#BUT ALSO THIS IS KINDA TARGETED AT MYSELF (not the complimenting part)

[luvuwite]

i think it's so hilarious how artists will sometimes animate the most juiciest and flowy frames i've ever seen and then never do it again

[brenwritesss]

Tru Fru part 2

Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: Paige invites you over to her dorm, allowing the two of you to get to know each other.

(If you want an alternate smut version, let me know! Or if you want a part 3)

(Also sorry for the real late upload, I ended up rotting in bed all day yesterday and never finished the ending to this part)

You stood in front of her door for five minutes, contemplating whether or not you should even be here right now. You had just met this girl twenty minutes ago and she didn’t even second guess having you over at her place. Should that have been a red flag? 

You don’t even know what the two of you would be doing once you were inside. What was there to talk about? Considering you didn’t even know who she was, you doubt there would be much in common. You put your keys into your pocket, allowing you to knock on her door after almost running back down the hall and back into your car. 

You heard someone stumble on the other side of the door, a few voices rising to the surface. You were unaware that she had roommates. You stood there quietly, taking in your last few seconds before the door opened. A girl who wasn’t Paige and was taller than you, looked at you confused. “Hi?”

“Hi, uh Paige invited me over. Is this the right dorm?” You looked back at your phone making sure the room number she gave you matched the room you were at right now. And there were no mistakes.

Her confusion turned into smiles when she said, “Oh, you’re the Tru Fru stealer.”

“Excuse me?”

She broke out into laughter. “Yeah, you kinda dirty for that, not gonna lie.”

You shook your head. “I didn’t steal anything, it’s her fault for not getting there sooner and taking it.”

“And you right,” she moved away from the entrance, allowing you to walk inside. “I’m KK, by the way.”

You smiled at her, turning towards her. “Y/n. I’m assuming you’re on the basketball team too?”

“And a Tru Fru lover. So I better not be seeing you in any Target taking the last bag,” she said in a tone that let you know she was joking.

“So who’s better? You or Paige?”

“Girl, me for real. Trust.” There was something about KK that instantly brightened your mood. You didn’t know how to explain it. 

“Yo KK, down to join me in a new round?” Another girl walked out of a room towards your left. She was wearing a hoodie just like KK, her braids coming down to cover the top of the letters. She held a video game controller as she stopped when she saw you in the middle of their living room.

You gave her a small wave, smiling shyly. “I’m Y/n.”

“You’re Y/n? I’m Ice. Girl you are gorgeous,” she said, complimenting you.

A blush tinted your cheeks and you let out a small laugh, “thank you, that’s so nice. You are so pretty.”

She flipped her hair back with her hand. “Thanks girl.”

“Ay, what y’all doin out here,” Paige’s voice echoed through a small hallway, stopping short when she sees you standing next to KK. Her arms going behind her back, she smiled at you, “I didn’t know if you would actually stop by.”

You shrugged. “It’s not like I had anything better to do,” you joked. “And this bag is too big to keep to myself.” You held up the Tru Fru bag that you two fought over.

Both KK and Ice snickered, obviously knowing what had happened at Target. “You still want to pay up?” You threw her the bag, Paige catching it with ease.

She looked you up and down and that familiar feeling you had felt back in Target resurfaced. Paige was still in that Tru Fru sweatshirt and UConn sweatpants that you had met her in. That hoodie is about to be mine, you thought to yourself.

“Nah, I like having your number more,” she said, making the butterflies in your stomach multiply. 

Ice made a sound, making everyone turn towards her. “Okay Paige coming in with the rizz.”

“Shut the hell up,” Paige scolded, lightly smacking her arm with her free hand.

KK pulled out her phone, “Yo, we finna call Nika and Azzi and show them your mad flirting skills.”

Paige rolled her eyes while you laughed, having no clue who Azzi and Nika were but you assumed they were more of Paige’s teammates. Paige walks towards you, eyes on KK. “You’re not gonna call them and we are gonna go chill in my room.”

Paige grabbed your hand and the action surprised you. Ice gave you and Paige a look that screamed ‘what the fuck’ while KK just continued laughing, typing in her phone.

Paige led you into her room, which was bare compared to yours. Her bed was fit into the corner, a bright purple comforter atop that you just wanted to snuggle into. Her dresser was directly across, a TV and a playstation decorating the top of the dresser. Next to her bed was a nightstand holding a pile of books.

You stood in the middle of the room, not really knowing what to do. “Nice room.”

“Thanks,” she said, more of a whisper. After closing the door behind her, she leaned against it. “Sorry about my teammates, they’re joking.”

“Oh I don’t mind,” you assured her, “my roommate is the same way, so I get it.”

She smiled at you and pointed toward her bed. “You’re chill to sit down.”

“Thanks,” you smiled back and took a seat on her bed. You couldn’t lie, this was incredibly awkward as you both didn’t know what to say. 

Paige sat down next to you, looking at you while opening the Tru Fru bag. “So, what’s your major?”

“Biology. What about you?”

“Oh shit,” she said. “Biology’s cool. I’m majoring in human development, family studies. But I plan to go pro in the league after I graduate.” 

You admired her determination in her answer. Even after only knowing her for an extremely short amount of time, you could tell she was very passionate about basketball. Just like how you were with biology. How you both were willing to do anything to achieve your goals in your careers.

“How long have you been playing?”

Paige adjusted her seating, turning more towards you. And closer to you. “Since I was a kid. You have no idea how many photos my mom has of me in basketball jerseys when I was like seven years old.”

“I don’t think I could ever play a sport like basketball. But hockey,” you continued, “that’s where it’s at.”

Paige raised her eyebrows, your comment earning a chuckle from her. “Really? Hockey?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s a hot sport to play.”

“So is basketball not hot?” she asked, popping a piece of Tru Fru into her mouth.

You reached into the bag, grabbing a handful and moving your legs up onto her bed so that your whole body was now on her bed. “It’s hit or miss.”

“Watch me play then that’ll change your mind,” she winked, earning a laugh from you.

“You inviting me to your game?”

“Obviously.”

You both stayed there for a while, eating the fruit. You could feel the tension between you two so you took to looking around her room while you could feel her eyes on you, examining every part of you. “So do you play hockey?” Paige asked you.

You shook your head. “I wish.”

“You should,” she said as she leaned towards you. Only a few centimeters toward your ear she whispered, “since it’s a hot sport, you’ll fit right in.”

“Well now I have to play,” you whispered back.

Still close to your face, her eyes lingered on your lips then back up to your eyes. “So what do you think?”

“Of?”

“Tru Fru.” She holds the bag in between your faces. You grab it from her, eating some. “It’s actually better than I thought it would be. I can see why you’re so obsessed with it.”

“I’m not obsessed.”

“Explain the merch then,” you said, pointing to her sweatshirt.

“Playing college basketball has its perks,” she whispered once more and gently grabbed your hand. You had a Tru Fru piece in between your fingers that you were about to eat. Paige guided your hand toward her mouth, her lips tickling your fingers as she took the piece from your hand. “Like getting a pretty girl’s number.”

Every part of you melted when she did that with your hand. “You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that to make me fold.” That was a lie, you were folding right about now.

“Deal.”

There were a few voices outside Paige’s door but the two of you drowned out the sound with the growing tension between the two of you. You smiled at her, biting your lip in the process. Paige’s hand was still wrapped around yours when KK barged into the room.

“Hey Paige, the live wants to say-oh shit,” KK yelled, turning the phone away.

“KK, what the fuck,” Paige shouts, moving away from you in an instant. Ice came in, taking the phone from KK and going into another room.

KK ran up to the two of you. “Y’all I’m so sorry, I thought y’all were chillin’ playing video games or something, not making out.”

You set down the Tru Fru bag. “We weren’t making out. We were talking about hockey.”

Paige looked at you then back at KK. “Why would you go live right now? You do realize they just got a full view of her right?”

“What?” you asked, confused as to what they were talking about.

“Bro, I’m sorry. You know I wouldn’t do it on purpose.” KK looked scared almost. Not at Paige, but of what happened. Or what was going to happen.

You stood up, backing away from Paige and KK. “Can you guys tell me what’s going on?”

Paige itched the back of her neck, scrunching up her nose. “KK was live on instagram and she walked in with the camera pointed at us.”

You shrugged. “That’s not bad. Only a few people were on the live right?”

KK gave you an anxious look. “No yeah, it was only a few,” she trailed off, “thousand.”

You swear your eyes could have popped out from your skull with how wide they grew. “I’m sorry, what?”

KK continued apologizing, “I’m so sorry Y/n, but a few thousand people just saw what looked like you and Paige kissing on live.”

"I'm assuming that's really bad then?" you asked.

Paige walked over to you, looking you in the eyes when she says, "I'll make this up to you with all the Tru Fru you want because this is about to be trending on social media for a bit."

[spidernuggets]

this is so tropey and cliché yet I cannot help but adore it sooo a calm chill peace n love pacifist type of gal who only uses computer skills/detective skills/whatnot for the titans but never violence. that is until some asshat takes jason hostage and reader to the sheer shock of everyone goes deathstroke level violent, demolishes everything, sneaks out alone to single handedly rescue jason whilst the titans are still tryna figure out a plan, and jason wakes up back in titans tower to find out that it wasn't a team effort to get him back, that reader did it all alone and killed the people who took him, jason is maybe a lil shit and is all thanks but I had the situation under control, and then he asks why she cares so much and she's like I don't but if they killed you I would kill everyone in this room and then myself 😊 👉👈

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Note: I'M SO SORRY IT'S TAKING SO LONG TO GET THIS OUT, BABES!!! I'M IN MY FINAL YEAR OF SCHOOL, AND I HAVE EXAMS LIKE EVERY WEEK REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS CRIES. ALSO, the first part of this fic is kinda based on Jason and Gar's little moment before they go down to the subways.

"What are you doing now, nerd?" Jason walks into the computer room where yoh sat in front of the downgraded version of the Bat Computer. He leans against the edge, budging your leg with his to get your attention.

"That name is hypocritical, theatre nerd," you bite back.

"Holy shit, they're thespians, not theatre nerds."

"Same difference. Anyways, if you must know, Arkham Asylum's system broke down. Dick asked me to help them fix it. It's fine now, but a bunch of crims broke out. Some are back in, but a few handfuls are still out there. No one above Riddler level. We'll be fine," you say, leaning back on the chair, hands resting behind your head.

"Need any help, babe?" He asks.

You'd be a pathological liar if you said all the nicknames he gave you didn't make your face heat up. You always liked Jason. He has the smart potential that everybody else seems to refuse to see. But you appreciate it.

You shrug. "I dunno. You can if you want, I'm just trying to find where these criminals would be next. But it just looks like they're breaking in and stealing shit from wherever. They pick one building and then move on to a whole different area," you frown, unable to find a pattern.

Jason squints at the big screen. "Hey, zoom into that street over there," he points to the corner of the city's map. You furrow your brows, but oblige. "They're not targeting random buildings, sweet thing," he mutters.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Look. See those buildings there? They already have past records of breaking and entering, and robbery. These Arkham crims are targeting untouched places." Jason says, observing the area.

You then go on your own computer, searching the history of crime through Gotham. Sure, the majority of residents were witnesses or victims to these crimes, but there's still places that have been safe for a good while.

"Hey, all these buildings. I know them." He adds. "Bruce enforced higher security. They're aiming for Wayne Enterprise sponsored buildings!"

"How did I miss that?" You whisper to yourself. "Fuck, Jason, your a bloody genius." You missed the whiplash he got, looking at you in awe for such a simple compliment. "Alright, let me just go mark these locations and I'll go and let Dick know."

"Woah, woah," Jason holds your shoulder. "He doesn't need to know. He's already so busy. I'll handle them. You said it yourself, 'we'll be fine'." He says proudly.

You sighed. "Jay, I know you'd be fine. What's not fine is knowing for a fact that you'd show no mercy and probably make all of them bite the curb." You crossed your arms, folding one leg over your other.

"Ugh, c'mon, Y/n. I promise I won't, and I promise I'll be safe. Dick and the other guys need to know that I can do shit on my own!" He starts to beg. You always knew how important Robin is to him. You were actually impressed about how passionate he was to a mask.

You sighed again, staring at the floor while thinking. "Fine. But you need to be wired. At least be in contact with me. The moment you get into trouble, you call me, I'll get the others to help."

"Why don't you just come out with me? I know you git them badass combat skills?" Then, Jason gives you those eyes for when he asks you for something, and shamefully, you always give in. Not this time.

"Jay, you know why. Even just giving someone a oetty slap just doesn't do it for me."

"Yeah, yeah I know. But if you're ready to throw a punch, make sure I'm there to see," Jason winks as he's about to leave to suit up. But you call out to him.

"Jason." He turns. "You don't need to prove yourself to anyone. Not to me at least," you gave him a sympathetic look. Jason just gives a slight nod in return before turning again and leaving to get ready.

"You sent Jason out there?!" Dick storms into your room without knocking.

You were sat on your bed, holding your hands up. "Woah, man, I could've been changing or something," you say nonchalantly. "Jason will be fine, Dick. He is capable enough of defending himself. Besides, I have him wired, so if he needs help, he can contact me." You say, eyes focused on the laptop placed on your legs.

"Okay, genius, then why did Hank inform me just now that Jason's unresponsive and that his tracker has been disconnected!" Dick yells at you. You stop typing.

"I'm sorry," you choke out a sarcastic laugh, getting off your bed, walking out of your room, Dick following suit. "What? It sounds like you're saying someone cut off all connections that Jason has to us," you said, hoping that you heard wrong or that it was some lame, insensitve prank. You walk into the debriefing room, where the other Titans were. And to prove what Dick said was true, the screens showed that there were no signs of Jason, his tracker, or his wire.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Dick replies sternly. "Jason's gone missing, possibly kidnapped. Why didn't you tell me he was going out?! Why didn't you tell us?"

Hank chimes in. "Yeah, kid. You know how reckless Jason can be-"

You chucked your laptop to the wall, completely smashing it, the screen chipping everywhere, and the keys scattering across the floor. It instantly made the room dead silent.

You stayed silent, too. You said nothing, giving the others no explanation to your sudden, quiet outburst, and headed back to your room.

From behind you can hear Dick sigh, and preoare everyone to find Jason.

You had other plans.

You didn't know where Jason could be. But from the tracker, you can pinpoint his last known location. Not that you told Dick or even Bruce, but you managed to connect your smartwatch to Jason's tracker. No, you are not a stalker... is what you always repeated to yourself. You just wanted to be the first one to always be sure that your spontaneous friend is okay. And look at what good it's doing.

Opening your closet, deep in the back, situated your throwing knives and flame thrower.

"Come to mama," you whispered. Sure, the use of violence is more or less a disturbance to you. But these assholes have your friend hostage. And you know that if you stay with the others, they'd slow you down.

You packed a backpack with everything you think you'd need, and you climbed out your window and ran to where Jason was seen last. You didn't have a hero suit of your own, seeing as you refused to kick ass with the others. Oh, well, you thought. A face mask would do you good.

You ended up in the outskirts of the city. There was no noise, and no Jason. But there was blood. Possibly his.

Unfortunately, there were only splatters and no trails that could guide you.

"Well, aren't you a pretty little thing?" A deeo, raspy voice said behind you.

You turn around and tilted your head. "Hello. I'm lookin' for a friend. About yay high, black domino mask, Christmas coloured superhero suit with an R on the left breast of the chest plate. Goes by the name Robin. You seen him anywhere?" You politely ask.

The gruffy man hummed. "Hmm. Show me what you're made of little lady, and I might spill a secret or two," he disgustingly smirks.

You shrug. "Since you asked so nicely." Swiftly, you threw a knife at him, slicing right through his shoulder as the man howls in agony.

"YOU BITCH," he screams.

You slowly walk up to him, and right as he tries to throw a punch, you dug, slicing his leg with another one of your knives, making him tumble to the concrete.

As he lays on his back, you tower over him, your foot resting on top of the knife that was impaled through his shoulder, making him cry out in pain.

"Now you listen to me, pretty little thing," you smile, mocming him. "After this, you're going to live. Because the sight of a dead body makes me gag. But the catch is," You reach for your flamethrower from your back, pointing it to the man's crotch as he whimpers in fear. "You're gonna be walkin' around with a fried dick. So what's it gonna be? Giving me a location? Or giving yourself a grilled sausage?"

You blink twice before he yells and reveals where Jason is. "Thank you so much, sweetie," you smiled, moving the flamethrower away and your foot lifting off the knife, turning to go find your friend.

He sighs out in relief, but you then turn back around. Saying nothing else, you point the flamethrower at his face, setting it off, letting the flames char his skin.

You hide behind crates in a dimly lit, abandoned warehouse, trying to search for Jason. You then go into a different room, and upon going in, you see a figure tied up in a chair, mouth covered in a dirty rag and a blindfold over his eyes.

My poor- shit. I mean. Poor Jason. You think.

The room was empty. It's an opportunity for you to help him. You cut the ropes, take the rag, and blindfold off.

"Jay?" You whispered. "Jason, wake up, c'mon we gotta go." It was no use.

"So you're the little gal burning up faces," another rough voice says.

You stand up straight, facing the significantly larger man in front of you. "Why does everyone keep calling me that? I'm the average height," you complained, crossing your arms.

The man grunts, snapping his fingers. Then, what seemed to be a whole army of men dressed in black and white striped jumpsuits appeared from every corner, with crooked grins and nasal chuckles.

"Naw, but you'd be cut, chopped, and sliced into little pieces after we're done with you, little thing," he smiles.

"All of you against me?" You pouted. Well, that's just not fair, is it? How about a little disadvantage for you guys." You threw knives in all light sources, smashing the bulbs, now with the only source of ligbt being the moon shining out from a window or two.

You quickly whip out night vision goggles, activating them and your flamethrower ready in your hands.

You start blasting at all the men that attempt (and failed) to attack you, quickly burning their faces, hands, legs, all over their bodies.

All you could hear were the sounds of their writhing pain. You also made sure to stay close to Jason, making sure no one tried to hurt him.

Just as you were about to roast another guy, your flamethrower suddenly ran out of fuel.

"Well, shit," you muttered to yourself. "Old fashioned, it is."

You used the flamethrower itself as a combat weapon, hurling it through their guts and crotches, any of their most vulnerable areas.

The last guy to go down was the supposed leader. You smash the flamethrower into his head, probably leaving a dent, and he falls to the ground. You then take out any knives that remain, stabbing them through bith his shoulders and shins.

You took out your remaining anger and adrenaline out on him by using the flamethrower, striking it against his abdomen.

"Asshole! Perveted! Kidnapping! Ugly! Son! Of! A! Bitch!" You exclaim with every blow.

You pants, looking around the room full of unconscious men. Even the one in the cape.

You lift him up, throwing his arm over your shoulder, beginning to haul him out of the warehouse.

By the time Jason woke uo, his head was spinning, his throat was dry, and his vision was blurry. He sits uo, trying to stay still to focus his vision. He then notices that his shirt is off and his torso is bandaged. There were also many patches all over his face.

He slowly gets uo from bed, wincing at the pain. On his nightstand, he sees a glass of water, pills and a sticky note.

"Take the pill and drink all the water, theatre nerd

- Other Nerd."

Jason couldn't help but smile at the little message and consideration. He did as was told, swallowing the pill and gulping down the water.

Wanting to get into bed, he heard voices coming out of his room. He leans against his dokr, trying to listen.

"Half of those guys are in death threatening condition! The other half have permanently damaged bones! You killed a guy, Y/n! When the fuck do you even kill!" It was Dick. Who seemed pissed. Wait.

Did he just put your name and the word kill in the same sentence?

"What was I meant to do, Dick? Lock them up and wait for them to escape again? You and I both know the justice system is bullshit!" You spit back.

"That doesn't make you the judge of death, Y/n!"

"What-Fucking-Ever! Here's an idea! Maybe if you had just a little faith in Jason, he wouldn't feel the need to go out there! He was just trying to help! You're his older brother. Act like it!" You bite, not wanting to hear another word coming out of Dick's mouth, and stormed into Jason's room.

Too bad you didn't know he was leaning on the other side of the door.

He grunts heavily, and you shove the door against him.

"Shit! Jay, what the hell are you doing out of bed!" You scold him, taking him by the arm and leading him back to bed.

"Hello to you too, nerd," he mumbles, lying back down.

"You just wake up? How you feelin'?" Your hand rests against his face.

"I'm fine. What happened?" He replies groggily.

You sighed, sitting on the floor, resting your chin on the edge of the bed. "You got kidnapped. Your tracker and wire went offline."

"So what were you and Dick arguing about?" His brows knit together.

Your head tilted so that you were leaning on your cheek.

"Just tell me, nerd," he scoffed.

"Went to save you on my own. Killed a guy," you shamefully admitted.

He smiled in disbelief. "I thought I was fuckin' hallucinating. Fuck, wished I was conscious to see you in action. You didn't even need to get me, nerd. I had everything under control." He scoffs at the end.

"Mm.. Okay, Mr. black eye and stabbed stomach," you reply tiredly, while poking his nose.

Jason sighs and stares at the ceiling. "Thanks." He mutters.You smile.

"Hm? What was that?" You tease.

"I'm not saying it again. You know what I said."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." You admire the side of his face.

"Why? Why go through all that, Y/n? You haven't even punched a person in who knows how long. And suddenly you put people in the hospital and kill someone? I don't understand," Jason suddenly says, turning to face you.

You look back at him. "They took you."

He shook his head, unsatisfied. "No. That's bullshit. Gar and Conner got kidnapped once. You didn't kill people then."

You looked away. "They aren't you." You mumble.

"So what? What the hell's so special about me, Y/n? Why do you care so much?" Jason was confused. He wanted answers as to why someone could care so much for him. He wanted to know why someone who doesn't believe in violence would kill for him when even his own family couldn't.

"I don't," you tried to excuse yourself. "But if they killed you, I would've killed everyone, and the Titans, and then myself," you casually say, still avoiding his gaze.

Jason couldn't help but snicker. "Sounds very caring to me, nerd," he lowly says.

You hum. "Mm, whatever."

He then dramatically sighs. "You know what, sweetheart. It's pretty cold up here. And I assume the floor isn't as comfortable as the bed," there's a look of both want and need in his eyes.

You smile. "What? Wamt a blankie?" You teased.

"Fuck, just come up here," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

You said nothing else. Just quickly obliged, going around to the other side of the bed, lying beside him.

"You're too far," he complains.

"I'm gonna mess up your bandages," you pout.

"You're so stubborn," Jason says, using his gokd arm to pull you closer, making your head lay on his chest.

"You're one to talk," you snap, though nestling your head into his warmth.

He just hums in response, letting his lips linger on the crown of your head.

I'M SORRY AGAIN, ANON. this is probably lame... and I didn't know how to end it

cries 🥲

[revasserium]

🎀 for the recent fanfic ask!! (i’ll reply abt driving later… after i actually complete the test 😭 but so far i wouldn’t say i’ll be confident enough to pass it on first go…) — @anonymilk

for the fanfic ask game! (i'm combining a few of ur asks, hope u don't mind!) tbh.. all the questions are good. 💎 & 🍭 are so interesting! — @anonymilk omg! 🪄!!! i didn’t even know??? writing-after care was a thing?? did you? — @anonymilk

🎀- give yourself a compliment about your own writing

hmmm i think i'm pretty good at opening lines? LOL i try to make the opening hook as strong as i can, and then the rest of the fic flows from there :)

💎- why is writing important to you?

ahhh i mean i answered something similar for u here, about how writing makes me feel and what makes me want to give up, what keeps me going. i think it's in the same vein, right? it's my main format of creative outlet, and if i stopped doing it, i become the husk of a human being LOL. it also gives me a way to like exercise a dif part of my brain than i use most days at work, which i really like! :D

🍭- why did you start writing?

the cliche answer is -- because there are stories that i want to tell, and i want to tell them my way -- which is 50% true, 50% of the time LOL. but it's also just that like... i'm an only child and my best friends growing up were literally my parents. but i spent a lot of time alone inside my head as a kid, and writing was a way for me to like entertain myself with the stories that i was playing out inside my head most of the time. and now, they've become both an escape and a sanctuary. the first fanfic i ever wrote was like hp!fanfic when i was literally like 7 years old, longhand, in one of those back to school spiral notebooks that u get at target in august with the brightly colored fronts? HAHA i used to also sit in front of the tv with all the lord of the rings movies on repeat and write fanfic for that, also longhand LOL. so yeah! that's how/why i got started!

🪄- what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you’ve finished a fic?

tbh i didn't rly think about writing-aftercare either!!!! i think it's bc writing is kinda my aftercare... for a long day like. i pour myself a glass of wine, sit, and write. it's almost like a before bed ritual thing that i do. so i guess the aftercare for writing for me is... sleep! LMFAO

[looselucy]

Honest Harry’s House thoughts GO

Okay, as ever I’m going to be very honest, and like it was with Fine Line, it’s not all positive. SO, if you’re in a new album state of glee and you don’t wanna fuck with negativity right now, you can skim past this one and I will be tagging all album discussion stuff with ‘HH’ so feel free to block that.

I also invite any and all messages about the album if you wanna chat!

Let’s go into my thoughts on Harry’s House then, song by song and then overall opinion.

Music for a Sushi Restaurant – I’m pretty sure this one is going to grow on me. It’s very fun, very pop. I usually really like his opening tracks, and off the bat this one doesn’t feel as strong as MMITH or Golden, but it sets the tone of the album in a really cute way.

Late Night Talking – It sounds soooo much like a Bruno Mars song. Which I consider to be a compliment but I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s funky. It’s fine.

Grapejuice – There are parts of this that absolutely SCREAM Paul McCartney. Scream it. Off the top of my head some examples that feel like this from Paul / The Beatles are Martha My Dear, Young Boy, I Will, Dear Boy. The softness and the quirkiness. Very Paul. You could whack it in the tracklist of Ram (a god tier album) and it wouldn’t feel out of place.

As It Was – I really like this song. I think it was the best choice for a single too, because I don’t know where he’ll go next with singles? That’s a general critique of the album for me personally, none of the others feel like anything beyond an album track.

Daylight – I don’t really have anything interesting to say about this song. I like the heavier bits with the drums and the guitars and wish they had toyed with those sections more. It’s floaty, too floaty for me.

Little Freak – Do you ever have a song where you really like the sound of it, but you dislike the lyrics? That’s how I feel about this song. I think the chorus is nice, but everything in between lyric wise is a no from me. Like a big no. I feel especially like this emoji 🥴 about “tracksuit and a ponytail. You hide the body all that yoga gave you” I was literally sat here like shut the fuck up, man 😂 so this might be a song I like if I can zone out and not concentrate on the words.

Matilda – Both times listening through the album, this is where I found myself being less interested / distracted / bored?? I think this album lulls in the middle, which happens on a lot of albums. It’s the tracks they don’t wanna open or close with, the middle ground songs that just kinda sit there. Happens with albums, TV shows, movies. For me, that happens with this song.

Cinema – Continues with what I was saying for Matilda. These two tracks feel very flat in the centre of this album and will probably be better on a playlist among other things. Also, the end sounds like a beat you could create on Incredibox – which if that isn’t a website you’ve used before, get ready to waste a few hours on it. It’s so much fun!

Daydreaming – Starts to pick things up again with the tempo on this one, but this was also the point of the album where I really started to feel like these songs sounded so similar, so very much within the same vein. It’s certainly a tidy body of work.

Keep Driving – All meshing into one, I don’t even know anymore. I need to listen to these songs on their own because as an album, at this point, it’s kinda losing me. Sorry there’s not much here about the actual song, but… I don’t know what to say.

Satellite – His voice sounds really nice in this song. It’s very sweet. And when he does little songs like this, it reminds me that Harry is good at working with his target audience. There’s still something so boyish and boyband-ish about tracks like this. It feels like a track for people to swoon over, y’know?

Boyfriends – This is probably my favourite track on the album. I enjoy the simplicity of it. The harmonies are lovely. It’s so VERY Simon & Garfunkel. Even the guitar riff sounds similar to the opening + closing one in I Am a Rock. And you guys know me, I fucking love S & G a lot. This song hits a sweet spot for me.

Love Of My Life – I enjoy that this one does feel at least a little different to the rest of the album. It has some shreds of Alex Turner in there with a handful of the lyrics. But it’s also a song that almost felt like it was building up to go somewhere and then never did? I kept wanting it to get bigger and bolder and then it just… ended.

Overall thoughts – the album is a little too floaty for my personal taste. I’ve expressed it on here a million times, but I prefer heavier stuff, darker stuff, shit you can feel in your chest. I love that kinda stuff, with soft injected in between, and this album is entirely soft. One of the things I liked about Fine Line was the variety it had, all the ups and downs. This album feels very one tone to me. I had a similar problem with ‘Imploding the Mirage’ that The Killers released a few years back. Individually the tracks might be great, but listening through it as an album can get boring because every song feels so so similar. It doesn’t strictly mean any of it is bad (Imploding has some of my favourite Killers songs) but as a body of work, it can become tired.  I was waiting for a standout song and I didn’t get one.

I think it’s his safest album yet.

[dreamkidddream]

I really enjoyed your writing on the ADA members with a younger sibling like partner <33 I was wondering if you could write the same scenario but with Chuuya and Fyodor? Except the younger partner in question has a rough past and cheery/joking personality similar to Dazai(?) I'm super excited to see more of your writing!! c:

Hi anon! Thank you for the compliment and for reading (here’s the scenario for those that want to read it)! The only difference is that instead of this reader being pure, they’re going to be like a mini Dazai (or at least similar to him). One change that I did make was that Reader isn’t as suicidal as Dazai (ie. constantly trying to find a way to end their life), but Reader is ready to go whenever and wherever, whether it’s on their terms or not. Reader is gender neutral and hope you enjoy!

Also ayyyeeee my first time writing for Fyodor! Hope I did him justice cause his part took a while lol

TW: Mentions of suicide, dark moments (Reader is a bit sadistic, but nothing graphic is mentioned) small spoilers for Dark Era arc and Season 3

Acting as a Younger Sibling with a Rough Past and Personality Similar to Dazai with: Chuuya and Fyodor

Chuuya

Well he was extremely disturbed to say the least. Okay extremely may be over exaggerating, but the way you acted got underneath his skin bad

You reminded him too much of Dazai, minus the suicide attempts and the animosity towards him. Although that didn’t stop the morbid jokes from happening

“Hey Chu-Chu, what did the librarian say to the guy that wanted to check out a book on how to commit suicide?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that!-“

“Go away, you’re not going to bring it back. HA! A knee slapper, am I right?”

He wondered if Dazai got to you first like he did Akutagawa, and if he did, that was just another reason to strangle him

You were his partner, and you were young. So seeing the way you interacted with everyone and everything with such a pessimistic attitude while still being cheery was alarming

Not to mention how easy it is for you to just readily accept death at every turn. You’re the literal embodiment of “guess I’ll die” and it drives Chuuya up the wall every time

He remembers the one time an enemy held you hostage how you were so cheerful to finally be rid of this joke you called a life, and that you told the guy who was holding a gun to your head to “put it between the eyes, it looks 10x better that way.” And “don’t be afraid to blow my brains out either! But you do you, but I think it’s a rather stylistic choice if I do say so myself.”

The man thought you were trying to distract him at first, but when he figured out that you were serious he honestly got so nervous he was ready to just let you go and suggest therapy lmao

After he handled the situation, he took you directly under his wing. Sure, you were already his partner, but he was really going to look out for you including outside of work. If it meant that he had to “babysit” you, then oh well

Plus he didn’t want to face Mori if he just let you die while under his care

You realized what he was trying to do when you two would go off to “collect information” and would be doing the complete opposite. “Hey, I’m kinda hungry, let’s take a break and grab a bite to eat.”

“I thought we had to get this info back to Mori ASAP. Not that I care if he’s mad, he’s been holding out on me and this is the perfect way to take revenge.”

“Holding out how?”

“I told him that since he’s a doctor he would be the perfect teacher to show me some new techniques.”

“...on?”

“Torturing, duh! My methods are getting kinda stale, and I do want to perfect my craft after all. I want to be good at something before I kick the bucket, Chu.”

Poor man is honestly in so much distress because of you please help him

And the way you interacted with the other members was both entertaining and horrifying to watch at times. Majority of the time, you were this happy go lucky kid with a dark sense of humor (you still made people smile, although sometimes it was tense or apprehensive, but whatever a smile is still a smile). But when you were having a bad day or a mission was going wrong, everyone knew to steer clear of you.

A new recruit tried to cheer you up one day, telling you that “it could always be worse”. You then got pulled into the office with a very angry Chuuya and a mildly disappointed Mori.

Chuuya finally had enough after months of this occurred. It was like a never ending cycle: except your behavior was getting increasingly more reckless and dangerous. It was driving him crazy trying to figure out why you were this way and if it was any way to snap you out of it

He wasn’t a stranger to death, he’s seen it with his own two eyes, end even killed people with his bare hands. But the huge difference between you two is that he didn’t particularly enjoy killing, if it had to be done then he had no problems doing so; it comes with the job y’know? But with you, you took actual pleasure in killing. It filled you with a sick sense of glee, and it even made his stomach turn

The bond between you two grew from just a typical work relationship (as far as working in the mafia goes). He knew that from underneath your rather concerning persona, you were just troubled. Someone or something made you this way, and while he had his own troubles growing up, he was able to deal with it and overcome his issues. It just seemed like you just...gave in to yours. And it made him feel pity for you.

You didn’t mind Chuuya at all. You actually liked being his partner! He was pretty much the only person that you didn’t feel a need to harm or kill. And he was fun to be around, when he wasn’t being such a party pooper (I mean what’s the point of being in the mafia when you can’t purposely spill some blood every now and then for fun?). The only thing you didn’t like was how he would try and get you to talk about your past. You honestly didn’t see a point in it, it’s called the past for a reason, why didn’t he understand that?!

But no matter how many times you would shut down or try to change the subject, he would always try again, and again, and again. It was very annoying. And you didn’t like to talk about it. Why didn’t Chuuya understand that?!

Eventually, his pestering worked. One day after a rough mission when he had to patch you up, you opened up to him. You didn’t immediately tell him everything, but you gave him small insights to what happened, to what lead you to be this way

You could tell that he was grateful that he was finally getting somewhere with you. And you yourself was surprised that your dynamic didn’t change. He didn’t look at you with sympathy in his eyes, he didn’t baby you, he wasn’t disgusted by you, everything was normal. The only difference is that Chuuya told you that it was okay to talk to him, and that you shouldn’t be scared to approach him (psh you scared, yeah okay)

Chuuya felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders once you opened up. You were still a bit sadistic (but you did tone it back after the recruit incident, and after you saw how repulsed he looked, so you just did everything behind closed doors now) and had your cheery persona on, but it felt a little bit more real now. It felt genuine. It gave him a good feeling to see some spark in your eyes instead of the full he felt himself getting used to. And he would never say it to you, but it also gave him a warm feeling with him being your role model (you knew but didn’t want to burst his bubble yet)

Your change wasn’t very noticeable at first, but that’s okay. No one needed to know, it was fine with just you and Chuuya. You still felt the desire to just be done with life, but it wasn’t your focus whenever you were with him. You hadn’t made peace with your past yet, but you felt you could one day with him by your side. He was someone that you didn’t knew you needed (or wanted to admit to), but it worked out in the end. You had doubts that you could or would ever change, but if you did, growing to be someone like Chuuya would’nt be the worst possible outcome

Plus, whenever he did run into Dazai with his new sidekick, he is 10000% bragging about how much better and cooler you are, with him being the superior between them both. He can’t WAIT till you guys can whoop their ass

Fyodor

Well weren’t you such an interesting character

To see someone as young as you ready to just leave this world in an abrupt way was intriguing, and he realized that he could use this to his advantage. Maybe even give you something to gain in exchange

He found you hiding inside a disgusting abandoned building (a fitting place for a rat if he would say so himself), drenched in blood. Fyodor didn’t necessarily care why, but he was curious about one thing: why were you smiling? Your eyes were so lifeless, yet here you were smiling so bright, as if you weren’t covered in someone’s blood

Fyodor found himself smiling down at you. Did you think he was prey, that he was going to be your next target? He wanted you to try, he wanted to see what you were really capable of

“Tell me, what is going to be your next move? Do you wish to attack me?”

“If you do something that I don’t like, then yes, that’s the plan. Why are you here Mister? You wanna have some fun too?”, your smile turned into a smirk, twirling your very sharp knife in your hand. “You’re not even from here, so why are you trying to bother such an innocent kid like me?”

He matched your smirk, “You are from innocent, child, even a blind man can see that. To see just how full of sin you are. This wasn’t your first atrocity that you committed nor would it be your last. Which is a shame, it might be too late for me to cleanse you of your filth.”

Oh, he was going to be very amusing to mess with. But you weren’t stupid. Something wasn’t right with this man. No one would walk up to someone with copious amounts of blood on them, holding a weapon that caused said blood, while berating them about being “full of sin”. What was his ability? Did he have people with him? Was the building surrounded or booby trapped? These questions swirled around your head, all while he just kept smirking at you. He was pissing you off, who the hell did he think he was?

But you kept your anger at bay, plastering a cheerful smile on your face. “Sin? Cleanse me of my filth? I guess I do kinda stink but who exactly do you think you are, some type of God?”

“That’s exactly what I am. I’m here to free this world from this wretched curse that has been brought upon.”

...huh? Did-did he escape from the asylum or something? Did he seriously believe himself to be a God (not even a prophet but an actual God)? Seeing your confusion, he continued on, “The curse of ability users. They plague this Earth, and they need to be eliminated.”

“Why is that? What’s wrong with having abilities? Hellooooo, some people’s abilities are actually pretty cool! If you just have a terrible ability, it’s your problem, not the world-“

“Why not let me show you why it’s indeed a curse?”

“And how would you do that? You must be crazy if you think I’m going anywhere with you. I may be dangerous but I’m not dumb!”

“You poor, misguided soul.”, he tutted at you. “Look at where you have ended up at. These people with these so called “cool abilities” have failed you, have they not? Yet you still idolize them, not believing that they are the reason for your misfortunes. If they were truly your idols, they wouldn’t have left you to fend for yourself, to live among the rats. They left you to rot, do you not see that?”

He was hitting too close to home, he was getting too personal, too close. He didn’t know you at all, you’re a complete stranger to him, but why did his words hold some truth to them?

“Come with me, and I will prove to you first hand why this has to be done.”, he was now physically close to you, staring you deep into your eyes. “It would be such a waste for you to die without knowing the truth, wouldn’t you agree?”

You didn’t have much, he wasn’t wrong. But if he could take you somewhere with real food and not scraps you had to fight to find, and to have real shelter, then fine. You agreed. And if you felt that something was up, you’ll just kill him, run away, or both

After he took you away, he kept to his word. It seemed like he was really was telling the truth, you getting first-hand experience like he promised. It was scary that he was right, but you were also indebted to him. He not only allowed you to live in luxury (at least it was luxury to you considering what you had before), but he opened your eyes to what the true problem is. He gave your life a new purpose. If you two were able to successfully complete his goal, then your problems would be gone forever right? You would finally be able to feel a sense of peace, and you can’t wait till that could happen

You and Fyodor, after he opened your eyes, bonded easier than in the beginning. You were smart enough to not fully trust him after leaving with him, but after just a couple of pulled strings to cause certain things to happen, you slowly melted and molded into the way that he planned. You would be an excellent pawn in his grand plan, and you would do well in keeping him entertained at the same time

You were a joyful child, even when carrying out his dirty work, you did so gleefully. After joining the Rats in the House of the Dead, you tried to spread that joy among the other members. They didn’t find it very amusing, but you didn’t care and neither did Fyodor. You were far too important to let go of now

You were always by him, it seemed. Always in the same space, whether he was planning his next move, and playing the cello, you were always there with this look of awe directed at him. Every time he would catch you staring, he would simply chuckle and softly reprimand you about, “how rude it is to stare, but you simply can’t help it.”

He even taught you how to play the cello!

You sounded terrible but practice makes perfect

As time went on and the end goal seeming to be closing in, he came to see you as more than just an expendable tool. He found out about your past, but simply proved to you once again why you two had to make sure the curse was ridden as soon as possible. No one wanted a repeat of what happened to you to happen to anyone else, so the mission had to be success. Failure was not an option

Fyodor didn’t see himself as a cruel man towards you. He just didn’t mince his words and he made sure that you were dealing with the truth, and not some lie that was attempted to be twisted as reality. If anything, that was the way that he showed that he held some compassion for you, he wasn’t willing to let you be lead astray from the truth again, not while he was here. You had somehow wiggled your way into his mind, where he had been accepting of your close bond, and he took that into consideration

Once his goal is achieved and he has truly made his place known as a God, he’ll make sure that you gain your rightful place among him as well. You were worthy in Fyodor’s eyes, and as long as nothing came in between your bond and the end goal, then everything will work out. He will make sure of that.

[tommybaholland]

complicated  

featuring: shinso 

this has been sitting in the drafts for a minute but since he’s reappeared in the anime, this seemed like the perfect time to finish writing it. this is a bit of an expansion on what i wrote for shinso in “what they’re insecure about in the relationship.” it’s not much but i think it’s an interesting concept and i hope you enjoy it!

“wow! you can really make people do whatever you want!”

“there’s a lot of villainous things you could do with that!”

“don’t brainwash us, okay?” 

he’s heard it all before. every person he meets, without a doubt, have something to say about his quirk. he’s used to it by now but that doesn’t mean he’s not bothered by it. frankly, shinso didn’t want to know what they thought. on the other hand, he was cynical. what could one say about it that didn’t sound like a backhanded compliment?  

he figured if people really thought his quirk was powerful, then he could train to be a hero and show that he can use it to help people. prove everyone wrong, especially those with more physical quirks who think he shouldn’t train in the hero course. 

there were only two people who seemed to want to fight for his dream. 

this first being mr. aizawa. of all people, the teacher of class 1A of the hero course wanted to help him. the teacher didn’t sugarcoat shinso’s performance at the sports festival. rather, he commented on shinso’s potential in the hero course, given that he could relate to the lack of a ‘flashy’ combat quirk. shinso had been training hard to use the capture weapon, his mind flashing back to what mr. aizawa said when he first received it. 

“using support items doesn’t make you helpless or handicapped. just like those who have physical quirks use them as extensions of their own bodies, you have to think of it as your own extension.”  

that was probably one of the only real compliments he had received. 

then there was you. 

he met you back when he started at ua in the general studies course. he never looked forward to starting somewhere new, especially in a course that he didn’t apply for in the first place. meeting new people was just one part of it. 

it’s not that you were different. you knew how to respect boundaries. you didn’t say anything about his quirk but even then, it didn’t really matter because this wasn’t the hero course. people still asked. he didn’t see the point. 

you paid him attention in other ways. you were just as observant as him and it had him wondering if that was part of your own quirk. even if he didn’t know you had noticed what he was doing, you always had something to say about it. something that wasn’t a backhanded compliment, like how he could make things or fix things easily or in creative ways.

that made him really start to think the world of you. yet he still so lucky that you were dating him. you made him believe that his destiny wasn’t set and it wasn’t too late to become a hero. the day he told you he was going to try to move into the hero course, you couldn’t be happier for him. 

“i was hoping you’d do that!” 

“yeah. it’s kinda crazy that it’s all happening.”

“that’s great, toshi. i’m so proud of you.” 

he felt warm from all your kindness and support. however, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling about you truly trusting him. he had been pretty transparent at this point about how he felt about other people and how he had been treated in the past. he was never looking for your sympathy but having you there to listen to him helped immensely. on the other hand, feeling this close to someone scared him. sometimes he wondered what would happen if he couldn’t control his quirk or something happens that compels him to do something bad to you or someone else. could he brainwash himself?

he sometimes wishes his feelings weren’t so complicated. 

“you trust me, right?” he asked, looking away. he knew the answer but he wanted to hear you say it.

“of course,” you replied without hesitation. “do you...think that i don’t?” 

“no, no. i just-- sometimes i feel like-- i don’t know.” he struggled to put it into words. or maybe he was just afraid of what would happen if he said it.

“what? what do you feel?”

he sighed. “i guess i just don’t trust myself very much and therefore i feel like you shouldn’t trust me even though you say you do.” 

“why shouldn’t i trust you?”

“i don’t know. i’ve just been thinking about training to be a hero and what if my quirk-- and it-- and something happens to you?” 

you nod in understanding. “i need you to do something that may help.”

“hm?”

“i want you to brainwash me, hitoshi.”

he looks over to you, incredulity written all over his face. 

“no. i can’t do that.”

he’s never used his quirk on any of his loved ones, the few that he has anyway. you were especially someone who he’d never want to control. it didn’t feel right to him. 

“that’s why i’m not asking you,” you reply bluntly. “i think you need to see how much i trust you but more importantly how much you trust yourself.” 

he was still in disbelief. “how do you know that this will help? what if it just causes more problems?”

“we’ll just have to see. but i know you wouldn’t do anything you’d regret.”

was this really something he had to do? this seemed so complicated. it was just another reason why he wonders how he was given this quirk. but you were right. it was already causing him doubt and mental block. something had to be done if he was planning to be a hero one day. 

he lets out one final sigh and nods. “okay.”

you grinned at him. “ready whenever you are.”

he heeds your words as the condition is met. in a split second your eyes go blank, leaving nothing but a vacant expression on your face, signaling that his quirk had you successfully in his mental hold. you sat there silently, waiting for a command. you were also very still, which surprised him a little. 

obviously, if he were using it on an unexpecting target, they’d be trying to fight it. even though you were voluntarily wanting to be brainwashed, he can’t imagine that it’s the most comfortable feeling in the world. he sat in silence with you for a few moments before speaking, his quirk still activated. 

“you can still hear me under my control but you can’t respond.”

another beat of silence as if he were expecting you to answer or nod. 

“come here.”

still under his control, you move closer to sit right next to him. he looks at your blank face, brushing some hair off your forehead before releasing you from his quirk. the beautiful color of your eyes returns, a slight gasp leaving your lips as you regain control of your own head. 

you grab the hand that’s caressing the side of your head looking down at it before your eyes meet curious purple ones. 

“are you okay?”

you nodded, the familiar grin returning on your face. 

“are you?” you returned as you leaned closer to him, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

he mimicked your response and nodded as his gaze shifted from your eyes to your lips. his arms wrapped around you as your lips connected in a slow, passionate kiss. 

it was emotional for you. hearing that he’s been hurt by all these thoughts and hoping that he would accept himself. you wondered if it was enough.

he brushed your cheek when you pulled away. your glossy eyes looked back into his, smiling at his presence. he returned the smile, something that you were hoping you would see. 

“you’re a good guy, toshi. you deserve to know that and everyone deserves to see that when you become a great hero.” 

that was the second time he had heard a genuine compliment. it wasn’t necessarily about his quirk but to him it was. 

“thank you, kitten,” he replied, hugging you tightly. he felt warm again but it felt like it was filling him to the brim. 

“i think i love you. a lot.” 

that was when your tears finally fell. 

out of everything in his life, you were the most uncomplicated. he had tangible feelings for you and they were something worth fighting for. he’s heard before that unconditional love is hard to come by. he can finally relax when he realizes he doesn’t need conditions to love you.

time for another bnha night! shinso says send requests here..

[bourbonbees]

Suptober Day 6- Cemetery Boys

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34336042

Rating- G Jack POV

Jack has discovered there are a great deal of things that he loves about being human, he loves eating cake, taking his dog for walks, and swimming, but there’s nothing he loves more than his family. His family is not conventional, he’s got three dads, one of which is an angel, but all of them love him unconditionally. It’s rocky at first with Dean but after some quality time spent listening to Zep and going fishing together, the grumpy hunter warms up to him. It also doesn’t hurt that Jack’s first dad, Castiel, is also Dean’s partner and therefore holds a lot of sway over him, whether he likes it or not. Sam, his third dad was the best! He’s the one that establishes family movie night, Jack’s favorite night of the week!

Sam lets Jack pick the movies pretty much every week, much to Dean’s dismay. This week Jack chooses Ghostbusters as his pick. It’s great, he especially loves the jokes and the Stay Puffed Marshmallow man. He isn’t sure where the writers did their research for the movie though, his experiences with ghosts contain a lot less whimsy and a lot more salting and burning. The movie is just wrapping up when it hits him, they don’t have a name, every great team of heroes has a name.

“Hey, why don’t we have a name?” Jack poses the question, looking to Dean for a response.

“Kid, how much candy have you had? Are you sugar crashing? Remember, me Dean, you Jack, that annoying guy over there, Sam, this adorable ray of sunshine, Castiel.” Dean is concerned, he feels Jack’s forehead and looks him over, his parental instincts kicking in.

“No like a team name! Like there’s The Avengers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, uh The Fellowship of the Ring.” Jack lists off, Sam sending him a proud smile at the last one.

“Jack, hunters don’t really do teams. We’re kinda solitary, it’s our nature.” Sam explains, causing Jack even further confusion as he looks around at his family. They do everything together, live together, celebrate wins together, spend holidays together, work together, is that not a team?

“We’re not a team? Isn’t a family a team?” Jack frowns, worrying that he’s misread a long series of social cues. He is prone to that sometimes, his brain working a bit differently from his dads, neurodivergent, that’s what Sam had called it.

“Jack, oh, of course we’re a team. But more than that, we’re family.” Cas swoops in, reaching over and patting Jack on the shoulder. Cas is always the gentlest of his dads, he gives really good hugs, and is the one Jack goes to on the days where being a human is too much to deal with.

“Would it make you feel better if we had a team name?” Dean offers, following Cas’ lead. Jack doesn’t miss when Cas sends Dean a small nod of approval. Dean has a different parenting approach, sometimes he’s a bit harder on Jack. Jack doesn’t like that but he understands that Dean is trying.

“Yeah, I was thinking Cemetery Boys!” Jack says right away, looking around the room expectantly. Sam chokes slightly on his beer while Cas smiles approvingly, Dean laughs softly, shaking his head at Jack.

“Well we do spend a disproportionate amount of time in cemeteries, so it makes sense to me.” Jack defends, his cheeks feeling hot, blushing, that’s what Sam had told him it was. Sometimes Jack hates being human, blushing is embarrassing and makes him feel a bit like a baby.

“Shouldn’t we be cemetery men?” Dean questions, raising a quizzical brow at Jack.

“Technically speaking, Jack and myself are neither male nor female. So, no.” Cas supplies, shrugging his shoulders at Dean and earning an eye roll. Jack doesn’t understand why his dads enjoy teasing each other so much, maybe annoying someone was another human way to express love?

“So, you’re telling me, I came out as bisexual for nothing because, I’m not really dating a man?” Dean blanches, gently smacking Cas on the shoulder. Hitting people is another love language Jack has learned, but not too hard, he learned that after accidently punching Sam a little too enthusiastically on the shoulder. Play fighting is good, actual violence is bad, he had explained that to him.

“We’re non-binary! Claire taught me that.” Jack is happy to interrupt, always happy to share the latest things he’d learned. He loves Claire for that reason, she’s always full of new things to learn, she is an excellent big sister. “Claire, Me, Cas, and Dean, we’re all LGBLT? Or is it LGBTQ? Either way, Claire is a lesbian, she also taught me that. And Dean, you’re a bisexual! Cas, you’re gay, I think? So, you didn’t come out for nothing, you came out for your non-binary partner.” Ha! Jack is very proud, this is one area he feels confident he knows more about than Sam, Dean, or even Cas.

“You’re surprisingly well informed for a toddler.” Sam compliments, tipping his beer bottle at him.

“The toddler age range ends at 3, I assure you, Jack is 4. He is no longer a toddler. I read all the development books.” Cas corrects, earning a laugh from Dean and a groan from Sam.

“He did, trust me Sammy, made me read some of them as well. Babies are weird man. Glad you came out fully formed kid, it was a relief.” Dean chuckles. Jack is relieved he came out fully formed too, it’s a lot more fun hanging out with his family when he can talk to them like this.

“I’m a celestial being, age doesn’t exist for me. I am as old or as young as I want to be at any given minute. Isn’t that neat?” Jack prides himself on choosing this form, a teenage body, he likes it because he can help his family. He likes going hunting, driving cars, and helping Dean cook dinner, a baby couldn’t do any of that!

“He really is your son-uh I mean they really are your child?” Dean self corrects, Jack notices he does that a lot more lately, again he really is trying to be better. Jack admires that about Dean, it’s something he tries to emulate as best as he can, always working to be a better person and make his mistakes right.

“Oh, I’m comfortable with he/they, just like my dad! I do feel like a boy most of the time.” Jack looks to Cas who nods along with him. They’d talked about it once, Cas explained that Jack could change a number of things about himself if he wished, if it would better match his soul. But Jack is really and truly happy with who he is. So is Cas.

“Yeah that’s my son.” Cas says fondly, pulling Jack into a hug. This is a good hug, the kind that makes Jack feel safe and cared for. Cas always makes him feel like he belongs, that no matter what he has a place in his arms.

That night, Jack sets a plan into motion. He waits until everyone is asleep and gets to work on creating gifts for his family. He uses his powers to manifest a set of matching black crew neck sweatshirts with the words ‘Cemetery Boys’ embroidered on the front in white thread. He then designs a magnet, putting a little ghost and tombstone on it. Once he’s satisfied he goes through the recycling and finds a box to put the sweatshirts in.

The next part is the most dangerous. Jack, creeps down the hall to the door that leads into the garage attached to the bunker. His eyes glimmer when he finds his target, the black 67 Impala, sitting dead center in the garage. Dean had just waxed her the day before so she was extra shiny. Jack likes when Baby is shiny, it makes the sun reflect on his face, nice and warm. He takes the magnet and carefully places it on the bumper, making sure not to scuff or scratch the shiny metal. Then in a flash, he is back in his room, laying in his bed as if nothing has happened.

Dean doesn’t notice the magnet until they are packing for a hunt the next day, a simple salt and burn case in Wisconsin. The whole family is going! Dean has even promised Jack that he will take him to Wisconsin Dells if it goes well and they will go to a place called Deer Park where he could pet and feed a bunch of deer. Jack likes animals, sometimes more than people, they’re much less complicated.

“Oh my god! My Baby is a whore! You gave her a tramp stamp?” Dean gasps, pointing to the offending ‘Cemetery Boys’ magnet on the bumper.

“You like it? I made it myself!” Jack beams with pride, hoping Dean was speechless because he was blown away by his ability to create magnets.

“Also, the term you’re looking for is sex worker. You need to be more sex positive Dean, especially for someone, who from the sound I hear coming from your room at night, seems to enjoy sex a great deal.” Jack blurts out nervously when Dean doesn’t respond. Jack tends to do that, he wishes he could stop, another part of what makes him different from most people.

“Oh, for the love of Christ. Please Jack, no.” Sam is doing something Claire told Jack is a facepalm, meaning he was either embarrassed or frustrated, perhaps both?

“Do not be ashamed of our healthy sex life, Dean. But do but ashamed of your gendered slurs and generally overdramatic demeanor. The car is unharmed, it’s a magnet.” Cas steps in, doing the teasing thing again. Jack really doesn’t understand his dads, but he’s glad they seem happy together.

“I swear one day Baby and I will drive away and leave you all behind. Traitors.” Dean threatens, this is a joke, Jack measures. Dean does that a lot, uses sarcasm and empty threats, at first they used to confuse and frighten Jack but now he just accepts it’s part of his nature. Dean is grumpy. Loveable but grumpy.

“See your theatrics are quite comical. You couldn’t leave us if you tried. Who would open the pickle jars for you, darling?” Cas smirks, Jack remembers witnessing this scene, Dean saying all the “no words” at a jar of gherkins as he struggled for a good 5 minutes, until his dad took the jar and opened it within two seconds.

“It was one time! And I swear I loosened it!” Dean glowers, clearly ashamed by the great pickle debacle of last week.

“Dads, stop. I will remove the magnet.” Jack decides it’s his job to play peacemaker, he steps up and gently takes the magnet off baby’s bumper, Dean visibly sighs in relief. Jack tries to hide his disappointment, he’d meant the sticker as a gift.

Cas notices his mood shift and is by his side, pulling Jack into a side hug. “Hey, you can put it on my truck.” He offers, rubbing Jack’s back and making him instantly feel better, must be magic dad powers Jack figures.

“Thanks dad, this is why you’re my favorite.” He says without thinking, Sam and Dean giving him matching offended expressions.

“Uh-what about me, I’m the one that sneaks you candy when Cas isn’t looking.” Sam makes a good point, he is exceptionally good at sneaking. He and Jack have so much fun together, that’s how they ended up with Miracle the dog. Sam had helped Jack smuggle him into the bunker and once both Jack and Cas had bonded with the dog, Dean couldn’t kick him out. Though Jack knows that Dean loves the dog just as much, he’s caught him slipping Miracle some of the good bacon when he thinks no one is looking.

“No Dean is the one that gives me candy. You help me pull pranks!” Jack laughs as Dean, flinches, quickly busing himself with packing all their bags in the trunk along with the weapons they’d need.

“Dean!” Cas says in his low, ‘oh no you’re in trouble,’ voice. “We’ve dicussed this, Jack’s intake of high fructose corn syrup is frighteningly high. He needs to eat real food.” He adds. Nougat is a food, Jack thinks privately, nougat might be his favorite food in fact.

“He’s a kid, he’ll be fine. Dean and I lived on that shi-stuff as kids and we turned out alright.” Sam, usually the vegetable police, surprisingly comes to Jack and Dean’s rescue, earning a matching raised brow from them both.

“Did you though?” Cas challenges, hand on his hip, sometimes dad gets sassy. Jack likes when dad gets sassy because it’s funny, makes him laugh.

“Well damn, don’t sugar coat it or anything babe.” Dean says in disbelief, opening the passenger door for Cas, Sam climbing into Baby’s backseat before Dean motions for Jack to come sit behind him. “Do I even want to know?” He sighs as he spots the box Jack is carrying.

“Well you’ve all been distracting me, I almost forgot.” Jack pauses as he opens the box and holds up the Sam sized sweatshirt. “I made us all shirts! Team shirts, we’re the Cemetery Boys!” He says proudly, shoving the shirt at Sam, then two at Cas, one for him and one for Dean. Jack pulls on his own shirt right away, stretching his arms and modeling it for them all.

“Can you all wear them for me?” Jack pulls out his trump card for this one, using the ‘look’ that Sam had taught him. He made his eyes big and kept them open just long enough so they were watering slightly, then bit his lip.

“I really screwed myself when I taught you my secrets. Really, using my own puppy eyes on me. Really short sighted of me to teach you that.” Sam sighs as he pulls on the sweatshirt, Cas doing the same.

“Nope, still not doing it. I don’t do matching shirts.” Dean holds firm, shaking his head at Cas when he holds out the sweatshirt to him as they pull out of the garage.

“Dean, the couch in the library is awfully uncomfortable. It’d be a shame if you had to sleep there.” Cas is firmly on team Cemetery Boys, pulling out the big threats to get Jack his way.

“Ugh fine, but no one can ever find out about this!” Dean groans, waiting until he’s at a stop sign at the end of the road to pull it on. Jack lights up, his team is complete, all three dads are wearing his shirt!

“It’s funny how easily emasculated you are Dean. Life is a lot more fun when you stop caring about gender expectations.” Cas smirks, Dean rolling his eyes at Cas and mimicking his know it all expression.

“Dean is sensitive, dad, and he’s really good at making pies! I think he cares less than you think he does.” Jack pauses, pleased when Dean makes eye contact with him in the rearview mirror and smiles. “Besides, I saw the pink underwear he hides when I helped with that laundry that one time.” He adds, Dean’s smile quickly disappearing, his eyes wide as he tightly gripped the steering wheel.

“Jesus Christ, kid, stop selling out all my secrets.” Dean grits between his teeth, now he is blushing. Jack knows Dean hates blushing just as much as he does.

“Oh that’s good! Can’t wait to tell Claire that one!” Sam barks out a laugh, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“You wouldn’t!” Dean hangs his head in shame when they stop for a train.

“Already did!” Sam sing songs, holding up his phone. Jack is sometimes thankful that Claire doesn’t live with them, living with your sibling seems exhausting sometimes, if Sam and Dean are any indication.

“Alright that’s enough Jack, don’t spill all the coffee. Your dad is allowed to have his secrets.” Cas intervenes, gently patting Dean’s thigh.

“Tea, dad, its spill the tea!” Jack sometimes can’t handle how out of touch his dad is. Guess that’s what happens when you’re millions of years old.

“Oh right, what’s the difference?” Cas sighs, laying his head back against the headrest as if he’s exhausted, Jack knows it’s just for dramatic effect because Cas doesn’t sleep.

“Cas, there’s big difference! One is the nectar of the gods and the other is glorified leaf water.” Dean defends, holding Cas’ hand, it’s meant to be a private gesture, but Jack can see it and it makes his heart happy.

“Tea is good.” Sam tries.

“I rest my case.” Dean counterpoints.

The case is a rough one, it turns out to be a bit more than a simple salt and burn. The ghost, a family annihilator was coming from beyond the grave to try to kill his son who had survived his attack. They had split into two groups, Dean and Cas at the cemetery burning the bones and Jack and Sam with the victim, trying to keep him safe.

“Do you think maybe we can take a photo together in our shirts?” Jack asks offhandedly as he and Sam roam the house looking for any objects that might still tether the ghost to the house.

“Why do you care so much about these shirts and taking a photo together?” Sam asks curiously, making Jack pause to think for a moment.

“Because, I’ve been watching a bunch of shows and movies, and all the families in them, they have all these photos together. They make all these memories together and they display them in their houses for everyone to see. I want that. The fact that we don’t have that makes me kind of scared, like this isn’t real. Like you all are prepared to run at a moment’s notice if I go nuclear.” Jack explains, using air quotes around the word nuclear.

“Oh. Oh. Jack, hey, it’s not like that. I guess, well we’ve been so busy saving people and hunting things, we’ve lost track of normal family things. You’re family Jack. Promise.” Sam says right away, pulling Jack into a crushing hug. Sam is strong, Jack hopes to be that strong someday.

“Can we take a photo then, a family portrait?” Jack asks hopefully.

“Family portrait? Family portrait. Shit! Jack, the family portrait!” Sam gasps, letting Jack go and looking around the room with wild eyes.

“Huh?” Jack is trying to catch up before he spots the family portrait hanging above the fireplace, both the victim and his evil departed dad in the photo. He rushes to grab it off the wall and tosses it into the fireplace. Sam pulls out a container of salt and lighter fluid, coating the portrait, then Jack tosses a match, lighting it on fire.

“Good work kid.” Sam grins as the ghost appears and then bursts into flames. “I think you’ve earned that portrait.”

True to his word, the first thing in the morning, Sam helps Jack use the laptop to find the closest portrait studio. It happens to be a JC Penney portrait studio, making Dean groan and complain about cheesy backgrounds and awkward poses that they’d likely endure. With much coaxing and further threats from Cas to relegate Dean to sleeping with Miracle on the dog bed, he agrees to the photoshoot.

Jack gets several copies of the photos made. He hands out wallet sized copies to Mary and Eileen who both coo over how adorable they look. Cas gets it framed and hangs it in the library, Dean never admits he likes it, but Jack catches him stopping to look at it every day, a proud smile on his face.

This is Jack’s family. His team. His Cemetery Boys.

[dc41896]

Safe Haven

Hey guys! So a little backstory for this imagine, I randomly had a dream about this scenario with EZ and as soon as I woke up I was like “I gotta write that!” so here we are! Also just want to add how I really miss Mayans MC and my bois and I can’t wait for season 3 to come out🥰! Okay that’s pretty much it other than I hope you guys like it and sorry if it’s long or doesn’t flow well (I feel like it kinda seems rushed and towards the end doesn’t sound the best, but then again that might just be me being overly critical of myself 🤷🏽‍♀️ lol).

Pairing: EZ ReyesxBlack Reader

⚠️: Bit of angst, mentions of blood (very tiny), fluff mixed in throughout though

Sunlight beaming down from the small window above your bed, EZ slowly opens his eyes to see your still figure lying next to him. Hand placed just below his newest tattoo marking the birth of your son and leg draped over his, he gently brings you closer taking in the coconut scent of your lotion still radiating off your skin from last night.

Living a life like his, rarely could he experience peaceful mornings just lying down hearing the birds chirp outside, so he made sure to appreciate every second of it that he could.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!?! YOU THINK IM THAT DUMB TO NOT KNOW YOU’RE LYING?!??!!”

Barely muffled shouting from your neighbors coming through the walls, EZ rolls his eyes with a soft groan while you begin to wake up.

“They’re arguing again?,” you groggily ask rubbing your eyes as a yawn slips from your mouth.

“Yea they just started.”

“Well, it could be worse. They could’ve started at one in the morning like last time,” you softly laugh grazing your thumb along his cheekbone. Taking your hand in his, he kisses your knuckles before leaning down to give the same attention to your pouted lips. Slightly calloused yet soft hand gripping your thigh, you push against his chest separating his lips from yours.

“Don’t start.”

“Start what?”

“You know exactly what,” you smirk. “Today we’re supposed to go get more diapers for Omari and more food for my fridge since someone and his brother keep eating everything.”

“That’s all on Angel, I know how to limit myself. And your leg was draped over me so really I should be the one telling you don’t start,” he chuckles kissing your jaw as you stick your tongue out at him. Sitting up, you carefully step over him to make your way to the bathroom.

“Whatever, I can’t help how I sleep Ezekiel.” Closing the door behind you, a wide smile spreads across his face as he shakes his head. While the use of his full name was only reserved for his father and brother, the way it rolled off your tongue made him want to hear you say it all day.

Swinging his legs over the side, he stretches before hearing the soft cries of his eight month old son in the other room. Quickly putting on his white tank and boots, his long legs guide him to the wooden crib in the next room. Tiny arms reaching between the bars, he carefully lifts him up to bounce him in his arms.

“Hey man, annoying neighbors woke you up too huh?” Reaching in his crib, he removes an older looking stuffed bunny with different sized buttons for eyes and a random patterned patch sewn on its belly. “Look what I got.”

Calming down, his hands roam around it’s face fixated on the black point that was its nose. “That patch was because your uncle Angel decided to keep throwing him at the ceiling fan seeing if he would stay on the blade. Don’t ever let him play with your toys ok?,” he smiles kissing the top of his head.

Like every event in his life, he could vividly remember everything that happened that day. Him begging Angel to stop. His hard headed older brother not listening until cotton fell from above. His mother calming him down insisting how it could be fixed as she smoothed his dark hair before kissing his forehead.

It may sound weird, but every time he saw that bunny he felt his mom’s presence as if he was back to that day sitting in her lap watching as she sewed his friend back together. That’s one reason why he wanted his son to have it, so his abuela would be with him.

Hearing your footsteps, he looks up to see you suspiciously looking towards the door instantly making him worry. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I just thought I heard someone stop in front of the door,” you answer taking one last glance towards the front of your apartment. “It’s nothing though, they probably just paused for a second.”

Handing Omari to you, he approaches the door looking out the peephole before opening it to peak outside making sure no one was hanging around.

“Something like that happens again and I’m not here, call me.”

“I doubt-,”

“I’m serious Y/N.” Locking the door behind him he walks up to you and your babbling son peering down with dark brown eyes that were stern enough to know he meant business, yet still displayed their usual softness showing it was out of love for you and Omari that he was being so protective.

“Okay,” you answer; soon after feeling his beard brush against your skin as he pecks your lips.

———

“Ready to go to the park love?”

Bringing the diaper bag higher on your opposite shoulder, you balance your baby boy on your hip as you lock your door. Just as you turn around, you’re faced with three men patiently waiting while two of them intensely looked at you and your son. The tall, slender one in the middle, clad in a grey suit, displayed a small smile trying to appear friendly, but mostly seemed awkward as if he wasn’t used to that emotion.

“Hello, my name is Lincoln Potter and these are a couple of my associates. We’re looking for a man by the name Ezekiel Reyes, or EZ, as some call him. We have a couple witness accounts on seeing him in the area so we’re asking around for more possible information.” Holding up a candid picture of him on his bike outside his dad’s carneteria, you lightly bounce Omari hoping to distort his view so he wouldn’t possibly recognize his father.

“Sorry, haven’t seen him.”

“Well it doesn’t have to be around here. Have you seen him anywhere else? In town perhaps?”

“No, nowhere else,” you answer showing no emotion. While this was your first physical interaction with Potter, you were definitely familiar with the attorney. A few times while you were at EZ’s trailer he’d have to step away to answer his call or meet him in some secluded location. It was then you saw how much of a pain he could be to any target he had his sights on.

Looking at you for a few seconds his mouth parts as if he had more to say, but instead the awkward smile returns as he hands you his card.

“If you do happen to see him, please call. He’s needed for...very important matters.” Taking the card from his hand, he gazes down to Omari innocently nibbling on his fingers. Black coils on the top of his head shifting from the light breeze, his dark eyes finally meet Potter’s crystal blue ones causing a low chuckle to escape the man’s lips.

“Might I add you have a beautiful son. His father is very lucky to have such a beautiful family.”

Through his compliment you could feel a sense of iciness laced within. Like he knew what information you were keeping from him and was 10 steps ahead of your two.

Politely nodding your head as a soft “thank you” leaves your mouth, you walk by the three men feeling eyes on your back. After buckling your son in his car seat, you move to the drivers side quickly closing the door behind you before resting your head on the steering wheel to take a deep breath.

“Mama,” Omari whines lightly kicking his feet wanting the car to move.

“I know we’re going baby boy just give mommy a second.” Dialing EZ’s number, you pull out of the parking lot onto the busy street anxiously waiting for him to answer.

“Hey, you okay?,” he asks, deep voice full of concern and worry.

“Um well yes and no....it’s Potter.”

———

Sat on the floor watching your little boy laugh as he plays with his interactive animal book, you occasionally look out the window anxiously waiting to see EZ and Angel arrive any minute. After telling him what happened, he instructed you to meet him at the clubhouse where he’d take you to his dad’s just in case you were being followed.

Dropping you both off, he didn’t say much as he walked you into the small house. Kissing Omari’s cheek and then your lips, he quickly left again with his brother instantly making you worried. Knowing what was going on, Felipe tried to get your mind off things by offering you food and getting you to talk about yourself or Omari, which worked but not for long.

Now over three hours later, it was dark outside and neither you nor Felipe had heard anything from the brothers.

Motorcycles humming outside, you peer out the window to see Angel and EZ slowly making their way to the front of the house causing you to sigh in relief. However, your worries quickly returned seeing both tiredly trudge through the front door and the front of EZ’s grey shirt crimson with blood.

“What happened?!,” you ask rushing to examine him for any other injuries.

“Calm down, it’s not mine,” he answers bringing your hands to his lips with a small smile. “Just had to save this one as always.”

“Save me? Pretty sure that’s not how it went at all but ok. And I’m good too, thanks for asking.” Shaking his head Angel picks up your son before sitting down on the couch and flipping through the channels on the outdated tv. “You care about your tio don’t you man?”

Little hands pulling his hair as he giggles, Angel lets out a small yelp trying to loosen his strong grip.

“Omari be nice,” you laugh before returning your attention back to your boyfriend. “Here, let me help you clean up.” Leading him to the bathroom, you close the door behind you as he removes his leather vest and shirt before sitting on the toilet.

“Try not to cry this time alright?”

“Psh, whatever,” he lightly chuckles resting his large hands on the back of your legs. A comfortable silence falls over you while you stand between his legs carefully cleaning the blood from his scars. Although you had grown used to these moments being with him for a while now, that still didn’t take away the ache you always felt seeing him hurt.

“You and Omari might want to stay with your mom for a while,” he speaks just above a whisper.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? You saw what happened today Y/N, I don’t want you guys hanging around for it to happen again.”

“If it happens again,” you correct making him roll his eyes as he stands up.

“Now’s not the time to be naive, I’m driving you tomorrow. Your stuff is already packed waiting at the trailer.” Reaching for the door, you stand in his way planting yourself against the worn looking wood with arms crossed over your chest.

“Last time I checked, you’re Omari’s father not mine.”

“Y/N move.”

“No. I’m not afraid of Potter or the men under him, he’s all talk.”

“And how do you know?”

“Because if he really wanted to do something he would’ve done it then and there. I mean think about it they had me at my most vulnerable state with no where to go and no way to defend myself,” you explain receiving an exasperated sigh from EZ as his hand rubs down his face.

“It was a warning. Yea they didn’t do anything when they could’ve, but they wanted to scare you into telling them what they wanted to know and intimidate both of us with what they could do.”

“Well it didn’t work,” you reply guiding his chin to look at you. “Ezekiel I knew what I was getting into when we started talking and I’m still here. If it ever gets to the point where I don’t feel safe or fear for our son’s safety then we’ll leave, but until then I’m not letting Potter get to me. Plus do you think it would be easy for us to just leave after all this time?”

Placing both hands on either side of your head, he slightly bends down leaving his face inches from yours. “I’m not saying it would be easy, but if it needs to be done then that’s it bellita.”

“And when it needs to be done it will be.” Connecting your lips with his, your hands roam from his bare chest to the nape of his neck while his wrap around your body bringing you closer.

“We’re gonna need to put you in a new apartment too,” he says separating his lips from yours as his fingers graze up and down your spine.

“Hopefully your dad is okay with me staying here for a while longer then.”

“Here? What about the trailer?”

“I think the constant revving of motorcycles and occasional parties might not be ideal for a baby to be around.”

“True, you’re probably right,” you both laugh before being interrupted by loud knocking.

“Aye I hate to interrupt your probably intimate moment in there, but your kid is hungry and I’m not sure if it’s for what I can give him or what only mom can,” Angel explains as Omari fusses in his arms. “Relax man I’m trying to get her out here.”

“I’m gonna shower, you better go ahead before he starts pulling his hair again,” he smiles kissing your temple.

Opening the door, you carefully take Omari from his hands tickling under his chin to make him laugh. “Okay my baby lets get you fed.”

“The amount of strength he has that’s not a baby, that’s a tiny grown man,” Angel adds making you laugh.

Tags: @crushed-pink-petals-writes @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @renfrewscorner @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @secretmysteriousperson @plokyu23

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[ariesauthor]

Starstruck

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

warnings: a brief mention of violence and torture (typical unsub stuff), Just flirting....for now??

word count: 1.9K

a/n: This is my first fanfic so I’m a little nervous, so sorry if it’s kinda rough around the edges. If anyone asks then I’ll make a continuation. Also, I’m sorry if there’s an error in grammar or in the description of the burlesque scene, I’m not an expert in either.

summary: The stars of the nightlife in NYC are being targeted and during the BAU’s investigation Spencer meets a flirty burlesque dancer 

Dr. Reid didn’t think this case was going to be any different from the usual ones the BAU receives but he would later find out how wrong he was. On the jet ride over to New York City, the team goes over the basics of the case.

“So this unsub has been torturing, sexually assaulting, and disfiguring popular women of the nightlife scene”, Penelope briefs on the computer screen. “The first victim was a popular stripper in a high-class strip club. And the second was the #1 hostess in an exclusive hostess bar.“

“All their hair has been cut off and their clothes have been taken off as well”, Morgan observes from the crime scene photos. Emily goes on to add, “he’s definitely angry at them, he goes out of his way to humiliate them”.

“These women are most likely unattainable to this man, he probably has experienced rejection in the past and when these women they reject him, he takes them by force”, Rossi concludes. The team nods in agreement.

Derek turns to the laptop, “Babygirl, is there anything else that these women have in common besides similarity in careers?”

“Hmm, there’s quite a lot of stuff, these women shopped at the same online retailers, frequented the same establishments, it will take some time to find anything noteworthy but when I do I’ll let you know in a flash, good luck lovelies!” And with that Garcia ends the video call.

When the team landed in New York and set up, they split up into units. Hotch and Rossi went to the coroner’s office to visit the bodies of all three victims. JJ and Emily stayed in the station to question the family of the victims. That left Morgan and Reid to visit the establishments each victim worked at.

As Morgan and Reid walk up to the SUV they call from Garcia, “Please tell me you found something sweetheart because we are getting squat.”

“Ok sugar, so since you guys said this guy would need some serious cash just to lay eyes on the victims, I looked at any other establishments that have the same sale rate and popularity as these places and found a burlesque club not far from you. And to top it all off I looked into that club to see if there was any connection with the victims and found a post on social media that one of the victims posted when they attended a show together .”

Morgan and Reid shared a look before asking, “What show were they attending?”

“It looks like it was a show that’s held for the most popular girl at the club. Her name is Y/N L/N and she’s there tonight for a show, sending you the address now.”

“Thanks Mama,” Derek says before turning to Reid, “Let’s go”.

~At the Club~

The pair flashed their badges at the entrance as the security guard let them pass and walk down the narrow steps. Upon arrival into the main area, Morgan walked to the bar on the right towards the bartender.

“Is the manager here? We would like to talk to Y/N L/N.”

The other bartender in the back laughed, “Get in line buddy.”

Morgan showed his badge, “I’m Special Agent Morgan and this is Dr. Reid. It’s important.” The guy in the back widens his eyes before turning back to a customer.

The first bartender responded,” Yeah I can get the manager for you but it will take some time before you can talk to Y/N, she’s about to perform soon. Wait here.” He puts down the towel he was holding and disappears backstage. Just when he does, the flashing lights shut off and a sole spotlight hits the center of the stage. Suddenly, trumpets sound from the music and the curtains pull back to reveal the most gorgeous girl Spencer has ever seen.

A kiss on the hand May be quite continental But diamonds are a girl's best friend

She was wearing a lingerie set that dripped in rhinestone fringe coupled with jewelry and heels that sparkled in the spotlight. Around her lower back and held up by her arms was a fluffy white shawl that was flung behind her as she began dancing. Her deep red lips lipsynced the lyrics and revealed a dazzling smile that stopped the heart of anyone she sent it to.

“Uhh, Morgan do you think that’s Y/N?”, Spencer’s voice raises an octave, looking at him in shock before returning to look at the stunning girl dancing across the stage as cheers erupt from the crowd. Many men raised from their seats and outstretched their hands, some of which had the honor of being reciprocated by Y/N’s delicate ones.

“I think so Big Boy” Morgan replies with a slight smile, the two never breaking their gaze away from her.

But square-cut or pear-shaped These rocks don't lose their shape Diamonds are a girl's best friend

Y/N began to step down the side stairs of the stage and walk amongst the audience. She would trace a hand across someone’s shoulder or cheek. Playfully blowing a kiss or sitting on someone’s lap. Slowly she moved across the room, getting closer and closer to the bar Spencer and Derek were located. Just as she was dancing near the closest table to the bar, the two heard a voice to their right.

“Are you guys the feds?” The two then turn around to face the manager.

“Yes, that’s us.”

“Follow me then.” As the agents follow the manager to the side entrance for backstage, Spencer caught one last glimpse of the beautiful girl five feet away, he could have sworn they made eye contact as she sent him a wink. Spencer unknowingly gulped.

. . . . .

Y/N was exhausted as the curtains closed. Just as she was about to reach for a water bottle extended to her from the stagehand, the manager walked up to her followed by two men.

Now, her job is to literally dance in front of a crowd in sexy clothing.  But having a handsome buff man and a pretty boy approach her while she’s in lingerie and sweaty from a performance made her just a little self-conscious. You recognized the one on the right when you made eye contact with him earlier, he was even cuter up close.

The manager gestures to the men behind her, “Y/N, these men would like to talk to you”.

The two show their FBI badge but the one on the right accidentally holds his upside down, causing you to giggle. He looks startled and confused before the buff man on the right speaks, “Nice to meet you, I’m Special Agent Derek Morgan and this is Dr. Spencer Reid” the one now known as Dr. Reid forms a shy smile as he raises his hand, “we’re part of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“We’re here about the recent murders of Amanda Carlisle and Kayla Mcgann, did you know them?”

Your face softened, “Yes I did, I was really sad to hear the news, it’s horrible what happened to them.”

Morgan sent you a sympathetic look. “Would you mind if we asked a couple of questions?” You looked up at him. “No not at all, over here please.” You led them to your vanity and sat down.

“May I ask how you know them?” Morgan started. “We became friends a year ago at a New Years' Eve Party. Kayla approached me when she recognized me from a billboard. Then she introduced me to Amanda.”

The two listened before continuing. “Did they attend a show of yours a couple weeks back?” You nod and explained how it was the first time you had center stage so Amanda and Kayla went to go cheer you on.

The two agents asked some more questions about Kayla and Amanda, like where do they go, who do they know, but they found nothing significant or something they didn’t already know. During this time, it was mostly Agent Morgan who asked you questions, but that didn’t stop you from staring at Dr. Reid, which was probably the reason why he was so speechless.

Morgan clears his throat to grab Reid’s attention before turning back to face you, “Did you know of anyone who would want to harm Amanda and Kayla, someone they rejected?”

“Unfortunately, there’s many like that. That kind of stuff happens pretty often in our line of work. All types of guys approached them asking for a date or one-nightstands. Many of which get turned down. It’s why those two hired personal bodyguards after they started getting more attention.” You noticed the two agents exchange a look before Dr. Reid turns to face you.

“Did they have the same bodyguard?”, he licks his lips in concentration, not noticing how much the action affected you.  “U-um no they didn’t, but they did go through the same hiring service. I have a card from them, Kayla gave it to me in case I wanted to try it out myself.” You turn around and bend down to look in a drawer in your vanity, knowing damn well that your clothes didn’t leave much for the imagination. As you pulled out the card you turned around to see a very red Dr. Reid. As soon as you caught him staring, he averted his eyes. “Where’s Agent Morgan?” you ask.

“He ah-um, stepped aside to answer a call.” You smiled mischievously and said “uh-huh” as you casually walk up to the agent. You extended the card between your two fingers to which he gently received. He mumbles a quiet “thank you”.

You notice him nervously shift his weight to the other foot, gaining more confidence, you decide to lean a little closer to him. You watch as his adam apple bobbed when he swallowed at the movement. To break the silence he asks, “so, you don’t have a bodyguard?”

You stand up straight and shrug, “didn’t feel the need to.”

He finally looks back at you, his eyes squint slightly as he licks his lips again in concentration. He looks you up and down, unintentionally checking you out. “I assume you’re just as popular as Amanda and Kayla were, if not more.”

You blushed at the compliment and roaming eyes, “I regularly take self-defense classes, I feel safer by myself than being around a man.” He nodded in understanding.

“But if it was you then that’s a whole different story,” you mused as you leaned towards him again, this time slightly touching his shoulder. He glanced at his shoulder then met your eyes, to which you instinctively smile. He could see why you were popular, your charm and allure was unexplainable and interacting with you felt effortless yet exciting.

Just then his colleague yells back “that was Hotch, we gotta head back and deliver the profile”.  

The younger agent nods and turns back to you, handing you a card, “thank you for your time, if you remember anything else or have any questions please call us.”

“I’ll be sure to, wouldn’t want to pass up meeting you again.” You remove your hand. “Feel free to come again. I’ll give you a free show.” before sending him a wink.  

Stunned and embarrassed, all Reid can do is nod before turning to around to leave. He bumps into someone in the process, apologizing frantically as he catches up to Morgan.

You watch as Derek pats Spencer’s back.  A presence comes up behind you as you hear, “I didn’t know that was your type.” Another burlesque dancer, Nancy, stands beside you to follow your gaze. “That hot beefcake was standing right there and you chose to flirt with the cute nerdy boy. No wonder you turn down all those hot CEOs, you’re into cute FBI agents.”

“Specifically, THAT cute FBI agent” you laugh. Nancy laughs with you as you two walk to get ready for the next performance.

[scarlettaagni]

have I elaborated on moral quandaries between Zola and Missy here yet?

a while ago i was thinking about the inherent conflict of interest of a human who works on a farm who interested in alien life, biology and all life in general befriending an alien who is on this planet specifically to kill other humans

Missy is new to this. she was raised somewhat differently from her peers, and as a result is naturally curious and more accepting and compromising than most Predators, other Young Bloods included. but it’s a society of perpetuating stoicism, especially in dangerous situation where you must not show compassion or allow yourself in vulnerable positions, so she holds that front well.

Missy is just a bit nicer than any other Predator, but I wanna show the culture shock and struggle of her trying to find even ground with this unexpected human ally, who disapproves of what she’s here for and what she’s doing. even though Missy is nice for a Yautja, she is still a Yautja who was raised, even though unconventionally, in Yautja society, so letting go of stuff she’s been especially pressured into internalizing and is simply a part of her now should be a bumpy journey

Zola doesn’t want to put their rapport in jeopardy, because when else will a human possibly form an informative and positive relationship with a Yautja, and when else will this occur with another highly sapient alien species? and she’s come to see Missy is an individual with her own worries and personality and quirks that can be contrary to what Missy tells her about her species, and that they relate to each other than is apparent to both of them. so she tries to subtly appeal to Missy’s more understanding and compromising nature to tone down the murder a little

while teaching Missy things about earth fauna and agriculture, she tries to show her the value of life on earth with baby animals and teaching Missy to handle them gently, which she very much enjoys

but it doesn’t work, because these are defenseless animals and humans are intelligent prey who can be formidable foes. and these animals, like chickens, are killed anyways for food.

Zola suggests that Missy “use her powers for good” like an alien Batman

which Missy respectfully answers with “hm. that’s stupid, so no <3”

they argue about good and evil, and Missy reveals that while Yautja are well aware of these concepts, these concepts are completely irrelevant to them, especially in a human context. these concepts are relative. good and evil are dependent on what side you’re on. honor and dishonor are rigid concepts with few exceptions, and they do not change depending on what side you’re on

anyone who kills with a weapon is a target to them, it doesn’t matter if the person is good or evil. and why would a Yautja bother doing “good” when they don’t even live here? they will outlive any human they choose to save or spare. they won’t stay on the planet longer than a year, then return in some decades for another year. they aren’t there to save humans, they’re there to hunt.

A scene i’ve just recently thought about would a peak in the moral combat, a situation where under pressure in a dangerous situation, Zola manages to convince Missy to go out of her way to help ordinary citizens and then tells her as a compliment “you just did a very human thing”, thinking Missy has finally understood the value of human life. realistically, Zola knows Missy must kill to get back home, but hopes that in addition to killing the armed and dangerous, Missy will also help the unarmed and generally lighten up on the murder

but that phrase shakes Missy to her core. she’s already been derided for being soft, for large parts of her training. she didn’t have to save those people. technically the code won’t stop her, but it was unwise and she did what a human told her to do, just because Zola asked and was an extenuating companion (at this point)

she just kinda snaps after ruminating on the phrase for a short while, angry that Zola is trying to stray her away from all her hard training, getting her to do things people have deridingly told her she would end up doing, trying to change her, using her like she’s some toy or specimen, sabotaging her mission even if unintentionally. Missy may have a passing interest in learning about humans, but she doesn’t want to be one and the idea of being like one goes against everything. and yet, Missy can’t help but long for a more human kind of affection, cause she certainly isn’t getting the support from her own society. Zola treats Missy nicer than most of her species does (family and Zazin not included) and it confuses her, a stranger from a species she hunts to be so kind to her despite what she does. it’s stressing her out to be pressured and tugged in all these directions. it’s kind of a wake up call, of how crazy it is she’s just hanging out with this human and bringing her along

basically that whole thing puts Missy in a “i need to kill something to feel manly again” mood

though, she gets lonely and returns to Zola and they decide to stop trying to convince one another of their side. they can choose of their own accord what to reconcile with, but no more argument making. Missy plays into Zola’s wishes by being gentler with bystanders in her way and disarming humans Zola deems not a threat rather than killing them outright. Missy accepts that she really likes open affection and reconciles how she feels about “human softness” and how she can relate to Zola, and on demonstrating her gratitude and love for her through both Yautja and more human-like ways. she even applies some of this to other Yautja, such as projecting her brother Kudos and father Halkrath onto Scorpion and Lurker (two strangers from a completely different clan) as she does with Zola’s brother (though with Lo’bane) and father. Zola focuses on helping Missy through her troubles (emotional, philosophical, etc) and works on keeping her safe, healed, and getting her home as safely as multiple Yautja hunts in a row can allow

bluh it’s late and I can feel myself slipping off the deep end into incomprehensibility but does that make sense?

[nonbinaryresource]

ive been thinking abt this for a little while & have been needing to ask someone abt it. i am nb & have always considered myself trans but recently ive not been vibing with the trans label bc i am so sick of seeing ppl exclude & invalidate nb ppl. ik that i shouldnt stop doing smth just bc other ppl r being assholes but its so tiring to see ppl constantly say how u dont belong or arent valid. srry this is long & kinda rambly i just dont really know how to feel abt it

I will directly address your ask, but I’m going to start by telling you a story about my journey with identifying as asexual and queer.

.

When I was about 11, my friends suddenly started drooling over magazines and calling people hot, and I didn’t know what it was, but I knew I did not feel whatever it is my friends were feeling.

Until I was about 16/17, this part of me remained a mystery to me and to my friends. I never had crushes, I never found people hot, I never liked complimenting people physically, I was uncomfortable with sex on TV, and I didn’t even like platonic touch. Now my group of friends were all repressed and closeted queer folk, so I didn’t have to deal with “being left behind” as my friends dated. But the later we got into high school, the more my friends began discovering and exploring their sexualities.  A freshman became a part of our friend group and was openly trans and gay. One friend came out as gay. Another as bi. They started commenting more and more about other’s looks and having crushes.

Still, there was nothing on my end. My friends used to think I was just being vague and secretive because this is what I tended to be like. I don’t think they’ve ever realized how much of it was that I truly didn’t know or understand what my lack of sexual feelings meant or that it could even mean anything. I used to just consider it a “nothingness” of myself. Until, by complete chance, I came across the term asexual. I immediately connected with it. It explained so much that I didn’t even know I needed explained.

I came out quickly after that and I was really excited and happy and proud to know who I was and what how I felt meant. My friends were great and supportive. My mom was a little ignorant but overall supportive. AVEN was great and a community for me. But if I tried to talk about it anywhere else online…

Well, the effects of how people treated me would fester for years. See, I came out as asexual before exclusionism (the specific movement of anti-aro and anti-ace erasure and gatekeeping from lgbt+ spaces) was a movement or a named thing. Yet exclusionist attitudes were exactly what I faced. My queer friends all completely accepted me as one of them and I helped co-run our school’s new GSA with the rest of them. But online, as a teen, I was facing 30+ year olds telling me I wasn’t queer and that I was just trying to seem special and that I needed to shut up about my asexuality and my experiences and that I wasn’t valid and that asexuality wasn’t a real thing and that even if asexuality was a real thing it wasn’t valid and it certainly didn’t matter.

I graduated high school and went to college and was no longer really in touch with my group of friends. I therefore completely cut myself off from any lgbt+/queer community, even though a friend invited me to join the college’s queer association. I stopped participating so much in online asexual spaces. I become wrapped up in other things.

A couple of years went by and a lot of things in my life changed. By chance, mod applications for a blog about aro and ace headcanons for a fandom I enjoyed came across my dash. I had extra time on my hands and thought I could help, so I applied and was accepted. This increased my exposure to the aspec community again and thrust me back in… just around the time exclusionism was becoming a specific and named movement of bigotry.

At the same time I resisted these ideals, I was also still hurt and unhealed from what I’d gone through as a teen. I internalized a lot of the hatred and gatekeeping. I was so hurt and so tired. I just wanted to be able to exist in peace. And people I considered myself one of were harassing me and dismissing even my biromanticism. So I struggled with my identity and my asexuality. I did not specifically become an exclusionist, but I turned my back on the lgbt+ community and spaces. I did not consider myself lgbt+ because I learned that doing so only brought pain and upset and made me feel alone and isolated. I didn’t speak a lot on exclusionism or inclusionism, but at some point I did make a plea to my fellow aspecs to just let the larger community go and be our own community and accept that maybe we could be straight. I did it out of desperation and hurt, wanting to stop feeling targeted and attacked and to stop seeing the fighting on my dash and in the tags. I just wanted us all to be happy and feel accepted and supported.

On that post, one wonderfully kind and patient person opened up a discussion with me, explaining their own hurts over exclusionism and being so damn exhausted of them and fellow aspecs being targeted and excluded and written out and not supported and feeling like they had to split their asexuality from their other queer identities and how being asexual was a part of them and how it had strongly shaped their experiences, especially with realizing and coming to terms with the other parts of their queer identity. And through their raw honesty I came to realize… I had never stopped to process the harassment I had faced and the pain and hurt that cut me so deeply.

It was a changing point for me. I realized that I had handled my pain in a bad way and had ended up lashing out at other aspecs instead of the people who were actually hurting me. I realized how much I had hurt myself and held myself back and cut myself down and dismissed parts of myself trying to fit into the box exclusionists had laid out for me, as if I could ever made them happy enough to stop harassing me and just let me exist. I cut myself down for them, but the truth is that exclusionists don’t just want aspecs “out” of the community. They want to hurt us. They want us to hurt. They want us to doubt ourselves. They want to feel strong and powerful, and they feel they can achieve this through bullying us. Perhaps some, like myself, are trying to appeal to their oppressors by pointing out another vulnerable group they could target more/instead. They are passing on hurt instead of standing up to it and so they are actually festering in hurt instead of changing anything.

Today, I am a staunch inclusionist. I understand myself and the issues aspecs face much better. I am a more compassionate person regarding the confusion and upset aros and aces have over their identity and their place in the world. I feel more stable and confident regarding my identity as an asexual - and now as an aromantic - queer person who is lgbt+.

But it was a long, hard, difficult journey to get here. It was full of a lot of turmoil. I wish I would have had a happier journey where I felt more supported and accepted, and I hope I can help provide more stability and support for future generations to not have to go through what I did.

.

My point (or one among a few, anyway) is that I deeply and personally understand how you are feeling and the decision facing you now. As someone who went through a very similar experience, my advice to you is to take care of yourself and to prioritize your mental health.

It’s okay if you can’t handle identifying as trans right now. Maybe you do need some space from the label (and definitely from the hatred and gatekeeping). Maybe you need to pull back from certain communities or blogs or discussions.

However, I will say that not identifying as trans may not bring the peace you desire. It may end up making you feel even more isolated. Not identifying as LGBT+ certainly didn’t help me. It was reactionary and it only made me feel like there were less spaces for me. That said, you may find peace in this. But I think the bigger action to take is to separate yourself from those who are saying harmful things more than to separate yourself from a label you feel really suits you. Use your block button liberally. Don’t force yourself to partake in spaces where gatekeeping is allowed or encouraged. Follow and listen to more people who are inclusive.

I think burnout like this is unfortunately pretty common. You do not have to force yourself to face this hatred or exhaustion because you think it’s the right thing to do. It’s okay to pull back and just take care of yourself. Just work on some self-care. Work on building up a community of people around you who don’t resort to bigotry and hatred and exorsexism and gatekeeping and identity policing. Engage only with what you can actually, honestly handle.

We will confront and move past this bigotry only by acting as a united front. The responsibility for improving things isn’t on any one person’s shoulders. And no one needs to be on the front lines 100% of the time, especially at the cost of their own wellbeing. Take care of yourself and rest now before you completely burn out and break down.

You do not have anything to prove, okay? I have both hope and faith that there is a lot more to your journey - a lot more good things and a lot more happiness and belonging. Take whatever time it is you need to help heal yourself and recover from the hurt and harassment that’s been plaguing you. You are important and you matter, much moreso than whatever label you use at whatever point in time. It will be okay.

I am here for you.

~Pluto

[marril96]

The Distance Between Us

Chapter 22: All Roads Lead to Scotland

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: You and Rowena finally have a heart to heart.

A/N: Huge thanks to @hell-is-empty-the-devils-are-us for medical info on Scotland.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

The last day of school, which was usually easy going and lax, had, for lack of a better world, been a mess.

The fight — or rather what was left of it — was officially ended by intruding teachers. The crowd dispersed, students sent on their merry ways. The parties involved were dragged to the Principal's office, each by a separate teacher to ensure the fight wouldn't continue, and their parents were promptly called.

You hadn't seen Crowley for the rest of the day.

Olivette and her posse had started the rumor mill right away. Why wait for the new semester when they could start their work while their memory — well, Olivette's memory for she was the only one of them who was actually there for the fight. Or rather, for its conclusion — was still fresh?

They'd tried to convince the student body that Crowley had attacked Lucifer because he was jealous of his popularity, and had tried to spice it up by adding bits and pieces about his unhealthy, unbrotherly feelings for Rowena, who, the poor dear, was torn between her own loser brother and her popular boyfriend.

No one bought it.

Not a single person.

Not even the usual gossip whores who ate up all the shit they heard regardless of its validity.

Everyone had witnessed the fight and its sequel starring you, Crowley, Rowena, and Olivette, with guest appearances from Lucifer.

They knew Lucifer was abusing Rowena.

They knew Crowley had beaten the shit out of him as payback.

They knew Lucifer and Olivette were screwing around behind Rowena's back, and that you were the one who'd outed them to the entire school.

They all knew, and they are it up like candy, hungry for more, more, more.

You hoped the impending holidays would calm everything down, let the dust settle. Allow for the new semester to be a new beginning.

Being one of the main characters in gossip stories wasn't how you'd imagined your Senior year of high school. Or any part of your life.

You weren't made for that kind of life.

Crowley had texted you later that day. He hadn't said much other than that he was okay and wasn't in as much trouble as he thought he would be. And that Lucifer had gotten his ass handed to him by, of all people, Crowley and Rowena's mother.

Crazy protectiveness seemed to run in the MacLeod family.

From what Crowley had told you, Rowena was okay. She wasn't talking much, but she was okay. Locked up in her room. Away from Lucifer.

For good, you hoped, prayed to anyone — anything — that would listen.

She deserved better than him. Deserved love, kindness, gentleness. Everything someone the likes of Lucifer couldn't provide her for it wasn't in his nature.

He was an animal.

A predator.

He used, took advantage of, abused. Ruined and shattered. Destroyed everything he touched, everything he laid his eyes on, like a savage.

He didn't deserve a girl like Rowena.

Despite telling yourself that it was early, that she probably needed more time, you found yourself on the MacLeods' doorway two days after school had ended. You were freezing, the cold air biting at your skin, seeping into your bones. It was torture, but you didn't let it discourage you from seeing Rowena.

You needed to explain yourself. Needed to tell her why you'd betrayed her, why you'd stabbed her in the back. Needed her to understand the last thing you wanted was to hurt her, even though that was exactly what you'd ended up doing.

You were her friend.

You cared about her.

You loved her.

Her ignoring your messages wasn't going to change that.

At the very least you wanted her to hear your side of the story.

If, after you explained yourself, she still wanted to pretend you didn't exist — if she wanted to cut you out of her life — you would respect her wish. It would hurt like hell, but you would respect it.

But first you hoped with all you had, from the bottom of your racing heart, that she would be willing to hear you out.

Ten minutes.

That was all you needed.

Afterwards, she could do what she wished, no matter how much it hurt you.

Her life, her choice.

Rowena opened after the second knock. Clad in pants and a glittery shirt, she left her bruises (and there were plenty; over her neck, down her arms, more no doubt concealed by the clothing) uncovered. No use hiding them now that the truth was out in the open in all its ugly, unpleasant glory.

"What are you doing here?"

Her tone was curt, stern, straight to the point. Making it clear she wasn't happy to see you, the sentiment confirmed by the narrowing of her eyes.

You swallowed back the hurt, clearing your throat before uttering in your weakest, smallest voice, "I wanna talk."

You understood her anger, understood her disappointment at her friend telling her brother about something she'd shared with you in confidence, but it still stung as if she'd slapped you in the face.

A slap would have surely hurt less.

"Please," you added, noting her raised eyebrow.

Rowena looked you over. Observed you from head to toe like a microscope, taking in every detail, every little bit of you. Then she sighed and stepped aside.

"Thank you," you said, pulling on a smile. Small, tight, but warm enough.

If she noticed it, she didn't acknowledge it. Her face remained cold as the air outside.

Ouch.

You definitely would have preferred to be hit than deal this kind of treatment. At least then the pain would be real, tangible.

This way it just hurt.

Everywhere.

Nowhere.

You supposed you deserved that. Rowena could hold a mean grudge. You knew that when you'd decided to reveal her secret.

It was worth it.

You stood by that sentiment.

Still…

It fucking hurt!

You hung your coat and followed her up. Gavin was standing at the top of the stairs, grinning happily. A little bundle of joy, innocent to the darkness of this world.

"Hi, Y/N!" he greeted.

"Hi, Gavin," you said, flashing him a bright smile. "How you doing today?"

"Okay," he said in that pretend mature voice children put on in attempts to sound older. Silly, but adorable. "Rowena gave me sweeties and she said not to tell mummy!"

"My, what a great sister you have!"

"She's the best!"

She was.

She really, truly was.

Rowena smiled at the compliments. A bit of color splashed her cheeks; not much, but enough to flush them a warm, healthy pink. "Gavin, love, why don't you go back to your room and eat some more sweeties? Y/N and I need some grown-up time."

"Are you going to study?"

"Aye. You know how important that is."

Gavin nodded. Rowena led him to his room while you got settled on the bed in hers. She was so adorable with Gavin. So sweet. It was hard to believe it was the same girl who shouted atrocities at Crowley and joined in on bullying.

Would she still do that?

Would she and Crowley still argue like rabid dogs?

Would her friends invite her to take part in bullying — or would she be their target instead of consort this time?

"So," Rowena said, shaking you from your thoughts. She closed the door behind you and crossed her arms over her chest. "Talk."

You sucked in a breath for courage. "I'm sorry for telling Crowley."

She quirked up an eyebrow, skeptical. "Are you?" Her tone was sharp as a knife, cutting straight through your heart.

"I am."

Well, you thought, kinda.

She scoffed. "Right."

You clenched your jaw. "I am sorry."

You were.

You truly, genuinely — from the bottom of your aching heart — were.

But you also weren't.

Not completely.

Rowena, clever as she was, well acquainted with you after months of getting to know you in this very room, could sense it. Could smell it all over you like badly concealed perfume.

"I know you're mad — you have every right to be — but I never wanted to hurt you," you went on to explain, to elaborate as best as you could for the real reason — the one that made your heart ache with every beat, that tore at your soul like the sharpest knives — could never leave your mouth. She couldn't know that you loved her. That every second from the time you'd found out about what Lucifer had done had been agony, had been fear that burrowed itself deep underneath your skin and wouldn't leave until you knew she was safe. "You have to believe that."

Rowena's eyes met yours for a brief moment before drifting sideways. You made sure to put as much emotion as you could into them, to make it clear that, despite there being more to the story, your reasons were genuine.

"Why should I?"

The coldness in her voice sent a chill down your spine.

"Because I'm your friend."

"A friend wouldn't betray me to my brother."

The nonchalance, however fake — for it was fake, you could tell from a mile away — stung.

"I didn't betray you," you said.

Rowena snorted. Any other time it would have been cute, but now it was just cruel. Unnecessary.

You weren't the villain here.

You weren't the one who'd badmouthed her and had slept with her boyfriend, or the one who'd beaten the hell out of her.

All you'd done was look out for her.

As a friend.

As a…

As something you could only dream of, that could never come to be reality.

"Jesus, Rowena! I just wanted to help you, and you're acting like I killed your mother!"

The words rushed out of you before you could try to stop them, a wild, uneasy storm twisting and turning inside of you, begging to be let out, to roam free. To lash out at her for being so stubborn and refusing to see what was right in front of her.

"I never asked for your help!" Rowena retorted.

A fair point.

Still…

"What was I supposed to do? Stand aside with my arms crossed until her put you in a bodybag?"

She widened her eyes a tad, taken aback. "I can take care of myself."

"I can see that." You got to your feet. Stood to face her. "You know what? I'm not sorry. There. I said it. I'm not sorry I saved your ass because somebody had to!"

If she were affected by your admission, she hid it well. "You couldn't resist the chance to play the hero."

"It's not like that and you know it." You looked her in the eyes. Pierced her with your gaze, intense, pleading. "What if it was me? Wouldn't you wanna help me?"

A flicker of something — understanding? — flashed over her face. It was gone in a split second, features smoothed back to marble coldness. "That's different."

"How is it different?" you asked.

Turning her back to you, she replied, "It just is."

"How? Why?"

Seconds passed, bled into moments. Silence settled over the two of you for almost a minute, loud, deafening. Making it hard to breathe.

You could ask the question a million times — Rowena wouldn't answer. Stubborn as she was, she would never answer.

For the truth was, there was no difference. If roles were reversed, she would have reached out to your loved ones in attempts to save you. She wouldn't have left you to your own devices, especially if you were in danger that could easily turn mortal.

Why couldn't she accept help?

Why couldn't she admit she needed it, needed you, needed Crowley?

Why did she have to be so damn stubborn?

Unless it was about more than just pride. Unless she—

No

It couldn't be.

That wasn't Rowena.

Was it?

The girl you knew knew her worth. Had the world under her feet and let no one and nothing stop her from getting what she wanted.

But there was more to that girl, wasn't it? There was the kindness you'd gotten to know, a clear contrast to the meanness. The sweetness. The patience. And that was just the part of her that lived here in this room, all alone, far away from the world where she had to be cruel to survive.

Which part had she left in Scotland?

What were you missing in the puzzle that was Rowena Macleod?

"There's nothing wrong with accepting help, Rowena," you said. "It doesn't make you weak."

More silence.

Then, in a tight, strained voice, "I don't need your pity."

That was what she thought? That you pitied her?

"It's not pity," you said in a tone you hoped came across clear. "I was just being your friend."

"Right." Disbelief. Pure, unadulterated skepticism.

It hurt. You thought she knew you better than that. "I am your friend, Rowena. I'm sorry that I hurt you, I really am, but if I had to do it again, I would." You set your jaw. Clenched your fists to subdue the anger that flashed through you, hot as fire. "I'd rather you hate me than keep getting hurt."

Rowena whipped around to face you, her eyes like daggers stabbing into yours. "Och, save the drama for the stage!"

"You think I'm lying?" Your voice trembled, betrayed the hurt that ripped at you like a thousand knives. "I'm not! I—"

I love you.

The words froze in your throat. Stopped in their tracks as if someone — something — had grabbed your neck and squeezed, hard, bruising.

You couldn't tell her.

She couldn't know.

Not now.

Not ever.

Breathing in deeply, you asked, "Why is it so hard for you to accept that people care about you?"

"Because they don't!" Rowena snapped, eyes glistening with tears she tried her hardest to hold back. "Nobody cares! Caring is weakness. Love is weakness."

What?

"You don't believe that," you said, more to yourself than her. A plea, weak, lowly, that you'd heard wrong. That it was a misunderstanding.

She gave a chuckle, a bitter one. "Darling, if you got to know the real world, you would believe it, too."

"What does that mean?"

"It means…" She sucked in a breath, willed herself to calm. "It means people are arseholes. They say they care, but they're lying."

"I'm not lying."

You would never lie to her.

Not about something this important.

She narrowed her eyes. Looked deep into your hurt ones. "You're lying to yourself."

"Is that what you want?" you challenged. "Would it be easier for you if I was liar? Are you that stubborn?"

"Don't you patronize me, lass!"

"Hit a nerve, have I?" Features softening, you asked, "Who did this to you?"

That took her off guard. "What?"

"Who made you distrust people so much? Someone had to."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Who was it?" you insisted. "An old friend? Boyfriend? Who was it that made you so cold?"

"You don't know anything about me!" Rowena shouted, defensive.

You were on the right track, then.

"I know you're not a bitch. You pretend, but you're not," you told her. "I know you're a good friend. A good tutor. That you like shitty old movies."

That prompted her to chuckle. "My movies are works or art," she said, head raised high.

"If you say so." You let out a chuckle or your own, then continued, "You like weird glittery clothes and matching makeup. Somehow you make it look—" sexy "—awesome."

She smiled. "Well, I am quite awesome."

"You totally are." And I love you for it. Oh, how you wished she could know! "What happened to you?"

Rowena's smile withered. She glanced to her feet, avoiding your eyes.

"It's okay," you said softly. "You can tell me."

Tears spilled down her face, dripping onto her bare toes. Step by careful step, she lowered herself on the bed.

"You're right — there's lots of things I don't know about you," you said, sitting down next to her. She looked at you and you wanted to weep for there was so much sadness in her eyes, so much pain that it hurt — it physically hurt — to sit there, unable to do anything to make it go away. Unable to help her when she clearly needed it. "But I'd like to know. I'd like to know everything about you."

"Why?" she asked, suspicion — cautiousness — creeping into her tone.

"Because I'm your friend," you said for the umpteenth time, and were willing to say it as many times more. You were willing to shout it from the rooftops like a maniac — anything for her to get it in her thick head that what you felt for her was genuine. If she only knew how much. "I want to understand you."

Her cheeks flushed at your admission. Carefully, tentatively, she asked, "What if you don't like what you hear?"

"I liked you when I still thought you were a bitch," you reminded her, prompting a small chuckle. "I'm sure whatever it is I don't know won't change my opinion of you."

Nothing she could possibly say would change what you thought of her. It wouldn't change your feelings, wouldn't change the shift in the beats of your heart whenever you came near her. Wouldn't change the tingles that shot through you every time your hands touched, or the rush that came over you whenever she gave you that big, encouraging smile and accompanied it with a compliment.

Whatever had happened — whatever had been done to her — could, if anything, only make you love her more.

Rowena fell into silence for a moment. When she spoke up, her voice was cold, distant. As if someone else were telling the story and she was nothing but an observer, an overly invested listener. "It happened back in Scotland."

You gave a small nod. "Crowley told me you were bullied."

Well, that it was a possibility. He'd never outright confirmed it, but you could tell he'd had his suspicions.

She laughed bitterly. "He doesn't know the half of it."

You'd figured as much.

"I wasn't very popular," she started her story. "I wasn't popular at all. People either pretended I didn't exist or mocked me." A flicker of pain flashed across her face for a split second; an old, never healed wound reopening, sprinkled with salt, bleeding profusely. "They thought I was pretentious because I did ballet."

"That's ridiculous," you said.

Ballet — any kind of dance, really — was art. Beauty and grace and power all in one.

Children could be cruel little bastards.

"To them it made perfect sense," Rowena said sourly. "I used to love to dance. But, as I got older, I started resenting it because it put a target on my back."

That's wrong, you thought, heart clenching with sympathy. Very, very wrong.

They had no right to do that to her.

"It wasn't just the ballet," she elaborated, taking a short pause to breathe. "They thought my nose was funny."

You thought it was beautiful; crooked and a tad hooked, unique in the masses. Peculiar. One of a kind. A lovely, perfect little imperfection.

"My family was poor. We couldn't afford the best clothes. Sometimes my mum made clothes for me. They were good clothes — they weren't rags — but I still stood out."

"I think it's awesome that your mom made you stuff," you said.

"She's very skilled," she admitted with a tinge of pride. "Compared to other girls, I was quite plain. Boys weren't interested in me."

You wanted to tell her it wasn't true, that, if there was disinterest, it was their issue rather than hers, but allowed her to continue.

"They still touched me. My arse. My boobs. Everywhere. To 'give me a taste because I would never get the real thing.' The girls thought it was funny. They spread rumors. I became the school's slut before I even had my first kiss."

She wrapped her shaky arms around her chest protectively, the memories, fresh again, eating at her like acid. Devouring her alive one little bit at a time.

You wanted to hug her. God, you wanted to hug her. Wanted to wrap your arms around her, hold her tight, and never let go. Wanted to tell her it was okay, that what had happened was their shame, not hers.

She was just a girl born into misfortune, too shy, too clumsy to take on such a big world.

Those people took advantage of that.

If anyone should feel bad, it was them.

"By the time I was in eighth grade, I was sick of everything," Rowena said. "I couldn't take the it anymore. All I wanted was to be liked. I thought, if I could get them to like me, maybe things wouldn't be that bad."

Her jaw tightened. A lump bloomed in her throat; she swallowed it, gulped down hard.

"There were these three siblings. The Loughlins; Catriona, Boyd, and Gideon. Boyd and Gideon always groped me with Catriona's blessing. Everyone gave me a hard time, but those three were the worst. They were popular. Their family was mad rich. They could do whatever they wanted without consequences; no one dared cross them. One time we were alone in a classroom and…"

Her breath hitched. Tears spilled from her eyes like a downpour. A sob threatened to rip free; she swallowed it, willed it back.

"It's okay," you said, laying a hand on her shoulder. A soft, comforting gesture. "It's okay."

She relaxed under your touch. "They were bothering me again and I… offered myself to them." More tears. "I-I just wanted them to leave me alone. I thought if they slept with me, they'd see I'm not that bad." A sour chuckle. "They laughed. Boyd was considering it, but Catriona — she told him it would be cleaner with pigs."

Anger burned at you, red hot, dangerous. You wanted to find those three, grab their necks, and squeeze until they released their very last breath. Wanted to punch them, kick them, hurt them the way they'd hurt Rowena.

They had no right.

Everything they'd done to her, every rumor, every taunt, every unwanted touch — they had no right.

"They told the entire school. Now I wasn't just a slut — I was a prostitute. Everyone started offering me money. Some of the richer kids threw it at me. It was unbearable. And then… then I met Gilroy."

A smile blossomed on her mouth, a sad one, one of longing, of memories that, while painful, hid bits of good in them.

"He was rich. Popular. And he was interested in me. The first boy ever to find me attractive."

First boy with taste, most likely.

"He was Catriona's boyfriend, but that didn't matter to me," she admitted. "I was mad at her and I thought of it as revenge. He was so charming. He promised to leave her 'when the time was right,' and, like a fool, I believed him."

Uh oh.

You didn't like where this was going.

"We'd had three wonderful months together. I loved him with everything I had, and he said he loved me. Then, upon our fourth month, I noticed I was late."

"What?" you uttered, surprised.

"I bought a test. It was positive."

"You were pregnant?"

"Aye," Rowena said, hands instinctively sliding down to her stomach. "I was terrified. I was only fourteen; I was too young to be a mother. But, I thought, if Gilroy wanted the child, we could work it out somehow. I wasn't the first teenager to fall pregnant. It would be difficult, but it wasn't impossible. We loved each other. That was all we needed, right?"

The smile faded from her face, light dying from her eyes in place of glum darkness.

"He didn't want the child. He didn't want me, either, anymore. He thought I'd done it on purpose, to trick him into giving me money. I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen. He said, if I told anyone, he would deny it and no one would believe me. And he was right. Who would believe the school whore that she was impregnated by a popular rich boy who already had a girlfriend?"

You squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "It's fine. It's in the past now."

Years may have passed, but she was still hurt. She was still suffering. What that boy had done would stay with her for the rest of her life.

"That same day I went to the clinic," she said. "Got it taken care of as soon as possible."

"Did you tell anyone?"

"No. Aside from him, and now you, no one knows I've ever been pregnant."

She'd had an abortion at fourteen.

Alone.

Without a friend to hold her hand.

Without family to support her.

Your heart ached for her.

No wonder she'd turned so mean.

Nobody wanted to be around her.

Those who did took advantage of her.

Love had made her week. It had fooled her, took everything from her. Turned her life inside out.

"I was terrified I'd need my mum to sign papers, but law is different there," Rowena said. "Nobody had to know unless I wanted them to."

"Thank you for trusting me with it."

She looked at you, eyes big and so, so green. Sad and beautiful all at once. "You're my friend."

"I am."

If only you could be more.

But, after what you'd heard, after what had happened with Lucifer, you knew she needed time.

It was too soon.

Maybe it always would be.

And you were okay with that.

You could love her from a distance and be her friend for just because the feelings were there didn't mean you had to act on them.

Rowena came first.

Her wellbeing came before your wishes.

"I won't tell anymore," you assured her. "I promise."

"I know." She gulped. "Now do you understand why I couldn't leave Lucifer?"

"You don't need him, Rowena," you told her.

"I do," she said. "Without him and Olivette, I'm nothing. Like I was back in Scotland."

"That's not true." She raised an eyebrow. You sighed. "You weren't popular — so what? They bullied you, and that's on them. You didn't do anything wrong."

"That doesn't matter"

"It does. They took advantage of you."

"And I took advantage of Lucifer and Olivette." She spat their names as if they were dirty, foul.

"Doesn't mean they get to treat you like shit. Those assholes in Scotland had no right, and neither do these two."

Rowena closed her eyes, then, upon opening them, breathed deeply in and out. "What else can I do?"

"Tell them to fuck off," you said, loud and clear. "You're not alone anymore. You have me, and Sam, and Crowley. We're not gonna let them hurt you."

She flinched at that. Her eyes sparkled, brightened up with a new light that lit up within them. A reflection of her soul, healing, hopeful.

"This isn't Scotland, Rowena," you added, allowing your mouth to curl up into a smile. "You have friends here."

"You really mean that," she said in disbelief. You nodded, and she gave a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "Fool."

"I'm willing to take the risk."

You trusted her that much.

She wasn't perfect, far from it, but she was loyal. A good friend. A good person behind the mask she'd put on to protect herself from the evils of the world.

There was potential in her. Opportunities that would do her good, change her life for the better.

All she had to do was take them.

Her face suddenly darkened. "They will turn the school against me."

"They can try," you said, confident. Lucifer and Olivette had influence, but not to that extent. "They're not that powerful."

"They'll make my life hell."

"Again, they can try." Your hand slid down her arm in a soft, gentle caress before taking hold of hers. You squeezed her fingers, wrapped yours tightly against them. Tightened them into a knot, unbreakable, comforting. A wordless promise that you were here, that you wouldn't let them or anyone else lay a finger on her ever again. "I won't let anything happen to you."

She startled, surprised. Looked at you as if you'd just admitted you were in love with her. "You won't?"

"Nope. Think of me as your security guard."

She glanced you over and, teasingly, said, "You, a security guard?"

"I'm tougher than I look," you said in mock defense.

She quirked up an eyebrow. You shrugged, nonchalant.

"What if I don't need your… services?" She purred the word, licked her lips as she uttered it.

Your insides turned to jelly, fire burning hot in your veins, lighting you up from the inside out. Boiling you alive.

That accent.

So thick.

So delicious.

Almost,dare you say it, enchanting.

Damn.

"What if," she continued in that same playful tone, "I can take care if myself?"

"Doesn't hurt to have backup, does it?" you told her.

"I suppose," she conceded.

"Good girl."

She flashed a smile; a big, bright one, straight from the heart.

It was the most beautiful sight in the world.

"Don't worry," you said. "It'll be okay. We'll be okay."

"If you say so."

You knew so.

The bullies back in Scotland had only gotten away with tormenting her because she was alone. She'd had no one to turn to. No one to wrap her in a hug and tell her how amazing she was. No one to have her back.

Here, she had friends. She had you.

And you wouldn't let anything happen to her.

Never again.

If Lucifer, Olivette, and their little entourage thought they could bully her, they were wrong.

They may have gotten away with treating her like shit for over three years, but that ended now.

She wasn't their property.

Wasn't their little plaything.

Wasn't their doll to use and abuse as they saw fit.

She was a person.

The girl you loved.

And you would do everything in your power to protect her.

"I'm proud of you," you said.

Rowena frowned, taken aback. "Whatever for?"

"For telling me everything. For not putting up with Lucifer and Olivette's shit anymore. That must've taken a lot of guts."

Her cheeks flushed bright, ripe red.

You grinned.

Then, without thinking it through, you threw your arms around her and wrapped her in a hug.

Rowena froze. You could feel her heart pounding against your chest as you held her, could feel it speeding up, running full speed. Her body was warm against yours, skin soft, tender.

Home.

She felt like home.

How could anyone hurt such a delicate creature?

How could they bruise her?

How could they think it was okay?

Holding her, you wanted nothing but to protect her. To keep her like this forever, safe in your embrace. Far away from school cliques and hierarchies. Just… yours.

Only yours.

God, you loved her!

"You're so fucking awesome!" you said, when all you wanted to say was, I fucking love you!

"Aye," Rowena said, a tad coquettish. Teasing. "That I am, dear."

Her arms slipped around you, returning the hug. Reciprocating the tightness, the protection.

You melted into it. Gave yourself away to the sensation, to the feel of her against you. To the warmth that radiated off her as if she were the sun, your system's brightest star.

Your lifeline.

Your everything.

"Thank you for trusting me."

She offered no reply.

You held each other in silence, for what must have felt like hours. Just sat there and held each other as if your lives depended on it.

Maybe they did.

Maybe nothing else mattered except the two of you.

A girl could certainly dream.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @gaysnakess @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @tasyahilker @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock

[miss-anna-banana-blog]

I never thought I’ll be writing something like this, specifically the part of exposing myself in front of the people who follow me + the ones who don’t but still are checking up all the time. These pictures take me back to summer 2017. The worst year of my entire life. You couldn’t tell of course because I made sure no one wouldn’t be capable of noticing these kind of things. I posted positive, happy and silly things and I “became the best version of me” lmao. Now I can finally admit that was some huge ass bullshit and I’m mad no one said a thing. A few months before those photos were taken, I started to battle with my super toxic new old friend Anorexia, followed by her cousin Bulimia. I could remember having a goal: To be as skinny as possible. To look as good as I could ever look on a family trip to the beach (now that I think about it, it’s like, come on, it’s your family they don’t give a shit). Also, before that, I had my high school prom and you can guess what my new eating disorder did for me. Did you guessed? Yes, it made me bought a smaller freaking expensive dress! So that I could have a motivation to lost all the freaking weight I hated. I remember being asked by the lady in charge of the dress store “Don’t you want the L size? I think you could feel more comfortable” And my whole face started to burn. I felt awful. But I remained calm, laughed and said “I’m about to go on a diet. I’ll loose all this weight” and she ofc had to be this supportive “buy all my shit” kind of person. So she suggested me to get the S size. But around that time I was dumb, but like not that dumb after all because I knew that, there was no way in hell I could fit into that shit, even if I stopped eating for like a whole month. So I decided to get the M one. And yes, maybe M is kinda considered a fat girl size, but this dress was made of lace. fucking lace. Which means, it was tight and getting the M was sort of a big deal. That day I paid for my own dress (because my parents had no idea about my future plans) and went home all happy and excited because I finally had a goal to achieve: To fit in that dress, because I couldn’t afford to throw all my money away. So at this moment I’d like to state that I have a mild pill addiction (nothing serious, but sometimes they still appeal to me as candies or some shit) and it appeared around this time because this girl had an eye opening moment when she found out about...*drum rolls* LOSING WEIGHT PILLS. It was a whole thing. I was shocked. Like, I could lose weight by taking this lil pill? Everyone said “yes” forgetting that ofc It’s not that easy. So I started to take them daily, even surpassing the recommended dose. I began to let those pills solve my whole eating problems. I started dieting but sometimes I had these huge cravings (I could also say I’m kind of a compulsive eater?) anyways, I wanted to eat junk food, but I couldn’t do it. My whole brain was like “No honey” and then we started to have a battle and when I won that battle, I decided to choose the losing weight pills as my ally. So, in resume, I ate a lot of shit and then I’d let the pills do it’s job. And what job I’m talking about? Diarrhea LMFAO. I mean, I had to get used to be shitting my pants every single time because everything I ate ended up in the freaking toilet in a very gross way. The thing is, I learned to live with this awful thing. I made it look like something normal. But the truth is, it wasn’t normal and I could have gotten a serious disease by doing that. But as always, that wasn’t enough. And when I realized the pills process was kinda slow I decided to cut most of the foods I considered “bad”. I ate once a day, drank tons of water and detox tea; courtesy of my mom. Because, now that I realize all this stuff, I didn’t started all of this by myself. I let my mom help me develop it. She has always talked about losing weight methods, pills, creams, all the things that would help you lose weight, my mama knew. So I always had this fear of my mom targeting my fatness. I had the fear that she would be disappointed because of the weight I had after all the advice she gave to me and my sisters. I mean, she always had something to say about this losing weight thing, How could I be fat? She literally was giving me options to not be fat anymore. So to her, at first was kinda normal that I decided to go to sleep to avoid eating. I would literally had a small plastic bag with some granola for breakfast and water. Then I would eat tuna with lettuce and lemon and more water and then I’d have more tuna for dinner. And when I felt hungry as hell? I went to sleep. It helped me a lot to be a sick person at it’s fullest. But hey, I def started to lose weight. With all the things I cut and the pills I was this close to achieve my goal. I decided to join my mom on her gym routine and people there started to compliment me about how skinny I started to look. I was living the dream!! I started to push myself way harder on the gym (I also almost fainted like 2-3 times a week) but Hey, I needed to get toned! Being skinny wasn’t enough. So I started to realize I could get myself to look better. And guess who helped me achieve my skeleton look? My dearest friend, index finger. We had our first meeting one time at the bathroom. That time I didn’t thought I’d be capable of doing something like that. I was scared of the result. But somehow we managed to forget that rocky start and the first time I vomited I was like “woah so this is how it feels. My god, can’t believe I’ve missed this my whole life” and it was so easy. I didn’t even need to cut foods. I could eat whatever I wanted! And then It would be gone for good! And all I had to do was push my finger deep in my throat. So fucking easy. And that’s how I finally achieved my goal, by playing the girl from the exorcist movie in my bathroom every day after every meal. I should’ve been happy, but my ED said “nope” and I had a whole breakdown and missed my prom. I went trough a lot of changes, decided to cut and dye my hair and tried to become a whole new person while stile carrying my oldest two versions (The one before the ED, and the one who had the ED) and I felt like I became an actress in this movie called “how long could you keep it cool until you become crazy”. Around that time, I weighted like 43...42 kg. I was way under my weight. My legs were tiny and I loved them. I loved to feel my ribs, my hip bones. I loved to see how my clothes looked bigger on me. I even sent some of my clothes to be fixed so that they would be smaller and fit me and yet, they didn’t because I was too small now. And I loved it. No one said a thing. My family was like “Oh now you’re skinny? It must be from the gym” My mom was thrilled. She never said it, but I could tell by the way she looked at me when I asked her if she could send my clothes to her friend because they didn’t fit me anymore. She even started to buy me clothes on smaller sizes and we even joked about how now I would have to buy on the kid’s section because I was so small and I couldn’t be prouder. I took photos with the clothes that looked bigger on me. I had to have proof that I was tiny! I was having a moment. And people started to notice that I became tiny but never asked how I got to be ‘that’ tiny. So, they never asked. I never answered. Until now lol. So the family trip to the beach happened and there I ate all the things I couldn’t while achieving my goal, because what the hell I was already skinny, I could eat whatever I wanted. And I ate, and ate and yet, I looked good on the bikini photos. I MEAN, for the first time in years I bought a TWO PIECES swimsuit. I had a great time there, it felt like a culmination in my life. I took cute pictures in front of the beach house, my cousin complimented be about looking skinny and pretty and yeah, happy ever after. Back at home, the struggle wasn’t over. I started to eat normally again but always fearing about my weight. I was perfect. I couldn’t lose that. So it begins the journey of “eating and regretting and then vomiting and then regretting it and then sending everything to hell and eating once again” and that went on repeat ALL DAY. To summarize, this isn’t exactly a story with a happy ending. It got to a point where I realized “WTF DUDE. YOU’LL DIE FROM THIS” and I stopped doing all that shit. Even my parents noticed the whole thing before I could send it back to hell. Tbh I was kinda expecting them to be mad or anything but they were like “we could hear you vomiting” and that’s all. Um, so you heard? Uh, sorry? My mom was more worried about how the toilet looked after I threw up on it. She said the stains were awful. So, I’d like to say sorry to my mom for staining her toilet while dealing with all my shit. My bad mom. 

Now, I’d like to state that it’s been three years since that happened and my family and I still haven’t spoke about it. I had to seek help somewhere else. And you know, I’m not stating that my parents are the ones to blame. No, I was 17. I was totally aware of how awful having a ED was and yet I decided to participate. However, I totally believe they should have said something. I mean, it took a very short time for me to lose more than 30 kg and I slept all day. Wasn’t that weird for them? Maybe. But my parent’s weren’t exactly raised to be aware of people’s emotions. My parents were raised to be emotionless. They rarely show emotions and that’s something regular at home. So, if they ever felt worried they never expressed it because they didn’t knew how. And that’s normal, At least to me. 

Moving forward to 2020, I’m 21. I’m an ED survivor (hate the word but you know, I didn’t died so I guess I kinda survived?) and I’m still in recovery and def not fully healed. That’s why I said this didn’t exactly had a happy ending. Because when you have an ED you can’t just put it away and make it disappear from your life. Nope, it’s not that easy and if someone says it is. They’re big liars. People talk about how difficult is to recover and gain weight without having these awful thoughts but they never tell you how your relationship with food changes forever. Or maybe they do, but it’s very rare tbh. Now, 3 years after having an ED I can say I still have it in me. Every time I eat something, I can’t help to feel guilty. To have the urge to vomit everything or the amount of times I say in my head “You need to cut food again” I get a losing weight goal every month. And I have the same feelings and thoughts I used to have 3 years ago. I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t feel proud. I get the feeling I’m not having my best moment. And it sucks, you know? Because it’s tiring. Having your mind working 24/7 on the food you just ate and you could have replaced it with something healthier. And not being able to stop it. It also doesn’t help the fact that my mom is still obsessed with losing weight. She still has this habit of checking what I eat and making this “I don’t approve it” face. A month ago, I kinda had a relapse. I started to cut foods and then I was like “Hey, remember those pills? They still exist, you know?” But, I had no money. I couldn’t go outside to get them (bc quarantine, yikes) and I had no idea which ones would help me this time. So...I asked the expert; my mom. I’d like to state again I’m not blaming her. Anyways, I told her I felt fat and awful (she never said “you’re not fat” bc I have to admit, I am, at the moment) and asked her for her advice on losing weight stuff. She quickly recommended some popular diet pills she once listened a woman recommend in the radio. She even told me about a deal they had! Which included 3 bottles, all of them with 60 pills. Bro, I was in paradise at that moment. 180 pills plus having the opportunity to lose weight? WHAT A FUCKING DEAL My mom was thrilled, she even got the deal for herself (and both suffered from the same consequences, that my mom tried to cover up by saying that “it was the body’s reaction” and that we were detoxing our bodies” but I decided to cut that bullshit and stopped taking them bc I had awful results (and also, I wasn’t exactly losing weight which was the whole goal) 

Today, June 2nd. I reflected about this whole thing. I am proud I never went to the bottom and to the hospital. But I’m not proud on the fact that I still haven’t recovered. Not even a bit. I mean, yeah, now I have double thoughts before doing something my ED tells me to do, but I still have the urge of being skinny. I still compare my body and feel like that is the only thing I could offer. Most stories shared this day, are successful ones. Most have this cute ending with them still being skinny but now, reflecting on life and talking about healthy weight gain. But not all stories are like those ones. There’s people still struggling. Like me, I haven’t even recovered but yet, I’m sharing this shit. Because that’s the reality behind having a daughter, sister, friend, with an ED. 

We would never openly say “I HAVE AN EATING DISORDER” but it’s always in the little details. It’s in the way they read the menu and search for the healthy options and the calories, the way they express about their bodies, the way they constantly say how much they need to go to the gym. It’s in the way they look at food whenever you offer them, like if they could calculate how many days would it take for that food to get stuck in their body, specifically in the abdomen area. It’s there, but not many people gets to see it. It’s a matter of paying attention. And no, we do not want attention all the time, we do not want you to save us. It’s not about that. It’s about being aware that we are struggling and that we might need your support at least once. 

Personally, I do not want to be saved. I just want to cope with it. I want to be able to eat healthy without falling again into these crap. I want to be able to look back and say “I fucking did it”. If I’m totally honest, the thought of losing weight will always be here with me. I’ll always have this little voice telling me “You could be smaller, you know? “You could stop your dad from saying that you’d be perfect to play football again because you could tackle everyone with that body” “You could be as tiny as your sister” “You could show your ballet teacher that you do not look like a ball anymore” “You could make your mom proud because you have taken her advice” “You could fit in that shirt and those pants again” and the most important one “You could have it all” because sadly, in this world, skinny means successful. And while I still try to achieve being that successful, the ED thoughts won’t go away, not at all. And I’m being honest. Terribly honest. But at least, I’m not lying and saying I’ll do better. Because, I’ll be better, just not today and maybe not even in two years from now. But I’ll be one day. 

This story was shared to commemorate the World Eating Disorders Action Day (June 2nd) to spread awareness about what ED really mean and what they actually look like in real life. 

[jeanjauthor]

Another case of eloquence and truth in unexpected places.  This webcomic can get pretty gross and gory at times, and the humor is most decidedly noir/black humor/sardonic/sarcastic.  It is not for younger audience members...but sometimes its creator, R.K. Milholland, has some profound truths to share with others.

...

Descriptions & transcripts for the visually impaired:

Something * Positive, a four-panel webcomic dealing with noir humor, life, and weirdness.

The characters for today are PamJee, a young Asian girl with sarcastic/sardonic tendencies who was adopted by PeeJee, an Asian woman who runs an online telephone/video service for computer repairs and other things, and Jason, her blond husband who directs stage plays for small theater companies, among other things.

PeeJee and Jason have always raised their daughter with a mixture of genuine love and a blunt acknowledgement of the awful things in life, plus plenty of mock-teasing. “Uncle Davan” is the best friend of PeeJee and Jason who is an honorary uncle to PamJee, and is the main character of the webcomic most days.

Here is the comic for March 24th, 2020:

[First panel is the young character of PamJee, peeking through a doorway into her mother PeeJee’s at-home office.]

PamJee:  Ugh, why are you still here? Don’t you have an office?

PeeJee:  You know I’m working from home for the same reason you’re not in school.  We’ve gotta stay put during all this pandemic stuff.

[Next panel, still in the office; a tallish potted plant can be seen in the background.  PamJee is eyeing her mother in disgruntlement, while PeeJee has her attention more on the papers in her hand than on her daughter.]

PamJee:  Mom, nothing personal, but I’m tired of your face.

PeeJee:  That’s okay, I’m kinda sick of yours.

[Third panel, PamJee is holding up her hands, eyes wide in shock, while PeeJee rolls her eyes at her daughter.]

PamJee:  What the hell, Mom?! You’re not allowed to say that

PeeJee:  Sweetheart, I think you need to learn this now.  You can absolutely love someone with all your heart, and sometimes be kind of tired of their bullshit.

[Last panel, PamJee has gone to a different room in the house, a storage, laundry, or pantry room, to complain to her father Jason, who glances back over his shoulder to give his reply.]

PamJee:  Dad! Mom says she doesn’t like me!

Jason:  You go and tell her it’s my turn to not like you!

PamJee:  This must be that “building character” crap Uncle Davan talks about, ‘cuz it’s really pissing me off.

...

Now that most of us are doing our part to prevent the spread of COVID-19, it often means being stuck in quarantine, having to live with our housemates for longer than the hours before & after work, school, whatever.

In this case, this is a profound piece of wisdom which really strikes hard at the way we need to understand interpersonal relationships with family members, friends, spouses, and so forth.

PeeJee:  Sweetheart, I think you need to learn this now. 

This is a very polite way for PeeJee to call her daughter on her attitude.  Politeness, courtesy, patience, these are the watchwords for when you’re stuck in a situation that, for the good of many many others, you cannot change.  It is a life-lesson that many people don’t actually learn.  Not consciously. 

In this case, the comic shows how--yet again--PeeJee and Jason are raising their kid to be more consciously aware of what is going on in life, both within herself and in the greater world around her.  Sometimes these lessons are taught young, and sometimes they are self-taught. Sometimes they’re only subconsciously learned, but PamJee’s parents love her enough to give her straight talk about life lessons.

We are not being taught to think critically (as in critiquing, not criticizing) about our lives, by our society/culture.  But it is a valuable thing to learn how to be self-aware of certain things.  For instance, when I was going to college and having to wait up to an hour between busses to get there and back home again (if a class ran too late to catch the right one in the late afternoon), I eventually realized there was a difference between being patient, and being patient when you don’t want to be patient.

Why is this important?  Because these are different life skills.  Being patient when you want to be patient is, well, easy.  You know it’ll be worthwhile.  But being patient when you don’t want to be patient, that’s much more difficult.  I could not change the bus schedule.  I could not change how late the teacher would hold our classes.  I could not change how far away from the bus stop my last class of the day might be, that quarter.  I could not change anything when a bus driver coming early and choosing to leave early. 

And since this was an era (early 1990s) when smart phones were still nothing more than a scifi fantasy, aka the tablet PADD thingies carried around by the actors on Star Trek: The Next Generation (aka they did not exist in real life!)...I had to learn how to accept having to wait, whether or not I wanted to wait.  A lot of people subconsciously learn this lesson, but there was this one day that--I don’t know how or why--I woke to it consciously, and figured out that, being utterly bored, with nothing external to occupy my attention...I should entertain myself in my head by focusing on world-building and storytelling.

(This is the era in which the beginnings of the IaVerse got started, btw, so this little story is relevant to my author’s blog thing.)

PeeJee’s next speech-bubble in that scene, however, speaks to a subconscious side-effect of life in quarantine, trying to prevent the spread of COVID-19:

You can absolutely love someone with all your heart, and sometimes be kind of tired of their bullshit.

This is a truth.  We may have to put up with each other for far longer spans of time than usual while in quarantine, and we may subconsciously be aware of the need for practicing politeness, courtesy, common sense, and so forth...but frictions will arise.

And you know what? That’s okay.

You can still love someone, and be tired of their bullshit at the same time.

You are allowed to have complex emotions.

You don’t have to be happy all the time!

However...you are still responsible for how you react, based on those feelings.

And it’s okay for others (or you if you’re the target of their reaction) to refuse to let that bullshit slide uncommented upon.

In this case, PeeJee does tell her daughter the absolute truth.  Her daughter is giving her a rude comment, spurred by the restlessness of extra exposure to her parents due to quarantine, rather than having the respite of being at school away from them for several hours out of the day.  So PeeJee gives right back to PamJee what PamJee gave her.

When PamJee is shocked by this...yes, parents aren’t normally supposed to say things like that to their kids.  But there does come a point where this particular lesson does have to be learned.

Life is complex.  Emotions are complex.  Bullshit can only be tolerated so much before it must be called out for what it is:  Bull.  Shit.

And when PamJee goes to her father to complain, Jason is delivering a punchline, yes, and it may seem cruel, yes...but it also in a back-handed-compliment way implies that they take turns being Good Loving Parent-Cop and Bad Sarcastic Parent-Cop.  It implies that both of them are always there to support her, even if they “take turns” while one or the other is calling her out on her growing-pains bullshit.

...Is it a normal family dynamic?  No.  But it is remarkably healthy all the same, in a similar vein to the Addams Family’s values.  Because even while PamJee calls out her daughter’s rudeness, she reassures PamJee that she is absolutely loved.

“Unconditionally loved” in this case doesn’t mean “we’re going to ignore every bad thing you do around us.”

I’ll let you in on the secret as to why:  Hatred (or even just calling someone out on their bullshit) isn’t the opposite of Love, folks.  Apathy is the opposite.  If her parents didn’t love her this much, they wouldn’t want to teach her to be conscious of having to remember to treat her family & friends with better courtesy, etc.  Of having to be polite even when you don’t want to be polite, due to the irritation-raising frictions of having to spend excessive, extra amounts of time together.

Anyway, that’s it for the webcomic page analysis!

Stay as safe as you can, be as compassionate as you can, and try to be consciously courteous, folks!  It’s a skill that most of us aren’t used to utilizing in such large amounts, but as in everything, it’ll get easier with practice.

[x-loveletters-xox]

Let it Snow Part 2

@ofbitchinisms @rivcrsrundeep @bxilmeout @niighttmares

December, Willow, Fletcher & Natalie 

Natalie: Her brows raised as she watched the boys kiss and there was no stopping the smile coming to her lips. The game was getting pretty interesting now, but she was enjoying it. She let out a laugh as Willow downed the cup and she gave him an impressed glance. "Impressive." Leaning back into the couch, she smiled. "Dare."

Willow: “Do a body shot from Dee or fletcher, whoever’s more comfortable with it.” He added, not offering himself because he didn’t want to get sticky.

Natalie: Her eyes widened slightly at the dare and she looked between the two. "So... which one of you are more comfortable with it? Because either way I drink."

Fletcher: "Use my body, that's fine," Fletcher said, jokingly flopping himself to the floor. "Unless for some reason you'd prefer Dee's over mine but if you don't then you can go ahead and use me." There was little he wouldn't be down to do.

December-: December chuckled at the dare. “Fletcher seems like he really wants this so go for it.” December laughed watching

Natalie: "I mean, if you insist," Nat laughed as he went to the floor and reached over for the bottle of wine. As she opened it back up, she went down to the floor and rested on her knees on the side of him, lifting his shirt. She poured a small amount into his navel before putting the bottle to the side and leaned down, doing the shot. "Have fun?" She asked with a tiny grin before giggling and looking up at December. "Truth or dare?"

Fletcher: "I always have fun but yes, that was very enjoyable." Fletcher said and laughed, deciding to stay on the floor and just lean up with his elbows. He wtched as she moved back and then looked over at Dee to see what she would decide after the last time

December-: December was impressed by how crazy the night was slowly getting. It was cool she had never had a night like that before. “I’ll go with truth this time.” December spoke figuring it had been awhile since she had picked truth

Natalie: "Describe the most attractive thing about each person in this room," Natalie spoke as she moved back a little so she was able to lean against the table.

December-: “I feel like that is more of a dare.” December chucked. “But okay.” She looked at Fletcher with a smile. “I think the most attractive thing about you is your smile, you have this really soft smile that lights up your whole face.” She explained then turned to Willow. “Your eyes, you have this way of looking at people that feels like your looking into the soul and I’ve noticed it before passing in the hallways and have always thought that it was pretty hot.” She explained, and then turned to Natalie. “The most attractive thing about you is your heart. I think you just genuinely care about people. Yes it’s cheesy but it’s true.” December never really thought before she spoke she wasn’t sure if any of those things were too far for her to say but they were things she genuinely felt

Natalie: "I mean...yeah, kinda. You're right. But it's a cute kinda truthy, dare," She pointed out. Natalie relaxed into a more comfortable sitting position, knees going to her chest, as December began to list things off. Her gaze flickered to each boy as the other described the most attractive thing and a small smile hinted at her lips when December got to her. "That was really sweet, Dee." She paused before actually smiling. "And cute."

Fletcher: Fletcher just smiled genuinely as she rattled off the things about everyone and he nodded in response to Natalie's statement. "It was really sweet. Thanks. That meant a lot more than you probably thought it did."

Willow: Willow blushed deeply at the compliment, staying silent and just trying to give a nod of thanks in return. He never realized he might be noticed for more than just being the weird kid and a target for bullies.

December-: December smiled at the seemly all positive response to her truth. She was just saying how she truly felt. “Just saying the truth.” She spoke with a smile. “Okay uh Fletcher. Truth or dare?”

Fletcher: "Um...." he paused for a minute to really think. Dares were fun but would that be annoying if he picked dare for the third time in a row? "Truth, I guess." he said and smiled a little, leaning back up on his elbows

December-: December thought about it for a moment. “Hhm. Describe your type.” She spoke wondering what kind of person Fletcher liked.

Fletcher: "I don't..." Fletcher thought about for a moment before shaking his head again. "I don't have a type, really. I just like good people. People who want to do good and want to put good into the world. that's what attracts me the most."

December-: “People who wants to do good is a good type.” December spoke with a smile.

Fletcher: Fletcher nodded and shrugged. "nothing simpler than that though." he admitted before turning to natalie. "truth or dare?" he asked curiously, seeing what she would say

Natalie: Truthfully, Natalie was comfortable in the spot she was in and didn't feel like moving any time soon so she decided against dare. "Truth."

Fletcher: "what made you do theater?" it was always interesting to see where people's passions laid and to see how they started. It told a lot about a person

Natalie: "My mom. When my dad left when I was younger it took a toll on me, I guess. So, she tried getting me into sports; soccer didn't work out. I hit myself in the face with a basketball and forget softball. So, I think she found a little theater club for kids and once she put me in it that was the end of that," she smiled fondly at the memories of her first joining theater. "My first role was a caroler in A Christmas Carol and I did fucking awful, but my mom was so proud of me." Her voice trailed off and she then cleared her throat. "But, uh, yeah. That's what made me do theater."

Fletcher: "That sounds really cool. Must be nice to have a supportive parent like that." Fletcher said and smiled before clearing his throat. "anyways your turn to ask." he said and laid back down to stare up at the ceiling as he waited to hear who was next

Natalie: "I'd be a mess without her." Nat admitted softly before looking to Willow. "Truth or dare, Willow?"

December-: December listened to her explanation, she didn’t know that her dad had left. “That’s cool that you were able to find a passion in it.” She spoke.

Willow: Hearing Natalie’s story was bittersweet but even if they had just met, he was happy for her that she had something that she had passion for. He also took note of Fletcher’s comment, theorizing that the boy’s sunny personality might be hiding a lot more than he let anyone at school see. “I feel the same about my mom —and I pick Truth,” he answered to go with the flow of the game.

Eventually, the gang fell asleep on the couch. The next morning the teacher rescued them from the cabin, and they all spent the rest of the trip hanging out.