#3 weeks and several mental scenarios did not prepare me for that

[danwhobrowses]

Taliesin for the sake of sanity I'm gonna have to ask you to NEVER LET ASHTON DO THAT AGAIN

Except the kissing Fearne part, more of that!

[thatweeboverthereisthirsty]

Can I call you mine?

A commission from the lovely @carlottastudios who I absolutely adore after only having a few conversations with. These were jealousy scenarios with a bit of spice! I went over my word limit on Jamil’s but that’s just cause I love him so much! Please enjoy! And commissions are open still! This one cost $3

Warnings: slight spice, fem!reader, jealousy, protectiveness, possessive behavior, light light LIGHT angst, marking kink (is that a thing? oh well. Basically a love bite that displays their claim.)

   “In the jungle, the botanical jungle, a lion sleeps all the time~!” you sang out teasingly. Leona huffed and his tail thumped against the ground once in irritation. Giggling, you slid closer and poked said tail, which retracted swiftly, prickling in annoyance.

   “Scram herbivore.” Leona’s tone was mildly annoyed but had no bite to it. Truthfully he hoped you would inch just a bit closer so he could grab you and hold you hostage as his pillow. 

   You hummed and stood, much to his displeasure, and grabbed your school stuff. Quietly you packed everything away and threw out your lunch trash before returning to Leona’s spot one more time.

   “I have class now, Leona. I’ll see you later, kay?” he grunted in agreement and watched you walk away, nose twitching as he inhaled your fresh scent one last time before it began to fade. The down side of the botanical garden was that any smell other than flowers was quickly dispersed by the sickeningly sweet perfume of nectar.

   The lion sighed and stared up at one such flower with distaste. How dare they try to outdo his beloved? He would never appreciate their scent more than hers. He rolled his eyes at the ridiculous thoughts and fell back asleep. He hummed as he did so, mimicking the tune you had sang to him. He missed you already.

----------

   5:48 P.M. You were 18 minutes late. 18 minutes had passed since you were supposed to be in Leona’s bed, curled up next to him, petting his ears, and doting on him like the king he was. 18 minutes where Leona gradually became more worried, as well.

   It wasn’t like you to be late. Especially not late to a night with him. It set his instincts off and he was on high alert, tensed, ready to pounce on anything that dared touch his mate. Finally when the clock turned 5:20 he sprang out of bed and strode down the hall with power that sent the message “don’t mess with me”.

   In the Savanaclaw lounge you were seated next to the decorative pool, chatting amidly with a fellow student. Leona glared and growled when he spotted you, far too close to the other man for his liking. He watched in anger, as the student slid even closer to you so that your hips touched briefly.

   Rage flashed in Leona’s eyes and his expression darkened into something dangerous. He stalked over behind you and the student, who seemingly didn’t notice his presence and hastily picked you up before throwing you over his shoulder. 

   “Hey! Put me down!” you cried out and he snarled at you. “Quiet, herbivore!” Recognizing your boyfriend's voice you stilled and relaxed a bit. At least it wasn’t some stranger. 

   He mentally gave you points for fighting back when you didn’t know who it was. “That’s right, only I get to touch you.”

   Looking down at the student who had been sitting with you, he noticed your homework was on his lap and realized he had just been helping you. He growled and turned walking away, a bit upset that he didn’t have a good reason to turn them to dust. Not that he needed one, but he couldn’t imagine upsetting you by harming one of your classmates, no matter how much he wanted to.

   Soon he reached his room and threw you on the bed. You landed with a gasp and looked up at him in confusion and slight annoyance. “Leona! What was that-MPH!”

   He silenced you quickly by shoving you down on the bed and sliding his tongue into your mouth. Immediately your body relaxed underneath him and he smirked when you brought your hands up to weave into his hair. 

   Only he got to touch you like this. Only he got to kiss you. Only he got to say that you were his. His and his alone! 

   You panted when he pulled back and started to ask why but he kissed you again so you couldn’t. “Jealous. Protective. Possessive. Mine” He said between kisses and soon trailed them along your jaw and down to your neck.

   A breathy moan slipped from your lips as he sucked on the sensitive skin near your collar. He kissed up until he was right over the junction between your neck and shoulders. Then he bit down hard, drawing a loud cry from you. 

   The taste of your blood only just barely appeared before he pulled back and began to kiss the wound. He knew that licking it would irritate it further due to his cat-like tongue, but he still attempted to soothe it as much as possible.

   Finally he pulled back completely and gazed down at you with a smirk. Several different bruises and love bites littered your neck, shoulders, and collar. Only one had been deep enough to break the skin. It would scar he was sure and the thought of you always wearing a symbol of his claim made him purr.

   He stopped though when he realized he could have hurt you. “I’m sorry. Princess, I didn’t mean to get so upset, it’s just instincts.” he sighed. 

   You smiled at him and pulled him down for another kiss. “Don’t worry. I find it super sexy when you get possessive.” His eyes widened in surprise and he took in your mild blush. “Hmmm…” he purred with a smirk. “Well in that case you don’t mind if I mark you up a bit more… and while I’m at it you can use that pretty voice of yours to remind the whole dorm that you’re mine and mine alone!”

   Jamil gritted his teeth and turned away from the lounge. He made his way to the kitchen and immediately began to prepare more horderves. Kalim’s party was going wonderfully, of course all due to his hard work. Although he supposed he appreciated a week's notice and Kalim did help magically with some of the decorations.

    He was still stressed, but not quite as much as he could have been, had Kalim not given him a warning. In fact he was looking forward to actually trying to enjoy one of Kalim’s parties for the first time since he was born. 

   It was a very nice party and since everything was going smoothly, Jamil found time to sit down and sip some juice. Alcohol wasn’t allowed on school premises but grape juice mimicked the taste nicely depending on what brand you bought. Kalim was partial to the sweeter stuff, while Jamil preferred it to be more sour.

   However, he found that the sour taste in his mouth wasn’t from the juice at all when he spotted you dancing joyously with some other student. His smile fell into a frown and he watched angrily as the student pulled you close and said something that made you laugh.

   You had a beautiful laugh, it was the kind that made everyone in the room sigh in content when they heard it. Jamil fell in love with it almost as hard as he had fallen in love with you. Especially because you rarely laughed for anyone but him.

   To hear you generously sharing that sound with some nobody sent flashes of anger through him.  He clenched his fists and dug his nails into his palms a bit. Just remembering it made him pissed.

   Shaking his head to clear it, Jamil got to work cutting up some more vegetables at a fast speed that would intimidate anyone who tried to approach him. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone so he glared darkly at the food in front of him in an attempt to send off silent go away signals.

   Kalim, who entered the room to find Jamil after seeing him storm off, caught sight of the frustrated man and paused to observe his body language. Ever since Jamil’s overblot, Kalim had been trying to read his friend's emotions better. Luckily he caught on quickly and left the room.

    Jamil sighed in relief and set the knife down. Why the hell would you wanna hang out with anyone but him! You were his and his alone! The only thing he had claim over, or ownership of. Mentally he berated himself for thinking that way. You weren’t an object, you were a person and you should be allowed to do whatever you want. He would be a hypocrite if he tried to restrict your choices and behaviors.

   “Jamil?” The man spun around and found you standing behind him with a concerned look on your face. “Kalim told me you looked upset, is everything alright?” Your tone was soft and worried. It eased Jamil’s emotions in the way it always had. You always put him first, a habit he both loved and hated. On one hand he adored being pampered for once, on the other he knew what it was like to ignore your own wants and needs for another person.

   He sighed and put on a smile, taking your hands in his own. “Just tired that’s all.” you frowned and glared up at him in the way you always did when he lied.

   “Now, I know that’s not true. I’m not gonna force you to tell me, but I also want you to know that you can be honest with me. That’s why I’m here.” Jamil bit his lip and turned away, a flush rising on his cheeks.

   “The truth…” he hesitated. “The truth is I don’t want you hanging out with that other student!” The sudden exclamation took you aback and you blinked in surprise. “I don’t want to control you or tell you what to do and who to hang out with, but I also want you all to myself. No one else should be able to touch you or whisper in your ears, or dance with you, or make you laugh and smile. That’s my job, because your mine, not theirs!”

   At this point you were blushing as well, but noticed he was beginning to get upset. “And I’m so sorry for saying that like you’re some object, cause you’re not. You’re a person who deserved to make their own choices and decisions, but goddamnit I can’t help wanting you all to myself. You’re- you’re…” he paused and looked at you. “You’re special… to me. I don’t want anyone taking you away from me. I know i’m being a hypocrite but don’t go back out there. Stay here and be mine-”

   Jamil was cut off by you kissing him passionately on the lips. His eyes widened before they fell closed and he snaked his arms around your waist, tugging you flush against him with a growl. 

   His tongue swiped at your lips and you parted them obediently. He smirked and chuckled lowly before slipping it into your mouth. “Good girl.” You moaned through the kiss and felt your knees weaken. He pulled you around and lifted you effortlessly onto the counter. His kisses moved from your lips to your neck where he simultaneously worshipped and abused your skin.

   Love bites and dark bruises displayed his rough treatment, but the sighs that fell from your lips told him that you were enjoying it greatly. Silently he pulled back to observe his handiwork and smirked at the amount of marks he had left behind. Some would be easy to hide, whereas others he had left strategically in places that would be impossible to cover up. He felt a little guilty, knowing that you would be slightly upset later for making it so hard to hide the fact that he had been kissing you, but seeing something almost like a name tag, or a brand, that signified you were his and his alone, stirred something in him and he was tempted to never let you leave his sight without a mark warning people off about advancing on you.

   “Jamil…” you spoke shakily. He looked at you and how wrecked you were just from some kisses and his gaze darkened with lust. His tongue licked his lips subconsciously and he watched you shiver in reaction. “I have something important to tell you…”

   He raised an eyebrow and moved his head to the other side of your neck, placing kisses and marks there as well. It made it very hard to think so you momentarily pushed him away, making him growl in displeasure. “Don’t feel bad about being possessive over me, okay? Because when you are…” you hesitated, “it’s really freaking hot.”

   His eyes widened and an almost evil smile drew up on his lips. “That so… well, then I guess you don’t mind me leaving a few more marks over here,” he licked a stripe up your neck drawing a gasp from you, “to show the whole world that you belong to me!” He snarled it out before biting lightly at your skin and relishing in the way you tilted your head to the side with a moan. Yeah, he could get used to you hanging out with other boys so long as he got to do this to you before and after.

[zenonaa]

'The conglomerate taught him a dozen languages and how to play as many instruments. They trained him to operate multiple types of aircrafts, earn billions of dollars and not bat an eyelid as a rival company begged for mercy... However, when it came to developing feelings, that was treated in the same way as stabbing a fork into a plug socket, or offering to wash the dishes instead of letting the servants attend to them. It was common sense not to do those things.'

Fandom: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Fukawa Touko, Togami Byakuya, Naegi Makoto Additional Tags: Togafuka Week Summary: Togami tries to prepare himself for his reunion with Fukawa.

Comments: Day 3 for TogaFuka Week! Fantasy/Kiss.

💗 Please like, share and comment if you enjoyed it! 💗

***

As the helicopter soars above the city, Byakuya visualises skyscrapers reaching toward the sky as if wanting to claim the blue expanse for itself, like that’s its God-given right. The buildings wouldn’t look out of place in a boss battle in a light gun video game. Makoto once compared them to the final level in an old zombie shooter that he played a few times at his local arcade.

Byakuya imagines the futuristic city, teeming with electricity and life, but the image lingers only for a couple of seconds before rusting, wilting, collapsing. In reality, Towa City is an industrial wasteland. Its railroad halo dips and splinters throughout, as if made from thorns, and the ghost of a bullet train explodes into dust that rains down on the city. Buildings have been amputated, leaving only stumps if nothing at all. Squinting, he discerns a car park that is now a graveyard, with graves instead of cars.

They land the helicopter in the concrete clearing behind a rundown hotel, the loud wailing of the rotorcraft’s blades slowing into pops before falling silent. No red carpet awaits them. A staircase unfolds from the helicopter’s doorway to the scarred ground. The sky is a red lipstick stain that fades into purple like a bruise.

And a short distance away from Byakuya stands Touko Fukawa.

Touko bounds toward him. “Byakuya-sama!”

Yes, he thinks, she would still call him that. Her wild mane of aubergine hair writhes with every step. Meanwhile, he glides over. His feet make no sound.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she says, stopping in front of him. She breathes in, filling her lungs with air. He brings a finger to her lips.

“Let me speak first.” Byakuya can feel her lips vibrate as words bubble in her mouth. After he lifts his finger off, her mouth hangs ajar but she stays quiet. Now it’s his turn to inhale deeply. “We have been on quite a journey. Before we met, I held the weight of the conglomerate and all the pressures involved, while you...”

The light against her lenses flashes warningly as her brow dips into a furrow.

“... had, and still have, your own,” he finishes. His teeth scrape against his lips. “When I entrusted you with Towa City, do you remember what I said?”

“No matter the distance, I will not feel a thing,” she recites.

“That’s right. You must understand that my creation was a business investment.” He swishes a hand through the air, maintaining eye contact. “Romance goes against my existence. At that time, though I had started opening up to the idea of relying on others, and letting others rely on me... I was not interested in... in romance.”

Her silence provides a clear sky that his voice fills with grey clouds. He coughs into his knuckles.

“Part of me rejected the idea of romance... And yet, to my surprise, during our time apart, where we could only speak in video calls, my heart grew fonder for you.”

Touko’s puzzled squint blooms into a wide-eyed stare. Its intensity burns his cheeks. Still, she doesn’t say a word. What if after she had drawn close enough, without the gleam on the computer screen on his face, she realised he is as cold as a monitor? Is that what is happening now? Aoi sometimes remarked that Touko was too good for him, and when Aoi became annoyed enough with something he did or said, she would add that Touko deserved better.

He used to never doubt himself, but for the first time in his life, he wonders if he is good enough.

It feels like he has taken his first step somewhere damp and mouldy, where the floorboards could give way at any moment. Without moving, his stomach drops as if he’s already falling. Byakuya’s tongue squirms in his mouth, as if trying to reverse the words that it already unleashed, but he can’t take them back.

Instead of trying to articulate his feelings, he decides to demonstrate them to her. He grabs her waist. Her head jolts back in surprise and a moment later, their lips bump together. For several long seconds, they stand stiffly, Byakuya’s hands on her body, Touko’s hands cupping air, until he needs to peel himself away to breathe.

She gazes at him, brow wrinkled, not smiling. Then she opens her mouth and asks, “Are you okay, Togami-kun?”

The voice does not belong to her. Byakuya blinks, fracturing the concrete, the sky, her body, revealing his true surroundings. Opposite him sits Makoto, the two of them seated in a helicopter.

“You zoned out there for a good few minutes,” says Makoto.

Byakuya responds with a grimace.

To bat away the encroaching silence, Makoto chirps, “I can’t believe in an hour, we’ll finally be reunited with Komaru and Fukawa-san.”

In response, Byakuya gives a solitary hum. Makoto’s smile wanes.

“Are you motion sick?” he asks Byakuya.

“No,” Byakuya says more harshly than intended, the syllable cracking the still air like a whip and making Makoto tense. He flattens his tone and adds, “I’m in thought. That’s all.”

“About the reunion?”

Byakuya nods.

“It’ll be fine,” Makoto assures him with conviction that puts Byakuya on the defensive.

“What am I supposed to say to her?”

‘Her’ being Touko, of course. The conglomerate taught him a dozen languages and how to play as many instruments. They trained him to operate multiple types of aircrafts, earn billions of dollars and not bat an eyelid as a rival company begged for mercy. With the matter of future heirs, they instructed him on what to look out for on female applicants’ forms while choosing potential mothers. However, when it came to developing feelings, that was treated in the same way as stabbing a fork into a plug socket, or offering to wash the dishes instead of letting the servants attend to them. It was common sense not to do those things.

And yet here Byakuya was, spending the journey to Towa City mentally rehearsing how he was going to confess to a woman who had gained the power to make his heart swell too big for his chest. The conglomerate could not have prepared him for such a woman. Such an intelligent woman. Such an empathetic woman. Such a loyal woman.

Most of all, a woman who drew strength from what the conglomerate called weakness. Love.

“I mean... you can say hello?” suggests Makoto.

Byakuya’s steely gaze clenches Makoto. “Then what?”

“Like... ‘How are you?’”

“I can’t treat this like a regular meeting, as if we had only last seen each other at the end of work the previous day,” says Byakuya.

“Why not?”

“This one is different.”

As Makoto’s eyes flicker, he drinks in the tension in Byakuya’s shoulders, the tightness in his fists, and says, “Ah. I see.”

Though Makoto must have known for some time now. He and the others had started alluding to Byakuya’s feelings for Touko before Byakuya was even in denial about them, back when Byakuya didn’t know what he was experiencing, or what was making his stomach flutter.

Evening has dyed the sky orange, darkness creeping in at the edges. Byakuya stares at it through the window. His unsmiling reflection leaves a faint imprint on the glass. Silence swirls around them, hanging over their heads like the rotating blades of the helicopter.

“Are you going to tell her?” asks Makoto, and he doesn’t need to elaborate.

“I should,” Byakuya replies.

“You can try a pick-up line.” Without having to look at him, Byakuya can hear the grin seeping into Makoto’s tone. “For example... Do you like raisins? How would you feel about a date?”

Byakuya’s reflection glares as Makoto carries on.

“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together. Or - ”

“That’s enough,” Byakuya says with a shudder, raising a hand. “I aim for my demeanour to be calm and composed. I do not intend to act like a fool, throwing out hackneyed lines.”

“Sorry, sorry. But if you don’t mind me saying, you’re overthinking it, Togami-kun.”

This earns Makoto a look from Byakuya. The curve of Makoto’s lips is slimmer now, but still holding on.

“In these sorts of situations, it’s best not to use your brain...” Makoto taps himself on the head. “... but to follow your heart.” His hand shifts to his heart and pats there next.

Byakuya tightens his lips and returns his gaze to the window.

“Easy for you to say,” he mutters.

The helicopter lands by the hotel that Touko and Komaru have been living in. If not for the lit windows and neon sign, the dark column would have blended in with the night. Steel bars cage the building, mostly unbent. Byakuya’s attention fixes longest on the sign that flashes ‘TOWA HOTEL’, ‘TOWA HOTEL’, pulsing like his heartbeat, reminding him over and over where he is.

He balls his sweaty hands into fists. He can do this. ‘Follow your heart,’ Makoto had said, and his heart has been caged for so long. It’s time that he freed it.

As in his imagined scenarios, Touko runs over, her arms spread as if about to take. Byakuya tenses, for a moment thinking that he has to catch her before she flies away again.

Fortunately, she stops in front of him, her feet rooted to the ground. “Byakuya-sama!”

Byakuya swears he feels the spray of her spit, but it might just be his sweat. Makoto digs him gently in the ribs, quirks his lips, then walks toward Komaru. At no point does Touko’s eyes stray from Byakuya, who lifts his chin and adjusts his tie. Low laughter simmers in Touko’s mouth.

“I can finally smell you...” She hugs herself. “It has been so long.”

In the past, he would have told her to shut up after saying something like that, but that doesn’t seem appropriate now. Such a comment used to come across as vulgar, and maybe it still does, slightly, but he has grown accustomed to the vines that her existence has curled around him. His tongue feels thick in his mouth as he tries to think of a response.

“Well, I can smell you,” he says.

This prompts Touko to shrink back and worry her lip with her teeth. “D-Do I...? I showered earlier today. Argh, did Komaru swap my shampoo for dog p-?”

Touko cuts herself off with a groan and shakes her head. Byakuya reaches a hand toward her.

“I mean you smell good.” He immediately cringes. Good. He said, ‘good.’ Her brow creases, whether it be from confusion or from hearing such a lame adjective, and he adds quickly, “You smell like...”

Byakuya breathes in but finds himself unable to smell her, so he leans toward her so he can. She gasps. He straightens sharply.

Time ticks as Byakuya mentally flips through the scripts he had rehearsed on the helicopter.

“Romance goes against my existence,” he says.

No, wait. He hadn’t meant to say it like that.

“Went against,” he clarifies. “Remember when I said ‘No matter the distance, I will not feel a thing’?”

Touko nods slowly, frowning. His head fills with steam, rendering it practically useless, which leaves him one other organ to depend on. His heart.

“Do you like raisins?” he says. “I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together.”

Her troubled expression gives way to concern. “Byakuya-sama...?”

Byakuya lets out a frustrated groan and slaps himself on the forehead. “What I want to say is...”

She springs onto tiptoe and pecks his lips.

In that moment of contact, time stops. No more than a second could have passed, but by the time she returns her heels to the ground, he feels like he has been flung up into the sky before crashing back down again, his head spinning.

While he stands frozen, she wraps her arms around him.

“I understand,” she says muffled into his chest.

He hesitates, then hugs her back, and presses his lips against the top of her head. She smells like strawberries.

[spencessmile]

How Much You’ll Love The Right One

Pairing - (Platonic) Spencer Reid x Fem Reader 

Summary - Spencer promises you, that you'll find love again. You don't want another love, you want him. 

Warnings - None 

Word Count - 2,011 words 

And all imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don't steal my work and post it without my consent. 

Feedback and Comments are welcome. Happy reading! 

Requests are open!

** 

Spencer and you have been friends for over 14 years so when Spencer didn't hear from you in over two weeks, he was worried. He just got back from LA from a case and rushed to your apartment when you hadn’t answered any of his calls. 

You were the type of person to call Spencer several times throughout the day but when he didn’t hear from you in two weeks, this mind went racing to all the worst-case scenarios. You lived 10 minutes away from Spencer’s apartment but Spencer felt like the drive was taking forever. 

Heartbreak sucked. You found out a week ago that your boyfriend of two years was cheating on you and when you found out you completely lost your mind, to say the least. 

This was the second time you were cheated on and it broke you. You sat here for two weeks and thought of every single reason why you weren’t good enough. Why did you always end up heartbroken? Did you do something wrong? Did you say something wrong? Did you not love people enough? Were you not loveable? 

All these questions and you still had no answers. 

You sat on your couch, mounted with pillows and blankets while old movie reruns were playing on TV. You didn’t know where the hell your phone was but you heard it vibrating, again. 

You knew it was Spencer calling you for the hundredth time. You hadn’t called him in two weeks so you knew that he’d be worried about you. You knew that Spencer was probably away on a case because if he was here he would have burst through your door by now. 

You talked to Spencer about everything and anything that came to your mind but this was something you weren’t ready to talk about. You wanted to push all your feelings aside and not think about anything. 

You got up and walked to your fridge, opened your freezer pulling out the ice cube tray. You froze in your position as you heard your door lock being messed with. Your eyes wandered towards the clock, that read 12:22 A.M. 

Who the hell is trying to break in your apartment? What the hell should you do? Who could it be? And where was your phone?

You stood quietly in your kitchen as the person continued to play with the locks. You put down the ice tray and ran into your bedroom, grabbing your baseball bat. You shut the lights and stayed a good distance away from the door as the locks were being opened. As the door swung open you thought your heart was going to explode from inside your chest. 

Just as you saw the shadow inch closer into your apartment, you were about to swing your bat. 

“FBI! SHOW ME YOUR HANDS!” You hear a familiar voice yell. You sigh, lowering your baseball ball. “I said, show me your hands! Now!” 

“Relax Dr. Reid,” You said, turning on the lights. “It’s just me,” As you turned to face Spencer but he still had his gun pointed at you. “Spencer, your gun!” Spencer put his gun in his holster. 

“You're okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah, why would I be?” 

“You haven’t been answering any of my calls. I thought something happened to you,” Spencer said. “You have two weeks worth of mail piled in front of your door. Chris said he remembered you leaving a few days ago but doesn’t remember you coming back,” Spencer closed the door. “I thought you were hurt or even worse, kidnapped.” 

Chris, was your apartment complex manager. 

“I wouldn’t mind being kidnapped.” You say. 

You knew that you couldn’t hide anything from Spencer because out of all the people in the world you could have run into on the Metro, it had to be with a profiler, just your luck.  

“Y/N,” Spencer glared at you. You weren’t good at dealing with emotions so you tended to make jokes or laugh at everything and if there was one thing Spencer didn’t like about you, it was that one trait of yours. “Y/N, I was worried about you. I would have come earlier but I was in LA working on a case. Why have you been avoiding me?” Spencer asked, his eyes soft and his voice laced with concern. 

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” You couldn’t even look at Spencer while saying that. 

“Yes, you are,” You folded his arms and looked at you. You knew exactly what he was doing and you didn’t like it. “You're avoiding eye contact and you're pulling at the sleeves of your sweater.” 

“Stop doing that.” 

“Doing what?” 

“Profiling me.” 

“Y/N, I’m not pr-” 

“Yes, you are! I don’t need you doing that to me right now. I just need my best friend,” Your eyes started welling up. Spencer’s face expressions softened as he walked up to you. He grabbed your hand and led you to the couch. He turned to face you as your tears fell. 

You're not sure how long has passed but you know you were ready to talk about. You have to let out your feelings otherwise you’ll drown in them. You lifted your head and got up from the couch. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You shook your head. “It’s okay. How about we just watch some TV and you can tell me whenever you’re comfortable, alright?” You nodded as you put your head on Spencer’s shoulder. 

“If I’m going to talk about this then I need mint chip ice cream. You down for a pint?” 

“Absolutely,” Spencer replies. “I’ll get it.” You nod as he walks to the kitchen. You mentally prepare yourself to tell Spencer everything. “Here you are.”

You grab the pint and shove a spoonful into your mouth. Spencer turns to fully face you and just patiently waits until you're ready. 

“He cheated on me.” 

You felt Spencer’s eyes snap up. 

“Y/N, I’m s-” 

“Don’t apologize for something that’s not your fault. He was an ass, I should have known better.” 

“This isn’t your fault.” 

“Is there something wrong with me?” Spencer frowned at your question.

“Absolutely not.” 

You felt yourself starting to cry again. “Then why don’t people love me?”

“People do love you.” 

“If they did, then they wouldn’t leave or cheat on me. All my life all I ever seen people do is walk away from me. No one has ever decided to stay by my side. No one ever decided to stay and love me through all my good and bad.”

“I stayed,” Spencer replies. “I love you.” 

“That’s because you kept following me everywhere,” You joked, as you remember back to all the times that you Spencer kept bumping into each other after that one time on the Metro. Anyone could say it was straight out of a movie. 

“No, you kept following me everywhere.” Spencer playfully argues back. 

“I mean, what were the changes that we kept seeing each other everywhere? Who knew that we liked the same coffee, read books from the same library, and even ride the same Metro every single morning and night at the same time?"

“Actually, according to a recent study, the chances of meeting a stranger more than once is like 1 in 10,000. So the chances are very slim. But I guess you just got really lucky with me,” You laughed at the last part of his answer. Spencer grabbed your hand. “I’m sorry that he ch-” 

“Spencer stop,” You felt your emotions starting to take over again, as your eyes started to blur your vision. You sat there holding Spencer’s hand while you just cried out all your emotions. 

“You have to let him go.” 

“I know,  I know …” You say, grabbing a pillow and hugging it. 

“Then do it.” 

“I know that he hurt me. I really want to let this go but I’ve always tried hard to keep this relationship together for almost 3 years. It sucks to let go of something that I've had together for so long.” 

“I know it’s hard for you but, you deserve to let him go so that you can be happy again. It’s time to make yourself happy.” 

You sniffle and look up at Spencer, taking a couple of deep breaths. 

“I need you to be okay because I miss my best friend. The extremely annoying and over-hyper one. The one that calls me over a hundred times a day to tell me every little thing she does in a day. The one that goes to my apartment and waters my plants every other day and leaves me baked goods when she knows that I’m coming back home. The one that drags me out of bed on weekends I have off to go do something absolutely insane.” 

“Spencer Reid you better be talking about me,” You said glaring at him. 

“What if I’m not?” Now he was playing with you. 

“You're not allowed to have a new best friend.” 

“Why not?” 

“No,” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to replace you.” 

“Because I’m supposed to be your only best friend.” Spencer laughed as you pouted. “Do you have a new friend?”

“You better not. I know where you live and work.” Spencer just laughs. 

“You know I was really worried when you weren’t responding back to me. I thought something really bad happened.” 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” You said. “Spencer you had your partner come and bolt in 3 extra locks to my front door, you set up an alarm system and you installed a camera outside my apartment. No burglar would want to do that much work just to seal some stuff from an apartment. Besides, any brugler who makes all the effort to get through those locks, it’ll be their loss because I don’t have shit in this apartment for them to steal,” You and Spencer laugh. “Unless they want my coffee maker or toaster oven.” 

“So, what did you do?” Spencer raised his eyebrow at you. 

“What did I do?” You ask. Spencer gave you the -oh-come-on-you-know-what-I’m-talking-about face and you sighed. 

“I went to the grocery store, bought a dozen eggs, and egged his house,” You reply. 

“No Y/N, you egged his house?!” You nodded, feeling sort of proud of doing that. 

“You could have waited for me to come back home,” You looked at Spencer, surprised. 

“Oh, don’t give me that face Spencer,” You spoke. “He was an ass. He deserved to have his house egged. Besides he is very lucky I didn’t key his new Porsche that was standing in the driveway, I was very tempted.” 

“You wanted to egg his house too?” 

“Of course, I would have wanted too. He hurt my best friend.” 

“Oh a lot of people have hurt your best friend so in that case, you still have a lot of houses to egg. Maybe tomorrow we wrap his house in toilet paper.” 

“Maybe we can,” Spencer turned serious for a second. “Hey, I know it’ll take you a while to get over this relationship but I want you to know that if you loved the wrong this much, imagine how much you’ll love the right one. I promise you; this time love will walk to your doorstep and you’ll know immediately.” 

I already know. 

You're sitting right in front of me, holding my hand. 

How much I need you. 

It’s just that I can never tell you how much I love you.  

** 

But you've slipped under my skin, invaded my blood, and seized my heart. – Maria V. Snyder, Poison Study

[notyourhetloki]

Where are the clowns?

- Arthur Fleck (Joker) x Reader -

Pronouns: None! It’s gender neutral ;)

Word Count: 2,042

Notes: This is a repost from my archived blog @/joysmaddworld

“Hello! This is not something I usually do, but since reading this request made by the incredible @ajokeformur-ray​ , I just couldn’t get this scenario out off my head! So of course, this IS a work directly inspired by her writing and that request in particular, so I recommend you to check it out first! Thank you so much for inspiring me and allowing me to post this, dear <3 Hope you all like it!”

Warnings: Mentions of guns, criminal activity and hospital settings. Spoilers.

“Two police officers were injured in a confront inside the National Bank of Gotham City. The criminals took a large quantity of money to later on scatter it onto the streets on their way out.”

You were barely paying any attention to the TV, too concentrated on eating and balancing the plate on your lap as you sat uncomfortably on your couch; a bad habit you developed as your shifts at Arkham started getting longer and longer. There was not enough time in lunch break, so multitasking was the way to keep track of things happening around.

As you found a decent position, you took a bite of your food to then finally take a glimpse of the TV, and the sight of an armed man wearing a clown mask made you freeze, now completely paying attention to the news.

“All gang members were wearing clown masks to hide their ID, a now considered symbol of the rebel movement that emerged several months back when multiple protests took place around the city, sparked by a statement from the deceased politician Thomas Wayne.”

You watched closely as one masked man appeared to be putting money inside big cloth bags and two others guarded his back while holding guns.

The camera zoomed into one particular individual. Thin, medium length hair, red suit.. but still with a mask hiding his face.

He moved with elegance. Despite the situation, he seemed to be dancing around and thriving on the chaos.

Could it be?

“One of the burglars is suspected to be the missing criminal Arthur Fleck, famously known as Joker. The police department of Gotham City is investigating the possibility of TV star Murray Franklin’s murderer being involved in the crimes committed by this particular gang. Three criminals were injured and are now under arrest, and the remaining five, including the yet to be confirmed Joker, are still to be found.”

You sat and watched the last few scenes from the report, now with a sudden anxiety bubble rising from your stomach... it had to be him.

~ A few months back ~

Since you started working at the Arkham State Hospital, your life took a turn you could never expect. As a naturally empathetic person, you knew you would have to fight to maintain your mental health and sanity intact... working at an asylum would never be an easy job. You just couldn’t predict you would get this affected by a patient.

Arthur was a unique case, a unique man. You had to admit that you had been wary before becoming his therapist... he did kill several men. But as you got to know his case, read his files... your heart just broke. Arthur was the perfect example of what negligence and cruelty could do to a person, or make a person do.

You decided that, despite the circumstances, you would be kind to that man. Try to make him experience a little peace, maybe try to gain his trust and care for him. You wanted to befriend him. And without you even realizing, you had fallen... diving head first in the rabbit hole that was Arthur Fleck, crossing a point of no return.

As time passed by, you got closer and closer to Arthur. Brought him food, bought him quality cigarettes with your own money... tried to care for him as much as you could, especially knowing how the other hospital workers would treat him badly. He appreciated every single little thing, you could see it in his eyes...could feel him starting to open up to you more with each session. At the very first appointments he stayed silent, probably expecting another doctor to say some bullshit and just... not understand. But seeing your actual interest in him, Arthur started getting less shy, and with time, he even dared to get a little bold. Always respectful, but still making you blush at his attempts at flirting. It surprised you to know Arthur could be that caring, and with each visit he managed to find another sweet spot of yours.

For some unknown reason, Arthur Fleck just captivated you. Maybe because he was gentle, polite, interesting to get to know... nothing related to that “freak” image people portrayed of him. They just didn’t care to get to know him... and that infuriated you. Or maybe because he seemed to treasure you so much... no one had ever looked at you the way he did. And Arthur probably never had anyone looking at and caring for him the way you did.

The day Arthur escaped Arkham caught you (and everyone at the hospital) off guard. Several men wearing clown masks invaded the place, held some staff as hostages and broke into Arthur’s cell. You had just arrived at work when it all happened. You rushed to Arthur’s aisle, only to have a gun pointed at you by one of his followers.

"The doctor’s with me!” You heard Arthur’s urgent voice from behind you, he touched your shoulder lightly as to make you turn to face him.

“Are you ok?” You couldn’t properly respond, your breath was taken away as you realized... he was so close. There had been times where you would take his handcuffs off during therapy sessions to provide him some comfort, but... nothing like this. You obviously trusted Arthur to behave in a controlled environment, and for your surprise, it didn’t make you feel afraid to have him standing free right in front of you. There was definitely mutual trust between you two.

He had a much calmer expression now seeing you were ok. The look in his eyes was soft, Arthur always looked at you like that... so you hugged him, something you wanted to do since the first time reading through his files.

He proceeded to explain that those men were the same ones that helped him the day he shot Murray... he really did manage to start a movement, huh?

“I’m not going to stop you, Arthur.” You didn’t want to do that, anyway. “But please... be careful, ok??” you said urgently. That moment finally made you realize how bad you cared for him, how bad you were going to miss him now that he'd be gone. Would you ever see each other again?

Arthur looked at you in the eyes for just a quick moment before he kissed you. He held the side of your face ever so gently, and stole a sweet delicate kiss that surprised you, but made you melt.

He then smiled at you, and proceeded to be rushed out of the hospital by his comrades, leaving you completely speechless. That was the last time you saw Arthur Fleck.

Or so you thought.

Every day you would look into the news, searching for something that might relate to Arthur... you were so afraid for him. Police officers would definitely not be as nice now that he had escaped once again... he could be shot, killed...

You couldn’t fathom that. For weeks you frantically searched for any signs of him, but found nothing.

Months got by and your mind started slowing down a bit, you could only hope he was ok and fine wherever he was.

You missed Arthur... so, so much.

The report from the news channel stayed on your mind throughout the whole day... you felt distracted, distant. Your mind going places you definitely did not want to go. Sometimes you felt like it was best to move on from Arthur, forget him so you wouldn’t suffer so much... but you couldn’t do it. Your heart ached for him, holding onto the hope you had of seeing him again.

When it was just about nighttime, you ultimately decided to take some time for yourself and try to calm your mind a little bit. You started preparing some tea, popped a Frank Sinatra vinyl onto the record player and proceeded to grab a book to read. You couldn’t help but think Arthur would have appreciated the music...

Concentrating to read was proven to be harder than anticipated, so you got up and stopped the music out of frustration. Maybe going upstairs to your room was a better ideia... it had started to rain, that would help you calm down.

Before you grabbed a cup of tea to take to your bedroom, you rushed to close a window you didn’t quite remember opening in the first place... thankfully it didn’t rain inside.

You spent what felt like an hour or so just looking outside of your bedroom window. Watched as the rain fell gently on top of the trees, making the branches full of leaves dance ominously... the movement was so calming combined with the warmth of your tea... you finally started to calm down, the sound of the rain leading you to a trance like state.

The sound of music caught you off guard. At first you thought you were imagining things, but then remembered about the record player downstairs...

“Isn't it rich? Are we a pair? Me here at last on the ground, You in mid-air...”

Your heart skipped a beat, suddenly feeling terrified. You weren’t the type of person to consider a ghost or anything like that... so there were only two valid options in your head: the vinyl started playing on it’s on somehow, or there was an intruder.

Grabbing the switchblade you kept on your desk, you put on a robe and gathered all the courage inside yourself to go downstairs. You took each step carefully to make as little sound as possible, holding your breath involuntarily as you felt your heart pounding heavy on your chest... ok, maybe you were a little bit afraid of ghosts, after all...

“But where are the clowns? Send in the clowns.”

As you took the last few steps of the stairs, you managed to take a deep quiet breath and proceed to peek on your living room.

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Arthur was beside the record player, rocking gently from side to side in tune with the music and with his eyes closed. He was wearing his Joker outfit, makeup and all... he looked beautiful.

“A-Arthur?” you managed to say, starting to tear up and letting your blade drop to the floor.

He opened his eyes and looked at you, letting out a small gasp as he whispered your name. Arthur had planned to visit you for the longest time now, but he knew the dangers and implications of that. He had to stay low for a while, even wore a mask (much against his will) in his last public appearance... but after all those months, he grew impatient. Nothing mattered anymore, only you. And oh, you looked breathtaking. Seeing you now so vulnerable, wearing only a silk robe made Arthur rediscover a passion he thought could never get stronger.

He managed to take just a few small steps before you ran to his embrace... you couldn’t help but cry a little bit, thank goodness he was alright.

“Oh, I was so worried!” you said, now looking Arthur in the eyes. He wiped some tears from your cheeks and held your face gently, taking in the sight of you. Finally... being reunited with him felt so right.

“I missed you, doctor...” he said teasingly, making you chuckle as he smiled fondly at you. Your heart burned with passion, overwhelmed with the happiness and relief that took over you.

You found yourself running your hands up the lapels of his blazer and lightly grabbing at them, and just couldn’t help but pull him into a kiss. A wave of emotions washed through you as he kissed you back slowly, being so gentle yet passionate.

You both spent the night chuckling at each other like two teenagers, dancing around your living room barely letting go of each other’s embrace, kissing and loving each other for hours on end.

You knew what you were getting yourself into. Arthur was definitely not a saint, you knew life with him could get dangerous for both really quickly... it was all really risky and crazy.

But oh, craziness beside Arthur Fleck felt so, so good. You knew deep in your heart it would all be worth it, no matter what.

A/N: Well, I hope y’all like it! I got some amazing feedback when I posted it on my old blog, so I’m excited to see what you have to say about it! Thank you, loves! Enjoy ;^)

[leemotionalwreck]

Of Black Chats and Fallen Angels (chapter 2)

Read it here on AO3!

Chapter 1 | You are here | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

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

Tikki rolled her eyes for what had to be the millionth time that afternoon as Marinette flopped back on her bed. She had spent every moment-- from the moment Adrien drove away to the second she shut her trap door-- ranting about ‘how could he possibly think offering me an umbrella could win me over’ and ‘why was he looking at me with that stupid smile on his face’ and on and on and on. As much as Tikki adored her holder, she could be exhausting with her overthinking and lack of, for lack of a better term, ‘chill’.

“Marinette,” Tikki chided.

Marinette hadn’t heard a thing as she walked over to a project she had started earlier that week. It was white nylon off-the-shoulder number with numerous belts and buttons that shouldn’t have worked as well as they did together, with a hem that stopped mid-thigh. She fussed over the neckline and Tikki worried that she would pick up a needle. Or worse-- decide to change something. 

“Marinette… ” Tikki warned.

Nothing good ever came from a ranting, angry, Marinette; especially when said Marinette decided to start sewing. Tikki had witnessed far too many meltdowns just hours after an angry sewing session and decided it was best (and safest for the sanity of all involved) if working on any project, school, or otherwise was best reserved for a time when her holder was more stable. 

Much to Tikki’s relief, Marinette walked away from the dress, fiddling with the ends of her hair instead. 

“-And don’t even get me started on the way he showed off his stupid limo.” The girl huffed as she ran her fingers through her hair. “I mean who even does that!? Ugh, and the way he-”

“MARINETTE!” Tikki interjected. 

“Huh?” She said as if Tikki calling her name had brought her out of some sort of trance.

“You’ve gotta stop overthinking this,” Tikki sighed. “I know you don’t like him, but isn’t there a possibility that he was just trying to be helpful? People do that type of stuff, you know.”

She shot Tikki an exasperated look. “Then explain the whole gum incident.”

How? Tikki thought as she brought her tiny hands up to her face. How can she possibly be the most intelligent while also being the densest holder I’ve had in a millennium? 

Tikki took a deep breath as she prepared to explain the situation for the millionth time. Marinette was going owe her so many cookies later

*********

Marinette was confused as hell, but that was nothing new. What was new was the source of her confusion. Oftentimes, when Marinette had a hunch or a gut feeling, she listened and that was it-- but this was different.

There was something unusual about Adrien Agreste. That was what Marinette knew. She also knew that she should not, and didn’t, trust Adrien Agreste. She knew that she had no real reason not to trust Adrien Agreste, as he had done nothing to her. 

Marinette knew that she was, at the very least, physically attracted to Adrien Agreste. 

Well, she didn’t know it-- not yet at least. And maybe that was why she had been ranting to Tikki for the past three hours-- getting an extensive lecture/explanation in return. Being a teenage superhero who fought evil purple butterflies with a punning leather catboy for a partner, there had to be some shred of normalcy in her life. If obsessing over the minute details of a five-minute interaction with a guy she didn’t like was her normal, then so be it. Besides, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do. 

“Marinette” Tikki sounded like she wanted to drown herself in cookie batter. “I’m going to find something to eat. I’ll get back to you when you’ve calmed down a little”

Or that’s what she thought until something outside her window caught her eye--

An akuma. 

Damnit. Marinette knew she wasn’t exactly in the best headspace for fighting, but it wasn’t like she could coordinate certain dates with Hawkmoth. She chuckled aloud as a mental image of her, Chat, and Hawkmoth meeting at a round table popped into her head. 

“Ahem” came a noise from across the room. 

Marinette looked over at Tikki and nodded, transforming. She couldn’t help but wish for the absurd scenario as she soared above the buildings of Paris.

*********

“What’s the damage so far?” Ladybug asked as she landed right in sync on top of a building next to a running Chat Noir.

The past few months Chat Noir had been around, everything felt lighter. While Hawkmoth had most definitely been getting more intense, it seemed as if it didn’t matter as long as her partner was around. He was able to sense what needed to be done without asking or meticulously planning ahead, along with the fact that he was good with the press. While not as important, Ladybug treasured the fact that she didn’t have to worry about answering questions that required vague answers. 

They had become best friends as well. Despite not knowing the other’s identity, they knew each other inside and out. Ladybug couldn’t help but smile as she thought about the countless nights they had spent perched atop the Eiffel Tower, discussing everything from school to Hawkmoths identity to how different their lives would have been having never met. Or if one of them had been someone else. 

But there was something strange about him that she couldn’t figure out. Sure, there was the standard strangeness you would expect from a punning leather catboy, but there was something else as well. She saw it in the way he seemed to float a second longer than he should have whenever he was using his staff, or in the way his gaze lingered on shimmering patches of stars in the sky. How she had sometimes seen him whispering to the sun or moon… almost like a prayer. 

Ladybug eventually noticed that she and Chat had stopped running; he was calling her name, concerned. 

“You there M’lady?” 

She shook her head and smiled. “Yeah, sorry. So what are we looking at today?”

“Chemist from PSL Research University,” Chat began. “A coworker refused to take proper precautions before testing, which ended up hurting a couple of other chemists and about 4 interns.”

Ladybug sighed. “These are the worst kind.”

Chat nodded. “Right reason, wrong reaction.”

“Let’s get this over with?”

“Ready when you are bugaboo.”

*********

“Goddamnit,” Chat seethed as he and Ladybug ran into the sewers for a third transformation. 

Ladybug grumbled from around the corner. “I’m starting to lose sympathy for this guy.” She fed Tikki, and a pink light flashed just a second after Chat’s. “Ready to go?” 

“Just a minute.” He said before she got the chance to come around.

She fiddled with her yo-yo while she tried her best to think of a plan. So far, they had tried the lab coat, safety goggles, and ID. What more was there? 

The akuma’s design was simple enough. A pitch-black lab coat and neon yellow safety goggles-- really, Hawkmoth?-- along with their ID and a belt that held several different colored vials. Their hair stood up in an Einstein-like fashion, wild locks jutting out from all sections of their head, along with some sort of chemical that fizzed everywhere they stepped. How was that even possible?

Ladybug grimaced as she heard The Alchemist shouting from outside. “Grow a pair and show your damn faces! Why can’t Paris’ so-called heroes protect their city?” They were silent for a moment and Ladybug knew Hawkmoth must have been speaking to the victim. “Forget you both. I’ll get your miraculous and take care of this place myself. They don’t need you.”

The akuma-- or The Alchemist, as they named themselves-- had spent the better part of two hours spraying people with a liquid that kept them safe… while also making them invincible. Why the hell anyone, even an akuma, thought that would be a good idea was beyond her. 

With their newfound invincibility, people lost all inhibitions. 

In her three years of being Ladybug, the heroine had never seen havoc wreaked upon Paris like this. The streets were pure chaos as it seemed that the city’s lowest and most evil had come out of hiding. Looting, rioting, and arson could be seen anywhere you looked. She knew the screams from that night would haunt her forever, and she was sure she had seen a dead body or two somewhere. There had to be some other factor here. How could the city she had worked so hard to protect possibly be this self-destructive?

Marinette was afraid and stressed beyond belief. They had never faced anything as intense as this, what if they couldn’t fix it, what if Hawkmoth finally--

Wait… 

Momentarily pulling herself out of her thoughts, Ladybug heard a murmuring from around the corner. It was Chat Noir, but what was he doing?

“All I’m asking is that you help us out,” Chat muttered. “Just this once, then I’ll leave you alone, I swear.”

Was he-- 

Was he praying?

“Thank’s in advance I guess. If not, screw you.”

Before Ladybug got the chance to say anything, Chat came around the corner with a grim look on his face. 

“Let’s get this over with,” He said. 

And they did. 

After three transformations, plans A through S, and several words Master Fu definitely wouldn’t have approved of, The Alchemist had finally been de-evilized. Once they left the sewers, Ladybug called upon her lucky charm once again and received a canister of liquid nitrogen and a test tube. Scooping a small amount of the fizzing chemical and freezing it, the substance froze in the form of a butterfly, then smashing it and fixing the damaged caused. Ladybug took a shaky breath before making her way towards Chat and the victim.

Horrified at the destruction his abilities had caused, the victim, Dr. Marcel Roux, apologized-- close to tears. Calming him down took a while, but after reassurance, they managed to find him a safe ride home. 

Despite the ladybugs fixing everything, Ladybug and Chat Noir both had a sinking feeling that some people weren’t returning home that night.

*********

Wishing both him and the driver a good night, she and Chat sat atop the Eifel Tower, exhausted. Being home was most likely the smartest and safest option, but after what they had seen that night neither of them wanted to be alone with their thoughts that night. 

“Chat,” she began. 

“Hmm,” came a noise. Ladybug turned to him to see that he was against one of the support beams. The moonlight hit his face, and Ladybug wondered how someone could look that angelic any time of day.

“You never told me you were religious.”

His eyes snapped open and his gaze was locked with hers. “What do you mean?” 

“Earlier,” she began. “While we were in the sewers, I heard you praying. Kind of a rude one but a prayer still.”

He snorted. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself religious. I don’t go to church or practice any religion, and I definitely don’t have any sort of relationship with the man upstairs,” Ladybug noticed that he seemed to give the sky some sort of look. Almost imperceptible, but he looked as if he was angry. “But I figure when you’re that low, a little wish can’t hurt.”

She hummed in response, then yawned as she looked over the city.

“I had no idea they were capable of something like that,” she said.

Her partner gave a grim chuckle in response. “Give someone enough power, they’ll do plenty of shit you weren’t expecting.”

Marinette knew he had a point, but there was a nagging feeling in her gut that something really wasn’t right. Of course she didn’t know the people of Paris that well. She had only been a hero for a short time, but to go from hopeful and faithful to complete anarchists was drastic and unlikely. 

Chat glanced over at her, seeing the gears in her mind turning and the worry on her face. He reached over and placed a hand on her knee.

“Tonight was weird, yeah. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified too. It's horrifying seeing the city we fight so hard to protect turn on itself like that--"

"You're really not helping, you know."

"That's ‘cause you didn't let me finish," She snorted and gestured for him to continue. "Sure, all that's true, but we have each other, and that's honestly all that matters."

She rolled her eyes at him as she stood, leaning on his staff for support. "You suck at pep talks."

He grinned and squatted back down to her level. "My point is, bugaboo, that no matter what happens, I’ll be here to get through it with you. The world could be ending, and it would be ok as long as you're next to me."

She knew she was blushing and turned away as he chuckled. 

"I should get home, Chat." She smiled at his wounded dog expression. "Some of us have curfews you know."

Chat Noir grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to it. "Until we meet again My Lady." He turned away from her and vaulted off the Eifel. She watched him freefall and he spun in mid-air to face her, winking and giving her a two-finger salute.

He eventually disappeared behind buildings in the distance. Ladybug swung away, grinning stupidly at her partners' antics. While Chat had done his best to reassure her, doubt seeped into her mind. It didn't seem normal for the people of Paris to have that sort of reaction. 

What also wasn’t normal was the pair of glowing red eyes watching her from down below as she made her way home. 

[jaehyunspeachparty]

Daddy Jaehyun

i.ix.

(little bit smut, little bit angst)

From time to time you and Jaehyun argue. Some fights are simple and soft. But some last days...

day 1

It was late in the evening. The whole apartment was quiet and only light from the bedroom still shone. You were sitting on Jaehyun, your hands were clawing in his bare skin and you are moving your hips up and down. You moan softly and try to find the perfect point. This whole pregnancy made you horny and you would like to climb on Jaehyun every second. But when you looked to Jaehyun, he was mentally absent. His eyes were empty and his hands were just beside him. You try to do your best, try to ride him faster, but he did not react.

"Everything okay?" You stop your movements and look down at him worried.

"Yes continue." He puts his hands on your thighs, but kept looking past you. You're trying to ride him again to fulfill your lust, but that did not make you any fun either.

"Forget it." You sigh annoyed and get off him. You put on your sweatpants and lie down to the side. Jaehyun did not react and you thought he didn’t find you attractive anymore with your big belly.

day 2

"Daddy, what are you drinking?" The next day Jaehyun was still in thoughts. His daughter Miga was sitting next to him and noticed that too - of course in her own way.

Jaehyun did not respond to her question and kept looking into the void. You start to worry a little bit, but you were still angry about last night.

"Daddy may I drink it?" Miga points to the cup of coffee. Jaehyun did not react again and slowly you became even more angry.

"Hey, can you at least answer your daughter?" Your tone was sharp, so you waked Jaehyun out of his thoughts. But he was still siting half-present there.

"No you can not drink this." His voice was very cold and you were already shocked how he talked to your daughter. Miga also noticed his sudden coldness and began to cry. You pick her up and hug her.

"Hey, I'll make you a cocoa." Miga nodded while her little tears rolled down her cheeks. Jaehyun got up and left the apartment. You did not see him again that day.

day 3

It was the third day Jaehyun had been away all day. He did not talk to you and came home only to sleep. Tonight you could not sleep again because your baby was kicking wildly in you. You had read on the internet that the babies are being swung at day with your movement. That’s why they become active when you lie, because they are now awake. You try a little walk through the apartment, so that the little boy falls asleep in your belly again. It was 2 AM and Jaehyun was still not there. But suddenly you hear someone unlocking the door. Jaehyun finally came home and he looked surprised that you were standing in front of him.

"Why are you still awake?" He took off his bag and took off his shoes.

"I'm glad to see you again too." You could not hold back this cynical statement. But when you realize that your child kicked around wildly, you start to move up and down again. Jaehyun ignored you, did not even kiss you and made his way to the bedroom.

"Can you finally tell me what's going on?" So many scenarios went through your head. In the end, you were even scared that he would leave you or not love you anymore.

"Y/N, I just want to sleep." He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a deep sigh. But you can not stand this situation anymore, that was all too much for you.

"Jaehyun, please tell me what's going on. I beg you!“ Tears rolled down your cheeks because you were so helpless at the moment.

"They want to make a new album with NCT U and they don’t know yet if they include me. I'm working my ass off so I can be a part of this project. So have some understanding.“ His tone was sharp and you were really shocked. It was still about the same topic. He had mentioned it once, but you did not elaborate on it.

"A little bit of understanding, are you serious? Let's go through it, theoretically, when will you make your comeback? In three months? Jaehyun! In three months, I'll give birth to our second child and I don’t want you to leave me in this time. I need you, Miga needs you! You wanted a second child, you should have thought it over first.“ You're be in a rage because you could not believe what you're hearing. Of course you wanted to support him, but not at this time.

"You know what? That’s why I did not tell you this. " Jaehyun sighs and opens the door to the bedroom. But you run in front of him and take his bedding.

"You can sleep on the couch." You push his blanket and pillow into his hand and send him out of the room.

day 4

Miga was ill that day. She had a fever and could barely swallow. The pediatrician had prescribed something for her, but she still suffered a lot. You wrote Jaehyun several times that his daughter was ill, but he did not respond.

Miga slept in your bed this night. She woke up over and over again, because of the sore throat and you then watched her favorite children's tv-show. It was 3 AM and Miga has just fallen asleep again. Her little head lay on your stomach until you realize that the little boy in you started to kick wildly. You gently put your daughter on Jaehyun's side of the bed and you try to close your eyes a little when you suddenly hear the door open. You get up and look into the kitchen, where Jaehyun is trying to fill a glass of water.

"You're drunk?" You look shocked at your husband, who could hardly stand upright. He leaned against the kitchen counter and drank the water in one go.

"Jaehyun, what's going on lately?" You were really desperate, because the last few days have burdened you a lot. Not a second passed without you thinking about Jaehyun.

"You know what's going on", he babbled and sat down on the couch, where you had his bedding again prepared.

"It's just like that, you have a family now and you're not an idol anymore. Just deal with it." You were so mad at him, but at the same time you wanted him back. You didn’t want to sleep without him anymore.

"Deal with it?" Apparently, your statement had made him even more angry. "You have no idea how it is, I've worked all the time to be a musician and you don’t know what it's like giving something up." You look stunned at Jaehyun, you could not believe what he just said.

"Jaehyun, I gave up my whole life for you and the family. When I got pregnant with Miga, I was about to become a partner of the event company where I was working for, but I wanted to be with you. And I never wanted to marry an idol and be in public, and now we can not have a normal day in Seoul where we are not photographed. Jaehyun I gave up my privacy for you I decided to give up my carrier to our family, but I'm not complaining. So think about what you're saying next time." You crunch your teeth and rush into the bedroom angrily. You close the door and went to bed to Miga.

day 5

The day seemed endless today. Miga’s health didn’t get better. She lay crying like baby in your arms, as she still could not swallow without pain.

"Mommy it hurts so much." Her face was red and more tears rolled down her cheeks. You wanted so much to take away the pain, but you were helpless. The pediatrician said it could last a few days. You look at the little Shiba Inu puppy, which Jaehyun and Miga found two weeks ago, who still had no name. He was laying loyal next to Miga.

You're humming a song for your daughter and hoping you could soothe her a little bit. The medicine you gave her earlier may work now and she slowly closed her eyes. Now tears ran down your face and the little puppy snuggled up against you. You had to smile, because it was really cute. But there was still so much sadness in you. You just wanted Jaehyun back, as he was a few days ago. You hear the door open again, only this time you were so surprised that he came home so early. It was 2 pm and this was pretty early for Jaehyun.

You did not know how to react, so you just stuck with Miga. You hear how he put down everything and how the steps came closer to you. He knelt in front of you and stroked Miga's face.

"Did she just fall asleep?" His voice was suddenly very gentle and he seemed much calmer than before. You nod and Jaehyun lifted Miga up. He carried her to the nursery, put her in her bed and then came back to you.

"I'm an idiot." He sits next to you and drove threw his hair. You were quite surprised by his statement, but you let him talking.

"I really wanted to be part of the album. I totally forgot about you, Miga and our son. And what I said yesterday ..." He sighs and you see the regret in him. "I am so grateful to you that you are there for our children and still let me be a musician. I don’t deserve you. " He sadly lowers his head and you see that he had seen his mistake.

"Don’t say that! We both deserve us! I know it's not easy for you, I don’t want to stop you from making music, but the timing is just not good." You take his hand and look at him sadly. You were also sorry that he had to make compromises, but in the first place were now your children.

"I know, that's why I announced today in the meeting that I will not participate." He looks up and stares at you. You were really surprised, you did not think he would do that.

"What really?" He nods and answers your question. You look at him stunned, but at the same time a stone fell from your heart.

"Y/N I love you, you are the most important to me." He took his hand, put it on your cheek and kissed you.

Daddy Jaehyun Masterlist

[ivegotthefanficinme]

Freedom Part 9 Mandalorian X Reader

Summary: An escaped slave owned by the Hutt clan, with the knowledge of dark clan secrets.  A bounty is set and the best hunter in the parsec is hired, The Mandalorian. Two vastly different paths cross. Both are scarred physically and mentally by their past. Can they ever truly be free? *SLOW BURN*

Warnings: Blood, Mentions of slavery, PTSD, Rape implications, FLUFF, Language, violence

Word Count: 3.7k

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (You are here), Part 10

EXTRA WARNING/ A/N: This chapter is bloody and violent. Also, I apologize in advance for what I’m about to do...

The Mandalorian was numb when he woke up. He was unable to decide if it was the cold, pain overload, or the fear and heartbreak that caused the numbness.

He laid there in the cold snow a few minutes more, staring up at the gray sky above him, thinking about you. About how he failed you. About how he had managed to break every promise he had ever made to you in one day.

He finally decided that if he didn't get up he would freeze to death, and that was definitely not what the child needed.

“Shit, the kid,” he groans.

He manages to get to his feet, limping stiffly back to the ship.

The pain in his chest hasn’t gone away…. In fact, that was the only pain he felt right now. He quickly realized that this was not pain that bacta could help with.

He closes up the ship, warmth starting to seep back into his bones.

Once he has regained feeling in his hands, he pulls the child out of the small hiding space, a false compartment in the floor of the cockpit. It coos expectantly, looking around the room with its big eyes. Looking for you.

Din sighs, suddenly feeling suffocated by his helmet. He tears it off, looking down at the small creature.

It’s sad eyes stare back up at him, as if asking, “Where is she?”

Din looks away from the child, “Your momma isn’t going to be back for a while.”

The child seems to understand as it lets out a sad whimper.

“I know buddy, I know.”

Din can feel his own heartbreaking in his chest, a stabbing, aching pain. He doesn’t know what to do with this type of pain. The pain he hasn’t felt since he lost his parents as a child. 

He holds the child up against him, feeling his own tears slip past his lashes.

Looking down at the child, he sighs, “I have to find her.” He rises to his feet, setting the child down in the co-pilot's seat. He places his helmet back on and takes his own seat, preparing the ship to take off.

***

“Are you insane?”

He shrugs, “Maybe I am, but I have to try.”

“You’ve gone soft Mando!” Cara Dune laughs.

The cantina on Navarro had been put back together quite nicely, especially after the literal firefight it went through.

“Look, I just need you to look after the kid while I go find her. This is something that I have to do, by myself. It’s too dangerous to bring him along.”

“Mando…” Cara sighs.

“I just need you to do this… please,” Din whispers.

Cara glances over at the child sleeping in its white pram.

“Tell me about her.”

Din hesitates, “She’s… She’s unlike any being I have ever met before. She loves that kid and is willing to sacrifice herself and the rest of the universe for him. She was… is a Hutt slave. So she is just as messed up as me.”

“Is she pretty?” Cara asks.

Din’s eyes glaze over underneath his helmet as he pictures your face in his mind.

“The most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

Cara suddenly stands, nearly shoving his chair backwards as she pushes his shoulders back.

“Then what are you waiting for? Go find her, womp rat will be safe with me.”

“Thank you,” he breathes.

***

It had been a week since you had been taken, and Din was starting to lose it.

He stopped at every planet, asking about Limax Hutt.  Every time, it got him into a blaster battle. He would walk away with a sliver more of knowledge and bloody carnage left behind him. 

Finally, on the tenth planet, he got the location of Limax Hutt. On a far outer rim planet, Tayips. The whole flight there he was jittery, nervous.

If he didn’t do this carefully, and quickly, he knew that you would either be dead before he got there or die in the escape. He wasn’t willing to risk either scenario.

When he arrived on Tayips it had been several weeks, he was worried that he was too late. In his efforts to disguise himself, he removed his newer armor, trading it out for the beskar that had long lost its integrity, but managed to make him look like a different Mandalorian. A Mandalorian that Grahvix and his guards wouldn’t recognize. 

He attended court and the dinner festivities. His eyes never left your form that day, lounging uncomfortably in the crook of LImax’s tail. 

He had a hard time controlling himself as he watched Grahvix’ lusting glances and the wandering hands of various court goers. All he wanted was to draw his blaster and kill all of them.

But he didn’t. It was too dangerous to do.

He saw the way you winced when you moved, barely covered by the garments provided. He saw the bruises on your hips and your upper thighs when he caught a glimpse of your leg through the long slit in what he wouldn’t even call a skirt.

And when you danced that night… he was hypnotized. Entranced by the way your body moved, the sway of your hips. How you could still move so gracefully even with the little leeway the chains on your wrists gave. 

His heart broke when he saw your back. The fresh wounds from the lashes barely scabbed over. Once more he wanted to do nothing more than murder every person in that room. 

Your eyes were closed the entire dance, whether from pain or trying to imagine that you were somewhere else, he could not tell. 

Your dance ended right in front of him, your head thrown back, your back arched, you were close enough he could touch you, but he didn’t.

It took everything in him to not reach out and run his hand through your hair. If you’d have just opened your eyes, you would have seen him. You would have recognized him, he knows it. You would have known that he had found you, just as he had promised. 

But you didn’t, your eyes stayed shut and he saw a small tear slip out from underneath one. He watched as Grahvix took you by the chain between your wrists and lead you out of the room.

He turned and left then. Going back to the Crest, changing back into his good beskar. This time when he left, it would be with you. 

It was barely dark when he snuck back into Limax’ palace. He couldn’t help but jump when he heard an ear-piercing scream. He knew it was you.

He headed in the direction he heard it come from. He turned down a hallway, now the sound of a sharp crack and a weak wail was audible.

He keeps his blaster poised, ready to shoot anyone he sees coming down the hallway. 

“You’ve been doing this for years.” 

Crack. 

“And yet you still don’t satisfy me like you are supposed to.” 

Crack. 

Din stops just outside of a door, the voice comes from inside the room behind it. 

Crack.

“Maybe I’ll kill you this time. Save me some trouble.”

Crack.

At this, Din shoves the door open, taking aim and shooting Grahvix in the side before he could turn around. As Grahvix hits the floor gasping and bleeding, Din’s eyes land on you.

Your back was towards him as you slouched against the pole your hands were chained to. You hung by your arms, your legs having given out underneath you. The lashes had reopened every wound on your back, blood trailed down your back, down your legs, and into a puddle on the floor under you.

Small whimpers of pain left your throat as your head lulled against the pole, you were barely conscious.

Din raced to you, gently taking you by the waist, lifting you up just enough to unhook your arms. He holds you against him for a moment, pulling out the bacta spray he had brought. He sprays a thin coat over your back, hoping that it would be enough for now. The chains clang softly as he lifts your arms up over him, slipping them around his neck. He then lifts you into his arms, one arm under your knees, the other pressed as lightly as he could against your back, trying not to hurt you any more than you already were. 

He catches a glimpse of your eyes as you look up at him. He sees the hint of recognition in less than a second.

“Din?” you rasp.

But before he can respond your head lulls into his chest as you slip into unconsciousness. He holds you against him for a moment, reveling in the fact that you were alive, although hurt, you were alive.

He turns, glancing down at Grahvix writhing in pain on the floor.

“You thought you could escape? With her?” He coughs, grinning. “You won’t get past that door.” He reveals a small device around his wrist with a blinking red light. A panic button.

“Shit,” Din mutters.

Guards start to file into the room. 

“Take him to see Limax. And help me up off this damn floor,” commands Grahvix.

“I should have killed you,” Mando sighs.

“You should have,” Grahvix agrees.

The guards come towards him. He shakes his head.

“Just lead me there. I can’t do anything when I’m carrying her. And I’m not putting her down.”

The guards surround him and lead him back to the main room of the palace. 

As he walks, Din feels you shift slightly.

“Din?” You slur, the pain still overloading your body.

“Shhh Y/N, I’ve got you,” he replies.

You moan in pain as you curl into him, your head now resting on his shoulder, in the soft space between his armor and his neck.

“Tell me… Tell me I’m dead and this is the rest of eternity… that the pain is just my imagination…” you whisper.

Din takes a breath, “No, love, it's not, but you are safe now. I’ve got you. I won’t let anyone else hurt you.”

He can feel your warm breath through the fabric around his neck.

“Why… why did you come Din? I-I told you not too…” you slur.

His grip on you tightens ever so slightly as he follows the guards into Limax’ throne room. “You know why,” he whispers.

The guards stop him in the middle of the floor, directly in front of the Hutt.

Limax’ orange eyes thoroughly examine Din as Grahvix is helped onto the platform by one of the guards.

“This Mandalorian has kept me from punishing that slave, and tried to escape with her… again,” Grahvix says to Limax.

The Hutt grumbles lowly in a language that Din doesn’t understand.

“That’s your favorite pet,” replies Grahvix.

Limax lets out an angry sound, his thin lips curling in a nasty smirk.

Grahvix grins, “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea my lord.”

Din’s mind is racing, glancing around the room, trying to calculate the chances of escape. If he set you down, he would be able to draw his blaster. Three guards surround him, two at the doors, one on either side of the throne, and then an extra shot at Grahvix for good measure.

Eight shots.

The odds were incredibly stacked against him.

“Don’t Din…” he hears you warn, knowing exactly what he was thinking, “We won’t make it.”

Your back was beginning to go numb, and your thoughts were beginning to clear as the bacta started to work.

Grahvix turns to you and the Mandalorian, his grin sending a shiver down your spine.

“You use carbonite quite often, am I right, Mandalorian?” Grahvix asks.

Din nods, unsure of where this was heading.

“Din, I think I might be able to stand now,” you whisper.

He sets you down on your feet, your legs start to crumple underneath you but he keeps an arm around your waist, holding you up as you try to get sturdy on your feet.

Barely standing on your own, you continue to lean against him for support. Clinging to him like your life depends on it, but you can tell, he doesn’t want to let go of you either.

The corner of Grahvix’ mouth twitches. 

“We will give you two choices, and I won’t tell you what either outcome will result in,” Grahvix says. “You can either walk out of here alive, without the girl or stay here and test your fate.”

“Go, Din. Please,” you whisper as he looks down at you.

He shakes his head, “I’m not breaking another promise.” He looks back up at Grahvix, “I will stay.”

Grahvix grins widely now, “I was hoping that would be your answer.”

Limax laughs suddenly. An unsettling feeling descends upon you, Limax rarely laughs and when he does, it's not about anything good.

“Now on to business. The slave still has not received all of her punishment from the first escape attempt, and now she must also pay the price for a second,” Grahvix says.

Your stomach drops, unable to fathom the pain you will be in.

Grahvix thinks for a moment, “Still thirty lashes left from the first punishment, and hmm seventy-five for this attempt since you weren’t able to leave the palace. Then another Fifty for trying to kill me. In all one hundred fifty-five lashes.”

You almost pass out again, Din holds you up. That’s more than anyone has ever been sentenced to in the entire time you have been enslaved here. 

“So ten per week for… sixteen weeks roughly.”

You can barely breathe, you are shaking in fear, he’s trying to kill you. 

Din glances down at you, you were in no shape to take any more lashes for quite a while.

“Then let me take some of them. The seventy-five to start,” Din looks back up to Grahvix.

“That could kill you!” You exclaim, clutching Din’s shoulder.

He shrugs, “It’ll be okay.”

Grahvix smirks, “Such a hero, you can’t take them all but you can have the seventy-five.”

Din nods. You stare at him wide-eyed, barely able to suck in a breath.

“And you wait to give her anymore.”

Grahvix gives a curt nod, “Strip then, let's get on with it.”

“The helmet and my shirt stay on, I will remove my cloak and my armor, but that is all,” Din offers.

“Please, Din. Please don’t do this.” 

He reaches up, pulling his cloak off with one hand, then he wraps it around your shoulders. You stand on your own now as you watch as Din carefully removes his breastplate because, although it offered no protection for his back, he feared that it may restrict his movement.

He knew that this was going to be painful, very painful, but he would rather take it than watch you in that much pain.

Grahvix hands off the whip to one of the guards, since he is wounded.

“Would you like to be… restrained… in case you pass out before we are done here?” Grahvix asks.

Din shakes his head, turning his back on them and kneeling.

“Din, please don’t do this,” you beg.

“Get out of the way, Y/N,” Din replies. “Sit down in front of me, I don’t want you to watch my back as this happens.”

You move silently, tears already pricking at your eyes. You pay no attention to the two guards moving a large rectangular object into the room as you kneel down in front of him, staring at the small patch of sand between you. 

“Hey,” he whispers. “Look at me.”

His gloved hand gently lifts your chin up, your eyes land on his visor.

You jump when the first lash hits him, he barely flinches.

“Don’t take your eyes off of my visor, okay?”

You nod as another lash hits him. 

The tears stream down your face as you sob with every lash. Behind the visor, he keeps his own eyes trained on yours, trying with all his might to be quiet, knowing it would only cause you more pain.

He grunts softly at thirty, taking most of them without a sound, either that or the modulator just wasn’t picking them up.

You squeeze your eyes shut, turning your head away. You jump with every crack of the whip.

“Look at me…” Din growls through his teeth at forty.

You look back at him again. His gloved hands are spread wide over his knees, clutching them tightly.

He lets out a sharp huff of air at fifty. You can tell he is really hurting now, but the lashes don’t stop, he still has another twenty-five.

At sixty-five he seems to barely be holding himself up as he sways slightly.

He audibly groans at seventy, gasping now.

Finally, the seventy-fifth lash hits his back and he falls forward, his helmeted head landing in your lap.

You make the mistake of glancing down at his back, his shirt is in tatters, and there's blood, blood everywhere.

“Oh maker,” you gasp.

Din groans, “I’ll be alright.” He turns himself over, so you don’t have to see his mutilated back. You hold him against you as he takes in shaking breaths, not caring about the blood getting all over you. His helmeted head now rests on your shoulder.

You look back up as Grahvix laughs with Limax.

This is too much for you way too much for you.

“Get him out of here,” Grahvix commands.

“What?” Your head snaps up.

“We can’t have him getting in our way, now can we?” Grahvix says.

Two guards yank Din up by his forearms, he tries to fight them off but he is too weak to pull his arms from their grip.

You whirl around to Grahvix, “What are you doing?”

“Removing a threat,” he shrugs.

The guards drag Din away to a panel standing upright on one side of the room. You immediately realize what they are about to do.

Your eyes go wide, “No! Not in the state he is in!”

Grahvix just smirks, “Yes.”

You watch in utter horror as the two guards start to lift Din into the carbonite panel. They begin trying to take his armor off, but you race over, sliding into the confusion and placing yourself between them and Din before they can reach for his helmet. You push away the guards, slipping Din’s arm around your shoulders, and one arm around his waist, the other pressed against his chest, you just manage to hold him up, but it’s quickly sapping what little strength you had left.

“The helmet stays on,” you say breathlessly.

You turn your attention back to Grahvix, “Don’t do this.”

“Y/N…” Din rasps.

Grahvix just shakes his head as the palace nurse droid tends to his blaster wound.

“What do you want, Grahvix. I’ll… I’ll do anything…” you beg.

“Y/N… don’t…” Din gasps.

You turn your face to him, “Don’t fucking what? You just took seventy-five lashes for me, you are about to be frozen in carbonite, are you trying to tell me not to risk my life for you? Damnit, this is why I told you not to come here.” Your voice softens, “I can’t lose you…”

“I can’t lose you either,” he whispers, placing his hand against yours on his chest.

“You can beg, and promise all you like, but I can make you do whatever I want. I don’t need you to promise anything,” Grahvix sneers.

He gives a nod, “Leave the helmet.”

At that, two more guards tear you away from Din, while the other two lift him into the panel. Once more Din tries to fight them, but he just doesn’t have the strength to put up much of a fight.

Both you and Din know exactly what is going to happen, having seen many beings frozen and unfrozen, but Din wasn’t prepared, and neither were you.

You struggle against the two guards, but your exhausted body doesn’t have much fight left. 

“PLEASE! NO!”

They drag you literally kicking and screaming a short distance away. You honestly don’t know how you have tears left to cry.

Somehow Din finds the strength to lift his head as the guards lean him against the back of the panel. Through the visor, his eyes meet yours.

“I will figure something out… I love you.”

With that, the guard presses a button on a wireless control, and the gas engulfs the Mandalorian. He gasps when he feels it, like cold beskar against his skin,

You scream, a shrieking wail full of heartbreak and anger. 

You know that even though he can’t move or see anything, Din will be able to feel the pain from his shredded back. He will be able to think, long and hard about an escape plan. He will hear your every cry, scream, and whisper, and be able to do nothing.

You break out of the guards’ grips and run back to his frozen form. 

Sobs choke you as you set your hands on either side of his helmet.

“Din?” you gasp.

He can hear you just fine, and it breaks his heart. You’re so close and yet he can’t reach out to feel you or offer you any comforting words.

You collapse to the floor in front of his frozen form. Your exhausted body starting to give out on you.

“Now…” starts Grahvix, “You really are mine.”

He hudges your weeping form with his boot.

“And you…” He walks up close to the frozen Mandalorian. “You get to listen to everything I do to her and do absolutely nothing about it."

If Din could punch him, he would. He swears to himself that as soon as he is free of this frozen prison, he is going to kill Grahvix.

You stare in anger at Grahvix, if you had the strength to stand, you would have choked him.

Grahvix waves his hand. “Take them to a cell… and let them catch up for a while,” he laughs. “Oh and leave that remote with me.”

You are hauled to your feet and then shoved around corners and downstairs. Back down into the darkness of the palace you go with the Mandalorian’s frozen form trailing behind you.

To be continued...

A/N: And that’s why I apologized in advance... Let me know what you thought, and comment if you want to be added to the tag list!

Tags:

@lokilover-39 @fleurdemiel145 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @just-a-casual-fangirl-011 @70sgubler @pascalisthepunkest @ispilledmyink @imaginebeinlovedbyme @fastidious-and-a-mess @taman-a @yumisaru @whos-too-bi @frantheseer @retrobhaddie @aeryntheofficial @renreypoe

[emy-loves-you]

Sanders Sides AU-gust Day 16: Treasure Hunters

Patton and Logan are husbands and partners, traveling across the globe in search of hidden treasures. The one expedition that Patton can’t attend, Logan bites off more than he can chew. Patton/Logan POV, Logicality and Prinxiety

Day 15 | Masterlist | Day 17

Patton sighed as his husband ran around the kitchen. “Lo, I can clean up on my own.”

Logan huffed as he finished cleaning up breakfast. “Your metatarsal is fractured, Patton. I do not want you performing any strenuous activities and potentially hurting yourself.” He gestured to Patton’s foot, which was wrapped up in a light blue cast. “Besides, what kind of husband would I be if I couldn’t help my love when he’s injured?”

Patton smiled. “You’d still be my perfect hubby.” He slowly got out of his chair in the dining room, using his crutches to maneuver himself. “If you won’t let me clean up, then I’ll be crocheting in the living room.” He made his way to the living room, his eyes briefly moving towards the different photos and artifacts that lined the walls. Every inch of this room painted a picture of their lives. Patton and Logan Sanders. Archaeologists/Treasure Hunters of 12 years, husbands of 10. Patton sighed dreamily, remembering when they’d met on the outskirts of Turkey. It had been love at first sight (in Patton’s opinion at least). Patton continued to reminisce as he sat on the couch, pulling out a scarf he was making. It was currently early November, and Patton wanted to make scarves and hats for the two of them to wear when it started to snow here in New York.

Eventually, Logan finished cleaning the kitchen and joined Patton in the living room. Patton made his scarf while Logan leaned on his side, reading a book. Patton glanced at the book a bit back a snort. Judging by the images, it seemed to be an instructional book for reading hieroglyphics (in Egyptian of course. Logan was so extra when it came to learning). They spent the next few hours in relative silence, the occasional clink of crochet hooks or the turn of a page lulling them deeper into the peaceful scenario they’ve created.

Eventually, Logan sat his book down and spoke. “I can still cancel my trip.”

Patton shook his head. “You’ve always wanted to go to Egypt, Lo. And who knows when you’ll get another opportunity like this. You’re gonna be the first person to see inside that tomb!”

Logan sighed. “But it won’t be the same without you there beside me.”

Patton chuckled, running his fingers through Logan’s hair. “I’m sure you’ll have fun. And as soon as you get back, we’ll have the rest of the years to ourselves. I’ll even bake you a pie for when you get back!”

Logan winced. “Please don’t. I’ll just be worrying about you getting burnt the entire expedition.”

Patton smiled softly. “Then I’ll make you something that doesn’t require an oven.” He leaned down to kiss Logan’s forehead. “I’ll be fine on my own, I promise.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Patton sighed as he took in the now empty house. The expedition was set to last for three weeks. Three weeks of crocheting and cleaning and not having a worrywart husband breathing down his neck (Patton loved Logan’s protectiveness, but sometimes it was just too much). Patton hummed to himself as he sat down to finish his scarf. He wanted to get all of the scarves and hats done before Logan got back.

-------------------------------------------------------

Logan sighed as he listened to the local’s ramblings. Usually Patton was the one to gather public information while Logan gathered written information, but sadly his love wasn’t here with him. Logan ignored the thoughts and focused on what the man was saying.

Apparently, one of the men had stumbled upon the undiscovered tomb of King Roman, one of the less commonly known Pharaohs. That was because he never took a lover. Well, he never took a female lover. While his twin brother Remus provided heirs and directed the kingdom financially, King Roman was the general of his armies. He was present in nearly every battle alongside Virgilius, his second-in-command. They were suspected to be in a romantic relationship, and it was rumored that after Roman and Virgilius died on the battlefield, Remus preserved both of their bodies in the pyramid. While the textbooks say it’s because Virgilius was Roman’s loyal protector, most people believed it was because of their relationship. It was said that after King Roman was killed on the battlefield, Virgilius slaughtered the opposing army single-handedly before dying. Whether he died from battle wounds or if he took his own life was up to interpretation.

None of the locals wished to enter the pyramid, lest they be cursed. Logan knew the real reason, however. Homosexuality was still illegal in Egypt. They most likely either didn’t wish to sully themselves by entering the resting place of a homosexual ruler, or they were afraid that they would get ‘cursed with homosexuality’ if they trespassed. The amount of aggression towards homosexuality upset Logan greatly, and for the first time on this expedition, he was thankful that Patton was not present. It was upsetting enough to still be using his original surname (he had taken Patton’s last name when they married, but he used ‘Croft’ in all work-related scenarios in case the country they were in was homophobic), but it was always soul-crushing to treat Patton as nothing more than a coworker on these expeditions.

Logan fiddled with the thin chain of his necklace, where his wedding ring sat under his clothes. He was only a few days in, and he was already wishing to see Patton again.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Patton took off his wedding ring and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. Today was cleaning day!

Patton hummed several tunes under his breath as he cleaned the house from top to bottom. Even with a broken foot, he completed each task efficiently and enthusiastically. He cleaned the bathrooms, the kitchen, the bedroom, the guest bedroom, and now he was cleaning the living room. He whistled as he dusted off different artifacts and photo frames. He smiled fondly as he dusted a photo from their wedding day. He let his mind be pulled back to memory land as he cleaned. Everything from that day brought happy tears to his eyes. From the preparations, to Logan’s face as he saw Patton walking down the aisle, even the brief scare when they couldn’t find the rings. Patton felt his eyes water as he blew some dust off of the frame, their wedding vows playing in his head.

‘I will love you, forever and always’

----------------------------------------------------------

Logan felt his eyes water as he blew the dust off of the sarcophagus. There were multiple hieroglyphics and what appeared to be old Latin written on the casing. Logan struggled to read it.

‘...find...afterlife...live again...forever and always’

Logan snapped a few pictures with his camera. Latin was Patton’s area of expertise. Maybe he could decipher it when he got home. Logan examined the sarcophagus. It appeared to be the tomb of Virgilius. Logan opened up the sarcophagus and was unsurprised to find a mummified corpse. What did surprise him was the necklace around the mummy’s neck. Logan readjusted his gloves before carefully removing the necklace. It was a beautiful onyx color with what appeared to be amethyst gemstones. Logan carefully sealed it in a plastic bag before setting it inside of his satchel. Once he discovered nothing else of value in the room, he closed the sarcophagus before making his way to the next room. He left the mummy alone for now; it would most likely be donated to a museum, and he had multiple days to analyze the body before then.

After a few more hours of searching, Logan finally found what he assumed to the sarcophagus of King Roman. The inscription on this tomb was less corroded, and Logan was able to read another part of it.

‘...find...afterlife...blood...awaken...live again...forever and always’

Logan took another photo before opening the sarcophagus. Like Virgilius. Roman’s mummified corpse had a piece of jewelry on it. It was a gold bracelet with ruby gemstones. Logan went to remove the bracelet when it suddenly moved. Logan watched as the bracelet shot up and latched itself onto the sliver of bare skin between Logan’s glove and arm. He went to remove the bracelet and quickly found that he couldn’t. It looked as if it had melded to his skin. Logan turned back to the mummy and screamed.

---------------------------------------------------------

Patton screamed as he smacked the wall with his broom. Spider spider HATE SPIDERS! Patton continued to scream and smack until he was sure that the spider was dead. Even then, Patton couldn’t stop his racing heart. Not for the first time since Logan left, Patton had wished he didn’t tell Logan to go. Patton depended on Logan, just as Logan depended on Patton. They needed each other for physical, mental, and emotional support. And for killing creepy-crawly death dealers.

Patton jumped as he heard his phone ring. He smiled as he read the caller ID: Lolo <3. Patton quickly answered the phone. “Hey Lo, you will not believe what just happened-”

“I’m coming home.”

Patton was shocked at being cut off, then frowned at what Logan said. “Why?” Logan was only 3 days into his expedition. This was probably the first day he’d entered the pyramid. So why was he already leaving?

Logan’s voice was shaky as he answered. “I-I’ll show you when I get home, Pat. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you over the phone.”

Patton snorted. “Lo, I took you to a fairy circle on our anniversary. Try me.”

Logan sighed. “King Roman, the dead Pharoh? He’s not dead anymore.”

[loveactionsspeaklouder]

dangerous love - erling haaland & jadon sancho fanfic

Part 3 – Ending

When Grace was six, she watched a film with her older brother. The film wasn’t known for being scary but it had elements in it that put a horrible feeling in her stomach, she knew that it was a situation that she never wanted to find herself in. Little did she know, fourteen years later she would find herself having to deal with the aftermath. She had found herself at Erling’s house; just the two of them, alone and talking about their issues.

But they weren’t alone for long.

Just before Erling had the chance to kiss Grace, they were interrupted by strange voices from downstairs. The footsteps were noisier as they moved closer towards the room the two ex-lovers were in; the voices became deafening, the breathes became heavier, the screams became louder.

Grace was terrified. She had never been in this position before, she was just glad that she had Erling with her. Her cheeks were bright red from all the crying, she had lost count of all the bruises and scratches that now covered her dainty body. She didn’t know how long they had been in the room, but she was praying that it was almost over.

-

Fourteen days on and Grace still wasn’t feeling herself, most nights she would cry herself to sleep. She had excused herself from work, she didn’t know how long she was going to be off for but she knew it was going to take some time before she was ready to go back. She hadn’t properly spoken to Jadon in seven days; the last conversation they had was just before she left the hospital, he was trying to be strong around her but it was becoming tough.

That wasn’t helped by the constant presence of Erling, Grace found comfort in her former boyfriend. Not only had they been through the same experience, he was the only person she truly felt she could be herself around. As the days went on she found herself wishing that everything could back to the way it was; she felt bad for Jadon, she understood that it was awkward for him.

-

Jadon had spent twenty minutes staring at his teammates; he was hosting the latest team bonding session, but his mind was still on Grace. He had only been asked a simple question by Marco, but even that was hard to answer.

How was he doing? He didn’t have the answer, he was feeling lots of emotions.

“Bro, you good?” Jadon’s eyes focused on a waving Marco. He scanned the room to see everyone’s eyes on him, patiently waiting for an answer. His gaze landed on Erling, they hadn’t spoken since the incident had happened.

“It’s been a difficult couple of weeks, but I’m doing good,” Jadon said, a reassuring smile appearing on his face.

But he was lying. The past two weeks had been a nightmare and he knew it was all his fault, he just didn’t want to admit that to anybody yet. However, he knew that he had to be honest for the people he cared about to start healing, he was just worried about the consequences the truth would cause.

- Erling knew something was bothering Jadon, they hadn’t said a word to each other in nearly two weeks. They had tried to make conversation but it always ended quickly; Jadon was finding it difficult to accept the budding new friendship between the pair, whilst Erling was annoyed at the lack of interest his teammate had shown in Grace recently.

“I know you said to the team your alright bro, but I don’t believe you. Are you angry with me and Grace?” Erling sighed, he needed answers.

“I’m not mad at you, I’m not overly happy with what’s going on between you two but I have no right to complain,” Jadon said with a shrug of the shoulders.

“It’s such a messed-up situation,” Erling exhaled. He understood how hard this conversation was going to be for the both of them, but he knew it was one they needed to have. “But you need to sort yourself out and be there for Grace, she really needs you!”

“Please don’t tell me how I’m supposed to act with my girlfriend, it’s between me and her!”

Grace was now sitting on the stairs outside the living room; she had heard the loud voices and wondered what was going on, she was surprised to hear the two teammates in a deep conversation.

“Then start acting like it!” Erling yelled. “You know what she’s been through and you haven’t been there for her since it happened!”

“It’s because I can’t!” Jadon screamed. He was now pacing around the living room, anger filling his body. “I can’t face her knowing what I did. I look in her eyes and I see the sadness and hurt and all I can think of is how it’s my fault, I caused this.”

Erling froze; loads of scenarios were now going through his mind, every new one making it hard for him to hold in his rage. “How is this your fault? Please tell me that you didn’t have something to do with this!”

Jadon took a slow deep breath, he was preparing himself for the words that were about to come out of his mouth. “Please listen so I can explain everything!” Jadon pleaded, earning a little nod from Erling. “After I found out about your relationship with Grace I was so angry, the only person I felt comfortable speaking with was my brother. I was so convinced that she was still in love with you and going to leave me that I started going crazy, I needed to find out if anything was still there.”

“So, this all happened because you were jealous? Grow up Jadon, you should have spoken to us!”

“I didn’t know this was going to happen,” Jadon sighed. “They were supposed to watch and question you and Grace on a night out, I had no idea they were going to do what they did. I was devastated when I found out, I was so scared about what would happen when you found out I was involved.”

Erling was in shock, he didn’t know how to respond to what the Englishman was saying. His thoughts were interrupted by the slamming of the door, where a red-faced Grace was now stood. She was staring at her boyfriend; anger building within her body, she wasn’t sure what words would come out of her mouth.

“I am struggling to process that the reason I am covered in bruises, scars and scratches, is because you were jealous of my connection with my former partner!” Grace screamed, she was now stood inches away from Jadon’s face. “What makes it worse is that it’s taken you two weeks to reveal this. I was in the hospital crying myself to sleep whilst you were sat next to me knowing the reason this happened!”

Jadon couldn’t control his emotions, the tears started to fall at a rapid pace. The misery in Grace’s eyes were so evident, he knew that this was going to be the end of their relationship. He had no words left to say, he understood that it was going to take time before he was potentially forgiven.

- Grace started to feel a small breeze on her cheeks; she couldn’t remember how long she had been stood in the same spot, but she knew it was in double figures. She didn’t know what emotion she was feeling, she had felt numerous emotions over the past few weeks. She started to get flashbacks as she scanned her location, she knew this place all too well.

That place being Erling’s house.

Three weeks ago; she found herself in the same spot, little did she know the events that would occur. She still wasn’t over that day and it was made worse knowing that her now ex-boyfriend was involved.

Her thoughts were soon interrupted by the figure of Erling, who was now stood in front of her. “You going to stand out there all day?”

Grace felt her heart beat speed up, she was mentally preparing herself for the conversation she was about to have. She had spoken to Erling several times but today she was struggling to find the words.

“How’ve you been keeping?” Erling asked, he hadn’t spoken to Grace or Jadon since their monumental conversation a week ago.

“It’s been hard but I’m alright,” Grace softly smiled. “When you left, me and Jadon had a very long conversation. I cried, shouted and screamed at him until I had nothing left to say.”

“What was the outcome of the conversation?”

“We decided that it was best we go our separate ways, it was a tough decision but it was one we needed to make,” Ashley spoke. “But that’s not the only reason why I’m here, this is my final stop before I leave Dortmund.”

Erling’s heart stopped, just for a split second but that was long enough for his whole body to fill with sadness. He had only just got her back into his life and now she was leaving.

“Grace, you can’t leave, I’ve only just got you back!” Erling cried, he was struggling to believe what was going on. “You can stay with me, we can go back to the way we were. I can’t lose you again.”

“I can’t,” Grace sighed, several tears ran down her cheeks as her eyes stared at the photo frame in her hand. The photo bought back happy memories for her; it contained her best friend who was also the love of her life, the man who she had fallen completely in love with only for him to leave her. “I need to leave this place, I need to start thinking about myself.”

Erling moved closer towards Grace, their faces now a few millimetres apart. He slowly moved his lips onto hers, their mouths started to move in sync with each other. She took a few steps back until her body was now connected with the mattress on the bed. Her hands were now roaming around the blonde locks as his hands were carefully placed onto her hips.

“Gracie, I love you, please stay,” Erling pleaded, he was now sitting on the edge of the bed. “You will forever be my always.”

Grace stared into the eyes of the Norwegian for the last time, she couldn’t help but feel sad about the situation but she knew it was for the best.

“Something inside of me knows that I will never get over you, you are the unfinished chapter in my book of heartaches.”

a.n: and that is the end!! what do you think? did you like the ending? drop me a message about it!

but don’t worry it’s not over... the sequel ENDLESS LOVE is coming!

as always thank you for reading - kirsty x

[scripttorture]

Hi, how are you? I hope you're having a great day. If it's not too much to ask, I read the articles you linked about child soldiers, and they were very helpful, but not exactly what I'm looking for.. Do you happen to have links of first account stories or diaries of child soldiers? Two lead characters in my wip have been child soldiers in multiple wars in their country. (The setting is light fantasy, think non-European medieval times) (Child soldiers ask/1)

(Childsoldiers ask/2) Theyserved their country, and outside of war time, they received militaryeducation but were under significantly less pressure and stress, sowhile they never felt patriotic toward their country, they didn’tfind a reason to leave yet. That is until they turned 15-16 and wereforced to fight in the front field, where they saw the brutality oftheir own country by themselves, they tried to escape right then andthere, – (Child soldiers ask/3)–but were Captured by the enemy and spent a few weeks doing forcedlabor in an enclosed camp, before they were sold into slavery andbecame house slaves for a nobleman of their country’s enemies. Theymake friends with a slave there, who with a story of his own, hastried multiple times to escape but was always captured, punished(whipped), and forced to work right away. (Child soldiers ask/4)Theyfinally escape when the nobleman’s child bride kills him on the veryfirst night and joins them in a long escape out of the country,before they were rescued by the other slave’s friends. The storydoesn’t go too far in terms of time span, they don’t finish a year inslavery and then after that they help out (but don’t participate inbattle) in another war, before the story ends, maybe another 6months. (Child soldiers ask/6)Sowhile I have the elements of their rehabilitation into the peacefulcivilian life completed, I’d like more in-depth information about howthey would personally feel in that situation. The girl feels a lot ofshame for leaving her country, but has no wishes to return until theyfix the system, while the boy absolutely hates it and – (Childsoldiers ask/7)–onlyfeels resentment for it because of the abuse he suffered, but that’sonly after they learn what normal children their age should be doingand how they’re treated. Symptoms of anxiety and PTSD are prominentin their lives, but should I add more? And would the abuse the boysuffered from be counted as torture? I know this is long so thanks inadvance for your patience :) (Child soldiers ask/8)

-

I don’t think you will find the kind of in-depth first hand accounts you’re looking for without paying for them. That said there are books by former child soldiers that might fit.

 I’m not aware of any diaries, most of these books were written years or decades after the fighting stopped. On a basic level I’m not sure many children that young keep a regular diary and many adult diarists have found it impossible to keep one going through a war.

 This is a research book based on interviews with child soldiers that I’m ordering (M Wessel’s Child Soldiers: From Violence to Protection). This one is a first hand account, I Beah A Long Way Gone. There’s also E Jal’s War Child: A Child Soldier’s Story. Girl Soldier co authored by G Akallo and F J H McDonnell might also be useful, it draws heavily on Akallo’s experience as a child soldier. Child Soldier by C Keitetsi may also be useful.

 I have not read any of these first hand accounts. I find it… telling that all of the detailed first hand accounts I can find in English are by Africans. The difficulty finding accounts from European and Asian child soldiers may reflect a bias in the publishing industry, or simply one in the search engine I’m using.

 Searching for the Khmer Rogue, recent conflicts in the Balkans and memoirs from Poland during world war two will probably all bring up more memoirs from child soldiers. However those available for free may be shorter and vaguer, while more detailed memoirs may be untranslated.

 You can also find accounts by using Amnesty International’s search function. There are 171 results relating to child soldiers. I have not read all of them and Amnesty’s interviews tend to be on the short side but these do contain useful first hand accounts.

 In terms of whether the characters ‘count’ as survivors- I think it’s important to remember that we’re talking about a purely legal distinction and I think you could argue the case either way.

 The UN declaration against torture says that to be torture something must cause severe pain or suffering. But it explicitly says that need not be physical. Something that is intended to cause mental distress (desecration of corpses or religious sites, forcing Hindus to eat beef or Muslims to eat pork, etc) can be defined as torture.

 I think that the systematic exploitation and bullying of a child by armed forces could count under modern law.

 However there’s no indication in this that these soldiers have been ordered to bully this child or that they’re doing it for one of the four very well defined motivations the UN declaration outlines.

 But the argument about whether it meets the strict legal definition seems like a distraction from the real question here which seems to be: ‘how traumatising is this scenario? Is the symptom level appropriate?’

 I think it could be however it’s unclear to me whether the characters are both suffering from PTSD and anxiety or whether one has PTSD and the other anxiety.

 I don’t think it’s a good idea to give all the survivors in your story the same symptoms. There is variety in survivors in real life. If you’re writing multiple survivors in the same story then it’s important to try and reflect that variety.

 Two symptoms seems like a perfectly reasonable level for the girl to me. It could also work for the boy. But personally if I was writing this scenario and trying to put forward the idea that the boy has lived through more I would give him more symptoms as well. If you are trying to establish something as ‘worse’ in the narrative then you should be prepared to back that up with consequences for the characters.

 The slave character, who has been tortured and forced to work for a relatively long time, should definitely have more then two symptoms. I think something more in the range of 3-5 would be appropriate.

 I get the impression from the other asks you’ve sent that you tend to consistently underestimate symptoms.

 Try not to look at symptoms as flaws or limiting factors on your characters. They are not things that you have to struggle to reduce.

 Try instead to think of them as opportunities for you, the author.

 Disability and mental illness should not be an insurmountable barrier to the plot. Because it is not an insurmountable barrier in most people’s lives.

 These things do create difficulties and problems, often problems that are socially constructed. But people who live with disabilities and mental illness find ways around these problems every day. This necessary creative thinking is an addition to any story.

 If your character is in a wheelchair and the important plot device is up a flight of stairs then that shouldn’t mean the character can’t succeed. Instead it means they need a different, less obvious, way to get what they need.

 And the solution you choose tells readers more about the character. They might build a device that lets them glide right to the top or plant explosives around the foundations and bring the tower down or hire someone to carry them up. Each of those solutions tells you something about the character as a person.

 Symptoms are like that. They are narrative opportunities.

 Think about why you’ve chosen PTSD and anxiety. Think about which character they work best with. Think about what those symptoms add.

 And consider the other common symptoms and the common memory problems your characters could have. Use them to create varied survivors with different responses.

 I worry any time I see an author say their character ‘only feels’ a particular emotion. Because this is never true for people. And while authors often mean ‘this character feels that particular emotion a lot’ sometimes they mean it literally.

 A well-written character is not one emotional note, whether they’re a survivor or not.

 Resentment towards the adults who exploited and hurt him isn’t unreasonable. Shame about the atrocities she was forced to participated in isn’t unusual.

 Think about how to build on these starting points.

 If the girl feels ashamed about what she did how does she feel about the people she left behind? Does she think they’re immoral or does she feel sympathy for them and the way they’ve been manipulated?

 Does the boy primarily resent the people or what happened to him? Does he associate everyone from his country with what he endured? If so does he view the country that enslaved him differently? Does he see the girl he’s escape with as an exception or does his view of his country effect how he sees her?

 Even if these emotions are experienced more often these characters should feel more then one thing. Think about what might prompt other feelings.

 If the girl is trapped in a depressive spiral what could pull her out of it for a while? Anger or defensiveness on behalf of her friend? An odd incident that prompts a laugh? Awe or pride at the realisation of how much she’s already done? Because by escaping an active army and enslavement in a foreign country she has already achieved much more then most.

 Similarly what could puncture the boy’s rage? What would shock him? What would make him cry?

 Is he holding on to anger because he’s afraid of what he might be or feel without it?

 A lot of this boils down to standard writing advice for any character: they should feel like complete people.

 That doesn’t mean they can’t be flawed, or wrong or missing something important in their lives. It means that they need to feel ‘real’; as if they have dreams and fears and personalities that are possible.

 Writing survivors is more complicated but that doesn’t mean the usual approaches to character creation don’t apply. Personal history or traumatic events shouldn’t replace a character’s personality, wants or worries.

 And that can be hard to write. Because you’ve got to do all the same work you would for a non-traumatised character, then add another layer of work on top of that.

 In fact it’s more then that, because you have to merge all these things and make it look seamless, effortless for the reader.

 I emphasised a lot of the planning and thinking part of character creation here. And that is important.

 But if you’re struggling with your confidence or character creation generally there is no substitute for practice.

 Give yourself permission to experiment, to learn, to get things wrong. This is part of everyone’s writing process.

 So yes, think, plan, search for opportunities with things like symptoms. But also practice. Write short scenes or stories. Write multiple versions of the same scene. Try out writing the same character with different symptoms to figure out which you like best.

 I hope that helps. :)

Availableon Wordpress.

Disclaimer

[kenyel-kenyel]

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Thus far, we've looked at calories. And while calories are a crucial piece of the fat loss puzzle, they're in no way the only thing that matters. You see, when most people say they want to lose weight, they actually strive to improve their health and look better.

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[3w-writer-with-wings]

1, 5, 6, 10, 17, 19, 22, 23, and 34 for the yugioh meme?

1)  Favourite Yu-Gi-Oh! series

This is like asking me which out of my six children should survive while the other five die XD. I love all the series since they all have both pros and cons, and they all have interesting characters and stories, but I guess ARC V will always have a special place in my heart since it got me back in Yugioh fandom (I stopped after 5Ds for a while several years ago). VRAINS is currently my favourite series plotwise since it continues to surprise me and keeps me hyped every single week.

5)  Favourite opening/ending

For the opening, it’s a tie between second and fifth ARC V opening. “Burn” has an incredibly upbeat melody that makes me smile every time I listen to it. “Light of Hope” on the other hand tells a story of how there is despair but smiles will be there to make it go away. I’m rather torn between choosing either of them since they are both really nice endings. As for ending - “Close to You”, 4th ending from 5Ds. I first started watching 5Ds in English dub but once I caught up with it, I was too curious what is going to happen next so I started watching Japanese dub from that point on and that was probably the smartest decision ever. I got to see “Close to You” not only as the first Yugioh Japanese ending but the very first anime ending ever. I loved every single moment of it, of all the characters just chilling around the city, then meeting up, watching the sunrise and then riding D-Wheels with their dragons! It is an ending that is beyond perfect and really emphasises the bonds and friendship between all Signers. 

6)  Favourite character

If you had asked me this question before Takeru showed up, I would’ve probably blurted out the names of several characters and say how I love them all, but Takeru is a special case. You see, he is a character that I loved before he even officially appeared XD. I’m following the news, cast lists and summaries, so when Takeru showed up for the first time in an anime magazine (like a month before his official anime appearance), I fell in love with everything about him. Both his human self and avatar had all the right colours and designs that fit his personality well, his backstory was intriguing, I was already looking forward to seeing another Lost Child and out of all possible voices, he got to be voiced by one and only Kaji Yuuki (who is among my Top 3 anime voice actors!). Then he showed up in the new opening and ending and him being friendly and cosy with Yusaku was just plain adorable! I had no idea what his role was going to be but from that point it was clear - Yusaku is getting a new friend! And was his entrance perfect - lightning, fire tornado and then him! 10/10 Burner of Souls! Not only was he righteously hyped up, but he also continues to be amazing and I have a feeling his character will get even more development!    

10)  Favourite Duel Monster

It’s hard to pick a single monster, but I love every single card in Johan’s deck aka. Crystal/Gem Beast archetype. The designs are simple but so well executed and out of all of them, it’s hard to pick just one. I love their story, the legend and just the fact how much they all care about Johan, trying to reach out to him when Yubel possessed him. A big plus is also the fact how much personality they all have and they are always there to help up Johan.

17)  Have you ever cried over YGO and why?

You should’ve rather ask me when I didn’t lol. But yeah in every spinoff there was a moment that I actually cried. In original series there were two moments, when Yugi duelled Atem in the fourth season, letting him defeat him and then fading away in his arms and the Ceremonial duel when Yugi stumbled on his knees and cried, I cried with him cuz I also didn’t want Atem to go. Then in GX, it was basically whenever Judai would show vulnerability, cuz really, I hated his guts and his goofy overpowered persona. But then when he lost Johan, when he was afraid of Yubel, when he succumbed to the power of Supreme King and the entire season 4 when he was battling with depression - to see someone so cheerful becoming a mere shell of himself was so darn sad. 5Ds started darker but nothing could prepare me for two scenes, Yusei nearly dying, being afraid to duel and then watching his friend die in his arms and then losing another friend for real (Bruno! :’( ). Zexal made me cry a weird mixture of happy and sad tears whenever Yuma and Astral did something. When Astral sacrificed himself for Yuma I don’t know when I cried more - when Yuma watched Astral die or Yuma suffering from major depression for the next few episodes. But that scene when he got reunited with Astral was that more powerful because of it and their relationship is truly the purest of them all. ARC V, spinoff all about smiles was probably one of the saddest series, not just because of many sad moments throughout the whole thing aka. Yuto dying in Yuya’s arms for real, Yugo losing Rin, Yuya losing Yuzu, the fate of other Bracelet Girls and Yu-Boys and the overall ending, but also how inconclusive the ending felt. I kinda get the point was to show the realism of war, how not everyone can get a happy ending but it could still be executed better. Then there’s VRAINS…. *sighs* where do I even start with this….

VRAINS truly took the plotline seriously and doesn’t seem like it’s going to back down. It is like the writing staff put together a medley of the saddest moments in Yu-Gi-Oh! and were like, “Let’s make it sadder!”. From the fact that mere six-year-old children were tortured so badly, that Ryoken was so messed up by his father, that all Lost Children are still suffering in one way or another, that SOL practically killed a living being and all the drama that it’s going on between Yusaku and Kusanagi right now. Last week’s episode had me nearly tear up and for tomorrow I will most definitely cry. It’s just so painful to see someone so desperate to save their own family, to attack someone they were all set to protect just a few episodes ago… And VRAINS isn’t even over yet. I thought nothing could top Earth’s death scene, but from the looks of it, tomorrow will be getting a dose of the most painful feels.

19)  Least favourite series

It’s a tie between GX and the first series if I had to choose one. GX has a rather monotone first half when there is some stuff going on, but it’s really episodic and easily forgotten. While there were some interesting episodes, the rest was just one giant filler that tried to deliver too much nostalgia from the first series instead of developing on its own. And speaking of the first series - I know the card game wasn’t as developed at the time so tons of duels made absolutely no sense. Then it was only Yugi, Kaiba and Joey having the development and extremely long duels that were starting to feel off and annoying to watch. But overall - I know that was the very first series and the spinoff, so it was obvious it wouldn’t be perfect. What I truly love about Yu-Gi-Oh! is that it’s a franchise that continues to grow with every single spin-off, even if they’re becoming less relevant they are still getting stronger storywise.

22)  Least favourite character

This little brat is a perfect representation of how to create the most annoying character. Everything about him screams “annoying, useless and awful”. It would be completely fine if he was an episodic villain, but noooo for some reason writing staff was like, “hey let’s make this dude into Yuma’s friend”. I get it, Yuma can make friends easily, but for the love of God, why him?! Yuma has enough friends already, why bring this brat into his group? Tokunosuke has literally no purpose to be here but to cause trouble or be a plot device to bring Yuma trouble. Okay, I was fine with that one time that he got Yuma into trouble and Yuma still forgave him, but why the hell did they have a need to repeat that three more times? I feel the same way about Kotori - she has no basic purpose but to be moral support or act as a damsel in distress.ZEXAL had way too many characters and out of them all, they picked the most useless ones for major roles. 

23)  NOTP

Canon datastormshipping. I think I made it clear why I dislike it in two posts already, but I guess I could sum it up for the third time. In canon verse they are two unstable people who bring out the worst of each other. They rarely interact, their ideologies are vastly different and they are in a way obsessed with each other in a very unhealthy way. If the two of them dated it would most likely result in a very toxic relationship which would only worsen up their already broken mental states. Again, I greatly dislike this ship in canon verse (in anime up to episode 92) and my opinion could change by the end of VRAINS. I still like the fanfics and fanarts that depict “what if” scenarios where their relationship could work (I’m actually writing one at the moment and I have plans to write one where I focus on their relationship in detail), but canon shipping just feels off and dysfunctional.

34)  If you met Kazuki Takahashi, what would you say to him?

First of all, I would thank him for coming up with those amazing characters and plotlines. I still love the original manga and season 0 the most since it had so much creativity with different games, but I can see it keep getting included more with new summoning methods and unique stories. Then I would most likely present him my idea for the 7th series and its protagonist. From the start of the series, there wasn’t much about card game production or who designs them. We got some info on how Pegasus discovered Millenium Items and the tablet with Egyptian Gods and in GX it showed Hayato working as a card game designer. I would love to see a protagonist who loves games just like Yugi and wishes to create more, so he strives to become the best card game designer. He is not that keen on playing the game since he prefers to make the cards more, but when he creates a particular card(kinda like how Takato created Guilmon in Digimon Tamers) he is pulled into an adventure where he must find other cards that contain powerful Duel Monsters spirits and he has to lock them back into their cards. I would also love to have a protagonist that can talk with spirits again since while Judai had adorable interactions with Winged Kuriboh and Neo Spacians, it was still largely brushed aside and not that much explored. So yeah please make the next protagonist into a card game designer, it will be unique and open to so many interesting plotlines and potentials. 

[werevulvi]

I... probably should have known this would happen to some degree or another, but somehow I wasn't prepared. I think I've lost 2, if not more, friends. Both trans. Obviously due to my views on trans stuff having changed, and me daring to be vocal about it. Like what else...

One of them still interacts indirectly with me on facebook by liking some of my comments/posts, but he has seemingly stopped speaking to me, since about a month ago. I've only met him online, since about a year or so ago.

The other one... well he's the trans guy I had such a huge crush on for several years but he didn't reciprocate my feelings, and we even thought of each other as pretty much best friends for a couple of years, then drifted apart a bit but kept in some kind of contact. Until I broke up with my ex Y. I know that Y (whom I broke contact with cause the relationship went bad for us both) most certainly warned my friend about me being a "toxic" person, and unfairly so.

Since then he hasn't said a single word to me, or even acknowledged when I've made friendly comments on his posts, etc. And I just now noticed he has blocked me here on tumblr and unfriended me on facebook. Without a word. We were friends for over 10 years, maybe 12. It does hurt, but I do understand. No reason for me to be mad at him about it or try to contact him. It's his choice. And most likely because of what I've posted and reblogged here recently, which I know is entirely on me. But it's just hard to see that friendship die like that.

Cause these past few weeks or so, I've been suspecting more than usually that my best friend has abandoned me just the same as well. Like I felt the last few gasps of our friendship dying, and I've panicked. She always sends me a text message for Christmas. She didn't this time. I could have sent her one, but then I couldn't. My heart sank too much. Her birthday is tomorrow, as she turns 30, and I can't decide if I should force myself to send her a hopeless "happy birthday" message or not, still desperately holding on to a dying breath.

I've been thinking about writing her a letter, by hand or something. To tell her that I never wanted to lose her as a friend, but that I've felt it was coming to this for a long time, and that I'd accept it if she wants to move on, but can't pretend it doesn't hurt. If only I had her new adress... or her email. I do have her parents' adress though. Worst case scenario I could go via them, and ask them for her adress. I was always on good terms with her mother. She'd know it's not something I've done wrong, to cause me to drift apart from my life-long friendship with her daughter. Or I could just write the letter to have for myself if I can't figure out where to send it.

I'm pretty sure she unfollowed me on facebook sometime around spring last year, when I completely stopped getting any sort of notifications from her. I used to check her profile page every once in a while, maybe once or twice a month, cause my feed was getting too cluttered and she didn't post often, so I kept missing them. Her posts were mostly just about her kid which I couldn't relate to, so I mostly just gave it a "like" or "love" but didn't say anything, cause I just had nothing to say. I checked again just now cause had forgotten for a few weeks... but her facebook page is gone. She never told me. I dunno what's going on. She's had that account for as long as I've had mine... 9 years, and never even went inactive before. But now it appears her account has been deleted. You don't just do that for no reason, right?

Her husband is still on facebook and on my friend list, but I think he unfollowed me too, cause I haven't gotten any response from him for a really long time either. I used to be close friends with him too, since before they got together some 8 years ago. Last I ever heard from either of them was an invitation to a party, in the city they live in, back in November. I didn't go, cause I was in a terrible mental state due to my detrans-tragedy and couldn't handle traveling so far with flights and all. They didn't say anything to me, it was just a plain fb invitation, no explanation or anything. I thought it was odd and it gave a bad gut feeling. Not that long ago, but the next last thing I ever heard from them was when I texted her about my detransitioning, back in July, and she just stopped texting me back after a couple of days, without notice, which upset me. Before then... I don't remember.

I guess our friendship wasn't worth more than that to her. I guess I was right after all. That her boyfriend, then later husband and then her kid all just mattered a million times more than I ever did to her. I was the first person she ever knew except from her parents, when we were 2 years old and met in kindergarten, and instantly liked each other. We were classmates from grade 0 to 9th grade. She had a few other best friends until we really connected at age 12. I was never into her romantically or sexually (despite my gayness and her beauty), and she's super straight, but we did get a lesbian reputation in late elementary school, cause we were always so close. Losing her does break my heart, but why can't I even pick up the phone to text or call her?

I lost her the moment I moved to this island 6 years ago, cause I had noticed she seemed to care less about me a year earlier, and I think me moving halfway across the country was the death blow... and I never managed to rebuild my life since then, while her's flourished. Am I jealous? Well of course.

Early in life, we basically had the same potential... then we both had some issues with mental health, but she found love, got a job, got married, got a kid, bought a house, lives in the city we both always loved... whereas I got too fucking traumatised, wasted my 20's getting a sex change I then regretted, moved to an island I also regretted and can't move back, ended up in a series of shitty relationship with men until discovering I'm a lesbian, I'm single again, living on sickness compensation in a place I hate, with my anger issues, tragedies and inability to function well enough to even get a cat. How different life can turn out for two people, even though we were always so similar in personality, behaviour, humour, interests, lifestyle, the life goals we had, and even in our looks. I think about that sometimes, and how much I struggle to be happy for her. I guess I just got the short straw.

But even though I'm jealous that life went so much better for her, at least I still always cared about her as a person and the friendship we had. At least she always remained in my mind and in my heart. For recent years I've kept imagining I held onto her by my pinky finger, but my grip kept slipping by the day, as we drifted apart more and more. I think our bond is now broken. She let go of my pinky finger. That hurts more than I can let myself feel right now. How long were we best friends for? If I count up until today... then it was 17 years. And how long have we known each other as friends for? 28 years. It's a 28 years long friendship in our 30 years long lives. How she can just shake that off and move on, I don't understand.

The physical distance shouldn't matter... but it was what made her take distance from me, little by little. Like slowly pulling off a band aid. I should have been there with you when you got married. I wasn't. I should have been there with you when you got your daughter. I wasn't. I'm sorry I failed you, but you failed me too. Soulmate sister... may our past friendship rest in peace. I will remember you.

Every single memory I have of her flashing before my eyes. My entire body hurts. I feel nauseous. I can't process this, I don't want to feel this.

Correction, I've lost 3 friends.

[hecallsmehischild]

Mental Org/Untangling Spaghetti

Can’t sleep. Therefore, untangling thoughts keeping me up.

HOLY FREAKING CRAP HELLBENT. Hellbent smashed a bunch of headcanons about Shiromori for sure and Artie’s face haunts me. Feel like I need to write a companion chapter for a nightmare about this scenario just to touch on it. This series has given me so many feels and so much writing fuel it’s nuts given how SHORT the actual canon content is. Also? It felt really. Really good to go full on screaming geek. It’s been too long since I actually lost my marbles over a piece of media and it felt nice to be that enthusiastic.

That’s not the main thing keeping me up though. I’m about to plunge into Wedding Madness Month (TM).

Tuesday I fly to the east coast to meet Mom and go on one last tour with her, hanging out and assisting her in concerts. It’s going to be nice. The following Tuesday we both fly back to Los Angeles where I begin wedding preparation, putting together the decor and fine tuning stuff I’ve been working on the last few months and hoping it doesn’t all blow up (yes, let go they say, let go, I don’t really know how to do that very well). While down there I’ll be having different reconnect sessions with several people, which I’m both excited and anxious about all around. One can be anxious about good things, right? Because I am.

During all this time, for about two weeks, I won’t be with my fiance which feels... wrong and weird and very very sad. Even though I know this is just a lead in to our wedding, it just... it feels WRONG on all levels not to be near him. I haven’t even left yet and I’m scared of missing him for two weeks.

He’ll fly in to LA on Halloween, at which point we’ll be back together but I’m still in full bore wedding madness kicked into high gear. Actual decorating will happen. Mass cookie baking and lemonade making will occur (cookies instead of cake). There’s a rehearsal + rehearsal dinner where our families meet for the first time that has to be timed right, plus pick up of all Houstonians from the airport on the different days they arrive. Wedding Nov 3, Then all Houstonians fly home the next day. Nerves and worries pester me, even though I know my family will take care of clean up (to quote my Dad, “Over my dead body are you doing the cleanup” when I offered) I freak out about if that’s really okay that I just leave everything as-is for them to deal with.

I just did most of my packing tonight. One less thing to do tomorrow while I’m amped out about leaving. Usually when I hit the airport, “Adult Dusty” takes over and I’m fine and not freaking out, but RIGHT UP UNTIL THE AIRPORT I’m usually anx central.

Also I’m kind of starting to get mad at how long it’s taking for me to get the surgery I wanted to get. At this point it’s unavoidable that it happens sometime after the wedding, but why? Why is it that hard to get the psychiatrist to send his notes to my therapist, who will write a letter to my women’s doctor? And why did I need to go on this goose chase in the first place? I know why, but by the time I got to the psychiatrist, he said it shouldn’t have been a problem in the first place, that my diagnosis has no bearing on such a decision, and I’m like.... 

Freaking out about the people I know are upset I didn’t invite them to my super small very private wedding. Not freaking out, actually, kind of mad and resentful that it’s even an issue, and not sure I wouldn’t lash out if it’s brought up one more time.

Already angsting out about what next year may look like, will I be going around to see different clusters of people we know in different parts of the country with Sergey? Partly, that would be really cool. Partly? I kind of want to also just stay home with him because even good environment changes can be stressful. Also social calculus sucks.

What if I get to LA and I haven’t packed a thing I need.

WHAT IF I GET TO LA AND SOMEHOW I HAVE MISPLACED MY DRESS.

I’m afraid one of my friends may kill herself soon. It is sufficiently complicated enough that there’s not much I can do beyond what I’m already doing.

Mom has cataracts and will be doing the driving. She says she’s still okay to drive. I trust her. I have to, now. My Benign Positional Vertigo is rearing its head again and I’m dizzy lying down and getting up from a lie down position, and the idea of driving in Boston and NY freaks me the crap out, from all Mom’s stories.

What if I wreck my face and eyelashes through picking/pulling before the wedding?

What if I can’t sleep the night before and I’m dragging through the whole day?

hnnnnnnngh

[nursememoirs]

Synopsis

This is the first blog post I have ever written. And quite frankly, I thought I would have a lot to say (since I’m pretty much always talking in real life).

But here I am, rolling my eyes, sighing, and deleting everything I typed up.

Until now.

For my first post, I would like to give you a synopsis of the last 5 years.

I have been an ICU RN for 5 years now. I can still remember walking across the stage at graduation, hearing mine and my friend’s names announced to receive our diplomas. We had endured Nursing school together; we did the damn thing. Now we were being released into the world to go save some lives, only work 3 days a week, and enjoy life without exams, clinical, or late night study sessions.

Except that never happened.

Little did I know the next 5 years would bring more tears, heartbreak, joy, and excitement than Nursing school. I would be put through tests that were far more difficult and complex in comparison to the age-old “choose the most correct answer” scenario I had seen in previous exams. I would be in circumstances that Nursing school could have never prepared me for, ones that probably the rest of the world could not fathom. What I read in textbooks, PowerPoint notes and prep courses prepared me well for the NCLEX. Everything else after that, I depended on the love and support of my family and coworkers to get me through. I depended on physicians, respiratory therapists, and experienced nurses to not only guide me through the hard days at work, but also passing along their words of wisdom to me.

Over the next 5 years, I would experience more growth than I had ever thought to do in my life. The first year I was out of Nursing school, I began working in the ICU at a Level One Trauma Center. Out of the frying pan, into the fire. The second year I finally (kinda) knew what I was doing, and could manage incredibly sick patients independently or with some assistance. By the third year, I was getting a little tired of the same old routine I found myself in while working night shift, so I switched to day shift. By the fourth year, the pandemic was just warming up in China as we welcomed the New Year, naively believing it would probably never reach the U.S. Even if it did, it probably wouldn’t be as bad as what the media was making it out to be.

But by year five, I found myself emotionally spent, burned out by ever changing guidelines and arguments about the severity of this new virus, the world shutting down, and living with chronic fear of the next COVID surge.

They say that it takes a village to raise a child, to support us throughout our lives and help us emotionally and mentally grow. What happens when your village is disappearing before your eyes, and there is no one there to help fill the roles you so desperately need to keep you going?