#I named my dog after a book character cause I’m a nerd

[sadghostblogs]

Thought it was high time I introduce my goofy goob.

Prince Nikolai- Niko 🫶🏻 also known as Bug 🐛 almost 2 y/o labradoodle

He’s a lil nervy boi, especially with humans, but he is so good with other dogs and loves playing with dogs much bigger than him!

He’s (very naturally) got his own instagram- adventuresof.niko 🫶🏻

I’ve tried super hard with his training, one of our big goals would be to work on his Separation Anxiety and his ability to settle- at home and just out and about- but otherwise he’s such a superstar 🥰

My whole heart 🥰

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  GIMME HALF

REQUEST : “hi!! I was wondering if you could maybe write an age gap (legal obv) with female!reader × dean winchester where the reader is like in her 20s and dean's in his 40s :) just some rough smut with choking and hair pulling and spitting (if you're comfortable with it) and dean being like super "hungry" for her, like he's waited a long time for it to happen. also lots of dirty talks cause i absolutely love them hahah :) anyways im in love with your writing and all your stories! thanks a lot! <3” — anonymous

PAIRING : dean winchester x professor!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : miracle, sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, enemies to lovers, age gap, voyeurism, smut, oral sex, p in v, praise kink, choking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, rough sex, spitting

WORD COUNT : 8.4k

A/N : devil wears prada song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — chair sex and food play. I wrote this half-asleep while listening to ASMR, like… that’s how I write most of my stories, plus, they’re always written between 00.00-02.40. Doctor Who references, ‘cause I’m a nerd. I got carried away…. Cliffhanger bc I’m cruel.

There were countless pros and cons to having houses built so close together with windows facing the same direction. 

Pros: Accidentally seeing your hot neighbour walk around naked in the living room and kitchen. Accidentally catching your hot neighbour jerk off when they think that everyone’s asleep.

Yup, she’s seen all of that and more. All from that nameless, freckled, green-eyed man next door. 

Even wholesome things, like him playing with his cute dog, babying the little rascal and spoiling it. Him cooking and baking, being wholeheartedly content with feeding it to the tall, Hazel-eyed puppy dog of a man, the tall man’s gorgeous deaf wife, and his tiny adorable son; the blue-eyed, dreamy dude in a trench coat; and that endearing young boy with blue eyes who looked like a combination of all three of the men. 

There were times where she’d seen the green-eyed man dressed as a cowboy and even a princess to entertain the little baby boy—his nephew. For sleepovers with him, he’d read him bedtime stories while being completely animated. He’d build a bunch of forts, with sheets, the couch, pillows, and some Christmas lights. He'd talk to the little boy and hold serious conversations despite neither of them being able to understand each other. He’d teach the young boy and the baby boy how to fix cars—at least he tried to. He’d pack his best friends' lunches every morning with his hair unkempt, half asleep, while sipping on some coffee. He’d even take naps with the baby, treating him as his own son. 

He’d do ridiculously endearing things, too, such as baking bread at night when he couldn’t sleep. He'd read books only when he was alone, as if he’d be made fun of by his friends, and she finally understood why. They were either romantic, erotic, or completely nerdy and abstract. He had range. He’d watch cheesy soap operas and rom-com k-dramas when he did chores. He loved to collect things such as Pokémon cards and even legos. 

There were a million things he did that she thought were cute. The windows into his house were like the screens of a television, like her favourite character, she got to see him when he’s relaxed and surrounded only by those who love him 

As for the cons, we’ll get to that…

When they first moved in, it was about three and a half years ago. She’d been visiting her family in Kansas City for her oldest brother’s birthday in June. 

When she returned to Lebanon, they had already settled down. There was a brown and beige Ford pickup truck, a black Subaru—both parked in the front, and a sleek black Impala in the driveway.

The youngest, Jack, waved at her one day when he returned with Cas after buying groceries. Then, Cas awkwardly introduced himself and Jack, and gave her the names of the other two men who were brothers, Sam is the tall one and Dean was the freckled one. 

Sam was the most social one. He’d spark up conversation with her whenever he saw her, dropping bits and pieces of information about himself, his brother, his fiancée, Cas, Jack, and Dean’s loyal dog, Miracle. 

After seven months of living together, Sam moved out with his wife, Eileen. They’d just gotten married, and they both invited her. She’d gone, the wedding was pretty, cute, and modest. Y/n had spoken to a few of their close family and friends. Dean, however, kept to himself the whole night as if he were grieving. He’d smile occasionally if any of his friends came to him, he was enthusiastic, and then he'd go back into himself.

Four months later, Sam and EIleen returned; she was pregnant. It was a boy, he’d planned on naming him after his big brother, which Y/n thought was adorable. He hadn’t told his brother, but planned on telling him the day his son was born.

Y/n could tell Dean had mixed feelings about his brother’s departure, mostly negative feelings. He loved Eileen and his nephew. But when it was just him, Cas, and Jack, he'd often drink, despite concerned, useless interventions with Cas. Unless Sam, Eileen, and his nephew were there. He’d never even glance at that top-shelf cupboard.

The good thing was that at least Dean was a happy drunk.

The first time she interacted with Dean was a few weeks after she’d returned from Kansas City, she assumed two things: his heart was closed off to new people, and he’s one hot, irritating, grumpy, sour, old man.

It was the spring semester at Kansas University. Y/n was grading her students’ creative, personal essays in the office downstairs. She was perplexed by the small percentage of her students and their inability to use proper grammar or follow the thorough, detailed checklist she created to get them to pass easily. 

Just when she thought she’d gotten great at making their lives easy, they return the shittiest, half-assed essays. She felt bad for the bad grades, but since the rest of her students managed to get perfect scores or at least proficient scores, she couldn’t just let them pass. 

Loud banging on the door startled her from reading an impressive essay. Her blood ran cold and she scrambled up from her rolling chair, ignoring that she pushed it halfway across the room. 

Her socked feet were quiet on the wooden floor, making her way quickly down the hallway until she got to the shelf where she kept her gun. She pressed it against the door and looked through the peephole, then relaxed when she saw Dean.

She was irritated by the loud knocking, though, regardless of how cute he looked when he was clearly pissed off. She opened the door and set the gun down on the table where she usually placed her keys.

“Lady, have you seen the mess you made outside?” Dean asked her, pointing behind him. She stared at him, stunned by how much prettier he looked up close. Her cheeks turned hot, but she looked past him trying to see whatever he was pointing at. 

She looked at her red Mustang parked in the front as a reminder to restock the kitchen, then looked close to where his house was. She winced at the mud and the running water from her hose going into his nice lawn.

“Shit,” she murmured, toeing her socks off before moving past Dean to turn the hose off. She got distracted by the mud and the puddles as she pulled the hose, and coiled it back where it should have been. It’s been a while since she last let her bare feet feel this beneath, the smell of wet dirt was amazing, even when it wasn’t caused by rainfall.

“Do you always do shit like this?” He asked from behind, his tone harsh. 

She frowned when she turned to look at his furious face, careful to not touch her forehead with her muddy hands when she used her wrist to move hair away from her face.  

“I’m sorry,” she apologised, tilting her head at him. He just rolled his eyes at her, then he stared at his lawn, and ran his hand down his face. “Did I do somethin’ else to piss you off?” She asked, looking around to see if there’s anything else she may have forgotten.

“One, your cat’s too damn loud, crying and meowing for my damn dog when you let him out,” he started, which made her blink in confusion. She didn’t expect something like that to get on his nerves. “And B, why the hell do you have cameras facing my place?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, her ego being injured fueled her anger and defensiveness. “Okay, listen, Doctor Who, I said I was sorry, okay?” She could tell her words stunned him by the furrowing of his brows in bewilderment, disarming him and shutting him up. “It’s not my fault your dog likes my cat, too. And the cameras are off, they’re there to scare people, so fuck off,” she snapped before she stop herself. 

Dean scoffed at her, “fuck you.” She rolled her eyes at him this time, staring daggers into his back when he turned around to get to his home.

“If you’d fuck me, maybe you wouldnt be such an asshole.” Her snide words made him freeze. He laughed dryly and he turned to face her once more, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Pretty sure I’d still hate you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, crossing his own arms. That stung, even if she didn’t know him personally and half the time she spent romanticising him based on the little bit of information she had. “And I’d rather go fuck some other chick.” She clenched her jaw and breathed in slowly, angry heat began rising up her neck the faster her heart started to beat.

Entirely unintended, she venomously spat, “according to your brother, you haven’t been lucky enough, and you’re not going to be.”

“You talking to my brother about my sex life?” He stepped closer to her, his nostril flaring in anger. Betrayal and hurt crossed his features and she realised her mistake.

“No, just overheard him ‘cause you’re an overbearing douchebag,” she lied smoothly. Truth was, Sam and Eileen did accidentally—drunkenly—tell her how hard it was for Dean to maintain a serious relationship for more than three months. They don’t remember sharing that information. It was easy for her to casually ask about Dean’s love life and availability, masking her attraction to Dean as mere surprise as to how the younger brother got married before the older one. “Makes sense now why no one will sleep with you,” she laughed mockingly, stepping closer to him defiantly.

His face was red now, too. Angry, offended, he rolled his eyes at her smug face and body language. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Sure, yeah, if that makes you feel better,” she snorted, patting his very nice, broad shoulder with her muddy hand as she made her back into her house. Preoccupied by the small mud-print on his beige Henley, he couldn’t get the last word in or stop her from leaving him flustered in her swampy driveway.

That was the start of a horrible relationship with her neighbour. The neighbour she had a crush on. 

He found all kinds of reasons to complain. Big and small. And she secretly did things to piss him off, occasionally sabotaging his plans. 

The thing was that deep down, she still liked him, but he made her so angry and frustrated. And it felt good to see him angry and frustrated by things she caused either on purpose or accidentally. Any attention was better than no attention.

Eventually, that all changed. The fun, the it’s-better-than-nothing feeling, it didn’t last. Fourteen months later, she stopped the cruel games and decided to avoid him completely. 

When her friends offered to take her out, she agreed, even if she wanted to stay home. If Dean was home, she made sure to never say no to them, and sometimes she’d offer to take them out. Wherever.

She’d started to grade at the cafe, library, or the diner, even if Dean went to all those places often. At least he wouldn’t say anything there around all those people. 

When she grew closer to Sam, Cas, and Jack, she’d find excuses not to go over to Dean’s when they offered either food, game nights, movie nights, or random hangouts. They started to notice too—the tension, the avoidance, the hostility—and they’d go over to her place instead, often without Dean, who’d choose to go out to avoid staying home alone.

It was awful. The rejection started to hurt, yet, he had her heart in the palm of his hand. Deep down, she knew that Dean wasn’t a bad person; he just didn’t like her.

Eventually, Dean ended his animosity, too, and everything went back to ‘normal’. She slowly started to reject offers from her friends to test the water, stayed home to grade, and didn't permit her cat to leave even if it cried for an escape. If she took him out, it was with a leash she eventually got him to get used to.

They ignored each other when they crossed paths—in the driveway, at the grocery store, at diners, at the cafe. They acted like complete strangers. She’d keep her curtains closed, at least she did for the windows that face his house. She made her presence as unnoticeable and as invisible as she could to prevent causing more damage to each other.

Then, about two months ago, on Halloween, Sam, Eileen, Cas, and Jack went to her house to collect candy. Sam made a point of staying back while the rest of them walked to where Dean was waiting—looking anywhere but at her house—to convince her to go to his and Eileen’s place for Thanksgiving. 

He was honest, cute, wide hazel eyes attempting to convince her to try and make amends with Dean. She didn’t doubt it, when he told her that Dean felt guilty, but her pride was bruised, and her heart was broken. She told Sam she would be visiting her own family for that holiday. She omitted that she’d be going to her mother’s house a few miles away, still in Lebanon. And she easily convinced her mother to let her stay the rest of the week until she had to go back to work.

Now, Christmas was near—in four days, to be exact. It wasn’t the holiday spirit that made her change her mind, it was the hurt and the exhaustion of planning her life around avoiding Dean. 

So, she called Sam, she asked if he could do anything to get Dean alone tomorrow. 

For the rest of the day, she would start to prepare everything—even though it was Dean who created the mess—she was willing to make the first move and hopefully meet him halfway. 

She couldn’t lie that she felt embarrassed by how excited she was to see Dean. She couldn't even differentiate the meaning of the butterflies in her stomach, but she powered through her fluttering heart and her shaking hands as she prepared everything before going to see him.

She considered not doing it at all, calling it quits—but the consequences of that quickly made her miserable. That would just mean more avoidance, more hiding, more changing everything about herself to make him happy.

All of this over one little misunderstanding. One bad day where her mouth ran without consulting her brain first ruined what could have otherwise been a good friendship—perhaps even a romantic relationship.

She was twenty-six and just like Dean, she hadn’t had a serious relationship since… Well, ever. The last time someone convinced her to date them was in highschool, and even before that, it took her a month—or less—to figure out she wanted nothing to do with them. She didn’t like the people she dated. She realised quickly that she didn’t even want a future with them, she didn’t even allow them to kiss her or touch her. So she figured that if she didn’t want to marry them, what was the point of wasting her time?

For so long, the first thing she thought of when she felt attracted to someone was: can I stand the thought of their touch? Can I see myself kissing them, letting them kiss me? Can I stand the thought of the fights and staying with them through thick and thin? Can I picture myself with them in the future, permanently?

The answer was always ‘no’ and the attraction died immediately after the realisation. 

With Dean, the answer was different. Not for some stupid reason, like fate, or the boy-next-door trope. No. This was reality, and the real reason was the fact that she got to see who he was before she was attracted to him. 

It was the selflessness, the love in everything that he did, the gentleness of his heart, the kindness that radiated from him, and the ease in the way he did chores, the way he made his friends laugh, his playfulness, the loyalty, the way he was clearly protective. 

It was the open windows of her house into his open windows that let her see through him, down to his very beautiful core. It was the lack of hidden things, the openness of his soul because he felt safe, unwatched. It was real because Cas, Jack, and Sam were proof that even though Dean wasn’t perfect, he was worth it.

The Doctor did say once: the good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant. 

For the first time, she was willing to take a chance.

She smoothed down the silky emerald-green dress. It was pretty, flowing down her body perfectly, stopping at the middle of her calves…. Actually, now that she looked at herself in the mirror, her curls perfectly maintained, the light touch of makeup, the heels… was it too much?

She ignored those anxious thoughts and made sure she had everything she needed and everything that she prepared before stepping out into the cold.

The spaghetti straps didn’t stop the cold, but the heat of her nervousness at least did something as she walked up to his door and waited after knocking gently. 

When he opened the door, he was stunned to see her.

“What?” He asked bluntly. 

She could tell that the way she was dressed caught him off guard. His eyes moved from her face, up to her hair, back down to the boxes in her hands, and lower to her feet. 

“I’ve got pie,” she said the first thing her mind thought of. Yes, it was blunt, yes, it disarmed him further… It was not smooth, but Dean looked behind him, and then he looked at her once more while biting his lip before opening the door wider, and stepping out of the way for her to enter. 

She exhaled shakily as he scratched the back of his neck. Out of habit, she slipped out of her heels before stepping inside his home, planting her bare feet on the soft, long rug he had. He kindly, wordlessly, took her heels from outside and placed them on the shoe rack he had inside before shutting the door behind her.

She felt so… warm. Finally, she was inside the place she longed to be in. Right where Dean was. Along the walls there were dozens of pictures, but she didn’t go too far, she waited for him.

She felt his presence behind her and it made her shiver, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him. Instead, she stared at photos of him with Cas, Sam, Jack, and other people she hadn’t met. Women and Men. Dean was smiling in all of them. And in a large majority of them, they were looking at him while he looked at the camera. 

What a funny thing. 

“Here,” he said from behind her, his deep voice sounded soft, gentle, unlike the last time they spoke to each other. It made her shudder. “Let me help.” She slowly braced herself when she turned around, staring into his beautiful green eyes, illuminated magically by Christmas lights. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, carefully loosening her grip on the objects in her hand for him to take what he wanted—which was everything. 

She stepped to the side when he murmured, “no problem,” and started to walk off to the kitchen. She followed him slowly, took a look around, respectfully, curiously, just when she heard the clicking of nails and the thump of paws on wooden floors, and the bark of his dog headed in their direction. 

“Miracle,” Dean grunted, setting everything down on the table, “not inside.” While the fluffy dog did stop its excited running, his enthusiasm was not lost as he wagged his tail, and playfully got down on his stomach in front of her feet. Still on his belly, Miracle approached Y/n slowly, paws and tongue at her toes, as if testing the waters. 

“Hey,” she greeted softly as she squatted slowly and laughed quietly, gently scratching Miracle’s head as he nudged her hand with his wet nose, staring up at her with adorably wide eyes—much like Sam did. “You’re so cute,” she cooed, her heart warming up when Miracle barked quietly.

He then jumped up and turned towards Dean, who was watching them—perplexed, happy, conflicted. 

“You were asleep,” Dean scolded, but sweetly took Miracle’s head in his hands and kissed him between his ears. Miracle whined and stepped away, sitting in front of Dean as if saying ‘I’ll be good if you let me stay’. “Whatever,” Dean groaned with a smile, which made Miracle happy, because he laid his cheek on his paw and stared up at Dean, resting.

Now, it was awkward. 

Dean caught her staring at him, her expression inquisitive. She cleared her throat awkwardly, but she couldn’t form words. She only now noticed that he was wearing a faded black shirt and hotdog pyjama pants. 

“So…” Dean began instead, “pie.” It wasn’t any better, but it’s as she always said: it was better than nothing. 

“Yes,” she confirmed, “strawberry… you weren’t getting ready for bed…?” She inquired, tipping her chin in the direction of his attire. 

“Not to sleep,” he reassured her, taking a few steps toward the cupboards to pull out two plates, glass cups, and then some utensils from the lower drawer. “Why are you doing this?” Dean asked quietly from where he was across the kitchen, everything still in his hands.

“I deserve better that’s why,” she snapped. He blinked at her, guilty, but she paused and took a deeper breath. Careful to not smear her eyeliner, she rubbed her temples instead. She reached behind her to wrap her ankle around the leg of a chair to pull it out and sit down. “Sorry, I don’t like… being angry,” she breathed out, looking out his kitchen window into her dark living room. She switched the Christmas lights off. “It's very stressful because I…” She turned to look at him and forgot her words as he came closer. 

He looked cuter in person and prettier, still. Three years and nothing has changed, he still had her heart right in his hand. 

“Why?” He pressed, placing everything down on the table in front of her. Looking up at him felt intimidating, so she averted her gaze. He was much older than she was… it made her… feel dumb. See-through. Like he could figure her out in seconds. 

“Because I’m friends with your friends,” she admitted without looking at him, then she reached out to arrange the plates, cups, and utensils. He sat down thoughtfully, and watched her unstack the small boxes she brought over. 

“You’re doing this for them,” he laid out flatly, but he took a seat next to her and stared at her. His eyes on her made her self-conscious, flustered. She bet he could see everything, all the ugly and the weird in her.

“I’m doing this for me,” she corrected him gently, “I just want to be happy,” she sighed, removing the plastic wrap she placed over the pie she baked. “Is that selfish?” She wondered out loud, taking the knife, she stared at it. 

“No,” Dean sighed, wrapping his hand around hers to take the knife. She inhaled sharply at the warmth of his touch, his calloused palms brushing against the back of her hand, sending warmth over her chest, pressing into her wrist with her heart excitedly pounding against her ribs.

She released the knife into his hold, trying to hide how much he affected her, but she doubted she could fully do that with the Christmas lights exposing the blush she could feel on her face. She could feel her veins pumping blood faster, caught up with the heavy beating of her heart. If he looked down at her neck, he could probably see it in her veins.

She looked away, down at Miracle who was still peacefully laying on his belly, and Dean looked away towards the beautiful pie to start slicing into it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, taking her plate to give her the first slice. She looked up at Dean, taking the plate with a generous slice of strawberry pie. 

“I wanted to be the first to say it…” She complained playfully, trying to maintain eye contact with him, but his beauty was intimidating, forcing her to look away, “soon as my ego stopped being sensitive,” she added. 

Dean laughed softly, placing his own slice on his plate. The sound of his laugh made her smile, her stomach flipped with elation, at the crinkles by his eyes. Her breathy exhale made him look at her.

“Well, I’m forty-four, my ego’s been bruised enough times,” he told her, “I don’t care much for it when…” he trailed off and chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. She bit her lip, too, trying not to stare too long at his pretty mouth. 

“Well, thanks,” she murmured, her jaw twitching as she looked away from him. 

“I’d consider all this an apology,” he told her, gazing at her as she opened two rectangular boxes. She smiled, shaking her head. She pulled out a bottle of homemade eggnog along with a decorated jar filled with white frosting, and a small container with crushed peppermint candy. “This isn’t… poisoned, right?” He teased, still watching her while she opened the bottle of rum eggnog, she tilted her head at him, amused. “Just making sure… you did make all this…” he trailed off, impressed.

“Taste the pie,” she encouraged as she started making the drinks.

“You’re just trying to shut me up,” he chuckled gruffly, but he picked up his fork and started to dig in. The strawberry filling barely touched his tongue when he moaned, she watched him not even begin to chew. His brows furrowed and he closed his eyes, savouring the pie. 

It made her blush, but she focused on covering the rim of the cups he brought with the whiskey frosting she made and the peppermint candy shavings before filling it with eggnog.

“You made the frosting, too?” He asked, tipping his head towards the jar. His mouth was full, some strawberry filling dripped down the corner of his mouth, but he picked it up with his tongue. She licked her lips, trying to stop herself from breathing airily, and passed him the eggnog with a nod and slid the jar of frosting towards him to serve herself some eggnog. 

Dean dipped his finger into the frosting, collecting a large amount before wrapping his lips around his finger to suck the frosting off. She forced herself to look away from how hot he looked and ate her own slice of pie instead.

“I’ve seriously been missing out,” he murmured regretfully. “I was real childish,” he told her, “I never should’ve gotten pissed over… everything-”

“Dean,” she interrupted him, giving him a sheepish smile, “you already apologised and I forgive you. Besides, I did things, too.. on purpose… so, I’m sorry.” She pursed her lips and took a sip from her eggnog, swiping her tongue along the sweet frosting.

“You did things on purpose?” He repeated, a smirk on his face. She breathed out a laugh and nodded bashfully. “Why?” he wondered, leaning into her curiously, subtly moving his plate of food towards her. She considered being blunt, but she chose to test him instead.

“Probably the same reason you got pissed at everything I did and didn’t do,” she laughed, pulling a piece of strawberry out of the pie to put it in her mouth.

“I doubt that,” Dean muttered, picking up his own drink, and taking a large gulp. She eyed him closely, her eyes becoming hooded when he licked across his lips after drinking to collect the thin layer of sweetened alcohol on his mouth. 

“What was your reason then?” She wondered flirtatiously, her voice low and seductive. She pushed her plate away with her arm., and mimicked his body language, scooting forward in the chair. 

She watched as his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his fork before he dropped it. She’d never quite been stared at that way before, but it suddenly—almost, made her laugh. Her legs felt weak, her stomach heavy, almost fooling her into thinking she couldn’t get up, but she did.

With a rapid heart and shaky knees, she pushed her chair back, and Miracle lifted his head in alarm. Dean leaned back in his chair, sliding his palms up his thighs, and watched hungrily as she lifted her dress up her legs, squeezing in front of him and part of the table to sit on his lap. 

“Seems like we’ve both been missing out on a lot of stuff,” she whispered, her stomach fluttering for a variety of reasons, but mostly from excitement. He bit his lip, eyes twinkling as he placed his hands slowly on her thighs. She sank her teeth down on her lip, too, breathing heavily when his hands began sliding up her thighs, lifting her dress higher, and higher.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, continuing to move her dress up until his hands were wrapped around her hips where he could realise she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “I thought I should tell you, before I ruin you,” he rasped, tightening his hold on her hips.

“Fuck,” she moaned, moving forward in his lap until their hips were pressed together. She brought her hands into his hair, and pulled it gently, bringing her mouth close to his, but she never kissed him. She breathed against his lips and when he leaned forward to kiss her, she pulled back teasingly.

“You’re seriously gonna make me wait?” He whispered, slowly rolling his hips up into her, his hard cock pressing into her wet core. She gasped softly against his mouth and laughed breathlessly.

“You feel good,” she praised, flushing as she ground against him harder.

“I’d feel better inside you,” he smirked, sliding one of his hands farther up her dress, his warm palm flattening up her stomach reverently, stopping beneath her breasts..

“I bet,” she moaned, arching into his touch before finally pressing her tinted lips against his. Dean moaned softly against her mouth, pressing against her hungrily, then lifted her up, carefully moving his plate and cup aside to lay her down on the table. 

“Miracle, bed,” Dean ordered when he pulled away from her lips. The dog obediently stood up and excitedly made his way to where Dean’s room was. Dean kissed her once more, drawing her attention away from Miracle and back to him.

She’d never been kissed the way Dean kissed her or touched the way Dean touched her. His hands were everywhere, testing, learning, skillful. He scratched her skin sending sparks down to her already soaked core, kneading her body roughly until she moaned against his mouth. He squeezed her and made her wet. He dug his blunt nails into her and made her nerves ignite. His hands smoothed across her, sailing over her body like she were an ocean and he was a sailor. 

He was desperate, devouring her mouth with his tongue and his teeth, putting his all into the kiss, licking her lips, teasing the inside of her mouth, brushing against her warm tongue. He yearned to memorise the taste of her mouth, to feel close to her, pressing and moaning against her the way he’d done when he ate the pie and frosting. He nibbled on her lips, tugging, biting, claiming, taking the air from her lungs and pulling away at the perfect time. 

He rolled his hips into her frantically and finally started to move away from her now-swollen lips, the colour of her raspberry tint robbed and replaced by the redness of his kiss. 

He dragged his teeth teasingly along her jaw and licked his way down her neck, pressing his stubbled face into her neck, kissing and sucking softly, searching. She rolled her head to the side, giving him all the access he needed, until finally, she moaned loudly when he sucked into her sweetspot. He smiled against her throat, feeling her take handfuls of his shirt, her hips wiggling impatiently beneath him.

He kissed lower still, then back up to the other side of her neck, and bit her collarbones, kissing every inch of her skin, her shoulders and her sternum. She loved every second of it and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, touching and scratching his skin, pulling him closer as he bucked into her bare core.

“Did you know your shirt was see-through when we first met?” He whispered into her cleavage. She laughed and replied with a breathless ‘no’. “Well.. your tits on display, legs bare in those tiny shorts, all pissed as hell… it was hot,” he chuckled, lowering the thin straps of her dress until the top started to reveal her breasts. 

“Is that why you jerked off that night?” She asked, gripping his hair and tugging hard. He grunted and laughed, staring into her lustful eyes.

“You saw?” He teased, bringing his hand to her breast, squeezing roughly. “The answer’s yes.. And everytime after that, it was also ‘cause of you,” Dean confessed, “couldn’t stop thinking about you, every day and every night. I thought I hated you, but I guess I just needed to fuck you.” 

She chuckled, gripping the hem of his shirt, dragging it up his body as he latched onto her nipple. She hummed softly, tugging hard at his hair, in complete bliss as he wrapped his mouth around the bud, licking, sucking, and biting until she whimpered for him to give her more—which was impossible. He moved onto her other breast, savouring her warm skin with his hotter mouth, tugging her neglected nipple with his fingers, twisting and pinching. 

“Please,” she moaned, yanking his hair so he’d pull away. Dean growled against her flesh and bit down hard on her breast, before pulling away, drawing a mewl from her of his name. 

“You could be nicer,” he muttered, allowing her to lift his shirt up off his body, but he continued to kiss her breasts, sucking gently around the flesh to leave red marks. He lifted her feet up on the table and pressed her thighs close to her chest, opening her up to admire her soaked sex.

“We’re long past nice, pretty boy,” she teased blushing and biting her lip when he stood up straight. She didn’t look at him, too insecure to watch him as he brought his hand to the inside of her thighs, teasing her vulva.

“You think I’m pretty?” He grinned, circling her entrance, moaning at copious amounts of arousal on his fingers. “So wet… you that needy for my cock inside you?” He asked smugly. 

She looked at him now, heat flooding up her face at his obscene words. Before she could say anything about it, the tattoo on his chest drew her attention away from the adorable pride on his face.

“You’re a hunter,” she stated, stunned, blinking at him with a smile. He looked down at himself then at her, speechless. She lifted her hips and hitched her dress up higher to reveal her ribcage where she had the same tattoo, twice as small.

“You’re a professor,” he remarked with arousal on his face, pushing his finger into her. He lowered himself down her body and wrapped his arm around her legs, holding her open as he breathed warmly against her wet cunt.

Before she could close her legs to him demurely, Dean dove in, his mouth hot on her pussy. He ate her out the same way he kissed her, teeth making her whimper, his tongue parting and tasting, picking up the flavour of her wetness as she moaned. 

He salivated on her, humming in satisfaction while he sucked her clit into his mouth while he fingered her. Her hands found his hair once more, pulling hard and almost painfully, but his cock jumped each time inside the thin material of his pyjamas. Dean added a second finger as he moaned against her swollen clit, knuckles deep, pressing against the front of her textured walls, drawing silent moans from her, making her squirm more and more. 

“Fuck,” she panted, “you’re so good,” she praised, flexing her hand above his head before gripping at the honey strands. He slurped lewdly, devouring her pussy, squeezing her hips desperately holding her close to his face while she pushed him harder against her cunt. “Dean… I’m close,” she moaned, closing her legs around his head. 

He moaned again, adding another finger, shoving deep as he circled her swollen clit with his tongue, drawing figures on her clit possessively. She gasped loudly and cried out his name, tensing up when she orgasmed, her walls clamping down on his three fingers. The rapture of her orgasm seemed endless as he continued to tongue at her clit, it made her writhe uncontrollably, and he smirked against her pussy.

Her whiny laugh and the way she squeezed his head to stop him made him chuckle, and he tapped her thigh once he pulled his fingers from within her pulsing walls. She released him, melting into the table while he licked his fingers clean of her release.

“You taste good,” he told her earnestly, “so fucking good.” She bit her lip, giving him a look of disbelief. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning down to lick a long stripe up her pussy, then down, pushing his tongue past her clenching, wet hole. 

“Dean, fucking…” she moaned, “oh, God, why does that feel good?” She snickered, then he pulled away hovering above her. She opened her eyes to his smug face, his clean fingers squeezed her cheeks roughly until she opened her mouth. She furrowed her brows, whining out with her hands around his wrist so he’d release, but she shut up when he spit in her mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he ordered, licking his lips. Her pupils dilated as she looked into his eyes, the tangy taste of herself made her mouth water and she swallowed. “D’you know how hot you are?” He asked rhetorically, kissing her roughly once more, ravenous and stopped only when he felt her hands pushing his pants down his legs.

“I want you, Dean,” she whispered against his mouth, biting his lip before returning the passion of his kiss.

“Where?” He asked teasingly, wrapping his arm around her waist, he sat her up on the table and gently held her face in his hands, before releasing her to strip completely. 

“I want you inside me,” she told him coquettishly, hopping off the table to slowly let her dress pool around her feet. “I want to ride you, to feel you stretch me open…” she walked towards him, watching him completely aroused, a look of pleasant surprise on his face, “I want you to fill me up, and make me cum on your cock…” she licked her lips, staring down at his cock, erect and leaking precum. “... I’ve never seen a dick this nice,” she told him, wrapping her hand around the base and stepping closer to him.

He grunted, “suck it then.” She laughed through her nose, releasing his cock to fondle his balls. He moaned, stumbling slightly.  “I’ve been wanting to shut you up with my cock in your mouth,” he told her, a smirk on his face, “now, I’m just thinking how pretty you’ll look with your lips wrapped around me.” Dean reached up and curled his fingers around the back of her neck. 

She looked behind him, removed her hand, and tipped her head to the chair, “sit.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned, kicking the chair towards him like she had earlier, then he sat, legs wide and tempting. “You’re sexier than you were in my imagination,” he told her, watching her get down between his legs, kissing his thighs while looking up at him through her curled lashes. 

“Keep talkin’,” she grinned up at him, taking his heavy cock in her hand once more. Dean gave her a sexy look, smug and aroused.

“I wanna finish in your mouth,” he told her, “want to see you swallow my load.” Pleased, she moved forward and began kissing and licking the length of his cock, teasingly and experimentally feeling the velvety, veiny texture against her hand, tongue, and lips. “I want to hear you choke on my cock, and see what you look like with tears in your eyes as I fuck your pretty face.” She moaned softly, intrigued by the description of his fantasy. 

She dipped her tongue into the slit, moaning at the taste of his precum, drooling over the soft head of his cock before sucking him into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he moaned, tangling his fingers in her hair. She slowly took him deeper, pulling him out of her hot mouth teasingly, then swallowing inch by inch of his hard cock. “You’re so good at that, baby,” he panted, letting her take her time at her own pace, but he gripped her hair tightly. “Don’t stop,” he moaned, staring into her eyes as she continued to take his cock, bobbing her head, not stopping until he hit the back of her throat. She swallowed around him, and he bucked his hips up, releasing a whispered curse, attempting to keep his eyes open to watch her suck him off.

She got comfortable between his legs, taking his freehand to put it in her hair. He took her hair, put it together, and waited for her permission before slowly lifting his hips, pushing his cock slowly into her throat. When she gagged, he slowly pulled back, then pushed back into her, lips parted, releasing quick breaths. 

Eventually, he started to fuck her face in earnest, lifting his hip up off the chair, pulling her hair hard to guide her on and off his dick. Her spit dribbled down her chin in a mixture of his precum. She swallowed as much as she could, moaning and blinking tears that tickled her eyes and her jaw. 

“You look so fucking…” he chocked on a moan, “so damn sexy.” 

She ignored the soreness of her jaw, relaxing it as best as she could as he fucked her near mercilessly. Her pussy throbbed with every sound of his pleasure, clit aching for attention at the way he gazed down at her with burning desire, but she refused to touch herself, enjoying the build-up, the desperation for another orgasm, for his touch. 

He throbbed in her mouth, turning to mush beneath her mouth. He even began to whimper and moan her name, praises and dirty words becoming scarce in attempts to hold back his orgasm, edging himself with her mouth. It didn’t take long for him to hold her with her nose against his pelvis breathlessly. 

He pulled her off his cock, and released her hair to wipe tears tenderly from her hot cheeks with his thumbs, trying to get his mind off the near-pleasure of her mouth around his cock while catching his breath. 

“Yummy,” she rasped, pulling a breathless laugh from him. She wiped her chin with her shoulder and smiled up at him, slowly getting up on her knees to get rid of the ache of sitting on her legs.

She got up, leaning back against the table, admiring him in his red, flushed, somewhat sweaty state. His hair was a mess from her hands and he had a blush around his neck to his ears. She knew the hardness of his body accounted for the fact that he was a hunter, as well as the scars she felt beneath her soft hands, bite marks, bullet wounds, and healed slashes.

“Come closer,” she told him and he laughed, bringing himself and the chair closer, stopping when she sat on his thighs, fixing herself over his strong thighs. “Gonna cum if I tease you?” She asked, tapping the head of his cock. It twitched instantly and he moaned.

“Depends,” he replied breathily, sliding his hands up her body. She hummed softly, spreading her legs, positioning his cock near her soppy folds.

“On what?” She cackled playfully, parting her folds with one hand, circling her clit with her fingers. He watched her lustfully, the wetness that made her pussy shine coated her fingers.

“How wet and warm you feel on my cock,” he replied truthfully. He grabbed her hand and moved it out of the way anyway, taking his cock to push it between her folds, pressing the tip against her clit. 

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned softly, grasping his shoulders, “you feel… I need you,” she whimpered, rolling her hips along the length of his cock. He moaned with her, moving her hips closer to him, her wetness coating his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart…” Dean moaned, watching her lean back against the table, positioning the soft head of his cock to her entrance. Completely enthralled, he watched himself slip inside her, and she watched him, biting her lip hard in concentration, the stretch of her walls around him almost painful. “Fuck… I can feel how bad you need me… I need you just as bad,” he panted, flexing his hands on her thighs, desperately trying not to thrust up into her warmth. He dug his nails into her flesh, his head tipping back, his hips rolling up.

“Dean,” she moaned again, starting to lift herself up and down his cock, reaching up to cup her breast. “Shit, you feel amazing,” she breathed out, grinding her hips against his until he was fully inside her. 

“You okay?” He asked, one of hands drifting up to knead her breast comfortingly. She nodded, buried her fingers in his hair and brought him in for a kiss as she bent her knees, and tucked her feet in between his thighs.

“I could cum like this,” she mumbled against his lips. His chuckle rumbled through his chest and he shook his head, her pussy clenched at the sound and she started to lift herself up again.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, sucking on his lip momentarily. “I’ll make you cum so hard…” He paused to moan, thrusting up into her slowly, meeting her hip. “...you’ll never want to fuck anyone else,” he promised her, building up the pace of his thrusts until she stopped moving with him altogether, letting him fuck up into her needy cunt. 

“You’ll only wanna be fucked by me,” he continued, watching her lean back with her elbow on the table, her hands roaming his warm body, “and I’ll be there, ready to fuck you hard.” He looked over her shoulder, at the jar of frosting. “Pounding into your sweet cunt,” he swore breathlessly, reaching behind her, dipping his fingers to gather frosting, “makin’ you beg, makin’ you impossibly wet.” He smeared frosting over her nipples, over her collarbone, her sternum, until he had no more while she moaned his name needily. 

“Makin’ you feel things you’ve never felt before.” He gripped her hip with frosting-coated fingers, leaning forward to lick and suck the whiskey frosting from her body. “I’ll fill you up as many times as you want,” he vowed, smoothing her hand up her back, into her hair once more, pulling until she whined his name. “I’ll fuck you wherever you want.”

Her pussy continued to gush over Dean’s cock the more he talked—his breathless, husky voice taking her over the edge. Each rough pull of her hair made her mewl and whimper as she rolled her hips desperately against his. 

“Dean, please,” she whispered, scratching down his back, digging marks into his skin the harder and faster he thrusted into her. Loud skin slapping, the wet sound of her pussy being penetrated, with every push of his cock in and out of her, squelching and driving her crazy. She dug her nails into her palm, making obscene sounds that made her self-conscious.

“I’ll fuck you all over your house, all over mine.” Another moan of his name, another rough pull of her hair. “I’ll fuck you in my car, in your car, anywhere and all over town.” He pulled away from her sticky chest, licked his lips at the sight of her, so she screwed her eyes shut. She felt a warm pool of wetness on her pelvic bone, opened her eyes to him spitting between their bodies, watching his saliva drip down her folds to her clit. 

She’d never heard of or experienced sex quite this raw and dirty.

“I’ll make you scream my name, make you forget how to talk, how to walk…” She leaned back into him, panting into his ear, keeping him close while rubbing her clit. He yanked her hair, forcing her to look at him. 

“Dean…”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, closing his eyes, he breathed against her lips, “and I want you forever.”

As he promised, she cried out his name when she came, squeezing his cock hard, coating him in her release. He grunted her name, cursing loudly as he came inside her, his hot seed spurting into her, filling her as he said he would. 

He circled his arms around her as she writhed once more, releasing her hair as she put her arms around his neck, panting and catching her breath until the pleasure subsided.

“I want all of that,” she murmured after a few moments of silence, kissing his cheek. He squeezed her and moved back, bewildered. He moved hair from her face and tilted his head at her, drawn to her nakedness, her flushed beauty. “First, I want to shower…” Slowly, carefully, she climbed off his lap, her legs shaky, her pussy releasing the mixture of their pleasure. 

“That’s a good start,” he told her softly. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled when he stood up from the chair and looked around at the mess in the kitchen. “No one’s coming home anytime soon… thanks to Sammy…” Dean trailed off, smoothing his hand over his head to fix his hair.

“Thanks to me,” she came clean with a shy smile, bringing his gaze up to hers. His eyes twinkled and he laughed loudly, tugging her towards him again by her arm, his lips pressing against hers.

➥ sempiternal

taglist

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[thatcharmingjerk]

15 questions/15 people

got tagged by @angry-velociraptor , cheers!! I love these things! :D I’m just horrible at remembering to actually do them!! x’’’’3 

1. are you named after anyone?

HMM I guess?? Like my given name was after a granma of mom or something I think but my real (second) name is after dads dad! 

2. when was the last time you cried?

I really can’t say???? I don’t really cry because of sadness these days but i do tear up because of dumbest shit!!! Its wild how easily I can get happy/emotional tears!!!

3. do you have kids?

oHOHHAHAHAAAHA nope. No thank you. At least I have that going on for me for being trans!!!

4. do you use sarcasm a lot?

I don’t know ;;w;; Sometimes yes but I think people sometimes depict stuff I just say as sarcasm idk!!!! I used to be sarcastic me thinks?? These days not that much tho??

5. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

HMMM like- the aura??? The presence??? Style, what you’re wearing, what accesories there is, piercings, tattoos, or lack of them! Height too, kinda at least like I just noticed last time I met a friend how short she is????? And I’ve known her for like 5 years!!?!?!?!? I’m also very bad with faces! 

6. what’s your eye color?

Greyish blue! 

7. scary movie or happy endings?

As a greedy bisexual; BOTH!!!! Seriously tho both have their charm, and they don’t really even exclude each other. I don’t really have preference for either, if the movie is good then its good!!!

8. any special talents?

Well, art?? And I can move my ears at will!! 

9. where were you born?

In hopsital öhöhöhhehehvfgdjfs but yea Finland

10. what are your hobbies?

Arts and crafts, as you can guess, drawing/painting/sculpting/needle felting, but I hike/take walks with the dogy, I love watching birds and other creatures and nature in general on walks..! Moss is life!!! I keep plants and aquarium, i’d love to get second tank only for shrimps!! And paleontology and mythology nerding, i do play them cursed videogames bit too, oh yeah I read too, like actual books of paper!! Tryna teach myself to read more again!! That’s some of it! 

11. do you have any pets?

Dogy and fish!! Aamu the dog and Peetu the kala!!! also shrimps! 

12. what sports do you play/have you played?

Not really anything?? Haha, like I used to really like football and uhh salibandy?? sähly??? as kid (idk floor ball??? ground hickey!?!?!?) and participated on class teams (badly cause I was astmathic fat kid) for those and also randomly in basket ball too??  I wasn’t really athletic but I wish I had been!! I did some horse riding too, nothing proper though cause we were poor but yeahh..! 

13. how tall are you?

166cm, i’mma short king ! 

14. favorite subject in school?

As kid I liked almost everything, I used to love math, but hmm, lets say art and biology!! 

15. dream job?

Oughhhhh idk............. Part time something???? I wish I could do more ceramics?? But idk, maybe concept artist or character designer?? Maybe paleoartist??? idk, tbh I been thinking about applying for retirement and just do whatever dabbling |’’’3 I think I really need to get my mental health in order properly before I can really think career??? I really wish I had some sorta handler or secretary or manager anyways !!!!!! Oh right if i didn’t have allergies I’d probably be some sorta animal dude, like horse trainer or something!! 

tagging: HMM LETS SEE @lil-bear-femme @kuoringankalmo @theonlygayinoulu @niborniac @chundertale 

[anachronisticcrab]

Nico di Angelo Headcanons

It’s Nico’s birthday! So here are some Headcanons about him

* He wears dresses cause they’re pretty and make his aesthetic pop even more

* He’s royalty. I think his grandma was related to the Savoia’s (Italian royal family) so he grew up royal and shit

* He’s Rromani

* He’s a classics nerd, especially with literature and art

* ARTIST NICO RIGHTS

* He has a huge family after the Giants War, most of them adopted. Reyna, Meg, Rachel, Annabeth, Percy, Jason, Piper, Castor, Mr. D, Hazel, Frank, Leo, Gwen, Will, Austin, Kayla, Chiron, Hestia, Bob, Damasen, Hades, Persephone, Zagreus, Mesperian, Melinoe, Hermes, Castor, Apollo/Lester, Thalia, the troglodytes, Estelle, Sally, Paul, Drew, Mitchell, Clarisse, etc.

* They have the most comfortable bed in the WORLD. Whenever his family can’t sleep, they go to the Hades cabin and they send good dreams their way and chill out on one of the huge comfy beds

* He stress cooks

* All he wants for gifts is more family

* He’s literally a nonna ngl

* He hates IKEA. He calls it the Swedish Mafia and glares whenever someone gets anything IKEA related

* He’s gone vegetarian cause meat just tastes like death to him (not my hc but I’m not sure who originally came up with it, if you know pls tell me)

* He drinks his weight in coffee every day. He’s a caffeine addict

* He’s nonbinary cause duh

* He’s ace cause everyone is

* He hates horror movies. They remind him of Tartarus and he gets rlly bad flashbacks from them, so he doesn’t watch them

* Toasters make him jump. The amount of times he’s stabbed a toaster cause it went off and spooked him is amazing

* He loves Marvel and DC

* He’s amazing at poker

* He wears crowns all the time cuz he’s ROYAL

* He has a shockingly deep voice. No one expects it from him cause he’s short and skinny and looks like he should have a voice like a little flute, but his voice is super deep. It’s one of the reasons ppl are kinda uneasy around him

* He still wants to be a pirate and had a blast on the Argo 2. It was his childhood dream come true— demigods and pirates

* Nico talks with his hands all the time (click here to see my bigger post about it)

* He loves his sisters more than anything cause he’s Italian at heart. Rachel, Drew, Meg, Hazel, Reyna, Estelle and Annabeth are the luckiest people out there

* Contrary to popular belief, Nico is more interested in a career in medicine than Will. Will has a lot of trauma from being a combat medic for years, while Nico wants to learn more about biology and medicine cause it’s come a long way since he was a kid. Will ends up becoming a guidance counsellor

* As I said, Nico’s more likely to do something in medicine, but he doesn’t. He gets a degree in art history and ends up as a museum curator

* Nico has hundreds of books on his shelves and there’s sticky notes with writing on all of them. Little notes, observations, connections, ideas of what something could mean in a deeper way, notes about how Character A was 100% queer and in a loving relationship with characters B and C

* He can’t stand country music. There are a total of two good country songs and he hates the rest of them

* Other than that he listens to pretty much any music. His favourite band is the Ramones cause it’s canon and they’re amazing

* His favourite song is actually My Heart is Buries in Venice tho, not smth by the Ramones

* He’s shockingly good with kids. He’s very entertaining for them to hang out with, he listens to them rant, he plays games with them. Nico’s just great with kids and everyone at CHB loves him

* There is a total of three (3) animals that Nico can stand. They are cats, dogs, and snakes. Anything else and he will despise it forever

* His full name is Domenico Ade Uriele di Angelo. Ade is the italian form of Hades, and Uriele is the Aquarian Angel so I kinda thought it was a good fit lol. Plus Domenico is fun to say

* He’s never told anyone, but he’s actually open to the idea of a poly relationship and has always had a tiny crush on Leo (don’t mind me throwing in a hint of soldezangelo to appease my soul)

* He lives cuddles! If he doesn’t know you well, he won’t touch you with a ten foot pole. But once he gets to know you and he is comfortable around you... he’s s o f t. He falls asleep on ppl all the time

* Percy gave him his address and phone number after the Battle of the Labyrinth (which is how Nico knew where Percy lived at the end of the book)

* I’ve got so many ideas about Percy and Nico being like siblings and you can find a post about that whole deal here

* When Nico was still living on the streets b/w BotL and tlo, he spent some time at both Percy and Rachel’s homes. He and Rachel bonded over painting

* He’s really good at photography

* He can play like 9 instruments

* He doesn’t really get or understand Halloween and Thanksgiving, but he participates

That’s all for now!! Happy birthday to Nico di Angelo!

[hacked-by-jake]

Hey Ho! :D

You will always find this post in my blog description.🥰

(Well, since there’s not really much information about me, here’s a post of things you’ve been interested in and some facts about me.)

(Thanks to the Anon for the motivation to do this here! <3)

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So, Hi! You can call me HBJ! I don’t want to mention my real name and age here. 😁

I started publishing my fanfictions here on Tumblr a little over a year ago and haven’t left since. xD

My mother tongue is not English, I am from Germany. So if you find some mistakes, please excuse it, I’m doing my best and still learning. <3

I honestly have no idea what to write here so, have fun, if anyone reads through this here. 😂 At least that’s a little bit of me. :D

>The Ask Box is always open. So feel free to ask a question if you are interested (but I want to warn you, I am not answering everything, but I will let you know in this case) < <3

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Let's start! ❤️🌹🎭

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First of all 10 Random Facts about me. This was asked by an anon. Here is the original post.

I’m a giant nerd, there’s no place in my room that’s not full of merchandise.

I prefer to read stories that are self-published, for example here on Tumblr or on other sites, rather than real books.

I have a problem with jackets, I have tons of them.

I usually dye my hair according to the colors of characters I like.It all started with green/purple - because of the Joker. And the last color I have at the moment is all green because of Joker / Loki from Marvel (Oups)

Almost all tattoos I have are about fictional characters (also Oups)

No one, really nobody knows what books/stories I read because that’s something very private to me.

I listen to music 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Also, it’s hard for me / I don’t like to talk about the music I listen to because this is very intimate for me for some reason.

When I watch a series, it’s at least 2 times behind each other, sometimes more often. But never just once.

Films that I watch for the first time and that excite me, I watch every second that I have time. When the movie is over, I start again unless there are several parts. But then I always watch my favorite one 500 times.

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Random questions from you.

(Asked by @procrastinatingrobin) -One place that you'd like to travel at least once in your life?

---- One of my biggest wishes is (what a cliché xD) New York. For example the “Joker Stairs”, which is one of my biggest dreams. *-*

I would love to travel to a lot of locations from my favorite movies/series.🤭

America in general is a dream for me (a German potato 😂😅).

But there are so many beautiful places to which I want to go. For example, I would love to travel to Tenerife. I know someone who lives there and every time I see pictures I get very jealous. xD

Unfortunately, I’m incredibly afraid of flying, so if that doesn’t improve, I’ll never get anywhere near these places.😫😂😂

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(Asked by Anon) How many tattoos do you have?😄

I love tattoo questions. 😂🤭At the moment I have eleven tattoos🥰

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(Asked by Anon) -What's your favorite animal?

Hmmm I don’t really know, I think they are dogs because I have a dog now. *-* But to be honest, turtles are so cool.🤔 My brother has a turtle named: Schiggy (based on Pokémon)🤭

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(Asked by Anon) -The stupidest thing that ever happened to you?

Ohhh hahaha there I have something good!😅Story Time with Hbj xD

Okay: As some might know, I’m a big fan of The Joker by DC.🃏Well, in 2019, the Joker movie with Joaquin Phoenix came to the cinemas and I was at the cinema premiere with my best friend. And the movie was absolutely amazing. I really wanted to watch the movie again..Aaaaand I was lucky because my best friend’s boyfriend also wanted to see the movie in the cinema so I went back to the cinema 5 days later to watch the movie again. I was so excited and so extremely happy that I trembled and could not stand still. xD And for these two reasons, I accidentally dropped my not really old phone. It just fell straight down on the stones in front of the cinema and the display was completely broken..Well, what can I say? I needed a new one.. 😂😅But the movie was still fantastic!😍🤭This is actually one of the stupidest things that ever happened to me. xD

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(Asked by @kyras-things) What are the little things that make your day happiest?

Oh that’s a really nice question! *-*Well, I have really little things that can make me happy. :)-It is enough for me when I wake up tomorrow and see my merchandise shelf😅 (This is right in front of my bed)This is for most something really small but for me really great and makes me happy. <3Other things are music, stroking my dog, messages on my phone, my hair color, my tattoos, when the sun is shining in the morning, coffee, riding longboard and of course (yes this is my absolute serious and not only so therefore said) tumblr and thus at the same time Duskwood. 💕I think these are the most important things. 🤭All I need is to see something that matters to me.😅🥰

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(Asked by @leetjep) Seriously....Do you ever sleep?

Very rarely😂 Last time I slept was in fall.😂

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(Asked by Anon) Ios or android?

Only related to the phone: Android.Yes, I stand by it!😂

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(Asked by @booklover-01040) Hello!I was wondering have you got any paranormal or creepy experiences? If no, then a nightmare that you will never forget.

Hey Ho! In fact, I haven’t experienced any paranormal things. Which is probably also because I don’t believe in that and I’ve found a rational cause for everything so far. (Important: I don’t believe in it, but I don’t say it doesn’t exist, I don’t want anyone to feel attacked)

And a nightmare I’ll never forget? In fact, I can’t think of any one. There’s a dream I’ve have since I was a kid: It’s about two little wolves trying to eat me. xD And I can even tell where that came from.

The movie to blame for this is: Twilight xD

Yep… When I first watched this movie, I was way too young, and as a child I was always very anxious. Just such things and horror movies in general were terrible for me (today it is actually no longer so) (Even the dream is no longer bad today and yet it has a bitter aftertaste of childhood.)

In any case, I was much too young and that did not let me go back then. xD But a really unsettling dream I had was: Well.. Do you know the Pink Panther? 😂

I once dreamed that the Panther “chased” me through an endless long corridor. It was an endless corridor in pink with countless doors. He sang the theme song and threw clocks at me…😅 And that went on all night until I woke up.

(This, by the way, had a trigger too. A German song (the rapper only took the melody of the title music and wrote his own lyrics. The text isn’t really cool though and that’s the reason)

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(Asked by @dreamer-writer-fangirl) What color is your hair?

Well, at the moment my hair is green🤭

Check HERE and HERE for pictures.

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(Asked by Anon) Is your brother younger or older than you?🤗

My brother is older than me.🥰

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(Asked by Anon) Do you have a nickname?

Yes, actually I have one. I can even say it because it has nothing to do with my real name. :D But please don’t laugh at me. 😂Well, I have the loving nickname: Little Onion. yep…My mom gave me that name for some reasons. 😂

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(Asked by Anon) some information about your dancing?😄 you mentioned it a few days ago💃

Yeah, well, I danced for 13 years, in different groups, also several groups at the same time. :D It was the hip hop/breakdance direction. But at some point I stopped because I didn’t enjoy it in the groups anymore and time was getting tighter. :/ Unfortunately, there was and is no real other groups here, which is why I stopped completely and now only dance for myself and just for fun.🤭

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(Asked by Anon) What's your favourite food ?

Uhhhm, I think everything with pasta is my favorite food.😂 I can eat noodles all day. 🤭🍝🍜Well, and of course, Pizza!🍕Pizza is adorable. 😂

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(Asked by Anon) What type of video games do you like to play?

I don’t really have a favorite type / genre, I don’t play video games that often. I’m actually playing what looks exciting to me without any particular genre or type. 😁🤭

But if I do, I guess I’m the most Nintendo type. So most of the games I play are related to Nintendo. <3

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(Asked by @mirajane01040-duskwoodmemes) Do you play... Minecraft?

I used to play a lot of Minecraft, but nowadays not so much, and if so, then only the mobile version. This is fun for in between and dispels the boredom. I even started building Duskwood several times, but never finished it. xD Well, yes, sometimes I play Minecraft.

Answer a few days later: Yes, I do!

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(Asked by Anon) If you could be a fictional character, who would it be and why?

Oh, there are a few. xDBut the three main characters for me: Evey Hammond because of V for Vendetta. Harley Quinn because of The Joker. And, of course, my MC because of Jake. 🤭I know, very superficial reasons but I hope they are enough for you, because these are the main reasons xD 😅🤭

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(Asked by Anon) Hey hbj i'm curiousFamily or a career? 😋

I choose the career.🤭 After that, there is still enough time, and who says that not both work?😉

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(Asked by Anon) do you like alcohol?🍷

No, absolutely no. Not a little bit.

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(Asked by Anon) What is your favorite drink?

If I don’t drink coffee, I only drink sparkling water, my entire life. I very rarely drink something different. Water for life! 🧊

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Either/or questions from you.

(Asked by @duskwood-legacies) -What would you rather see, Northern Lights or sky lanterns?

That’s easy for me🤭 Northern Lights! If you ask me.. that is magical! *-* (Well, unless it’s like “Tangled” and I get a Flynn Rider.. then sky lanterns xD)

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(Asked by @duskwood-legacies) -Strawberries or raspberries?

Definitely: Strawberries🍓 *-*

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(Asked by@duskwood-legacies) Do you prefer angst or fluff?

I think it depends on the general mood I’m in.🤔 I think the best is angst with happy ending.😁

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(Asked by@duskwood-legacies) Milk or cereal first?

Obviously: Cereal first! 😂🥣

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(Asked by @justubi) Would you rather have a nosy neighbor pr noisy neighbor?

Unfortunately, I have both. xD But if I could choose, I would opt for the noisy neighbor as I wear headphones all day anyway.😂

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(Asked by @justubi) Would you rather be poor but love your job or rich but absolutely hate your job?

One hundred percent and without having to think about: poor and love my job!I could never have a job I don’t like. This is a real horror imagination for me😂

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(Asked by @kyras-things ) Prefer to write fanfics or read them?

Oh that’s a really hard question for me! 🤔 I can’t really make up my mind, but I think I’d rather read than write myself. With stories of others I can better dive into another world and relax. 🤭Because when I write, five hundred other thoughts always fly around in my head and I have to decide how to write something etc.I love writing but sometimes I wish I only had to think about a story and it would be written on a sheet right away. xD <3

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(Asked by @leetjep) Would you rather have one eye in the middle of your head or two noses?

I take the eye in the middle of my head. 😂Then I would make the Jake eye as a tattoo around it, which would be really cool.🤭

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(Continues on new asks)

[minghellafine]

Full interview below.

The first thing Max Minghella does when he joins our Zoom call is ask me about the weather. It wasn't just a conversational cliché though, he really wanted to know what it was like where I was. I tell him I'm in New York City, where spring can surprise you with a day that's colder or warmer than it looks. This particular day was chilly. "I'm always cold," he interjects, "I'm reptilian. My body finds a way to keep me cool." He shivered as he spoke, sitting in his sunny backyard in Los Angeles wearing a T-shirt. I checked the temperature right after our call. It was 80 degrees in L.A.

Despite any discomfort, Minghella is just really happy to be at home. Unlike the millions of people who spent 2020 in quarantine, he was working on season four of The Handmaid's Tale throughout the spring and summer."I'm sort of jealous of people who have this moment to pause and reflect," he says soberly. "Even with all of the trauma it's caused and all the things that obviously were detrimental, I know a lot of people who've had big life changes in the past year."

He acknowledged, however, that creating something in a time when everyone wished they could escape was ultimately a lucky thing. "There was a ubiquitous sense of gratitude," he adds.

Outside of the global pandemic, the dynamics on set had shifted — this season, his co-star Elisabeth Moss (or "Lizzie" as he affectionately calls her), was a director. "She was amazing on set," he explained. "Just very in control and it ran super smoothly. When I saw the episodes she directed, it just kind of blew me away. Her style — it's very cinematic and it really underlines the sci-fi elements of the show. It has a real kind of scope and confidence to it. I think she's a real filmmaker."

RELATED: Marvel's New Face Danny Ramirez Has the Range

Minghella's character Nick has an interesting arc this season too –  he's realizing his role as a senior member of the Gilead ruling class, but also still in love with June [Moss]. It's a complex character that challenges you as an audience member. He is the brooding love interest, and while you may root for him and June to be together, you also have to see him for what he is: an architect of a world that kidnaps women and uses them for childbearing.

What made the previous three seasons of the show even harder for viewers to digest was the fact that people so badly wanted to believe there could be a good guy defector — maybe even Nick — in a room full of bad guys. During those years, many people felt that the dystopian elements of the show were reflective of the nationalist agenda being put forth in the United States by the Trump Administration. So much so that a group of protesters famously wore Handmaid costumes to protest anti-abortion bills and Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh's confirmation hearings. Without saying much about the parallels in the show — other than chalking them up to "pure coincidence," Minghella felt the Handmaid's Tale, whose protagonists are anti-Gilead, are "on the right side of history."  He added diplomatically, "Ultimately, I'm most proud because I think it's really great fiction."

I get the sense that the pursuit of "great fiction" is something that consumes Minghella. He's someone who appreciates art (he got his big break in 2006's Art School Confidential), and his parents are Anthony Minghella, the late award-winning director of The Talented Mr. Ripley, and actress Carolyn Choa. He loves details (see our earlier weather conversation). Even the way he talks about Los Angeles has a story-like quality. He tells me about how he knew when the city became his home after a feeling he got driving past the Silver Lake 7-Eleven. As he told it, I pictured it like a scene in an indie movie starring Zach Braff.

"I had this sort of pathological obsession with movies from birth. [My mother] worked for the British equivalent of the Motion Picture Association, so she would watch three films a day. By three or four years old, I was just kind of an obsessed movie person." It's his favorite movie, Beverly Hills Cop ("I think I saw 100 times by the time I was eight years old," he says) that inspired another big role he was working on during quarantine: Minghella stars as a detective opposite Chris Rock in the Saw franchise spin-off Spiral: From the Book of Saw.

"The movie was so serendipitous for me. I feel like I almost manifested it in my life," Minghella muses. "There's a line very early in the movie where we're investigating these crime scenes and we come to a grizzly one. My character looks nauseous. Chris's [character] says to me, 'Are you okay?' And my character says, 'Yeah. I mean I'd been dreaming about this since I was 12-years-old.' And that was a very kind of weird line because it's just true."

Now at 35 years old, Minghella is feeling settled. He is still a "film nerd" that gets giddy with each new opportunity, but he's less anxious about the results. Next thing on his list? Vacation.

"I'm hoping in May once the movie comes out I can run away somewhere."

Read on for his cheesy would-be campaign slogan, his fast-food weakness, and the time he escaped a tornado while working on a film with Blake Lively.

Who is your celebrity crush?

Mary Tyler Moore.

What's the last thing you do before you fall asleep?

I listen to 1950s radio shows. Usually Dragnet. I was researching a project in that period briefly and got sort of into the radio culture of that time. And now I find it incredibly soothing.

Favorite villain?

Hans Gruber.

Describe a memorable dream.

I had a recurring nightmare as a child in which my grandmother turned into a cat. So Tom Hooper's Cats was very traumatizing to me.

First album you ever owned?

My mother bought me the Top Gun soundtrack on audio cassette.

If you were required to spend $1,000 today, what would you buy and why?

I would do anything to help a distressed dog.

If you ran for office, what would your slogan be?

Some kind of tacky pun using my first name. "Take it to the Max," or maybe "Max on, Max off."

Name one place you've never been but have always wanted to go.

Easy. Japan. I went when I was one, but I don't think that counts.

What's the most uncomfortable outfit you've ever worn?

I did a film called Art School Confidential and I had to wear a beret and I found every moment of it truly humiliating. I remember being completely traumatized by it.

Describe your first kiss.

My first kiss was at a bus stop. I was 14 and I lied and told the girl that it wasn't my first kiss, but I think it was probably immediately evident that it was.

What's one dish you're always tempted to order if you see it on a menu?

There are so many things. That's the sad answer. French fries is the truth.

Favorite on-set memory?

I did a movie called Elvis and Anabelle with Blake Lively like 100 years ago and we shot in Texas. There was a tornado one night that forced us to evacuate the set and we had to sort of drive off in a hurry. I put on this song by The Knife called "Pass This On" in the car which is very dramatic and cinematic. The tornado was sort of in pursuit of the vehicle while we were speeding away. And it was just far enough that it wasn't life-threatening, but also a radical visual. That's one of my favorite life memories.

The Handmaid's Tale season 4 premieres on Hulu April 28, and Spiral: From the Book of Saw hits theaters on May 11.

Photographs by Emily Malan. Grooming by Sonia Lee for Exclusive Artists using La Mer. Polaroid Photos by Max Minghella. Special thanks to Polaroid. Production by Kelly Chiello.

[theravenclawrevolutionary]

A couple weeks ago you mentioned in a post that most of what's known about Robespierre is propaganda, could you elaborate on that?

Of course Anon! I’m always glad to talk about anything pertaining to the Frev! I’m not sure how much you already know about the French revolution, but I know other people will read this so hold on, 'cause it’s about to get long and in-depth as hell!

Also: Just a reminder that I don’t have a degree in history or anything. I simply spend a majority of my free time looking up information cause I’m a nerd like that. And of course, my statement about Robespierre could be applied with different levels of accuracy to other historical figures at the time, including the monarchy. This is just how it applies to Maxime as requested. Any questions about any other aspects of the French Revolution are always welcome. I'll try to answer then as clearly, accurately, and respectfully as possible.

A majority of information commonly spread about Robespierre is that he was a vicious and cruel leader with no regard for anyone but himself. Supposedly, he was so obsessed with the ideas of perfection and ‘virtue’ that he lost any human emotion, rendering him cold, friendless, and willing to sacrifice anything or anyone to get his way. In fact, when I first was introduced to him and the French Revolution in school several years ago, I was under the impression that he personally was responsible for a majority of deaths that occurred during the revolution. That’s what caused me to first look into him. Morbid stuff has always interested me and I wanted to know all about the vicious relentless killer who had no regard for human life and wanted to purge France of anyone who lacked the necessary virtues of his twisted moral code.

As I began to research I realized the picture of Robespierre painted for me by the flawed American education system, the modern media, and a surprising amount of books summarizing the history of the world was incredibly skewed, usually in favor of the ‘poor monarchy’ who were ‘thrust into an impossible position and didn’t mean for anything to happen’. 

In reality, Robespierre was, despite remaining a flawed individual like the rest of us, a quiet well dressed, polite man who was loyal to his friends, cared deeply about his family, wanted to reform the country in favor of the common people, and fought for what he believed in. Maxime had social anxiety and loved animals especially birds and dogs. Oftentimes he left his glasses places and couldn’t remember where he put them. He once wrote a poem about how much he loved tarts. Things made him angry, happy, and scared. The man who played such a crucial part in the revolution was still the same person as the young man who cried when his youngest sister Henriette died at age seventeen and the man who was praised as being a bright student at Louis-le-Grand. He advocated for women’s rights to an education, supported the rights of Jews in France (who were an unrepresented minority at the time), proposed laws in an attempt to decrease unnecessary violence (which he hated along with the war against Austria, the dechristianization of France, and the dangerous mob mentality). Maximilien Robespierre was an actual person who actually felt things like the rest of us. He was no heartless monster who preyed on innocent Frenchmen for no reason.

Now it’s time to point out the wrongs he committed. It can never be a fair judge of someone’s character, living or dead, without taking into account the bad things they have done. Robespierre did vote in favor of Louis XVI’s execution, mistakenly believing that France would benefit from the king’s death. After Capet’s execution violence spiraled out of control, resulting in a period of death known as The Reign of Terror. He also didn’t do as much as he should have to oust revolutionaries with dangerous tendencies and a penchant to condone mob violence. One of his biggest faults was his habit of compromising when he should have stood his ground and standing his ground when compromising would be the better option. His signature can be found on the arrest warrant sent out for the Dantonists, including his friend (to some degree) Georges Danton and childhood friend Camille Desmoulins, who eventually would go on to be executed.

Now the question is, how did a usually quiet, reserved individual become known as a bloodthirsty cult leader? The answer is, of course, Thermidorian Propaganda. For those of you that don’t know what that means, allow me to explain. 

Thermidor was the name of the fifth month on the revolutionary calendar (which was implemented in 1793 and used in France through 1805 ) that spanned from July 19th to August 17th on the Gregorian Calendar. At the beginning of Thermidor Maximilien was to make a speech to the National Convention speaking about but refusing to then name of several members who were corrupt or had committed crimes against the revolution and defending his own part in trying to find them. (Actually, I believe he straight-up named three people, but I don’t remember their names so it’s not important.) Convention members who feared exposure by the speech conspired together to overthrow Robespierre, who was seen as the figurehead of the revolution, (similarly to how the president represents the United States as a whole) and save their reputations. Robespierre and those still loyal to him fled to the Hotel de Ville, were captured by the National Guard, and were sentenced to death via guillotine all within the span of a few days. Those who accused and condemned him have come to be known as Thermidorians and the event itself known as the Thermidorian Reaction.

In order to preserve their reputations, the Thermidorians began criminalizing Robespierre and using him as a scapegoat for crimes committed (and not committed at all) by different people during the revolution. As the common saying goes, “History is written by the winners.” Because they succeeded in their plot against the Robespierrists and frightened anyone who wished to stand up and support their own Robespierrist views, the Thermidorians were able to control the narrative and the light in which Robespierre is presented. As his rivals/enemies they wanted themselves to seem obviously correct and Robespierre to seem clearly in the wrong. Things were not so black and white, so they fudged the information a little to help their cause.

As a result our picture of Robespierre is very different from the actual man. I'd like to say that he did both helpful and problematic things over the course of his time in the spotlight. He was a human, simple as that. It isn't right to demonize him and completely butcher his true self the way the Thermidorians and many historians since have done, but in the same breath we also have to remember all the awful things he allowed and was a part of.

Sorry it got so long, but I hoped I cleared things up for you Anon. If you have more questions, please hit me up!

~Dara

[blissfulalchemist]

tia + sunbathing

Thank you for the suggestion Kate! This piece is a little over 800 words and I hope you enjoy your girl out in her natural habitat!

Freedom.

I can’t remember the last time I truly felt it. Maybe that first year after high school when I started to come into my own and I had traveled up and down both coasts settling into the heat of the Mojave. The first love of my life, the Mojave, and it’s where I’ve returned once crossing so many state lines it’d be hard to place my exact location. Good.

I had the awning of the stolen yellow bus open just enough to provide enough shade for Mesa to rest in while I laid out on the sand. The warmth of the rocks and sand along my back, sun darkening my skin, and the humming of the heat soothing the muscles in my body. I could melt and breathe here, unlike that building in St. Louis, all crammed and cold.

I’m near dozing off in the afternoon heat with Mesa’s whine startling me. Her tail’s raised, paws shifting, bouncing from side to side, eyes fixated in the distance and looking back to me. I rise onto my elbows, squinting to where Mesa is slowly moving closer too, whines strangled with barks. I move on all fours catching movement low to the ground.

I stop, rocks digging into my palms, overlooking a coiled snake, their head low, muscles tense, tongue flicking rapidly as Mesa gives a single bark, the poor thing flinching farther away. “Mesa,” I commanded, pointing back towards the VW, “Go lie down.” The brindle Aussie stares me down, letting out one more whine, “Go on. Go lie down,” the sound she makes as she walks back head down sounds like muttering under her breath. She lies on her front paws watching intently as I turn back to the snake. The light brown scales are patterned with dark brown spots that turn almost red approaching the tail, it’s big amber eyes regarding me as I make myself lower.

“Hey there little guy,” I say softly, “How did a fellow like you end up sunbathing in a place like this?” His head lowers and raises looking me over, the coil of his body starting to loosen, “You escape captivity too? Wanna be a free spirit like me?” The forked tongue slows as he moves closer, my hand slowly reaching out to him. “I’m not gonna hurt you, you can come closer.”

I let my hand lay on the ground palm up, his snout leading to the center of my hand, the tips of his tongue tickling as it makes contact with my skin. I smile, tilting my head, watching as he moves around my hand before slithering up my forearm. “There we go. See? I’m not gonna let you get hurt,” I’m slow in my movements as I rest on my knees, cradling the snake in both my hands, “You’re really adorable you know that?” The snake continues his exploration up my arm, the sensation tickling as he makes it closer to my neck, trying my best to not move my head that would shield me from the sensation. “You wanna stick with us?” I ask as I move to stand with him hanging around my neck, “I think you should cause I’m always on the move you know.” Mesa sits up watching as I make my way inside the van, “See I got everything I could need right here. I got a bed with yellow bed sheets, maple cabinets, a sink, a nice stove top, and….,” I glance around at the various signs as decorations with variations of Live, Laugh, Love, “Well beggars can’t be choosers when you’re stealing for survival.”

I shrug, the snake's eyes staring at me as I move him from my neck to my arms once again. “I can take out the microwave for you and put a small tank there,” I let him elongate pursing my lips as I gauge his length, “you’re only about maybe a little under four feet for now. How does that sound?” He seems to nod as I smile making my way back out to the heat, “Mesa,” the dog perks her ears up tilting her head, “You gotta be nice to our new friend okay?”

I lower the snake just enough for Mesa to give a sniff, eyebrows raising ever so slightly. “Oh it’ll be fine Mesa, he’s a boa and way too small to harm you,” the snake looks up at me, the expression filled with judgement that I only ever saw on one person, “I’d call you Conner but that seems like a disservice to you. Same with Khakis.” Being alone in the desert had its upsides as I swear I see him roll his eyes, “Oh! I know what I’ll call you! I’ll call you Paps, short for Pabiyan.”

“If you ever had a pet what would you name them?” “Pabiyan.” “That’s a funny name. Where did you come up with that?” “Well Caro if you must know, it was the name of a character in one of my favorite books growing up. About the guy that allowed for Jack and the Beanstalk to happen.” “You’re such a nerd, Khakis.”

[emachinescat]

The Casket of the Armadillos (by Edgar Allan Nope)

A Psych Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 9 - buried alive

Summary:  When Shawn confronts a grad student turned murderer, he learns a very important lesson a very hard way: Don’t piss off English nerds - especially the homicidal ones. 

Characters: Shawn, Gus, Juliet, Lassiter, Henry

Words: 5,924

TW: panic attacks, buried alive, claustrophobia

Note: If you liked this classic lit-inspired Psych fic, you can always check out this one I wrote, inspired by To Kill a Mockingbird: The Finch and the Mockingbird 

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

I forced the last stone into its position; I plastered it up.  Against the new masonry I re-erected the old rampart of bones.  For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them.  In pace requiescat!

- Edgar Allan Poe, “The Cask of Amontillado”

Her name was Olivia Hale, she was a twenty-three-year-old grad student at UCSB, and she was working on her doctorate in American lit.  She was attractive in a cute librarian sort of way - short and petite, with long, curly auburn hair she kept in a bun and oversized glasses with thick lenses, and a smattering of freckles across her slightly upturned nose.  She knew a little bit about everything when it came to literature as a whole, a rather impressive amount about American literature, and absolutely everything there was to know about the life and works of one Edgar Allan Poe.

She was also batshit crazy and currently pointing a .22 pistol directly at Shawn’s head.

“Don’t move,” she growled, disengaging the safety.  

Shawn did a cursory glance around the empty classroom, looking for anything at all he could use to his advantage, to distract her or attack her with or - worst case scenario - to use as a shield.  But Olivia had found him snooping around on the tiny fourth floor study room that she’d been given to use by the department chair as her thesis headquarters.  She’d really made herself at home here, piling books and journals and what seemed like hundreds of loose sheets of paper on every available surface.  

But he was stranded in the middle of the room, with nothing close enough to use as a weapon, and so Shawn used the most powerful tool he had, one that had saved his life and many others, wooed women all over the country, and ordered more chili cheese dogs than he could count.  

He started talking.

“Look, Olivia, I get it,” he said soothingly.  Slowly, in the most non-threatening  manner possible, he lowered his hands.  Olivia gripped the pistol tighter but didn’t shoot.  “I know what happened.  You didn’t mean to kill him.”

Her eyes were wide and fierce, her lips pursed into a thin line.  “No,” she admitted.  “It was an accident.  But he was going to--”

“Yeees,” drawled Shawn, slowly raising his left hand and putting it to his temple, very well aware that he was probably pushing the limit with all of this movement after she had expressly ordered, at gunpoint, for him to stay still.  “I see it.  Dr. Graves was feeling guilty, wasn’t he?  A fifty-five-year-old professor with a fancy PhD and tenure, and a devoted wife and three kids and two grandkids, to boot.  The perfect life.  But oooh, it wasn’t enough for him, was it?”  

Shawn immediately answered his own question, something that he had become exceptionally good at over the years since he was usually the only one who could keep up with himself.  “Of course not!  What’s the perfect job and family when you’ve got a smokin’ hot, super smart student in her mid-twenties who thinks you’re the most impressive man on the planet?”

She sneered, and Shawn noticed with some trepidation that the hand holding the gun trembled just the tiniest bit.  When she spoke, her voice warbled with rage.  “My age and appearance had nothing to do with it - and even if it did, there was nothing wrong with our relationship!  We were perfect for each other, intellectual equals.  We were on each other’s levels - he was my soulmate!  So don’t you dare belittle what we had like that!”  

Ah.  So he had hit a nerve.  This could now go either one of two ways, in Shawn’s extensive experience in being held hostage: Either she would get fed up and send a bullet screaming through his body, Garth Longmore style, or she would let her emotions distract her, and cause her to make a stupid mistake.  Obviously, Shawn hoped for the latter.  

Now Shawn had to make a choice, because he could proceed in one of two ways: Either he could back off and try from another angle, or he could further antagonize her into (hopefully) making a mistake.  Naturally, Shawn went with the latter.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed airily.  “Older men and younger women do it all the time.  But to say there was nothing wrong with your relationship?  The man was married, and you were his student.  I’m not the headmaster here -”

“Dean,” she corrected sharply, and this further proved that Shawn had pegged her correctly as a know-it-all literature wunderkind who had to be right one thousand percent of the time.  “This isn’t Hogwarts.”

Shawn gave a tiny shrug.  “To be honest, all big schools look like Hogwarts to me.”

“Because you have the mind of a child.”  The words were accusatory and patronizing, but Shawn flashed a dazzling smile.

“Thank you,” he said.  Before she could respond, he continued his earlier thoughts, “Even though you were the ‘perfect couple,’ you were furious with him for even suggesting that you stop seeing one another.  The affair was too risky, and he missed his wife.  He wanted to tell her the truth, fix things.”

“It would have ruined everything!” Olivia hissed, and the sound of her voice sent shivers down Shawn’s spine.  There was an unhinged quality to it, something raw and dangerous that he hadn’t sensed before.  He fought the sudden urge to backpedal as far away from her as possible.  “We were perfect together!  And if he told his wife and she let it slip, I would be kicked out!  All my research, all my time and work here, everything would be gone!  He had no right to make that decision for me, to take away my future!”

“Maybe,” said Shawn, and it was like he was watching from outside his body, because he knew that what he was about to say was a big mistake, but he was helpless to stop the words from tumbling from his lips, “you should have thought more about your future before you pursued your married Shakespeare teacher.”

Fury etched itself into every feature of her face, turning her from a beautiful librarian to a feral monster, but her voice was slow and measured as if it was taking every ounce of self-control she possessed not to shoot him where he stood.  “He taught Southern. Gothic. Masterpieces.”

Shawn tried to backtrack, to undo whatever damage had been done by his unpredictably big mouth.  “But,” he pressed.  “Killing him was an accident.  You didn’t mean to push him down four flights of stairs.”

She considered this.  “No, I didn’t mean to kill him,” she reaffirmed, and then an odd calm smoothed out the angry crevices between her eyebrows - the peace, perhaps, of having come to an important decision that she knew was absolutely right.  Shawn recognized the look because he’d seen it on others’ faces before (very rarely, if ever, had he seen it upon his own).  “And I don’t think I will kill you, either.”

Whatever Shawn had been expecting, this wasn’t it.  Everything about this woman screamed insane and vengeful.  If Shawn lived, he would turn her into the police, and she would go to jail for a very long time.  She was incredibly intelligent - surely she knew this!

And then she clarified, and the world started to make sense again - though Shawn would have honestly been perfectly content in this alternate reality where the bad guy suddenly has a miraculous change of heart.  “Well,” she amended, “I won’t kill you directly.  I’ve never shot anyone before - I only have this little guy here because I’m a young, pretty girl on a big college campus, and I have two night classes.  Besides, your death shouldn’t be so easy.”

Shawn swallowed.  “Olivia, you don’t have to do this.  You haven’t intentionally killed anyone yet.  If you turn yourself in now and cooperate, your sentence will be a lot shorter than if you kill me - directly or not.  Because make no mistake, even if you kill me, you will still get caught.  The SBPD has some damn good detectives, and they’ll bring you down even if I don’t.”

She didn’t respond to him directly.  Instead, her expression was flat save for the dark gleam in her eyes, and she intoned words that in and of themselves had no meaning to Shawn, but that still managed to strike a chord of fear deep inside of his soul.  “‘The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as best I could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge.’”  Shawn was utterly unnerved by this point; it was like she had been taken over by something both sinister and incredibly well-spoken.

And indeed, in many ways she had, as Shawn soon found out, she was quoting the beginning of a story by Edgar Allan Poe.

Presently, however, Shawn had no context for her strange words or sudden shift of demeanor.  His skin crawled and his heart pumped with more get-up-and-go than he’d ever been able to muster in his whole body before.  “Uh, Olivia…”

“Move,” she ordered.  

This time, though it was contrary to his nature, Shawn did what she said without arguing.  This side of the student, with stolen words sliding evilly from her mouth, was a million times scarier than the enraged Olivia who had very nearly shot him between the eyes.

She marched him out of the room and down the three flights of stairs to the main lobby of the English building.  It was dark outside, nearing midnight, and Shawn kicked himself for thinking he was clever for coming to investigate this late.  He’d thought she’d be at home sleeping.  He should have realized that as a grad student, sleeping was the one thing she wouldn’t have time for!  And now he was in very deep trouble, alone, and no one knew where he was.  He should have waited until morning, until the building wasn’t deserted, should have at least called Gus and told him what he was doing.  But it was a college campus, and she was a tiny little literature nerd - it should have been safe!

As she forced him down one flight of stairs, then two, then three, and finally, into a stairwell off the beaten path that had to be unlocked with a key card - which she had - she continued to encant, her voice slowly losing its flatness and growing into something twisted and sing-songy with every word.

“‘You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that gave utterance to a threat.  At length I would be avenged; this was a point, definitely, settled - but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk.’”

“Olivia--”

It was as if she hadn’t heard him as she shoved him into the basement, and now her voice stilled from a chant to a slow, measured whisper..  “‘I must not only punish but punish with impunity.’”   

Shawn wasn’t sure what impunity was, but it sure as hell didn’t sound good.

Their final destination ended up being a small, partially finished storage room near the back of the basement.  Dusty boxes and rusted cabinets and archaic old computer monitors lined the walls and cluttered most of the walking space.  Shawn was reminded grimly of a school supply graveyard.  

Olivia stopped him when they came to a brick wall that had been busted through to fix some issue with the pipes - Shawn saw the water stains on the concrete floor near the break in the wall, and there was a brand new water pipe joined to an old, yellowed one at about eye-level in the small open space between the bricks and the drywall beyond.  Shawn also noticed that the new bricks had been neatly piled up near a sealed bucket that almost certainly contained mortar, right outside of the hole.  Someone was in the process of walling this section back up.

“Nice wall,” Shawn joked, relieved that Olivia had finally stopped her creepy recitation and desperately trying to lighten the mood and bring things back to some sort of normal - honestly, he’d take being threatened with the gun again to the horror movie stuff he’d just witnessed.  “I bet all the other walls are jealous of it.”

It was a lame joke, but her eerie dramatics had him all kinds of messed up.  He expected her to tell him to shut up, or to threaten to shoot him again, or to actually shoot him, but instead she asked him a question in that same cold, calm voice as before.  “Have you ever read ‘The Cask of Amontillado,’ Shawn?”

Shawn blinked.  “I make it a point not to read anything that’s not a magazine from the 80s or WikiHow articles on ‘How to Escape from Dangerous Forest Animals.’”

The corner of her lips lifted in a mockery of a satisfied smile.  “Good.  Then you’ll get to experience it for yourself, first hand.  Just wait until you get to the ending!  You’re going to love it.”

Somehow, Shawn doubted that very much.

Still holding the gun on him with one hand, she reached her free hand into the cross-body bag she wore and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.  Shawn groaned.

“Come on!  What college student just carries handcuffs in their school bag?”  Then he remembered that this particular student had until recently been having a passionate affair with her teacher.  “Wait - never mind.  It makes perfect sense.”

She laughed, even though what he said wasn’t even remotely funny.  The sound of it was strange and discordant - light and tinkly with a threatening undertone that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.  Then she gestured at the hole in the wall and ordered, “In.”

Shawn had known it was coming, but had tried to shove that knowledge into the corner of his mind - something that was quite difficult to do for someone with a photographic and eidetic memory - in an effort to convince himself that even she wasn’t that cruel.  He tried to appeal to her one last time: “Olivia, it’s not too late to stop this.  I mean, are you really going to do this to another human being - seriously, look at this place - it’s dusty and moldy and I’m almost certain there’s no room service!  If you’re going to chain me to a pipe, why not do it in a five star hotel?”  When she nudged him with the gun, eyes gleaming with something dark and triumphant, he reluctantly stepped into the small space and implored, “I’ll even settle for a seedy motel off a poorly lit backroad.  I’m not too picky.”

She didn’t answer him as she stood on her tiptoes and handcuffed Shawn’s wrists around the pipe, cinching them so tight that the metal dug into his skin and he doubted that even his dad’s lessons on escaping handcuffs wouldn’t be much help here.  Already he could feel his fingers going numb, and his shoulders and back had started to ache from the hunched position he was forced to take due to the height of the pipe and the awkward angle of his arms.  

Well, Shawn thought glumly as she smiled at her handiwork and carefully backed out of the small space, maybe all wasn’t lost.  Surely someone would come down here and find him. This place was dusty, but it couldn’t be abandoned - work still needed to be done down here, after all.  And he could always yell for help once he was sure Olivia was gone.  She was booksmart, but maybe she wasn’t criminally minded.  He might be in for an uncomfortable night, but in the morning someone would find him and he could have his vision and the cute little psychopath would go to jail for a very long time.

He waited for her to leave, but instead, she used a crowbar to pry the lid off the bucket of mortar, and the pit in Shawn’s stomach became a whole-ass trench.  He should have seen this coming - his heart pounded madly against his rib cage as if trying to free itself, with or without him.  He couldn’t blame it.  “Olivia, please,” he said, and this time, there was no joke, his voice imploring and terrified.  “You don’t have -”

Again, she cut him off.  “How would you like to hear a story before you die, Shawn?” she asked in a tone so casual that she could have been asking him if he wanted to grab a taco.

“How about you tell me a story and then I don’t die?” Shawn bargained weakly.

“Mmmm… If you stay alive, my whole life will be ruined,” Olivia reasoned.  “And I have worked far too hard to allow that to happen.  So.  You just stand there - quietly - and I’ll tell you the story of Poe’s most beloved tale of revenge.  I won’t tell you word for word, of course - we don’t have time for that - but for posterity, I do have it memorized.”  She sounded grotesquely proud of that fact.  “It’s my favorite of his stories, after all.”

And so, as she slowly began to brick up the hole in the wall, with Shawn trapped, helpless and in a dissociative state of panic, she told him the story of two men with really stupid names that Shawn somehow managed, despite his raging fear, to file away for later as possible nicknames for Gus.

“Our story starts in Italy, during the carnival, and our narrator is a man named Montresor, who has a grudge against his once-friend, now-foe, Fortunato…”

The story was an interesting one, even to Shawn, who preferred watching over reading and especially over listening any day.  And as it turned out, Olivia was a really good storyteller.  If he had been in any other position, Shawn might have actually enjoyed the suspenseful tale of revenge.  

But as he stooped there and was forced to listen, all he could think about was about how terrified this Fortunato guy must have been, and then he started wondering how long it had been before the man hadn’t been able to hold his bladder or… other things… anymore, and then about what had happened when he was too tired and dizzy to stand up, if the manacles on his wrists had pulled so hard against his flesh that they cut into him, and if lack of water or oxygen killed him first, all the while he knew that he wasn’t asking these questions for the sake of the fictional character.  He was asking them for himself.  Olivia had made it exceedingly clear - for a literature scholar, she was surprisingly un-subtle about any underlying meanings or motives - that Fortunato’s story was now to be his story.

It wasn’t until she had begun discussing with rapture the brilliance of Poe’s use of the Italian carnival as the setting of a story about murder (because of its abandonment of social order, whatever that meant) and had built up all but the last two bricks, leaving a hole around Shawn’s eye level, that came to the most horrifying realization yet.   He’d been so focused on his own thoughts and fears with Olivia’s words washing over him like an acid bath that he’d barely registered that the dim light in the hole had been darkening incrementally with each new brick placed.  Now he came to the bone-chilling understanding that once she placed those last two bricks, he would be completely in the dark.

He was going to die, alone, terrified, and in utter darkness with fear as his only friend.  He thought in that moment that he might die of a heart attack before he could even think about dehydrating or suffocating.  Honestly, it sounded like an easier way to go.

“Well,” said Olivia finally.  “I can’t say that it’s been a pleasure to meet you in any way, Shawn, but I suppose I should thank you.  Ever since I found out about this unfinished wall down here, I’ve had this unscratchable itch to recreate the titular scene from my favorite Poe story.  You gave me the means and justification to do it!”

Shawn was so overcome by the surging sea of fear and early-onset claustrophobia that he couldn’t even muster up the gumption to make a joke about the word titular.  Instead, as Olivia knelt down next to her bag, rooting around for something, he jerked madly against the handcuffs, desperately searching for any give in the metal or the pipe he was handcuffed to (or even his wrists, at this point he wasn’t picky).  But the pipe was new, and it was sturdy, and so was the fitting that connected it to the old one, which itself didn’t seem too keen on budging, either.

A sick grin teased at Olivia’s parted lips.  “Oh, Fortunato tried that too.  But then he stopped crying and struggling and chose to die with a shred of dignity.  But I highly doubt dignity is something you’re capable of.”  

And then, with the finality of fitting a lid to a coffin, she slapped a piece of fluorescent pink duct tape over his mouth and a fresh wave of panic ravaged Shawn’s everything.  He didn’t remember this happening in her retelling of the story!  Then again, the Fortunato guy had been sealed into catacombs deep underground.  Shawn was in the basement of a heavily trafficked university building.  Someone would actually hear him if he called for help, so she took his voice away from him too.  He couldn’t even sing “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” to pass his time or distract him from the inevitable.  As if it wasn’t bad enough that he would die in the dark, he would die in the quiet too - and silence was, as his incessant need for chatter plainly proved, Shawn’s worst enemy.

“Goodbye, Shawn,” Olivia said, and she added one brick, layered on the mortar, and then gave her captive one last satisfied glance before adding the last brick and leaving Shawn in total, impenetrable darkness.  He would never forget that last, terrible look in her eyes before his world went black - she was no longer human; she had elevated herself to the level of the storytelling gods and she relished in the twisted power she held over the life of another human.

As her footsteps clipped away, her voice, obscenely gleeful, called out, “In pace requiescat!”

***

The next ten hours were the worst of Shawn’s life, and they consisted of five main elements all bundled together into a nightmare that would stalk him for the rest of his life.

Cold.  It was the middle of January, and though it couldn’t have been less than forty-five degrees outside, the basement - especially behind the walls - was chilly, and with the musty smell and the dust and the pitch black, Shawn was reminded far too much of a grave and knew that he might as well be in one, because this was going to be his.  It was the kind of cold that bit deeper than the skin and wormed its way into the very core and dug its icy fangs in and refused to let go - the chill of death, an open invitation from the dead to join them in their home beneath the ground.  He shivered a lot, but he couldn’t be sure if it was the cold, or the panic.  It was probably a little of both.

Dark.  The darkness that surrounded him had an unreal nature that could easily trick the eyes into thinking that they were already closed.  It was oppressive and thick, pressing in from all sides, inky black water dredged from the depths of the sea.

Shawn had never been a fan of the dark, but neither did he exactly fear it.  That changed the second that the last brick was put into place and he found himself in a darkness so severe that were in not for the feeling of floor beneath his feet he could have been suspended in the depths of space so remote that not even stars could reach.  The darkness swarmed his senses - it had a physical presence, and it didn’t lessen, never permitted Shawn’s eyes to adjust to it in the slightest.  It just hung there, surrounded him, assaulted his mind with its infinite arsenal of nightmares.

After experiencing true darkness, Shawn would never sleep without a nightlight again (which unfortunately meant he couldn’t judge Gus anymore for using one, either).

Pain.  At first it was just the pull of his shoulders, the ache in his back.  Then, about five minutes after he’d been sealed up, he realized his wrists were screaming with agony - he must have torn them badly when he fought to get away, but the adrenaline staved off the pain until now.  He vaguely wondered how deeply the cuffs had cut - it felt like the skin on his wrists had been flayed - but quickly remembered that it didn’t matter where he was going.  

Then there were the hunger pangs, and they mingled with the cramps from holding his bladder longer than he ever had before, and at some point muscle spasms in his arms and chest and legs joined the choir of suffering.  At one point, he shed a few tears, but they could have just as easily been from anxiety or exhaustion, which itself produced its own kind of pain - he longed to sleep, but his body refused to allow him even that comfort until the very end, right before he was rescued, as if he were being forced on pain of death to endure the pain of death right up until the very moment of his painful death.

At least he didn’t have too much trouble breathing.  There must have been a crack somewhere in the wall in front of or behind him, because fresh air was entering somehow.  He did, several hours into his imprisonment, begin finding it difficult to pull in a full breath, and by the time he was rescued he was giddy with light-headedness, but he didn’t know if it was from the air quality or exhaustion or panic or from being forced to breathe only through his nose for hours, but he really didn’t care.

Quiet.  Even worse than the cold and the dark and the pain was the quiet.  The tape over his mouth prevented him from doing the one thing that could bring him comfort in even the most difficult of situations.  Talking was what Shawn did - he utilized mindless prattle to distract bad guys, to make people underestimate him, to quell fear and panic in himself and those around him, to annoy and wheedle those whose opinions meant the most to him (and who he was most afraid to be real with), and most importantly, to distract himself from all the pain and baggage that his exceptional memory had filed away for him throughout the years.  Talking nonsense meant that he wasn’t thinking about or acknowledging the parts of himself that arguably needed the most attention, those bits that were scared and unsure and hurt and vulnerable.

Shawn had always detested silence, and now it had invaded so intimately that even he could not drive it out.

And all of these culminated in a constant, agonizing state of absolute, unrelenting fear.  

Panic attacks are horrific things that take your natural instincts in potentially dangerous situations and turn them against you in the cruelest of ways.  They suck the air out of your lungs and make your heart pound so fast and so hard that you are convinced it’s going to give out in pure fatigue and never make it to that next beat.  It makes your skin crawl like there are thousands of spiders nesting there, and your chest hurts and your breath is short and stunted and you know you are dying, that the next breath will be your last, but it isn’t, and the fear just continues and sometimes you curl into a ball or rock back and forth or scratch at your skin.

Panic attacks generally last anywhere from five to twenty minutes.  Shawn was stuck in a state of raw, unfiltered panic for ten hours.  When the EMTs at the scene took his heart rate, it was 160, had been the entire time he’d been buried in a collegiate tomb, knowing that he was going to die.

Put simply, Shawn Spencer spent ten hours in his own personal hell.

***

It was nearly three in the afternoon when Detectives Juliet O’Hara and Carlton Lassiter, with the help of a frantic Gus and a worried Henry that tried his damndest not to show how worried he was, made the final connections in the case and tracked down the woman who had slept with and then killed her lover like a hyper-intelligent, book-loving black widow.  Juliet and Gus remained on the college campus to continue investigating while Lassiter and Henry went on to the station to question Olivia.  She had refused to say where the missing psychic detective was, however, and only offered one bitter phrase, spoken in another language that sounded to the questioning party like a curse being placed on their heads: 

“Nemo me impune lacessit.”

It was Gus who figured it out after Lassiter related the cryptic saying over the phone.

“I know that phrase!” he exclaimed to a swell of raised eyebrows.  “It’s Latin! It means no one wounds me with impunity!”

“You speak Latin?”  Juliet seemed impressed.

“Not much.  But I recognize that particular saying, because it’s from a story that gave me nightmares my entire sophomore year of college.”  He shuddered.  “It’s from the second-most terrifying Poe story.”  He didn’t elaborate on what the first-most terrifying one was, largely because he didn’t want to give the others fodder to use “The Tell-Tale Heart” against him like Shawn already did.  Then the full implications of the words sunk in and he gasped, “We have to find Shawn, now.”  The horror in his expression sent a chill down Juliet’s spine. 

“Gus - what the hell are you talking about?”  Henry was no longer trying to hide the panic in his voice.

“It’s from ‘The Cask of Amontillado,’ Gus clarified, his own panic making it difficult to express himself clearly.

“Guster, this is hardly the time for you to have a glass of wine,” Lassiter barked.  “Now stop talking in riddles and just spit it out!”

But Juliet had now made the connection as well and answered for Gus.  “Oh my gosh - isn’t that the one where the guy is sealed into a wall and left to die?”

The dread in Gus’s eyes said it all.

“He’s got to be somewhere on campus,” Henry reasoned, and his voice shook the tiniest bit.  “Lassiter and I are on our way back to you now.  In the meantime, check with the school and see if there are any places that are easily accessed and under construction.”

No one said it aloud, but the possibility that her words hadn’t been a hint at all and that Shawn was somewhere else entirely hung in the air amongst them.  It was funny, Juliet thought - though it wasn’t funny at all - she urgently needed Gus’s theory to be right, because otherwise they would have no leads, but at the same time, she was terrified of the implications if it were true.  

Her heart felt as sick as Montresor’s when he placed the last brick as she and Gus raced to the administration building and prayed they weren’t too late.

***

When they broke through the wall, the sight that greeted them was one that would never leave them - any of them.  Even Lassiter, who made it his sacred duty to remain unfazed by anything his job threw at him was visibly disturbed.

A moment of silence, a beat where time stood still and everyone was afraid to move, and then - 

“Shawn!”  The four rescuers surged forward as one, but Henry got there first, his trembling fingers groping for a pulse - thank God, but it was racing, dangerously fast, and in the background he heard Lassiter radioing for an ambulance.

Shawn woke up as Henry gently peeled the hideous pink duct tape (an affront to all duct tape everywhere) off of his mouth.  It wasn’t a gentle waking, a flutter of eyelashes or the murmuring of a name - it was violent and erratic, fueled by terror.  

Henry had had to deal with panic attacks before - mostly Gus’s when he took the boys camping together, but once or twice when Shawn was really young and he’d had a bad dream.  This one was the worst that he’d ever seen - Shawn woke with a muffled yell, panting through his nose, writhing, tears streaming down his face, eyes squeezed shut against the trauma he’d been subjected to, and he threw himself against the handcuffs so fiercely that Henry feared he’d break his wrists.  

Soon his wrists were freed, though, and Henry, with the help of Lassiter, helped a weakened Shawn out of the wall and into the basement and lowered him to the floor.  Henry sat with him and rubbed his back and spoke quietly to him, Juliet took his hand, and Gus reassured him while Lassiter ran up the stairs to check on the ETA of the ambulance.  

Twenty minutes later, Shawn had been placed onto a stretcher and carried up the stairs and out into the sunlight - sensing the warm rays, he opened his eyes only to pinch them shut again as the brightness after so many hours in the dark nearly blinded him.  He had been given something to calm him down, and he would be going to the hospital to be checked over and observed overnight, and a psychiatrist would be sent in to evaluate him in the morning, and everything was moving so fast that Shawn leaned over the side of the stretcher and deposited the remnants of the last thing he’d eaten, nearly twelve hours before.

“There’s one thing I still don’t get,” he gasped as he was eased back onto the stretcher.  “Where do the armadillos come into her plan?”

The EMTs exchanged a concerned look at the stretcher, probably wondering if there had been some carbon monoxide poisoning after all.  Gus, however, just rolled his eyes.

“Amontillado, Shawn.  It’s a kind of wine.”

“The story is called ‘The Casket of the Armadillos,’” Shawn argued stubbornly, going so far as to cross his arms over his chest, pulling at the IV in his right hand.  

Gus was going to argue, to insist that he’d actually read the story (and why the heck would someone fill a casket with armadillos?), but then Gus saw the plea in Shawn’s hazel eyes, that need for jokes and silliness, and understood that his best friend was clinging onto his last shreds of control.  

“You know what - I forgot,” Gus corrected, shaking his head and giving himself a light smack on the forehead for good measure.  “It is ‘The Casket of Armadillos.’”  He glared out at Henry, at Lassiter and Juliet and the EMTs, defying them to challenge his claim.  No one did, but they all shared a similar baffled expression.

Well, they could deal with their confusion, Gus thought protectively as he watched Shawn and Henry disappear into the ambulance.  Shawn had been through a night of unspeakable horror, so if it was armadillos he wanted, then it was armadillos he was going to get.

[greatcheesiness]

Hope: MSBY

Synopsis: In which a shooting star decided to make their prayers come true…

Characters: Atsumu/Sakusa/Hinata/Bokuto/Child! Y/n (little cameo) They’re all the same age except Y/n.

Genre: Angst, hopeful, Sad, a bit haunting at the end idk how that happened, mysterious, fate

W.c: 2k9

Moral of the story: Don’t think like this kids. Life is very valuable tsk.

[a/n] pfft I’m back y’all. Y’all missed me? Lmao no one asked. I have arrived with another short piece to satisfy your masochistic selves. I had no Wi-Fi and I thought I wasn’t gonna live a normal life. I was also a lazy bean who promised to work out but ended up eating Danish bread. They’re really good ngl. I did not proofread this so I am sorry for the errors. Sleep deprived again. I didn’t proofread this, sorry.

edit: this is a repost. I don’t think this was sent properly.

Little sparks emerged from the blazing mixture of red and orange. The colour of fiery and passion. But in the middle, there was a vibrant colour of yellow. Even if a person is angry and the things they do will not go as passionate, there’s always a little bit of hope. That was what Sakusa interpreted as he observed the fire. The ashy smoke floated upward into the sky and turned invisible where they will not be seen again. That is what they want, right? Just to die out...

“I’m going to find some more wood,” Bokuto said out of the blue and stood up from the barky log he just sat on. Hinata got a fright that he almost fell off of his side of the log. Bokuto then ran towards the darkened woods. Hinata’s eyes widened. He scuttled backwards and jogged into the woods, just to make sure he doesn’t wander off. Just to make sure he’s safe.

“Kotaro, wait up!” he shouted and the woods mimicked his voice of worry. It was a cold night. A blanket of navy covered the sky with a sprinkle of shimmering stars.

“I hope they don’t get lost. I heard that this is the largest forest in our area or perhaps the whole country,” the blonde head muttered. His fingers fiddling on to silver key necklace dearest to his heart. It was a gift given by his grandma just the day before her decease. That day felt like the day he lost a true friend. Sakusa stared into the sky. To become one of those shiny sequences high up the vast navy.

Small, slender, slim sticks were thrown into the fire by Atsumu. His eyes granted no mercy as he stared at them burning in the little hell he created. Sakusa could see the reflection of the fire in his chocolate eyes. Knowing the reason, he sighed. It conveyed his feelings. His pent up fury.

The long silence was interrupted by a trivial question. “Have you ever thought of what you want to become as you grow older?” Atsumu wondered. He had never really heard or knew much about Sakusa despite having each other’s presence in existence for a while. He blinked, his long lashes brushed through the air. “I don’t know,” he simply replied. His voice so curt that Atsumu’s feelings were hurt. He clutched his heart with a pain expression to emphasise the dramatic. “Omi kun, y’know that’s not the answer I want,” he whined at him. There he goes again, Sakusa thought.  

Atsumu hummed as he looked at the fire “Y’know.., it has always been my dream to become an astronaut. What do ya think Omi kun?” Sakusa scrunched his face at the thought. “What should I think??” The only responsive thought he had for that confession was that it was unbelievable to be true. He thought he wanted to become a volleyball player and join the national team. Maybe get the hot girlfriend of his dreams while he’s at it. But an astronaut? Does he even have the grad-?

“Haha if only I had the grades. I can see it right through you Omi kun,” he smirked as he pointed the stick at him held by his fingers. “To bad I’m not a smartass like my twin brother. Such a nerd without glasses,” he murmured at the mentions of his twin.

“Achieving high grades doesn’t make you a stereotypical ne-“

“I said what I said, Omi kun. I said what I said”

Sakusa stayed quiet after that. He had nothing else to add after that mild conversation. His eyes lingered at the book lying on the grassy ground. Atsumu’s five year old diary. To this day, he still remembered the contents inked in those pages. Hinata and Bokuto saw them as well. He pitied Atsumu, but dared not to speak a word of it. In that diary, Atsumu undergone what you call affliction. Even now, it still disturbed them.

Beside them, they set up a telescope that they had recently bought. They got it after dodging that expensive price. Bokuto’s bargaining skills were useful. The trees waved side to side with the gusting wind. Sakusa’s dark curls wavered. They’ve always wanted to see the stars together. Earlier this day, they heard from the news that there was going to be a shooting star passing earth. It was very exciting as no one would ever expect to see something like this in their time of life.

There was a lot of things around their temporary property. Tents set up, sleeping bags, coats, stocks of food and drinks, you name it. They fully decided that they would never ever come back home. All of them hated where they came from. It just wasn’t for them.

At around five or six in the evening, the four of them were in school cleaning up toilets and classrooms. This was Sakusa’s nightmare. His duty was in the boys’ toilet. All the grime, stench, dirtiness tainted each cubicle he entered. He felt like regurgitating, but if he was going to faint, at least faint outside the bathroom. Nonetheless, he pushed through this hell and managed it somehow.

Suddenly, a burning smell wavered through the air and entered his nostrils, sending him to alarm. He rushed out of the boys’ bathrooms. His eye’s enlarged at the sight of flames eating the corridors. His mouth gaped as he stood petrified. What in the world?

Someone grabbed his wrist and pulled him away from danger. Sakusa turned around to see it was Bokuto. His heart was racing as he tried to process what the fuck just occurred. “Kotaro, what on earth is going on?!” He didn’t answer for a while until they’ve reached outside the burning school.

“It was Atsumu’s doing. He threw a cigarette in the bin and the bin caught on fire!” Bokuto used his arms to demonstrate the fire. Sakusa glared at Atsumu and grabbed him by the collar. “I know you hate this fucking place, but did you have to fucking burn down the school!?” Atsumu shoved him away from him. “So what if I fucking did?!” Sakusa’s eyes were filled with anger. Who goes to this extent from hatred? Especially from a teenager.

“You… YOU BASTARD!” he cursed at his selfishness. A punch swung onto Atsumu’s face and he fell to the ground in an instant. The blond head swiped the blood off his busted lips and gave him a deadly glare. Oh if looks could kill…He collided into Sakusa causing him to cough out his saliva. Therefore, a dog fight transpired between them. Sakusa had no care for the dirt sticking on to him as his only goal was to knock some god damn sense into Atsumu’s brain.

Hinata panicked and attempts to pull Atsumu away while Bokuto did the same for Sakusa. “Look we tried to extinguish it with a fire extinguisher! But it…it just wouldn’t work at all!” Hinata explained while he still held onto Atsumu. Sakusa’s brows furrowed. “Then what the fuck did you do then?” All three of them looked at each other. “We ditched it,” Bokuto shrugged his shoulders “It would go out”

Sakusa groaned in his clammy palms. Oh my fucking god…Since this happened, what’s gonna happen to them? Will they all get in to trouble? Obviously. Should they just mention that it was Atsumu’s fault and he shall bear the consequence? Or should all of them step out and stay along with the blond retard? Everyone remained quiet. Sirens were heard and police cars and fire brigade were approaching their way.

“Do you just want to go home and pack our stuffs secretly? We can buy that telescope we all wanted and watch the shooting star that’s coming tonight….”

And that’s how they ended up here, in the meadow deep into the woods where no one will find them. If they decided to give up on them, just like how the others would. Sakusa admitted that it was a beautiful scenery. Atsumu and he didn’t fight anymore. What’s done has been done. Everything happens for a reason.

Hinata and Bokuto arrived with more sticks cradled in their arms. They were dropped onto the beryl green grass. After that, Hinata plopped down and his chest heaving up and down “Oi no more. I’m tired from running around,” he waved his hand at him without looking at Bokuto. The owl-like man plastered a huge grin on his face “You lack strength, Chibi chan. C’mon toughen up those muscles,” Bokuto wacked his shoulders that sent Chibi forward. They laughed. Only the corner of Sakusa’s lips curved.

Boys in pain come together to diminish those pains.

A spark occurred in the middle of the dark sky. Hinata noticed this first and mirthfully swore “Guys I see it!” All of them ran to the telescope, even having little arguments of who should go first. It ended up being Atsumu. The rest of them quietened down and all they could do was admire. It was absolutely spectacular without a doubt. Not only was one shooting star but there a shower of them. A celebration perhaps?

“There’s so many of them! We should make a wish,” Hinata encouraged. All of them clasped their hands together with their eyes closed. Sakusa joined and he wished that he would have a happy life. That was all he wanted.  

“Atsumu…”

“……”

“Atsumu… is that other shooting star approaching us or am I losing my mind?” Hinata asked worriedly. His knees shook like jelly. “Atsumu...” His body quivered with uncontrollable nervousness. Atsumu didn’t say anything back but gulped. “Well aren’t you going to answer us?” Bokuto asked with a lump in his throat.

Sakusa gazed up, following the track of the star before it split into two after crashing a certain part of the atmosphere. He knew. Everyone knew, that it was bound to reach them any minute.

“Will be able to get out of here in time?” Bokuto asked fretfully, brushing his hands through his grey strands. It wouldn’t be called a shooting star anymore. It was meteorite. The little thing drew closer and closer each time they blinked.

They just knew they wouldn’t make it out in time…

Atsumu sighed. “I’m staying here. I have nothing in this world to live for,” he gazed up and muttered as salty essence well up his chocolate eyes. He said it quietly, yet it was enough to be understood. He walked around a log and sat down with his head hung low. It was getting closer. Hinata swiftly sat beside him with his arms wrapped around him. His eyes closed “I’m staying with you. Staying with you until the end. Who knows we might end up somewhere beautiful. A magical land called Us”

When he said those words, a tear rolled down from Sakusa’s glistening ebony orbs. All of them wanted that. For a long time. A magical land called Us. This world gave them so much pain to the point that they had to imagine a wonderful world.

Bokuto, who used to use happiness to shield his sadness, embraced the both of them. The three of them cuddled. Some sniffles and sobs were heard from their trembling lips. Sakusa patted the left side of his chest. He was breathing quite heavily. This was most emotion he had ever displayed.  All of them turned their heads to face him. Atsumu’s arm stretched out. He smiled wearily “Come with us”

A lot of thought rushed through his mind. His head went racing. Was this the right choice? Was this what he wanted? What he if he still want to liv-

Before he could move a muscle, a bright, yellowish light flared behind them. His eyes reflected the light. Everything happened so fast and after that, they…. vanished. Long forgotten in this world.

 -

 “A lot of things have happened during this week. Firstly, the “shooting star” also known as a meteorite, crashed in the meadow of (xxx) wood, the largest in this country. No one has expected this phenomenon to split into two and destroy so much nature. Even almost damaging some parts of nearby towns. Another talked about topic, is the burned down school at (xxx) province with four boys that attended that school, missing…”

 The little girl watched the enormous meteorite from afar. “Wah it’s huge,” she said as she dangled her tiny little legs. An ice cream was in her hands as she watched the workers inspecting the rock. Maybe they could extract minerals and become filthy rich. She took a lick of the ice cream. The wind was howling that evening. She enjoyed a vanilla ice cream during cold season.

“Y/n, come here!”

Her mother yelled. Y/n shouldn’t be out in the open. It was too dangerous, who knows what will happen. Y/n stood up from the edge of a cliff and admired the amber sky before realizing her ice cream dropped to the ground. Her mouth gaped in disbelief. She paid for that using her own money by collecting reusable garbage for hours. She exhaled and tossed the cone away.

“Y/n!”

“I’m coming mom. I’m coming,” she called back. She dusted her hands off her skirt and jogged on. There was a valley close by so she needed to be cautious otherwise she might roll off the cliff and that wouldn’t be good. However, as she took another step, her foot slipped and her face fell flat on the ground. Blood dripped down from her nostrils. “Great…”

Luckily for her, she had an extra packet of tissue deep in her pocket. She took a tissue out and wiped the blood off that dried. All of a sudden, from the corner of her eyes, she caught something shining in the grass. Curiosity aroused her and she moved closer to the object. Mother told her that she shouldn’t take or even touch something that’s not hers. It could bring bad luck.

Y/n didn’t remember her mother’s words when she picked it up. It was a silver necklace that took the shape of a key. “Wow…” she mumbled. It had a simple design to it, yet to her it was the most beautiful thing she had seen that day. The wind blew even harder as the wind whistled.

“Y/n! If you don’t come this instant, I will leave you here,” her mother called out for what seemed like the last time. Y/n shoved the object into her pocket and rushed to her parent. She shuddered. How cold was it? She wrapped her arms around her and rubbed for heat.

“Y/n, what happened to your nose?”

“I just fell”

“That’s karma for not listening to me for the first time. I just fell”

“MOM”

 -

 So this was what the afterlife looked like? It looked the same as their world, yet maybe more magical. In this world, there was only the four of them and no one else. It had everything they needed. It was tranquilized. The trees consisted of wisteria. All of their stuff that they had with them before their very last breaths was placed exactly the same way, same place. However, the boys weren’t there.

A burning door stood in the middle of the meadow. All of them watched it, sitting down with bittersweet smiles on their faces. Was it worth it after all? Atsumu was the first one to hop off his position and run out into the wild. His appearance changed. He took the form of a little boy and had a book about stars in his hands. Ten years of age. The last time he felt a sense of happiness before all crashed down. Hinata turned back to a fifteen year old and Bokuto, a twelve year old. It made Sakusa feel old. He remained the same after all their transformations. A seventeen year old.

The last time he felt happy was just a few months ago. Despite that, he never really intended to die. It was just a last minute wish he made that he regretted. He believed to have many things to do on his bucket list. It was too late somehow and he thought that this new life wasn’t bad after all. He could maybe tick them all of in this afterlife.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a necklace. His brows furrowed at it and he leaned forward to capture it. Now it laid on his palm and began his inspection. It was an open door with no handle… He gulped. What was the meaning of this? If he was being honest, Atsumu didn’t have his grandma’s necklace with him. He started connecting the dots.

The fire stopped burning the door. He looked up and moved backwards. It was dark and the atmosphere couldn’t be anymore spookier. He whimpered and started to shake.

A little girl clad in a ripped strawberry dress. Her shoes dirtied. Her skin pale as snow. Her hair in a dishevelled state and her eyes were the worst. They were fully pitch black. And before Sakusa knew it, he ran as fast as he could and…

…never turned back.

The shooting star, after all, just granted their wishes. Without them knowing the consequences…

[gemstoneconstellations]

Angel with a shotgun part 1

Summary: Bakugo is currently on medical leave due to a recent villain attack. While going through the process of being cleared, Kirishima asks him for a favor and it leads to more than Bakugo asked for.

Wordcount: 6576

  “No.”

“Come on! It’s just me watching him this week! Please!”  

“I said fucking no.”

“Fujio loves you! He would be so excited to see his Uncle Suki pick him up!”  

Bakugo’s eyebrow twitched hearing the name Kirishima’s brat called him. “I’m not his uncle…” 

“Bro, come on! I won’t get there in time to get him! And you aren’t doing anything since-”  

“Okay! Fucking fine!” Bakugo hung up on Kirishima before he could continue. He knew what that hair-for-brains was going to say. Bakugo looked down at the thick wraps around his arms and hands, glaring at them like he could scare his injuries away like he did with villains. He had been put on rest after using his quirk too much and causing internal damage to his nerves and muscles. After winning his last fight, he’d fallen to the ground from the intense pain in his arms and shoulders.

For days, he’d lain in a hospital bed, unable to move his fingers without any pain. He was finally discharged and had to do physical therapy in order to be cleared to continue hero work… for the next three fucking months.

Bakugo threw on his shoes and stepped out into the cool spring air. He took a deep breath, realizing that he’d needed a breath of fresh air. “I guess picking up the fucking brat is better than sitting around doing shit.”

Looking up at the night sky, Bakugo thought about the reason he was out at 9:30 at night. Three years ago, Kirishima’s first son, Fujio, was born. The little shit was just like his dad, clinging to him for no apparent reason and constantly annoying him. And, though, Bakugo would never admit it out loud, he actually liked the mini hair-for-brains. It’s especially fun to teach the kid different ways of using curse words so Kirishima would get in trouble with his wife. What will he teach him tonight?

A mischievous grin grew on his face as he walked down the street with his hands in his pockets. No one was around to see him but he still pulled up his hood just in case; he didn’t want to be delayed by some stupid fans that couldn’t take a hint. He quickened his steps as he passed people,  making his way to the stupid daycare.

Bakugo made it to the daycare in 30 minutes on foot; he sent Kirishima a quick text that he was there and would be staying at Kirishima’s house for the night since his house was closer than Bakugo’s. Then he stepped inside,  squinting his eyes as they adjusted to the light. When they finally did, what he saw made him want to turn away in disgust.

The place was covered in sickeningly cheerful and bright decorations. Everything smiled. Even the fucking flowers and clouds… He rolled his eyes, hoping to get out of there as soon as possible. “Oi, I’m here to pick up Kirishima Fujio.” Bakugo shouted down the hall for a worker. No one came… Bakugo’s shoulders dropped as he groaned up at the ceiling. “Fucking fine.”

Kicking off his shoes, Bakugo shuffled down the hall to where a door marked “Toddlers 3-4” was and opened it. He opened his mouth to yell but instantly bit his tongue when he saw the room had a few children asleep on mats. Bakugo was an asshole, but not that big of an asshole.

He was looking around the room for someone who worked there when the door to the bathroom opened and a little girl stepped out with a woman wearing an apron covered in cartoon characters. “Do you feel better now Ai-chan?” A gentle voice whispered through the room. The little girl looked up at the worker, tears in her eyes as she shook her head. “Would you like to hear a story?”

The worker picked her up and before she could turn around to see Bakugo, he backed up into the hall and hid behind the door. “Wait, why did I hide?” Bakugo whispered to himself. He peeked around the corner to see the worker with the little girl in her lap in a rocking chair, holding a children’s book out in front of them.

“‘Once there was a lion asleep in the forest, his great head resting on his paws. A timid mouse came upon him unexpectedly…’” Bakugo found himself leaning against the doorframe, listening to the stupid story. That voice was so…soothing. He watched the woman gently caress the child’s head as she read effortlessly. He could have sworn she was glowing as she read to the child, her gentle voice soothing her nerves and putting her to sleep. It was even beginning to work on him, as he felt his eyes becoming heavy.

“Um, excuse me?” Bakugo’s eyes shot wide open as a voice came from beside him. He turned around with a glare, startling the woman behind him. She clutched onto her bag as she took a step back. “C-can I help you?”

“You work here?” She gave him a quick nod. “I’m here for Fujio; the name’s Bakugo. I’m under the approved list.” She quickly ran into the room and spoke to the other worker in the rocking chair, whispering in her ear. The one with the angelic voice smiled and pointed to one of the children on the floor.

The jumpy caregiver came over with a child wrapped in their blanket and handed them over to Bakugo. He looked down to see messy black hair as Fujio’s sleepy face came into view. “Hmmm, Uncle Suki.” He smiled up at Bakugo before hugging him and falling back asleep. Luckily for the brat, he didn’t have Shitty Hair’s shark week teeth, but more prominently sharp canine teeth that kind of reminded Bakugo of dog.

“Um, h-have a good night.” The jumpy worker bowed; Bakugo just grunted at them. He was about to leave when he made eye contact with the caregiver in the rocking chair. She gave him the same smile she’d given the child now asleep in her lap, raising her hand to wave him goodbye.

And for some unknown reason… he waved back as he left.

“Uncle Suki… where’s Daddy?” Fujio looked up from Bakugo’s shoulder, his small hands clutching onto his shirt.

Bakugo hummed, rubbing the small back. “Hair-for-brains got stuck at work.”

Fujio closed his eyes, accepting the explanation; he was used to it by now. Thankfully, there were daycares that accommodated pro-hero parents and other social servants, or else Kirishima and his wife would have been in a tough bind. “I want you to pick me up tomorrow. I wanna play Heroes with you.” Bakugo smirked at the kid as he yawned.

“Sure, now shut up and sleep already. You’ll be home soon.” Fujio relaxed in Bakugo’s hold, his small breaths becoming shallow and even. Okay, maybe he liked the kid a lot. Bakugo let out a yawn himself. “Man, now I’m sleepy. What the hell?”

~

Bakugo was sound asleep, comfy on Kirishima’s big, fluffy couch. Until something roughly 30 pounds landed square on his stomach fucking screaming, “UNCLE SUKI! WAAAAAAAKE UP! TIME TO GET UP, YOU SLEEPYHEAD! LET’S PLAY! LET’S PLAY!” Bakugo glared at the little shit who was jumping on him like he was his goddamned rocking horse.

“No, go back to sleep, you little shit.” Bakugo easily picked up the brat by his shirt and dropped him on the floor before rolling over to face away from him.

Fujio pouted, whining, “Mommy said you can’t call me that.”

“Well Mommy ain’t here to catch me, now is she?” Bakugo looked back at the pouting child, smirking before he laid back down.

Bakugo listened to the small thuds of the kid’s feet as he ran away from him. Finally, back to sleep. “Daddy! When is Mommy coming home?”

“Not till next week, my little dude. Is Uncle Suki being mean again?” Bakugo’s eye twitched at hearing the disgustingly sweet tone Kirishima used with his son. “Will playing Deku’s theme song cheer you up?”

“Yeah! Deku! Deku!”

“YOU BETTER FUCKING NOT! I AIN’T LISTENING TO THAT SHITTY NERD’S SHITTY SONG!!”

Kirishima stood in his kitchen, holding his son with a smug grin on his face as Bakugo stood on the couch screaming. If his arms didn’t still hurt, small explosions would have been going off in his hands. “Oh good, you’re up. Want some breakfast? I made pancakes.”

Fujio held up his tiny arms. “I mixed the batter! And poured your pancakes on the stove!”

“Fucking fine!” Bakugo jumped off the couch, grumbling about Shitty Hair One and Two being twice as annoying as ever. He sat at the table, leaning back with his hands in his pockets. Kirishima placed Fujio down on his booster chair before going back to dish out the food.

“Pancakes~ Pancakes~ Pancakes~.” Fujio swayed his little body excitedly at the table, singing the word over and over.

Kirishima just chuckled as he placed Fujio and Bakugo’s plates down in front of them. Bakugo frowned at the weirdly-shaped and different sized pancakes in front of him. It kind of looked like he’d just thrown the batter on, not really caring about what he was doing. “What the hell is this?”

Fujio looked up from watching Kirishima put syrup on his food. “It’s your ex-exsploosions! Boom boom!” He held up his hands in Bakugo’s face with a big smile and then began to laugh.

“Alright kiddo, your food is ready to be devoured!” Kirishima placed a children’s fork in one of Fujio’s hands. He quickly stabbed one of the pancakes, lifting the whole thing to take a wild bite out of it. Definitely Kirishima’s kid… “Fujio said you seemed sad lately so he wanted to make you something that would make you happy. He said your explosions always make you smile so he wanted the pancakes to look like them.”

Bakugo let out a big sigh and held out his hand. “Give me the fucking syrup.” Kirishima gave him a knowing look as he handed Bakugo the syrup before turning back to his son.

“Yummy! Mr. Lion is good!” Fujio cheered with the pancake still on his fork. That’s when Bakugo noticed that his pancake was in the shape of a lion. He looked over to see that the other pancake was in the shape of a mouse.

Kirishima noticed where Bakugo’s eyes were looking as he took a sip of his coffee. “Fujio said he learned the story of the Lion and the Mouse yesterday and wanted his pancakes in the shape of them. You really liked that story, huh?”

The little boy nodded quickly, shoving more food in his mouth. “Yesh, sinth-” The boy paused when his dad gave him a look that most fathers seemed to know how to make and swallowed his food before continuing talking. Kirishima nodded and motioned for him to keep talking. “Ms. ____ was reading. I like it when Ms. ___ reads. She’s nice! And she gives the best hugs!”

“Was that the chick from last night?” Kirishima looked up at Bakugo in confusion. Did Bakugo just ask that? Really?

“Yeah! She always reads to us when we go to sleep.” Fujio shoved more food into his mouth.

Bakugo grunted and started to eat his food. Kirishima was still looking at him in disbelief. “What?” Bakugo raised an annoyed eyebrow at him.

Kirishima cleared his throat and shook his head. “Nothing. Fujio hurry up and eat, I’ll be taking you to daycare soon, okay?”

“Okay!” Fujio held up his fork in the air before slamming it down into the other poor, innocent pancake.

“I can watch the brat today.” Bakugo motioned to Fujio with his cup of orange juice before guzzling half of it.

Kirishima’s jaw dropped. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with Bakugo?” Bakugo has never willingly offered to watch Fujio before.

“Shut up. It’s like you said: I don’t have anything else better to do. Plus, I promised to play with him yesterday in exchange for him to go to sleep. I know he won’t stop bugging about it till I do.” Bakugo looked to the side as he ate more of his pancakes.

Translation: he wanted to hang out with Fujio today.

This was just too good to pass up. Kirishima couldn’t help but tease Bakugo. “Awe, you hear that Fujio? Uncle Suki here wants to play with you today!”

Fujio’s eyes widened as he looked back and forth between the two men excitedly. “Yay! We gonna play Heroes and he’s going to teach me how to kill fucktards!”

Kirishima’s smile instantly dropped and he looked back at Bakugo in horror. Bakugo let out a large laugh, slapping a hand against the table. “This kid is the fucking best!”

“Bakugooooo! You’re going to get me in trouble again!”

~

You were walking down the street, humming a Disney song that was stuck in your head. “Good afternoon ma’am.” You smiled at an elderly woman as you walked by her small sweets shop.

“Good afternoon to you dear. You are as bright and cheerful as always, I see.” She chuckled at you as she waved.

Your smile just widened as you added a bit more of a skip to your step. “How could I not when it’s such a wonderful day out? Spring is finally here and I love it!” Plus, your quirk was affecting you a bit, so you couldn’t help feeling happier.

Your therapy sessions with your clients have been going great; some of the kids have even graduated from your course and are moving on to the next level. You were so proud of those kids; you’d decided to go get them all gifts to congratulate them. As you skipped by the park, your ears perked up at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Alright! Quirk on! Harden! Go? Ugh!” A deep growly laugh filled the park. “Uncle Suki! Stop laughing!” Your smile widened; that was the voice of the adorable little Fujio! You promptly walked into the park to find him.

There was an ash-blonde man on the ground, holding his stomach as he tried to catch his breath. He was literally rolling on the ground laughing. You noticed that both of his arms were covered in bandages. Fujio stomped his feet in distress. “Uncle Suki! This is serious! What if I don’t get it?”

The sight of the child pouting his lips and stomping on the ground just made the man laugh even more. “Man, you are just like your dad.” Sitting up, he placed a hand on the small boy’s shoulder. Fujio looked even smaller when standing beside this man. “You have a quirk, it’s just still growing. Trust me. There is no way you don’t have a quirk. Your dad is strong, I should know. I trained with him and practically carried him throughout our school days. And your mom…don’t tell her I said this, but she’s badass and her quirk makes her even more badass.”

Fujio seemed to grow more confident and gave the man a quick nod. “Uncle Suki… can you set me on fire?”

“What?!” Both you and the man yelled. Why on Earth…

Fujio turned around to see you. “Ms. ____!” He ran as fast as he could to slam his body into your legs; you almost fell over from the unexpected force.

Gently, you stroked through the straight black hair on the boy’s head. He looked up at you with a toothy grin. So cute~ He was like a little puppy. “Hello Fujio. Are you out having fun with…” You looked up at the ash-blonde man, who had made his way over to the two of you. His hands were in his pockets and he had a scowl on his face as he eyed you, like you were some kind of threat.

“This is Uncle Suki! He fights bad guys with my daddy! But he’s playing with me today!” Fujio cheered and began to run around his uncle.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his silliness. Holding out your hand, you began to introduce yourself. “Hello, my name is ___ ___; I work at Fujio’s daycare. It’s nice to meet you.” It seemed like his guard was up and you waited patiently for him to grab your hand.

You were pleasantly surprised as he slowly he placed a bandaged hand in yours. “Bakugo Katsuki.” Despite how he looked, you couldn’t feel any hostility coming off of him. Your tense smile eased into a natural one as you looked him in the eyes, taking note of their ruby color.

“Do you wanna play with us?” You looked down at Fujio. His eyes were pleading desperately; ugh, your heart strings.

As much as you would love to play with one of your favorite kids, you still had things to do. Releasing Bakugo’s hand, you bent down to Fujio’s level. “I’m sorry sweetie, but I have errands to run. I have to buy a few gifts for some kids.”

He pouted for a moment but then his smile bounced back. “Oh oh, I can help! Can I help? My Daddy says it’s a man’s job to help others in need, so I need to help people to become a man like him!” Fujio posed, flexing muscles that he didn’t quite have yet. You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Excuse me? You forget about me?” Bakugo pointed at himself, irritated.

“Oh, Uncle Suki can help too! He can carry a lot!”

You looked back at Bakugo, who began to sputter. “No! Fuck that! We got shit to do.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do!”

“Nuh uh, you said to my daddy you didn’t have anything to do today. That’s why I’m with you and not at daycare.” Bakugo bent down and covered his face in his hands as he let out a loud, frustrated groan. You had to turn away as you tried to hold in a snort. He was completely and utterly cornered… by a three year old. Fujio quickly grabbed your hand and started pulling you out of the park. “Uncle Suki, you need to get up or else we are going to leave you behind.”

You looked back to see Bakugo’s head shoot up and then get up, dragging his feet towards you guys. “Oi, listen here you fucking brat…”

It would seem you had some gentlemen to help you out, even though one of them was unwilling and had been bullied into it. Fujio was singing a tune as he led you and Bakugo. Other than the sweet little voice, it was silent. Your eyes wandered to the ash-blonde. I wonder what happened to his arms   . The bandages were wrapped around the palms of his hands and went up all the way to his shoulders. Did they go underneath his hoodie? That’s when you realized that he was looking at you too, making direct eye contact. “Um…”

“I overused my quirk. This is what happens when you go beyond your limits. I’ll be fine though.” He looked back at Fujio and told him which direction to go for the toy store.

“Hero work?”

“Yup.”

“You win?”

He looked over to you with a wickedly smug grin and held up a fist. “Of fucking course I did. I never lose.”

Pfft, you couldn’t help but laugh at the confidence in his voice. Though you are pretty sure other people would have been put off by how deranged that smirk looked. “Have I heard of this ever victorious hero?”

His grin dropped and went back to his resting scowl. “Probably…” You didn’t push it after that; his defense seemed to be back up again. Hero work must be a touchy subject for him right now, probably from being injured and likely not being able to work.  “So whose kids are you buying shit for?”

And he was changing the subject. “I’m a quirk therapist. I help kids who have recently developed their quirks. During the day at the daycare, I have sessions with the older kids. Some of my kids have shown great control over their quirks and are in a sense graduating from my program. I want to give them a reward.” He nodded along to what you were saying; despite how he looked and his curt behavior, he  really seemed interested

“That’s definitely something kids need nowadays.” You eyed him as he put his hands behind his head. It sounded like he genuinely thought that… so weird.  Most people questioned if that was really something worth doing since kids can be quite unpredictable. “So why were you there at night?”

“Hmm?”

“I saw you last night, reading to the kids. Fujio says you always read them stories at night.” He motioned to the small child, who was intently deciding which store you guys should enter.

You raised an eyebrow at him and then remembered the man who had picked up Fujio last night and had been standing outside the door. “Oh, that was you last night. Why were you just standing there? You could have come in, you know?”

Bakugo sputtered. “You saw me?!” You jumped at the sudden loudness of his voice as he turned to you with wide eyes and cheeks slightly pink.

“Uh yesss?” Were you not supposed to?

The ash-blonde grunted as he quickened his steps to catch up with Fujio, who had motioned for you two to walk faster. “I… spaced out okay?” He muttered into his hand. You tilted your head, questioning him. “You… started reading… and you were glowing… and your voice… it’s angelic…” His face became redder with each word and he sunk his head lower between his shoulders, as though he could hide inside of his hoodie if he tried hard enough.

“Oh-oh… well I do glow when I use my quirk. I can touch someone and help them calm down.” This seemed to make him raise his head at you, his blush gone.

“So, it was your quirk that did that?” He looked somewhat relieved, but the thing is…

“My quirk doesn’t affect my voice though… it only works by touch.” His blush came back instantly as he realized what you meant by that. “Um, thank you for the compliment though.”

He grunted at you; it would seem that conversation was over between the two of you. “Hey, look! There’s toys!” Fujio jumped up and down, pointing at a toy store that was currently hosting a sale.

~

Bakugo stood back and watched as you and Fujio sorted through some toys. It’s odd. Usually Bakugo would have his guard up till he knew for sure that it was safe, but with you… you just smiled at him and before he’d even noticed, he’d moved his arm and was shaking your hand. He never willingly shook someone’s hand unless he absolutely had to. Maybe it was because Fujio trusts you? And listening to your voice, man that shit was addicting. There was something about it that really struck a chord with him.  

“What do you think Bakugo? One of the kids really likes dragons.”

He was brought back to reality as you presented him with a small stuffed dragon. His eyes narrowed at it. It looked well made but it was too…cute to be a dragon. “I would want something more…vicious. It really depends on the little shit. Do they like cute things or-” Looking back up at you, he saw your eyes widened with surprise. “What?”

You shook your head. “I was just surprised that you seriously thought about it. Guys that I shop with always say things like, ‘It’s fine’ or ‘Are you done yet?’”

“Well, I’m not like most fucking guys. And you know, most women at this point start to fucking lecture me about cursing or leave hating me.” He looked around the toy section and found another dragon; this one had claws and sharp teeth. Much cooler. He tossed it at you. “There, if the kid likes cute shit, go with the first one, but if they are into badass toys, that’s the dragon you need.”

You chuckled, holding the dragons close to your chest. “I think I’ll go with the badass one.” Bakugo swallowed as he saw this new smile spread across your face; it was somehow different from before… he was beginning to feel…bashful? What the fuck? And hearing you curse, oh yeah he liked that… “And yes, I am not like most women. So I guess we have something in common. I think cursing is just another way of expressing emotions; the key is knowing when it is okay to use it or not to use it.”

Bakugo nodded and opened his mouth to say something when Fujio came running over. “Uncle Suki! Look, I found you!” Fujio bounced over, holding a Ground Zero doll over his head. Shit…

Now you were looking between him and the doll, he could see the moment it clicked in your head. “You’re Ground Zero?” He rushed over to cover your mouth, but it was too late.

“Ground Zero?”

“Oh my god, Ground Zero is here?!”

“Where is he?”

Fans started running over as the news spread that Ground Zero was here. “Craaaap.” Bakugo quickly picked you and Fujio up, throwing you over his shoulder and Fujio under his arm like a football. “We gotta go.” Bakugo began to run out of the store.

“Wait! I didn’t pay!”

“Worry about that shit later! We need to get the fuck out of here!” Bakugo ran faster as his fans shouted his hero name. His eyes scanned for escape routes. An alleyway came up and he ran right through it, knocking over a few items as he did.

They made it to a street full of restaurants. “Hey, that’s the fish place Mommy and Daddy like!” Fujio innocently pointed out a sushi restaurant. That could work.

Bakugo made a mad rush to the restaurant at the sound of voices behind him. He slammed the sliding door shut, panting. The hostess and other people in the restaurant gave them all shocked and awed looks. “I need… a… private room… for three… now!”

“Please!” You shouted from his shoulder.

“Um… right this way.”

~

“Ooh that one, I want that one!” Fujio pointed at the sushi that lay before him. “The one with the little sticky thingies.” You giggled as you put sushi on a small plate for Fujio as he pointed out each one he wanted. Fujio was bouncing up and down, leaning on the table and shaking it.

Bakugo pressed a hand on the kid’s head and pushed him down into a sitting position on the floor. “Oi, sit your ass down and wait!”

“Ooookaaaaaay!” Fujio stayed in his spot between the two of you and waited like he was told.

Gently placing the plate down in front of him, you caressed his head and motioned for him to dig in. “What do you say, brat?”

The little boy had already shoved two octopus nigiri into his mouth by the time he remembered what he was supposed to say. “Thanfooo fo tha fooood.” He then continued to stuff his face.

Bakugo shook his head at him as he placed a piece of sushi in his own mouth. “Good enough, I guess.”

You looked over at Bakugo as you ate quietly. So this is the explosion hero without his mask. He isn’t much different personality-wise outside of his costume. Probably should have recognized that smirk from earlier; it’s been all over the media for years now. “So, I’m having lunch with the number seven hero, huh?”

“And?” He eyed you as he reached for the spicy tuna.

You gave him a shrug, leaning over and sliding the plate closer to him. “I never thought that would ever happen, especially in this kind of situation.” You motioned down at the little boy. “Sure, I’ve met plenty of heroes, but I can’t say I’ve met anyone from the top 10.” He grunted in response. “I can see why you didn’t want to tell me, from the look on your face when the fans started swarming you. Didn’t want to deal with fans while you are recovering, I get it.”

“That wasn’t it…” Bakugo grumbled into his cup.

You tilted your head, about to ask what he meant when you felt something lay on your lap. “Ah, full.” Fujio patted his stomach happily. “Ms. ___, can we play together again?”

Such a sweet boy. You stroke his head as his eyes seemed to become heavy. “Don’t we play together all the time at daycare?”

He let out a little yawn, rubbing his eyes. Fujio was losing the battle against sleep. “No… I mean you and me and Uncle Suki.” Oh, your heart strings.

“Sure. We can do that. If you want to take a little nap, you can.” You caressed his cheek as he fell asleep with a small smile on his face. What a kind little boy; his parents are doing an excellent job with him.

“Oi, glow worm, turn off the lights.” You jump at the husky voice; Bakugo was giving you a weirdly conflicted look.

Glancing down, you saw that you were, in fact, glowing. “Oopsies. Sorry, that happens sometimes when I get really happy or excited. My endorphin levels go through the roof.”

He snorted into his drink as you took control of your quirk and ceased glowing. “You seem like the type who is always happy; you haven’t stopped fucking smiling once. Also, ‘Oopsies’   ?”

“Sorry, most parents aren’t okay with their daycare provider cursing in front of their children. It’s just a habit. And yes, I do get mad. My quirk just makes it more… intense. So I try to keep a positive attitude and a level-head, unlike someone.” You smirked at him as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Angel, I’m the definition of level-headed and I would pay to see this intense rage inside that happy-go-lucky body of yours.” He leaned in with a smirk, poking you in the forehead. “And his parents don’t mind the cursing; just don’t curse at him or call him a little shit. So I just don’t do it… when his mother is around. Wanna talk about intense rage? Her; she has made threats and has gone through with them. When I sleep, I sweat a lot so my bed is pretty much a bomb ready to be set off. She has lit a match and dropped it on my bed… twice. I’m an asshole, but I ain’t stupid.”

You hummed, stroking the sleeping child’s head. “But dumb enough for your bed to be set on fire twice.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but instead, gave you a shrug. “Not my finest hour, I’ll give you that. So what happens when you get mad? I usually blow everything up.”

“Don’t you usually do that anyway?” You laughed as he gave you a mischievous grin. “And to answer your question, I could be similar… to you in some ways. Just know, when my skin starts to dim, run.” You threw him your own mischievous grin.

Bakugo snorted, leaning back till he was lying on the floor with his hands behind his head. “The day your light dims is the day I shit fucking rainbows and glitter. You seem to be bright all the time, Angel. Even when you are being lugged around like a goddamn sack of potatoes and chased by a mob of fans. I almost lost my shit when you yelled ‘please’ from my shoulder.”

Both of you laughed quietly together. It was nice and from the look on his face, you think this is the first time he’s relaxed this much in a while. The mood suddenly shifted as his face became serious. “You know… the reason I ran, wasn’t because I didn’t want to deal with my fans… they all think I’m out on some kind of secret mission. Truth is, I was hurt pretty badly. Now I have to take a leave while I heal and attend physical therapy for three long-ass months… it sucks and I’m always on edge, itching to get back out there… but…” He let out a deep sigh as he shut his eyes. “I don’t want them to see me in this weak state and be… disappointed? I’m the unbeatable Ground Zero and even though I won against those guys… being this injured, I feel like I lost… Fuck, why am I even saying all this? I just met you.” He groaned as he sat up, looking you straight in the eyes.

You just smiled at him, feeling like that’s what he needed. A smile that understood him and that he could rely on. “I get that a lot; I naturally relax people since it’s my job. I have to give off the air of being someone that they can trust and talk to. I’m happy it worked on you.” As if on cue, you could see a small tint of a glow coming off your hands. You gently lowered Fujio to the floor and made your way to Bakugo. “You didn’t lose, these injuries are signs that you won. That you fought with everything you had to protect people. I’m sure your fans would be honored and worried for you all at the same time. Even though you are a bit rough around the edges, I’m sure everyone, myself included, thinks you are a winner.”

Bakugo kept eye contact with you the entire time but turned away from you when you said your last sentence. “You are so weird… but… thank you, for ya know.” His cheeks were tinted pink as he began to mumble his words.

You smirked at him. “I’m sorry, what was that?” He sighed and turned to face you.

“I said th-” He shut his mouth as soon as he saw the look on your face, his eyes registering realization for what you were doing. “Shut the fuck up. You fucking heard what I said. I’m not saying that shit again.”

~

Poke.  

“Boop.”

Poke.  

“Boop.”

Poke.  

Fujio has been poking Bakugo in the cheek and saying ‘boop’ as he did  for about ten minutes now. You are surprised that Bakugo hadn’t blown up…though he looked like he was about to. Another small finger reached over and pushed into his cheek. “GODDAMN IT! Will you fucking stop that?! I swear to God, I will throw you off my shoulders and you can walk yourself home!”

Fujio’s hand froze and he held tightly onto Bakugo’s hair. “No! I like being tall!”

“Then fucking stop!” These two are so cute and hilarious; your sides were beginning to hurt from trying to hold in your laughter. “Oi, glow worm, you think this is funny?” Bakugo glared at you; guess your body was giving you away.

“Oops, you caught me. I can’t help it.” You bite your lip as you noticed a small hand sneaking its way around Bakugo’s head.

Bakugo noticed too late as Fujio poked his nose and held his little finger there. “Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooo-”

In the middle of Fujio’s long boop, Bakugo muttered “Yes, they died.”

��-oooooooooooop.” He lifted his finger and did one more poke before resting his hands back on Bakugo’s head. “Boop.”

“Damn it, they lived.” You snorted at their antics. This is probably the most fun you have had in forever. It’s no wonder you keep glowing. “So where do you live?”

Looking over, Bakugo locked his eyes on you. “Oh, over there.” You pointed to some apartment complex a few blocks in front of you on the right. He grunted in response as he started walking down the street that would take you to your apartment. The rest of the walk was silent as Fujio had become sleepy again and fallen asleep with his body wrapped around Bakugo’s head. His head rested on top of Bakugo’s, his mouth wide open; he was most likely drooling onto the ash-blonde’s scalp.

After the moment between you and Bakugo, the two of you had finished the rest of your food and left the restaurant when Fujio woke up. Bakugo walked around with his hood up as you finished your shopping in another store. You thought about the two dragons that you had accidentally stolen with Bakugo. “I can’t believe we stole two toys…”

“What the fuck do you mean by ‘we’? You were the one who didn’t let go of the stupid toys when we had to run.” Bakugo grinned at you mischievously. “I should take you in; it’s a hero’s job to arrest criminals.”

You held your hands behind your back as you skipped ahead of him. “Then you are an accessory to theft, since you were the getaway driver.” You spun around to face him, sticking your tongue out.

He looked at you with wide-eyes before smirkig again, walking past you. “I guess then we both have to keep it a secret, to uphold our image.”

“I guess so.” You followed him. He was a very interesting man, not what you expected at all from everything you’d heard from TV and gossip mags. Though that tough bad boy vibe was very much true, he was actually pretty kind and even gentle towards Fujio. Bakugo stopped at a fork in the road and gave you a questioning look. “Ah, and this is where we part ways. Here.” You hand him a bag that had one of the stolen dragons in it. “A symbol of the secret pact we made.”

Bakugo took the bag as he reached into his pocket and handed you a cell phone. “Put your number in. The brat wants to play again so I have to be able to contact you.” Oh, he’s really going to do it? “Oi, the glow thing is getting brighter and more annoying.” He covered his eyes with one of his hands.

“Sorry, I was just so happy and excited that you want to invite me to your guys’ playdates.” You calmed yourself as you typed your number into his phone and called yourself. Once your phone started to ring, you hung up. “There, now I have your number too.” Your smile kept getting bigger; your face began to hurt. You’d had so much fun today. You are sure you will next time too. “If you don’t call me and I find out you guys went off and had fun without me, I might just stop glowing.”

He took his phone from you and snorted. “Don’t tempt me.” Placing his phone back in his pocket, he turned to start walking the opposite way as you.  You began to turn as well but stopped when you heard his voice again. “You don’t have to worry, Angel. I’ll call you.” He looked at you over his shoulder.

You giggled and flashed him one more smile before heading towards your apartment. “I’m not, I trust you. I’ll see you around, Ground Zero.”

Later that night, you got an all caps text from Bakugo, complaining about you giving him the cutesy dragon instead of the badass dragon and wanting to trade. You sent him a response saying no givesies backsies before going to bed. You chuckled when you heard your phone going off a couple times; can’t wait to see what kind of creative curse words you will read in the morning.

Part 2

[myinnerscarlett]

Just call me Madam, Maestro, Majesty, Master, Mistress...or Mensa member

Do any of these conjure up a particularly positive connotation?  Not in the latter case (at least among some who have tested into the group just to infiltrate our camps). Yes, I’m referring to a certain comedienne (no, not “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”) who reported it was a bastion of right-wing politics. “Camps” not just Steiner summer camp in the Catskills. So much for the “alt right” am I right? Mrs. Maisel did that bit, too. The Nichols and May reference. I only steal from the best. Back to politics... Especially in our current climate, when we would find it difficult to travel to Tuscany even if we could find a house for rent, well that’s what he said. That is, looking back fondly on that episode of Seinfeld, the guy who insisted because he conducted on-the-side gigs his friends must refer to him as “The Maestro” is of particular poignance. Master is, of course, taboo, and reminiscent of our history of slavery. Madam has mistress written all over it. A madam runs a brothel. Majesty is right out of the question in a democracy. Characters worthy of a play, most of them unworthy of honorable mention, I’d say...save for alliteration’s sake “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.” And that's the point, princess. Even “Mr.” and “Mrs.” or “Ms.” is considered an “honorific.” But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, missy. The world is full of examples like “The Maestro” nothing more or less than a light-hearted and humorous attack on the use of “honorifics” that sprinkle the writer’s pad. Dr. Seuss is an example of one who has neither a PhD nor an MD. In honor of this season of The Grinch, let’s remember a talented man, who gave himself a pseudonym. Or, as The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel puts it a “nom de plume.” A stage/pen name. Jackie says it sounds like a sex toy. I won’t elaborate. Jokes are almost always better than taking yourself too seriously.  A fault I find with all who insist on using an honorific. Just like the Maestro. Earned or given, the quality of the degree matters. As does the dissertation. The word honorific does not apply only to an honorary, but usually to a two letter abbreviation that seems to invite way too much controversy. The best among the academics and the medical field alike are not wrapped up in themselves. Public servants, remember, not slaves, as no one should be on either side of the desk - and I should know having frequently worked both sides of that desk simultaneously. It’s up to you what you call someone, not that individual. Or else, this is not a free country. No one can dictate the words that come from you. You are the boss. If students refuse to refer to professors that way, which is their right, so can customers of health care, sometimes known as mere patients. I know it seems like an either or proposition and I think there are many people who agree, but it seems the majority want to defend the honorific not of Mr. or Mrs. X at The Gaslight but that good ole doc. They defend it like it’s their reputation or their own skin. Or even their religion. In this way, I might be more like tRump than I care to admit. Is it a zero sum game if you want it so much it seems like a win for you to be called Madam X. If I don’t follow suit, do you lose and I win! I’ve voted once and I’ll vote again. It’s the run-off. I live in Georgia. Sorry if the Scarlett reference is under attack. It still fits especially where I landed. It’s tongue-in-cheek, a pseudonym I gave myself years ago, myinnerscarlett, knowing all too well I have no mean bone in my body and could never imagine beating a horse, as she is shown to do in the film, now a film rightfully explained in context of the time frame. The actors in the film defended their various roles, regardless. In retrospect, I hope we don’t lose every shred of our sense of humor in our pursuit for the betterment of society. On this point, however, I am taking no one’s side. No one hears me pronounce the honorific because it doesn’t mean a thing, save perhaps pretense. The letters belong behind the name. That goes for everybody. Period. It’s a habit worth breaking. What’s amazing is the backlash on this topic in times of so much real turbulence. Is this just another distraction? Scary thought. Even scarier than Halloween. And, as for true honorary degrees, just think of how many of those are revoked after the honoree falls from grace. Master aside, Mister, the old use of mistress, which Mrs. or Miss or Ms. is meant to abbreviate, as in lady or mistress of the house, is old-fashioned; and, as with slavery, there’s always a backstory. Now we can add to the list John’s Hopkins, which officially acknowledged a long held belief or mistake made in reference to its founder not having held slaves. Or is that too white-washed a term; owned is more to the point. The backstory is told, as the statues are removed. Ours is a haunting history and I’m not just talking Halloween. Sadly, all of these characters could be made into costumes. Some have been worn, unfortunately, in blackface. Thanksgiving is not much better in terms of the hidden backstory of abuse and even slavery of indigenous peoples. We prefer pretty pictures or cute, funny stories. They make us happy. We could all use a good laugh, but not at others’ expense. We don’t like stories of human or of animal abuse. We want heroes/heroines and we foster that sort of worship. We ignore the crux of the matter when (as one member of Mensa put in a recent letter to the editor about Aristotle) there’s a greater lesson to be learned. In reference as to whether or not nonhuman animals had rights, the gist was that politics was the highest form of ethics, and if ethics were the basis of animal rights, the world would be a better place. It’s more than academic. So, after the backlash, Edison fans focused on the Topsy scandal and diminished his role in the cruel electrocution of the former circus elephant; however, it’s also been reported that he performed the same cruelty on stray dogs and cats as well as cattle and horses. If he or his company affiliates filmed any act, I’d say complicit is as complicit does and this is just a matter of mincing words. He used to describe the gory details of electrocution, or so I’ve read, in its defense. Again, I get those were other times but there’s nothing pretty about it. It happened. Even if it was deemed less cruel than other forms of “execution” and even if it was practiced on humans at the time, have we learned nothing? Topsy, the elephant, was innocent. The cruelty on the part of a drunken handler (much like a slave owner) caused behavioral concerns that justified in the twisted minds of the circus owners and their cronies using her one last time. It was a cruel demonstration. Edison is also purported to have cheated his most famous assistant, Nikola Tesla. Geeks and nerds love this guy. I say that in jest. Hopefully, Mensans still have a sense of humor. It’s a sliding scale, right? If Edison was alive today, what would he say? Well, apart from the usual rhetoric, how’s this for an anecdote. True or not, believe it or not, he had a reputation of being a slob. That’s slob, not snob, as he wore his shoes two sizes too big in order to slip into them more easily. No bending over to tie shoe laces. Sounds like he should have invented the slip-on loafer. Self-promotion we know exists among showmen or editors and reviewers alike from within the least admired or lesser known organizations to most highly publicized and political platforms - sometimes to the point of being unethical. What else can you expect from a self-educated guy. As some have also pointed out, Mensa (overall) has a certain sartorial reputation. Subtlety, not discretion, is the better part of valor. Mincing words doesn’t make it right.

The narcissists are running our country now. You need to understand what this means. Read and share this book today! 

[lovemesomesurveys]

A How artistic are you? I’m not at all. Do you want to go to Africa? I’d love to stay at Giraffe Manor! AC/DC or Aerosmith? Aerosmith. 
Do you know what Armenia is?
  Yes.

B
 What’s your beer of choice (if any)?  Blech, none. Do you know the title of Buffalo Springfield’s one-hit wonder?  Okay, I didn’t recognize the name so I Googled it and yes, I am familiar with their one hit wonder. I actually wasn’t familiar with the song title either, but after reading the lyrics I quickly realized what song it was. Do you have a brother? (Do you like it that way?) I have two brothers, and yes I love them. Which bank do you use?  Not sharing that. C
 Which comedian do you most enjoy?  I think Kevin Hart is funny. Would you ever live in California?  I have all my life. Is it possible/likely that you’ll become a cat lady?  *Dog lady, but yes. How many different countries have visited? Just one. D
 Do you believe there’s a devil? Yes. But demons maybe?  Yes. Does eating dessert often make you feel guilty?  Nope. Can you legally drive?  I’m definitely old enough to have my license, but I don’t.  What have you been diagnosed with (if you don’t mind sharing)? Depression, anxiety, and other physical health stuff. E
 How often do you drink energy drinks?  I like to drink Starbucks Doubleshot energy drinks often. 
Where did you live when you were 11 years old? The house next door to where I live now, ha. We had our big move to the house next door to us haha about 10 years ago because our landlords wanted to install new flooring and stuff to our house, but since they had just finished this one they offered for us to just move in here lol. Do you like the actor who played Edward Scissorhands in that movie?
 Why not just say Johnny Depp? Anyway, yes, I think he’s a very talented actor. Have you ever felt an earthquake?  No, just aftershocks from one. F
 When was the last time you saw your father one-on-one? Yesterday. Do you think French is the most beautiful language?  I don’t know what I’d say is the most beautiful language. Is Friday your favorite day of the week?  No. All the days are the same for me, so meh. Have you listened to Jimi’s song ‘Fire?’  Doesn’t sound familiar. G
 Do you have real gold jewelry?  No. How often do you watch ‘Gossip Girl’?  I never have. Is Google your homepage?  Yeah. 
Do you like Geico’s commercials? Most of them are annoying. The gecko character is cute, though. H
 When did you last feel happy? Uhhh. Do you prefer Hollister, Hot Topic, or H&M?  Hot Topic is the only one I shop at now, but I used to shop at the other 2 as well. Did you dress up last Halloween?  Nope. I stopped doing that a few years ago. Would you voluntarily watch the History Channel?  Yeah and I do if there’s something of interest on. I
 Have you ever been on an island?  No. I live on one in Animal Crossing, though. ha. Would you be able to locate Indonesia on a globe?  I think so. Do you know if Iceland or Greenland has more ice?  Greenland. I remember it’s the opposite of their name for some reason. 
Did you watch the last presidential inauguration?  No. J
 Do you enjoy jogging?  No. On which instrument could you most easily play ‘Jingle Bells’?  I’ve played it on the piano. How much do you know about John Lennon? *shrug* I know some stuff. Do you know how Jell-O is made?  I know how to make Jell-O with the mix, but no I don’t know how the mix itself is made. K
 Have you tried Krispy Kreme doughnuts? (Was it love at first bite?) Yeah, but no they’re definitely not my favorite. They’re not real donuts to me, they’re just pure sugar.  
How many pairs of khaki pants do you own? “Uh, khakis?” ha, if you know, you know. Anyway, I don’t own any. 
Have you ever been a fan of the Killers?  Yeah. L
 Does it bother you when couples are lovey-dovey in public? No, unless they’re having like full on makeout sessions, straddling each other and feeling each other up and whatnot lol. Hand holding/locked arms/arm around each other, hugging, little pecks, and just being playful with each other is cute.  
Do you have your own lighter (why or why not)?  No. I don’t have a need for one. In how many languages (besides English) can you count to 100?  I can in Spanish. What’s your favorite lollipop flavor? Not a lollipop fan. M
 Do you believe in miracles (why or why not)? I do because I'm a woman of faith. What do you think of shows like Maury and Jerry Springer? I used to like watching Maury, Jerry Springer was just for laughs.  
Do you care that Mars (the candy co.) uses deadly animal testing? I haven’t heard that... I’d have to fact check. How did you form your opinion of marijuana? Based off the research supporting that it has a lot of benefits. I was especially swayed when I saw how it helped cancer patients.

N
 How often do you sleep naked?  Never. I wouldn’t find that comfortable at all, I very much like being clothed.  Do you actually check the Nutrition Facts before eating something?  Not usually, but I sometimes will just out of curiosity. 
Who is your favorite musical artist/band beginning with ‘N’? Nirvana. 
How nerdy are you (in what ways)? I’m socially awkward, for one. I also cared about school and did well, which is often considered nerdy. Also, a book nerd, Star Wars nerd, Marvel and DC movies nerd...  I enjoy those things so I don’t care, but they’re deemed “nerdy.” What do you think about olives?  Black olives are good, green olives are gross. Are you much of an outdoorsy person? Not at all. The only time I enjoy being outside is when I’m sitting out at the beach. How big of an Oprah fan are you?  I don’t really consider myself a fan. How often do you shop online?
  Quite often. P
 Are you looking forward to your prom? If you already went, how was it? My prom was over a decade ago D: Anyway,  I danced with the guy I had a huge crush on at the time, so hey it wasn’t too bad. How are your local policemen? I think they do a pretty good job overall.  What is your ideal PB&J sandwich like? Just peanut butter and grape jelly, pretty simple. What do you think of the movie ‘Pineapple Express’? I could not get into that movie at all.  Q
 How true is the saying, ‘quitters never win and winners never quit’?  I mean, can’t say “never”, but the main point from the saying makes sense. Do you prefer Quiznos or Subway and why?  I’ve gone to Subway many times, but I think I’ve only been to a Quiznos once or twice. Have you learned the quadratic formula yet? (Do you remember it?) I think I actually remember it. What is the one question you most want to ask someone and who?
  I don’t know. R
 How many rooms are in your home?  2 bedrooms. 
Do you like raspberries?
  Nah. What’s one of your best memories from during a rain storm? Hmm. I don’t know, but I just really love that kind of weather. 
Have you actually read Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo & Juliet’?  Yeah, my freshman year in high school. S
 Do you know any Sign Language?  I know the alphabet and a few sayings. What is your sleeping schedule generally like?  Oh, my sleeping schedule is an absolute joke. How well do you sing? I can’t sing well at all. How often do you listen to 60-70’s music? Now and then. I actually have several songs on my main Spotify playlist from those decades. T What do you think of Twitter?  I like being able to post my random thoughts and following certain celebrities and just interesting people for funny and interesting stuff. How much do you value the Ten Commandments?  I value them a lot. Are there many trees where you live?  Not really. 
How much taller/shorter do you wish to be? “I wish I was a little bit taller.” 🎶

U
 Where do you usually buy your underwear?  Various places. How do you define ‘ugly’?  It goes a lot deeper than just the outer appearance. Do you like to shop at Urban Outfitters?  I’ve only been to an actual store a couple times and I’ve checked out their website a few times, but I just think they’re ridiculously overpriced. V
 Would you like being described as ‘voluptuous’? No one would use that word to describe me. 
For listening to music, do you like to crank up the volume or keep it calm? I like it at a reasonable level, I don’t need it blaring.  Do you ever watch the annual Victoria’s Secret fashion show? They cancelled that a few years ago, but I never had any interest in watching that. 
Would you agree that ‘variety is the spice of life’?  Yeah. W
 Are you currently on wireless Internet?  Yeah, that’s all I have. I haven’t had to connect to a wifi router or whatever with a cord in a very long time. Can you recall memories of learning how to whistle? I still can’t do it. Do you go to White Castle or just vicariously through ‘Harold & Kumar'? I’ve never actually been to one cause they don’t have one anywhere near me (they’re on the east coast, I’m a west coast gal). I’ve only had the the White Castle burgers from the store that you cook in the microwave. I actually like them, but I’m sure the real deal is even better. X
 Why did you need your most recent x-ray and what were the results? I had to get a CT Scan a couple years ago. When it comes to ‘xoxo’, do you interpret ‘x’ as the hug or the kiss?  It’s hugs and kisses, so the X’s are hugs. What does X stand for in Roman numerals? Can you write the previous number?  X is 10, IX is 9. Why do you think xylophones are only popular with young children? That’s true, that is a pretty common baby toy. At least it was when I was little. Also, I played the xylophone in music class in elementary school. I don’t know why that’s a thing with kids. Y
 Can you explain the meaning of the yin-yang symbol? Opposite, but complimentary principles. Like, you can’t have good without bad, lightness without darkness, etc. It’s about balance. Do people more often mistake you as being younger or older than you are? Younger. Did you know that yawning is contagious?  Yeah.  Would you like a bottle of Yoo-Hoo or it’s not really your thing?  I actually like Yoo-Hoo, but I prefer it in the little carton or whatever with the straw (kinda like a Capri Sun, but it’s a box carton). It’s the perfect size, not too much. The strawberry one is my favorite. I haven’t had one in a long time, though. Z
 How many places’ zip codes do you know by heart?  Uhh, not many. What comes to mind when I say ‘Zero to Hero’? Disney’s Hercules movie.

[writings-from-the-hart]

Writebr Intro

Writeblr Intro Time!

Hiya! This is so overdue and I apologize for that lol. I’ve been meaning to write this but school seems to always be getting in the way of just that. Writing. But here I am finally writing this! And yes my username is a pun of my own last name but I just couldn’t resist.

So basically, I really want to surround myself with other writers and have stumbled across tons of writeblr’s (I think that’s what they’re called lol). Instantly I was in love and wanted more of what the community had to offer. I’ve been a self-proclaimed “author” or writer since my early years of grade school. I was that child in the back of the class with ADHD that couldn’t sit still (the cliche bouncing leg and always chewed down nails) and had what my mother called an “overactive imagination”. My notebooks in high school were often filled with wild stories about “galaxies far far away” or dystopias with cruel governments ruled by dictators. Now I’m in my second year of college swamped with classes about the Psychology of criminals (or I like to call the science of murder), and trying to find time to write a novel. So the struggle is real my dudes.

A little about Me:

Hana

20

She/Her

Pisces

Asexual

Forensic Psychology Major and English with a concentration in Writing Minor

Book hoarder

Dog Mom

Vintage AF

Low Key Emo Punk because I’m no average white girl!

History nerd (Love learning about the old wars and cultures)

Movie nerd (There’s an endless stack of DVDs in my house)

Fandoms:

The Mandolorian (or the ManDADolorian)

Star Trek

Star Wars

Hannibal

X-Files

King Falls Am

Welcome to Nightvale

Transformers (Obviously not the bad movies lol. Bumblebee is baby and must be protected always.)

Good Omens

Sherlock

Lord of the Rings

Marvel (There are so many shows and movies in this category we would be here all day if I tried to list them.)

Timeless (Not sure if the fandom is still alive after what the writers did to one of our ships lol)

DC (I’m a huge Batman geek and adore Wonderwoman, but I take the good with the bad when it comes to this fandom. Especially movie-wise anymore.)

And there’s probably more but my memory isn’t working currently.

Goals?. . . maybe:

Get my novel finished (This has literally been on my To-Do List for who knows how long.)

Meet more writers/new writers.

Improve my poetry (I suck at poetry so I bad I never let it see the light of day, so I need to work on it.)

Start my bullet journal.

Wips:

Okay by now you all know I have at least 1 Wip because I mentioned getting a freaking novel done, but just as a precaution as to what I mean by Wip or Wips. I get distracted quite easily, for some odd reason my brain absolutely loves to jump from one idea to another for no absolute reason. Like WTF dude we already have an idea we’re working on why do you keep bringing all these new ones to me like stray dogs. And like any good dog Mom or distracted writer, I want to keep all the ideas/stray dogs. So, when I say Wip I mean “Look at this cool idea I came up with” and I’ll make sure to specify which one is hogging most of my time.

Renegade: Dystopian, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.

This is my baby. Most of my free time is dedicated to adjusting plotlines, character arc’s, fixing freaking plot holes, and other important stuff other than just plain writing. I’m hoping to finish this also monster of a story by 2020 and get it published. So big stuff!  

“So tell me little wolf do you want to punish those who have wronged you?” An assassin known as the Crimson Ghost makes their way through the corrupt city-state of Ashton completing a job given to them by the Black Rose. What is a seemingly normal job though turns into something far more complicated when they stumble upon the fractions of an abandoned notebook from the past. A past the Republic is trying to desperately hide and bury no matter what. On the other side of the world in the Republic’s capital Eshar, plainly referred to as “The Prodigy” or “machine” by his superiors,  Eric Coalwood has built a life upon the ashes of his family, striving to meet the high expectations set before him by his mentor General Wolfheart. However, his life falls out of its normal day to day routine when the unexpected is asked of him. Command a task force made up of the Republic’s most wanted or his life is over. Eric doesn’t need reasons for why he must do what he has to, all he needs are orders and the Republic is more than happy to give them. Either way the clock is ticking for both the Crimson Ghost and the Republic’s prodigy and with time running out they both have two options. Either get over their different beliefs concerning the Republic or allow the world to once again succumb to war but this time nobody is going to survive it. “Legends are slippery things. For the glory that coats them hides the pain, suffering and death that created them.”

The Trouville Files: Dystopian, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.

Not my biggest priority but definitely one of them considering the plot of this story. I mainly use this wip as a reference for Renegade because it’s actually the prequel to it. Also, it’s great to use as writing practice when I’m plagued with writer’s block for Renegade or frustrated with a plot hole. So this is my double-edged sword that does a lot of good.

“Death in these black days is neither kind nor quick.” The year is 2153, the world we know is nothing more than a wasteland strewn with the dead and a sky being choked by their ashes, not glorious and thriving but desolate and starving. The Red Death, a pandemic with a steady progression and a gruesome countdown to the demise of those infected. No one outruns it or survives it. “United we stand, divided we fall.” The Allied Nations, a totalitarian superpower, promised a united people but all they gave this world was more death and destruction. The Red Death isn’t the only thing slowly killing humanity anymore, we are in the form of the War of Broken Pacts. The spark of revolution is lit, but if it will remain so is a question asked by everyone. Does it stand a chance against the iron-fisted government holding the people in shackles? “Rebel with a cause.” Genius Medical Officer for The People’s Republic, Cyprus Ramiro works day and night in search of a cure for the Red Death exterminating hundreds, at least before this war kills him first. But he is also a man on the run and the rebellion can only shelter him for so long. “Duty over pain.” Cunning Spy and Soldier, Orion Ultor is ordered by the Allied Nations to infiltrate and gather information on the ever-growing People’s Republic. In bold letters is Search and Destroy; make a ruin of the rebellion and ensure the Allied Nations remains as it should -- unquestionably in power. No matter the cost unless he wants to suffer the consequences again. “If we fall we shall rise from the ashes like a phoenix.” They should have never met, battlefields don't make good friends. It wasn't fate, it wasn't destiny, only war throwing people together.  The Allied Nations is trying to stamp out something they fear, but can they before the Red Plague? Or will humanity find itself extinct.

Beyond his point is where I house my stray dogs/ideas

Hiraeth: Paranormal, Horror, Mystery, and Thriller.

Scooby-doo who?

Hiraeth means a homesickness for a home which you cannot return. That is how Arcane feels like she’ll never be home no matter how hard she tries to connect with her family. The closest she feels to being home is with her friends and in the worn leather seats of the van they all pitched in to buy. It all started out as a way to pass time and for all of them to escape their families because to be honest parents never understand, but it all turned sideways when a simple “ghost hunting trip” stirred something that was meant to remain buried. The truth never remains buried though, not really, somehow it will always creep back in ugly and twisted. Arcane has never felt “at home” but she’ll do whatever it takes to keep what she considers her family safe.

Sweet Dreams: Historical Fiction, Thriller, and Romance.

A literal dream turned into story plot and no I’m not kidding.

The Red String of Fate, The Lovers, and War. These are the three elements intertwined within the plot of Sweet Dreams but before anyone makes any assumptions this isn’t some chummy rom-com. There will be tears and heart strings may get yanked clean out because the angst is real. War and love never mix well, it leaves a sour taste in ones mouth and makes the mind question things it shouldn’t. Like is the woman in his dreams the same woman he sees in all his dreams? Constantly he somehow ends up spotting that same ruby red lipstick, honey golden eyes, and brunette hair laying in perfect curls. She’s everywhere except in his actual life. They say you and your soulmate share dreams, living proof of how intertwined souls are. She doesn’t believe in love or the idea of souls, not with the monsters roaming around the countryside and battlefield carrying assault rifles. Society tells her where her place is, but she disagrees and rather create her own destiny.

The Prophet: Paranormal, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.  

A short story I can’t seem to let go or it doesn’t want to let me go, but either way, this story has the makings for something great. It also at times seems strikingly similar to Good Omens, so don’t be surprised.

There’s no anti-christ in this story, he already has a book about himself so let’s not make another one besides there are other stories that need to be told. Such as, have you ever heard of modern day prophets and I’m not talking about those people with cardboard signs saying “the end is near!” or giant churches with people preaching about the end times. No, I’m talking about a kid with messy hair and dark circles under their eyes because sleep is no longer a choice due to migraines that plague them every night. Migraines that bring weird cryptic messages that make one question their own sanity. And what happens when strange people start asking about said migraines and messages?

Virago: Fantasy, Thriller, Historical Fiction, and Romance.

I’m not a huge fantasy reader, for some reason I can’t stay invested in them, but here I am with a fantasy story in my wips. It has mages, knights, assasination plots, and one super badass general who takes zero shit from her king. That’s right women empowerment, my dudes! I don’t really have much of a synopsis inline or a plot because this is only of those wips I let rattle around in my brain from time to time. But I will say it does give me that LOTR vibe but also Game of Thrones.  

Don’t be surprised if you see my stray doggos from time to time because I will admit I love to play around with storyboards. Even if I don’t have a fully planned out plot put together for it.

And that concludes this what was supposed to be short Writeblr Intro. I hope I have peaked some of your guys’ interests because the community definitely got a hold of minee. Feel free to send me a message about anything I mentioned (even if it’s just fandom shit I don’t care) and don’t be shy. I’m a huge introvert but somehow love talking, so don’t worry it won’t be awkward and odds are I’m equally nervous about conversation lol. Also, feel free to add me to any taglist and reblog/like if you’re active and would like more Writeblr mutuals!

Happy Writing,

Writings-from-the-Hart

[shytownie]

After starting & enjoying the Differences in the Family Tree challenge as posted by @samtastic-sims , I realized that the OP hasn’t updated the rules since late 2017. It therefore doesn’t include some gameplay elements I enjoy (namely, stuff from Jungle Adventure and StrangerVille). So I’ve reworked the challenge a bit to fit my own needs better. If you’re interested in trying these rules as well, you’re welcome to read on.

First, I’d like to say that any of these rules can and should be modified to suit your interests. I find these goals interesting, but you might not - and that’s totally fine. Second, these are more guidelines than rules, really. I’m not keeping score while playing, because I really just want to sit back and enjoy what happens in my game.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, here are the “rules,” many of which are heavily borrowed from the above-mentioned ones I started with:

Generation One: Back to Nature

(BG + elements of Outdoor Retreat, Get Together, & Spa Day)

You grew up admiring sims who lived off the land and decide to strike out on your own in a similar way. Gardening, fishing, herbalism - if it’s an activity that involves being out in nature, it makes your heart happy. You only hope to find a soulmate who can appreciate your love for the outdoors.

Objectives:

Grow a garden with every type of plant from the store in it

Have and complete one of the nature aspirations

Get married, but no woohoo before marriage

Have a boy and a girl. Keep trying till you do!

Catch every type of fish (base game at least)

Marry a sim who also has the “Loves Outdoors” trait

Master the fishing skill

Master the gardening skill

Master the herbalism skill

Optional: Meet the Hermit of Granite Falls

Optional: Join or found a gardening club

Optional: Develop the Wellness skill

Optional: Find and travel to the Sylvan Glade and/or the Forgotten Grotto

Generation Two: Bright Lights, Big City

(BG + elements of City Living, Get Together, & Get Famous [optional])

Your parents fostered the not-so-secret hope that you would follow in their footsteps to become an earthy gardener like them. You had a good childhood, but the city is calling your name. You want to make waves and have your voice heard.

Objectives:

Woohoo as much as you want & have kid(s) - marriage or commitment is optional

Live in an apartment in San Myshuno

Have ambitious or outgoing trait

Join the political career

Master Charisma

Complete the City Native Aspiration

Collect all the snow globes & city posters

Learn at least 10 recipes from food stalls

Have at least 10 friends

Win at the Humor & Hijinks festival or GeekCon at least once

Join/start protests whenever possible

Optional: Master the dancing skill

Optional: Master the singing skill

Optional: Max out good or bad reputation

Generation Three: Visionary Artist

(BG + elements of Get to Work & Get Famous)

Your parents’ passion and drive fed your own love for creative pursuits. While you may not have political ambitions like they did, you want to make your own impact on the world through art or music.

Objectives:

Marry, woohoo, have kid(s) - only one, if possible

Have and complete a creativity-focused aspiration

Have one or more of the following traits: art lover, creative, music lover, or perfectionist

Master at least two creative skills: painting, photography, guitar, violin, piano, organ, media production

Write at least 10 books or compose 10 pieces of music

Paint at least 10 Masterpieces or obtain an award for media production or a music composition

Have some murals in your home (city living)

Join any of these careers: writer, painter, critic [arts branch], entertainer [music branch]

Optional: Run your own studio to sell and exhibit your work

Optional: Don’t have a good relationship with parents

Optional: Obtain at least 3 stars of fame

Generation Four: Adventurer

(BG + Jungle Adventure)

Your parents’ preoccupation with their art often left you to your own devices. That let you to an obsession with history and a yearning for adventure. You long to study archaeology and learn about Selvadorada.

Objectives:

Have (through birth or adoption) at least one child

Do not join any career (rabbit hole, interactive, or work-from-home) - your sim is a free spirit

Have the Noncommittal trait

As soon as your sim is able once they are a young adult, travel to Selvadorada

Complete at least one of the Jungle Adventure aspirations, preferably both

Master the Archaeology skill

Master the Selvadoradian culture skill

Befriend at least 5 Selvadoradian locals

Your sim supports themself through artifact-verification commissions (obtained once your sim has a high enough Archaeology skill)

Optional: keep a display case of keepsakes from your adventures

Optional: Develop your sim’s writing skill once they’ve completed their Selvadorada aspirations

Optional: Write books/memoirs about your sim’s adventures in archaeology

Generation Five: Space Dandy

(BG + elements of Get to Work & City Living)

Your parent was engrossed in their studies of Selvadorada, but you’ve set your sights on space instead. The stars have always called your name, and now you want to answer them.

Objectives:

Have at least one long-term partner (married or otherwise)

Have 3+ kids (at least one with an alien), preferably in the Adult life stage - work was demanding when you were younger!

Join either the Astronaut career or the Scientist career

Have either the Geek or Genius trait

Complete the Nerd Brain aspiration

Completely build and upgrade a rocket

Travel to Sixam via any available method

Master logic skill

Master rocket science skill

Grow a UFO plant

Optional: Collect all the space rocks & space prints

Optional: Maintain a garden for scientific research

Optional: Max out your handiness skill (you have to develop it for Nerd Brain, anyway)

Optional: Participate in GeekCon at least once, aiming to win in any category

Generation Six: Happy Home

(BG + elements of Parenthood & Cats and Dogs)

You may have had an unconventional upbringing, surrounded by hard science and a greasemonkey parent, but that hasn’t stopped you from wanting a big, happy family of your own. Whether sim-babies or furbabies, you want to give all of your family members a warm, safe home to thrive in.

Objectives:

Get married with no woohoo before marriage (no divorce)

Try for twins/triplets until you have them (have at least four kids if you get twins first time)

Master the Parenting skill

Master the Cooking skill (you want to provide your family the best meals possible!)

Complete one or more of the Family aspirations

One parent must stay at home as a homemaker

No service sims allowed!

Adopt at least one pet, preferably two or more

See to it that your kids all max at least one skill before each age transition

All children should age up with at least 2 positive character values

Optional: Your kids each complete at least one child-age aspiration

Optional: Help children with homework every night & read a story to each child at least once a week (both parents count)

Optional: Maintain a high positive relationship with your children (good friends or higher)

Generation Seven: Silver Screen Sensation

(BG + Get Famous)

Your parents gave you a golden childhood, providing you the confidence you need to take Del Sol Valley by storm! You are determined to see your name in the marquee spots of blockbuster films.

Objectives:

Have the Self-Absorbed trait

Move to and live in Del Sol Valley

Join the Acting career

Master the Acting skill and develop the Charisma skill

Complete the Master Actor aspiration

Marry and divorce at least once

Have 2 or more children by at least 2 different sims

Gain 5 stars of fame

Win at least one award for acting

Optional: build or buy your sim a celeb-worthy mansion (in any style you like and can afford)

Optional: enroll your children in drama club

Optional: throw gold-level parties for your sim whenever possible

Generation Eight: The Truth is Out There

(BG + StrangerVille)

Being under the spotlight through your entire childhood has left you with enduring trust issues. You’ve heard the occasional whisper of conspiratorial mystery about StrangerVille, so you escape Del Sol Valley (and the paparazzi) to investigate.

Objectives:

Have the Paranoid trait

Move to StrangerVille

Have and complete the StrangerVille Mystery aspiration prior to having any children

Join either the Military or Secret Agent career

Master the fitness skill

Master the programming skill (you want to hack into the Matrix!)

Try to hack your way to promotions once the programming skill is high enough

Once you’ve solved the mystery of StrangerVille, move in with/marry a life partner

Have at least 2 children by birth or adoption

Optional: reach the top of your sim’s chosen career

Optional: Maintain an underground bunker in your sim’s home for their conspiracy research

Generation Nine: Public Enemy #1

(BG + elements of Get Famous & Vampires - optional)

You always thought your parent(s) was/were a bit naive. Since you never witnessed the narrowly-averted disaster in StrangerVille, all you had were stories of their exploits while you were growing up. It all sounded kind of silly. You want to aim higher: for being the cause of mayhem, rather than the solution to it. Crime, mischief, you name it: you’ll be involved in one way or another.

Objectives:

Have one (or more) of the following traits: evil, mean, kleptomaniac

Join the criminal career (either branch)

Complete the Public Enemy or Chief of Mischief aspiration

Master the fitness skill

Master the mischief skill

Master the vampire lore skill

Make at least two enemies

Maintain a bad reputation

Meet the love of your life - who has one of the following traits: evil, mean, hot-headed, hates children, or noncommittal

Convince your suitor to move in with you (marriage optional)

Have at least 2 children with your above-mentioned soulmate

You may be evil, but not to your kids: make sure to have them master their skills when possible and seek to befriend them

Optional: befriend a vampire

Optional: become a vampire

Optional: turn other sims into vampires

Generation Ten: Food for the Soul

(BG + elements of City Living, Dine Out, & Get to Work)

You’ve always felt a little embarrassed about the chaos your parents caused. Why they were so determined to make other sims’ lives more - rather than less - difficult will always remain a mystery to you. One thing that has always brought you comfort in a weird home with weird parents was tasty, home-cooked food. You hope that by sharing delicious food with the world, you can spread joy rather than discord.

Objectives:

Join either the Culinary career or the Critic career [food critic branch]

Have either of these traits: Foodie, Vegetarian

Complete the Master Chef aspiration

Master the cooking skill

Master the gourmet cooking skill

Master the baking skill

Home-cook all meals for the family

Marry and have 5+ children (You want to cook for a big family)

Optional: Own a cafe/bakery/restaurant on the side & once successful, you can quit your main career

Optional: Attend spice festivals

Optional: also complete the Grilled Cheese aspiration

And that’s it! Unlike the OP of this challenge, I thought 11 generatons might be a bit much, especially for someone like me who hasn’t yet ever completed a legacy challenge. As I said above, though, feel free to modify this as you see fit! And if you attempt the challenge in any form, good luck & happy simming. 💕

[elliot-orion]

Can you answer 1, 5, and 44 for all those characters you mentioned?

heck yea! thanks! this is going to get very long tho so brace yourselves lol. I’m going to do them grouped by characters.

Ben

1. What is one word to shut them up?

I’m going to assume this means like a word that gets them to stop talking for a not so great reason and not just “quiet!” but i might be wrong and just be in the mood for some angst. For Ben, it’s kind of moot because they don’t talk, but saying anything at all with an angry tone would definitely get them to freeze up.

5. List 3 fears; one surface-level fear, one repressed fear, and one deep dark fear.

Oh my god you have no idea how perfect this question is because fear is a Huge aspect of this story considering Ben is Nightmare and their powers completely revolve around fear. Ok so, surface fear is sleeping, which has a very not surface level reason, but i’d still count it. They will do fucking anything to not sleep (tho funny enough they don’t drink caffeine, it sends their powers all wack). A repressed fear... hmm im not sure if this means like a fear they don’t acknowledge or fear that they have but don't know the reason for. I’m going to go with it just being a slightly less bad but still big fear, and/or something they don’t know the reason for but still are afraid of if i can think of something. So for repressed fear, it’d be showing their wrists. They don’t know why it’s so anxiety provoking for them, they never cut and their only bad scars are on their neck not their wrists, but if they aren’t wearing long sleeves or dont have bracelets covering their wrists then they get antsy and anxious. For Deep Dark Fear, i could list just about any of the fears Carter left them with, sure, but the Carter shit really falls under the “trauma” category rather than simple “fear” category since the reason they are afraid of shit like making noise and people being mad is because of their trauma. So i’m going to go with their powers. Their powers scare the shit out of them, partially bc they literally see and hear everyone’s worst nightmares whenever they are near someone. they are constantly surrounded by fear and always have been. that’s fucking awful honestly. but also bc when THEY get scared, other people suffer since they are an empathetic type. and they dont want to hurt anyone. So... yea.

44. What’s one thing they wish they could do more often, but can’t?

We’re back to the sleep thing here. god this kid needs a five day nap, they are always exhausted. But dreams are Carter’s domain, and if they sleep, he can find them, hurt them, whatever he wants. So they can’t, not until Carter is gone.

Oliver

1. What is one word to shut them up? 

Ollie has a few words/phrases that almost always will send them into the past at some point. “Duck!” or “Grenade!” or anything that might be shouted on a battlefield, certain quotes from historical figures, some names or dates, stuff like that. He goes nonverbal when he’s particularly lost, so that’s a surefire way to get him to shut up.

5. List 3 fears; one surface-level fear, one repressed fear, and one deep dark fear. 

Ok so, surface-level is ovens. He will not use an oven, or any microwaves, or any kitchen appliances that could start a fire. He also refuses to take a bath and prefers someone being in the other room when he takes showers. This is 100% because he gets lost in time so easily that he’ll forget what’s going on in the present time. I cannot stress to you how many times this kid has almost set his house on fire bc he got lost in 1620 and forgot he had the oven on. Baths usually make him head back to a time with lots of water, be it in the middle of a fucking ocean or during a flood or whatever, and he hates that bc usually, he doesn’t show up in a nice safe place and he’ll feel exactly like he’s drowning even if he isn’t physically drowning. Showers he slips a lot in for similar reasons, hence why he prefers someone who’s listening nearby. For repressed fear, he’s afraid of dying, even if he acts fine with it. No one acknowledges it besides the other Elementals, but Oliver is the Time Elemental. Time isn’t a recognized Element, but the Elementals just Know. Even though he’s just 18, he’s only got a few years left, and he’s just got to put on a brave face bc there’s not much he can do about it. For Deep Dark Fear, he’s terrified of losing the remaining time he’s got left. Even though he’s only 18, because of PlotTM, he’s only got a couple of years before he burns up, and he’s terrified to lose it.

44. What’s one thing they wish they could do more often, but can’t? 

Watch documentaries. Funnily enough, Ollie is a massive history nerd, always has been, and he used to watch a ton of documentaries before he got his powers. But even nature or space ones will inevitably make him forget when he is, and so he can’t watch any. He also can’t read any historical fiction books (which sucked when he was younger, his favorite book series had been the Magic Treehouse) for a similar reason. He can read history textbooks, though, since they just list facts and dont show footage or make it seem like it IS that time. 

Morty

1. What is one word to shut them up?

hmm. tricky... Let’s go with Hotspot. If you’ve read sparks fly, you get why.

5. List 3 fears; one surface-level fear, one repressed fear, and one deep dark fear. 

Surface level is probably dogs. He’s been attacked by multiple dogs, multiple times since most animals don't vibe with his whole dark aura of death thing. But getting attacked by dogs is the one that stuck most. He gets nervous around Ollie’s service dog, Edison, but Edison is so well trained he just doesn’t care and being near him actually helps Morty with that fear. Repressed fear is definitely death. Which yea, i know, that’s weird considering he’s the death elemental but hear me out. 1 unlike sparky who gets overwhelmed by too much electricity, Morty gets basically drunk when he’s around too much death. Hospitals, battlefields, large graveyards, etc, and the thing is, he loves that feeling. and it scares him how much he loves it, partially bc he knows what the last death elemental was like and doesn't want to be like them (for reference, the guy went on a mass murder spree and started a couple of civil wars since the death elemental will live until the high rates of death stop, even if it’s past when Elementals normally die and you know they didn’t want to die). 2 Morty’s very existence is a sign that mass death is coming but there are no wars going on and that scares the shit out of him. 3 One Eye literally planted the fear of his powers, killing, and death in his mind to try and limit the damage he could cause and to prevent another situation like the last death elemental. For Deep Dark Fear, Morty is terrified that he can’t trust his own memories or even what he knows about himself. One Eye manipulated his memories and mind so so much and for so long. Morty’s always doubting what he knows and what he believes bc its not like One Eye HASNT planted shit, and he’s always on edge bc he doesnt even feel safe in his own damn mind.

44. What’s one thing they wish they could do more often, but can’t?

As of the start of the story? Be with Ben. For most of the time the two have known each other, they were online friends, until they both ran away together when they were 17. But about 4 months ago Morty left to go back to the SA headquarters, even though it’s literally part of his biggest fear to go back, because Ben was facing a double threat of either Carter getting them, or the SA, and Morty is determined to get the SA to leave them alone (ok technically the Supers Association and Heroes do leave them alone bc One Eye is scared shitless of Ben, but they send assassins like Scout and Hall after them all the fuckin time, and not all of them have sorta morals like the triad). In general tho, hear Ben’s voice. He just wants Ben to feel safe. (Morty is a fucking romantic no matter how tough he likes to act i swear)

I’ve got to do my interview now and this post is long enough as is, so I’ll do the same questions for Matty and Blue afterwards!! thanks!!