. I can't wait to create fresh dreams and to continue growing. Last time I travelled I felt like I grew but this is something completely different, now I feel like I know my place in the world, like I know who I am and I belong here. I'm fucking ready to spread every ounce of positivity I have and to see just how much more I can achieve. I have a good sense in how I want to live my life and the level of experiences I can have. Norway has opened new doors of possibilities in my brain. I want to remember this, I want to get this down in words as best I can, I want to remind myself in the future that life is what you make it and these euphoric moments exist. I want to continue being fearless when chasing any crazy dream my brain can imagine, because fuck living any other way. I want to remember it all, to pack it into a snow globe and be able to return to this exact feeling every time I shake it. Norway, the land of so much more than any words I could write.