#I NEED TO EAT SEVERAL LIVE BABY PANDAS

[star--anon]

playing League is just going "I want to play League" and then proceeding to get angry

[everythingbutresolved]

The Worst Haim Fic Ever

Fictional!Hamish Linklater x f!reader

Rating: Horny Teenager

Summary: Let's break the writing dry spell with something so bad it will self destruct when you have finished reading it shall we?

Warnings: Grammar? What is it? Abuse of Zeta Gen talk. Reader is a a hamfam mutual and Haim has several nicknames, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, unprotected sex, moron dirty talk.

Notes: Thank you so much for the love in the past year, I'm trying to love back and be more productive, I just wanted to share the silliest thing that popped in my mind...enjoy 😜

ur sitting at home in ur pjs all comfy with half edible left from the tray you baked for the weekend.

Ur dog and you are watching netflix eating only red m&m’s talking to the friendz in your phone when u hear a knock at ur door. u get up and spill all the candies on the floor but don’t worry cuz u already gulped down all the red and yellow choco, but carry your puppy with u because you didnt order anything from amazong in like 3 days so your four legged friend might have to scare an intruder. u open the door and it’s the hottest man ever

 Hummus Longlater

u almost drop on your butt bcz you were just talking to your mutuals in barks and meows how much u need to climb that human palmtree covered in chocolate fudge. U say “Drop gorgeous Daddy Legend wtf ya doin here?” But that piece of licorice bats his eye hair so quickly u fall back on the couch while ur doggo goes and pack his toys cuz he's going with him.

“Hey babygirl” Hamosh sais, leaning on ur doorframe, revealing he is wearing nothing but a white vest two sizes down a toddler and the tightest jeans ever sold by those gud bois at Levi’s. A “Look I know I’m your bias and that I always munch on it, and finally my Zaddy whiskers r too drenched in fandom juice to keep ignoring them. The fire has spread and reached my cheeks missus.”

ur like “omg !! Im not wearing any makeup!! Or pants!! Oh skinny legend u’re so father, periodt!!!”  but he just lafs at that because tahts what he likes about u. “ya girl i know thats why im heer. I’m mad lit on god no god no cap. Drip drip. I heard u enjoy eating junk food and getting your junk food ate out. Do u wanna rip my pants and eat me up gurl? Leave no crumbs baby.”

And saying that he loafs in to your house, tripping over doggo when he refuses to hover his naked feet. “i like your trash panda” “don’t scratch him under his ear or he’ll hump ur leg till tomorrow” U say before smushing your face into his. He smells like old spice and tastes like pumpkin donut and matcha latte. You untangle your tongues only to ask “Hammac glorious, your foot is always on my neck daddy, but I have to ask, r u real or is the weed they sold me pretty fire?”

Ur pup gives you  stern look and plops on his furry ass and ur sure he says “human im petotaly serious don0t parse this or ill foist on you three gens of my litters – mine and the raccoon that lives under the porch”

Himbo grabs ur sweaty ass and says “The way u scratch ur armpits called me like a charm and i just had to come get a taste of this sweet sweet potato couch.” He stretches his vest over his head, his eyes are the color of the hazelnut frosted chocolate brownie you had this morning. “well? U got me like La-La-La baby, wanna sit on my face or what ?”“duh,” u spit, moving puppy aside. “I love you down Mr. H” His chest is smooth with baby oil when you slide ur hands on it. He has huge hands that scoop under ur ass and throw you on the bed and rip of your pjs. Ur android goes flying out the pocket, probsbly never to be seen again. U have the time to chant “You’r our beloved, and u have us in a chokehold!” then is on top of you fast, pinnning you to the bed, slopply groping under ur shirt for ur boobs that bounce boobily. He chokes u with his socks that smells like socks but u kinda think thats hot. His jeans sway to the floor and skitter away, leaving him in his boxers he got for christmas in 2003. His heft is huge, huger than his hands. It snaps the elastic and elicopter it for a ful minute until u’re hypnotized. “dont worry babygurl this will help u get it all in” he grabs ur legs and throws them over his shoulder and massages ur pussy until u scream and snatch his fingers up your coochie like the dyson ur mom gave u for xmas.

“omg Mr. H that was nom-nom delish how r u so good at pumpussy??!” you gasp gasplessly

“since I’m in my assembly period my strengths multiplied, now I can make u cum with just a flex of my massive eyebrows watch this” and with that he hoola-hoops his hairy caterpillars and makes u *O* a few more times “ r u ready baby gril?”

“yes Zaddy!” 

He likes that. He ate that up a compliment and had u GAG, while ur cunt eats it all up. U can see urself cumming in the reflex of his caramel pudding eyes. He moans so loud the neighbors think ur killing someone and get more popcorns. U scream obscenities and fuck and cum and fuck and cum all over the apartment. Ur doggo has found ur phone and is taking a video to send ur besties later. The couch rols over from so much fuckng and cumming. Hammamet keeps gong flexing his infinite thighs becuz yours gave up. He doesn't unload until the very end when he climbs on the bedframe and showers u singing Sweet Home Carolina. U almost drown.

“wow mr Hamigo thank u” u say. Talking makes cum gush off ur hair

“ur welcom. Btw I gotta go now.” He swishes in his jeans like a well grased seal and moves to ur side of the bed. U start crying for the sudden loss of his massive cock. “Hamandbacon I thought you were different but ur like everyone else, mid.”

He looks into ur eyes and lovingly swipes some cum from your face.

“I don’t get it. I just gave u the best camping of ur life”

“And now ur fleeing”  

He lafs u off “I have 47 more friendly stops after this, don’t be greedy babgurl” U bat ur sticky palms with joy, meanwhile your familiar retrieves ur phone for U so you can give a head up to your mutuals – get ready with water and lube.

@littleredwritingcat this is for you bestie

Randy tag @supplanther @plainlo-inthemorning @girlwiththenegantattoo @agirlinherhead @madsmilfelsen @aherdofbees @chronic-ghost @ebiemidnightlibrarian @pegplunkett @jyngerpeach and more

[livealittleoc-cb]

"I love the feeling of the sun on my face, it feels like a warm and gentle kiss."

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.: Apollo [Hunter Lewis / Sato Akio]

⋆｡°✩ Greek God of the Sun, Light, Music, Poetry, Art, Truth && Healing

⋆｡°✩ Twin of Artemis

⋆｡°✩ He is a musician && owns a music studio

⋆｡°✩ Has a Goldendoodle named Snickerdoodle

⋆｡°✩ In "Human" form he's from Puerto Rico [mum's side]/ American [dad's side], in Astria he is from Strayye [San Juan, Puerto Rico]

⋆｡°✩ He/Him | Gay, Mono | 24 [Human Years], is as old as the Sun && Music | 3/4 [Pisces] | 5'5"

⋆｡°✩He is:

horny on the outside

softie on the inside

energetic

overly emotional

fuckboy but not

scared of romance

creative as hell

God Information / Form Stuff

⋆｡°✩ he feeds off of the sun/light && music to keep his strength

⋆｡°✩ the sun is more affective with keeping his strength but, music does help a lot too

⋆｡°✩ when he's in the sun his secret freckles appear

⋆｡°✩ imagine dog sunbathing

⋆｡°✩ basically lives at his studio in an unhealthly, doesn't eat && sleeps there way

⋆｡°✩ when he feeds his eyes turn a honey mustard yellow

⋆｡°✩ everyone in olympus knows him as the no commitment boy since he sleeps around so much in human && god form

⋆｡°✩ as a god he can smell && sense emotions well but the smell/sensation of happiness is the strongest he can depict

⋆｡°✩ he can also sense honesty && lies, he gets severely hurt if someone lies to him

⋆｡°✩ he is able to heal himself && others with his powers

⋆｡°✩ he has more strength then a normal human but an average amount of strength compared to other gods

⋆｡°✩ he can change his "human" apperance [height, eye color, hair color, etc.]

⋆｡°✩ each god has a human name they go by, his is Hunter or Akio

⋆｡°✩ he is taller in his god form, he is a good 6'5" in god form

⋆｡°✩ in his god form, his eyes look like liquid gold/sun, freckles dust his face, his skin is slightly tanner && golden, has golden curls, has a crown halo with spikes that floats over his head, he carries around a harp && bow && arrow, his nails are permanently painted yellow, he has a smiley piercing instead of hip piercings

⋆｡°✩ when he cries in this form he cries liquid gold

⋆｡°✩ when not in astria or the human realm he resides in the olymipian realm [olympus]

⋆｡°✩ in his half && half form he is his normal 5'5", has his hip piercings, his eyes are either their normal honey golden hazel or a crystal blue, straighter hair

Extras

⋆｡°✩ natural eye color: honey golden hazel

⋆｡°✩ eyes might glow bright yellow when happy

⋆｡°✩ has one small bow && arrow tattoo on the lower part of his neck

⋆｡°✩ has surface hip piercings

⋆｡°✩ likes: dogs, music, his guitar, Ares [his bestest friend], culture learning, the color yellow

⋆｡°✩ dislikes: mean people, being yelled at, violence, not being taken seriously, people miss treating ares

⋆｡°✩languages: english, japanese && very very basic spanish

⋆｡°✩ he went to japan for a music gig && loved it there! he lived there for a while && even got a japanese name!

NSFW

⋆｡°✩ sub; some of his kinks are size kink, breeding [receiving], man handling [receiving], toys [receiving], praise [giving], degradation [receiving]

⋆｡°✩ hard nos: feet, watersports, wasteplay

⋆｡°✩ even if he has a lot of one night stands, he's still a shy baby && has never had sex with feelings/romantically so he doesn't feel confident domming

⋆｡°✩ once his trust is gained enough he might dom but might need to be guided

⋆｡°✩ his eyes glow golden when arroused

⋆｡°✩ safe word: sun

⋆｡°✩ he uses 🎧 on dash

Relationship Statuses

⋆｡°✩ in the studio && just vibing

⋆｡°✩ taken && happily dating @evicted-oc Arawn [beautiful death ☠️🖤] [4.25.23]

⋆｡°✩ friends: @monsterhigh-cb Hyunjin [Fuck Bestie🤭💖👑]

⋆｡°✩ children: @k-half-blood Beomhan [my...child?] && the other dozen

Tags

⋆｡°✩ relationship tag(s): #🖤💛arallo [panda man ship tag], #���💀hugable panda [panda man ship tag]

⋆｡°✩ friend tag(s):

⋆｡°✩ music tag(s):

⋆｡°✩ inspo tag(s):

⋆｡°✩ other tag(s): #🎧apollo.txt [apollo text/interactions]

faceclaim: @/tristanpvaldez on instagram

[ventihonklightice]

period pains || sapnap

Sapnap x fem!reader

Word count: 1.5k words

Summary: Sapnap, being the amazing, super, terrific boyfriend he is, went to buy y/n tampons. needless to say, she got plenty.

Moving in with Sapnap and Dream was exciting. It got to the point where Y/n was at their house almost everyday, so it was an easy acclimation. At first, Y/n was nervous about how living with her boyfriend’s best friend would work, but it was surprisingly more manageable than she thought. She wasn’t nervous about walking around Dream anymore, though her cheeks would glow a particular shade of red after late night rendezvous with Sapnap that he pretended to not hear. Little did she know, he spared her the mockery by privately doing so to Sapnap.

Currently though on a somewhat cloudy Florida day, her boyfriend was out with said best friend and roommate before the Texan received a text.

y/n <3

do you love me

He put down his drink at the sight of the notification popping up on his phone, quirking a brow at his girlfriend’s words while his friend proceeded to eat his meal.

sappy pandas

??

of course I do

where’s this coming from?

Sapnap was slightly concerned, knowing Y/n to be more reserved when asking for his affirmation of love.

y/n <3

since you love me

can you pretty pretty pretty pls

get me tampons

and stuff

I am suffering

He chuckled at the multiple text bubbles that appeared on his screen, causing Dream to divert his attention from his food to his friend’s phone.

sappy pandas

oh shit

I’m sorry :((

We’ll be back in 30 or 40 minutes <3

Y/N groaned, not being able to take the pain any longer and just wanting cuddles with her boyfriend, though regardless, she appreciated his actions.

y/n <3

omg thank you

thank you

I love you so much

Sapnap smiled widely, quickly moving his fingers to text a reply. “Y/n?” Dream asked, taking yet another bite. Sapnap just nodded his head, focused on his girl.

sappy pandas

yeah yeah love you too baby

“Can we stop by Walgreens or something on the way back? She needs stuff,” he spoke to Dream who was currently scarfing down the rest of the food. He nodded his head, still chewing.

“Also, can we order her food?” Sapnap asked shyly. Dream chuckled at the comment, “oh so now I’m both your AND her sugar daddy? I’m going broke because of you two.”

Sapnap blushed, feeling bad about making the blond pay even though he almost always insisted. “I-I’ll pay for it dude, it’s not a big deal.”

Dream shook his head, taking a sip of his soda, “no. Never. I literally asked you to come here, I’m not making you pay for shit.”

The waitress came back, taking the plates and asking if we’d like a check, with the boys instead asking for a menu.

Half an our later, the pair was going across the street of the restaurant and to the drugstore. “What does she need anyways?” Dream asked, following Sapnap’s footsteps.

“Tampons and stuff,” he almost whispered, uncomfortable with the words and also not wanting others to hear him mutter them. “Oh,” Dream answered shortly as they made a bee line to the ‘feminine hygiene’ aisle. Needless to say, the men were overwhelmed.

“Why are there so many?” Sapnap asked as his eyes scanned over various pink and purple packages. “Text her and ask her exactly what she needs,” Dream suggested, eyes also scanning the products before him.

It had been five minutes and Y/N had yet to respond. Sapnap groaned, “what do I do?” His friend shrugged before a very dumb idea crossed his mind. “Just like, get a bunch.”

Sapnap looked at his friend and blinked before speaking “that’s a great idea.” They went to go grab a shopping cart before they began to fill it with various types of cotton.

“No, Sapnap that’s underwear,” Dream spoke as he saw his friend grab diaper like underwear, “it’s for bladder problems or something.”

Sapnap quickly put it back before looking at tampax, “okay but these are definitely tampons.” He grabbed those, along with several other brands and sizes. He moved onto pads, doing the exact same thing.

“This looks... fine,” Sapnap spoke as he examined the sheer amount of cotton recently thrown into the cart. He pushed the cart until reaching the candy aisle. He wanted to buy her some in hopes of making her feel better. So, he took various chocolates alongside her favorite candy and went to go grab pain relievers before approaching the register.

The cashier looked between the cart and the two men scurrying to put the period products onto the counter, forcing a muffled laugh out of Dream. “Find everything okay?” She muttered, scanning the items that Sapnap began to place on the counter, a line forming behind them.

“Uh y-yes thank you,” Sapnap stuttered, placing the candy down last.

“That’s gonna be $198.46,” she expressed as Sapnap fumbled with his debit card, Dream already carrying most of the bags. The two men hurriedly left the store.

“That was so embarrassing. There was a line and everything, oh my god those people must think I’m crazy,” Sapnap muttered, rubbing his hands over his face.

“This-This is definitely a little overboard,” Dream spoke as he slammed the trunk closed.

“It’s fine. This is fine. I don’t want her to like, not have the stuff she needs. I’d feel awful,” Sapnap spoke as he opened the passenger seat door. “Whatever you say pandas.”

~

Never receiving a text from Y/N, Sapnap assumed that she had been asleep. Dream helped him carry the various bags of tampons and food into the house, but thought it’d be best to let his friend carry them to his girlfriend.

So, Sapnap did so, just very loudly. He stumbled into the bedroom, his eyes landing on his girlfriend. Through the ruffling of the bags and his loud footsteps she began to stir about. “Sapnap?” She mumbled tiredly, his form looking like a blob in her sleepy daze.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he whispered, gently placing down the bags by his bed before leaning over to kiss her forehead.

“Did you go to the store?” She asked, her eyes opening more and more. He scratched his neck as he looked at the bags, “yeah. I just- I just didn’t know what you needed so...”

His voice trailed off as he bent down to grab the bags, “I kind of bought a lot.” Y/N sat up slowly examining the bags with wide eyes, a hand covering her mouth to stifle her laughs.

“Baby,” she giggled, moving to get up to go towards the bags before Sapnap stopped her. “Stay put, I’ll bring the bags to you m’lady,” he spoke with a posh British accent on his last word. Y/n smiled and watched as he grabbed the bags and tossed them by her legs, finally settling onto the bed next to her.

“This is so much,” she muttered going through bag after bag, “you are so sweet.”

Sapnap turned red at her words, watching her go through them to find what she needed, “w-we could donate them or something?”

Y/n let out a scoff, stopping her movements to look at him, “literally the sweetest man. How’d I get this lucky?”

“Yeah I’m literally perfect,” Sapnap spoke sarcastically, leaning his head on her shoulder. Y/n giggled once more, finding the bag that had the reciept and pulling out the long pice of paper. Her eyes went wide as she looked at the total, “two hundred dollars!”

Sapnap snatched up the receipt before she could examine it further, “don’t worry about it.”

Y/n shook her head proceeding to dig through the bags, “and you got me candy? And medicine?”

Her eyes began to tear up as she threw her arms around Sapnap, startling him. “It was nothing,” he muttered softly, wrapping his arms around her torso gently.

“You’re the first guy that’s ever done this for me. Actually care and shit,” she sniffled, her words muffled in his chest. Sapnap’s eyes softened and he carded his fingers through her hair, “well it’s cause I love you and I think you deserve the world. And if making a Walgreens go tampon bankrupt does that, then I’m okay with it.”

Y/n chuckled at his words, pulling away to wipe tears off her face. “I love you too,” she expressed with a slightly exhausted tone. A soft smile appeared on the Texan’s features,

“D-Do you want me to run a bath or something? Or we got you food. It’s in the kitchen and I’ll grab it if you want,” he explained as he laid back onto the beg, dragging Y/n with him softly.

“Can we just lay here for a minute?” Y/n asked, snuggling further into his chest.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he mumbled, kissing the top of her head. He continued to run his fingers through her hair, eventually hearing light and steady snores from the girl on his chest. He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

[astaroth1357]

AYE requests briefly open you say? Then here ya go: MC (female or gn) turns into a child for a day courtsey of Solomon (maybe around 5) with the Brothers. I think it'd be adorable, what with finger painting on spell books and things, but there ya go!

The MC is Now Five Years Old, Thanks Solomon...

Oh boy…. A little kid in Hell sounds like a train wreck admittedly, but at least they'll have some pretty strong guardians right? I heard It'll Be Okay by SMLE & Helen Tess and decided that was JUST the feel this sort of request needed.

Intro:

Solomon really doesn't mess up spells often. He's been doing this for a while (at least as far as my headcanon is concerned) so he's gotten pretty damn good at magic over the years. It takes a looot to make him mess up. Like say, a natural disaster, an unexpected surprise… or a whole-ass MC getting knocked into what sigil he's using at just the wrong time. Yeah. That'll do it.

How in the world is he going to explain this to the brothers…?

Lucifer

His anger toward Solomon is quite severe… tempered only slightly by how utterly adorable kid!MC is. (Well all know he's got that soft spot for cute things 🤭) It reminds him so much of his brothers at that age…

The man basically reverts back to being Dad!Lucifer sooo fast.

He's the one tying their shoes, checking on them throughout the day, making sure they're not running with scissors… that sort of thing.

Weirdly enough he's not that bothered by it… In fact, his brothers find it a little unnerving just how at peace he seems when he's keeping track of kid!MC doing this or that… It's like he's just put on an old pair of gloves and found out they still fit.

Speaking of his brothers, Lucifer can't turn off "Parent Mode" so it starts spilling over to them too...

When he started telling Levi "It's bedtime" and used a napkin to wipe Beel's face for him in public, they decided to hold an informal intervention. They're grown demons now, damnit!! 😖

Mammon

The first thing kid!MC did when they saw Mammon was fling themselves at him while screaming "MAMMIE!!!" at the top of their lungs… Regardless of his confusion, the man could probably die happy now.

He only gripes a little bit about being saddled with babysitting duty… Because everybody knows he's not the babysitter now. He's the playmate.

"Mammie, I wanna play House!!" "I ain't playing House with ya, kid. How 'bout Tag?" "No way, you're too fast!"  "Hide'n Seek?" "Luci said we can't play that no more…" "Well don't hide in the oven again!" "You didn't find me!!" "That was the problem!!!"

Pretty much the Man-Child/Actual Child Duo. He's perfect for keeping up with them and they'll whine incessantly when they can't find him for too long...

Totally the brother to take them to the amusement park or really any of those super fun places kids love. He will be just as excited as they are to be there, too.

It's not uncommon to find Mammon passed out on a couch or something with an equally exhausted kid!MC sleeping on his back. The two can really wear each other out…

Leviathan

He's probably the least perturbed by this change. Sudden de-aging of characters is a pretty popular anime trope, after all...

He's not all that taken with kid!MC though to be honest… Largely because he's too worried about keeping his stuff out of their grubby mitts. 😖

"Levi, what's this?" "GAH! Don't touch that!! That's my limited edition Ultra☆Rainbow Witch figurine!!" "I wanna play with it, though!" "It's not a toy!!" "That's not fair! You have nothing but toys, Levi!! You need to share!!" "NO I DON'T!!!"

In those times where Lucifer forces him to share, Levi goes full neat-freak. He handles all the discs and games himself, everything gets practically sterilized, and kid!MC HAS to wash their hands before they touch ANYTHING (especially the game controllers). He ain't risking any random kid-gunk getting on his precious possessions… 😰

He does enjoy playing games with them well enough, at least. No one's going to pass up a game of Devil Kart after all!

Sometimes he'll let them win just to see how happy they get… Though, then they start getting a big head about it so he has to remind him who the actual gamer is with another string of losses... Sucks to suck, kid! 😌😏

Satan

… You know, five year-olds ask a lot of questions… A looot of questions…

"Satan, what's that?" "An umbrella. You use it so that rain doesn't get on you." "Where does rain come from?" "Evaporated water collects in the atmosphere and-" "Is rain like the sky peeing?" "...." "Satan? Does your face hurt?... Satan?"

Please Lord, they may not be on speaking terms, but someone has to have mercy on his patience...

In truth, Satan's kind of charmed by how curious kid!MC is, he just wished they'd listen more to his boring explanations…

"Satan? Why does everyone listen to Diavolo?" "Lord Diavolo is like a king to us demons." "Where's his crown?" "He doesn't wear a crown." "Oh… You don't wear a crown and people listen to you. Are you a king too?" "I mean, you're not wrong… 😏" "Satan, get back to work."

Eh, maybe having a little MC isn't all that bad. They don't lie, after all. 😌

Asmodeus

OMG he hasn't seen a child this cute since the twins were in diapers!!!!

If Mammon isn't around then Asmo takes over babysitting duties (like an actual babysitter) and he's more than happy to do it. It reminds of him of taking care of baby Belphie!

If kid!MC has any interest at all in makeup then he's happy to foster it. He won't give them the good stuff of course, but he'll show them how to do blush, eyes, lipstick, nail polish, whatever!

He also dabbles in a bit of facepaint so do they want to look like a kitty, panda, or dragon? He's got them covered.

Asmo just likes to let them be creative in all forms, really. He's going to be the one to break out the paint and markers and just the kid!MC go to town! (hopefully not on the walls…)

Takes pictures of whatever they draw, good or bad, and happily displays them to everyone. There's not a big enough fridge to hold all the art he's going to collect (and zealously protect).

Beelzebub

Playmate #2 right after Mammon, but he's the less excitable, more responsible one.

"Beel! Beel! Watch me jump off this slide!!" 😰 "Please don't… You could hurt yourself… You slide down slides. That's why they're called that." "*GASP*... That's right! You're a genius!!" *sits back down* "Not really, but thank you." 😊 *waits for them at the bottom*

If the MC is with Beel, they're doing one of two things. Either they're playing together or gorging themselves on junk food.

Beel actually likes "domestic" games like House and Tea Party because it's an excuse to raid the kitchen. He'll play "house-husband" all day as long as he gets to actually eat at every imaginary dinnertime.

He'll play active games too, of course. Especially action-oriented ones like "Cops and Robbers" or Superheros. No one's better at roughhousing than Beel! Though he'll go easy on them, cause they're small and all… 😅

Everyone can always tell when Beel's in charge of them because he carries them around on his shoulders. He's the tallest one of the family so it's like getting to be a giant!

Belphegor

Belphie was introduced to kid!MC when they started crying during one of his naps. They couldn't wake him and they thought he was dead… Followed directly by them declaring their tears were magic when they noticed his eyes opened.

He proceeded to close his eyes again and purposely play dead just to get them all worried again. It was the smile creeping up onto his face that eventually gave him away… 😏

He likes to play with kid!MC and Beel but he's not going to let it get in the way of his nap schedule or anything. When they play "Knights" he gets to take the role of the world's laziest dragon… Rawr.

Kid!MC will only settle down for naptime if Belphie joins too since he'll read them a book like he used to do with Lilith.

Satan's usually the go-to guy for storytime, but Belphie's a close second (largely because he just imitates what he remembers Lucifer doing for him, voices and all 🤭).

He deals with their myriad of questions by just making shit up and pretending he knows what he's talking about. It's around the time that he told them that little men live inside the freezer and shave ice cubes to keep things cold that Lucifer started getting on his case about it… Killjoy. 🙄

[kendamono]

a/n: just fluff <3 hope you all enjoy this one because toge is one of my favorite characters. salmon = yes, agree. bonito flakes = disagree, deny

warnings: none

say the word (toge x gn!reader)

toge really was only close to the other second years and yuta was the only exception when he had transferred in. so toge wasn’t looking to get close with anybody else outside his friend circle. sure he’d be nice but close ? he doesn’t feel like he’d be able to get his point across to them without panda there.

yet you transferred in midway and then, crash. that’s the sound of all of his plans going out the window. you quickly became close with maki and panda but toge never seemed to know how to approach you. he tried to talk to panda about it but panda would tease him saying he just needed to stop being a baby. toge stuck out his tongue in annoyance because he genuinely felt nobody understood what he actually meant.

when you first saw toge you thought if maybe you should mention that his hair was partly sticking up but he quickly disappeared behind panda. you really only saw toge with yuta smiling and laughing about who knows what. seeing him act so carefree around everyone except you made you determined to befriend him no matter what. maybe you had made a bad impression or something. i mean when you first came to the school all you did was just introduce yourself so nothing went wrong there ? you wondered what it was that made toge not want to be near you.

meanwhile toge was having a crisis because yuta spoke with him about your ability. the world crumbled away at his feet when he realized somebody could finally understand him since you can read his mind by touching him but then the excitement quickly faded when he thought about you finding out he liked you. yuta asked if he was okay since he was staring off in the space but he replied with a simple “salmon”. now what is he going to do if he ever wants to hug you or try to hold his hand and- he stopped himself before he thought any further. why is he thinking so far ahead when he hadn’t even actually spent time with you yet. ‘ugh i’m an idiot’ he mentally face palmed.

you were just finishing up lunch with maki where you both talked about how cool it would be if instead of panda translating, you could translate instead.

“that would be nice but toge doesn’t seem to like me” you looked down seeming dissapointed.

“don’t be stupid just go talk to him” maki laughed in your face. maybe she was right you thought. ‘okay i’m going to talk to him’ you reassured yourself.

toge was sitting by himself eating onigiri and you made your way towards him. he panicked because he hadn’t thought of what to do while he was alone with you. you waved and sat next to him but he shifted over slightly.

“hey toge do you hate me ?” you sighed dramatically and his face amused you. his mouth was wide open and he shook his head a million times while repeating “bonito flakes”. you laughed a little bit and felt a sense of relief wash over you.

toge thought to himself ‘how did you mess up this badly that they thought you hated them’ he shook his head and felt stupid. he was gazing at the ground and you crouched down and looked up at his face from below. his face turned red and you decided now is a great time to ask.

“hey do you want me to translate for you by touching your hand whenever you want to speak to the group ?” you eagerly waited his response but the color from his face drained and he nearly passed out.

“woah toge are you okay ??” you were worried maybe you had scared him off now but in reality hearing his name so many times in your voice made him light headed. you reach out to touch his forehead and he almost bent at 90 degree angle to avoid it.

‘okay now you’ve done it’ you thought. maybe you had made him uncomfortable. toge felt bad because now you got up and waved a little bye bye.

“i’ll leave you alone now, sorry for any trouble !” your smile looked empty to him and he realized he needed to confess now or things would become worse.

maki walked by the whole exchange and was severely amused and disappointed at the same time so she decided to tease the both of you.

“what’s the matter got rejected toge ?” she laughed hysterically while he got up quickly and yelled “bonito flakes !!”

“actually maki it was the other way around haha” you laughed sadly putting and arm behind your neck and maki’s jaw hit the floor.

“sorry i just rubbed salt in the wound huh” maki looked away nervously laughing realizing this was now the second time she had done that.

toge stood there like world was collapsing and his mouth was wide open in shock. was this what he thought it was ? he only saw miscommunication like this in shoujo manga ! and now he is living in it. to prevent more problems he just ran up to you and dragged you by the sleeve to another spot.

‘now he’s mad at me isn’t he’ you thought. ‘oh well i have no regrets’ and braced yourself for what he was going to say. he grabbed your hand with his face glowing red. his hands were warm and so were the thoughts flowing into you. very clearly now, toge had confessed. he gave you a hug and said ‘i like you so don’t think i hate you okay ?’. you laughed and toge looked confused.

“sorry,” you said in between laughs “it’s just, all this happened because you didn’t want me finding out about your crush but i also liked you from the beginning”.

toge just went “hmph” and crossed his arms and looked away. maybe he was being just a little stupid at least he finally told you. you grabbed his hand in yours and decided to walk around while he told you everything. excitedly, he smiled knowing someone could finally understand him completely like you.

ahhh i really enjoyed this request !! thank you so much please keep sending in requests ^^ take care everyone <3

[atsuminthe]

Random Kita headcanons

note: just some kita appreciation bc he's soft and cute and i love him uwu; thank you @izhyperfixates for flooding my dash with your selfship, this one's for you babie <3

nsfw under the cut!

taglist: @nakizumie;

SFW

yes, he can cook; no, he can't bake; absolutely cannot prepare desserts for the life of him, please handle the cakes and pastries for him

early riser, wakes before sunrise because of his work, but will always press one kiss to your temple before he gets out of bed, and another before he leaves the room

woodworks!! ikea master, he knows how to assemble those impossibly complicated pieces of furniture without instructions, and makes his own furniture from time to time! a shelf or a little table for your veranda, or a kiddie chair; it helps him relieve stress

osamu sends him prototype onigiri from time to time (since he's the rice provider) and he insists that you take the first bite since he knows whatever his friend made, it's very good

if you crochet/knit, be sure he'll wear anything and everything you make. pink mittens because that was the only wool you had left? they're comfortable and very fuzzy, of course he'll wear them. a panda hat? it's his new favorite since it matches his hair. that fox scarf you gave him for Christmas? never goes anywhere without it in winter

can get a little insecure from time to time since he works as a farmer, thinking that maybe you deserve something better, or might want to live in the city again. please reassure this pretty baby that you're perfectly content and happy living in the countryside, because you are with him and he makes you loved like nobody else can (and you can't raise ducks in an apartment)

big spoon, but likes to be the little spoon on particularly hard days that exhaust him; run your hand through his hair, massage his tense shoulders (bonus points if you sing a lullaby for him), give him a little kiss on the top of his head and he'll fall asleep in no time

will remember every date and anniversary, no matter how insignificant you deem it; once celebrated your cat's 3rd anniversary with a can of tuna for the little one and your heart melted when he thanked them for making you happy and keeping you company in his absence

please marry this man, best husband 11/10

NSFW

so so so caring during sexc times, he'll pay so much attention to your needs and wants and will make you feel like you've made it into Heaven

please spoil him, he works vvv hard and deserves rewards >:(

his groans are so pretty, and when he actually moans it's a blessing for your ears

will eat you out for hours if that's what you want, the man lives to please you. he got off your moans and you calling his name in that cute whiny voice on several occasions, and is not afraid to do it again

usually on top, but doesn't dislike the idea of you in his lap, taking whatever you want and going at your pace; he loves you too much to say no to you

pretty dick squad!! he has such a nice dick it's insane. not too thick, just enough to make you whimper with just the tip, long enough to give you the best dicking ever, and the amount of veins on it is just [ chef's kiss ]

whenever you give him a blowjob he ascends. likes to pat your head and praise you: "such a good little one, suckin' me off like that", "just a little more, baby", "you're doin' so good, my love"

haha praise kink go brrr

that doesn't mean he won't degrade you, if you want it. can be very very mean and will spank you if you misbehave, harsh slaps echoing in the room. that, and bad darlings don't get to cum (and good luck with that bc he'll edge you for what feels like hours while whispering dirty things in your ear)

that being said, he still prefers the more vanilla sex. loves peppering your face with kisses and holding you in his arms foe a little before he makes sure to clean you up. sleepy cuddles ensue, and he never once lets go of you once you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck or his chest

oh to be kita's cute little housewife and cook for him in nothing but an apron, things can go south very quickly

[anika-ann]

The Best Mistake of My Life - Pt.7

Troublemakers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 3970

Summary: A soulmate AU. They say having a soulmate is a blessing. Who wouldn’t love the idea of star-crossed lovers, right?

Steve with his soulmate explore their relationship and test boundaries. The Avengers really try to make you feel like a part of their family already, both in the best and worst ways.

Warnings: swearing, FLUFF, Steve’s friends being Steve’s friends… go figure, attempt at humour, some makeout session, we’re pushing the mature rating for a bit, nothing extra...but be aware

A/N: Please, see the end notes.

Story masterlist

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Both Natasha and Steve ended up in a need of a shower, getting hit twice. You were glad Clint had used yellow paint and not red; you had less visual for nightmares that would now probably hunt you from time to time, though you had no doubt your mind would supply the missing images to summon a perfect horror.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about what Clint said…“ Steve started softly as you entered his room and you sighed, cutting him off before he could finish the sentence, cupping his still sweaty cheek.

Seeing his mood down plucked up your own courage. He needed reassurance and you were willing to give it.

“It’s reality, Steve. I can’t just live in a fairy tale, no matter how good you are at making me feel like living in one,” you comforted him, taking his face to both hands. “You warned me the very first day. And it’s okay. I have to get used to it.”

“Have to?” he echoed weakly, his brilliant eyes reflecting his inner struggle.

You charmed a smile for him, rising to your toes to plant a light kiss on his lips.

“I do if I want to keep you, don’t I?”

He was searching you face for a long time before speaking up.

“Do you?”

“…want to keep you?” you guessed what he was asking, your voice holding your disbelief at his sudden insecurity. You didn’t even wait for confirmation, you knew your hunch was right and it made your chest ache. “Duh! Don’t go stupid on me now, Rogers.”

“It’s just-“

You shifted your hands, one of them gripping on his nape and shut him up by smacking your mouths together.

Stupid, stupid worries you both had! Fuck fear and insecurities! You were great together so far!

Steve froze under you for a fraction of second before his arm sneaked around your waist, pulling you to him and holding you steady, helping you to tiptoe. He ducked his head too, allowing you to deepen the kiss, lips salty due to his previous activities. You pressed closer to him, enjoying the warmth and firmness, indulging in the sigh he let out when you licked into his mouth with no regards. His fingers flexed on you, his hand plunging into your hair to tilt your head for better access as he started dominating the kiss.

And then you lost the firm ground under your feet. Literally. He lifted you from the floor as if you weighted nothing, balancing you with only one arm around you, spinning you and taking several tiny steps until you found yourself sandwiched between his body and a wall. He easily swallowed your yelp of surprise, the hand on your back sneaking to your hip instead, as yours had moved to grip his shoulders.

Sweet baby Jesus, that was new. Also, hello, what a great sensation to your hands, feeling his deltoids. And biceps… triceps… whatever muscles made his shoulders and arms so freaking huge. And god, his body against yours…. When he eased the pressure, nibbling on your lower lip instead and giving you room to breathe in properly, you couldn’t remember how to do that.

You panted, surrounded and intoxicated by all that was him, letting out an inhuman noise when he peppered softer kisses along your jaw, finding a spot behind your ear you hadn’t even known about.

It was that little sound that made him stop, release a whine on his own, but causing his lips to curl up in a smile against your skin. He eased his hold on you, putting you down and pecking your cheek tenderly in the process.

“Sorry. That was… out of line,” he breathed out and for the first time, you noticed you weren’t the only affected by your make-out session.

His breathing was as raged as yours and it definitely wasn’t just his muscles that had been pressing against your body, which you only realized when he put some distance between you. Still, he didn’t stop touching you, his dark eyes boring into yours.

“You- you hear me complaining?” you stuttered, licking the taste of salt and something distinctively Steve off of your lips. His gaze flickered back to your mouth at that tiny motion, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“No.”

“Take a hint then. Also, I started it, so it’s on-- well, technically, your silly talk started it, I mean… ugh,” you huffed and the corners of Steve’s lips rose in a smile at your babbling. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? And this was… really nice.”

The sorrow and doubts were long gone; a twinkle of something mischievous flickered in his eyes.

“Noted. I’ll talk silly more often, Madam.”

You giggled, running your hands over his shoulders to preserve sensation for later. “And you called me trouble.”

“That’s ‘cause you are. Now we’re both drenching in yellow,” he announced, cheeky.

Oh shit! He was right! The paint wasn’t soaking through your dress as it was through his t-shirt, but the stains were definitely there.

“Crap! Is it washable? Is Natasha gonna be mad?”

Steve snickered, dropping a kiss to your forehead before taking a step back. You were wrapped in cold again, not liking it in the slightest. “I’ll wash it for her. She’ll probably pat my back or something if she learns how that happened… or yours.”

You laughed before you settled on a simple smile. “I’m glad you have such encouraging friends… no, seriously. I like them. Thank you for today.”

“They like you too in case you haven’t noticed. And today’s not over, you know? Movie night ahead. Tony picks,” he grimaced at that. “Mind if I take a shower first? You can ask Jarvis to ask Natasha for… more clothes.”

You smirked. “Why would I do that? I’ll be fresh from shower. I’ll just take my yesterday’s pyjama,” you teased, watching Steve’s lips part.

“Trouble. You are trouble…” he exclaimed, making his way to the shower, looking like he was trying to stop himself from doing something stupid. You kinda liked certain kind of stupid on him, you decided. Like… the make-out session. That was a very pleasant kind of stupid. And it showed you that he might be as crazy about you as you were about him.

“You like it!” you called after him, feeling confident and giddy.

“I do!”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Movie night was a very organized event at the Avengers Tower as you found out.

At seven o’clock, Jarvis asked which meal from the restaurant Bruce had picked (because it was his turn) each of you wanted. Twenty-five minutes later, everyone gathered in the living room, Bruce bringing the take-out, Tony asking Jarvis to put on a movie of his choice – because it was his turn.

“Look at you…. Any reason you took a shower?” Clint sing-sang, taking his box from Bruce’s hands.

You rolled your eyes while Steve replied. “I was working out and someone shot paint arrows at me. You were there if I recall correctly.”

“That explains you, not her. Nice outfit, by the way,” Tony hummed, seating himself on the couch next to Clint; what a pair of menaces to society and more specifically to you.

“Thanks,” you grinned at him, obviously taking him by surprise when not snarling at him.

“Cap helped you to get sweaty too?”

“Hush, Clint. The movie’s about to start. What happens behind the closed door is none of our business. Though if you got paint on my dress, I’ll skin you,” Natasha turned to you, threatening.

All blood drained from your face.

“Oh-hoooo, busted. You know, for future reference, you might wanna take off your clothes first.”

“Oh fuck you, Tony!” you cried out, curling in Steve’s arms, burying your red face in the crook of his neck. He embraced you protectively.

“Stop torturing her. She told me she liked you, you know,” he growled lowly, stroking your hair in attempt on comfort.

“Really? You sure it was us she met?”

“What Barton said.”

“I thought you told her better than that.”

“You know I was kidding about the dress, right? I just wanted to see how you’d react. Totally worth it.”

You peeked out from your hideout, squinting at each of them as they had innocence written all over their faces.

“I can’t believe I thought you were nice…” you murmured. Feeling better though, you stuck your tongue out before returning to the safety of Steve’s chest, which was now shaking with hushed laughter.

“Gee, Cap. How did you end up with such a brat for a soulmate?” Clint questioned, laughing. “You’re perfect for each other.”

“Looks like it,” Natasha confirmed. “Movie. Now. Get your food.”

You obediently took your box, readjusting your position at Steve’s side so you could eat, watch the movie and still bask in the warmth his body was radiating.

“Thanks, I guess. What are we watching?” As if on cue, the movie started, revealing the answer. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. Now shhh,” Tony hushed you and Jarvis dimmed the lights pleasantly, enough for you to enjoy the movie and see that you were eating at the same time.

You shook your head at Tony’s choice and focused on the screen. Guess there was nothing wrong at watching Kung-Fu Panda again. After all, it was fun.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Clearly, you weren’t the only one who had seen the movie before. Clint was saying some lines along with the characters, which made you giggle. Steve’s fingers always twitched on your hip when you did. Once you earned a curious glance and a light kiss to your damp hair when you muttered alongside with Clint, unable to resist.

“Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it’s called the present.”

The movie was over before you knew it. Jarvis turned up the lights again and the team of Earth’s mightiest heroes started to shuffle away. You couldn’t help but tilt your head in confusion when they didn’t bother cleaning up after themselves.

“Come on, guys…” Steve complained, half-annoyed, half-resigned.

“Having a guest doesn’t provide you an out, pal. You’re still on the cleaning duty, fair is fair,” Clint threw over his shoulder, leaning to Natasha’s ear; whatever he said to her, it made her chuckle.

Steve muttered something incomprehensible under his breath and manipulated himself from your embrace to clean up after his teammates’ – also known as children – mess. That thought made you smile as you got up to help him to pick up the empty boxes and cans.

“You don’t have to do that. You’re a guest here,” he noted kindly, sighing when you shook your head, continuing your extremely hard work.

“Please. So, you even invented a clean-up duty, huh?”

That made him chuckle. “Yeah. It was Natasha’s idea. It was usually her and me and she got fed up with playing housekeeper.”

“I do not envy her at all. Living with four guys, occasionally five if Thor is staying? Not exactly a walk in the park, I imagine. No offence,” you remarked, following him to the kitchen.

You weren’t lying – you heard enough horror stories about living with too many brothers under one roof.

“Well, Pepper’s around sometimes. Believe me, when she teams up with Natasha, I’m not sure it’s them who are outnumbered,” he exclaimed with a smirk that said it all. You laughed at the mental picture of the two famous women ordering the Avengers around. “Though… they might appreciate your help, the more frequent the better.”

You let the lid of rubbish bin close shut, looking up at Steve. His smile was bashful now, displaying the same sheepishness you heard in his voice.

You heart sang at the sweet suggestion. He wanted you around, the more frequent the better. You were at loss of words and he bit the inside of his cheek, the light in his eyes dimmed a bit at the lack of your reaction.

“So you’re saying they would enjoy me helping them to keep you guys in check…” you said slowly, earning a raised eyebrow as you took a step closer to him. “Or are you saying you’d like having me around?”

This time both of his eyebrows jumped shortly, his smile turning self-depreciating. Still, you hoped he knew you were teasing. “Something tells me you know which I meant.”          

“I’m hopeful,” you wrinkled your nose and washed your hands, drying them with a paper towel.

Steve went to stand by your side and like a magnet, you couldn’t resist and faced him.

“They were right, you know?”

“About?” you asked. You somehow suspected what he was referring to, the idea making your chest full of the lightest feeling. Yet, still in a high spirit, you teased him more. ”Are we talking shedding clothes or us being perfect for each other?”

He chuckled, the tips of his ears red. “I meant the latter, mostly.”

You smiled at him, your heart swelling in your ribcage with the faintest excitement at the visual of the first suggestion. Crossing the last distance, you kissed him shortly on his lips. His hands fell on your hips in a gentle touch.

“I agree.”

“You do?” he whispered, gazing into your eyes, searching for the subtlest hint of doubt.

Joke was on him; he wouldn’t find any. Maybe it was just him being perfect, but hey, whatever, potato, potahto; the bottom-line was that you were being over the moon when with him and he didn’t seem any different.

“Uh-um,” you hummed in agreement, unable to hold back the smile attacking your lips. Clearly, Steve failed at the same, mirroring your expression.

His arm sneaked around your waist then, his thumb caressing your cheek tenderly. The way he was looking at you… it took your breath away and after a long time, you felt the need to lower your gaze, dangerous words on the tip of your tongue.

You couldn’t say you loved him. Not yet, right? That wasn’t possible, was it? It was too soon. Even if it was somehow possible to feel like that, you couldn’t tell him. You would spook the poor man. You couldn’t have that.

Then again, you had to give him something.

“It’s just… sometimes it’s hard to navigate through a relationship. You know what I mean, right?” you whispered, biting your lip when his fingertips slid under your chin, urging you to look up.

Wonder and curiosity changed his expression, no doubt thinking of where this led to, but he didn’t press, waiting for you to gather your thoughts. You shied away again under the intensity of his gaze.

“The constant weighting of what is acceptable to do at the moment, how to grasp it. Is it time to kiss? Is he ready to see me without make-up? Should I take things further? Should I ask him about it? Are we going too fast? Is it time to meet friends and family?”

The words suddenly spilled from your mouth and you found yourself unable to stop the waterfall, finally finding courage to meet his eyes properly. His brows were furrowed together now, only for a bit.

“But not with you. It’s just… it seems so natural. Easy, right. Am I… am I crazy for feeling like that…?” you trailed off nervously, rewarded by the softest of smiles.

“Maybe. But then it makes two of us,” he confessed lowly, his thumb running over your lips this time, striking something in you, making your insides burn and yet, you were ready to fall into his embrace and just cuddle him for eternity. You couldn’t decide which you wanted more. Him or him.

You inhaled and exhaled slowly, preparing to confide to him with the final admission.

“I never felt like this. Not so fast, not so… much.”

He breathed in shakily, bowing his head only to stop a half an inch from your lips.

Why would he stop for god’s sake? The anticipation built up in you within a second. Thrill and concern. He wouldn’t reject you, would he?

“Me neither.”

You didn’t have time to process his words and bask in the light of his confession. He erased the last distance and what you expected to be a sweet kiss to emphasize his words turned out to be a hungry thing very fast.

You had no trouble readjusting to the new situation, breathlessly letting him nibble on your lips, meet your tongue and press you flush against him. Your right arm went around his neck to get impossibly closer while your left gripped his hip. For the second time that day you found yourself trapped between his body and a hard place as he moved you with ease, your backside bumping the kitchen counter.

He tilted your head, his lips leaving yours in favour to draw a torturously slow path down the side of your neck.

“This okay?” he breathed out and your knees buckled when his hot exhale ghosted over the sensitive skin.

Deliberately, your fingers slipped under the hem of his t-shirt, feeling his bare waist. He jumped a little and the sensation of having the same power over him that he had over you filled your veins with ecstasy.

“Is this?”

“So much trouble,” he murmured to the crook of your neck. You nearly went to a cardiac arrest when his fingers hooked in the neckline of the shirt you borrowed, tugging it aside just enough to reveal your words, his lips brushing each curve of his handwriting. You shuddered at the sensation, your palm going flat on his torso.

“Steve…”

You felt the subtlest graze of his teeth on your collarbone then and your heart positively stopped.

Lord have mercy.

You tugged at his t-shirt, pulling his mouth back to yours, pouring everything he made you feel into the kiss. When he obeyed, you let go with one hand only to prop yourself up onto the counter and sit on it, spreading your knees just enough for him to slip in between. He stumbled, moving a hesitant step forward when you wordlessly asked him to do so.

“Doll…”

The roughness of his voice sent a jolt of electricity down your spine, warmth pooling in your core despite the simple word sounding more like a question. A plea? A warning? Either was sizzling hot.

Your fingertips caressed the skin of his waist before making their way up under the fabric, resting curiously over his racing heart, feeling and praising the way it hammered against his ribcage in perfect imitation of your own.

Not the only one affected, sounded sweetly in your head and you moved your hand just a bit higher, only to let your fingers run down with the tinniest trace of nails, stopping an inch from the waistband of Steve’s sweats.

“Christ,” he choked out, his hands sliding dangerously close to your bottom, drawing you to him in one swift movement, forcing your legs spread wider and your core meet his crotch.

The hot shock of the contact sent your head spinning. God, you wanted him. How much you wanted him… You needed his mouth, his hands, his everything.

As if he was reading your thoughts, one of his hands went to explore even lower, cupping your bottom, while the other sunk into your hair, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. When your tongues met and his hips bucked forward in the aftermath, you moaned into his mouth, your fingers gripping anything in reach. He groaned at the sound, his lips getting sloppy, soon moving away.

His forehead fell on your shoulder, his hands twitching and you recognized that the heat was over, leaving you shivering and wanting. It almost made you whine. Almost.

You fought to catch your breath, to slow down your rapidly beating heart, to chase rational thoughts. Needless to say that after something like this, it was pretty difficult. Your body acted on instinct though. Your fingers threaded in his soft locks, caressing his scalp soothingly.

You felt it too now, though, what stopped him.

It was still too soon. Hell, you kissed for the first time only yesterday and you weren’t exactly the type to jump into bed after three dates. Steve wasn’t either – hell, he was born in an era where officially, sex before marriage was bordering with scandalous. Neither of you was one to put out easily, and while for some people it may looked like you were taking things way too slowly, this wasn’t the right time. You couldn’t put your finger on why, but it just wasn’t.

You kissed the top of his head then, gently pulling on his hair to face him, ignoring the way he… ugh, put some distance between your lower parts.

His pupils were blown huge, little wild and little bewildered in perfect harmony with his voice. “You’re not mad I stopped?”

Your eyebrow shot up and you couldn’t help pointing at your face. “I know you haven’t seen me mad yet, but this looks like my mad face?”

“No,” he answered truthfully, still short of breath, “but still, I’m sorry. I can’t, not yet, I-“

Your hand slid from his hair to cradle his cheek. He leaned into your palm, his eyes fluttering shut when he recognized you truly were alright with not continuing what he had started.

“I get it, Steve… somehow, I get it,” you assured him in a whisper and he pressed a tender kiss to your palm, his own fingers fixing your no doubt messy hair.

“Thank you.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “That’s not something you should thank for, Steve.”

“It really is.”

“Oh yeah, you definitely need to thank me for not being mad that we didn’t get on it on the kitchen counter where anyone could just walk in any second…”

“Oh my god-“ he groaned, stepping back and freeing you of his touch completely. “You are so much trouble.”

You jumped down the counter with a grin, surprised at just how wobbly your legs were. It was totally on him. “Steve, you literally turned by legs into a jello. I’m not sure I’m gonna make it to your room to change, let alone home.”

You didn’t want to go home, but sacrifices had to be made. Getting you both hot and bothered and then sleep in the same bed might be a very bad idea if you truly wanted to keep your hands off each other.

“Why would you go home?!” he cried out. His expression screamed shock and fright. Fright?

“I mean… I understand if, uhm… you know. Don’t want me anywhere around your bed tonight. For… reasons.”

“No way. I want to sleep with you!”

You bit your lip to hold back your laughter at such statement. Yeah, you had noticed. You had felt it.

“You know what I mean!” he blurted out exasperatedly when he spotted the expression on your face.

“Okay, okay… it’s on you. Whatever you’re comfortable with,” you offered, smiling up at him, trying your best not to look hopeful. You weren’t ready to say goodbye to him yet, but you also understood that while for you it could be difficult to fall asleep when wired for… certain kind of activities, it must have been even harder for him; no pun intended.

“I want you here,” he reassured you softly, kissing your forehead. “Now come on. Time to go to b— time to hit the hay.”

Your lips twitched when he quickly corrected himself to avoid more teasing.

“ ’kay.”

Few minutes later, you were falling asleep facing each other, his hand covering yours from a respectable and safe distance. It was ridiculous, it was sweet and considerate and it made you feel the farthest from cheap and easy.

It was the right decision.

You felt loved and cherished and if you were watching Steve long after he seemed to drift off and you even mouthed ‘I love you’, no one needed to know. For now, it would be your little incredible secret. Tomorrow might be different. Or the day after. When the time would come. You knew you fell in love with Steve Rogers and that was enough.

You closed your eyes contentedly and let Steve’s slow periodic breathing lull you into a sleep full of the sweetest dreams.

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S.R. masterlist 

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Tags: @cxptain​ @mermaidxatxheart @smilexcaptainx , @murdermornings​@irepostthingsiwanttoseelater , @polarcrystall​ @eliza5616​, @rayofdawnworld @victor-criss-bish​ @skychild29​  @elysianecho​ @simmisblog​ @scentedsongrebel​ @orions-nebula​, @sergeantrosabellaswan​ @songofcosplay​, @ilovesupersoldiers​ @wxstedhexrt @silver-winter-wolf @nova3312​  @guardian-tn @janieavalos​ (some just don’t seem to work whatever I do :( )

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NOTE: We’re at the end, folks :)) But not really. We have a three-shot ahead and longer crossover with-- nope, wait for it, but it’s not Marvel. And you might hate me. Anyway.

If you are on a taglist for this fic, I’ll be hella presumptuous and leave you on it for the upcoming parts. If you want out, shoot me a message or an ask - I promise I don’t bite and I won’t be mad or something. If you aren’t there and you want to be, let me know either via msg or via ask again (don’t use comments for that, please, the notification on those are about as reliable as I am with doing adult stuff on time).

Thank you for reading!

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 5

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4

4 Months Pregnant

“I need customized stickers that say Baby On Board for my purple Lamborghini and the other cars I drive,” The Joker growls at his own idea whilst sharing it with the person fulfilling his wacko trades: Franco Rossi, the leader of best underground supply chain in Gotham.

“When would you like them ready Mister J? After Y/N gives birth?”

“Nope! Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?...” Franco hesitantly inquiries about the sudden emergency since he can’t understand why The King of Gotham demands them so fast.

The Joker hates explaining yet certain people are obtuse thus they necessitate enlightenment.

“Y/N’s pregnant: when she gets in a car, the baby is also. Baby on board! Hello??” the father-to-be loses his temper.

Who can argue with The Joker’s logic? Nobody. It sort of makes sense anyway.

“Of course, Mister J. I’ll have them ready. If you drop by after 6pm, I’ll have your guns ready too.”

“Perfect!” the Joker hangs up among the ruckus coming from the office near the kitchen: sounds of shattered objects and yelling alert Richard aka Panda you’re at it again. He nonchalantly passes by in order to deliver the items to The Clown.  

“Your drinks Mister J,” he gives one cup with Starbucks caramel latte to his boss and the other is placed on the table. Why does your boyfriend require 2 identical containers? It won’t take long to solve the mystery.

“Are the lids glued?”

Strange question but there’s a purpose in it.

“Yes sir. How is she doing?”

“She’s hormonal: breaking things makes her feel better which reminds me we have to hoard porcelain objects for her to wreck. NO glass!”

“Sure, I’ll tell the crew,” Richard leaves the kitchen while texting Frost. “Hulk needs more to smash,” he types the code name they gave you in the last weeks although The King knows about it: J’s the one that came up with it.

“Hey Pumpkin,” you are greeted as soon as you pop up from the office. “How’d it go?” he scrolls down on his phone and takes a sip of hot liquid.

“Ugghh!” a frustrated Y/N swings the yellow teddy bear The Joker stole for her on their first date, hitting his hand in the process. The drink flies near the fridge and splatters on the floor with minimal damage: only a tiny puddle instead of a disaster, that’s why the lids are glued.

Safety measure for The Queen’s unpredictability.

J grabs his reserve cup of coffee, paying attention now hence he dodges your renewed attack and keeps his coffee intact.

That’s why his drinks have the lids glued, in case you catch him off guard the second time it will result in negligible destruction.

It happened before.

“I don’t think so Princess,” The Joker strong grip on the container calms you a bit because you won’t be able to win this round. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” you pout and sit in his lap.

“I bet the baby is,” the secret weapon is unleashed: J discovered such a gem by accident and it works like a charm. How can Y/N say “no” if the baby is involved? She can’t.

A plate filled with a bunch of your favorite breakfast food is placed in front of you and strangely enough you’re instantly hungry.

“Extra bacon,” he purrs. “Plus chocolate dip and honey mustard for your pickled cherries. I added peanut butter olives as a bonus.”

In your defense, you’ve been having weird cravings lately.

You place the toy on the chair nearby and start eating, ogling a Joker texting back and forth with his business partners. He chews the morsel you just offered and shivers: waffle dipped in clam juice is disgusting. Maybe he should look at the food you shove in his mouth.

“Gross,” J washes the terrible taste with coffee and gets a kiss for encouragement, yet he’s aware of the connotations. Another kiss confirms it.

Let’s put it this way: besides the hormonal episodes and food demands, The Queen has had a fresh type of craving recently - The Joker kind.

More than usually.

That’s why he has to clear it up.

“I’m flattered for being the center of attention; we gotta keep in mind that contrary to the popular belief, I don’t have unlimited stamina, Pumpkin.”

You nod in agreement and unbutton his pants, then unzip them also.

“Y/N, pay attention!” J insists since you don’t give a damn about his woes. “Think about it as a two way street: The Joker Street and I Want To Break Things Street. Are you with me so far?” he double checks.

Why is he yapping so much??! I guess you should make an effort to comprehend: he’s even doodling patterns on his phone to emphasize the speech.

“When you get hormonal, Princess, let’s try and walk on the I Want To Break Things Street instead of The Joker Street, hm? The Joker Street is sometimes closed for repairs until further announcement.”

OK, OK, this is a lecture. Something about a Joker Street, he seems upset he doesn’t have one…?... Right?...

If you were him, you would be pissed Gotham didn’t name a street in your honor when you’re so important for the town.

Another peck on his neck, then your lips go down his collar bone.

“You’re not paying attention, are you?” J mutters when it’s clear his shirt won’t remain on his body for too long.

“I am,” you defend yourself.

“Oh yeah? What did I say then?”

“Ummm…” you try to piece together words among estrogen taking over. “No Joker Street?...”

“Bingo, that’s it Princess! No Joker Street, correct! Choose the other street, yes?”

This time he kisses you, excited his idea was well received when in fact, both parties are referring to unrelated concepts.

“Wait,” J dodges your touch, “Richard is calling.”

Because he’s on the phone ignoring Y/N, she is ensuring a nice surprise for later; concentrating to the maximum to avoid misspelling, the following message is sent to Franco Rossi from her cell:

“Make a landmark sign that says Joker Street.”

The King’s conversation is prolonged more than anticipated until he discerns you’re not wiggling: you feel asleep, softly snoring on his shoulder and he definitely can’t afford to wake you up.

The doctors said your body is trying to cope with the pregnancy the best way it can: if you doze off at random hours it means you ran out of fuel and you should rest. After cheating death and surviving the accident, the future mother is at high risk of serious complications which is why each day could lead to unforeseen problems.

The Joker rises from the chair holding you in his arms and after a few steps he realizes it’s difficult to walk: thanks to his unbuttoned and unzipped pants, they keep sliding lower and lower. There’s no way he will make it upstairs so maybe the sofa in the living room is the best option. He almost trips thus he begins to drag his feet on the carpet, the pants at knee level now.

“I’m reduced to a piece of meat,” J grumbles, finally making it to the couch and placing Y/N on it so she can have her power nap.

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

6:02pm

You accompanied The King to a meeting with Seraphim, the best hacker/strategist J uses: they’ve been plotting for a while concerning D.A. Kevin Winchester. The politician is becoming a huge pain in the butt for Gotham’s underworld and something must be done; either annihilation or blackmail, it truly doesn’t matter since he’s bad for business. Due to a total lack of interest in the subject, you are exploring the surroundings quite angry The Joker dragged you here.

Luckily there’s stuff to do.

Bam! you punch the fragile glass sculpture and it splinters into a million pieces on the lavish marble floor.

Seraphim jumps at the noise, immediately recognizing his beloved possession:

“That’s…,” he gulps, appalled. “That’s a Vitriol!”

Yup, the one and only Degas Vitriol, the latest sensation taking the art universe by storm.

“She’s hormonal,” J sneers. “She breaks shit!”

“That’s valued at 150,000 dollars!” the hacker breaths in much needed oxygen regarding the atrocity unfolding at his hideout.

“So??!!” your boyfriend sucks on his teeth, irritated. “Serves you right for buying that asshole’s artsy fartsy crap!”

The Joker actually has 4 Vitriol masterpieces at the mansion yet you were strictly forbidden to destroy them, alas he gave you the office for your rampages.

You continue your exploration as they talk about God knows what until you perceive an alarming detail: Seraphim is literally screaming having a gun pointed at J.

You sneak behind him then in a split second you strike the pistol out of his hand and your fist lands on his temple with such brutality it knocks him out unconscious.

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N???” The Clown hisses at your erratic behavior.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing??!!!” he repeats, annoyed.

“S-saving  you…,” you stutter, confused on why J is mad. “He was yelling and…mmm, had a gun,” you wince in pain because your knuckles hurt from the impact.

“The guy’s half deaf and sometimes he raises his voice without noticing, or did you forget??!! Now I have to wait until he comes to his senses and that’s a waste of my time, Y/N!!! Seraphim wasn’t threatening me, he was showing me his newest collectible!!! I suppose someone with half a brain can’t acknowledge the mess they’ve created!!!”

A lot of accusations thrown your way still… the last sentence brings tears in your eyes.

“I…” you bite your lower lip. “…I don’t have half of brain…”

“Wanna bet??” The Joker bites more instead of leveling with your logic: you though he was in danger and took action. If it was a real emergency, yes, you would have been the hero; it’s not and apparently he can’t appreciate your fast intervention in these circumstances.

“Y-you’re stupid…” you whisper, frustrated. “You don’t understand anything…”

Here it is -- the cataclysmic event of the century: someone called The Joker stupid. He’s beyond outraged with nothing better to utter besides a very childish:

“You’re stupid!”

Y/N turns around and stomps out of the house leaving a trail of destruction outside: she slaps the bottled water out of The Shark’s hand, kicks Panda’s shin and snatches Frost’s donut basically inhaling the sweet treat.

“I want to go h-home!!” you shout and enter the first vehicle you see, slamming the door so hard the window on the passenger side cracks.

“Jesus…” Jonny mumbles and being the sensible man that he is you are offered the whole box of pastries he purchased for his family. He can acquire more, but there’s no way in hell he wants to endure Y/N in the state she’s in.

Gotta keep Hulk calm somehow…

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

3 Hours Afterwards

You sulk when The Joker strolls in the master bathroom frantically searching the cabinets.

“Did you see my shaver?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“Did you see my shaver?”

“I…I wouldn’t know. I only have half a brain,” the surprisingly eloquent phrase queues J his woman is holding a grudge for his earlier statement. Why wouldn’t she? He was a complete jerk.

At least you didn’t catch on to the obvious: The King of Gotham doesn’t own a shaver; hair just grows on his head.  

He glimpses at Y/N soaking in the bathtub with a kid’s book in her left hand and the right hand fingers sunk into a bowl filled with ice placed at the edge of the Jacuzzi. The Joker leans over and switches your book since it’s upside down.

You huff at the unwanted help and stare at the pictures expecting he’ll look for his shaver and disappear.

You’re not that fortunate today.

“Imagine my surprise when I drove the main alley and detected a sign that says The Joker Street,” he brings up the topic.

Franco Rossi was super-efficient …sadly you ordered the item before J ran his mouth at the hacker’s place, otherwise you wouldn’t care he wants a street with his name.

“You said no… no Joker Street,” you stammer. “Now you have one,” the bitter tone makes him roll his eyes: Y/N’s brain got what it could from his monologue, he should have known better than to make it complicated.

“Excellent…” The King starts rubbing your tummy, “… precisely what I was aiming for. I’m washing the baby, not you!” he underlines when you move farther from him.

You scrunch your face displeased but let him do it because it’s for the baby.

“I know what you’re doing,” Y/N gives him a cold gaze. “U-using the baby… I’m not stupid!”

Busted, The Joker thinks. The schemer in him won’t accept defeat though.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Yes you did!”

“You said it first!!!” he reckons, antagonized. “Therefore two stupid people put together gotta make up for a smart one!!’

“I… I don’t wanna make out…” you frown at his suggestion.

The Joker sighs, deciding not to correct the trajectory of your judgement; it sure sounds like an opportunity.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired and…and I h-hate you,” your heavy eyelids close.

“Both viable reasons, even if I have to admit you striking Seraphim like that got me quite worked up. He’s no small fry! I had to wait for one hour for him to recover; you got a mean punch, woman! The more I reflect on it, the hornier I get. Which reminds me, Pumpkin: guess what?... … … I’m hormonal too.”

No answer, Pumpkin’s out.

“Of course nobody gives a damn if I’m hormonal!” he complaints while grabbing you from the bathtub. You cling to him for a few moments prior to drifting back into your dreams.

“Thanks for getting me all wet,” J snarls at the cruel reality of having his favorite Prada suit ruined.

“You…you’re welcome…” his Queen replies in her sleep, somehow her mind clutching to reality amidst pure relaxation.

This is what two hormonal individuals are reduced to: one’s dozing off, the other is suffering in silence, although being the proud owner of the tiniest road in Gotham compensates for the mishap.

It’s a two way street.

 Also read: Masterlist

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho. 

[beybladebladerboy999]

How the Brothers would react to an MC with a raccoon for a pet. This is my pet raccoon btw. And yes she can do all the listed things and yes....I named her Rocket.

Lucifer

"MC what is that thing doing in my house?"

Lucifer to say the least was not pleased. Especially not after he heard you call him a "Trash Panda"

The only reason hes allowing you to keep that thing is because Diavolo loves it.

So he just quietly loathes it until-

You handed it a broom and it started sweeping.

You taught him several tricks such as carrying a small case full of pencils on it's back and just in general fetching things.

Its smarter than Mammon. Then again most things are.

Hes secretly grown fond of it and buys it banana chips.

The neat way it eats with its hands is fascinating today the least.

Its cleaner than Beel.

He is seriously considering replacing his brothers with this "Raccoon"

He bought him a leash with a harness so you can take it to RAD with you

Not so he can play with it on his break but for an emotional support animal for you.

Secretly caught him feeding it cake

Mammon

Saw what your "Raccoon" could do with its hands and instantly thought of all the ways he could steal things with it.

Mammon is no longer allowed to pet sit.

He buys it all the latest pet clothes and takes it to casinos for good luck, not of your knowing of course.

This thing knows how to hold cards?!

Be prepared to watch your pet be dressed up in Gucci sunglasses and a leather coat

That leather better be vegan mammon!

He pretends he only likes him for the thieving but you have caught him baby talking it a numerous amount of times.

"* name* can you grab mommies purse while I finish this?"

When it waddled to you purse in hand Mammon fell in love.

Imagine how much pictures of you and *name* would go for!

Now uses your pet in every money making scheme.

MAMMMMMOOONNN!!

Leviathan

OHHHHHH this is one excited boy.

He saw one on an anime once and now he believes to his grave that you were the inspiration behind it.

This creature can pose with his figurines and will do it for snacks?!

Be prepared for human pet cosplay outfits

*cough* TSL *cough*

You dressed up as Groot for him on more than one occasion and are not ashamed.

Finally a pet that responds and can actucally give him a hug five back!

They listen to his anime rants without complaint!

Lowkey reminds him of a small grey beel.

You caught him on more than one occasion calling them Henery

His self esteem has slowly been getting better!

Lucifer is now invested in emotional animal support for Levi given his recent boost in confidence!

Now he has two true friends!

Even the raccoon picks up on his friendzone vibes 😂😭

Satan

So wait a second. He cant have a cat, but you the new human can have a rodent nicknamed a TRASH PANDA in the HOUSE

Is very miffed to say the least.

He found a new Lucifer....at least until he realized Lucifer also despised its mere existence

He saw this creature fetch a notebook, library card, notes, pens, paperback books, he was very impressed by the small backpack tote you sewed for it.

Hmm like a living backpack.

Simeon help you when he finds out that raccoons can pur!

" Its like a cat, but with hands and more fluff!"

Angry cat boi is now trying to steal your pet.

Can you say doubly spoiled?

He buys him collars, clothes, leashes, toys, you saw him feed it right off of his plate.

You are jealous of your own pet.

All three of you read by the fire at night, well it sits on your lap and stares at him. Which freaked him out at first but now he thinks of it as a silent endearment.

Asmo

So....that.... thing....is your ADORABLE PET?!

Can you say true love?

Your pet is now devilgram, Devilbook, devilsnap, and Demon-tok famous

Your pet is now a mini Asmo deal with it.

Outfits, jewelry, sunglasses, you name it they have it

Your per now has a more stylish wardrobe than you a which demo promptly fixes with all the money he made from his posts with your pet

Can you say pet owner matching outfits?!

Your pet is now his pet

You two apparently now have joint custody

They help him pick out shoes!

And hes your raccoon was in every strip club/club/ party/ store/ mall in the devildom

Gets immediately recognized in public and has sass for days

You own a furry asmo get over it!

Beel

Beel did not know what to make of the small furry rodent raiding his fridge at midnight.

So....he decided petting and eating would be a good option.

Not eating the rodent. Eating with him

Beel is now addicted to banana chips

He now has a buddy whose appetite almost rivals his own! He takes your pet to every restraunt, vendor, food truck, food stall in the devildom

And yes he loves watching it eat with their tiny hands.

With belphie gone beel now has a purpose again, somebody to look after. His sleeping habits are the same and they both cuddle to him for warmth

To see your beloved pet you have to practically move into beels room

He built and bought a kitty castle for them and has a raccokn snack drawer and all three of you love happily in heels room....and never leave.

You and your pet raccoon now reside in beels room

Beel falls in love with you quite early because of this

Sometimes he'll pretend that your pet is their child and play house with you.

The brothers find his obsession quite creepy to be honest

In place of the avatar of sloth he found a doting pet loving human and her sleepy hungry cuddly rodent.

You two replaced belphie low key

And nope beel does not notice hes to busy feeding your pet again

Belphie

"Do. Not. Let. That. Thing. Near me."

Raccoon hates belphie for what he did to you. He jumped out from the shadows and bit him...repeatedly. he never saw this creature before because you never brought him, totally caught him off guard.

Let's be honest he deserved it.

Eventually the mutual hatred grows to tolerance to curiosity this creature sleeps just as much as him and keeps the same schedule.

Saw satan gushing over it and decide to see what the fuss was about.

He threw it a treat.

He had never made an ally so fast in his life.

Need help pranking Lucifer? Raccoon can deliver and set traps. You can't blame him hes a adorbale pet of the humans and you can't hurt her!

Perfect escape goat

Eventually they start taking naps together

Belphie will never admit it but he bought the creature a small matching cow print pillow and they even have a bed to sleep on with him.

Your raccoon still loves you more and spends all this time with you. So

To see the raccoon, his new favorite stuffy he has to buddy up to you

Belphie is head over tails in about a month

You remind him of Lilith always taking card of those who need you. You love your pet with all your heart and it's a major turn on.

He moved into your room which you found creepy, you were terrified

Until you saw him playing with your pet. And they weren't hissing.

Cue whirlwind romance

It reminds him of beel a grey fluffy beel, the way they will do anything for a snack.

Cant decide who he loves more. You or your pet

Okay so if you want undateable let me know!

[fbwzoo]

A friend recently asked me a couple of questions about sloths that I have no idea how to answer. So I'm going to ask you. Could you train a sloth to be faster? Can sloths be domesticated?

Nope! There are numerous biological reasons that sloths are slow-moving, so it’s not something you can really change. Here’s a great link that explains more! https://slothconservation.com/sloths-move-slow/ 

And that’s an interesting question! So for one thing, what does domestication require? I pulled this quote from this article:

1. The animal needs to be able to eat a lot of different thing and be willing to live off the scraps of humans. If the animals are able to eat stuff humans can't, such as grass, then even better. This also makes strict carnivores somewhat more difficult to domesticate than other animals, as it commits humans to providing a ready food source of other animals for them to eat.

2. The animals need to grow up fast, or at least faster than humans. There's not much point in trying to domesticate extremely long-lived species like elephants or tortoises, as it can take several years before they're even remotely useful, and their long life cycle limits how quickly their numbers can be replenished.

3. The animals must be willing to breed in the close quarters of captivity. Any creature that demands a lot of open territory in order to breed - pandas and antelopes are good examples of this - are terrible domestication candidates.

4. The animals have to be naturally pleasant. An unpredictable or ill-tempered beast is just going to be dangerous to attempt to keep enclosed in a small area. It's possible to meet some animals halfway on this - for instance, the American bison can be kept in huge enclosures on ranches - but that's as close as we can get to full-on domestication for species like that.

5. It isn't just pleasantness - the animals need to be calm as well. Skittish or flighty animals will constantly attempt to escape, and it can be almost impossible to control them even if escape is impossible. This is what seems to have kept foxes from being successfully domesticated, as they're far more skittish than dogs and wolves.

6. The animals need to be willing to recognize humans as their new masters, which means they must have a flexible social hierarchy.

Based on those criteria, I’m gonna guess that no, sloths are not likely candidates for domestication. While two-toed sloths apparently have a pretty varied diet, three-toeds only eat leaves from a few trees, which is a VERY limited diet. So that makes #1 fairly unfitting.

Sloths also live 20-30 years, which is pretty long to be a very good candidate for #2, but doesn’t entirely rule them out, considering a lot of livestock have similar lifespans. 

I’m not sure how well they fit #3, as I’m not sure if there has been much captive breeding of the species. In any case, their slow breeding is another strike against them, as they only have one baby at a time, and typically only once a year or less.

They do seem to be at least somewhat tractable compared to other wildlife, which is probably helped by their slow metabolism & movements. But they’re not a social species at all, and spend most of their alone except for breeding. So they’re unlikely to have much reason to be all that interested in cooperating or interacting with humans at all.

So I’m gonna guess no, they’re not a very good candidate for domestication. Also related to that subject, being sold as pets IS a danger for them, and they do NOT make good pets, due to their very specific needs! Cute, but not a good option to support as a pet.

Info on sloths came from wiki - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sloth and https://animals.sandiegozoo.org/animals/two-toed-sloth

[jukeboxjulian]

( TOM HOLLAND / CIS MALE / TWENTY FOUR / HE/HIM/HIS ) i always seem to run into JULIAN EVANS at jukebox records. i’ve heard that if the REGULAR CUSTOMER had to choose one go-to record, it’d be SAVES THE WORLD by MUNA and that they can be CARING but also kind of SHY. for some reason, they always make me think of FINGERS CALLUSED FROM GUITAR STRINGS, TOO MANY SCARS TO COUNT, and THE TOO GOOD TOO PURE FOR THIS WORLD CINNAMON ROLL MEME. — ( alyssa, 27, pst, she/her/hers )

hi everyone!! I’m alyssa and I am super super new to tumblr rp... as in, this is my first time ever roleplaying on here in a group (eek)! I’ve been roleplaying for over 15 years now (seriously) and am usually used to forums and 1x1, so I’m excited to try something new :) I tend to write a LOT - as in if you don’t shut me up, I will give you thousands and thousands of words for replies hehe. anywho, julian is one of my favorite muses ever and I’m so excited to bring him here!! without further ado, here is my sweet baby angel precious baby panda, julian!

TW: child abuse, domestic violence, and alcoholism.

background | past & present

julian was born julian tyler evans on march 28, 1996, in santa barbara, california, to claire evans and dylan porter. if you ask him, he’ll tell you he has one parent - his biggest inspiration and his role model, claire. julian inherited all his best traits from claire: his kindness, his determination, his passion, and his ability to care for everyone and anyone. as a pediatric nurse, claire worked long hours throughout the majority of julian’s childhood, but still managed to stay exceptionally present in her son’s life and parent him through a tumultuous relationship.

dylan is out of the picture. julian has a few happy memories with his dad prior to the age of six, but the majority of their relationship is mired in trauma. dylan always had problems with alcohol, even prior to having julian, but those issues worsened when he lost his job in the early 2000s. seemingly overnight, the dad that julian once knew vanished. what started as a loving father-son relationship turned into a twisted game of cat and mouse, and julian found himself walking on eggshells in his own home. more often than not, julian spent his nights covering the bruises and scratches dylan gave him earlier in the day. julian and claire quickly became ER regulars, and he learned to sew his own stitches before his fourteenth birthday.

the abuse julian endured forced him to turn his pain and doubts inward. the overly happy and energetic child version of julian disappeared, replaced by a cautious and quiet boy who didn’t dare rock the boat for fear of retaliation. throughout his difficult childhood, julian found solace in one thing - music. as the son of two musicians, julian learned guitar and piano before he learned to form proper sentences. a natural knack for the craft led julian to pick up bass, drums, and production at an early age (though guitar and piano are still his first loves). the majority of julian’s high school years were spent locked in his room, perfecting one beat for several hours or layering vocals late into the night.

his best friend, danny, is perhaps the only thing that kept julian’s head above water throughout his childhood. julian and danny met in the orchestra room in middle school when neither of them had friends to sit with at lunch. the two boys became best friends instantly and helped each other through their childhood struggles - danny helped julian survive his dad’s abuse and julian provided danny with a safe space after coming out to his homophobic parents.

julian and danny moved to san francisco for college. it was there that they met zoe and kevin through an on-campus a cappella group. the four bonded immediately through a cappella and now play together in a band (and live together as roommates). you can catch them playing gigs around town, and you’ll probably catch julian outside the venue two hours later having in-depth conversations with every person who showed up for their show. the stage is the one place where julian comes alive - he’s a natural performer and sheds his shy persona easily when he’s in his element.

outside of the band, julian works as a second grade teacher, and occasionally works in the stacks at the local library during the summers to make extra money. he adores children and spends most of his free time coming up with lesson plans and songs to teach his kids in an engaging way. adorable elementary school teacher by day, hot musician by night: the julian evans story.

personality

julian is the definition of the “beautiful cinnamon roll, too good, too pure for this world” meme. he cares deeply and intensely about the people he loves, and he’s the most loyal friend you’ll ever have. julian is the friend who will hold your hair back while you puke. he leaves granola bars in his roommates’ cars when he knows they’re not eating enough. he goes out of his way to care for everyone he meets without expecting anything in return.

with that being said, julian is a bit of a doormat. this largely stems from his history of abuse - he’s used to thinking that things are his fault, and that it’s easiest to accept the blame and not rock the boat, even when he’s in the right. he’s the guy who won’t mention that the waiter got his order wrong at a restaurant because he doesn’t want to make them uncomfortable. you could shoot julian in the heart and he would apologize for bleeding on your clothes.

julian prefers lyrics to discussions. he’s a producer and a songwriter above all else, and he finds it much easier to express his feelings through music than through conversation. when his back’s against the wall - when he’s experiencing intense ptsd or anxiety or sadness or anger - he locks himself in his room and writes music.

as someone who craves deep, lasting connections, he isn’t one to have lots of acquaintances or fair-weather friends. he can count the number of close friends he has on one hand and he likes it that way. it’s hard for julian to open up to people initially, but once you get through his quiet exterior, he’ll let his guard down and stick with you no matter what.

in terms of romantic relationships, julian is tragically heterosexual. like in his friendships, julian is the type of person who wants a long-term, stable relationship. since his childhood, julian has always been a hopeless romantic, constantly searching for the girl who will finally make him understand the love songs he’s listened to his whole life. he’s painfully shy, which means he has a hard time approaching girls he’s interested in, and most girls don’t take the time to crack through his quiet exterior. with that being said, the girl who does end up with him for the long haul is in for a very loving relationship.

headcanons

around his friends, julian is the quintessential chaotic aries. he WILL set the kitchen on fire because he moves too quickly while cooking and will try to do backflips in the living room just to prove he can.

julian is a fantastic cook and a terrible baker, because he gets too distracted to properly follow directions. he’s also been a vegetarian since he was 13. his favorite food is his mom’s eggplant parmesan.

he has a small garden on the balcony of his apartment, where he’s trying to grow vegetables and flowers. he says hi to the bees that show up every morning and has names for all of them, even though he can’t tell them apart.

julian loves his music more than anything and tries to form deep, lasting connections with the fans of his band. he remembers every person he’s met and always tries to connect with people, even though it’s a bit draining for him as an introvert. he’s terrible at social media and has no idea how to work instagram live, but tries to do it anyway to connect with the fans.

julian will listen to anything and everything - kpop, death metal, folk, rap, the works. he drives his roommates up the wall by blaring music at all hours of the day.

he has a pit bull named belle that he adopted from the shelter. she’s his best friend. he also has four aunts, and was basically raised in an intersectionally feminist sex-positive witch coven. yep.

producing is julian’s biggest passion, followed closely by songwriting. he produces all of his band’s songs and enjoys collaborating with others on production. it’s the one area where he feels confident enough to be himself.

for someone so shy, julian is super comfortable with his sexuality and won’t stand for toxic masculinity. he and danny used to do drag, but he hasn’t had a ton of time for it recently. he is also very confident in the bedroom, which surprises a lot of people. hehe.

julian is a boxer. what stemmed from a need to defend himself turned into a genuine passion - it’s easy for him to turn his brain off and focus when he’s working out. that being said, you’ll only find him at the gym in the wee hours of the morning, when he doesn’t have to be around too many people. he is an introvert, after all :)

julian is dyslexic and has pretty terrible vision, so he needs glasses. he usually wears contacts, but the first girl to tell him she thinks he looks cute in his glasses will steal his heart.

[angeme8een-blog]

Casualties and Survivors

CHAPTER 1: AIRPORT LOUNGES AND FIDGETING LEGS

The romanticisation of airports has made life more difficult for travellers. It has permitted such overwhelming, not to mention unnecessary, public display of affection that inconveniences those who just want to methodically get from one country to another. Case in point are the hipster lovers who refused to detach their lips from each other, causing quite a ruckus at the drop-off lane. The already noise-polluted terminal air got more chaotic as several cab drivers started honking and yelling expletives at the tanned brunette and her blond lover.

“These young people know no manners anymore, aist!” Mr. Yang expressed his irritation as he scratched the side of his head. Brett wanted to give a cheeky response but he caught himself in fear of being given a proper lecture. Showing your dad how sassy your mouth is on a terribly hot day is a formula for disaster, and Brett knew well enough not to further rile-up his dad when his Chinese accent has already come through. Besides, he was just 30 seconds away from getting out of his dad’s 1997 Toyota Corolla. Might as well keep his thoughts to himself.

“Bretty boy, where is Eddy, huh?” his dad asked as he parked the car on an open drop-off spot and turned on the hazard light. Brett unlocked the passenger’s seat and began collecting his things while responding “he’s probably near. He told me his mom wanted to personally see him leave, unlike the last time we went on tour.” Mr. Yang helped Brett carry his luggage to the curb and onto a trolley before giving his son a hug.

“Now you go with my blessing. Be very good and kind, especially to Eddy. Call your mom from time to time, okay?”

“I will, dad. Thanks again for dropping me off. You should go back to the car before security decides to clamp your tire”

“Aist! I’m an old man, they should show respect!” Mr. Yang scratched the side of his head once more before going back to his car. Brett waved a final goodbye before he pushed his trolley towards the entrance. Once inside, Brett brought out his phone to check-up on Eddy.

“Bro, where you at? I’m already in line for security”

“Bro, please don’t kill me but I’m going to have to take the next flight out tomorrow morning. My sister went into labor five minutes after I left my house. We had to go back home to fetch her because no one else could drive her to the hospital. So now I’m here with Ma and we’re rushing to Queen Elizabeth’s” Eddy explained.

“It’s been 9 months already!? Damn, I totally forgot that Belle was pregnant” Brett slapped himself in the forehead.

“Dude…how could you have forgotten? Have you seen her tummy? It’s like she swallowed Pluto just after NASA announced it’s no longer a planet”

“I fucking heard that Eddy Chen!” Belle’s voice erupted in the background, prompting Brett to move his phone away from his ear.

“I’m sorry” Brett heard Eddy whisper to his sister. “Just hang in there, we’re about 10 minutes away from the ER. Now shush”

“Anyway, bro, so yeah. I’m really sorry about this” Eddy said.

“No worries! Just be there for your sister. Also, tell Belle I said goodluck! Wait, is that the appropriate thing to say to someone who’s about to give birth?”

“I’m not really sure but I think that kinda works. Update me when you’ve landed, alright? Don’t have too much fun without me. Also, practice!” Eddy said before hanging up.

Brett gave a small chuckle as he pocketed his phone. Leave it to Eddy to still be roasting his sister while she’s already in labor. The man’s sense of humour and quick wit are truly remarkable, not to mention unparalleled. Even Brett recognises the indispensable role of Eddy’s creativity in the growth of their channel. He concedes that most of the comedic content in their videos are products of Eddy’s ingenuity. There’s never a dull moment when Eddy’s around, and that’s why Brett is slightly disappointed that he would have to fly solo in his trip to the States. Just thinking about the long hours of sitting down and getting arse cramps every hour or so is already enough to bring Brett to a state of despair. Country hopping is fun, going from one city to another is too, but the actual travel is what really takes a toll on Brett’s energy and mood. He hates every single minute of it, especially the long wait in the airport. There are always way too many people, way too much noise, and way too much walking to do. He’s a musician, for Pete’s sake. His physical activities are limited to five minute walks (usually less since he spends most of his time indoors anyway) and the occasional Lingling workouts that push him over the edge. Just getting through security was enough for him to break a sweat.

After passing through the first round of metal detectors and the x-ray machines, Brett proceeded to the check-in counter of Qantas. It was a long wait before his turn so he decided to check on the ticket sales of their tour. Only two performances in the last city in their itinerary have not sold out yet, but he’s positive that it will eventually. TwoSet’s popularity suddenly grew during the first two weeks of January which the pair did not really expect. The abrupt spike in the number of views per video, not to mention reaching 2 million subscribers much earlier than expected, made the duo ecstatic and grateful beyond words. But their growing fame was a double-edged sword for it meant more work for both of them. It didn’t help that Eddy made a promise to their fans that once the channel reached 2 million subs, Brett would drop his Tchaikovsky recording. And so he had less than a month to perfect the popular piece before he finally performed it during the livestream they did last February. More than a million of the Lingling wannabes from all over the world watched him play the same piece he performed during his debut in 2012. It was nerve wracking, but it was pretty exciting too. Performing for his fans have always brought Brett so much joy, and he will gladly do it until the time when he physically can’t anymore.

“Sir? Please” the voice of the ground stewardess urging Brett to come forward to the counter broke his stupor.

“Sorry” Brett apologised as he handed his ticket. He was loading his luggage on the counter when he heard a pleading voice at the counter next to his. He decided to get a glimpse at the commotion, noting how disheveled and desperate the woman looked and how equally impatient the ground stewardess was becoming. Brett then abruptly withdrew his stare when he and the woman accidentally caught each other’s eyes. Brett continued to load his luggage so it won’t seem too obvious that he was eavesdropping.

“I’ll take any open seat. Please” the woman begged. The fatigue in the woman’s voice was evident, and Brett could not  help wondering if she was hungover or she just came from baby-sitting seven toddlers all at once.

“I’m sorry, madame. But so far the flight is fully booked. If you want, there’s another plane coming in at noon. I can book that for you” the passenger service crew explained.

“No, no. That would be too late. But please, if ever an opening comes up, please do notify me. I’ll give you my number” the woman said as she started scribbling on the piece of paper that the lady behind the counter gave.

“Mr. Yang, here are your boarding pass and your luggage tag. By the way, you received an upgrade courtesy of the airlines. You can use the Business Class lounge while waiting for your flight” the lady smiled at him as she handed Brett everything he needed. Upgrade? Brett thought to himself. That’s weird, specially since the other lady just said the flight’s fully booked.

“That’s generous, thank you” Brett said gratefully. “Oh, by the way, my friend Eddy Chen was supposed to fly with me but he won’t be able to make it because of a family emergency” he added before leaving the counter. Brett internally cringed at what he just did. He knew for a fact that the airline could not possibly use that information. They had protocols to follow when it came to cancellations. Aside from that, it was a really random thing to do.

Well, not random. Brett thought. You just wanted to help the panda-eyed woman without being to obvious. Damn she was tired. And damn, was I really obvious though.

Brett decided to shrug off that awkward incident by texting Eddy while he walked towards the lounge. He did not get any reply right away so he figured that his best friend was probably still attending to his sister. Upon arriving at the lounge and finding a spot to sit in, Brett decided to do some work. After he finished, he went to the bar to get something to drink and eat. He was munching on his crisps when he got a text from Eddy.

Bro, update our fans. Was supposed to do it but I totally forgot. And I reckon they’re not really interested in seeing a bloody head emerge between my sister’s legs yeah?

Jfc Eddy, you could’ve spared me the mental image. But yeah, yeah. I’ll do it.

Brett opened their instagram account and started going live. He once again thanked their fans for all the support they have shown, and then proceeded to update them about why Eddy was not with him at the moment. He was doing a mini Q&A when it was announced on the PA system that his flight is going to start boarding passengers in 15 minutes. Brett bid their fans goodbye, pocketed his phone, and left the bar to go back to where he sat before. He was ten steps away from his seat when he noticed that someone else was occupying the chair near the window. It was the same woman from the other counter, the one who was desperately pleading for a ticket.

Lucky her. I guess she did get what she needed after all. Brett muttered to himself as he sat himself in the sofa facing the woman. He placed his violin on his left and his carry-on luggage on the floor before bringing his eyes back to the girl near the window. She was holding a book open in front of her, though it appeared that she wasn’t really reading it. Her hazel eyes stared blankly at the pages of Sara Borjas’ Heart Like A Window, Mouth Like A Cliff as she bit on her left thumb.

Is she nervous? Brett wondered as he continued observing her.

He brought his eyes to her hair and noticed how it was haphazardly wrapped around a bun on top of her head, and it seemed like it would unravel itself at any moment. She was pale for a person who lived in Australia (summer is just about to end after all), but her cheeks had a little bit of red in them.

Is she ill? Has she just cried? Brett pondered. He continued staring at her as if she was a specimen in a laboratory.

Brett noticed that her right leg, which was crossed over her left, would not stop fidgeting. It would slow down from time to time but the shaking did not cease. Sometimes her free hand would slide down to her lap and she would start tapping it in sync with her fidgeting leg. There were instances when she’d bring her head up from her book and her eyes would almost lock with Brett’s, but he was quick enough to avert his stare whenever she was on the verge of moving her head. It was as if they were playing a game of hide and seek, except that no one was really seeking because only one was playing and he wasn’t even playing it well. He was just there, in plain sight, in open space, staring and ogling with no particular purpose. Just staring. And wondering.

Like a creep. Aist. Brett huffed as he realised how wrong it was to be people watching. Well, not people watching in general. Just the one. More aptly put, person watching. Or stalking he thought if I’m going to be honest with myself.

Brett’s slow descent into his own thoughts was interrupted once again by the PA system. His flight number was called, and its passengers were informed that they were to board in Gate C7. Since Brett got an upgrade into business class, he had the privilege of being accommodated first. Not to mention not having to walk all the way to Gate C7 because the airline lounge had a direct jet bridge that connected to the Boeing 787-9 which would carry hundreds of passengers from Brisbane straight to New York. Brett collected his things and walked towards the airline staff who collected his boarding pass and assisted him to the plane. He was greeted by the plane crew once he entered, and was directed to his seat.

“Would you like me to put that away for you?” The stunning flight attendant gestured to his violin.

“Would it be possible for me to keep it on my side?” He asked.

“Of course, Sir. I’ll just fetch some straps to keep it in place. I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable” she smiled before leaving for the cabin.

Brett immediately took a selfie and posted it on instagram. He messaged Eddy about the upgrade and teased the latter of leaving the duo to become a soloist. Eddy immediately replied with a picture of him with tears in his eyes. This made Brett laugh but also feel a twinge of melancholy at the same time because bantering with his best mate was way better in person than doing it digitally. Moreover, Brett started engaging in creepy recreational activities because of Eddy’s absence, and it was so out of character for him that he gave an internal scream.

Thank god that’s over Brett told himself as he inhaled deeply and settled himself in the plush window seat. He sent last minute text messages to his friends and family before he turned off his phone.

“Excuse me sir, here are the straps for your violin” the flight attendant from earlier returned with a pair of 13 inch black straps which she handed to Brett. He gave a slight nod and mouthed a thank you while receiving the straps. He then  proceeded to secure his violin to the side. Brett was about to close his eyes when the woman from the lounge entered and stopped at the chair beside him. She whispered something to the flight attendant who was assisting her before she took her seat.

Not again. Brett muttered to himself as he once again stared intently at the woman. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and he did not know why. She wasn’t exactly a head turner, but she had this aura about her that piqued Brett’s curiosity.

Curiosity. That’s it, I’m curious. That’s exactly the reason why I can’t look away. Brett thought.

There’s a story, surely there’s a story behind those tired hazel eyes. There must be because no one looked like that, like she carried the weight of the entire world on her shoulders, but at the same time radiate (but only minutely) a different, more positive energy.

Independence?

Brett guessed.

Gratitude?

Fulfilment?

Success?

It’s like he was playing charades with Eddy again, only this time the other person was a complete stranger and he can’t communicate, much more confirm, his guesses. He looked at her more intensely as he searched for more clues about the type of person that she was. First, he looked at her hands to check if she might have callouses similar to his. She had some, but it was on the wrong places. She was not a musician. Maybe she was a writer, or an architect. Brett was not able to come up with a proper conclusion as to her profession, but he decided that whatever she did had something to do with using her hands.

Second, he considered what she was wearing. She was just wearing tight jeans, black boots, and a plain knitted white sweater. She had no accessories nor any other apparel that would help her battle the weather once they land in New York.

Unless she has one in her carry-on. But I highly doubt that. Brett thought. He did not see her with any luggage at the check-in counter, nor in the lounge. She only had a big tote bag with her which she also declined to be placed in the overhead compartment. Brett inferred that this trip was a product of spontaneity, or panic. It really could go either way. But what was obvious was she did not plan this through.

Brett slowly lifted his sights up to study her face once more. But what happened next caused him to feel a rush of blood to his cheeks. She was staring at him. She saw him staring at him. And now their eyes were locked at each other and Brett did not know what to do.

Fuck.

[whatwashernameagain]

Keep him safe - Chapter 24

You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Previous Chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, Fantasy AU You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you

Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

Words: 11.695

Warnings: mentioned violence, abusive relationship, emotional abuse, panic attack, references to prostitution

Summary: Detective Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however feels a lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly have received from his costumary clumsiness. Meanwhile his partner Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!

Notes: This chapter follows the one-shot ‘mine to protect’ which you can find here. Also, this chapter is gay. Very gay. Lot’s of caring and talking. A cameo of one of my favorite humans and Patton makes a friend that gives him a helpful perspective. And I added pictures as an example.

Chapter 24

Waking up this morning with the aftereffects of crying until you had no tears left was not fun. The slight residue of a tension headache, as well as a really parched throat greeted Virgil. Groaning, he rolled over, only to realize that the sun was up high. Shooting up with a curse, he dislodged Cat, who howled in shock and rolled right off the bed with a dull thud. Darn, that raccoon had grown round quickly.

Blindly pawing at the blankets Logan had heaped on top of him, Virgil came across a piece of paper. Scanning it with sleepy eyes, he couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. Fucking mother-hen of a detective!

Logan and Patton had apparently ganged up on him by giving him the day off, turning off his alarm and abandoning him to Roman’s idea of a relaxing day. Running his hands through his tangled locks, the young man wished he could just – not be here, or at least hide under the covers all day and wallow in his guilt. The sudden stab of pain under his ribcage, the flash of helplessness, of misery and terror, helped him understand just why Logan had chosen to torture him with Roman’s attention. If he stayed in here and marinated in the memory of Remy standing before him, taking charge to protect him, almost dying under his friend’s hands, the fear he’s felt, the realization that his life, the violence he’d grown used to, that had seeped under his skin along with the constant coldness, would follow him everywhere – it would eat him up and send him right into a proper panic attack and that would not be pretty for anyone. With a sigh that made his chest flare with discomfort as if his ribs were newly broken, he got up to see what the moron had in store for him. He was sure to hate it.

*

“You can’t be serious, man!” Virgil screeched. His voice was higher than usual and his hands were itching to curl into claws. His old fight or flight instinct told him to kick Roman in the shins and run. Preferably screaming at the top of his lungs. Unfortunately, Rosa had come along too and she was sure to just catch him and throw him over her shoulder. He absolutely believed she could.

Talking of Rosa Diaz… Virgil turned wide, disbelieving eyes on her. “Why are you here? This doesn’t sound like a place you’d be found dead in.”

The Latina gave him an unimpressed look, raising a single eyebrow. “There’s nothing wrong with getting pampered. We deserve it.” She answered, voice monotone and unembarrassed. “Also, this place is magical.”

It sure looked like it. And gay. It looked really gay. Virgil wasn’t gay enough for this place. He tried to make a run for it.

“No.” Rosa said simply, grabbing him by the arm.

Virgil had faced down men twice his size armed with knives and worse, had climbed into stranger’s cars when he’d hardly been an adult and had gotten on his knees in dirty alleys out of necessity. He’d grown hard and lean and tough as leather and hissed in the face of adversity, but Roman had to coax him across the threshold of Hairstory Studio like a terrified kitten. The whole place was huge and bright and covered in black and white Polaroid pictures to create a comfortable retro look and it looked expensive. A dirty street rat like him did not belong in here! Roman, with his tall build, his confident posture, his perfect skin and dazzling smile was right at home here. Virgil was a creature of the shadows and was not supposed to put a toe of his scruffy trainers into this place. They’d sneer at him and scoff at his clothes, his hunched shoulders, his – everything.

“It’s alright, Virgil.” Roman crooned at him. His green eyes were very warm, as were his hands as they enveloped his thin, pale ones. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I know this is not the kind of place you usually frequent-”

“Because I don’t belong here!” Virgil hissed frantically. The detective’s eyes saddened.

“I can see that you feel – unsure about this idea, but I promise I shall be there for you every step of the way to aid and support you. I only want to show you a different part of this city, and perhaps help you find a different side of yourself. Not that you need it! To me, you are utterly perfect in every way, but I wish you’d be able to enjoy yourself a little more.”

Fuck him. Fuck him and his earnest desire to help. Fuck his big, gentle hands and his caring expression and hopeful eyes.

“Roman, this is nice and everything, I guess. But I don’t- I have no business being here, I can’t begin to pay for that sort of shit and I don’t want you paying for me!” He added hastily. He hated accepting charity. The fact that Logan wouldn’t budge on the rent money Virgil tried to pay him already made him itchy. He claimed it would be illogical, since he didn’t pay any rent either and he wanted Virgil to save the money for himself. It would be the ‘fiscally responsible thing to do’. Fuck him too.

Fucking Roman fucking Prince was very good at persuading him with his puppy dog eyes though, pretending to want this for himself and to want Virgil there for his enjoyment and looking so fucking sad when he tried to bolt… fuck him.

Somehow he ended up entering this ridiculously clean studio to have a – a spa day. Ugh. The worst thing was that he saw the necessity. Kind of. Roman’s hair had been growing much like an untrimmed garden those last few months and it had become longer than he’d ever worn it before, falling into his eyes constantly and almost brushing his broad shoulders. It needed to go. Similarly, Virgil’s hair, which had never been as well kept and tended to as Roman’s, had grown long and annoying. He kept blowing it out of his face and getting tangles into it. Tangles which bothered Logan so much that he kept running his fingers through the locks to fix them with obsessive neatness. The nerd. The worst was the color though. The raven roots had grown in several centimeters and the purple had grown pale from washing. Even Virgil had to admit that it needed a trim, though he would have just bought a package of dye in the supermarket and some scissors. This was a place he wouldn’t have entered in a million years. Especially if he’d known he’d get assaulted by a long-haired, very gay man.

“Oh my god, Roman is that you, hun? You’re like, the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen today and YOU BROUGHT ROSA OH.M.G I’m so happy you’re like, in my humble shop to be a badass fabulous goddess, c’mere, I wanna smooch you!” The brunette cried, hugging and kissing them both as soon as they’d rounded the corner. He was perhaps the gayest man Virgil had ever seen, with his brunette hair that was straight as silk and the heels he was basically floating in. Aaaaand he’s spotted Virgil.

“Gasp, who is this lovely little angel? I can’t even tell you how much I’m in love with you right now!” Before the young man could attempt to get away, the other was all over him, messing up his hair and tilting his face up. He froze, wide eyed.

“Nooo, Look at you adorable doll, like a little baby-guinea pig with anxiety. He’s so scared!” He even mimicked a nibbling rodent. Rude! Then he smiled at Virgil.

Ugh, it was the sweetest, most genuine look. Like he really, actually liked the young man right away. Virgil glared.

The man squealed.

Hopping up and down, he giggled about Virgil’s adorableness before pulling him in fearlessly to give him the – admittedly – most unwelcome and yet sweetest hug ever.

“Come into Jonathan’s arms, honey!” He chirped. Virgil felt loved. Reluctantly.

“Told you, he’s magical.” Rosa muttered contently.

A screech right next to his ear made the young man flinch and itch for a knife. Too high! These gays were too loud, too high! The young man yearned for the protection of his hoodie. Unfortunately it was currently weighted down by… oh. He’d gotten so used to carrying the fat and ill mannered raccoon around in his hoodie, looking like a voluminous fur filling, that he’d completely forgotten it was there. In a very tidy, very expensive saloon. He’d known he shouldn’t be here, they’d get Roman kicked out of his favorite place and he couldn’t live with the shame of ruining this for him. He already felt the uncomfortable heat rise under the thick fabric.

Jonathan wasn’t deterred though. What was is about fabulously gay men and that trash panda?

“Oh my god THAT’S a raccoon!!! This is like the greatest day ever I’m gonna swoon, catch me, Roman! Oh my god can I hold hercanIholdher AHHHHH SHE LICKED MY HAND OH MY GOD THIS IS LIKE THE GREATEST THING THAT’S LIKE EVER HAPPENEDEVER!!!”

Cat was the talk of the town. She got pulled from his hoodie, handed around, brushed and kissed and bathed in the shiny sink while the others were herded to the comfortable chairs to get their hair cut. Instead of hissing and biting, the contrary beast slubbered around the bubbles and purred loudly while delighted hairdressers massaged her. Jonathan was lost for about twenty minutes, cutting fur into shapes, drying said fur in stylish ways and then posing for selfies with the diva-beast.

“Yeees, work that camera, bitch! Oh yes, you’re a heart-breaker, gimme stripes, gimme claws, gimme sharp teeth and pitch black eye-shadow – yes, yes, yes!” He chanted, making kissy faces at the glossy, poofed up animal. By the time he finally found time to attack Virgil’s messy locks, the former gang member had grown lightheaded with laughter. His face was hurting and he felt giddy and completely unlike his usual self. Jonathan seemed determined to carry his bright and cheerful feelings over into his looks as he pulled and brushed his hair enthusiastically, keeping up a stream of chatter.

“Shut up, I’m obsessed with you, your hair is gorgeous! You’re gorgeous, stop stealing my heart!” Soon, Virgil was helplessly laughing at the outrageous compliments, spurring the other on even more, judging by the happy glow in his eyes.

“Oh you’re so small and feisty, like a bitey little raccoon - striped and, like, giving me I’m sharp toothed-I’m gorgeous and I know it-Imma scratch you-back off vibes - complete and utter perfection!”

And admittedly, he even did a great job. His hair was softer than he’d ever felt it before, bright and unapologetically purple. Short in the back with just the right length to fall over his eyes and let him hide when he needed it. Virgil couldn’t stop running his fingers through the downy softness. It complimented his pale complexion and made his skin look elegant instead of unhealthy and pasty. Amazingly, as he settled onto a comfy sofa to wait for Roman, he felt just a tiny bit… beautiful. This gay hairdresser really was magic. As he finally got Cat back however, he found they’d dyed a shiny golden spot into the fur at the tip of her tail and they were going to have words about that! Once Cat stopped vibrating in his lap. She wasn’t even hiding under his hoodie.

The last of his tension from being touched by strangers melted from his shoulders as he petted Cat’s fur (soft instead of shaggy and perpetually stick from stolen baking) and observed Roman in his natural element. He obviously loved being taken care of and made pretty. The flirting of those two was outrageous.

“Roman, baby, honey, those shoulders! You’re like, a real, actual prince and I wanna marry you, take me now, I’m yours you big, strong officer of the law. Such a hero! Look at you, busy saving the world, stealing hearts, like.a.boss. Like fricking Christ Hemsworth with all of that gorgeous hair Oh my god!”

“Dearest Jonathan, your professions humble and delight me beyond words. Especially since you grow fairer every day, I would die for you my lovely damsel! I’d defeat a dragon and pick the stars to be allowed to gaze upon your flamboyantly perfect hair and your make-up – simply radiant! What is your lip-gloss called?! I must have it!”

Jonathan blushed, giggling adorably. They were sickeningly cute.

While they flirted, the long-haired man made his magic happen. Pulling the too long locks this way and that contemplatively, he suddenly pulled out a razor. The cold dread that flooded Virgil was quite the surprise. He couldn’t shave off all of that gorgeous hair though! The caramel mane, shiny and thick and perfect, featured in all of Virgil’s most secret and more than a little terrifying thoughts. Rosa laughed at him as she felt him tense.

The young barista started biting his nails miserably as Roman obediently tilted his head forward and the hair started tumbling to the ground. As it turned out, not all of it though. The chatty hairdresser pulled off a stylish undercut of downy, soft hair that left a mop of large, shiny curls on top of Roman’s head that fell into his face just right and could be combed to the side to look like his head was full of pretty curls.

“And when you go like, chasing the bad guys and fight like batman you just go – wooop! And pull it all up to make this sexy, super cute bun and make all the guys and gals and everyone else fall for you.like.a.model! Gorgeous. Get out of here, you’re perfect!” Jonathan explained, halting his grooming briefly to snap his fingers sassily. Cat snapped her jaws to mimic the motions. Oh dear.

And fuck, he was right. It was a sexy bun. The hairdo brought out his perfect cheekbones and highlighted the shape of his face and was just a little bit punk and wild and Virgil found it insolently, impossibly hot. Roman’s bright grin and shining eyes made him look more handsome than he had any right to and the way he squealed with his friend… Virgil felt warmth pool deep inside him, deeper than the heat Roman’s beauty awoke in him. This wasn’t fair! Just as he’d thought he’d gotten used to Roman’s impossible brand of attractiveness, he went all punk-hipster on him and made him loose all control over his thoughts. The worst was that he’d challenged him to come to this place he’d thought he’d be thrown out with insults on his heels and he’d actually had fun. He’d been accepted even with his scruffy clothes and washed out dye and the fat, mean raccoon queen. He’d learned something new and experienced something wonderful and it was all due to Roman. He helped him out of his shell and pulled him kicking and screaming into the light with him, where things were warm and glittery and beautiful. Roman shared this beauty he radiated to selflessly, so joyfully and kindly. He gave him a place in a world Virgil had believed he’d lost the right to more and more with every ugly, disgusting and painful deed he’d done.

As the detective twirled in front of them, happy and confident and demanding praise and attention, slowly, a realization settled in. The detectives were here because they wanted to be. Victor was locked away, they didn’t need to protect him any longer. It was over. He was free to start a new life. A life where Roman grabbed his hand and complimented his dazzling hair and Cat’s delightful golden fur and where he got pulled along to get his bitten nails and Cat’s claws manicured and where he only had to fight the care and love to keep up appearances of his threatening persona because he wanted to instead of the need to survive. A life in the sun.

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

Logan was starting to understand Virgil’s dislike for hospitals as he made his way through the brightly lit corridors. The smell of antiseptic spray was more prominent than even he could comfortably handle and the neon lights above droned on in an irritating, low hum. He already missed the warm sunlight.

Bringing his little delinquent here was definitely out of the question. Considering how protective Remy had been of the young man, Logan assumed he would not have taken kindly to a visit either. No, it was best to let the therapist rest and allow Roman to look after their young one until Remy was ready to see him in a less stressful atmosphere. There was no reason for Logan not to finally pay his old friend the visit that had been long overdue though. He only wished he weren’t this nervous about it. Of course, there was no logical reason to be anxious, since it could hardly go as baldy as his attempt the day before where he’d found his friend bleeding on the floor. He would simple extend his best wishes, deliver his present as was dictated by social rules and engage in the expected length of small-talk for approximately 15 minutes.

Oh Tesla, what was he supposed to talk about for such a long time?! Considering the relativity of the perception of time in uncomfortable situations, a quarter of an hour could metaphorically feel like a lifetime and it had been so long since they’d last talked. Logan had no idea whether he still knew his friend well enough to have anything to talk about, he wasn’t even the same gender as last time and what if he didn’t like his gift? He couldn’t insult him after he got shot while taking care of his Virgil! He hadn’t felt this awkward since the first few weeks of working with Roman. Would it be cowardly to hope the other was asleep when he arrived?

Unfortunately, Remy had no intention of depriving Logan of the joy of finally spending time with him and giving him all the attention he had definitely not missed, no ma’am!

“Logan! Get the f- in here! You, like, never visit me in here, I don’t even know why I try!” He howled before the detective had even finished knocking.

“You have only been here for a total of 26 hours.” Logan informed him stiffly as he slipped through the door.

“Um, Ye-es! And how many of those has my adoring sidekick spent, like, weeping at my bedside – not that I care or whatever!” Remy complained, crossing his wobbly arms with a lot of flair and uncrossing them just as quickly with a hiss of pain. Finding himself unable to strike a pose or even take a sassy sip of his non-existent cup, he felt a very justified pout coming up. Where had the girls put his shades, he was so naked! Spotting only the bright blue plastic ones with the bunny ears attached to the side that Rena had brought him, he gave up with a sigh of acute misery. Nothing would ever cheer him up again, his life was over!

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose at being confronted by a display that was so – Rebecca. She – he, was all drama once again and the detective shuddered with horror at the thought of him spending time with Roman. Did he really need another friend who insisted to call him their sidekick?

Spotting the dark shades Remy had been looking for half buried under the very soft blanket displaying a large-eared, blue cartoon creature that someone had draped over him, Logan fished them out of the pile of fabric. Upon finding the object of his desire dangling from the other man’s fingers, Remy lit up brightly. He made sure to school his features into his usual mask of disinterest quickly, but Logan had seen and verdammt, yes, he needed another friend like him. Why did his illogical emotions insist on attaching themselves to those strange, dramatic individuals?

Perhaps because they made his heart warm whenever their face transformed with happiness every time he did something to show his affection. Remy was certainly growing enthusiastic, since he’d spotted the little package Logan had been half hiding behind his back, nervous of its reception. Was he assuming too much about their history by giving something that referred to an incident that had happened so far in the past? He was not getting out of this one though.

“Hand it over, missy! I deserve PRESENTS!” The therapist wailed as if he’s been abandoned without food or hope in a dark hole in the earth, conveniently ignoring the dozens of pictures drawn with brightly colored crayons hung around his room and a stuffed pink bear adorned with tiny sunglasses still tucked under his arm.

Sighing, Logan revealed the clear plastic box, holding it out for grabbing hands (and patiently waiting as they missed on the first try, his friend clearly was still medicated).

The therapist stilled in concentration, pushing down his shades to squint at the small print on the label – honestly, why would he not simply use glasses, he’d refused them even in the gifted-camp. Logan felt his palms sweat in nervous irritation.

A giggle escaped the other man that was too high for his figure, but oddly fitting nevertheless. The detective released the breath he’d been holding.

“This is, like, the worst gift!” Remy crooned, waving the package in lieu of a cup.

Feeling his lips curl helplessly, Logan remembered their first genuine conversation with more than a little fondness. His lip had been bleeding all over his tidy polo-shirt. He’d been quietly listening to Rebecca rave about the stupidity of boys, pulling her hair and telling her to play with dolls and giving her flowers. The boys of the camp appeared to have felt motivated by her dismissive attitude towards them and had made it a game to win her over with bad flirting, unwanted attention and the very same vegetation that was now lying crumbled in the mud before them. Their pink petals had rained down onto the ground since she’d used them to beat off her annoying harassers.

Logan had felt sorry for her quickly, considering how uncomfortable the young girl had felt upon being followed around and pulled and prodded. A very – unfortunate incident following the flowers had spurred the young nerd to step in. Certainly, he’d done very little but get punched in the face, but upon being confronted with resistance and a witness, the other boys had fled.

Rebecca had hardly needed his protection, Logan had been certain of it. He’d never seen someone stand up to others so bravely and made sure to tell her so. She was strong in his eyes, and the shaking of her hand as she handed him a tissue for his lip didn’t diminish that.

They’d sat in the grass together until the bleeding stopped, just talking to each other. As Rebecca had torn apart the leftover stems of the poor red campions that had been unfortunate enough to grow close to boys nearing the peak of puberty and stupidity, she’d groused angrily that flowers were the worst gift ever. What was she supposed to do with plants she couldn’t eat anyways? ‘Flowers are no f-ing use to me unless they’re edible. Frigging useless vegetables! All straight and arrogant and fake. Boys are stupid.’

Now, he gleefully pried open the box of edible flowers, pulling out blue pansies, yellow and orange sage flowers and purple violets.

“The worst!” His eyes were bright with unshed tears though. They settled into a comfortable atmosphere afterwards, trading memories and sharing flowers to munch on despite the doctor’s exasperated warning.

Unfortunately, the therapist did not intend to let his long lost friend off the hook that easily. He leaned back in the mountains of pillows that had been stacked behind him, looking like the cat that got the cream and making Logan’s hackles rise.

“Soooo, princess. You thought she was an effing cat?”

Feeling a flush spread over his cheeks, Logan cursed his pale complexion. He cleared his throat, adjusting his tie for good measure.

“Considering the less then ideal circumstances as well as the poor visibility inside the narrow confines of the container we discovered...”

Remy started cackling with nothing less than malicious glee.

The detective growled at him, annoyed at being interrupted in his defense of his very reasonable assumption.

“You’re a riot, gurl! You’re lucky you found that sassy lady. She’s, like, the best!”

“I believe the raccoon to be male, actually.”

Remy raised an eyebrow over his shades before trying to catch a flower with his mouth. It landed in his hair. “Trust me, darling. She a queen. She’s basically my spirit animal or soulmate or whatever. We’re made to kick butt together!”

“Certainly.” Logan agreed, deciding such unreasonable assumptions were best handled the same way he dealt with Roman’s poetry about Virgil’s hair. Remy was not fooled as easily though. Pinning him with an attentive look, he went for the kill.

“How is my darkling patient doing?”

Logan stilled, feeling his throat close up with worry. He’d spent most of the past night holding Virgil and reassuring him until he’d cried himself out and calmed down enough to sleep curled around the raccoon. Despite having seen to his care as much as he was capable, he’d still released him to spend the day with Roman with the utmost reluctance. The poor thing had been through so much and blamed himself for all of it. Though with the capture of Victor, the worst threats were behind them, the relief was slow to come.

“Roman has taken him on a spa day in an, I fear, rather misguided attempt to provide a distraction from the previous events. Your conversation yesterday appears to have eased some of his worries.” Quietly, he added, “Your support has been a great help to aid his recovery. I am – grateful, beyond any capacity I can express.”

In an uncharacteristic bout of seriousness, Remy gave his friend a little half smile. “Doll, I am the greatest therapist of all time.” After settling down more comfortably and frowning at the cup on his bedside-table (water, ugh), he nudged the detective’s thigh with the plushy that had previously been buried under his right elbow.

“Talking to me is, like, magic, didn’t you know, darling? Maybe you should try it! You’re too worked up right now, I can’t operate with you like that!” He complained, gesticulating towards Logan’s straight back, his too still posture. Though his fear of interacting with Remy had subsided, his worry hadn’t. He should be with his little troublemaker right now, make sure he and his partner didn’t fight and prevent his foolish friend from getting hurt. And he definitely felt like he should be there for Patton. He was a civilian, soft and sensitive, he should have never witnessed a shooting. He should...

Fingers obnoxiously snapping in his face brought him back to the present. Remy looked pissed. “Do not ignore me!”

“Apologies.”

“There should be! Apologies!” Remy huffed, hugging Remy-bear under his chin with a pout. “Seriously though, do spill! Entertain me!”

The invitation was tempting. Fear had been eating away at him for months now and he sometimes felt like the weigh of his family’s hopes and expectations threatened to drag him under. Still, he couldn’t. Remy had been shot and really didn’t need any additional baggage, no matter how curious and eager he looked. Conversation had always come easy to them, Logan remembered. Being the same age and just as intelligent as Logan, though less prone to showing it, Rebecca had been an excellent companion. Remy however, was currently recovering-

“Do not patronize me, you hooligan!” Remy howled, seeing his reluctance. “You, babe, have the regrettable tendency to take everything onto your own less scrawny than they used to be shoulders and have no one your age to talk to. Roman is f-ing cute, I give you that, but you won’t burden him, he’s your pet. Virgil is, like, your baby, you sap. And Patton is the center of your problems, you poor fool. So, spill!”

Well, he’d never been able to deny any of his friends, even if they insulted him quite rudely. He was certainly no sap! Unsurprisingly, it took a father of a pair of wiggling girls to understand the constant fear Logan felt for his beloved family. Like they’d been so many years ago, Remy’s dark eyes were warm and patient, inviting a stiff and insecure kid to sit and share his thoughts. As he exposed his innermost fears and problems and listened to his friend’s own in return, he knew he’d do anything for this sassy mess of a person. Nothing had changed between them. Even after all those years, talking to Remy felt like belonging.

**********

There were twelve of them. Their stems were tough and unyielding, securely carrying the leathery blossoms wrapped around each other, colored a deep, unapologetic red. They were bred to perfection, each and every one of them looking exactly the same, meant to last as if they were made from wax or shiny fabric.

He’d placed the roses on the counter next to the till, arranging them evenly. Many a customer had already commented on them, calling him lucky to have received such a romantic gesture or commenting on how beautiful they were, on how good they smelled.

Patton didn’t feel lucky and he was ashamed to say that - well, he didn’t like them.

He thought they looked dead, as if they weren’t flowers at all. So tidy and stiff and even. Nothing was out of place, no flower dared to grow with anything but symmetric perfection. Even the smell felt somehow fake, like too strong perfume.

A single wildflower or lilac stem or messy blooming weed from a field like a bunch of foamy white cow’s parsley, even a dusty little daffodil with its bright yellow petals appealed to him so much more. He liked how they smelled, how they felt under his fingertips – so alive and soft and delicate, how they rained petals and bright yellow sticky pollen everywhere. Such fearlessly messy little plants, imperfect, unruly and real and living. These flowers were so... they were given with love he guessed, but they lacked personality. Emotion. They didn’t fit into his cafe and they didn’t fit him.

Logan had gotten that.

Patton’s heart somersaulted as he remembered the day Logan had shown up in his colorful space, flushed and awkward, nervous because of little old Patton. He’d barely been able to look at him, speaking too much, too quickly. He’d been anxious about his reaction. He’d wanted him to like his gift. The flowers he’d brought him for no reason other than to help him and make him feel good. Not to apologize or to fix anything. Just because he’d wanted to give Patton pleasure. The butterflies in his stomach made a giddy feeling rise in him. They were excited at the memory of Logan’s tall presence before him, his gentle, large hands cradling wrinkling, brown paper, his voice sounding deep and just a little bit unsteady. Because of him.

His mind cast him back to the silky softness of the petals, the awed, rising feeling of mattering to someone. Logan was listening to him. He cared for what he had to say. It was a heady feeling. To be listened to instead of silenced for his lack of competence or a lack of interest. It was even more than that, though. Without needing to be told, Logan had understood what Patton needed, what he wanted even. He’d thought about what he’d enjoy. The flowers he’d picked had been selected with his taste, his needs in mind. There was so much tenderness in the gesture.

Unseeing, Patton walked past the stiff vegetation Trevor had an unknown delivery-man sent here. His mind was cast back to the way the colorful, mismatching flowers had spread their sweet scent in his cafe for a whole week, warming him inside. To the way Logan’s eyes had brightened when he’d seen him, adorned with flowers, like he was something precious. Sometimes, Patton felt like he’d gotten something wrong. Like a heterosexual man who just cared about a friend would not treat him with so much – appreciation. Logan’s touch lingered on him so often, brushing his back, his hip, catching hold of his arm or cradling his hand, his eyes followed him around whenever he worked, his attention rested on him. Yes, he was a caring, protective man and gave his all to affection to Roman and the kiddo, but the way he treated Patton felt so much more…

He sighed, his chest tight with longing.

It just felt like more. Like it meant something to Logan. Like it meant as much to him as it was starting to mean for Patton. The thought both frightened and amazed him. It made him hopeful, yet also scared, guilty, insecure and distracted. He wished- he wished he had someone to talk to. His whole life seemed to be turning on its axis, turning him round and round and leaving him dizzy with possibility and terror.

By a stroke of luck, he’d been saved from his growing fear and uncertainty by the arrival of his new acquaintance Emile and his utterly delightful little twins. They’d been at the hospital for a few hours, doting on Remy and spoiling him, before the lively attention had worn the injured man out and they’d left him to sleep. Since the kids were far from tired themselves, Emile had thought of Patton and chosen to have a look at his famous cafe. And it was wonderful!

The children were so precious, showing them around and feeding them with his most colorful creations helped take Patton’s mind of the difficult evening that had followed the long wait at the hospital. He piled his favorite cookies covered in white frosting and colorful sprinkles high on their plates, delighting the girls, and to Patton’s great happiness, their father as well. Adding his most adorable sugar cookie mittens adorned with pink and white royal icing, Patton decided that at least for today, the little family should have all of the sweet treats they deserved. A few additional pretty cake-pop surely wouldn’t hurt….

The fact that Emile seemed as enthusiastic about the cheerful baking as the little ones simply warmed Patton’s heart. He’d gotten so many complaints from mothers who disliked him offering the things that made him happy to the children that he’d grown a little cautious, but the blonde young man was currently devouring his cake-pops with the same enthusiasm the girls displayed. He’d even managed to get his whole face sticky with sugar and frosting. With great dedication, Rena picked up the crumbs tumbling into his lap and onto his shirt and fed them to her sister sitting on the other side of him. They were so pure, looking at them made the sensitive patissier tear up with yearning. Their relationship was exactly what he had always wanted. Emile and Remy had looked so happy with each other, so trusting and relaxed, and Emile was just the kind of father he had always dreamed of being. And he was so kind to Patton! The ladies from the knitting club had immediately included him in their group upon spotting him. Before he’d been drawn into a conversation about the pleasure of flowery embroidery, he’d told the baker how much his daughters admired his work. Before Patton knew it, he’d been allowed to have the girls all to himself and bake with them. Nothing could quite calm his mind than the enthusiasm and unassuming affection of children!

Redmond, who was not shy to complain noisily, had thankfully been supported by the little street musician with the pink hair he’d picked up in front of his shop. She’d been so tiny and adorable and so quiet and her hair was so pink and he’d liked her singing that he’d asked if she wanted to help out. Additionally, she’d brought her adorable bulldog. Patton loved those! Their faces were so squishy and they always looked so lost and wrinkly and drooled everywhere. Poor Redmond had started raving about health violations and hygiene immediately, grabbing a mop and a lot of disinfectant. Must be the medical training. The patissier failed to see the problem though. The baking was protected by the class of the counter and there were no pets in the shop at all today, since Virgil had been snatched up by Roman to have a spa day and thus hadn’t brought them in. He’d been getting disappointed complaints as day!

After about an hour of baking with the help of clumsy little hands, he realized that his kitchen had never been that messy. There was flour and sprinkles everywhere, crunching under his feet and on his sleeve and even getting in his hair. Patton loved it! The girls were so easily affectionate with their curious hands touching everything- the flour, the dough, his sweater and face, wanting to be picked up and held on his hip while they decorated the pastries and low-sugar, whole wheat cookies he baked with them. If he’d teach them something, at least he should make an effort to make it look like his baking wasn’t handing out diabetes like free candy.

His heart was feeling less heavy as he helped balance the tray of baked goods outside to ‘show Papa what we made, he’ll love it, da-ing!’ Polysyllabic words sure were difficult to say around growing teeth. Thankfully, the stress of the last day that had still put some well concealed tension in the blonde man’s shoulders had eased with good conversation and the sound of laughing children. He smiled at Patton gratefully, sincerely thanking him for his efforts and asking him to take a break to chat and get to know each other. Since the ladies were ready to be on their way, saying goodbye and patting his cheeks (and other places in Mrs Van der Beeks case) and the kids had found the toys in the corner, Patton agreed. As it turned out, Emile was, much like his children, exactly what the baker had needed. His face was open and friendly, his voice cheerful and kind. He was so easy to talk to, and Patton was in desperate need for someone to confide in. When he asked about the roses, it was just too hard to shallow his feelings like he usually did. Shamefully, he caved.

“Trevor gave them- sent them to me because of a – a little row we had yesterday. That’s really sweet of him, isn’t it? He didn’t have to do that.”

“Hm, I guess so. Investing effort into a relationship is what makes it a strong fusion after all. What makes you say he didn’t have to do it?” Emile asked, casually curling a leg up under him, putting his socked foot close to Patton’s thigh, offering contact but not pushing. A cheerful underwater scene was depicted on them. His tone was light, curious. Patton fumbled with his tea bag, wrapping the string around the chipped handle.

“Because… our fight was my fault?” He mumbled, hunching his shoulders. He shouldn’t be pushing his issues on this nice man!

Emile smiled encouragingly though, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “Oh? Now that doesn’t sound like just a little row anymore. And I don’t think a fight can be the fault of only one person, any imbalance usually comes from both parties, don’t you think? Trevor seems to agree, or he wouldn’t have sent you those fancy flowers.”

“Huh, you’re right.” Patton mumbled, looking at the crimson petals only for a moment.

“You don’t sound so convinced. Why do you think he gave you the flowers?”

“I… I’m not sure.” Patton sighed, running a hand over his face. “To – to apologize, I think.”

“You think? Is there anything he needs to apologize for?” Emile inquired, watching Patton attentively. His eyes were soft and kind. Something about this man felt so welcoming, like he genuinely wanted to listen and soothe. Still.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about this.” Drawing back, Patton made to get up. He’d never felt this urge to just spill everything. To lay everything bare. It was something he’d trained himself out of wanting, for the protection of his relationship.

“Now wait, that is a load of barnacles!”

Grabbing his soft sleeve and raining sprinkles on the couch, Emile pulled the baker back down so their shoulders were touching.

“You shouldn’t feel bad for talking about your feelings to someone who just wants to be there for you! Communication is healthy and important and you are not only helping yourself with it, but your partner as well. Discussing your issues is a way of working on a relationship, which is what your boyfriend is doing in his own way with the flowers. Making yourself feel better by getting support is not bad or selfish. Trust me, I won’t tell. I promise.”

Patton deflated. He knew he was wrong to push his issues on this nice man, but he was just so confused and conflicted. And perhaps he was right. He was overwhelmed by the situation and felt like he was about to make a grave mistake if he couldn’t get his act together. Perhaps he really needed help.

“You really won’t tell?” He asked. His voice sounded small. Trevor had always told him to speak up if he didn’t want him to ignore Patton, he wasn’t a child, but he couldn’t help it. Emile didn’t seem to mind though. His smile was as warm as sunshine.

“Of course I won’t! This is between you and me and it will be fantastic! Let’s have some storytime to fix the issues with your fusion!”

“Our – fusion? Like in Steven Universe?” Patton asked softly. The moment the words had left his lips, he felt a mortified flush climb his cheeks. He liked to watch cartoons about loving and tolerant characters when he was safe and unheard in the kitchen, to cheer himself up by seeing their affectionate relationships. Surely Emile would scoff at him. The other man’s face broke out in the biggest grin though.

“Oh my diamond, exactly! I love that show with all my heart! Enthusiastic Emile – activate!”

Geeking about cartoons was the best, aside from the girls trying to dye his hair with flour. Before he knew it, they were talking about more then fictional relationships.

“It’s so understandable that he was mad at me after I got home so late again, and I even forgot to call him again, he must have been so worried. This sort of thing keeps happening so often lately and it’s all my fault, I’m so distracted by other things and- ugh, I don’t know. I am such a mess and he was so mad and he screamed at me – and he was right to! And I should feel lucky, because the fight didn’t get out of hand like I thought it would – I expected it to but he kept his promise and I should be grateful, but I – I wasn’t.”

Emile listened attentively, making a mental note about the way the patissier had expected worse than being yelled at and was apparently surprised by the fact that it had not come despite a promise.

“Now your feelings surely had a good reason and they should be valued and listened to. What did you feel instead?”

His mug of tea had gone cold, but Emile was very much warmed by a fire for the hunched young man before him. He wished someone would give him a hug like Remy always gave him when he came home. He was much more of an affectionate limpet than his husband, but got indulged anyway. Sometimes he’d just jump into his arms when he entered their place and let the other carry him around until the kids made them topple onto the couch. Patton meanwhile did not seem to know what to do with the sort of feelings he seemed unused to.

“I, ohgosh... I got angry at him.” He whispered, half in fear and half in surprise at himself. The unfamiliar feeling had just welled up in him so suddenly, he’d been so tired and so relieved, but still shaking with adrenalin at what had almost happened to him, it had just burst out of him. For a moment, he’d just seen Trevor so clearly, and he’d looked so… ugly. So selfish. The memory still made his heart race, even here in his safe space.

*

“Didn’t you think of how much I’d worry?! Didn’t you ever think! Your forgetfulness hurts me!” Trevor had hollered, his pale face growing blotchy and red. He’d been leaning over Patton, getting closed, cornering him, his eyes wild. The smaller man’s pulse had hammered in his ears, his hands had been shaking. For the first time, he’d felt more than icy fear though. The stress of the day, the images of the loving couple still fresh in his mind, the selflessness he’d witnessed, it forced him to see the contrast to this situations, to the ridiculousness of his petty tantrum, in shocking clarity. Suddenly, his frustration felt like no wall could hold it at bay, no fear or insecurity, no terror of the consequences. Everything just broke out of him.

“Hurt you – I almost got shot today!! Remy almost died, why must you make this about yourself?!

He’d felt like liquid fire was consuming him. He couldn’t believe it. After so much tragedy, he was here listening to this! And yet he knew the moment the words had left his lips what he’d gotten himself into. He’d never spoken to Trevor, to any man this way before. He’d lose control over this provocation. He always did, despite his promises. He’d promised never to grab him too hard after the first time, and a year later he’d shoved him into a wall hard enough to rattle his bones because he’d unintentionally flirted with another student. He’d promised never again to shake him hard enough to make his head crash into the cupboard after Patton had forgotten to look at his phone and missed nine of his calls and eight months later he’d backhanded him across the face, making chis cheek swell and grow purple. He’s promised to never slap him again and barely half a year later he punched Patton so hard his mouth had filled with blood and his head had felt like it would split in half because he’d made a naive joke that had insulted him. He’d promised to never do it again and just a couple of months later he’d kicked him in the abdomen so cruelly, he’d blacked out for a few seconds. Patton had forgotten to lock their front door. He’d sworn to never hurt him again and the very same month, the baker had broken a plate and Trevor had dragged him to the bedroom for the first time and pulled his belt from its loops, mad with rage because of his believe that Patton intentionally failed to respect their home, burning the sound of cracking leather into his mind and his skin.

He’d promised things would be different, but they wouldn’t be. He’d beat and break him again and yet Patton couldn’t bring himself to regret his words.

However, upon being confronted with aggression rather than submissiveness, rather than fear, Trevor stopped in his tracks, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Instead of ducking his head, Patton braced himself.

Trevor didn’t raise a hand.

For the first time, Patton saw him backpedal.

“I’m not making this- how could you say something so- so cruel?! You almost got killed today, I’m only worried about you! About what could happen to you! I was never thinking about myself, like them! Those people keep endangering and hurting you and I am terrified that next time, you’ll be the one in the hospital! Do you think they ever thought of that?!”

In between the indignation, anger and outrage, he’d looked – afraid. It was an expression that weighted Patton down more than any shackles made of metal ever could.

*

“Why did you get angry?” Emile asked, pulling Patton out of his thoughts. He was grateful for it. The unexpected turn of events had left him more shaken than any beating he could have been put through. Just as he’d believed he’d finally understood Trevor, he changed. This moment, more than anything, he’d expected him to loose his temper and break his promise he’d tried so hard to believe in. But he hadn’t. He’d finally, finally changed his ways and Patton should be filled with happiness, with hope. This was what he’d been hoping for for years. Instead he couldn’t seem to find that endless well of forgiveness that had never failed him before. Neither could he stop thinking about the things he’d learned from the people Trevor claimed had hurt him carelessly. The protection and unending patience the detectives had offered to sweet, brave Virgil. The undemanding affection they treated each other with. The loving, domestic relationship of Remy and Emile. The way Logan spoke to him, touched him, looked at him, listened to him. It was like he couldn’t look at Trevor the same way again. Like he saw him through the filter of his new-found experiences, and it wasn’t pretty. Suddenly, it wasn’t the man who always knew best, who knew the way when Patton failed once again or who tried to fix Patton despite the trouble it caused him. In the face of his shifting world-view, putting his jumbled thoughts into words was hard, especially considering poor Emile had been through so much!

“Well. You know what happened yesterday. I should be comforting you! It was so horrible, I’m so so sorry you had to go through that!” Patton lamented, turning wide, sorrowful eyes on him. Emile melted. This baker was like a real life Steven Universe!

“Oh no, I’m fine, Patton. It’s all good! I got all of the cuddling and talking I needed and you were already there for my husband! Let’s not get off track here, I wanna know why you got mad, and don’t apologize for your feelings! They are valid and this is a place without judgment.” He promised, placing his now cold cup down and cupping the other man’s flour dusted hands in his. The baker bowed his head, blinking back tears and hiding under his light-brown curls.

“Okay, if you… So, I was pretty tired when I got home, so much had happened and he just got into my face and started complaining about how he’d waited and how I’d made him worry and how I never thought of him since I started spending time with Logan and the others, and I just suddenly felt so… so furious.” He sounded like he barely believed the words himself.

“I know I was wrong and he was right to be frustrated with me!” Patton hastened to assure the other out of habit and duty. And he did now all that. Trevor had been treated terribly by him the last few weeks. He’d failed him time and again and especially after his confession he should be trying harder. He should be working on his relationship like Trevor. There was so much he should do – but didn’t really want to. Retelling his evening made tears of frustration burn in his eyes and guilt burn in his stomach. Emile was understanding though.

“It’s okay, and I can absolutely see why you reacted that way. It’s a perfectly natural response and you were right to point out how you felt.” He hastened to reassure him. As a councilor, he’d come across his his fair share of difficult people, but this one sure sounded like a lot of work! The poor patissier before him looked like his whole life was falling apart before his eyes and he had no idea how to handle it. It made his heart ache uncomfortably. He itched to hold his girls. To be held by Remy while they curled up in his lap. He’d noisily complain about his day, entertaining all of them with stories about the trash panda queen until they were laughing again.

“You two have been fused for a pretty long time, haven’t you?” He mumbled, brushing his thumb over the back of soft hands.

“Um -yes? We got together while I was training to be a patissier, just after I finished high-school. It feels like after a while, he was everything I had, everything I could rely on. And I always wanted to be everything for him. I wanted to make him happy more than anything.”

“That’s… very selfless of you.” Ouch. Seeing Patton this way, shoulders hunched, expression twisted with pain and uncertainty, felt like a punch in the gut. Still, it couldn’t be helped.

“And… do you think it’s a stable fusion?”

Patton froze, pulled his hands back. His guards were up so suddenly, it gave Emile whiplash to see his expression close off so suddenly. The councilor was not surprised. A likely abusive relationship like this one usually found ways to preserve itself, through threats, manipulation or the feeling of helplessness and obligation.

“What do you mean? Of course it is!” The baker answered lightly. He intertwined his fingers in his lap, smiled at Emile like all was well. As if they were talking about the weather. There was a storm of emotion behind his eyes. How often had he felt he’d need to draw back from someone trying to help him?

Smiling kindly and tentatively reaching out for his hands, Emile tried to reestablish contact, tried to bridge the distance and barriers Patton had taught himself to erect at any sign of danger. He wasn’t shaken of as the cramped digits were gently unwound and held.

“Well, do you feel like it’s a fusion like Sapphire’s and Ruby’s? Where your strengths and weaknesses complement each other, where you each contribute to the happiness of the other and both do everything for their partner and you can’t bear to be apart because you both create something better than the sum of your parts when you’re together? Like Garnet?”  

“I can’t break up with Trevor.”

The words were spoken with a tone that was so final and hopeless, it made a leaden weight drop into the blonde man’s stomach. Patton’s eyes looked so – defeated. Ouch again.

He stilled, analyzing the statement. He dearly wished for his pen and paper. ‘I can’t’. Oh my diamond, that was less than ideal.

“I could never ask you to, Patton. I’m just here to talk and be there for you, alright?” He promised, knowing he’d have to give the other space or he’d try to escape a threat to his fusion as he’d been conditioned to.

They waited for a long, tense moment. Neither seemed to know what Patton would do next. He should leave, thank his new friend for the chat and get back to work. He should smile and bake and go home and preserve his relationship like his mother had taught him. It was the most important thing in his life. ‘We have to keep everything together, be strong and forgive him and protect the family. It’s the right thing to do. What else are we supposed to do? We cannot be alone and we must not leave him alone.’

Yes. Trevor was his to take care of. You didn’t just leave your partner. You couldn’t. Trevor couldn’t be without him.

He drew a deep, fortifying breath, steeling himself to send this man back to his perfect life, to go back to his own.

His gaze fell onto the flowers.

They smeared a spot of blood-red onto the soft pastel of his cafe, out of place and painful after having seen so much blood the day before. And suddenly Patton knew why Trevor had sent them. It wasn’t because he’d wanted to apologize. He did feel sorry for hitting him, for losing his temper every single time, Patton knew that. He saw how he beat himself up over his loss of control. But he hadn’t sent them because he’d felt sorry for being demanding, selfish and manipulative the night before. He hadn’t. He’d sent them to appease and keep Patton.

Without warning, the slight baker felt cheap and hurt and used. Trevor didn’t regret using him, blaming him, demanding more and more and more from him. He hadn’t sent the flowers out of love.

Emile waited, keeping his hands open and welcoming where they loosely held onto his new friend’s. An invitation.

“We’re not like Garnet.”

Mortified tears unexpectedly fell onto their joined hands. A quiver shook the young man as pain drove into his chest like a sharp, unforgiving shard of crystal. His relationship was falling apart before his eyes, his whole life with it. He was nothing alone! He’d never been alone! This was all that mattered! Everything he’d worked for – for years – it turned to dust before his eyes, bitter, wasted, it hurt. Oh gosh, it hurt so much. The realization that he was trapped in a building that was falling apart, spiked with cutting glass that was hurting him wherever he turned, that was nothing like what he’d tried so hard to make it seem made him fall into a pit of despair. Oh no, no he couldn’t handle this, he was falling apart-

Emile grabbed him quickly and pulled him in. Though he was just as tall as Patton and nowhere near strong and big enough to envelope him like Logan did, he held on like his life depended on it. Like Patton’s pain felt like his own. A sob broke free, muffled by a pale pastel cardigan. The young baker held on, trying hard not to fall with the pieces of his life that were dropping away beneath his feet. He felt so hopeless. Everything broke apart and he was bound to the rubble, tied to the ruins, crushed under the pieces of what he loved. The weight of his failed goals pressed onto his chest, constricting his ribs and his heart. He couldn’t breathe. The terrifying lack of oxygen brought his world into sharp, cruel focus. The tension in their flat, the anger in Trevor’s eyes, the anguish and guilt after a fight that had left Patton’s skin torn and his bones cracked. This was what he had fought and bled for? Everything tasted bitter, everything hurt.

Wait, not everything.

He tasted sugar.

Surprised, he blinked his eyes open, his vision blurry with tears.

Between him and the kind father holding him, a blonde little girl had squeezed her tiny body and was currently trying to feed him cookies with a determination that couldn’t even be stopped by her embarrassed father.

“No Papa, let me! Cookies make happy!” She groused, shoving the sweets into Patton’s face insistently, making him sticky all over.

“And braids!” Rena chirped behind him. There were little hands pulling his dusty hair a little too roughly.

“Ahhh yes, I know, babies, but this is a grownup thing, okay?” Emile stammered, frantically trying to save the man in his arms from both a panic attack and an all out love assault.

The sound that escaped Patton was a sad mixture of a laugh and a sob, breathless and half crazy. He wrapped the little girl into his embrace, getting frosting into his hair, and held on. She harrumpfed and tried to hold the cookie out of reach, getting it snatched up by her helpful sister. Sticking it into her mouth for safekeeping, she tried to climb the back of the couch for better access for braiding. Emile tried to hold onto both his crying friend and prevent his little angel from braining herself on the back of the couch at the same time. Darn it, he should be used to this kind of balancing act by now!

A helpful customer showed up and grabbed a hold of the squirming little worm, balancing her at the risk of unraveling her own headscarf. Oh Rena, please stop flailing so much!

A slobbering bulldog, barely held back by a pink haired girl, showed up next to join their sad cuddle pile, getting drool all over his precious trousers and – ahhh barnacles! It tried to climbs onto the couch with them! Emile was not buying a dog, ever! As more concerned people gathered, loyal customers, all of them, Patton seemed to come back more to himself. Though Emile felt quite overwhelmed and had rather shielded the poor thing from so much attention, Patton seemed to find something other than shame in his public breakdown.

Yes, he felt stupid and weak for falling apart so pathetically, but Logan and Roman had taught him that accepting comfort was no shameful thing. And he was starting so see that he had comfort. He had a life outside of his broken down relationship. He’d even built it himself. He was home.

The teen who always came in with his skater buddies awkwardly put down a glass of water before him he’d gotten from Redmond and his favorite soccer mom was looking at him with nothing but compassion, wringing her hands in agitation. The stock brokers who came all the way from their job to get his pear and frangipane pastries were worriedly standing around their table, clearly not knowing what to do but still wanting to help. And Emile and his kids had all but wrapped themselves around him. And then there were all of his friends who loved him, even when they weren’t there. He wasn’t alone. It wasn’t so bad. It would be okay. He knew where to find the strength he needed to take h- to take to the flat he shared with Trevor.

Wiping his eyes and gratefully taking the tissue the overweight owner of the nearby jewish bookshop handed him, he gave the crowd around him a brave smile.

*

Calming down had taken a little while, but eventually they’d managed to send the worried crowd back on their way and even the children back to their corner with their new friend Fatma. They’d insisted on braiding his hair a little more though. Carefully, Emile was now unbraiding the tangled locks, letting Patton lean against his side as he did. There were still issues he wanted to address.

“So, what happens now?” The young father asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Patton sniffled quietly. His breathing was still a little uneven, broken by occasional hiccups after crying so hard. He’d pulled his legs up, hugging them to his chest, making himself very small. The question made him tense fearfully. As if driven by a guilt he’d been carrying around with himself for a long time, his response spilled from his lips in a terrified rush.

“I’m sorry – please don’t be mad at me, I know you must be frustrated, and you expect me to – but - but I - I cannot just leave him. You don’t understand! I – he’s trying, and I have to try as well. You don’t just leave your partner! He kept his promise to me and I have to keep my promise to him!”

‘To never leave him.’

“Hush now, it’s okay.” Emile soothed, drawing Patton close. Curled up like that, he felt as tiny as his baby-girls. “I said I wouldn’t ask you to and I won’t. I’m not judging anything you do and I’ll be here not matter what. We all will be, don’t you think?”

Yes. Virgil had shown him that he accepted his situation, that he’d still be his friend. Even Logan, who he knew hated his relationship with a passion and anger only he possessed, had not pushed him again.

“Your relationship reminds me a little of Malachite in some aspects.” Emile added carefully. “You at least don’t seem very happy with it and you’re both trying really hard to hold it together for different reasons, even though it’s wearing you down. You feel responsible for him, don’t you?”

“I am.”

He sounded very final. Getting the message, Emile steered clear of the topic.

“Okay. So you won’t let your fusion come to an end for your own sake. That’s okay, it’s your choice. I wonder what it is like for him though.” He asked softly, trying to make Patton see a position beyond his self imposed sacrifice. “Do you think he’s happier in the fusion than before?”

The simple question got the patissier thinking. Of course he must be happier, people belonged in relationships, and Patton was doing everything for him. He’d pick the stars from the sky for him, he’d even let him step over his back if he wanted to get them for himself. They were together, so things were as they should be, as Trevor had promised they’d be as they’d become a couple. Patton hadn’t expected things to be to different from how they were now, he was used to the tension, the effort, the pain from growing up with his parents and had never been with another. And Trevor had expected… he’d expected them to be happy. To do everything together and fulfill their dreams, to create the successful business he’d always dreamed of as a young man, fresh faced and charming. He’d been so sure it would work and his belief and enthusiasm had drawn Patton in. Yes, he’d had some problems with his confidence, bouts of depression and insecurity, but he’d always tried to pick himself back up, to improve and work on himself.

And then he’d stopped.

The longer they’d been together, the more he’d started to let his anger take over, to push things onto Patton, to blame him for his moods and failures and cease trying to find fault in himself. He’d let his partner feel the weight of his problems, his moods, stopped holding back. And now… Patton didn’t recognize him as the brave, hopeful young man he’d once been. And he realized...

Their relationship had broken him.

Patton froze.

Everything seemed to come to a standstill as the understanding sunk in that them being together hadn’t been a good thing. It had hurt both of them. Trevor had grown secure in his right to act however he wanted. It had taken down his inhibitions, his need to work on his mental problems. He’d stopped seeing himself as the reason for them, since there had always been an easier target around that had never fought back and had submissively taken the pain and punishment, that had invited the anger.

All of his suffering had been for nothing. He’d made it worse.

There were no tears left to cry. Emile’s voice was far away as he got lost in the numbness that was his mind. The lights around him dimmed, the sounds blurred together. It was all too much.

As he came to, finally, the shadows cast by the sun had grown taller, and he found himself lying on the sofa in his office. Emily and Rena were nestled like a knot of limbs in the crook behind his knees, fast asleep. Steven Universe was playing on Emil’s phone. His new friend was sitting before him, looking worried. He’d just shut down.

Patton allowed himself a few minutes to adjust and allow his thoughts to run their course. It was a slow process. His whole body was filled with a tiredness that went beyond physical exhaustion. It was too much to process, all he wanted to do was be somewhere safe where he could simply hide from the weight of his realizations, from the fact that he had to come to terms with the monumental damage he had inflicted, from the understanding that he needed to choose consequences. For a moment, he closed his eyes and let his mind take him where nothing bad could touch him. He was on a soft couch, nested between pillows and cushioned by loving bodies and furry animals. The sound of pages turning next to him reassured him of his safety, of being watched over. How he wished everything about Trevor could just vanish. Then he could be there. Be with them. With him.

Pressure squeezed his throat shut, making his swallow hard. Fleeing was not something he could do. No, he had to move on. He was the strong one and would find a solution. He always did. He tried to gather the things he’d learned, tried to see the good in it as he did in everything. They had problems, but they now understood what they were. Perhaps that could actually give them a chance to do what they were both already trying to do.

Yes. With a burst of strength born from desperation, Patton vowed to try and fix things for them! He saw the problem now, he realized finally that they were both unhappy together! He wasn’t alone and it didn’t have to be them against each other, they both wanted their relationship to work, it was the only thing Patton knew what to want, perhaps they could try to make it work together! He needed to talk to Trevor, he was ready to try, he knew it! The fact that he had not hit him despite the multiple threats to their partnership had proven it to Patton, there was a chance! They’d go to couple’s therapy together and try one last time! Yes, they could fix it, like his mother had always wanted to with their father. He had a chance to do what she’d always wished for, and he’d do it for her.

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

Kudos to all of you who spotted Jonathan from Queer Eye. You treated yourself to a wholesome show full of love and acceptance.

So, this has been a long time in the making, but Patton is getting there. We’re in the hot zone now, I promise!

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! I always want to know how you feel about the chapters and love talking to you <3

Sources of pictures: Wildflowers, Roman’s hair, cake pops, cookies, mittens

Next Chapter

[expensiveminimalist]

It Took One Night - William Nylander (Part 5)

A/N: Hey lovelies! Here’s Part 5! Enjoy and let me know what you think please!

Word Count: 3k 

Warnings: Swearing (you know me by now), Pregnancy, Morning Sickness - please tell me if I’ve missed anything 

You can find the series plus my other writing here: Masterlist 

When your flight landed in New York, you’d immediately felt a weight lift off your shoulders as you left the drama behind in Toronto. Your mood had changed when you realised you’d be seeing the innocent, smiling face of your nephew Taylor soon, wanting nothing more than to smother him with kisses and cuddles, and have a reason to laugh for the first time in a week. You were excited to see your sister as well, knowing you’d have some to talk about your pregnancy to that has been through the exact same thing. Your family might not have been large, but your sister and nephew were all that you needed.

As the cab pulled up to your sister’s apartment, your face lit up when you saw Clara and Taylor waiting outside for you to arrive. It almost brought you tears because, after the hellish week you’d had and your fight with Madison, it felt amazing to be around two people that loved you regardless. You quickly paid the cab driver and grabbed your suitcase out before promptly dropping it on the sidewalk as you scooped Taylor up in an enormous bear hug.

“I missed you so much Aunty Y/N!” Taylor squealed, wrapping his arms tightly around your neck.

“I missed you too buddy! Ugh stop growing, you’re going to be taller than me soon!” you said, pressing kisses all over his face as he playfully struggled to get away from you.

“Hey, I’m here too!” Clara chimed in, wrapping her arms around you and Taylor, squashing the three of you together.

“Mum!”

“She was my baby sister before she was your aunty, so suck it up bud” Clara chirped, as the three of you finally let go of each other.

You smiled at Clara, feeling at home just by her presence. Despite your genuinely happy appearance, Clara gave you a look that you knew meant that she knew there was something else going on.

“Right, Taylor grab Aunty Y/N’s bag and let’s get inside so we can talk but, most importantly, eat!”

Taylor grabbed your pack, that thankfully had wheels, and raced ahead, while Clara put her arm around you as you walked towards the elevator.

“Not that I’m not excited for you to be here, but last minute trips aren’t really your thing. So obviously there’s something else going on whichwe can talk about when Taylor goes to bed” she murmured, even though Taylor was out of earshot.

You nodded back at her as you stepped into the elevator, ruffling Taylor’s hair as he looked up at you with adoration in his eyes. For some reason, the way he was looking at you made you feel very emotional and you weren’t sure if it was because you’d missed him or that it could be your child looking at you like that before you knew it.

After Clara and Taylor showed you to your room (and Taylor demonstrated how great your bed is as a make-do trampoline), you spent the day catching up on everything that had been going on in their lives since you’d seen them last. Taylor was obsessed with everything soccer and he’d even managed to convince his dad to buy him an Arsenal jersey, while Clara was seeing someone for the first time since she’d split up with Taylor’s dad almost three years ago. You made it clear you needed to suss this person out before it got too serious – just because she was your big sister didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to instil fear into anyone that took a romantic interest in her.

You’d devoured the freshly made chocolate chip cookies that Clara had managed to keep Taylor’s hands off before you arrived and, surprisingly, you were actually able to keep the food down. You’d still been feeling very nauseous but today you hadn’t had any morning sickness, which meant it’d give you more time before Clara figured out why you’d come to her in such a hurry. Clara ordered a couple of pizzas for dinner and, while you did your best to eat it, you’d ended up rushing to the bathroom on several occasions. You were pretty sure she’d figured it out by now but she didn’t say anything, most likely because Taylor was around.

So, once you’d watched The Lion King and read Taylor a bedtime story, Clara and you retreated to the couch with a box of chocolates and a bottle of wine. Clara went to pour you a glass and, when you furiously shook your head, she stared you down and said “you’re totally pregnant”.

You nodded your head in reply, chuckling as your sister filled her wine glass to the very top and sculled it.

“So that’s your reaction to finding out you’re going to be an aunty – scull a glass of wine” you teased.

“Well the look on your face makes me think that you wish you could, so I thought I’d do it for you” Clara chirped back at you.

“God this is a bit of throwback isn’t it? Except you and I both couldn’t drink then but, the shock factor’s still the same” Clara continued.

“Yeah it is” you said quietly, your head suddenly flooding with thoughts and questions you’d had ever since you took the first test.

Clara noticed that your face was now expressionless so she rubbed her hand over your thigh and looked you dead in the eye.

“Y/N, I know exactly what’s going through your head right now. Just talk to me ok, scream at me, yell at me whatever. Just, let it out babe”.

You sighed deeply, feeling the tears well up in your eyes, “I don’t even know where to start. Clara, what the fuck have I gotten myself into?”.

Clara pulled you into a tight hug as the tears began streaming down, rubbing her hand up and down your back like she did to Taylor when he’d fall over or get scared. You sobbed into her shoulder, letting all your emotions spill over as gasps for air escaped your mouth. Clara’s t-shirt was soaking and your nose was starting to run – you were a sight to say the least. But you didn’t care. Everything had been building up and it was bound to explode eventually, you were just grateful that it was in front of your big sister, the one person you knew would love you through anything.

“Ok so as therapeutic as crying is, talking helps a lot too” Clara started, releasing you from her embrace and grabbing the box of tissues from the coffee table, and thrusting them into your lap.

You blew your nose and grabbed another tissue to gently dab at your eyes, knowing full well you resembled a panda thanks to your eyeliner and mascara, and let out another huge sigh.

“Start talking” Clara prompted.

“Where do I even begin?”

“Firstly, who’s the father? I mean you never told me you had a boyfriend, and if you do I will kick your ass for not telling me, so I’m clueless”

“His name’s William. He’s friends with Lyla, we run in the same circle kind of thing but we never really talked much before…”

“Before you hooked up?”

“I mean yeah we hooked up at Lyla’s party but we had sex a few more times after that, and we used protection all of those times. So it must’ve been at the party – I was wasted that night”.

“So what you were friends with benefits?”

“No, well not really. He stayed over a lot, and some nights we wouldn’t even do anything but cuddle and watch crappy shows on Netflix” you explained, a tinge of sadness hitting you as you remembered how peaceful and comfortable those nights with William were.

“Have you told this William? Is that why you came here suddenly? Did he not take the news well? Because I will happily remind him that it takes two to fucking tango”

“No. I haven’t told him. We haven’t even spoken since, since I told him I didn’t want to be in a relationship, I just wanted something easy, something with no strings. That turned out really well”

“Ok so I won’t kill him – yet. So is that why you came here? You needed to come to grips with it before you told him?”

“Not exactly…”

Clara looked you dead in the eye, “what happened?”

“I told Madison that I was pregnant and all she cared about was William. So, we got into a fight and, to sum it all up, she called me a gold digger”

“She fucking didn’t! I swear, Y/N, next time I see her I will sla-”

“You won’t do anything, alright. What she said was disgusting but I’d rather just have nothing to do with her”

Clara threw her hands up in mock innocence, “ok I won’t do anything. Why would she call you a gold digger though? Is this guy quite wealthy?”

“He’s in the NHL. He plays for the Leafs, so she basically thinks I’m after his money because I told him I didn’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend butnow I’m pregnant with his child”

“Oh ok that’s good then I can google him and find out whether I have to kick his ass or not”

“Clara!”

“Kidding! But you know you’re not a gold digger right? You made an innocent mistake. Don’t let that psycho bitch make you feel guilty on top of everything else that you’re going through ok? You have more important things to worry about” Clara said, finally starting to be more serious again.

“I know, thank you though” you replied, directing a small smile to her.

Clara took a sip of her wine before asking, “so are you going to keep it?”

As soon as you’d registered Clara’s question, you sat there silently for a moment. You honestly hadn’t considered it, you’d been too busy trying to get to grasps with the fact that you were pregnant. It hadn’t even occurred to you that you had a choice. You’d subconsciously assumed that you’d be keeping the baby, but maybe, if William didn’t want any part of it, maybe you’d consider an abortion. As harsh as the word seemed, it could be what’s best for you right now. Regardless, you knew you weren’t ready to make that big of a decision. There was someone else you needed to talk to first.

“I don’t want to make any decisions until I’ve spoken to William. Even though we’re not on speaking terms right now, I care about him too much to leave him out of this. He deserves it”.

“Very mature. I’m proud of you. I know that you might think it’s easier to deal with it on your own but, speaking from experience, it’s even harder” Clara said, pulling you back in for another hug.

“So” you started, “how do I tell him?”

Clara chuckled quietly, “it’s different for everyone, so I can’t really help you with that one squirt”.

You snuggled in tighter to your big sister, feeling so secure with her arms around you and the familiar pet name of  ‘squirt’ making an appearance after all these years. You were always squirt, being the youngest, but Clara was the only one that could get away with calling you it when you were 10, 16, and now 20.

“I know we’ve only covered the basics but I really just want to get some sleep now. My head’s slightly less of a mess now, so it might be little easier” you joked, half-heartedly.

“Yeah, no problem. Just promise me you’ll actually go to sleep”

You gave Clara one last hug and got off the couch to head to the guestroom, “I’ll try my hardest” you said.

“Love you”

“Love you too” you whispered in reply, not wanting to wake Taylor as you walked into your room.

You changed into your pyjamas and flopped on the bed, willing yourself to fall asleep but, thankfully, it didn’t take long. You’d managed to release some of the many emotions you’d been hounded by for the last week – it might shut your brain up for a more hours.

---

Miraculously you’d slept through the night, and hadn’t got your usual 6am morning wakeup call by Taylor – presumably because Clara intercepted him on the way down the hall. You’d woken up feeling lighter, and your head felt much clearer than it did the previous morning. Luckily your dreams had blocked out any and all pregnancy connotations, and you momentarily forgotten that you were indeed pregnant. You say momentarily because as soon as you sat up a wave a nausea hit you and you immediately lay back down, hoping it would pass.

You reached over to the nightstand to grab your bottle of water, taking a few gentle sips before you decided to check your phone. Bloody hell. There were 10 missed calls and a dozen texts from William – none saying why he was trying to get in contact with you so urgently. You were a bit bemused by it all, considering he was the one that had ghosted you and all of a sudden it was imperative that he talked to you. Why? You weren’t sure. But, there was only one way to find out.

Waiting a few moments for your nausea to pass, you reluctantly called William, not even bothering to check what the time actually was.

Surprisingly, William picked up on the first ring.

“He-” you started

“Why the fuck did Madison tell me you’re pregnant?”

You were shell-shocked. He knew. He knew you were pregnant and he hadn’t heard it from you. You knew Madison was pissed at you but you never thought in a million years that she would tell him. The worst part, she didn’t even tell him out of concern for you – she told him out of spite. What were you supposed to say to him? How were you supposed to explain to him that this isn’t how you wanted him to find out? What if he hates you?

“Y/N say something!”, William’s voice broke you out of your state of shock, and now all you wanted to do was be sick. Morning sickness and shock was not a good combination.

“C-can you wait a second please” and, before you even heard his response you dashed to the bathroom. You splashed your face with some water before heading back to your room, trying to cool yourself down.

You took a deep breath and reluctantly picked up the phone to see that William had indeed waited for you.

“I’m here” you said quietly.

“Whydid Madison tell me you’re pregnant?” he repeated, quieter himself this time.

“I-I’m.. I-” you stuttered.

“Y/N are you? Or is this some kind of sick joke because if it is, it’s not funny in the fucking slightest” William snapped, and you noticed his voice wobbling, like he too was nervous.

You wanted to be able to explain something, anything to him but you couldn’t get you words out. The worst possible way for him to find out had happened and you didn’t know what to do. So, you burst into tears. You were scared and hurt, and it killed you to hear that slight waver in his voice when he asked you a second time because it hit you once again that this is as big of a deal for him as it is for you.

William’s tone completely changed when he realised you were crying, obviously registering the sense of betrayal you felt.

“I’m sorry for snapping. I’m not angry at you ok? I just have no idea what’s going on right now, and I need to hear from you whether this is true or not. I mean, I’m kind of a mess right now – not saying that you aren’t – and I don’t know if Madison’s taking the piss or not. Please don’t cry though, none of this is your fault and I swear I’m not angry with you – I just need you to tell me the truth” he said to you, delicately like any wrong word would shatter you into a million pieces.

You never wanted to tell him over the phone but, you had no choice.

“Yes”

His silence was deafening and only caused you to sob harder, terrified that he’d want nothing to do with you as it dawned on you just how much you needed his support right now. You just wanted him to say something but you knew he was trying to process this life changing news, just like you’d done so yourself.

“Babe, please don’t cry”

You weren’t expecting him to be worrying about you crying, in fact you were mentally preparing yourself for him to tell you that he never wanted to see you again. That one sentence gave you hope that maybe you wouldn’t have to go through this alone.

“Um, Madison told me you’d left so when are you coming back to Toronto? We can talk about shit then – if you want” William asked, spitting out Madison’s name like it repulsed him to have to utter it one more time.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks and started chewing on your sleeve, “I’m not sure if I’m coming back” you found yourself saying.

You hadn’t even thought about moving back to New York, not until William had revealed that it was Madison who had lit the fuse. You couldn’t go back and live with her, and that left you with nowhere to go. So, in that moment, you thought fuck it and decided that your chapter in Toronto was over.

“Fine then” William said abruptly, “I’ll come to you. Text me the address and I’ll book a flight for tomorrow”

“Wait what?”

“Y/N we have shit to talk about, and I get that you’re pissed at Madison cause so am I, but I’d rather talk about all of this in person. So if it’s easier for me to come to you, then that’s what we’ll do” he explained.

“Oh, ok” you uttered, stunned again by the fact that you were now going to have to face him in person.

“So, yeah just text me”

“Ok”

You didn’t say goodbye, and neither did he. You didn’t really know how to say a normal goodbye to him right now and you were sure he was feeling the same way. The only thing you did know was that William was coming to New York.

William was coming to New York.

Holy crap.

[lillianfromaccounting]

Finally getting around to this!

Was tagged by @cenobitic-anchorite (thank you!)

Putting this under a read more, because I wrote a lot.

1. What is your favorite movie? My answer to this is always Sleeping Beauty because it was the first movie that I stayed up watching with no adults. Like I must have been around 7 and my older cousin was 12 and we stayed up watching it after all the adults went to sleep. So for me, it signified some sort of independence. (On another note, that same cousin and I also stayed up to watch Pretty Woman before I realized what was going on in that movie.)

I know sometimes it’s a cop out answer, because I really can’t pick a favorite live action movie. There’s too many and I love a lot of them. Also, usually, when I say Sleeping Beauty, based on the other person’s reaction, I can tell if they’ll be compatible and/or get my vibe or not.

2.  If you had to drastically change your hair, how would you cut it and what color would you dye it?  I want rainbow hair, but I can’t have that where I work. I’ve been saying I’ve wanted to dye it red for several months now, but haven’t made the appointment yet (long story, but also mostly me dragging my feet). I’ve ALWAYS wanted a pixie cut, but have always been told that my face shape isn’t good for it (I did it senior year of college and there were people who flat out told me never to get that hair cut again). I’ll do it again, when I feel like I have the energy to maintain it.

3.  Can you drive a manual transmission car? lol, no. I can just barely drive an automatic. (Fact: I got my license at age 23 and didn’t regularly drive until 32.)

4.  What’s your favorite thing to cook or bake? Why? Is there a word limit to this? Cuz we’ll be here a few days. lol Favorite thing to bake is scones because I love scones. I also love to bake pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. And anything with a short pastry, so pies, tarts. I LOVE making sweet danishes. Oh crumb cakes. Oooh it’s season for fresh cranberries. I make a really good cranberry lime crumb cake. Cake, in just about every variation (rounds, sheet, cup, etc.) I like these because they’re delicious (and very few bakeries make them well, and I’m a dessert snob. If I’m eating it, it better be worth the calories. I’m also very particular about my cake to frosting/crumb ratio). Also, fact: I suck at baking regular cookies. I can do it, but they never look right and I’m pretty sure I’m screwing up the ratio of dry to wet ingredients or the butter’s not cold enough or something, but yeah, my cookies always look seriously deformed. (yes, I’ve seen that chart that troubleshoots cookies. No, it hasn’t helped.)

Favorite thing to cook. Hm... go to comfort stuff: penne vodka, but really, I like trying new recipes.

5.  How old were you when you got your ears pierced (if your ears aren’t pierced, do you want to get them pierced? The first time I got my ears pierced, I think I was in 8th grade, so 13-ish. After the initial however long it was that you’re supposed to keep them in, I got lazy so I didn’t keep earrings in all the time (and they hurt my ears), so the holes apparently closed. I got them re-pierced in sophomore or junior year of high school and again, after a little while, they closed again. I was thinking about getting them re-pierced again.

6.  Do you like Thanksgiving? Why or why not? I LOVE Thanksgiving. Yes, the historical aspect can go to hell, but personally, I love Thanksgiving. So growing up, being Chinese, we never celebrated American Thanksgiving. When I was about 13, I got a bread making book from the Scholastic book fair and discovered that we had a working oven (Chinese people don’t cook with ovens. We have a wok and a rice cooker. That’s really all you need.). Anyway, I started baking bread and it was amazing.

Also, our local supermarket would do the holiday promotion of if you spend $X, you can get a free holiday protein, and being a household of 8 (sometimes 10), we hit that spending threshold very, very quickly. So one year, I told my mom that we’re getting a turkey, instead of the ham that she likes. She was skeptical, but I was hell bent on celebrating American Thanksgiving and figuring out what this whole turkey hoopla was about.

I started cooking a Thanksgiving feast for my family (immediate and extended) from the age of 14. I did a sticky rice stuffing in the bird. Mashed sweet potatoes (no marshmallow. it’s sweet enough by itself.) I always made a lasagna (with cheese from DiPalo’s, where I would wait hours on line for our order) or another pasta dish. We did Chinese vegetables. And every year, we would pick new recipes we’d want to try. By ‘we’, I mean me. I would pick new recipes that I’d want to try and my three younger siblings would be obligatory sous chefs. And since bread baking happened in the wee early hours of the morning, we would have it for breakfast. So then I expanded the menu to include breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It became an all day thing and I was (and still am) obsessed.

Oh, it probably also helped to know that I come from a very large extended family and everyone would come through our house during holidays. Usually, it’s because my family hosted the mah jong parties, so we were kinda party central. My biggest Thanksgiving, we had about 50 people cycle through the house that day, so I had to make sure I had food enough for 50 people. Growing up, I’m pretty sure we never had less than 30. (It’s been a shock for me these past several years when we’ve hosted less than 20 people on turkey day.)

Then, my siblings would find recipes that they want to try, and Thanksgiving was this day where we would try food. Not all the recipes worked out, but no one ever got sick or food poisoning (oh man, I have stories from adjacent family members). But yeah. It’s an insane production and I love every minute of it (especially since my mom did the clean up, because bless that woman, she messed up Jiffy corn bread mix when she tried to bake, so she sticks to cleaning).

Anyway, after I got married, I demanded Thanksgiving, which my in-laws didn’t care about because they were getting it catered anyway. But I found out the hard way that they’ve sucked the soul out of my Thanksgiving festivities. One person demanded Stove Top (over fresh sausage dressing?!??!!). Fine. Another prefers roasted turkey (as opposed to smoked or fried). Year after year, they keep telling me to make less food, because they don’t enjoy watching me cook (they think I work too hard, but they also don’t understand that I’m having the time of my life).

At this point, I know that in order to get back to the Thanksgiving that I want to celebrate, it will be after that generation has passed. It’s fine.

I used to start planning my Thanksgiving menu in March, studying recipes and picking and choosing stuff up until like two weeks before hand. Ever since the kids came along, that excitement has also waned. But I’m excited for this year. There will be apple cider mimosas. And I’m roasting a savory pumpkin. And there will be artichokes. Oh and one of my good friends went to Dominique Ansel Kitchen’s pie night this year and had a poached pear chocolate pie that she said was divine. I am attempting to recreate it based on her descriptions of the textures and her pictures. This is what I live for.

(where the fuck is that barney stinson challenge accepted gif when you need it?)

and yes, this year will be my 24th year cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

7.  If you could live in the world of one film, which one would you pick? Oh man. D2: The Mighty Ducks. Ok, I lied. I do have a favorite live action movie. I wish I had a more creative answer to this. Yeah, Harry Potter’s world would be cool. Yeah, I identify with hobbits. Any of the Star Treks would also be good in terms of universes. But I want Adam Banks to teach (13-14 year old) me how to ice skate.

8.  What kind of pet have you never had, but have always wanted? lol one of my bffs and I always wanted a baby panda.

9.  If you won the huge lottery, what would be the first 3 things you’d do?Get a good fucking lawyer, set up a shell foundation so it’s not listed in mine or my husband’s name, prepare to disappear after a couple of years of acting normal. Then, for the more fun three, pay off debt, travel, get a house somewhere the fuck else.

Ceno’s answer was too perfect, so I left it, mainly because I’d pretty much do the same. I’d buy my parents a new house and hire a chauffeur for them. Also @katiekeysburg will get a chauffeur. And I’d throw money at teleportation research. And fund a bunch of gofundmes.

10.  Have you ever gotten a tattoo? What is it? If you haven’t, do you want one? I do not have any but I’ve always wanted one of my Chinese name above my ankle and I’ve always wanted the pi character somewhere (debated various locations). One day, when I get the guts to. (and when it’s seasonally appropriate to get one above my ankle, cuz omg I never knew about the various care required while it heals.)

11.  What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done? hahaha um. Probably calling the cops on an online friend who I thought was going to kill himself, but he really wasn’t (but I didn’t know that). (hey kids, don’t put your addresses in your aol profiles--yes I’m ancient.) actually, I’ve done my share to stupid aol/online shit. it will probably come back to haunt me if i ever run for public office or marry a celebrity.

Ok, real stupid thing. I’m a severe klutz, and one time I walked off a raised cement slab (like the kind that statues would sit on) and sprained my ankle. It was probably 3 inches off the ground on the side that I got on it, but it was further off the ground on the other side, so when I got off the slab, I misjudged where to put my foot and I rolled my ankle. Ended up at the ER and they put me in a soft cast. I had to have crutches to get around campus and this one guy who I don’t even know his name, picked me up and carried me up the campus hill (we had a really big hill), and it was against my consent. I did NOT want him to pick me up. It was terrible. Anyway, I rolled my ankle by walking. I have tons of stupid shit. How much time you got?

I was also pretty pretentious when I was younger. (I might still be. I’m not as self aware as I wish to be.) I once asked an Italian friend to try my tomato sauce and asked him what was missing because it didn’t taste right. (I know. I was so gross. You learn from your own grossness though.)

What other stupidity? I fawned over boys. My bff gave me a copy of The Giving Tree in college (I had never read it before) as a metaphor of how much of myself I gave to this toxic dude. I sobbed reading it for the first time.

In hindsight, not getting my license at 17 was a pretty stupid move too. But that also had to do with life circumstances.

OH. Turning down an interview for an internship with my dream company at the time, because I had already accepted an internship position with another company.

Trying to explain to my MBA ethics class how my industry worked only to get it mansplained back to me (pretty stupid of me to have tried in the first place).

Going for my MBA was also a pretty stupid move in the holistic view of my life.

12.  Have you accomplished your New Year’s Resolution for 2018? I honestly don’t remember if I even made resolutions, so I’m going to say hard no.

13.  If you could get any degree from any school, free of charge, what would you pick? Criminal Psychology. Ceno, we can go to school together! (this reminds me I need to catch up on last week’s Criminal Minds) Another option would be anything in the forensics sciences. I would also like to learn massage therapy. And I want to take that artisan bread breaking course at the Institute of Culinary Education.

I forget how many people I’m supposed to tag. @katiekeysburg @daisyjm75 @steverogersnotebook