#Damien is such a guy out here having the worst time of his life it's insane

[new-tella-us]

So this is a part 2.

I'm not really into the "Yandere" genre anymore, I used to be when I was younger... which is a little concerning but hey everyone goes through a "toxic love" phase, hopefully. But my old obsession gives me some knowledge of how it's written.

Yandere Damien...oh boy.

Here's my idea as I don't see too many people pull this. What if the brothers were included in his possessive behavior. Now, of course, the brotherly love he has for his family is not the same as the romantic love he has for Mika but the results can be similar.

He's made himself entirely dependent on his brothers and Mika, unable to see a world where they eventually part ways. Now for Mika, that's not too much of a problem. She isn't leaving him and she's mainly safe. No, it's his brothers that start the first crack in his breaking point.

They're falling in love and that didn't bother him but, they're now considering moving out. They're leaving him behind. They're not leaving him alone but he won't see them everyday anymore. How can he confirm that they're safe if they aren't close enough for his mindreading to work? The one good thing about his powers is that it confirms that everyone he loves is alive.

The second crack happens when he made the mistake of visiting the Pink Lady Cafe. It was a special event that Mika wanted all the boys and their girlfriends to come to. They had a maid theme and all the employees dressed up in their most flattering outfits. At first, it was fun but then Damien's mindreading made him peer into the thoughts of the men around him. Many of their thoughts were... impure to say the least. Many of their impure thoughts were directed at Mika and it made Damien's blood boil. If it weren't for his self control, he would have probably attacked some of the ones with the worst thoughts.

The third and final crack would come from the actions of those around Mika. Friends always asking to hang out, family taking her away, work always asking Mika for overtime. He could barely see her anymore and she looked so exhausted. Always complaining about how the other employees would call in sick, knowing that she would pick up their slack or how classmates like Lisette wouldn't participate in group projects, making her so frustrated. Damien ignored all the good times Mika had with others to feed his confirmation bias that she was secretly miserable. And it wasn't just her, small relationship or job issues his brothers had turned into huge red flags in his mind.

And then, he made up his mind. He would remove these stressors from their lives. He's not a violent guy, he wasn't going to hurt anyone. But slowly, one by one, each brother was calling for a fun brothers' day. And every time that happened, they never came back. Mika quit her job and stopped going outside too.

Everyone, the girlfriends, the friends, Mika's parents, hell even K tried to figure out what was going on. But Damien is a very good actor. Anyone who asked got the same answers. "I don't know where my brothers are, they aren't answering their phones", "Mika doesn't want to talk to you". And sure enough, when Mika's parents finally stopped accepting Damien's answer, he got Mika to parrot what he said. She yelled at her own parents, telling them to not contact her anymore.

Meanwhile, when the doors finally shut, all of Mika's "anger" faded into pure terror at the man that just made her isolate herself from her friends and family. She sits at the dining room table with all the other boys as they are forced to act like how life once was. Not even their thoughts were safe. They forced themselves to block out all their negative thoughts to seem like they agreed with Damien inside and out.

And from Damien's perspective? It's all in their best interest, and maybe one day, they'll agree. After all, memory is fallible, and if you think something enough, you'll be convinced that it's true.

Annnnnd I'm done with yandere stuff for a while

This was part 2 of 2

Here's part 1

[real-total-drama-takes]

Despite my intense rants about my hatred for reboot season 2 here

I want people to know it doesn't just come out of a need to feel like hating something, I tell you I wish season 2 was geueienely a good season for me, but it wasn't.

Too much of it reads as poorly planned or idead

The forced eliminations, since when wasn't Emma an actual people person? Why did we need a random scene which has the strange plot hole of there being no printer ink left but then suddenly there's printer ink to print an entire fake contract to get nichelle out despite the fact she'd have no reason to by the time the cheating map was made. Why was Damien eliminated in the worst way possible?

Why couldn't we get to see a proper note of why Ripper likes axel, why did she (again, transfem Ripper hc) basically get out Scott free of her entire season 1 misogyny, and why does it just read to me that they gave axel an interest in poetry to further RIPPERS development ? Why didn't they follow up properly on Axel wanting to become friendlier, they just.. gloss over it. Why didn't nichelle get a proper arc, instead being relegated to off screen development, that's not how you write a good show.

Why was prileb not cut shorter, there's no stakes for caleb as there was for millie (at least for me), Damien disliked his antics sure, but, he's still popular, he still has college and still has a lot he can do, he was well liked, Millie wasn't which was why her bwtrayl plot worked better, her entire life could've gone back to being a lolely miserable life where people pick on her, and treat her poorly, where she had no friends.

Why didn't we split the hockey bros sooner,why is every single finale person this time around not the ones that should've been there? Why didn't Emma get more time away from chase, why did the writers retcon ideas, why do people believe Julia so easily, you guys remembered priya being used as a shield but how blatantly manipulative Julia was full stop. Why didn't we get to see millie on her own, developing, why didn't we get the chance to see millie and Ripper become friends, they had something in the season 1 finale, they nicely interact, why not expand on that.

Why didn't priya get to fulfill her dreams, ever

...I hate being a character writer instead of a heehaw funny writer god this series PUNISHES you for getting attached

-> 🗒 anon (last take for a bit tbh, season 2 did make me feel dead inside lol but I wanna gather more positive thoughts before posting again)

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Writeblr Positivity Tag

I was not technically tagged by @winterandwords but I'm still grabbing it from the open tag, and leave it as such :)

1. What motivates you to write?

If I don't do it, no one else will write what I want to see.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

Gonna pick the lines that finished a 300k words project spread over 2 novels and 2 novellas :D

“But are you?” he asked after a moment, a hint of uncertainty on his face. “Happy, I mean. Is this how you imagined it?” Merridy looked from the airy, creme-white curtains to the shimmering rainbow glass shards, and out the window, where in the distance the ocean sparkled in the sun. She raised her gaze to Damien, his eyes fixed on her as if nothing else mattered. “No,” she whispered. “It’s better.”

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

We all know how obsessed I am with Damien, but another char that makes me happy is Riordan. I mean — how could a char I introduced as "fancy boots" not make me smile?

Between all the sad guys and tragic backstories, he's just happy and kind (and a bit naive and rude :D), with a nice family, a good life and some fun quirks. He's absolutely the friend Merry and Damien needed.

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Finishing. Finishing a chapter. Finishing a book with the last little piece fallen into place. Finishing formatting. Just. Being done with something. I am constantly haunted by the fear my interest might vanish before I am done, so being done is... awesome.

Also then I get to make my friends cry then, so that's that.

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Sadness :)

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Writing can be so very lonely. Spending hours upon hours putting silly little words into a silly little document, no I can't show you anything because I am not done, but listen to me talk about my char you don't know so you don't understand anything about what I am saying.

But here, we all understand the struggle and share the excitement.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Uh. Nothing really exists. I used to write in txt files, now I am in google docs so I can share more easily, which means I have at least a basic spell check now (which is nice, but also no google, I'm not talking about his sons.)

I guess InDesign (some shitty version from 2007) and Calibre are closest - I use them to format my books for printing and as ebook. Calibre is a rock star. InDesign is also the only program I've found so far that correctly fixes straight quotation marks in existing text when pasting in.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I am a sucker for tying all stories together in some way — recurring characters and places through standalone books, stuff like that. A lot of it is conveniently put on the back of the Order of Fire. It's an order dedicated to gathering and preserving knowledge. They have citadels all over the place, they need scientists, scholars, mercenaries and housekeeping staff, they can connect people from different parts of the world when I need it.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

I don't know. There's so many reasons for a "rough patch", and every single one requires different advice. For example, "take a break" would be the worst thing I could do right now.

Your story is worth it. Only you can write it. Yes, even if it takes time. Yes, even if similar ones exist. Yes, even if it contains unpopular tropes. Yes.

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

I have a list of my fav works here and I appreciate everyone who ever read my stuff and left a like or comment 💜

But as for support, @alittlewhump @verkja and @starlit-hopes-and-dreams are single(triple)handedly keeping my sanity up. I've found my people in more than one way, and I will stick to you like chewing gum you stepped into. I love you.

Template below the cut:

1. What motivates you to write?

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

[wormholxtreme]

Kaylee's cheeky grin widened at Sophie's reaction. It's been so long since the two of them had the opportunity to roast each other properly. And never about their romantic lives. The two had never had partners worth giving each other shit for. It felt like heaven just to be able to sit here and tease her bestie, knowing that in the end Eros would never hurt her deliberately. Not like those she'd been with in the past.

"Oh he's not the devil. Believe me. I've met the devil and she's a bitch." Kaylee said pointedly, raising her glass to the sky. "Here's hoping we find a way to end that boney bitch's existence."

She shook her head, giggling. "You definitely sparkle like an anime character babe but I take it that means Eros doesn't pull out?" She didn't pull back any punches. There was no reason to censor herself in the comforts of Sophie's place and a fourth drink in her system. "I need all the gritty details. Tell me like you're reading a romance novel. A good one."

This time it was Kaylee's turn to snort, the burn of margarita mix shooting through her nose. She gasped for breath with a laugh. "My dad and I are far from prudish but I think I gotta draw the line at you commissioning a super dildo." She shook her head in disbelief that Sophie would even suggest such a thing but Sophie would say anything for a laugh and Kaylee was always receptive of her special brand of humor.

A sigh drew from her lips, Kay for the first time in the conversation drawing her eyes purposefully away from Soph. Her fingers fiddled with the grooves on the back of the couch. Sophie's inquiry was a loaded one. Damien's conception was when she was at her worst. A force of nature paired with a man whose only action was to be a weapon and whose only desire was to please his mistress. It was even harder to express what she felt during that era of her life. Athan was the only living soul that Kaylee had shown gentleness to, and that in of itself confused the man. 

But their connection was real. The little moments of intimacy paired with carnal desire that filled the time between exterminating life forms. Kaylee remembered it. She remembered it as the entity wanting it. She remembered it as the girl locked inside, trapped under the suffocation of Pestilence. She remembered what it felt like to have his skin on hers. To feel his lips on her own and make their way down her body. She remembered the look in his dark eyes as moments of carnal pleasure seem to reach past his one track mind of serving Lady Death and fall into chasing his own desire. He was domineering but not in the ways Kaylee had grown accustomed to. It wasn't a fight. Not that Pestilence would have fought him anyway. But something about him made her weak even when she was at her strongest.

She enjoyed each of their moments together. But the comparison she had to work with didn't give Athan much competition. It was hard to say, to describe, what those times were like. Just as hard as trying to put into words her feelings for the man. "It was…iunno, fine doesn't seem to be a strong enough word for my enjoyment but good also seems too much? Athan and I are just confusing. It's like, how do you even begin to express what it's like to be pimped out by a cosmic deity but then catch feels for the guy in the end?" Kaylee took another gulp of her drink, slamming down the rest of it and letting the cool burning liquid sit uncomfortably in her stomach. She sighed heavily again. "It was better than anytime with Zeke I'll tell you that much." She shrugged in answer.

"What about you and Eros though? On the real. Do you ever feel like maybe the moves he puts on you aren't really your own? Or does it just…feel right?"

"Why would you willingly summon a devil?" Sophie's low giggle rang through her voice. Of course, in her head, Eros was far from the force of evil. He was kind and generous and made her feel happy which was a task truly worth the god because Sophie could walk for hours in her memory line before she'd remember the last time she was truly happy. A snort-like sound went through her nose as she choked on her next sip of margarita with Kaylee's words. It was her expression that sealed the deal for Sophie. Her best friend was a force of nature. In every sense of the word.

Should Sophie spill all the tea? Typically, she served it boiling. Especially to Kaylee, they were two peas in a pod but lately, she felt a bit ashamed of giving away her carnal escapades, given all Kaylee's been through. For Sophie, it felt inadequate. "He was created to procreate." Her hands spoke in unison with her words as she gestured wildly. "Of course, not with me!" She added with a slightly horrified expression. "Thank God, the power of anime and magic is on my side so I can get the best of both worlds." The last segment of her sentence was lowly sung in the lyrics of Hannah Montana.

A curiosity touched Sophie's own features, settling deep as she watched Kaylee dwelling in her own thoughts. Yes, Sophie was never far from dragging her own family into the darkness of her humor, and she never hesitate twice before dragging Athan, in the end, they weren't really close, but she saw the way Kaylee looks at him. And she was aware of her best friend's feelings towards her brother, even if Kaylee was relentless in denying them. No one else has deserved their happy ending more than Kaylee. And Sophie would bring the sky down to make it happen for her.

Innocently-not-so-innocently, she continued sipping on her drink, shrugging slowly. "I am just saying, say a word and we are cooking." A wide-toothed grin followed. More so to mirror the horror on Kaylee's face. "Not the used one, silly!" She couldn't but laugh. "I could always request one for Uncle Tones to make. Adults became real chill talking sex with us since they've realized we are great at fucking up our own lives ourselves." In all fairness, her mom and Kaylee's dad were always open in this matter.

"Hennyways," Sophie called out a little bit louder. "Do you remember anything from conceiving Damien? Was it good? We've got a lot to catch up on."

[curiositykilledtheradiostar]

I'm almost done S2 of penumbra, just the sc finale left, so I'm sure his situation probably gets much more batshit, but Sir Damien is quite possibly the single funniest character in any media ever from an outside perspective. This fucking pathetic half drowned kitten of a man is one of the most renowned knights in the Citadel and usually very competent. He was also a poet. He somehow missed the fact that "salamander" was in reference to the fact that Marc could not fucking walk. He had One homerotic knife fight with a lizard and fell madly in love with him, and instead of realizing this like a normal person he immediately concluded that God/the lizard had cursed him. The lizard then kidnapped his fiance, for completely unconnected reasons. He rambled incoherently and/or waxed poetic about this lizard for over a week, specifically about his eyes, while intermittently shouting his fiance's name dramatically and breaking down whenever she's mentioned in conversation. His fiance lived in the lizard's house for all that time, and also gained feelings for the lizard at a more reasonable pace. He went to the end of the fucking earth chasing this lizard and didn't sleep for a week. Meanwhile, his fiance confessed her love for the lizard to the entire monster court, directly after the lizard was sentenced to death. Upon finding the lizard and attempting to kill him (lizard) for cursing him (Damien), his fiance bursts into the room begging him not to. He sees she is also in love with the lizard, and decides in the culmination of his weeks long existential crisis that she's an illusion made by the lizard and he'll kill them both. He was even bisexual.

[thedahliafiles]

gone (i don't deserve a second chance) | chapter 1: don't fret

When Huxley moves back to Maine with his moms, Dion and Viola, both Huxley and Damien have to come to terms with how that feels for them in the wake of a great tragedy and a deeply traumatic event for both men.

1010 words | CW: post-inversion, inversion mentions

Chapter 1: don't fret

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since Huxley moved back to Maine. The inversion was too much. The loss of Xavier and all the pain and suffering from that night left a bone deep exhaustion that Huxley and his mothers agreed could be better treated from their own home. Huxley thought it all made sense, his lease was going up anyways with his graduation on the horizon, classes were mostly scarce right now to give students time to process and grieve -- whatever that meant for something like this. 

A video chat was scheduled for Sunday with the group. A cheap substitution for their usual hangouts at Freelancer and Gavin’s place. A nice townhouse they’d found their second year, both Gavin and their name were on the documents. It seemed like everyone Huxley talked to that wasn’t his moms was through a screen nowadays.

Therapists, teachers, counselors, newscasters, and now his friends.

His family.

A part of him wishes he’d never left, that he should’ve stayed to help them all with their grief. I mean what kind of friend leaves them behind when they’ve all already been through enough.

“The kind that needs to do what’s best for his heart and mind.”

That’s what the freelancer had told him when he broke the news at their last dinner together, spoken so gently and kindly, so sincere and that careful smile on their cheeks. They knew what moving meant for him. Peace of mind, not feeling like every open sidewalk could crush you with the weight of exposure, the corners could only hide so many secrets in a smalltown like where he grew up. 

He missed home anyways. 

Right on the coast of the cold ocean this early in the year, not a terribly long road trip to the forests of Vermont, still dusty and white this time of February. He spent his time not in class outside, recentering his core with the wet pebble beaches and the damp marshy earth of his backyard. 

That was how his moms found him most days when they’d call him in for dinner, just layed out in the grass, eyes closed so gently one would think he was asleep. But V knew her son well, stepping out onto the wet grass, and making her way to lay next to him.

“What’s eatin’ ya cub?”

“Did … Did I make the right choice?” Huxley had always taken his time when talking, growing up knowing that those that would value him would wait for him to find his words.

“Gonna have to be more specific than that, Hux.” 

“This… the whole… the move. Leaving everyone behind. Leaving… leaving Dahlia behind.” he sighed, not wanting this to start another argument, a seemingly common outcome whenever this topic had been brought up since the events of the New Years.

Viola looked at her son carefully, taking in the details that had developed since he uprooted and moved fully across the country after an already deeply traumatic event. She saw the sunkenness to his eyes that had never been there before, even at his worst exam periods his eyes were always so bright and full of life and excitement. Those eyes were so dull and quiet now. His core felt distant, despite her proximity to him, she would’ve thought his core was miles away. His heart was tired.

“I… I don’t know, baby, I’m sorry that you’re struggling with the move like this, even after some time. What makes you feel like you shouldn’t be here, though?”

“It… Mom it’s not like.. It’s not like I feel like I shouldn’t be here. It’s not that. You guys are my family, I’ll always love spending time with you. But… I don’t know… Dahlia,” he paused to choose his words more carefully, “They’re my family too, ya know?”

“I traded one family for another.” He sighed, “It’s like how I miss you two like crazy when I go back to campus after breaks spent here.”

“You two are my family… but I think they… I think Dahlia is my home now.” He braced himself for the argument, the silence in the wind as the two earths settled against the soft grass.

“Dion’s made stew. Come in whenever you’re ready, cub.” A gentle kiss is placed on his forehead as she brushed his locs back and smiled. It didn’t meet her eyes, before she stood up and walked back inside.

Huxley sighed and looked up at the trees that towered over him.

This was how it always went, for as much as his mothers loved him, they never did well when he asserted that his concept of home had shifted away from where they resided. They loved him so so much that they failed to realize their cub had grown up, and he needed to leave the den. Find his own, create the family around him that loved and supported him as they had.

And he did find them.

And then he left them.

Two weeks ago.

Huxley didn’t move from where he was laid in the yard, even as the clouds grew heavy and began to trickle rain slowly yet again. It rained a lot here, a lot was different here than it was in Dahlia. California was a new change and a refreshing one at that. Huxley loved the warmth of the sun on his skin as he went on morning runs with Damien, the cool breeze that settled around Lasko whenever they’d meet up for lunch. He loved the energy that was palpable wherever Gavin and Freelancer traveled, as if their cores and being couldn’t contain all the potential that resided in their corporeal forms. He loved the team and getting to grow with them as he completed his Earth command studies. He missed them all like crazy, he wanted to keep up with his teammates after graduation but he left. He left those fuzzy good warm feelings behind and traded them for cold rain and soft grass. 

Dahlia was home.

His friends were home.

And now he is gone.

[lilacerull0]

“Why does Connor look like she’s seen a ghost?” Zoe and Astrid looked at him with raised eyebrows. John scoffed. “Oh, you know what I mean. What’s wrong?”

“She got asked to the Yule Ball,” said Zoe and Astrid smirked, finding the whole situation very amusing.

Most of the boys looked surprised and confused by the information, all except Cedric, who straightened his posture and cleared his throat before asking, “By who?”

“I don’t know!” said Aria, finally breaking out of her frozen state. She sat down on the bench behind her, joined by Zoe and Astrid, and ran her hands over her face in frustration. “I’ve literally never spoken to the guy before!”

“Guessing you rejected him,” Matthew chuckled.

Aria groaned, covering her face with her hands and leaning with her elbows against her knees. “Yeah.” She sat up again, pulling her hair out of her ponytail and running her hands through it to relieve her stress, but her face was still contorted in agony. “It was so horrible. He caught me completely off guard and I kept trying to come up with an excuse but I didn’t have one so I basically had to say to his face that I just didn’t want to go with him. I felt horrible! It was the worst moment of my life.”

Zoe frowned. “Haven’t you almost died several times? You were petrified for months two years ago.”

Aria started her down. “Worst. Moment. Of. My. Life.”

“I think it was the worst moment of his, too,” said Astrid, grinning and turning to the boys in front of them. “You should have seen his face, he looked crushed.”

“Astrid!” Aria scolded. “Not helping!”

“Wow, you’re really shaken up about this, huh?” said Cedric.

“Yeah, I don’t like upsetting people, how weird of me.” Aria’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, making Cedric chuckle, eyes glistening as he kept them on the blonde in front of him. “What I don’t get is why he even asked me in the first place, though. We don’t know each other, why would he wanna go to the ball with me?”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut the fuck up!” she exclaimed, effectively drawing everyone’s attention to her.

Aria’s eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”

“You’re seriously wondering why a boy would wanna go out with you? You’ve got quite the reputation around here, if you haven’t noticed. You saved the school in your first year, you fixed Draco Malfoy’s blood prejudices, you’re so nice that you might just be an actual angel,” Astrid went off, and with every word Aria’s face got a shade redder.

“You’re such a Potions prodigy that Snape himself can’t even bring himself to hate you, you’re an amazing quidditch player, and Huffelpuff’s had two second places in the House Cup because of you. You speak three languages, including French, and you’re currently besties with two Triwizard Champions!” Astrid gestured widely in Cedric’s direction. “And that’s not even touching on your appearance! Don’t you realise how hot you are? You’ve got this perfect Girl Next Door vibe to you no guy could resist, long blonde hair, beautiful eyes… and don’t think no one’s noticed how you went up two cup sizes over the summer.”

If Aria had been red before, it was nothing compared to now. She sunk into herself, crossing her arms over her chest. “Um…”

“What, you don’t believe me?” asked Astrid. “Okay then, let’s ask the guys.” Aria’s eyes widened. That was the last thing she wanted. “I’m right, right?”

Identical nods and yeses come from all of them, including, to Aria’s surprise, Cedric.

Astrid turned back to Aria, a smug look on her face. “Told you so.”

Damien smirked. He opened his mouth and was about to say something until Cedric stopped him, “No,” he said. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t say it.” Damien raised his arms in surrender, though his smirk deepened, and John teasingly punched Cedric’s arm and ruffled his hair. Ced slapped his hands away.

Aria ignored them, not wanting to even begin to speculate what Damien had been thinking, much less why his friends had teased Cedric for stopping him from voicing said thoughts. Instead, she turned to Astrid, eyes wide, as the horrible implication of her rant settled in on her. “So, you’re… you’re saying that this might actually happen again?” she asked.

Astrid nodded. “I’m saying that this will most definitely happen again.” Aria groaned once more, sinking her face down into her lap.

“It’s quite a dilemma, indeed,” said Matthew. “Being admired and sought after by so many people. Must be hard.”

“Yeah,” Astrid patted her on the back, “you’re just gonna have to learn to break hearts, Aria.”

“No.” Aria sat up straight. The flushed red color was fading from her cheeks, and her eyes now had a determined glint behind them. “I have a better idea.”

She stood up and turned to face the rest of the courtyard, searching for the boy she knew should be there at this time. Finally, her eyes landed on the dark blond boy, who was hunched over his homework on one of the benches.

“Zacharias!” she shouted.

“For the last time, Connor, it’s Zach!”

Aria rolled her eyes. “Do you wanna go to the Yule Ball with me? As Friends!”

Zach’s brows rose in surprise, looking genuinely caught off guard by the question. He fiddled with the quill in his hands, pondering it for a few moments before shrugging. “Sure!”

“Great!” A grin spread across her face. “I love you!”

“Bugger off!” he shouted back before getting back to his homework. Aria knew it was his way of saying he loved her too.

“Problem solved,” she said, turning to Astrid. “Now I have a credible excuse.”

Mad Girl's Tumblr Song under the cut 🔮

Mal... I literally went through an identical thing you portrayed here once and I'm still haunted by that interaction and I feel like you've captured the tone of that experience perfectly... Because YES! You're supposed to compose it as a comedy, but place the nub of the story somewhere hidden, all the better if the hiding place is one of the characters involved, all the better if they are perfectly aware of the narrative contrast between the genre they're placed in and the secret, personal play that's taking place on the organic stage that's basically their default setting for dealing with the world... THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT YOU PAINTED HERE! Aria knows she's been assigned a role, but she also can't rebel against it entirely because the role is based on the exaggeration or a hyperbole of one of her ACTUAL characteristics. She doesn't want to stop being who she is, but she also doesn't want to be a caricature of herself! "Problem solved" THAT'S HER REBELLION!!!!! Okay, so I say this about Sam Winchester (this answer is already getting weird woah) a lot and I relate to it as well, but... rebellion doesn't represent the same thing in different environments and different circumstances. The main bit is: some kind of defiance is involved and that's literally it. It doesn't immediately translate to vandalism? Sam was rebelling by attending college! (the opposite is the usual symbol of rebellion) Amy Pond's (here we gooooo) moment of defiance is literally set during her wedding day and she ends up married by the end of it because the focus is placed elsewhere, the highlight of her revolt goes against the expected (even the traditional wedding imagery gets deconstructed and gains a different meaning... SAY THAT), she is even assumed to be upset about the marriage itself (I mean... generally speaking she is, but not the point here) right before the big thing happens. (girlie is more concerned about her not so imaginary friend than getting married... me.) 

Something something Aria being pushed into a role she never wholeheartedly agreed to and developing this specific and unique mechanism that helps her express herself properly, even if nobody but her doesn't understand the nature of what she's doing. Her asking Zach to the ball is exactly that! She's still perceived as The Sweet Girl Next Door, but in her own eyes she's doing what she has to do to preserve her actual self. [sorry for bringing Amy into this again, but... her whole thing is she's stuck in a loop of constantly being Right and Mad at the same time and her only way of getting rid of the metaphorical box she's being pushed into is giving up the core aspect of her own self too... (wowowow Jo March-y, especially in the context of the 2019 film... the infamous letter) what makes Amy who she is buys her the Local Mad Girl status and what makes Aria who she is gets her the Sweet Sunshine Girl sticker... there's a Rory Gilmore link here too] Also I love how the notes on her physical appearance come as a surprise to Aria? There it is!!!! The metaphorical box that compliments a singular aspect of your personality and contradicts the rest... It's this idea I really love seeing in fiction where a person strategically gets reshaped into a concept. It's not that they're underwritten! There's a calculated duplicity there... the reflected and the reflecting, perception vs the real thing (the potential? eventual? merging of the two... *chillssssss*), wow Robert Chase/Aria Connor links incoming. -> Aria is kind. Fact. Chase got his job because of his dad. Also a fact. The general impression of them is built on those two facts (+ they are both conventionally attractive which is something that affects their lives significantly) But shocker! Aria has a personality beyond being kind + her kindness doesn't exclude criticism of what she doesn't consider to be right. (re: her influence on Draco) All facts too! Chase didn't grow up in wealth, not in the slightest. He actually studied in med school lol. Also facts. But... these aspects of these characters get excluded from the equation because they exist in contradiction to their widely recognized traits. Characters plagued by earth shattering contradictions... (ok Amy Pond character summary) SIGN ME UP! (also watch how transparent I am with all of these references)

THAT WAS WILD, I HOPE I DIDN'T OVERWHELM YOU ❣❣❣❣❣❣❣❣❣❣

Anyhow, Aria Connor So Punk for choosing Love always. Aria Connor So Punkkkkkk

This ask means so much to me actually, THANK YOUUUUUUUUUU

[imtooscaredforthis]

Basketcase

Chap.2 - Story

Mentions of: Death, Angst, Child Abuse, Sexual Harassment, Cults, Drugging, Kidnapping, Stabbing, Murder, Alcohol, etc.

You watched as the fog lifted around you, letting out an exhausted sigh. The previous trial seemed like your last for the time being, giving you some time to rest around the campfire with the other survivors.

You trudged over to a log, dragging your feet, and sitting down in front of it, resting your face on your knees. The bark scratched against your back slightly as you leaned against it, but it was something that grew comforting for you, knowing that it meant you could rest. Your injuries had all healed, only some slight tingles of pain from where you had been stabbed and where the entity grabbed you.

You had grown used to dying, and at this point, it only served as an inconvenience. Getting killed by the entity was probably one of the more merciful ways to go, compared to getting stabbed, eaten, cut up, and many other ends you had to face.

“Rough trial?” One of the survivors sitting across from you, Adam, asked.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You smirked at him, leaning back slightly and banging your knees together with boredom.

Despite having a very antisocial attitude, you got along with most of the survivors. Well, the ones you talked with, at least. You usually spent most of your time with those who were relatively near your age. Quentin, Steve, Nancy, and Claudette who was always really nice. She helped you a lot when you first got here, and so did Quentin.

You also got along with some of the older guys, like Ace who was kind of like the fun uncle type, and Ash and Bill always had great stories. Ash’s fight against evil spirits and deadites, and Bill’s on the hardships and persistence during his service in Vietnam always seemed to entertain you.

But right now, there wasn’t anyone there who you could talk with, so, you let your gaze fall to the forest in front of you as your mind wandered. That same killer from before still plagued your thoughts. The Legion.

They were a relatively new group, joining along with a survivor not too long ago. Even though you only went against Susie, (and now another member) you had heard rumors about how aggressive and rude they could be. Some even scared them. You knew their names were Susie, Joey, Frank, and Julie, but you didn’t have any faces you could match them to.

Still, you didn’t know why that thought of him was glued to your mind, maybe you were attracted to him or something. You always did have a thing for guys that could kill you. That’s what got you here in the first place.

It all started during your senior year of Highschool. Your parents were extremely religious, forcing you to go to a private school to learn, and making you read scripture every night. Ever since you were a kid, you felt that religion wasn’t for you, but you knew if you said anything about it, you’d probably be disowned. In fact, if you did the smallest thing they deemed unholy, your Father would beat you for it. Most of your life had been boring, bleak, and bland until you met him.

Damien Finch. He was a dropout, about a year older than you. Black hair, hellishly handsome smile, leather punk clothes, everything about him smelled like trouble, and it enticed you even more. So, you decided, now that you were eighteen, you were old enough to make your own choices. And the first choice you ever made for yourself was to hang out with him. It was a mistake. It was the worst mistake you ever made.

You hung out a few times, doing stupid shit like smoking, vandalizing stuff, and lighting things on fire. For once, you finally felt like an actual teenager. Making stupid decisions and knowing you’ll learn from them later. It felt like you belonged.

The third time you were together, he kissed you. And man, was it intense. You had never kissed anyone until him, and he made you feel so many things, but most importantly, he made you feel wanted. Guys never wanted you before. No one did.

That was the last good thing you ever felt before your death. The last time you hung out with Damien, he drugged and kidnapped you. When you awoke, you were tied up and gagged to the floor, stripped down to nothing but your undergarments. Damien and a few other men were there, standing above you in robes.

The rest that happened was all a little fuzzy, probably since your brain was trying to keep the trauma pushed back. They carved into your chest and legs, muttering awful things to you, while you cried and begged for them to stop. Then, they began to chant something, walking over and slitting your throat. Never had you fought so hard, screaming until you couldn’t, kicking and struggling under the bonds until your skin was raw. As you bled out, the fog came over you slowly, taking you away from this miserable death.

It took you a while to get over your death and finally accept what was happening. You were so hysterical, so sad, so angry, it was horrible. You even tried running away, and the others had to stop you a few times, David even had to hold you down at one point.

You subconsciously ran your finger over your collarbone, feeling what was left of the carvings Damien gave you. The entity healed most of it up, except for two marks, one on your chest and the other on your thigh. On your collarbone was some cultish marking which you supposed was for the entity, and on your thigh was the initials of the men who all did this to you, D.M.N.S.

You supposed it was the entity’s little way of fucking with you as if putting you through these trials wasn’t already enough. Still, sometimes it would hurt. Sometimes you would still feel a little vengeful, wanting to make those men hurt the way they made you hurt, thinking about what you’d do to them. Other times, you would wonder where you would be in your life if you didn’t make that stupid decision of hanging out with Damien. Would you be free? You hoped so.

The sound of survivors joining the fire and conversations growing more animated managed to pull you out of your thoughts. It seemed that the others had just finished up their trials as well.

Quentin took a seat beside you, giving you a tired grin. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine, I just got a little lost in thought.” You smiled back at him. Out of everyone here, you were probably the closest to Quentin. He was easy to talk to and pretty funny. He was also very comforting, letting you fall asleep on him when you were bored or tired.

And you were pretty sure he liked you. As in like-liked you. He was always so kind, and the way he looked at you...but you didn’t like him like that. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t like him back. You could only see him as a friend, and it sucked. But despite this, it was nice to still have some sort of close connection with someone out in this isolating realm.

You watched as David pulled out a flask from his back pocket, holding it up in the air. “Look what I found.”

He took a sip, grinning as he sat back. “Seems like that wanker entity’s good for somethin eh?”

He passed the flask around, some drinking, some not. Min, who was seated beside you, took a long drink, before offering it to you. You gazed at it hesitantly, raising a hand to it. “Oh, I don’t know if I should.”

“Okay, no one’s going to force you, but it’s not like we’re leaving anytime soon. One of the good things about being trapped in another dimension for eternity is that you can make mistakes and learn from them. You have all the time to do, well, whatever.” Her words made you stop and think. And you realized, she was right.

“Screw it.” You shrugged, taking a sip, coughing slightly at the bitterness of the whiskey. It burned your throat but in a good way. Some of the other survivors cheered you on, hooting and laughing. Wiping your mouth, you offered some to Quentin, but he just shook his head.

After some time passed, most of the survivors were gone again, except for a few scattered around the campfire. That just left you, Quentin, and the flask which was now only in your hands.

Man, David must’ve hit the jackpot, because the flask felt like it was bottomless. You had taken quite a few more sips, growing used to the taste of the whiskey, and the nice burn it gave your throat. You never rally drank up until now, but it felt nice to have your nerves and emotions numbed by the alcohol.

“You sure you want to keep drinking that?” Quentin questioned nervously, noticing how tipsy you were getting.

“Oh, Quentin, you’re so cute. I’ll be fine.” You flicked his nose, letting out some drunk giggles.

The time between trials would either be too short or painfully long. Right now, it was really long. You rested your chin on your hand, gazing out at the forest once again.

It was dark, too dark to see if anything was behind the bushes and trees that were densely close together, as if screaming, “do not enter.” And you knew not to since most survivors said it was killer territory. But in your drunken state of mind, your curiosity peaked, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was back there.

Then, you remembered Min’s words from earlier. And you knew you had to go. So, when no one was looking, you crept out to the woods. You stood at the boundaries, looking through them hesitantly, you still couldn’t make anything out.

Right when you were about to step out of the boundaries, and into the woods, Quentin was there to stop you. “(Y/n)? What are you doing out here?”

“Nothing, I just want to see what it looks like inside.” You murmured, not moving your eyes from the woods.

“You know you can’t do that. The killers are in there.” He said cautiously.

“Yeah, so? I’m just going to take a peak. I’ll be back in a second.” You told him, turning away to the woods.

“(Y/n), no. Don’t be stupid.” He stopped you, making you even more frustrated.

“Why do you even care? It’s not like you’re my boyfriend or anything.” You regretted those words as soon as they slipped from your mouth. You fucked up, and the hurt expression on Quentin’s face showed it all.

“Shit, Quentin I’m sorry.” You tried, but he already turned his back to you, fuming.

He shook his head, dark locks bouncing in his face. “Whatever. I shouldn’t have to be responsible for you. Have fun doing whatever stupid shit you’re planning.”

You wanted to follow him, and almost did, but you stopped yourself. If you followed him right now, all you would do is make it worse. So, turning away, you set out for what you were here to do in the first place.

Pushing past some thickets and trees, you entered the woods. It was dark inside but just seemed like a normal forest. But there was something in the energy, something that seemed off about it.

Continuing to explore and drink away your frustration from your fight with Quentin, you began to sing to yourself. Back in the normal world, music was one of the few things you could have. Your mother gave you a phone just in case of emergencies, and you found a way to download your favorite songs.

God you missed music, you missed food, you even missed people. Which you never thought was possible. Softly, you began to sing to yourself.

“Love me love me, say that you love me,”

“Fool me, fool me, go on and fool me,”

“Leave me, leave me, just say that you need me”

You repeated the lyrics, the song engraved into your mind. As you continued walking, you felt yourself begin to grow tired, your eyes growing heavy and the next thing you knew, your legs lost all weight, and everything went black.

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

The most baffling part of WKM is that everyone trusts and adores Damien, despite him being the only one in politics and actively in office. Mark made the mayor character the most trusted and loved. How????

(uh oh, you unlocked my 'Love Damien' mode)

You came to the right person! This is a great question and I will gladly go on a rant to try and help shed a little light on this!

In short, it's exactly because of how you phrased your question. There's a politician. He's seen as nice and trusted and loved. It seems like something that shouldn't be, and you assume the worst of him because it has to be an act for whatever reason; and that is because of the general view of politicians at the moment. I'm not touching IRL topics with a ten foot pole, but I will say that at present, there is a sorta wariness/a 'they don't care about us' vibe toward politicians in certain countries (including my own). That's something that then seeps into media.

Think about it. If there's a politician in a show of any sort (especially one holding office), they're usually up to no good behind the scenes or are unreliable - just like how a librarian might be cranky, for instance - in a sort of caricature. Off the top of my head I can remember seeing... A mayor that wanted to evict an entire community to build a business something-or-other to make lots of money, a mayor who branded a local team of agents as non-trustworthy when they went against his pretty crummy views (which could be the same show tbh), an absolutely useless buffoon of a mayor who needed the help of children to constantly save his city from supervillains, and a politician (maybe a mayor?) who constantly clashed with the chief of police in a city. This isn't even considering the times a politician character (whether or not they hold office) is involved with criminals, bribery, is being blackmailed, or even has a criminal record of some sort.

Damien is an exception to this trope. It may or may not be completely intentional, but it's genius on Mark's part. You walk in, see this well-dressed man with a rather cheesy Mayor badge pinned on... And people would immediately get suspicious... Something which Mark called people out on at a panel! Don't forget, every character was framed in a way to give reason for them maybe being the killer. I watched WKM (and got vaguely into the fandom) a week after it finished, so I missed the speculation in between each episode. From what I've seen, it appeared that a lot of people were wary of Damien, though I'm not too sure if it's because they were like "IT'S JUST DARK IN DISGUISE DON'T BE FOOLED" or if it was because of his job and mannerisms. Either way, it turns out his worries were genuine, and he was innocent of any crime that night, which completely subverts the expectation of a politician in a show. He's a rare breed - someone that has good intentions and a good heart, who wasn't 'tainted' by politics in some way.... But ends up getting corrupted anyway through matters far beyond his control.

Not only that, there's two important points that I think people forget and I'll go into better detail of under the read-more because this is getting pretty long.

-

1. The character that is the viewer has known Damien since university. That means they've been friends minimum... Let's say five years, but probably closer to ten. You're going to be more at ease and more 'yourself' around people you are very fond of, and Damien's face lit up the moment he noticed the viewer arrived. Since the viewer would be going into this cold the first time it's viewed, they wouldn't feel that bond and might think Damien's friendliness is an act. 2. While he is the Mayor, he's not The Mayor at that moment. He's merely a Mayor by title alone. For the events of Who Killed Markiplier?, he's just Damien. It would be different if we had walked into his office, but we arrived at a party with people Damien was comfortable with. He had no need to impress anyone because they were friends. Remember, the reason the badge exists is to tell the viewer what Damien does. Otherwise he could be any sort of businessman or guy in a fancy suit, and the explain everything video states that everyone thought Mark got the suit for a wedding when he shared a photo.

(Both points are showcased nicely in the very first scene we meet Damien if you compare the way he talks to the Detective - someone he barely knew - to the viewer - who has been a friend since university. When talking to Abe, Damien stands poker straight (almost rigid) and rests his hands on his cane. One hand moves to emphasise something, but the rest of his body remains still. There's a polite, yet formal, air to him. Here, he is The Mayor. I'd bet they were having casual conversation on how they met Mark or some other generic topic to break the ice. Then the pair notice you and that conversation is instantly DROPPED. Damien immediately lifts his cane as his entire body turns to the viewer. That smile isn't one that's given out of politeness. He's now Damien. There's no need to put on an act when it's a familiar friend. He still stands straight, but his body language and facial expressions are far looser and more casual. Gestures are with both hands now. His expressions are more playful, including widening his eyes to emphasise his tease about the viewer's skill of poker. This continues until he walks off-screen where, I presume, he was going to say hello to William.)

We don't know the extent of how much anyone trusts anyone else, but one of the big exceptions is the Colonel. I know I've written a headcanon on a roleplay blog about this, but he didn't know you, so he was polite, but distant and aloof. He had no reason to even care about you. We saw a good example of William acting like this the morning after. HOWEVER, after spotting the viewer talking to Damien outside at the end of the first episode, he notices a connection. The moment he knows you are Damien's friend he opens up with no hesitation in the second episode and is rather friendly toward you from then on. He trusts you because he trusts Damien, which to me suggests that our Mayor keeps good company and has a good judge of character. Plus, no one really has a reason to think ill of Damien. He and William have an argument focused on William's reaction to Mark's death (and don't forget that Damien wanted to apologise but William kept running away), while Celine shuts him down for Damien trying to get her to reconsider her idea; but neither are motives for them to be suspicious of Damien. Chef and George are indifferent, while the Butler is probably indifferent but feels comfortable enough to make a drug joke with Damien in earshot (and Tyler's IC stream as Butler had it that he thought well of Damien, but this might not be considered canon). On the other hand, you could say that the Detective is wary of Damien, but he was suspicious of everyone between all the work he did and the warning he got from Mark, so it's not completely reliable.

Speaking of, I haven't forgotten about the Detective's study and how there's a record sheet for Damien with something scribbled out. Unfortunately, I don't think it's something we'll ever get clarification on. I double-checked the explanation stream and there wasn't any mention of what was on it... But I feel like I heard Mark say something like 'forget about what is there, focus on why it's there', or how it got there in the first place? Maybe it was for another project, but the idea is more that the Detective's work was built up over time, and not in the span of that weekend; rather than focusing on every little piece of writing that can be seen. Perhaps there is something shady in Damien's life... But since it wasn't relevant to the 'story' we were being shown, it was omitted. This could very well be where people take the idea of a corrupt politician and run with it (and I have seen some excellent roleplayers over the years work with that!), or they could be like me and say that the crimes were things he was framed for. Or maybe, as I'm writing this, it could be like how Abe had documents for things that didn't happen in WMLW, and that the crimes he scribbled out were ones that Dark would do later... But that's going into theorist territory and that's not at all relevant to what I'm talking about.

Anyway, I've rambled on waaay too much as it is. He's trusted and loved as a character because he's so human. Mark pointed out in the explanation stream that Damien was the only one to question what was going on. He was upset, mourning, and had no idea what to do. It's a vulnerability that you don't see from people often, especially if they are supposed to be leaders.

If there's anything people wanna add or point out, jump in and do so! :D

[vickyvicarious]

what do you make of Eliot's pre-show reputation for working alone? it makes sense for Parker and Hardison, who've always worked that way, but Eliot has a history of working as part of a team in various contexts

Yeah, it's definitely interesting! Really, Sophie never gets that label of 'always working alone' (and in fact later we see her bringing in Tara, which supports that she has friendly contacts still). It's just Parker, Hardison, and Eliot. And like you said, it makes complete sense for Parker, and even Hardison's hacking is just typically more suited to be done alone even if he is a social guy on a personal level. Eliot is different, given his history.

One thing I noticed a while ago, which is also interesting, is that Eliot's job by its very nature depends on other people. Sophie, Parker, and Hardison all steal what they want - as retrieval specialist, Eliot had to be hired. That's not to say he never just took something he wanted, necessarily, but his role majorly depended on people a) knowing of him in the first place, b) trusting his reputation enough to hire him, and c) being able to get in touch with him to hire him. I highly doubt he was handing out business cards left and right, so he had to have a network of contacts to at the very least pass his name along as an 'I know just the guy for the job' kind of thing. In fact, we see him bring in a friend on a con early in S1, and he is in contact with/does jobs for old military contacts throughout the show. (Once again, in the first episode Parker and Hardison were successfully recruited for someone else’s job, so it's not like that never happened for the others. But the general trend was that they picked their own heists; Eliot was hired on by other people.)

So we have a guy here who has a history of working on teams, a reputation as a loner, and yet still actively works for people who he has to keep on good enough terms to keep hiring him. How did that happen? In my opinion, it all comes back to Damien Moreau.

Eliot's timeline goes through some distinct phases:

Rural teen with a relatively poor family, I think they mention he played football; very all-American.

Joined the army with "a flag on his shoulder and God in his heart" or however that quote went.

Highly trained military operative involved in very classified operations.

Working for Damien Moreau.

Working solo as a retrieval specialist.

Leverage.

It's easy to track him through 1-3. He was recruited into the army with promises of heroism and glory, excelled at what he did, was eventually disillusioned. Getting from there to Moreau is a bit more of a jump, and likely didn't happen immediately. Given how protective Eliot gets over people he's working with, and how vigorously he hates betrayals of trust from his team, I think it's not unreasonable to assume that part of the reason he left the army had to do with whatever unit he was in getting very hurt. Likely in a way that made him feel he failed to protect them; maybe he was the only one who made it out of one specific situation. Maybe just a bunch of people he worked with got whittled down, or maybe it wasn't anything so deadly but he saw how little their lives mattered in the grand scheme of those in charge, saw how amoral the missions he was given were, and it was more of a gradual slide into illegality. There's also the detail that as he got into more and more classified work, he might be less and less likely to have a large group of people he could talk to/be a regular team with. Either way, I think Moreau didn't completely hire him straight out of the army, but there probably wasn't a tremendously long time between him leaving that group and joining up with Moreau.

*I originally thought Eliot didn't meet Toby until after he left Moreau, but a helpful anon corrected me on that! 'In the French Connection Job he says to Nate "I was out of the service and working for my 2nd PMC", doing wetwork.' He 'should've' killed Toby but instead stayed with him for months, 'learning how to cook and how to feel'. It certainly seems like he had gone some degree of numb after his experiences in the army and even since leaving it. His second private military contract/company... still implies he was working for organizations of some sort, though I get the impression he wasn't sticking around for terribly long times. Still, even if he then works solo retrieval type gigs for a while, I don't think he was nearly as insistent on working alone/had such a clear reputation about it, not yet.

Eliot no longer believed that he was doing good. He'd lost his naive patriotism and seems to have lost his religion for the most part as well. He didn't trust the system, but for the most part he still seemed to have faith in individuals. He still kept in touch with some old colleagues, he'd learned from Toby; he still wanted to be a part of something, even if that something couldn't be the US Army. He's a self-motivated criminal now but he still isn't averse to working with others.

Then comes Damien Moreau. Whether you read their relationship as romantic or not, it was undeniably important and personal. They knew one another well. Damien even still liked Eliot years after he'd left. There's good evidence for them having an emotionally abusive relationship where Moreau took advantage of Eliot's tendency to do things for those he cares about (I reblogged a great meta on this a little while ago). But essentially what we see here is that in all his time working for Moreau, no one else made such a strong impression on Eliot. Moreau definitely seems the type to play favorites and emotionally distance Eliot from other goons - Eliot isn't just another goon after all, he's the best. He's worthy of Damien's time and attention and specific assignments that only Eliot can be trusted to get done right. Whatever process of estrangement Eliot's superior skills may have begun, Moreau quickened until there was only one person who was the most important to him. Eliot didn't just work for him as a part of some vast criminal network by the end - no, he worked directly for and with Moreau himself. He was part of a team of two for all intents and purposes, regardless of how often he may have cooperated with others on specific jobs (though I suspect that got less frequent over time as well).

And when Eliot realized how deep he'd gotten, how terrible he'd become? He left, and left Damien Moreau specifically behind. Maybe he took a break for a while, went underground... it certainly doesn't seem like he had a conversation with Moreau and resigned so much as he just ran. And when he returned it was as a solo act. What this tells me is that not only did his time with Moreau break Eliot's trust in himself, it broke his ability to trust others. Not everyone necessarily, but in a working capacity. It probably was not the first time he'd experienced betrayal (in some form or another, his time in the army definitely qualified) but it was the most personal. Eliot trusted and liked Moreau - and he did the worst things in his entire life for him.

He couldn't repeat that. He couldn't leave himself open to getting sucked in like that again. And what's more, at this point he really didn't need to. His skills were such that he could get the job done himself (and had perhaps even honed those more solo skills while working for Moreau), and doing so meant that he never had to leave himself vulnerable to someone else like that again. He didn't have to be responsible for someone else getting hurt, and he didn't have to accept that he'd put someone else in charge of who he hurt. Eliot starts being more careful not to permanently injure or kill people, starts getting more selective with his jobs, and makes it a requirement that he works them alone. He still has to accept jobs from others, yeah, but he has ultimate control over what jobs he does accept, and if he operates purely on a freelance basis without getting too involved with any one client, then he can avoid the emotional entanglement that lead to such horrific loss of judgement in the past. It's hard, because he is naturally drawn to other people... but Eliot thinks that letting no one in is by far the safer option for everyone involved. He still builds relationships with others in order to get his name out, and may do repeat work for certain people, but no one is going to own him anymore. He is good enough that he can afford to set the terms like that; when he keeps getting the job done the word will spread that even alone he is worth the money. Eliot relies only on himself and any relationships he has are necessarily shallow. Professional, brief. This extends even to friendships (that seem to involve infrequent contact for the most part) and romantic relationships (he has plenty of sex but doesn't get emotionally close to anyone, does not fall in love). He is alone - in fact he is emphatically and outspokenly alone, because he doesn't want anyone to get their hooks in him like that ever again.

(*Doing jobs like this also limits the likelihood, especially in the beginning, that he's going to end up working for Moreau again in any real capacity. As time passes and Moreau doesn't attempt to bring him back too hard, that may become less of an issue in his mind, but it could certainly be a perk at least as the start.)

Then of course we eventually come to Leverage. It's been a while since Moreau. Eliot has built a solid reputation for himself - and he is being offered a LOT of money for a job that promises to be fairly quick. At this point, he probably feels like maybe he can trust himself as part of a team again without getting too sucked in - he will just keep it to one job and go his own way afterwards. It'll be fine.

...And then he immediately gets sucked in, bonds right away and wants so badly to stay. But even then, it's because of Nate. Eliot knows Nate, trusts him to be the 'honest man', is certain enough of Nate's moral compass that it's okay to get drawn in if Nate is the one making the plans. If it weren't for him, Eliot would have walked right away. Eliot was never going to allow himself to be ruled by others again... but Nate isn't like any of those people, he is a good man. Eliot can trust him not to lead him into anything too morally wrong, and in fact the work with Leverage is a way to bring some good back into the world. Not redeem himself, that won't ever happen, but under Nate's leadership Eliot can do something good for once. He doesn't want to stop.

By the time he moves past trusting Nate's judgement so much, he already trusts and loves the whole team. Parker and Hardison especially, so now he has to stay to keep them safe... even from Nate's plans sometimes, when he gets drunk and reckless. Eliot is secure in his role as part of a team again - and he probably was very lonely without one for all that time. It's not really in his nature to work alone long-term. And a key difference this time is that everyone else gets just as invested as he, and there's a good balance of power and respect unlike all of the more hierarchical teams he was in before (army, Moreau, they would have clear command structures - hell, even high-school football has a captain and a coach). Nate is nominally in charge but they talk back to him and lead where they have the most expertise. They dedicate themselves to him as much as he to them, they change together. And they change for the better, together.

[1dclicheficfest]

The time has come, my dears! We’ve compiled, organized and sorted your submissions and we’re ready to share them! We’ve had so much fun reading your clichés and we hope it’ll give you a good laugh.

Important disclaimer because it has to be said: we do not endorse any of the clichés submitted and these are not meant to spark Discourse™ . This is all in good fun, to spark your imagination and perhaps inspire some prompts!

Before we get to the fun part, don’t forget that prompt submissions open on February 1st and will run until March 28th. The full schedule can be found here.

And now, without further ado, here are your brilliant clichés.

HARRY

Green eyes

Huge eyes

Dimples

Always smirking

“The flirt”

Jobs: Works in a flower shop/Used to be a baker/Frat boy/LA socialite/Mermaid

“Quirky”

Clumsy/balance issues

Health nut/Workout junkie/Eats a lot of avocado and kale/loves yoga/gross green health smoothies

Very slow speech

Paints his nails

Beautiful long luscious curly hair

Long legs/large hands

Tall/large/big

Nudity/loves walking around starkers

Obsessed with being pregnant/babies

Kind to everyone

Bites his lip a lot

Tells terrible jokes/loves puns

Naive and oblivious

Clothing: Pearl necklace, Chelsea boots/gold boots/boots in general/Gucci everything/Flared, high-waisted trousers/’red and black sheer floral shirt with black skinny jeans’

Always unbuttons his shirt to show off tattoos

Baby seal laugh

Bad at driving

Hipster/takes artsy photos

Acting out for attention/Petty jealousy for no reason or because of a misunderstanding or when anyone comes near Louis

Bad dancer that gives it his all/makes awkward shapes with his limbs when trying to dance

Cat mom/Wine aunt

Resting bitch face

Rides a motorcycle

LIAM

Little clueless

Insecure

Louis is constantly messing with him

Roommates with Louis

Puppy/a lost puppy/puppy in human form/puppy eyes/puppy who doesn’t know how hot and strong he is/loves puppies

Manly muscle man/buff af/loves working out/sweet himbo beefcake

Bullied in the past

Giant heart/incredibly kind/soft/super loyal

Worry-wart/mother hen of the band/gets nervous when things don’t go to plan

Voice of reason/the responsible one/Daddy Direction/level-headed/most serious of the five/keeps the others grounded

Doesn’t know how to let loose and have fun

Lacking in experience/innocent about sex things

Oblivious to his feelings/other people’s feelings for him

Jobs: Firefighter/boxer/athlete

Super soft for Zayn

Protective

“Wants to cry as soon as Louis opens his mouth and doesn’t know if it’s because he’s scared, because it’s too funny, or because he just can’t handle any of it.”

Fear of spoons

Timid/

“being very shy/awkward in the beginning and then getting more confident because of Louis”

Snake habitat turn around!

Can’t spell

His turtle losing a foot

“Smelly pasta house”

Loves batman

Being alpha in ABOs

Unruly curly hair then trimmed to a crisp buzz

LOUIS

Blue eyes: ocean blue/blue as the sky on a sunny winter day/twinkle eyes

Arse and/or tummy as a defining feature

Sassy/sass master/feisty/snarky/cheeky/witty/playful/funny/sarcastic/joker

Flamboyant

Heart of gold/”Louis IS the sun”

“Does not suffer fools gladly (that’s your job you fooking loosah)”/hot-headed to pick fights only in defense of those he loves

Protective/Mama bear/loyal/Daddy of the group

Small/Dainty stature emphasized

Runs fingers through his fringe/hair always styled

Jobs: Footie player, teacher, drama teacher, actor, plays in a band

Loves music and writes songs

Plays footie (even if it’s not his job)

LOUD

Can’t cook/chicken wrapped in parma/”Can’t cook to save his life and if he does the kitchen ends up in flames”

Soft with Harry

School: Studying drama, being the bad boy, pop!punk Louis

Bratty/petty/snappy

Smoking

Zayn’s partner in crime

Rooms with Liam

Calls everyone ‘love’/uses too many terms of endearment

Yorkshire accent emphasized/always talks about Doncaster

Clothing: Vans or Adidas shoes/Toms/trackies/braces/red jeans/dressing in comfortable clothes only/no socks/scarf

Very good with kids/loves kids/family-oriented/looking after siblings/having a huge family

Eats junk food only

“The gay who cannot drive”

NIALL

Drinks a lot/Drinks everyone under the table because he’s Irish/Guinness lover/fun drunk/Will sing Gaelic folk songs when drunk/big social drinker-always making friends via alcohol/will kiss anyone when drunk

Food: Eats all the food/doesn’t season his food/loves Nando’s/”100% will take the last slice of pizza and not feel bad about it”/can and will eat you out of house and home/actually eats and cooks healthy but everyone thinks the opposite

Irish/Irish and proud/Wey Hey lads!/leprechaun Niall

Carefree/nothing bothers him

Romantic: falls fast and hard

Captain Niall!/Captain of the ship(s)

Music: guitar always present/Goes into the zone when he has an instrument in his hands - nothing will distract or get through to him/The Eagles fanboy/Damien Rice fanboy

Funny/always laughing/joking around/head back cackle of a laugh

Single/hooks up with a ton of people but no serious relationships/sleeps around/Serial Ladies man/Friends with benefits with multiple people at once/

Turns up the charm 100% and never half-asses it/”Scrunches his hair in thought and knows he looks cute doing so (like girls that purposefully bite their lip)”

Friends with literally everyone/has a thousand surface-level friends that think they’re close to him but keeps all at arm’s length/the greatest friend but also pickiest about who he becomes friends with

Clothing: Constantly shirtless/shorts over trousers/flip-flops as house shoes/gold chain/coin necklace/hoop earring/”golf dad that tucks in his shirts and unironically wears polos”

Obsessed with golf and football/practices his putt in the hallway with an empty loo roll

A bro

Secretly insightful/Tactless but gives essential advice as a result

Secretive/keeps his shit quiet/Definitely the guy with the most secrets

The blond one

Hairy chest

Worst poker face

Finger guns/peace signs

Blushes when he’s excited

Adores Shawn and Lewis

Cares a lot about what others think

Says no judgment but really judges a lot/judges you based on music taste

Rings in at 0 on the gaydar but could surprise you/the only het one

Tries to avoid conflict by remaining ‘on the fence’ and not picking a side

Always the roommate

Face mask selfies

Emotions rotate between sad, sexy, and fun - combination vary

Never a villain

Close with Harry

“Violent masturbating in the next room”

Constant pet names for everyone/”Even has pet names for his devices (like his vacuum robot”

ZAYN

Super smart/nerd/wise/The Ravenclaw

Smokes a lot

Secretly very soft/gentle/biggest heart/”His confidence and aloofness hide a sensitive heart of gold”/Bad boy secretly soft

Heart-eyes at Liam/Soft with Liam/”Lee-yum”

Mysterious eyes

Best friends with Louis

Jobs: Artist, tattoo artist, English teacher who loves art, works in comic book store,

Shy/withdrawn/mysterious/brooding best friend/quiet/”Seems intimidating until you realize he’s just shy”/bad boy outside, soft boy inside/”not as cool as he seems but way sweeter”

The artistic one/tortured artist/art student/skater/also does graffiti/spray-paint

Marvel fan/comic book fan/superhero fan

Clothing: Wears his clothes like armor/leather jacket/”He’s the only one with good taste and he knows it”

Most ‘devil may care’ about his sexuality

Family-oriented/family man

Involved with his religion

Model figure/carved by gods/vain but not obnoxious about it

Catchprase is ‘sick’

Needs time alone to recharge

Changes his hair a lot/that one strand of hair that falls over his eyes

Thinks Malibu is called Malabami

“Eats candy underwear off of Harry’s crotch”

[slowly-writing]

Almost Lost You

Jennifer Jareau x Reader

Word count: 2.3K

Requested by: n/a

Warnings: canon typical violence

This case was stumping the entire team. The dump sites had seemingly no correlation, so Ried’s geographical profile was out the window. The MO was all over the place which made it hard to nail down a profile on the unsub. The only thing that proved these murders were connected was the flowers the unsub was leaving in the victim’s hand, and even with that you were beginning to question it all.

“Does anyone else feel like their brain is melting?” JJ groans and you feel inclined to agree.

“Your brain can’t actually melt. You could boil the water in your brain but the fatty tissues that make up the majority of it are harder to break down,” Spencer says and you smile, at least his facts are always consistent.

“That’s not what she means, Spence. It’s a metaphor. She means she’s tired of getting nowhere with the case and she feels like all the work is physically hurting her,” you explain and he nods in understanding, looking at JJ whose head is now laying on the table of the conference room the three of you have hunkered down in.

“Did you know it’s actually proven that fresh air can increase productivity and reduce stress?” Spencer pipes up again and you chuckle as you rise from your seat, grabbing JJ’s shoulders and coaxing her up.

“Good call doc. I think I’m gonna take her outside for a bit before she puts that brain melting theory to the test. You take a break too, alright? Even geniuses have a breaking point,” you wait until he agrees to stop for a bit to lead JJ outside.

“It just feels so messy. Like there’s no way to get through it all,” JJ has tears in her eyes as she looks up at you and your heart breaks at her obvious frustration. You often wonder how JJ got into a field like this, so painful and gruesome. She has such a tender heart, if you had met her outside of work you would’ve guessed she was a teacher, maybe a social worker, but certainly not a profiler whose job was to hunt down some of the worst people the world had to offer.

“I know it feels like this will never end, but it will. I promise it will, because we’re not going anywhere until we catch this creep. Hotch and Emily are interviewing the victim’s families again as we speak and Morgan and Rossi are at the crime scenes. They will all get us some more to work on and eventually we’ll nail this guy.”

“You promise?” JJ’s voice is soft and you can’t resist the urge to pull her into your arms, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“I do. Are you ready to go back in?” JJ nods and you pull away, “then let’s go crack this case.”

xxxxx

“Rose Allen, Jessica Phillips, and Sara Parker have been found dead. Now I don’t know about you guys but I sure as hell don’t want a fourth name added to that list,” Morgan snaps, slamming his hand on the table. You all look up from your notes at the outburst, and none of you blame him. JJ grabs your hand under the table and it calms you both as tensions rise in the room.

“What do you think we’re doing here? None of us want this to go on. We’re trying our best,” Emily knuckles are turning white as she clenches her first.

“Okay let’s all calm down. If we all put our head together then we can crack this. So, the women disappear from their daily routines, they are gone for a week before being found in various locations with different causes of death. What does that tell us?” Hotch starts the discussion and everyone settles in to work.

“He’s obviously stalking them. He knows their routines and is able to grab them without anybody seeing,” Rossi is the first to join in and you nod along.

“And the manner of the killing isn’t important to him, as long as they die. With victim number one we have strangulation, then stabbing, and last dehydration. He doesn’t care how they die as long as he can see them suffer,” your brow is furrowed as you think out loud.

“The flowers obviously mean a lot to him, right? It’s the only consistency,” Emily jumps in and everyone voices their agreement.

“They’re yellow roses. Those symbolize friendship, maybe these women told him they just wanted to be friends?” JJ says and you think she’s onto something until Spencer speaks up.

“Historically yellow roses have a different meaning. Now they are known to symbolize friendship but they actually used to stand for infidelity or unfaithfulness. He could’ve had a childhood trauma involving an unfaithful individual that still haunts him,” Hotch perks up as Reid finishes.

“Rose and Jessica’s family members said they were having relationship troubles, Sara’s family didn’t have much to say, but with how hostile her fiancé was, I’d bet my career that their relationship was rocky,” the analysis makes sense, at least it’s a start.

“Okay, so we have an unsub targeting people whose relationships are failing. Considering he targeted the girls I’d guess they were the ones who were unfaithful, who would know if they were?” Rossi asks and you all think through the list.

“If it was me I’d only tell my closest friends,” you say and try not to wince at the way JJ’s head snaps to face you. “I’m speaking hypothetically of course. I’ve never cheated so I don’t know what it’s like in that situation. I can only make an educated guess on the thoughts and feelings the victims were having in the moment,” you stare ahead as you say it, nobody knows you and JJ are together, and this is not how you want them to find out. “That was a poor choice of words,” you say and Emily raises an eyebrow at you.

“Ignoring y/n’s over explanation of how she’s never cheated on anyone,” Emily says slowly and you avoid eye contact. “None of these women shared friends. Garcia couldn’t even find evidence that they knew each other, let alone had the same confidants.”

“When Will and I went through all that we went to a relationship counselor. Is it possible they saw the same one?” JJ asks and Garcia pipes up for the first time.

“I can have that answer in just a few moments,” the sound of a keyboard can be heard through the computer, “aha! According to their credit card records they all saw Dr. Damien who is a well renowned relationship counselor in the area. She was, however, out of state for a conference when Rose and Jessica’s bodies were found and did not return until after Sara was reported missing.”

“It could still be someone in her office. Receptionist, coworker, hell even a janitor,” Morgan seems as desperate as you all feel.

“I have a receptionist who was working during all three intake appointments, Jacob Daniels and-oh gosh-At age 8 his father murdered his mother, in the trial he claimed it was because she was cheating with the neighbor who denied the allegations. Regardless there was no family and Jacob bounced around the foster system until he aged out five years ago. Three months ago he landed a job in Dr. Damien’s office and within a month and a half the first murder was commited,” Garcia relays the information, her eyes wide.

“That would be the stressor. Hearing about the failing relationships was too much for Daniels and he snapped. Garcia, do you have an address?” Hotch asks as you all stand, grabbing your gear.

“Like you even have to ask. Be safe my lovelies,” Garcia tells you all as she ends the call.

xxxxx

“Jacob Daniels FBI! Open up!” Hotch yells as he bangs on the door. You hear a crash inside and Morgan takes that as his cue to kick open the door. You’re the first inside and Daniels freezes when he sees the guns trained on him. He may be damaged, but he knows he can’t outrun a bullet. Instead he grabs a knife and points it towards you.

“Stay back!” He yells and you raise your hands, holstering your gun before speaking.

“I just want to talk, Jacob. Can we do that?” you ask and you can see him shaking as he looks between you, Morgan, Hotch, and Ried. Everyone else is still en route.

“They needed to die,” Jacob starts and you blink in surprise as he jumps straight into it.

“Why?” he focuses more on you, relaxing despite the three guns still pointed at him. You inch forward as he begins to talk.

“They didn’t know how to love. No woman knows how to love!” He yells.

“Now that’s not a fair statement, plenty of women know what love is,” you say and you can hear the other team calling their ETA through the comms, but you’re hoping to have this wrapped up before the three minutes it will take them to get here are up.

“Do you? Know how to love? Do you have someone?” Jacob’s voice is soft, almost a whisper as he desperately tries to prove himself wrong. You’re only a few feet away now, and he’s slowly lowering the knife. If you can just get a few inches closer you can grab it.

“I do. She is the most important person in my life.” Out of the corner of your eye you can see the confusion on your team’s faces but you don’t have time to focus on them right now. “I can’t tell you why someone would cheat on the love of their life, but I can tell you I never would. A few bad people isn’t a reason to give up on love or life. They hurt people, but they didn’t hurt you Jacob,” his head snaps up and you quickly realize that was the wrong thing to say. He lunges for you and before anyone can get a shot off he has your back pressed to his chest and his knife to your throat.

“Woah calm down man!” Morgan yells, his panic alerting the rest of the team that this just went south.

“Let her go, Jacob,” Hotch’s words inform the team that he has you, the only female in the room. He doesn’t waver though, ever the calm one in the storm. You can hear the tires of the other SUV squealing to a stop outside. Lucky for you so can Daniels and you use his distraction to slam your eyebrow into his ribs. His grip on you loosens and you’re able to take him down. Morgan takes over, cuffing him as you feel a body slam into yours. JJ throws her arms around your neck and you wrap one arm around her waist, the other cradling her head as you let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m okay,” you tell her and she lets out a shaky breath before pulling away from you completely.

“You idiot!” she yells slapping your shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” your hand goes to the place she just smacked, though it didn't hurt much.

“Why would you get so close to him! He could’ve killed you!” She slaps your other shoulder and you groan.

“But he didn’t. I thought I could disarm him, but it's okay now. So can we just agree it was a dumb move and stop hitting me please?” you ask and JJ pulls you into a hug again. You wanna laugh at her conflicting emotions, but you know how scared she is.

“I almost lost you,” she whispers and you sigh.

“You didn’t. I know it was scary, but I’m okay.”

“I could hear the whole thing.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise that I’m okay. You didn’t lose me,” you tell her and she nods, pulling away again. The bubble the two of you have been in is popped as you both turn to see the whole team staring at you, Morgan apparently having passed Daniels off to local officers to make sure you were okay.

“How long has this been going on?” Morgan asks and you look to JJ.

“Six months?” you ask her and she nods. You turn back to the team and nod, “yeah, six months.”

“How did we not notice?” Rossi asks and you laugh.

“I was thinking the same thing. Some profilers you are,” JJ teases them but they all seem to be in too much shock to register it.

“So when you went on that rant about not cheating…” Emily trails off and you roll your eyes.

“Did seriously none of you notice how she was looking at me? I thought I was gonna be the next murder victim!” They all laugh and JJ looks at you.

“You ever cheat on me and you will be,” she says simply with her arm wrapped around your waist and a smile on her face.

“How do you say such aggressive things but look so cute doing it?” you ask, wrapping your arm around her shoulder and placing a kiss on the top of her head. “But I would never cheat on you, my love. I’d have to be an idiot to risk losing you. There’s nobody in the world I’d rather be with.”

“As cute as this is, I’m ready to get out of here,” Morgan teases and you roll your eyes.

“Let’s finish up here and we can talk more on the way home,” Hotch says and you all nod.

“And we know Garcia is gonna want all the details, I wouldn’t mind them either, so drinks when we get back?” Emily offers and you agree.

“Sounds like a plan.”

tag list: (let me know if you want to be added or taken off)

@rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @im-salt-but-not-salty @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff

Criminal Minds tag list: @reidingandwriting

[whumpforthewin]

The Answer - 2

((NSFW Content under the cut))

Jack had fucked up big time. Sure, he’d fucked up a lot in his twenty years of experience but this had to be one of the worst. Some guy had paid extra to use toys. Normally Jack thought they took too much time but they guy had paid a lot. And Jack couldn’t just turn down free money. 

But now he was trapped. The man had gotten him into a spreader bar, which wasn’t too bad. But he’d flipped Jack over and gotten him in cuffs. He struggled but the man smacked his ass hard and stopped, still struggling to get his breathing under control.

“You’re too pale, love.” Jack snarled at the name. “Let’s add some color to your cheeks.” He’d brought out a necktie, but Jack felt like it was more of a noose. The man would pull it tight, watch Jack struggle, flail as much as he could, before loosening the tie enough for Jack to suck in a breath, never letting Jack pass out and escape this hell. 

The man pushed into him and Jack let out a whine. He wasn’t nearly prepped enough for this. But then he started tightening the tie. 

“Yeah, bitch, struggle, that’s what I like, tighten, god you feel so good around my dick. You were made for this sweetheart. Fuck,” the man was babbling. 

It sounded far away to Jack. The blood was rushing in his ears. He wasn’t loosening the tie. The edges of his vision were swimming. This guy was going to kill him. Too busy chasing his own pleasure to realize he was killing the person providing it. 

Suddenly the weight was gone. All of it. The tie, the man, nothing. Jack was too busy gasping in air to know what had happened. 

But he soon came to his senses. 

He was not alone in the room. 

But it was also not the same man as before. 

“You’re money’s on the table. I didn’t take any of it.” The man’s voice was rich and smooth, like whatever liquor he was drinking. 

“Who are you?” That seemed to be the most pressing question. He ignored how rough his voice sounded. He rubbed his wrists realizing he was free of the cuffs and the spreader bar.

“You can call me Dark.”

Jack let out a strangled laugh. “Really? What kind a emo name is that?” He couldn’t see the man’s expression and weak as he was he shouldn’t really be egging on a guy he knew absolutely nothing about. He was silhouetted by the window and he looked broader than Jack. 

The man just sighed. “It’s my last name. Damien Dark.” 

“Isn’t that a DC villain?” God Jack wished he could just shut up. 

But Dark let out a low chuckle and stood. “More than likely. You can decide how fitting the name is or not.” He moved into the lamp light and oh hell, this guy certainly looked like a villain. 

Tall, dark, and mysterious had nothing on this guy. Jack was suddenly very aware he was still naked, though a sheet had been thrown over him. 

“Or you can use my middle name, Mark.”

“Your name is Damien Mark Dark?” Jack asked. He was trying to take this guy seriously but his name was too ridiculous. 

“Damien Marcus Dark, Mark for short if you really must,” he said with a sign. 

“Why not Damien?” Jack asked, half genuinely curious, half wondering if he had a weird reason.

The smile he gave was downright villainous. “People don’t call me Damien and survive. I just saved your life, don’t make me regret it so soon,” Dark said coolly. 

Jack swallowed. “Starting to see why people call you Dark.” He let out a strained laugh “Uh, where’d the other guy go?” Jack asked looking anywhere but Dark. 

“He had to leave.” Jack glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Dark’s mouth was curved down into a small frown. “He won’t be contacting you again.” 

“Did you kill him?” Jack didn’t mean to sound as panicked as he did. 

“The man is unfortunately still breathing,” Dark said but didn’t elaborate and Jack wasn’t sure he wanted him to. But now that he wasn’t in immediate danger of dying, he realized why Dark was still here. 

“I guess I should thank ya,” Jack said. He pulled the sheet off and got to his knees on the bed. 

“That won’t be necessary. This was a favor for a friend.” Dark’s hungry eyes traveled up and down his body. “But if you’re free I can certainly pay for some of your time.” 

Jack was a bit stunned. This guy had saved his life, seemingly out of nowhere, Jack didn’t really have friends, and wasn’t going to take the freebie Jack was offering. Jack didn’t get it. He wasn’t going to complain, Dark was actually really hot, but he didn’t get it. 

“Okay.” His voice was rough again with an emotion he couldn’t name. “Can I suck you off? I’m not exactly prepped for sex, but I mean if you want to…” Jack trailed off. 

Dark cupped his cheek in a surprisingly gentle move. “It’s okay, pet, only what you’re comfortable with.” 

Jack short circuited for a moment. “Lay down.” He said instead of acknowledging the gentle gesture. 

Dark swiped his thumb over Jack’s bottom lip before complying and laying down. Jack could see his dick tenting his pants and without seeing it directly Jack could tell he was big. But that made sense. He was a big person. 

Jack nuzzled his crotch and mouthed it a bit before pulling it out of his nice pants. And he was big, not like, insanely large. But proportional. 

Jack started slow. 

Maybe it was the fact he came close to dying tonight. Maybe it was because Dark was really attractive, but Jack wanted to go slow. And Dark seemed content to let him go at his own pace. 

He was quiet, but Jack focused on the hitches in Dark’s breathing, or when a moan would slip out. 

Even as he came he was quiet. Jack did his best to swallow all he could. But he could feel some dripping down his chin. 

He pulled off Dark with a lewd pop. 

“Come here,” Dark said, pulling him up. 

Jack’s breath hitched. “Sorry, I don’t usually do cuddles.” Jack tried to get out of Dark’s grip. But he was as strong as he looked. 

“Humor me. You’ve been through a lot tonight.” Jack settled a bit nervously on Dark’s chest. 

They laid there for a few minutes before Dark spoke again. His chest rumbled as he spoke and Jack found it surprisingly soothing. 

“Do you want to take back a little more control?” 

Jack glanced up at him. “What?”

Dark untucked his tie from his vest. “A little breath play can be fun. You don’t have to. But if you were curious as to how to do it properly.”

Jack blinked at him in a way that could only be considered owlish. “I could hurt you.”

“Unlikely, but it’s up to you,” Dark said with more confidence than Jack had. 

“Maybe, maybe later,” Jack said, putting his head back down on Dark’s chest. 

Dark wrapped his arms around Jack, he placed a soft kiss on his cheek before settling back. “Of course pet, just rest for a bit.” 

Jack didn’t mean to fall asleep on Dark’s chest. But it was the best sleep he’d gotten in years.

I will be making a master post at the end for The Answer!

- Tag List! Lemme know if you want to be added to it!

@whumper-in-training

[straightouttaneptune]

You’ll come with me, won’t you?

Pairing: Harley Quinn x Reader

Warning: It’s different. Joker is a bitch. Reader becomes kind of morally weird as the fic progresses. People die. 

Summary: Y/N is a baby psychiatrist, who just started out. Suddenly, she is trusted with the most feared case of all. Harleen Quinzel. Y/N thinks it’ll be good for her career, or will it?

A/N: I couldn’t find a good ending to this for the longest time, I’m so glad I did. Also, this is for my 500 followers fic queue :) Thank you for the love, darlings✨

—————————————————————

“Harleen Quinzel?”

That was a name you’d heard before. That was a name everyone’s heard before, at least once in their lives. But it was not the name that had surprised you, but it was the fact that her name was right there on top of your long patient list.

“Yeah, congrats Y/N. She’s pretty famous around here. Straighten her out and you’ll probably be in the big city in less than a year.” Your colleague, Megan peered into your books over your shoulders and patted your back affectionately.

You were one of the new psychiatrists in the business, and you had been dealing with criminal minors, the less mental mental patients and all the clients that newbies would usually handle. Being fresh out of university after holing up in the labs and libraries, you needed to gain some experience first before taking on the really hard cases.

Or... that’s what you were told.

“C’mon, Meg, you gotta know more than that. Why would they pass her case to me? She’s a rank SS psycho.” You pushed, looking up at her through your lashes in a slightly accusatory manner.

She gave you a look that asked; “Do you really want to know?” And you nodded.

“Well, I heard the other docs, the guys who were like 10, 20, hell, 30 years into the business, they all got their brains scrambled by... this girlie.” Her index finger landed on the profile photo of Harley Quinn, an apologetic look in her eyes.

You rolled your eyes, not necessarily at Megan, but at whoever it was that tried to deal this card to you. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“It’s cruel, but you can always turn it down, y’know?” Megan set her books aside, her left arm cradling your slumped shoulders.

“Yeah... But I might not.”

Megan’s dropped gaze snapped back up, her eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a good way to kick-start my career, I guess.”

\|/

“Hello, new doc.” The moment you entered the room, you regretted making this decision immediately. Harley Quinn sat in a big contraption-looking chair, her hands and feet shackled onto the armrests and legs of the seat. Her platinum blonde hair was untied and unkempt, its bottoms still dyed red and blue, although it seemed to have faded over time.

The only thing dividing the space between you and Harley was a metallic table bolted on the floor, wide enough so even if Harley broke off her arm shackles and reached for you, she wouldn’t be able to touch you. You swallowed your nerves and entered the room with a confident stride, smiling sweetly at the guards as they closed the door with eyes of concern.

“Hello, Miss Quinzel.” You thanked heavens that your words came out right, especially in front of a woman who could sniff out people’s fears from thousands of miles away.

“You’re the first girl I’ve had.” She mused, her eyes twinkling with mischief. But the light in her eyes has lost its original color, you thought. She looked much more lively in photos taken way back then. When she was just a psychiatrist.

“Hm. I guessed that it would be nice to have some heart to heart, female to female.” You reassured your anxious self calmly in your head, repeating the words ‘you got this, Y/N.’

“Do you know why I’m here, and not... Damien? Who usually comes in for your check-ups?” Stowing your clipboard away on your lap, you continued.

“Yeah. Before him was another guy, then a grandpa and just... a buncha stupid-lookin’ guys. But I didn’t like them.” She replied as if it was the most simple thing in the world. The files back in the company would argue differently. Every single guy, either was tormented by her psychotic attacks or totally gone insane from her mental tricks.

“Are you going to do the same thing to me?” You asked, not really knowing what answer to expect. Your eyes remained soft, a small smile gracing your lips as you waited for her answer.

“No. I like ya.” She answered quickly, shrugging and adverting her gaze away to look down at her shackles. “Can I sit down like you?” She shook her wrist lightly, the chains rattling against the armrest.

“Maybe next time, Miss Quinzel.”

“There’s a next time? Yeah!”

You internally smiled to yourself, what a successful human being she would’ve been if not for a man like Joker to ruin her life. Right then, you vowed to whatever higher power was out there, that you’d get Harley Quinn to break free from his spell.

The people in your office were surprised, to say the least, that you were able to keep up your visits to the prison, and that an amateur therapist like you could get the queen of Gotham in a tight little leash. You didn’t like to think about it like that, but rather that she trusts you better than any of the others.

The weekly visits became 2 days a week, and from weeks of good behavior, Harley was allowed to be without handcuffs during her sessions now. You weren’t afraid she’d leap up and strangle you, because of some sort of connection the two of you formed after all those times spent together.

“Hey doc, why can’t you visit me more ‘round here?” Harley pouted, interrupting the current therapy session with an abrupt comment.

You looked up from your clipboard, dumbfounded. Why would she want to have you around more?

“Harley, I’m just your therapist.” You tapped the end of your pencil against the material of the clipboard, locking eyes with the woman. Anyone could see that she was starting to look better, particularly her eyes. They looked more human, compared to the hollow shell they used to be.

“I know, Y/N. But I’ve been doin’ some thinkin. It’s pretty fuckin clear that Mister J isn’t coming for me, and the suicide squad was probably just a one-time thing. And... You’re all I have.” She admitted, slowly sliding down from her pipe chair and laying down on the concrete floor.

The wooden chair you sat on scraped against the hard floor as you pushed it back. Standing up from your seat, you walked over to her in 3 steps. You kneeled down beside her, her skin just inches away from you. “Do you want a hug?” You questioned quietly, your voice softer and more inviting than usual. Harley felt this too, sitting up in a millisecond just as the offer left your lips.

“Yeah.” She almost crawled over to you, her arms wrapping around your neck desperately. That would’ve been terrifying if it was out of context, but she actually wasn’t trying to kill you. She genuinely just wanted a warm embrace.

You felt her slender torso tighten and loosen as if she was trying to repress a sob. Hand carefully sliding over her back, you whispered; “Let it out.”

And she did.

\|/

Time flew by as you continued to work on her case, and you fell into the worst situation a psychiatrist could possibly be in while working. You grew emotionally invested in your client. As a friend, who cared for her well being and happiness. 

Maybe... even more.

You still didn’t know if you could trust her though, you managed to keep a cool head and your mind was rational, but that only confirmed the fact that Harley wasn’t playing any tricks on you. That you were genuinely becoming attached to the beautiful prisoner.

Harley, on the other hand, did intend on ruining you at first. Make them run back to where they came from crying, so no one would disturb her again while she waited for her puddin.

But it was all starting to feel different with you.

“Hey, doc?” Harley called out from inside her electric cage. She was being a little bit mischievous that day, and she pulled an armed guard against the buzzing bars when he wasn’t looking. He probably died, she guessed.

But she didn’t like that she couldn’t be near you during your sessions. So a man died, big deal!

“Can you let me out?” She pleaded in the sweetest voice she could muster, calling out to you who was currently propped up on the usual desk, writing down some notes on your clipboard.

“No, Harley. I don’t have the keys to your cell.” You replied without looking up, but you could imagine the cute pout that Harley had when you denied her of something.

“But would you open it if you did?” You looked up at that question, seeing her smiling from ear to ear now, anticipation glowing in her eyes.

“Maybe. I know you won’t hurt me.” You smiled back at her, watching her facial expression carefully. How would she react if you showed some warm friendliness towards her? Could she possibly return to the life she used to have?

“Maybe I will, doc. You don’t know what goes on in here.” Harley leaped up to her cloth swing she’d made for herself, her now almost completely platinum hair draping down her back.

“I hope you won’t hurt me, then.”

You couldn’t forget that split second where Harley’s eyes looked more humane than it ever has been for many, many years.

\|/

“Warning. Warning. Escape Attempt in Sector 9H11.”

The sound of the speaker and the blasting alarm merged together in a chorus of chaos, guards and officers running around to stop whoever the escapee was.

It was 9:30AM and you were just about to enter the asylum for your shift, when this sudden noise almost blasted your ears off. Before you could process what was happening, a bomb went off right next to you, making you scream and clutch your head as you ducked.

The debris fell everywhere along with broken pieces of concrete, and you just stayed there trying to collect your thoughts. Right when a random hand grabbed you by your wrist. 

“Hi, doc. I was lookin’ for ya. You’ll come with me, won’t you?” Harley pulled you to the side, hiding the two of you behind a few bushes. Her eyes were electric making you realize that the true “Harleen Quinzel” you’ve been trying to look for is right in front of you now.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” You didn’t hesitate to take her outreached hand. Your mind had already been made up since the first time you laid your eyes on her. 

[imonthinice]

are you taking requests? if so can you pls use the line "is there a problem here, gentlemen?" in a story?

BONUS STORY! 2ND UPLOAD OF THE DAY?? CRAZY. (if there is a second upload it’ll be at 6pm EST)

Author's Note: You fucking bet your bottom dollar that I'm going to do that.

Y/N - Your name

Batfam + batsis story. Y/N is the newest daughter of Bruce Wayne and is following in everyone’s footsteps as the youngest, in years of service, vigilante of the crew. They hold a gala with villains.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: LMAo Angst whoops, no spoilers but injury and description of injury, Swearing, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd amen

One-Shot. Not in the Criminal Psychology Majors Continuity.

Y/N packed up her knives into her thigh holsters, apparently, Bruce thought it was a good idea to hold a gala with the known villains of the world. And the kids had to handle it if it got out of hand, Why the fuck are we doing this, She thought, This is a stupid idea.

"Kids, I know you all think this is stupid-" Bruce tried to say before he was cut off.

"You could fucking say that again." Jason snapped at him.

"Kids, I know you all think this is stupid." Y/N mocked Bruce.

"Okay, okay, I get it. It’s a dumb idea.”

“Again, no fucking shit, Sherlock Holmes,” Tim said.

“You guys really don’t need to gang up on me like this,” Bruce tried to say.

“Gang up on you?! You’re the one all like ‘Hey kids! We’re going to do a gala with villains hehe! I hope u don’t mind xoxo.’ Shut the fuck up, Bruce,” Y/N snapped.

“Do you even want to go with that attitude?”

“No! I think that’s pretty fucking obvious!” she snapped again as she went to go grab one of her guns, but Bruce grabbed her arms.

“No. Guns,” he said, trying to be stern with her.

“No. Villains. In. The. House. Oh wait. You’re an idiot, I forgot, silly me,” she mocked before struggling out of his grasp and grabbed her guns and holstered them, one on each side, ambidextrous shooter because she had learned from Jason, quick with knifes and throwing them as well.

“Y/N, there’s no need to be so violent with me,” Bruce tried to say to get her to calm down.

“You just better hope none of those villains make a fucking move, Bruce.”

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

At the party, she wore combat boots and a cat suit under her dress, just so she could slip it off and go into action just as quickly. Her vigilante name was Syndicate, because when she named herself she thought she had the same values as Bruce and his kids. After time progressed, she realized that she was a lot more like Jason than she cared to admit.

They both carried guns into that party like no one was watching and telling them not to. They didn’t trust the villains in their house in any capacity, and that was obvious from both of their outbursts earlier in the day. They were the outliers in the batfam. The ones who did agree with some of what they were shown, but guns and death were necessary sometimes. She and Jason were the true Syndicate.

It was a masquerade ball, so everyone’s faces were hidden, but Jason had his white hair streak, so she knew where to go to talk about the gala and what they would do if the villains attacked the rest of them, and she did so.

Walking over to Jason, she could feel the eyes of many men around her, not everyone recognized her as the newest daughter of Bruce Wayne, so eyes were hungry and they wanted to dance the night away with the temptress. She thought that dating was idiotic, though. And especially if it was a villain trying to sweep her off of her feet.

“May I have this dance, milady?” Jason asked.

“Yes,” she said while accepting his outstretched hand and they went to twirl around the dance floor when she leaned into his ear, “I don’t trust these fucks, Jason,” she whispered.

“Who the fuck does trust it,” he whispered back.

“We need to be on our toes.”

“You’re already on your toes, dancing with me,” he joked.

“You’re the worst, Jason. I mean it.”

“When do you not. But I’m your favourite brother and you know it,” he said as he dipped her.

“While that may be true,” she stopped when she caught some of the people leaving to the backdoor, “We have an issue,” she whispered and pointed towards the people leaving.

“Son of a bitch.” 

And they were off as fast as they could without drawing suspicion.

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

“Is there a problem here, Gentlemen?” Jason asked when they met up with the people trying to snoop, they assumed.

“Yes, there is,” one of the mystery men said as he pulled a gun and pointed it at Jason, “And it’s you, son.”

“Cute! He even brought his little girlfriend with him!” one of the other men exclaimed as he snooped closer towards Y/N and pulled a gun on her too.

“Festive, truly, you three are,” she said, staring down the barrel of the gun.

“Shut it, girl,” the second man commanded.

“No thanks,” she said as she grabbed the barrel of the gun and struggled it out of her face, it misfired and hit a few different areas of the wall behind her, at the same time, Jason had managed to get the gun out of his attacker’s hands and was pointing it back at him.

She continued to one-hand hold the gun while she tried to find the handle of one of her knives. She managed to grab it and fling it into the shoulder of the third, not speaking, man’s shirt and pin him to the wall. The struggle for the gun was still on though, but she was able to get her other hand onto the gun when it fired off.

 Jason was busy attacking the other two men to notice that Y/N had been shot in the shoulder, and too busy to realize that the party had been evacuated and Bruce was up his ass in texts asking where he and Y/N were.

Y/N slumped to the ground, clutching her wound when the man turned his gun on Jason, she used her boots to her advantage and kicked the man to the floor as hard as she could. Jason ended up being able to tie the three men to each other within 10 minutes, while Y/N was bleeding out on the floor, he didn’t notice she was shot till she was clutching on for her life.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he whispered as he tried to lug her off the ground and run to the front entrance, where he could hear the ambulances going off. When she whispered to him, “I’m...” she breathed, “Sorry...” she breathed again, “Jay,” she didn’t breathe again.

He sat there in shock,, clutching his dead sister’s body in his arms and making no noise when the paramedics rushed in and saw the damage. The called in for the coroner, and went to get Jason off of her.

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

In the police station, they told Jason that they just needed him to explain his story, even though they had the footage. Bruce was pressing charges against the men, later to be Harvey Dent and two of his accomplices, for the death of his daughter.

Bruce had not seen his son since the incident, but things were moving quickly and he would get to see him again when the police finished their interviews. But Jason was struggling to get his words out, so they let Bruce go see his son and try to comfort him.

“Jay?” Bruce asked, trying to see if Jason would even look at him, he didn’t, so Bruce went and just hugged his son while he cried into his dad’s shoulder, “I know, son. You did your best.”

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

The funeral for Y/N involved a lot of crying from every batfam member. Even Damien, who struggled to show Y/N a lot of love, cried like no one was watching at his big sister’s grave. He actually laid beside her grave once she was buried for a while as everyone was telling stories about her. Dick found him and picked him up to take him inside. 

No one held resentment for Jason and him not noticing, they all saw the tapes, she didn’t make a damn noise until she was dying in his arms. Stubborn bitch, Jason had joked and everyone had laughed. They could at least remember Y/N for who she was before she died.

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

The trial was long and winded. Harvey, thank god, confessed in his interigation so he pled guilty to being an accessory to murder. However, both of his accomplices, even the man who shot her, pled not guilty to all charges. So the trial was hard.

Jason testified in court about how he thought she’d be okay, she could carry her own, but the gun shots were so loud and he very easily shot her. Then his lawyer started saying it was self defense.

The rest of the trial started to blur for all of them. But all of them were found guilty for the murder.

The victim’s statement to determined the death penalty was said by Bruce.

“Your Honor, these men took away my daughter. And I honestly don’t want them to get the death penalty. I want them to rot away in a prison. The poor girl was only 19, I want them to spend at least 20 years behind bars, sitting there, knowing they killed my baby girl,” he paused to wipe a tear, “I wish we weren’t here and she got to grow up and have kids. She’ll never know her nieces and nephews, the people her siblings marry, or even get married,” he paused again.

“I want my daughter back, but we’ll never get that. So, Your Honor, I ask for you to not give mercy for these men, Your Honor. Thank you.”

The men got life in prison without the possibility of parole.

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

Damien actually took his partner to meet his big sister first, before explaining the story to them. He still finds it hard to talk about how she died.

Tim goes to her grave a lot and tells her stories about his life and how he’s doing without her. He always leaves telling her that he loves her.

Barbara visits often as well. Just to talk to her. She says a lot about the missions they go on without her and how the team isn’t complete anymore, and how she worries Jason will never recover from this event.

Cassie doesn’t go often, the memories of Y/N are enough for her most of the time, but she goes every holiday and on Y/N’s birthday just to greet her and say that she loves her.

Steph seems to still have trouble accepting the fact that Y/N is gone. Maybe it's because they fought the night before and it would have been resolved so easily had she not died. It hurts everyone to see Steph talk about it.

Dick will sit at her grave for hours, he’s the one to clean her grave when it gets dirty. He doesn’t always talk to her, but when he does he asks her if she’s met his parents and if they’re proud of him. He’ll probably never know the answer to it, but he likes to think the wind that hits him after that is Y/N saying that she loves him and that his parents ar proud of him.

Jason doesn’t go to her grave on the day she died. He refuses to admit that she died in his arms, so he doesn’t go on the anniversary of her death. He bottles himself up in his room and cries. He has nightmares about her death.

Bruce wishes he could have done more, but when the trial ended he went to her grave and told her about it. He actually laid her to rest by his parents so that she could be near her grandparents. 

Alfred misses her but knows that he couldn’t have done anything, but he leaves nothing in front of the doors and windows so she can enter if ghosts are real.

[a-singleboat]

Does He Know?

Word Count: 1.5k

Request: Damien Haas x Reader with the prompts 13, 33, 129 - Anon

Masterlist

You didn’t know your day could have gotten worse. Between hiding your obvious morning sickness from your oblivious boyfriend and actually doing your job, you were sure that only a gunfight could make your day any worse. You had your fingers crossed that that wouldn’t happen. You didn’t think you could mentally afford that trauma at the moment. 

As you sat in your cozy little office, you made idle gossip with your assistant, Emily, to pass the time. You organized your desk as she complained about the coffee machine on your floor not working for the thousandth time, lamenting that she had to make the trip two floors down for a decent cup. 

“Maybe you should learn how to fix the machine,” you suggested, only partially paying attention to what she was saying. Emily had moved on to her latest in-office crush, one of the techies that worked one floor up. “And I wouldn’t try it with any of the techies. They all look great, sure, but don’t do well in relationships.” 

“You don’t know that for certain,” Emily defended her crush. “Besides, not everyone can have the perfect relationship that you have with Mr. Damien Haas. Honestly, you guys are sickening.”

“Our relationship isn’t perfect,” you argued, hand falling to your stomach as if on instinct. You were barely even showing yet, part of the reason why you had been able to hide your pregnancy so well. “I mean, we still have our arguments…”

Emily narrowed her eyes at you, critical of the way your hand had immediately gone to your stomach at those words. You’d told her that you weren’t feeling the best earlier, the possibility of the stomach flu being high. That didn’t explain your switch from coffee to tea, specifically ginger tea--which she knew you hated with a passion. 

“Does he know about the baby?” Emily asked bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest. You hesitated, unsure of how to answer that. Emily was smart, you knew that. If she had managed to figure it out in less than thirty minutes, then you were sure Damien already knew. 

“No,” you lowered your voice. “He doesn’t. I was going to tell him, I swear, I just--”

“Bullshit. You weren’t going to tell him and we both know that.” Emily frowned. “God, Y/n. What were you going to do? Skip town and reappear with a child. You and Damien have been together, what? Five years?”

“Eight, actually,” you corrected. She glared at you, making you shut your mouth. 

“Eight years is no better, Y/n,” she reprimanded. “If you don’t tell him, then I will.”

“Tell him who?” 

You jumped banging your knee against the underside of your desk while Emily’s hand flew to her chest. The both of you turned to look at the office door, which had been left open. Sheepishly, Damien apologized for scaring the both of you. 

“How long have you been standing there?” you demanded, reorganizing the pens back into the pencil holder. “And what did you hear?”

Damien held his hands up in surrender. “I heard nothing. I literally just got here.”

“Good.” You exhaled. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a scene to shoot?” 

“I’m going to get a refill.” Emily snatched up her coffee mug and got up from her seat, edging around Damien on her way out of the office. She closed the door behind her, leaving the two of you in silence.

“Scene got pushed back because… well… I may have ripped my pants.” Damien turned around, revealing the rip down the middle of his pants. You tried not to laugh as he explained how it happened. “I swear I wasn’t doing anything I wasn’t supposed to. The piece of equipment had no right to go anywhere near my butt.”

“So what I’m hearing is you were standing where you weren’t supposed to and got caught on a piece of equipment, resulting in your split pants.”

“No,” Damien denied, the red of embarrassment already crawling onto his cheeks. You grinned and poked his cheek slightly, laughing as he swatted you away. 

“It’s fine,” you reassured, hands falling to his shoulders. You rubbed soothing circles into his shoulder blades, watching as he relaxed under your touch. “You’re lucky these aren’t your actual pants. Go get changed and bring these back to me, I’ll have them fixed in no time.”

“What were you and Emily talking about?” Damien stalled his exit, pulling you into his arms. You settled your head into his chest, breathing in the scent of new clothes and the detergent the two of you shared. 

“It was nothing,” you mumbled into his chest, patting his bicep. “Just work stuff. I accidentally stole Jeff’s stapler and she threatened to rat me out.”

You cringed at your lie. There was a reason you worked in costuming and not in front of the camera. You were a terrible actress and it showed. 

“Really?” Damien didn’t buy it. “Emily threatened you because you stole Jeff’s stapler? Somehow, I don’t believe it.” He held you at arm’s length, forcing you to look at him instead of the plaid fabric of his costume. “What’s actually the matter?”

Somehow, you knew it was now or never. If you didn’t tell him now, there was sure to be a train ticket with your name on it. You’d have to go into hiding, forever. You kid would grow up without their father and, most likely, an alcoholic mother because for some reason that’s how you say yourself in the future without Damien. 

And before you could stop yourself, your mouth opened and spilled your secret to the man standing in front of you. “I’m pregnant.” The two words stopped all time and movement as you watched the trainwreck that was your life unfold. 

He was silent, which was the worst reaction you could have thought of. This was it, he was going to break up with you and you would have to move cross country anyways because even being in the same state as him would be too painful. In your head, you thought of what your single-mother house would look like.

It most likely wouldn’t be a house. You’d live in a shack with an outhouse. Your baby would grow up to be a hick and you’d die of some ancient disease at the age of forty-three with no one by your kid to mourn you. 

Then, out of absolutely nowhere, Damien yelled out in… fear? No. Excitement. 

“I’m going to be a dad?” he asked, eyes widened and disbelieving. “You’re not joking, right? I’m actually going to be a father?” 

You nodded, tears you didn’t know you had dripped down onto your cheeks. The salty water sloped off your chin, landing on the carpet below you.

“Baby,��� he wiped underneath your eyes with his thumb. “Why are you crying?” 

You exhaled shakily, falling into his chest as your sobs broke free. “Oh, I was so scared you were going to be mad at me.”

“Mad at you… Why would I be…?” His arms wrapped around your shoulders as you fisted his shirt in your hands. He was going to have to change before he could go back to shooting… If he went back to shooting, though you were sure Emily already told them what was going on. “I could never be mad at you for something like this.”

“But we’re not even married. Oh, God, my mom is going to beat my ass--Damien, we’re not even married!”

“Simple solution for that,” Damien said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a distinct velvet box. He dropped down on his knee in front of you, velvet box in hand. “Be my wife.”

“Damien--”

“I had this whole thing planned,” he rambled. “I was going to take you out for dinner and bring you back to where we first met…”

“You were going to bring me to the Planetarium?” you asked. You’d stopped crying tears of relief at this point, exchanging them for tears of joy. You blamed the pregnancy hormones, making you cry more than you had in the entire eight years you’d been with Damien. 

“Yeah,” he played with the box. “Was gonna propose under the night we first met too.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Yeah, but I’m your sap,” he joked, opening the box. “Y/n, these past eight years together have been, simply put, amazing. I want to be able to wake up next to you every single morning and go to sleep next to you every night. I want to be able to make pancakes with you on our days off and always have you as my plus one to family reunions. I want the constant singing in the shower and the stupid mohawk photos you send me while I’m out. I want you, and if you’ll have me… Will you marry me?” 

“Yes!” You pulled him off the floor, throwing your arms around him and kissing him deeply. He slid the ring on your finger, pulling out of the kiss so that you could admire the gem. 

“Do me a favor, leave out the fact that I proposed to you with ripped pants when you’re telling your mom this story.” 

You laughed, craning your neck around to view his underwear still very much on display. “No,” you shook your head. “That’s definitely going to be in the engagement story.”

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