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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 11 months ago

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TW: alcohol and death (yep, this one's a fun one)

Mark Watson had a line in his 2014 stand-up show about how last year he was… not an alcoholic, but had a problem with drinking. Which sounds a lot like bullshit, and I know that because I have often described times in my life as “I want’s an alcoholic or anything, but I definitely had a drinking problem”, and I was bullshitting at least a bit with both the “not an alcoholic” part of that, and the “it was all in the past and it’s fine now” part. What I meant is it seemed fine then because it was worse in the past, but objectively, I was still drinking too much. And I’m fairly sure Mark Watson was also bullshitting, because he had a bit material along those lines – something about “last year I was drinking too much but I’m better and have it under control now” – in each new show for like five years in a row. Lots of comedians have done the “I realized I’ve been an alcoholic for years and have decided to quit” show, I feel like Mark Watson might have one of those coming at some point.

Watching all those Mark Watson shows in a row was a bit difficult for me, because I could so obviously see that it sounded like bullshit when he said it, and it is exactly what I’ve been doing for more than ten years. Say I know I used to drink too much, but it’s all fine now. And then say the same thing again the next year.

There are times in my life when my drinking has reached much, much more problematic levels than it is most of the time. The first was in 2011, when I was 20 years old, I got fired from my job as a cashier because I kept having panic attacks at work. I was absolutely devastated. It sounds ridiculous, looking back, that one of the deepest depressions of my whole life was caused by a department store, but it was the second job I’d ever had, I became convinced that if I wasn’t socially functional enough to keep a retail job then I would never be able to hold down a “real job” (note: I am now aware that that is bullshit, retail jobs are harder than most things that get considered “real jobs”, all customer service workers should be paid five million dollars a year). Also, I broke down for the same reason why I went into a depression every time I changed schools as a kid, even though school made me miserable. I went to one place every day and that was my place and it was familiar and I knew what it was like in there and I knew the people and the layout and it was mine, and then suddenly it was gone, and my brain is not built to deal with that. So I fell apart for an entire year.

I fortunately had saved up enough money so I could get away with not working for the next year, just going to university. But I didn’t actually go to university. I pretty much sat in my bedroom and cried all day. I remember writing in journals that I knew I probably wouldn’t still be crying about this every day when I was 30, but I couldn’t see when it would stop or get better, and I felt like nothing would ever matter to me again.

Up until that point, I hardly ever drank alcohol. I never touched alcohol at all until I was nineteen, which is the legal age where I live, even though most people I knew drank underage. I was always scared of what an unknown factor like that would do to me, I used to say my brain is bad enough at controlling my body and I don’t want to see how much worse a job the liquid poison might do. I was scared to touch the stuff for years, until finally when I was nineteen, I had some vodka and beer at a trusted friend’s house under very safe conditions, and realized that actually, this stuff is pretty good. But even then, I started drinking when my roommates held parties every couple of months or so, but that was it.

Until I lost my job, and for the first few weeks I just felt terrible all day and didn’t do anything about it, and then one day I bought a bottle of whiskey and drank half of it in my bedroom between 1 and 5 PM. It felt like doing something. It gave me a few hours, when I’d had enough alcohol to feel the effects but not enough to be incredibly drunk, when I could listen to music and watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer and enjoy the process. And of course, by 6 PM I had burst into tears because I was so drunk and then all my problems hit me again. But I probably would have burst into tears at 6 PM that night anyway. This seemed like a better way to do it.

I have another comedian quote here, from James Acaster: There are four things you can be in life: sober, tipsy, drunk, and hungover. And tipsy is the only one of the four where you don’t cry during it.

I started doing that every few days, and then almost every day. I started buying beer and whiskey more often, and keeping it in my bedroom so my roommates wouldn’t see how fast I went through it. I started hiding the empty bottles under my bed and only putting them out right before the recycling went out, so my roommates wouldn’t notice. I never shared this with anyone for nearly a year, when I opened up to my one of my roommates about it and he told me he did know how much I was drinking because my footsteps got heavier when I was drunk, and he’d wanted to reach out and offer help but didn’t know how.

Amazingly, I finished that first semester with three A+s and two As in my university courses. I literally never set foot on campus except on exam days, even though none of my courses were online. I just happened to be taking five courses where you can learn the whole thing from the textbook, if you happen to be too depressed to leave your bedroom. So I skipped every class but did read the books, often while drinking because the hours when I drank (the first few hours of drinking, before I crossed the line into too drunk and sad again) were the only times when I was functional. I’d drink, and read textbooks, and watch Buffy, and memorize everything in both of those things, and ace the exams.

So, I would call that a “period in my life when I was not an alcoholic, but did have a drinking problem”. It was the first one. There have been a few others. That one ended when I ran away to live in Nova Scotia for a year, slowly put my life back together. I continued drinking alone because I enjoyed it, but it became more of a hobby than a necessity. A once-a-week, maybe occasionally twice-a-week thing, rather than every couple of days. I’d also drink socially, sometimes. But I think I kept that to a fairly normal level. And that’s how much drinking has been pretty much every since, mostly, aside from the couple of other periods in my life that I would call “I had a drinking problem for a while” times.

Another time was in 2018, when a guy who was really big and successful in our sport – I had watched him at local tournaments and on streams from bigger tournaments and admired him for years – moved to my city and joined our little team. All the coaches from my team were a bit star-struck with him, but no one more than me. I remember the first time I saw him at his first practice, first out of the corner of my eye and then I did a double take as my brain went “holy fuck shit, it’s [name of a guy who’s famous in our sport and who had messaged me a week earlier to say he’d come to practice but I still couldn’t believe he was there].” I went over, said hi, he introduced himself as though I might not already know his fucking name. At the end of practice, I nervously told him that the coaches usually go to a pub after practice, I don’t know if he’d want to come with us or anything, I mean we just met so no pressure, but… and then he cut me off to say he’d love to and he’ll give me his number so I can send him the address. I was so excited to have his number.

We went to the pub, and at first, my friends and I tried to talk to him carefully, not knowing if he’d be cool with how much we drink after every tournament (and tournaments were almost every weekend). But he told some drinking stories from his home team that dwarfed ours, and we quickly said, we’re going to get along great.

We did. He became a big part of our coaching friend group. Our ritual of “one or two beers at the pub a couple of nights a week after practice, then get drunk on the weekend after tournaments” turned into getting drunk after almost every practice, mostly at his suggestion. He was always asking who wanted to go back to his place after the pub and drink more, and we usually did it. It became a running joke among us that he always had more alcohol, if we though we’d drank all his beer he’d pull some emergency stash of rum or some shit out of some cupboard somewhere. He could turn any random Wednesday into a spontaneous all-nighter, drinking until 4 AM and passing out on his couches. He was generous, always shared whatever alcohol he had in exchange for getting people to keep drinking with him.

Not every person stayed until 4 AM every time. But I did. Mainly because I truly loved the community that was building around this, the way I really felt like part of something, this sitcom-style friend group. Mainly because we had fun. We weren’t off getting in trouble, doing stupid things. We were just sitting in his living room, listening to music, sharing stories from this sport that was our shared passion and all our separate and mutual experiences in it. And the other reason I always stayed is because I was a little bit in love with him, though that’s a different issue (I think I was as in love with him as it’s possible for me to be with someone of his anatomical makeup, the one time I did actually hook up with him I quickly realized that I did not enjoy contact with that anatomy no matter who it’s attached to, and I figured if I don’t enjoy it with someone I had that strong feelings for then I won’t enjoy it with anyone, so that’s when I started calling myself gay instead of bisexual, though I still usually add the word “mostly” in front of the word “gay” because of said feelings, and also Joe Thomas is hot, Mark Watson used to be my go-to example here of a famous man I find attractive but cheating on your wife is not hot, anyway I may be drifting slightly off topic).

I started getting anxious about how much I was drinking, worried that I’d give myself cancer or something. I’m a hypochondriac at the best of times, and it got worse when I really was doing something very unhealthy. But I always told myself it was okay, because he drank way more than I did. At the peak of my times hanging out with him, I was still drinking maybe three times a week. He was drinking almost every night. I’d wake up on his couch in the morning, he’d come up and make breakfast for everyone who stayed over, and he used to make Ceasars in the morning, offer it to us as a “hair of the dog” thing where you have a tiny bit of alcohol as a hangover cure (the idea that alcohol’s a hangover cure is, of course, bullshit). I sometimes took it, would have half a Ceaser with minimal alcohol with him, and then I’d go home. But more often than not, I’d hear about how after we left, he had a few more Ceasars, than met up with other friends, and turned it into a day-long binge with them. The nights he wasn’t with us, he was drinking with other people. And I’m pretty sure he was getting into other drugs too, though he never did it around us. Some of his friends from outside the team used cocaine, I think.

So I always figured I couldn’t be drinking enough to kill me, because he was doing way worse, and he was fine. The drinking did slow down a bit throughout 2019, as my friends and I started drawing more boundaries, saying it’s been fun but we can’t keep turning the pub into a binge drink every time. A few of the coaches got girlfriends and stopped hanging out with us so much. Things drifted apart a little, and then COVID hit and everything stopped.

Then, in February 2021, he died of a brain aneurysm. I Googled it, and learned that substance abuse can be a major risk factor for brain aneurysms. The guy whom I had used as my “I can’t be that bad since he does worse and he’s fine” barometer died at 27 of a probably substance abuse-related medical issue, as though he was some sort of fucking rockstar from the 70s.

Unsurprisingly, this did kick off another period in my life of what I would call drinking way too much. But that period was limited, it had a specific inciting incident and it did have an end point, as I started to move on from the initial fog of grief. But for the first six weeks after he died, I pretty much didn’t do anything except cry and drink.

For months after that, I went back to my previous, not-a-problem-just-the-baseline schedule of drinking, which was to get drunk alone in my room about once or twice a week (twice more often than once, to be honest, and sometimes more than that, but it was a lot less than I'd been drinking in the previous years). And every time, once I got drunk enough, I’d break down crying about his death. This happens a lot when I drink, and I’ve realized recently how much I’d come to rely on it. I try to keep my emotions together the rest of the time, and then once (sometimes twice, usually only once) a week I’d schedule a few hours to drink beer and whiskey while listening to music and watching comedy and having a good time, followed by hitting a level of drunk where I’d cry about what was upsetting me. And that would be my emotional expression for the week. It helped, honestly. I’d wake up feeling better, feeling like I’d processed something.

Obviously that is not a healthy way to deal with emotions, in an ideal world you can feel and work through the difficult feelings without the aid of liquid poison. What I had wondered about before is whether the alcohol was creating bad feelings, rather than just giving me an outlet to express the emotions that were already there, under the surface. I think it almost always the latter. I think, for the rest of 2021, I was still grieving my friend who’d died. I was so depressed all year, even after I finished the initial six-week horrible grieving period, I just still wasn’t functional, and I didn’t really know why. But then I’d get drunk and cry about his death, suggesting that I was no in fact as over the grieving period as I’d thought. And that’s happened with lots of things that are smaller than a friend’s death, over the years. Times when my mental health was bad but I didn’t think it was for any specific cause, but then I’d see what I get emotional about when drinking, and that would be the cause. At times in my life when I’m genuinely happy, I do in fact manage to get through a night of drinking without breaking down about stuff.

I have Googled signs that you might be an alcoholic before, and obviously I’m aware that Googling whether you’re an alcoholic is a significant sign of alcoholism. But I never connected to the signs. They are all about whether alcohol is fucking up your life, causing you to lose friends or family or romantic relationships, to get in trouble with the law, to behave obnoxiously in public, to spend outside your means and hurt yourself financially, to get into fights or take risks and get hurt.

I don’t do any of that. My favourite place to get drunk is alone in my bedroom, where I play the music I like and I watch what I want to watch and I write and I relax. My second favourite place to get drunk is on my best friend’s couch (which is now my couch, as I’ve just moved in with him), just him and I, playing music and watching videos from our sport and talking shit. My third favourite place to get drunk is in a pub, or at least it used to be. I’ve never liked nightclubs, or even just bars with dancefloors. I like a place where I can sit down and connect with friends and we can hear each other talk.

I love pubs, I always have, but these days, I’ve found I don’t even like getting drunk in them anymore. I still like going to them and having a beer or two, but once I get past a couple of drinks, I start to feel uncomfortable. I get self-conscious about whether I’m behaving appropriately for being in public. I get concerned about how it might be difficult to get myself home while drunk (even though I have gotten myself safely home while drunk hundreds of times before). I’ll have a couple of pints and then go home and drink more from the comfort of my bedroom.

That’s something that started during the pandemic, when I went from enjoying drinking socially or alone, to hating drinking socially. If I’m at an event where others are drinking, I’ll have one or two drinks but that’s it, these days. If I do get drunk around other people, I spend all day the next day feeling terrible about it, paranoid that I said something horribly wrong, hating myself for how badly I must have come across by letting people see me while I wasn’t in full control. In all of 2023, I think the only time I got drunk around anyone besides my one best friend was the first night I ever performed stand-up comedy, where I finished my set and immediately asked the bartender for a whiskey. I hung out with the comedians after the show, drank off the adrenaline, and had a great time. I don’t regret that, it was a lot of fun. But I don’t want to do it more often.

But my love for drinking alone, or with just one other person, has if anything increased in the last few years. I’ve found my life started to revolve around it more and more, as I plan it out. In the last few years, my hatred of drinking around other people even extended to not wanting to drink when my roommate was home. Like when I was twenty, and trying to hide my drinking from my roommates but my heavy footsteps gave me away. I’d get paranoid about my roommate being able to tell I was drinking, I didn’t want him to know. I’d try so hard to be quiet, but I’d still spend all day the next worrying about whether I was too loud the night before.

So I started planning around when he’d be out of the house. If I knew he was going to his girlfriend’s place for the night, I’d make sure I had everything else done, had no plans for that night, so I could sit in my room and play music with no headphones and drink my beer and whiskey in peace. And that was nice, but it also became the only treat that I looked forward to, the thing that motivated me through everything else. I’d plan so much around it, I’d download things in preparation, I’d try to schedule my comedy watching so that that night was a good one. And then I’d do it again the next week, because he went out about once a week. I’d need it to be perfect. And at some point I realized it’s not great for the night when I can get drunk to be the only thing I really look forward to.

In June 2023, I woke up one morning after a night of drinking beer while listening to David O’Doherty albums, and I had a panic attack from the fear that I would drink myself to death just like my friend did. I called my mom and admitted to her how much I’d been drinking, for years, which she hadn’t known. I told her I wanted to cut back. Not quit, I didn’t need to quit. But I needed to slow down. She told me that was a good idea.

So I did. For the second half of 2023, I drank a lot less than I had in years. It helped that I’d started working an in-person fulltime job. Oh right, that was the other thing that came up all the time when I Google signs of alcoholism: if it makes it hard to hold down a job. Which alcohol never does for me, because I’m too careful. I would never, ever go into work drunk, or even hungover. I never have even a single drink if I have to work the next day. So this new job left me with only two nights of the week when I could drink at all, Friday and Saturday. And I made a rule that I could drink Friday or Saturday, not both. And that I didn’t need to get really drunk every time. I could have three beers instead of eight or nine. I started drinking whiskey from shot glasses instead of straight from the bottle, so I could monitor how much I’d had and keep it to a reasonable amount.

It did work, a bit. There were exceptions, like the night of my first stand-up set in July, when I said fuck it, I’m getting drunk with these comedians. And I really don’t regret that, it was a big night and it was fun. It felt a bit like the pre-COVID times, when I used to drink with the coaches after tournaments (sometimes in hotels or Air B&Bs, sometimes in bars in the out-of-town city where we’d traveled, sometimes in a friend’s living room if it was nearby so we went home that night, sometimes I’d drink with just my team and sometimes with the other teams too). It was always such a long day, such a big and tiring day, the travel and the odd sleeping arrangements and the excitement, the high highs of winning and the low lows of losing and the suspense of the in-between moments, working so hard to get the team where it needs to be. Everyone drinks after tournaments – the coaches, the refs, most athletes unless they’re in a serious competition phase that means they can’t have alcohol. You have to let off some steam after something that big and dramatic.

I’ve said before that I think I got addicted to the chemicals that the excitement of competition brought out in my brain, and when that stopped during COVID, I sort of replaced them by drinking alcohol more often, as that was an artificial way to make life feeling heightened and exciting. Music sounds better, comedy is funnier, food tastes better, everything seems big and cool the way it does at something like a tournament. Performing stand-up gave me that same feeling, and I just wanted to drink and let off steam (since then, I have performed stand-up several times and not gotten drunk after, mainly because I had to work the next day, but the first time was during a week off from work).

So that night was an exception. There have been other exceptions, when I’ve gotten really drunk the way I did before my resolution to cut back in June 2023. But there have also been lots of nights when I’ve gotten tipsy off a few drinks, and then gone to bed. It made me feel a lot better about myself.

I’m not sure about it, though. Last night, my best friend/new roommate and I went out to a pub that’s right by our new place. We had a few drinks, came back here, and got very drunk in the living room. I woke up this morning and threw up, for the first time in ages, which is probably a good sign because it means my tolerance is still down (that amount of alcohol would not have made me throw up last year). But I realized I can’t keep doing this. Cutting it down to only getting really drunk every few weeks instead of every week isn’t enough. I can say I used to have a drinking problem but it’s fine now, because it only seems fine now because it used to be so much worse. But just because it’s less bad doesn’t mean this is fine.

I didn’t see myself in any of the internet lists of signs that you might be an alcoholic, and I probably let that, for too long, make me think I was fine. But I’ve got to admit there are a bunch of comedian things that hit way too close to home, alcoholism-wise, and make me think it’s likely a problem. Like when I listened to those old Howard/Richardson radio shows and Jon would joke about how he scheduled time in his week to get drunk by himself and cry. And when I read his book, which has some fucking harrowing and familiar stories about how it felt when he did exactly that (by the way, on the subject of comedians who probably have an “I realized I was an alcoholic and quit drinking” show in them at some point – he might be another one). Michael Legge had a really rough story in his book about how bleak hangovers feel, how much they make you hate yourself. That felt too familiar to me.

I did relate to a lot of Mark Watson stories about drinking. The one he was telling around 2015, about all the stress and anxiety and that goes through your head all day, and then you sit down while alone in a room and have a glass of wine and it makes you like yourself a little more. A quote that I see in a slightly different light now that I realize Mark Watson actually had quite good reason to hate himself in 2015, but still. He put into words so clearly that feeling of how you’re not even aware of how constant the underlying sense of “I fucking hate myself” is until you have a drink and that sense gets alleviated for a little while. No wonder I started revolving my whole week around opportunities to do that.

But obviously, if I’m talking about comedians who talk about alcohol in a way that resonates with me, I’ve got to go to John Robins. Whom I’m pretty sure is still touring his 2023 Edinburgh show Howl, a show I haven’t seen (but please, John, please film it, I will pay you money for it John), but have read about it, so I know it’s an “I realized I was an alcoholic and quit drinking” show. I haven’t seen that show, but I have heard lots of his earlier material, which had lots of bleak stories told with varying levels of jokes, about drinking to deal with shit.

I’m listening to old episodes of his radio show right now, starting from 2014. He tells a lot of casual stories about getting drunk, but they’re almost always fun, nothing that would seem problematic if taken in isolation. Aside from one story about running out of alcohol while on the phone with his dad, with whom he did not have a relationship, and frantically needing to find more alcohol so he didn’t have to do that sober. That was one of those stories where you could hear Elis react like – Dude, that’s not as funny as you seem to think it is.

But I’ve just listened to an episode they did where they talked about additions, and kept specifically saying this isn’t about the “big” addictions, hard drugs or whatever, it’s just about those silly things that people can still get addicted to. And it’s mostly lighthearted and fun, they take listener messages about video games or other things like that.

John Robins shared stories of how he’s gotten addicted to lots of different iPhone games, like Candy Crush, and was once severely addicted to online golf. Elis laughed, in the spirit of the fun and silly addictions stories they were doing, and that time it was John’s turn to say – Dude, I know we’re having fun here, but that’s not really as funny as you think it is. What he really said was, “That was actually a pretty bleak time in my life, it cost me a girlfriend and about a year of progress in my career.” In a previous episode, he told a story about a previous girlfriend who left him a note asking if he could spend time with her when he was done his game, and he didn’t take the hint that he was neglecting her, until after she’d already left him.

John Robins has also made a passing reference to having attended Gambler’s Anonymous meetings when he was younger. And to the fact that, in 2014, he was vaping in an attempt to wean himself off cigarettes. It makes me think of that South Park episode where Stan gets addicted to a microtransaction-ridden phone game and his grandfather drinks too much, and they put those two storylines in parallel to show it’s the same process underlying both behaviours, and addictive personality runs in the family and it'll latch on to anything.

I find the idea of addictive personalities interesting, that if addiction is in your personality, you can’t do anything safely, it always becomes an obsession and any deep enough obsession can fuck up your life. I’ve always been careful with potentially addictive stuff besides alcohol because of that. I know I have an addictive personality. I started one sport in 2004 and dedicated my entire life to it, to the exclusion of all else, until 2020, when COVID took it away so I instead dedicated my entire life to obsession with comedy. I don’t think of that as an addiction, that’s just autism. What’s the difference between an addiction and a special interest? I guess the difference is whether it fucks up your life.

I know addiction runs in my family, too. My dad’s dad died of alcohol-related conditions, and my dad was an alcoholic in his twenties, though he quit drinking just before I was born. This is going to sound silly, like the idea of a video game addiction, but my brother has a genuine, serious caffeine addiction. He goes through this cycle where the worst phase involves him drinking lots of Monster energy every day, then he’ll try to quit, sometimes going cold turkey and sometimes going slow, and he’ll get withdrawal, which usually includes horrible anger management problems. Then my mom will catch him drinking a can of Coca-Cola, he’ll say it’s okay because it’s just a can of Coke, and then it’ll build back up until he’s addicted again.

Because of that, I never touch caffeine. I never drink coffee or any kind of pop, I certainly don’t drink energy drinks, and I never drink tea unless I confirm it’s caffeine-free. I’ve never smoked anything, I never do any drugs besides alcohol. I’ve tried weed before, and honestly, I wish I liked it, because it’s better for me than alcohol, I wish I could just switch to that instead. But I didn’t like it that much. And I know that any drug is dangerous for me. If I start, and I actually like it, I won’t be able to just do a little bit of it. I can never do just a little bit of anything. I have a spreadsheet of all the comedy I’ve watched and read and listened to during the pandemic, and it definitely confirms that I absolutely cannot do just a little bit of anything.

This is a little part of why I find John Robins so appealing overall. I like listening to comedians who are intense about stuff, who are like me in the sense of being hypercompetitive and caring too much about everything and tell stories about what it’s like to live that way, stories that resonate with me. And that’s why last year, when I heard he’d quit drinking, I made some comments about how I’m really glad and that’s a great decision for him and no one should ever suffer for the sake of making art and also great art does not require suffering to be made – but also, I have to admit the really intense self-loathing stuff is a part of John Robins’ comedy that I find appealing, so please let him film this last stand-up show (and give us a great season of that thing that we all have to pretend for like two more days we don’t know the lineup of), and then he can ride off into the sunset and be happy forever even if he doesn’t write any more stand-up comedy about how his addictive, obsessive, hypercompetitive personality makes him miserable.

I said some stuff like that, and then I read an interview he did in The Guardian about his show Howl and its theme of his decision to quit drinking, and then I felt guilty for even for a moment, even jokingly, even though I filled it up with “of course I want him to be happy though” caveats, suggesting that there could be a downside to him getting sober. I'm going to paste in a quote from the article:

“It was hell,” says the Radio 5 Live man now. “I was a control freak of my own existence. Back then, a good day was a day where everything went according to plan. There’s a million individual moments in the day where something can go wrong. If they go wrong, I’ve fucked up, and I go apeshit at myself. And I lived like that for years – and used alcohol to try and switch it off. “But then the next day is worse, because you were drunk the night before. So you feel even more anxious, with more dread that things will go wrong. Until eventually” – and this is what happened earlier this year – “the booze stops working. And that was hell. That made the anxiety worse. So you end up in this ludicrous situation where you need to drink in exactly the right way, at exactly the right time, and exactly the right things, because drinking is now just another thing that has to go exactly according to plan.” It sounds (and was) exhausting, and unsustainable. So Robins called time on the drinking in November of last year. Looking back now, he says, “after a few months’ sobriety” (and having fixed a thyroid problem that made the anxiety worse), “trying to address that damage through comedy is a challenge. Because what I describe to you doesn’t sound very funny.” He guffaws. “And it wasn’t. I can feel myself getting emotional now, because I’ve not talked to many strangers about it.”

Quitting drinking will not make John Robins a worse comedian, because suffering does not improve anyone's art, everyone makes better creative stuff when they are in a good mental place. But also, even if quitting drinking did take his edge away and ruin his comedy (which it hasn't and won't), he doesn't owe his audience anything, and living like that would not be worth all the comedy in the world. I genuinely apologize for ever having implied for a moment, even flippantly and jokingly, that it might be. (Besides, I've heard the Pappy's Flatshare Slamdown episode he recorded last year, and he was his usual overly intense and annoyingly hypercompetitive self, conforming that John Robins does not need alcohol to ruin everyone's fun. Thank God.)

Obviously that part hit me pretty heard when I read it last year. But of all these comedian quotes that I've referenced in this post, the one that resonated with me the most is something from a different Guardian article featuring John Robins in 2023, a conversation he had with Adrian Chiles about whether it's possible to moderate a drinking problem, or whether a drinking problem can only be stopped by total abstinence:

AC: I think people are led to believe that moderation isn’t possible: that if you successfully moderate, it’s because you didn’t have much of a problem in the first place. Otherwise, the ideas are very binary. People will stop you in the street and say: “I hear you’re on the wagon,” or: “Are you a friend of Bill’s?” or: “Are you still off the booze?” It doesn’t even occur to people that there could be a middle ground, either you’re completely befuddled and drunk the whole time, or you’re completely sober. JR: The difference between us is that you’re moderating to change a habit. Whereas I was, unbeknownst to me, moderating to try to control an addiction. You describe alcohol as a handrail. I would say alcohol was the handrail, the stairs and the destination.

Here's what I'm afraid of, as I sit here still feeling hungover at 8 PM, hating myself for how much I drank last night, worried about how I might have behaved even though all I did was sit in the pub and then our living room with my best friend of nearly twenty years. I'm afraid that John Robins is right here. That if you have an addictive personality, there is no moderating. I did the "three beers and then go to bed" thing for a while, and it worked okay. But after a few months, I started slipping more and more. I'd drink past that point just this once, and then just this once again. My baseline, "only drinking in moderation night" went from three beers to five, and then to six (which is still a lot less than it was pre-June 2023, but it was creeping up). I started losing track of how much whiskey I'd had in a night.

Two weeks ago, the Olympic Trials happened, a woman from my team competed and won a gold medal, my best friend was in her corner, I watched it on the stream and got maybe drunker than I've been all year, as I felt some conflicting emotions about watching my best friend achieve our joint dreams after I've stepped back from the sport, am still struggling with that decision, but was also genuinely incredibly happy for them. So I got very drunk that night. Then last week, I had a week off work over Christmas, and I got drunk - really properly drunk - three times in the week. It feels like it cumulated in last night, when I drank like it was 2018 again. I worry about whether moderation can last, for me.

I think I'm going to do dry January. Which I hate, because I hate the idea of trends like that. I wish this were the start of any other month, some month where annoying people on Facebook aren't saying "New Year, new me, dry January". I don't want to get on a bandwagon. But that's just the contrarian in me that hasn't matured since high school, and having a contrarian in me that hasn't matured since high school isn't a good reason to avoid getting healthy.

I'm thinking of another comedy moment now, this time from the sitcom Ladhood, when Liam Williams quit drinking for a month just to prove he didn't have a problem, but then as the last hours ran down, he was starting at the clock, and grabbed a drink the moment time was up, and went right back to old habits. Maybe that'll happen here. I'm not ready to say I plan to quit drinking forever. I think I should quit drinking forever. But I'm not ready to plan that yet. I'm going to try for a month and see how that feels. No moderation, just no drinking at all. And then I'll take it from there. Maybe or maybe not in the same direction as Liam Williams, but at least it's something.

Today is New Year's Eve. Around New Year's last year, I watched Ahir Shah's stand-up show Dots, and it had this line about how he quit anti-depressants, but then learned that quitting that is a pro-depressant, so he went back on them. I quit anti-depressants in early 2021, was really sad for most of 2021 (in my defense, I was grieving a friend whom I'd been as in love with as I could be given the gender-related circumstances), had a breakdown in 2022, and had already been thinking about going back on meds when I watched that Ahir Shah show that just laid it out so clearly. The next day, I called my doctor, and in 2023 I've been more emotionally stable, and I think of Ahir Shah every time I take my anti-anxiety pill at night.

Well, maybe I am in fact a New Year's resolution-making, dry January participating, cliche, because maybe every year, at the beginning of the year, I'm going to hear a quote from a comedian that seems to so clearly lay out one of my problems and leaves me with a more straightfoward understanding of a big change I need to make for my health. Last year it was the Shah quote about meds, this year it might be "The difference between us is that you’re moderating to change a habit. Whereas I was, unbeknownst to me, moderating to try to control an addiction."

...I mean, obviously, don't take medical advice or other major life decisions from comedians. But also, "Go on brain meds if your brain needs meds and don't drink alcohol if you're an alcoholic" sure doesn't seem like bad advice.

It's New Year's Even and I'm staying sober all night, while in other years, I'd have gotten drunk because that's what you do on New Year's, even if I drank the night before too. I've just pictured a version of myself that says "No thanks, I don't do that" when someone offers me a beer, the same way I say that now when I'm offered a coffee. I think that's a version of myself that I might not hate so much. I don't write comedy shows (well, not hour-long involved emotional ones, I write six minutes to perform in a pub), but maybe this is my "I realized I was an alcoholic and quit drinking" Tumblr post. Maybe. We'll see how this works out.

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teethlabyrinth · 2 years ago

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the cherry wives! cherry manhattan cookie and cherry sour bird, and cherry pie cookie and tipple thimble.

Glitz and glamour, thy name is cherry! This slick uptown socialite is aging as gracefully as bourbon and twice as sweet. Over the years, Cherry Manhattan Cookie has made a name for herself in the high-society circles of the rich and famous with her strong personality, fantastic fashion, and glamorous attitude. She can come off as self-absorbed and a little judgy. But underneath it all, Cherry Manhattan Cookie is a family woman, married to her high school sweetheart and proud parent of two girls.

Cherry Pie Cookie, once a small town girl next door, never expected to end up in the big city. But she has, and she’s very happy about it! As a full-time housewife, Cherry Pie Cookie works hard to keep the household in order. Her chore charts are a feat to be reckoned with! Now that her girls are more grown up, she’s been able to devote more time to her twin passions — sewing, and baking! Her secret ingredient? Love, obviously.

cherry manhattan’s brother is cherry cordial, a sports news anchor who is cherry ball’s father.

Cherry Manhattan Relationships:

Cherry Cookie: My youngest has a strong personality! Just like her old woman, haha! (family) ↔ Mother made me go to a lot of fancy parties when I was little. Boring! (family)

Cherry Blossom Cookie: Hm... Maybe we could hold our next party outdoors? (family) ↔ My mom helped me learn to host such good gatherings. (family)

Cherry Ball Cookie: My little niece is going into sports... Well, we’ll support her either way! (family) ↔ Auntie isn’t as, um, glitzy as she acts. She’s actually really cool! (family)

Cherry Cordial Cookie: Do you need to network, brother? You should come by either way. It’s been too long! (family) ↔ My sister has done a lot to support me over the years! Though sometimes I wish she were less, ah... glamorous. (family)

Cherry Pie Cookie: They told me I was a fool to marry so young, but who’s laughing now? She’s the light of my life. (trust)

Cheesecake Cookie: We’re friends! You must be, when you move in the same circles. (friendly)

Sparkling Cookie: He’s worked at a couple parties I’ve attended. A very talented young man. (friendly)

Chocolate Bonbon Cookie: Her custom designs cannot be beat! Worth every cent! (admiration)

Cherry Pie Relationships:

Cherry Cookie: No bombs in the house, dear. (family) ↔ My mom knows all sorts of things! Like what? Family secret! (family)

Cherry Blossom Cookie: Our garden is in bloom! It would be a lovely place for a picnic. (family) ↔ My mother taught me lots about the best recipes for picnics! (family)

Cherry Ball Cookie: We’ll attend your next game, dear! Look for us in the bleachers! (family) ↔ Auntie is very supportive... But she’s the only normal one in the house! (family)

Cherry Cordial Cookie: My brother-in-law is a talented anchor. I could never be on camera! (family) ↔ I’ve known Cherry Pie Cookie for years. I’m glad Cherry Manhattan Cookie married her! (family)

Cherry Manhattan Cookie: My beloved... She works so much harder than people think. Come relax, dear, I’ve baked a fresh cherry pie. (trust)

Cereal Cookie: We trade recipes sometimes! She knows her stuff. (friendly)

Spinach Cookie: I prefer buying farm-to-table, and her stuff is the best. (admiration)

Cotton Candy Cookie: She’s one of Cherry Blossom Cookie’s friends, right? We should all go on a picnic together. (friendly)

anyway.

#cookie run #cookie run oc #fancookie #cherry manhattan cookie #cherry pie cookie #my art #the trio of puns involved in cherry manhattan/cherry sour/cherry cordial is the cleverest ive ever been #because i had to get from a cocktail (manhattan) to a candy (cherry ball) with only 1 intermediate!#and fun fact a cherry cordial refers to both a cocktail and a candy! and actually so does cherry sour!!#they exist because the cherries are the biggest canon family and i was like what if i make it even bigger?

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queenofbaws · 2 years ago

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Lolololol 5!! And 24 ❤️❤️

hmmmm giving me the DIFFICULT ones, i see... 🤔

5. Do you prefer to read/write long fics or short fics?

when it comes to READING, i tend to stick to shorter stories. that's obviously not a hard rule, but with the chronic fatigue bs being what it is, i tend to get tired reading off a screen fairly quickly, and i hate not being able to give a fic my full attention, soooOOO at least for the time being, you will probably find me checking out shorter stuff. one day i'm gonna get back into reading huge stuff - ONE DAY!!!

as for WRITING, hmm. this one...this one's hard. i've never written anything longer than like 10k in my life, so... 👀 lmfao i got too much shit to say, man, you KNOW i'm about that longfic life!!!!!! choo choo all aboard the purple prose express!!!!

24. If you could go back and talk to yourself in the moments before you posted your first fic, what would you say to past you?

man oh man. hey there little queenie. lil' queenlet. icy, i'm sorry, you're icy right now, huh? that's gonna boomerang back after a little, don't worry. writing is a weird hobby to pick up, but you already know that. it's gotten you in trouble a few times in class, and it's going to continue to get you in trouble for as long as you're in school (and god help you, you're going to be in school for a long fucking time, bucko), because at the end of the day, you know and i know that it's the only thing you really want to be doing, and everything else just sort of takes a backseat when an idea strikes.

you're going to be embarrassed about it sometimes. you're going to bump up against some people who think fic stuff is dumb, or people who insist it doesn't really count as writing, and you're going to want to bite those people or cry or both, and those are legitimate feelings, icy, truly they are, but hey...refrain. one day when you least expect it, you're going to find your people - the ones who are all about this stuff - and they are going to make you so proud of the work you do that you forget all that. you're going to make some seriously dorky friends who are going to make you laugh harder than you've ever laughed and feel better about yourself than you ever thought you could, and no matter how much anxiety you feel every single time you hit that post button, you're gonna know in the end that it's worth it. i promise. i promise.

but also, hey, maybe kingdom hearts isn't the right fandom for your burgeoning fascination with vivisection, okay? okay. just. just trust me on this one. there is a time for body horror, and it's...it's comin', but maybe leave michael mouse out of this one, huh??? please???

writing asks!

#unicornaffair #asks #not ME gettin misty thinking about ye olden days lmfao

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diaphragmjellyfish · 4 years ago

Text

Research

Finally wrote something again! Sorry it took so long.

How exactly do you get a dog to lose your scent? Because avoiding your werewolf boyfriend Embry was proving a lot harder than you had anticipated. Last weekend was… eventful. You guys had finally done it. Gone all the way. After 6 months of dating and an imprint bond, you both finally decided you were ready to take that next step. And you’ve only had one thought since that night.

That shit hurted.

It was borderline unbearable. The pain was searing. You lied there until Embry was done, faking moans and even faking the Big O, and you were less than eager to do it again. Were you broken? He seemed to enjoy it, so obviously you were to blame. He’d been super clingy and lovey since that night, even more so than usual, and you didn’t have the heart to be around him knowing you had faked it like that. What if he found out? He’d be crushed. What if he wanted to do it again? You couldn’t take that pain another night. What if he faked it too and was going to break up with you the next time he saw you? Yeah, no. Avoidance was the way to go.

He wanted to take you out to see a movie. You mysteriously came down with a case of allergies in the middle of winter.

He wanted to pick you up after school and give you a ride home. You had the sudden urge to join a club that was meeting after school that day.

He called, your phone was on silent.

He texted, you suddenly became illiterate.

But he kept trying. God, why was he making this so difficult?! Thoughts like this swirled through your head as you walked the long way home from school. He knew your usual route, so obviously that was out of the question. You took a path through the woods that would eventually spit you out right by the beach where you could sit and think. The forest had always felt like a second home to you. Peaceful, comfortable, private. You walked for some time before hearing twigs snapping in the distance. Probably a rabbit or something. Louder snapping. Bigger sticks. Definitely not a rabbit. You halted, waiting for the creature to pass, when a large gray wolf stalked out of the trees.

Damn.

He was wearing the softest, cutest, most “kicked puppy” look on his face that you had ever seen. Head bowed, he walked up to you slowly, whining. So he had noticed your avoidance. You held your hand out to him, petting the thick fur between his ears. He sniffed your hand, giving it a soft lick.

“Hi,” you whispered. He whined louder at this. “Embry…” you started, before he crouched down, a silent cue for you to get on his back. He waited.

Guess this was inevitable. And at least him showing up in wolf form gave you some time to think about how exactly you would explain what had happened. With another soft sigh, you climbed up on his back, holding the fur tightly as he trotted off into the trees. After about 5 minutes, you realized that he was taking you to Sam and Emily’s house. You weren’t in the mood to be around the rest of the pack right now.

“Embry, I’m kind of busy today. I don’t really have time to hang out with the pack.”

He ignored you, trotting along as if your statement was the buzz of a mosquito in his ear. When you reached the house, however, you quickly realized that no one else was there. They must all be out. It was a Friday afternoon, after all.

When you reached the lawn, Embry stopped and crouched once more so you could dismount. When you did, he ran off behind the house, walking back out several minutes later as the inky-haired boy you had grown to love. His face was full of sadness, yours full of anxiety.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said.

You silently followed him down the path that led to the cliffs, waiting for him to say something else. He never did, only kept walking. You struggled to keep up, but were too stubborn in your silence to ask him to slow down. You both finally reached the rocky cliffs jutting out over the frigid ocean. He stopped, staring out at the horizon. You paused next to him, waiting. After another several minutes of silence, you grew impatient.

“It’s supposed to snow Monday,” you said.

You waited. Silence.

“The news said they might even cancel school.”

A pause. Nothing.

“I don’t know about you, but I could definitely use a three day weeken-”

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he cut you off, seeming agitated. For as long as you’d known Embry, he was never in a bad mood. Never anything but happy. Maybe sad on a few occasions, but never angry. Never frustrated. And it was making you nervous.

And now it was your turn to be silent. Yes! You wanted to say. You hurt me! But you couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He didn’t do it on purpose, so why would you make him feel guilty about something that was your problem and your problem alone?

“Because, if I’m counting correctly, it’s been 5 days since I’ve so much as heard from you. Barely a text back. Not a call, not a ‘hey! I’m super busy this week.’ Why are you avoiding me? I thought… after last weekend, we should be more in love than ever right?! Did it not mean anything to you?”

You remained quiet, tears pooling in your eyes. You gave no sign that you were going to respond, so he kept going.

“Just tell me where your fucking head is at, Y/N. You can’t keep brushing me off like this. Did I do something wrong? Do you regret what we did? Am I, like… not ripped enough for you or something?”

“Embry, no,” you pleaded. You could see the insecurity behind his eyes. You had to tell him what was going on, but you knew it would crush him. “It’s not that at all.”

He waited. “Then what?”

You closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your face. You wiped it away quickly before taking a deep breath. “I have been avoiding you.” You looked up at his face at this, finding tears building up in his own eyes. “I love you, Embry. But last weekend, just… I can’t do that again.”

He clenched his jaw, looking anywhere but your face and nodded. He was hurt. You definitely could have worded that better.

“Let me explain,” you pleaded. He wouldn’t look at you still, but didn’t walk away, so you kept going. “I think I might be broken or something, because that… It didn’t feel right.”

At this, he looked back at your face, switching from hurt to concerned almost immediately.

“Why would you think you’re broken?”

Another pause. “I know you would never hurt me on purpose…”

“You were in pain?” he panicked, fresh tears pricking in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” you hurried. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that? Why would you let me keep going?!”

“I’m sorry!” you cried, causing him to walk up and embrace you. You sobbed into his chest as he pet your hair, all signs of anger gone. “You were having a good time, and I didn’t wanna ruin it, but it hurt so bad…”

“Shhhhh,” he cooed as he rocked you from side to side, letting you calm down. “It’s okay.”

After several minutes, you finally stopped crying. He didn’t falter in his embrace, only left light kisses on your forehead and cheek.

“Y/N, I am so sorry,” he whispered into your hair.

“It’s not your fault,” you replied.

“Yes, it is. I’m supposed to take care of you. It was my job to make you feel good, and you were hurting that bad and I didn’t even notice.” You sniffled, just enjoying being in his arms. A few more minutes passed as you both calmed down.

“To be fair, I did take a drama class last semester. I’d say I put on a pretty convincing performance,” you added weakly, an attempt to lighten the mood.

He huffed a laugh, if for no other reason than to make you feel better. “Had me fooled,” he added.

You smiled, looking up at him. “I’m sorry for avoiding you.”

“It’s okay. I just wish you would have told me as soon as it started to hurt that you wanted to stop.”

“I know. I should have, I just got all in my head about it.”

“And I’m sorry for hurting you. I’ll never forgive myself, and I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore,” he answered, nervously awaiting your response.

“I forgive you. And of course I still want to be with you, Embry. I love you. We just need to work on our communication skills a little bit,” you laughed.

“We do. And I’ll start. I would really love another chance to make you feel good. If you promise to be honest about how you’re feeling, I know I can do a way better job. But I understand completely if you wanna wait a while… or if you never wanna do it again. You’re in charge here.”

His words had your heart melting. He really did care about you, and you knew that if you had told him in the moment that you were in pain, he would have done anything to get you feeling good. You were always his first priority.

“I’d be willing to try again, but what we did last time didn’t work. I think we need to think of some new techniques or something,” you mumbled shyly.

“Tell you what. I’ll do some research, get some stuff, and you can come over tonight… if you want to. And we can maybe try again? And if you get there and aren’t feeling up to it, we can just watch a movie and cuddle. No pressure… I just miss you.”

You thought for a second. Worst case scenario, you’d cuddle on the couch and eat junk food. You trusted Embry completely, and if you said stop, you knew he would.

“Okay,” you replied.

__________________________________

After a long shower, some fresh makeup, and a cute-yet-comfortable outfit, you were ready to go over to Embry’s. Sure, the nerves were kicking in, but you trusted him when he said he would do some research. When you pulled up, he was already standing in the doorway smiling. You ran out and gave him a giant bear hug (or wolf hug), and he picked you up and carried you into his room, kicking the door closed with his foot.

“I missed you,” he said, face buried in your hair.

“You saw me like 3 hours ago,” you giggled in response.

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen you all week! Gotta get my Y/N fill or I might die!”

You laughed loudly, hands threading up into his hair as he sat down on the bed with you seated in his lap.

“Yeah, yeah, just try not to crowd me,” you cheekily replied.

He raised an eyebrow before tackling you back onto the bed, tickling you like a maniac and placing playful kisses all over your face and neck.

“Like this?! Don’t crowd you like this?”

“Embry stop!” you laughed, trying to suck in a breath between his manic tickles. When he finally stopped, he was lying between your legs, one hand grasping both your wrists above your head, the other propped beside you so as to not crush you. He stared lovingly at your face before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your lips. His grip on your arms loosened, as if to say You can stop me anytime, but you didn’t. You kissed him back, arms staying in place to tell him that you were okay.

The kisses grew slightly more heated, but Embry kept them gentle. And every time you thought he was about to take things to the next step, he’d just kiss you some more. You were growing slightly impatient, breath labored and blood pumping fast. Your stomach became slightly warm, and every time you leaned up, he’d pull away.

“You’re being mean,” you whimpered.

He just looked at you and smirked before leaning down and capturing your lips once more. You could feel your blood heat in every part of your body. From your head to your toes, you felt warm and fuzzy, yet desperate for more,,, more touch, more pressure, more Embry. Growing frustrated, you hooked your legs around his waist and tried your best to pull him closer, unintentionally grinding your hips into his. When he brushed up against your core, you let out an involuntary sigh. It actually felt nice. He smiled into the kiss, pulling his lips away from yours and dragging them down to your jaw, and then your neck, suckling and sucking and leaving light red marks that made your head spin. The hand that was holding your wrists came down behind your back and up into your hair, firmly pulling your head back to give him better access to your neck.

This movement made your entire back arch up into his body. His grip in your hair tightened slightly, lips sucking your skin up into his mouth as he nibbled, before soothing with his tongue. Your toes curled, legs pulling him impossibly closer. When he felt this, he ground his hips down into yours. The combination of his hands, lips, and weight on top of you made you let out a gasp. Your hands held onto his shoulders for dear life, pulling his shirt up in an attempt to take it off. He got the hint and sat up to remove it, being away from your body for far too long for your taste. He didn’t lower fully back down, however, instead sliding his warm hands under your shirt and onto your stomach. You sat up, taking your sweatshirt off and throwing it violently across the room. His eyes widened as they looked down at your bare chest in an almost feral fashion. He gripped your thighs, tugging you down the bed with ease, and resuming his position on top of you, hands roaming all over your torso. He cupped your breasts gently, rolling your nipples softly between his fingers. You shut your eyes and threw your head back, enjoying the sensations. His kisses trailed from your neck and down to your chest, softly. Lovingly. When he reached your nipples, his tongue poked out and licked around each of them, before taking them into his mouth and sucking. His hands continued to caress your back, and he took his sweet time switching from one breast to the other, and back again, until he felt your skin grow almost as hot as his. You were writhing underneath him, panting as your mind tried to comprehend the sensations. And his mouth, God it was so warm. You felt him kiss the undersides of your breasts, and then your stomach, and then lower…

When he reached the waistband of your leggings, he brought his hands up as if to pull them off of you. He stopped, looking up at you for permission. You gave a lazy nod Yes, and lifted your hips to help him. He pulled your underwear off as well, spreading your legs and almost salivating at the sight of your soaking pussy. Not wanting to waste another second, he once again began placing kisses on your lower stomach, and then down to your hip bones, scraping his teeth lightly against the skin, which had you shuddering. He trailed lower, to where your thighs met your core, and began to suck lightly and the soft skin there. Your clit was throbbing by now, desperate for any sort of attention. You thrust your hips up, desperate for his mouth on the place you needed him, but he only pulled your legs over his shoulders and brought his arms across your stomach to hold you in place. Your hands went to his hair in an effort to control any aspect of this situation, but the boy was strong. He teased and teased and teased, until you thought you might very well crawl out of your own skin if he didn’t properly touch you soon. Embry brought his face right up to your center and licked into your entrance, making your toes curl once more. His hands gripped your hips as he brought you as far onto his tongue as he could, nose not quite brushing where you still needed him.

“Embry…” you whimpered, about to tell him what you needed.

“I know, baby. I got you,” he spoke, as he finally brought his warm tongue to lick a firm stripe up to your clit, swirling it around and sucking the swollen nub into his mouth.

You let out a moan. A real one. Your first real one. And it only encouraged Embry, as he began to suck and lick with a steady rhythm that caused your legs to shake. You felt your stomach start to coil after several minutes of this, hands fisting Embry’s hair even tighter. It felt amazing, but that coil wouldn’t snap. He started to notice you coming down slightly, orgasm fading away, when he brought his index finger into your mouth. You sucked on instinct, before he pulled it out and brought it down to your entrance. He swirled the digit around a few times and began to push in slowly. One knuckle. Then two. And then he was fully in you. Sucking your clit into his mouth yet again, he rubbed his finger up into your front wall, massaging the ridges there.

“Oh… Embry, oh my God,” you moaned. He used more pressure, and then brought his finger out and added another, slowly pushing them in together and resuming the ‘come-hither’ motion. You felt your muscles shake, losing all control, and the coil in your stomach tightened rapidly once again, only this time, it broke. Your back arched, eyes shut tight, mouth open in a silent scream as you came hard. Waves of pleasure drove through you, hands holding his head firmly onto your center. When you came down and opened your eyes, you looked down at his face to see an excited grin.

“If you tell me that was fake, I think I’ll cry,” he chirped.

You calmed your hard breathing enough to mutter a “That was real.”

“Do you wanna keep going?” he asked.

You nodded, taking note of the obvious tent in his shorts. You reached a hand down to grasp him, when he grabbed your wrist and said “Nuh-uh, I’m still making it up to you.”

He stood up off the bed and went over to a plastic shopping bag on his desk. He opened it and pulled out a condom, some lube, and a small pink toy. Your eyes widened, and he cockily stated, “told you I’d do some research. Come here Sweetheart.” He held a hand out to help you up, and moved you so that you were on your hands and knees, bum facing him as he stood at the edge of the bed. He tore the condom packet open with his teeth and rolled it on, and then opened the bottle of lube and slathered it all over himself. He then brought what was left on his hand up to your sensitive core, distributing the substance gently. Throwing the bottle onto the floor, he lined himself up with your entrance.

“You sure you wanna keep going?” he asked. You nodded in response. “I need you to say it, babe.”

“Yes, I want to keep going, Em,” you almost cried.

“Okay, but I need you to tell me if it hurts even a little. Promise?”

“Promise.”

He grasped your hip with one hand, guiding himself in with the other. Slowly, carefully, he became fully seated inside you, giving you a moment to adjust. You felt no pain, just a delicious stretch inside your walls. When Embry saw that you were relaxed, he pulled himself out a couple of inches and softly thrusted back in, looking for any signs of discomfort. He found none, and continued. He dragged himself in and out of you at a torturous pace that made your breathing pick up yet again. You needed more. You began rocking yourself back onto him, begging for a faster pace, and he complied. He pulled out several inches more this time, shoving back in at a quicker pace that had your toes curling and your moans going up in pitch. At this, he stopped holding back. Embry began pounding into you, hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave the good kind of bruise. You were moaning loudly, brain turning to mush. This is what sex was supposed to be like. What you’d always imagined it would be like. Passionate, loving, amazing.

Embry found himself reaching the edge, but would not allow himself to finish before you. He reached down onto the bed for the small pink toy that you had forgotten about. He flicked it on, brought his other hand down and around your throat to pull you up against him, and held the small vibrator right onto your clit. The pounding pressure of his dick paired with the fervent vibrations had you seeing stars. You came. Hard. You didn’t know how long the orgasm had lasted. When you came to, you were lying on your back on the bed, breathing still labored, as Embry cleaned your thighs off with a damp towel. He noticed you looking up at him.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he cooed.

“Hey,” you responded weakly.

“How ya doing?”

“Really good,” you laughed.

“Yeah?” he beamed at you as you nodded in response. “Good. I’m gonna get you some water and then we can cuddle, okay?” You only smiled in contentment as he walked off into the hallway, returning shortly with a cup of cold water. “Sit up for me?”

“Can’t,” you answered, eliciting a laugh from him.

“C’mon, I’ll help you,” he spoke as he gently held the back of your head, supporting you as you leaned up to drink from the cup he was holding up to your mouth. After you took a few sips, he seemed satisfied and placed the cup on the floor, lying down next to you and pulling you close. “If you start ignoring me after that, I might have to kill you,” he teased.

“Don’t worry. I won’t ever ignore you again.” You sighed in contentment, listening to Embry’s soothing heartbeat, before you began to wonder. “By the way, what the heck kind of research did you do?”

He huffed a laugh before responding, “Some guy on the internet called Owen Grey.”

#twilight #wolf pack #embry call #embry call x reader #embry call smut #twilight smut #sam uley #jacob black #paul lahote #quil ateara #seth clearwater #jared cameron #leah clearwater #edward cullen #embry call x reader smut #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote smut

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

Text

If I Fell For You (Part 1) - The Nanny

Summary: The reader interviews for a new live-in nanny position with Jensen and quickly gets the job but she starts to slowly see that her new employer is going to be different than any other she’s had before...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Slow Burn

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of death of a spouse/death of a parent

A/N: Please enjoy the first part of this series! This was also written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo!

________

If someone had said you’d be celebrating your 30th birthday by accepting an interview to be a live in nanny when you were a kid, you would have told them they were nuts. Beyond nuts. Beyond help for that matter.

But there you were. Thirty. Single. Childless. Taking care of other people’s families and not doing much else with your life. You weren’t sure if your mom would have been on you about the no kids thing or the no boyfriend thing more to be honest.

But the pay was normally good and sometimes great and it gave you a taste of family, even if you were just the help to the adults most of the time.

You buzzed the button by the gate at the end of the driveway, a brief moment passing before it opened. It was probably on a timer like most of the people you’d worked for before, an alarm system kicking on at some point in the evening that required a buzz in, the code or a car sensor. You drove down the driveway and parked a little behind a black SUV. The house was a little modern, a little grand, a little overwhelming. A fence and lots of trees surrounded the property. The yard appeared large but you could see houses on either side. Private but suburban.

The cadillac wasn’t a shocker. Most everyone in these neighborhoods had Escalades. You walked past an open garage on the way up, a muscle car and a more modest smaller SUV parked inside. You went up the very short path and stepped up, ringing the doorbell and fixing your shirt. You were in jeans and a plain gray shirt. It was your normal wear for chasing small children around all day and you weren’t a fan of uniforms.

“Hi,” said a very tired, very handsome man as he opened the door. “You must be from Nanny Core.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N from Home Pair,” you said with a smile. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the door.

“The last girl was from Nanny Core,” he said. He blinked them open and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Yes, Y/N. You’re the one that’s a consultant, not firmly associated with Home Pair, right?”

“Correct,” you said as he opened the door more and you stepped inside.

“Can I ask what the distinction is?”

“Mostly it has to do with benefits,” you said. “Consultants pay out of pocket for their own or negotiate with their client for those to be covered.”

“Gotcha,” he yawned. You looked ahead and he wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I must seem like an ass.”

“You seem tired is all Mr. Ackles. Not a crime,” you said with a smile. He nodded and he returned it, no fake cheesiness to it.

“Mind if we do the interview in the kitchen over a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“Wherever you like, sir,” you said. You took off your shoes when you noticed he didn’t wear any inside and he chuckled as you walked back farther into the house.

“Uh, for the record, call me Jensen. None of that sir stuff. They must teach that at nanny school or something huh?” he said, motioning to a table. “I noticed all of you do it.”

“Something like that,” you said. You took a seat and watched him go to a coffee machine, fumbling with it before he spilled some ground coffee on the counter. He shut his eyes and gripped the counter’s edge, taking a deep breath to himself. “How about I make the coffee and you take a seat, hm?”

“I’m okay,” he said as he opened his eyes.

“Well making you coffee is probably going to come up in my job quite a bit so consider this part of the interview. It’s alright, really,” you said. He glanced over to you and you smiled.

“Thank you,” he said. You swapped places with him and got him a cup going, taking a mug off the counter and waiting a beat before liquid started pouring out. “I’m gonna ask you the same question I’ve asked all seven other women I’ve talked to today.”

“Yes?”

“Why should I trust you to watch my children?”

“Honestly?” you asked as he nodded. You smiled and carried the cup over to him, Jensen taking a long sip. “You shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t. That seems counterproductive.”

“I wouldn’t trust any stranger with my child. Trust is earned, not given. I think the real question is do you believe I’m capable of earning that trust with you and that’s something intrinsically only you know.”

“How so?”

“You meet a lot of different kinds of people with this job. My gut reaction to you is stressed, overwhelmed, sleep-deprived father who doesn’t really want any nanny at all but is forced into this situation. It’s going to be impossible for you to trust any of the seven woman from earlier or me off the bat, Jensen. You should be thinking of who will you come to trust. Who can you count on.”

“This is why my wife should have been the one doing this,” he said, smiling to himself as he drunk down most of the hot liquid.

“We could always re-schedule for when she’s available.”

“Oh, we’d have to wait a very long time for that,” he chuckled. He sat the mug down and glanced down briefly, smiling as he looked up. “She passed away unexpectedly six months ago. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said. He nodded and made a face like he wanted to make a comment. “My mom died kinda unexpectedly. I know it’s...harder.”

“You’re young. How old?”

“Turned thirty today,” you said. He laughed and you heard the life behind it, Jensen shaking his head.

“Well Happy Birthday. I meant with your mother though. If that’s okay with you I mean.”

“It’s fine. I was sixteen,” you said.

“That...fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So does losing your wife,” you said.

“Yes it does. I’ve grieved. We all have. The kids are small. They’ll be okay.”

“Is dad okay?” you asked.

“Yes. Ready to start moving on with life again,” he said with a soft smile. “You’re kind. Not in a I’m trying to get this job kind of way. Just kind.”

“Well being cruel doesn’t sound like very much fun,” you said.

“You’re not trying to impress me.”

“The first rule of nannying, Jensen. You think you’re interviewing us when in reality we’re interviewing you too.”

“How am I doing so far?”

“Nice coffee choice,” you said with a smile that he nodded at. “You respect people. You’ll employ me but won’t treat me like I’m second class. You’re checking the boxes so far.”

“What if I don’t check all the boxes?”

“You don’t get to know the luxury of knowing the answer yet, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Interview isn’t over.”

“You got fucked over by somebody, didn’t you.”

“Also perceptive,” you said. “Like I said, I don’t tolerate being treated unkindly anymore. It’s why I left my last position.”

“I have one more question,” he said. “Would you treat my children like they’re your own?”

“Again, asking the wrong question,” you said. He sat back and crossed his arms, smirking at you.

“What exactly should I be asking?”

“Will you treat my children kindly and with respect but take charge when required?”

“What’s the difference?”

“One is me doing my job and the other is me doing yours.”

“How old did you say you were again?”

“Thirty today.”

“Right. Well I think I know where I stand. Do you have anything for me?”

“Can you show me a picture of your kids?” you asked. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “You answered my question.”

“I didn’t show you anything yet.”

“You’d be surprised how many fathers I’ve met don’t carry pictures of their children in their wallets. That one is just a me thing.”

“Your dad do that?” he asked as he tucked it away.

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. He was polite enough to not go down that route though and this was already getting more personal than you anticipated. “I think I know where I stand as well.”

“I’d like to hire you,” he said.

“Assuming our negotiations go well, I accept,” you said. He held out his hand over the table and you shook it.

“I did come up with what I thought was fair for salary and benefits. Let me go grab the paperwork and hopefully settle on something,” he said. He excused himself and you looked around the house, already trying to familiarize yourself with things. He was more relaxed when he returned with some papers and a notebook, handing you a few sheets. “If I’m missing anything let me know. I-”

“This is my weekly rate?” you asked when you saw the number at the top of the page.

“Oh no. That’s your daily,” he said as he took a seat. “So I think that’s-”

“Jensen,” you said, pushing the paper back. “I have to ask, things like insurance, are those coming out of your pocket or mine?”

“I’ll cover the expenses of your health, dental, all of that. You just choose and I’ll subsize it as part of your paycheck,” he said.

“This is for a live in position. Um...can you just...explain what makes up that daily rate number?” you asked.

“It’s simply your base pay. Obviously I pay for housing, utilities, gas obviously. I will get you a credit card to make purchases with for the kids and all of that so it’s simple to keep track of. You’re free to any of the food in the kitchen. I’m guessing the salary is the sticking point here.”

“Jensen,” you said as you scratched your head.

“I can go up fifty more dollars a day.”

“Jensen. This is way, way too much money. Way too much,” you said. “The average rate around here is about twenty five an hour or two hundred a day. Jensen this is double that. Are you factoring in like time and a half for additional nights and weekends?”

“No. That’d be on top of that. I thought that was a fair value based on the fact you are going to be taking care of the most valuable things in my life. It’s gonna get taxed too so it’s not like you see all of it.”

“You’re sweet, Jensen,” you said, writing down a number at the top of the page. “The average in Austin is twenty five an hour. I would be very happy with that.”

“You have to literally be the first person in existence to negotiate their salary down from the offer,” he said.

“Are you rejecting my offer?” you asked. He took the paper and crossed your number out, jotting down his own and spinning it back. “Jensen.”

“Y/N,” he said, crossing his arms. “I came down. Now it’s your turn. Do you accept?”

You knew thirty five was still way overpriced for the job, especially considering everything else he was paying for.

“I will accept on the condition that you get four hours of what we’d call evening or weekend at the normal rate ever week.”

“I can agree to that,” he said with a smile, writing that down. “So medical plan. Single, plus one, family?”

“Single for all that,” you said.

“I should mention that there is an in-law suite off to the other side of the garage where you’ll be staying. It’s just down the hall but it has its own small living area and kitchenette. There is a separate entrance to it. If you have guests over I just ask you keep them to your area of the house,” he said.

“Absolutely. I don’t tend to bring people over much anyways while I’m on the job,” you said. He let you read over the rest of the benefits, a good amount of sick and vacation time too. Technically you were free evenings and weekends but he could ask you to work longer if he needed you and you were available. Overall everything seemed in order. “Alright. Everything looks good to me.”

“Awesome. Are you available to start Monday?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “It gives me plenty of time to move in things tomorrow so I can jump into the kids routine first thing Monday.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll show you around. We can start with your side of the house.” You got up and followed him over to near the front door and down a long hallway, past a set of doors. There was a frosted glass one to your left just before he pushed open a wide white one.

Behind it was a living area and kitchen. Not huge, about the size of a small apartment. There was a TV and sectional, a table tucked against the wall and a kitchenette like he’d mentioned with full size appliances.

“Like I said, I know it’s small. Please like, seriously watch TV out in the family room at night if you want or hang out wherever or the yard or pool. This is just your own space when you want to be away from us.” You hummed and he showed you a closet and then a bedroom and bathroom. It was simple but decorated nicely and looked relaxing. “If there’s something obvious I’m missing please let me know. A cleaning service does come by every two weeks on Tuesdays at around ten in the morning. They’ll do in here too. Otherwise you can keep after yourself. Cleaning stuff is in the laundry room. Oh yeah. Um, this is probably the last time I’ll like, ever come in here unless you need help moving things in since this will be your space.”

“Thanks. I don’t have too much. I do have one request before we sign all the paperwork.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to meet the kids if that’s alright. There’s not much point in hiring me if they hate me.”

“Fair point. We’ll get ‘em over here and then get you all squared away.”

Monday Morning

“Good morning,” you said, a cup of coffee in your hand already as Jensen yawned.

“Morning,” he mumbled. His hair was a mess and he was in only a pair of boxer briefs before he paused and looked down. “I should probably put on some clothes.”

“This is your house. Wear whatever you normally would. Pretend I’m invisible,” you said as you poured a cup of coffee into a mug for him.

“Sounds like you worked for some real assholes,” he said, graciously taking the cup. “As long as it doesn’t bother you, me walking around in my undies.”

“No, not at all,” you said with a smile. “Would you like me to drop the kids off at school and daycare this morning?”

“Sure,” he said. “Car keys are on the table by the garage.”

“Okay great. I’m used to driving that kind of SUV,” you said. You snuck a look at your schedule you’d printed out again, knowing the twins would get need to get picked up around noon. You started to work on their lunches and snacks for the day while he took out the carton of eggs from the fridge. He cracked one into a pan and turned the heat on, yawning again as he got out some bread and threw it on a plate. “Would you like me to make lunch for you as well?”

“No thank you. I’m getting lunch with my manager today. You don’t have to make me coffee in the morning either, Y/N. Your job is to take care of the kids, not me,” he said.

“A cup of coffee is not difficult, Jensen. My job is to help you so if I can make dad’s life a smidge easier it’ll make theirs better too,” you said with a smile.

“You’re not like, a morning person are you,” he chuckled. “I don’t do peppy in the morning.”

“Oh no. I’m always a little nervous when I start a new job. I’ll get a rhythm down soon,” you said.

“So what do you normally do once the kids are dropped off?” he asked as he got out a spatula.

“On a weekday I’ll review their schedule, see if anything different is going on. An average day like today I will clean their rooms, their bathroom, do some laundry while they’re at school, maybe some shopping. I’ll pick up the twins, bring them home for lunch, a little playtime, a nap. We’ll have some quiet time and maybe a craft or coloring before we get JJ from school. Then I’ll give them all a snack, we can get outside and play to get some energy out. I’ll help JJ with any schoolwork she has while the twins play and then I will start on dinner about the time you’ll be getting home. Since you have no plans currently tonight I’ll leave you guys be at that point until tomorrow unless you ask me for help.”

“So when do you take a break?” he asked.

“Naptime. I’ll have lunch with the twins. Don’t worry about me Jensen. That’s my normal plan but if you would like me to run some errands in the morning I can,” you said.

“No, no. Just…” he trailed off. “I still want to make them breakfast and dinner and play with them too is all.”

“We’ll figure out the right mix of things,” you said. “You just gotta tell me is all, okay? It can vary day to day too,”

“Yeah,” he said, taking his fried egg out of the pan and placing it on one piece of bread. He made a sandwich and took a big bite, looking out the back window. “I never asked. How was your birthday?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dropping some carrots into a reusable bag.

“On Saturday you said it was your 30th. You do anything fun that night?” he asked with a soft smile.

“I got a new job. That was the highlight of my day,” you said, Jensen cocking his head. “I ordered pizza, binged netflix. My normal Saturday routine.”

“I know everybody jokes about 30 but it’s really just jokes. Wait until you’re 42,” he chuckled. “Then you really feel old.”

“Most 42 year olds would kill to look like you,” you said. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s alright. I took it as a compliment,” he said, smiling again. “So you did nothing for your birthday, huh?”

“Uh, no,” you said, mixing in some grapes into each of the snack bags.

“I’m gonna get you a birthday cake,” he said.

“Mr. Ackles-”

“I thought I said it’s Jensen. I’m the boss so what I say goes. We’re gonna have a birthday cake for you tonight. So. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Whatever you want is perfectly fine.”

“Y/N.”

“...I like red velvet,” you said. He smiled and chuckled.

“That was my wife’s favorite,” he said. “Haven’t had that since her birthday. She would have liked you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re quite kind to me. She was always protective of me, even if she was the scaredy cat most of the time.”

“Can I ask how…” you said as he took another bite.

“Accident. Tractor trailer versus her car. He tried to miss her but it was too late. I wanted to hate the guy too but it was an accident and I couldn’t blame him for that.”

“My father died in a car crash when I was six. It does get better with time,” you said.

“That’s why you didn’t know if he had a picture of you in his wallet or not,” he said as you nodded. “You’re too young to have that much tragedy in life.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not young anymore.”

“You’re young and overly generous,” you said with a smile.

“Misery loves company,” he said as you both heard a few feet above you running around. “Munchkins are up.”

“You want to make breakfast or should I?” you asked.

“Give me five minutes to get them in some clean clothes. Then I can show you how they like their eggs.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jensen.”

Later That Evening

“Y/N?” said Jensen, knocking on the door to your room. You got up from the couch and answered it, Jensen standing there with a smile. “The kids and I were wondering if you’d like your birthday cake for dessert.”

“You actually got me a cake?”

“I did indeed,” he said. You followed him down the hall and back into the living space, Arrow running up to you.

“Y/N! Are you sleeping over?” she asked as she gave you a hug.

“I live just down the hall now, cutie,” you said.

“Daddy, can we have ice cream too?” asked Zeppelin as he climbed up into his chair at the table.

“Sure thing bud. Girls, would you like some too?” he asked. Both the little ones said yes as he looked back at you.

“I really shouldn’t,” you said.

“We eat ice cream in this house,” he said.

“You don’t have to twist my arm over it,” you said. He got out the container and set it down on the table by the cake, lighting the match on the candle on top. “Oh please don’t-”

He started to sing though and the kids joined in, Jensen having a really good voice actually. You blew out the candle when they were through and he dished up some dessert for everyone.

“Y/N, can you read me a bedtime story later?” asked Zeppelin and you glanced at his father, Jensen making a face.

“Well Y/N’s not at work right now so she doesn’t have to unless she wants to,” said Jensen. “We’re already cutting into her-”

“I would love to, Zepp,” you said, his little face lighting up. “Maybe you guys want to join us?”

“JJ’s a little big to get read to at night I’ve been told,” said Jensen.

“Am not,” she said. “I can get a story too, right?”

“Of course,” you said. You took a bite of the cake and hummed. “This is really good.”

“I bought it myself,” said Jensen.

“Well you have good taste,” you said. “In fact, I’m gonna have another slice.”

“Good,” he said as Zeppelin grabbed the ice cream container. “Alright, alright. You can have a bit more, bud.”

“Night, JJ,” you said, getting a hug from her as you put her back to bed an hour later. JJ smiled from her bed and you flicked off the light, pulling the door shut after you turned on her night light.

“Thanks for giving up your night with them. I didn’t mean to have that happen,” said Jensen as you headed downstairs with him.

“It’s no problem. It’s good bonding for us,” you said. You helped him pick up the plates at the table and wash them off, Jensen grabbing a bottle of whiskey from a tall cabinet as you covered up what was left of the cake.

“Drink?” he asked.

“A small one,” you said. He poured a single into a whiskey glass and slid it over to you, smirking when you took a sip. “Oh that’s smooth.”

“Very,” he said, drinking from his own glass. “Thank you for tonight. JJ’s been…”

“She’s the oldest. She’s gonna have a harder time with it.”

“You were about her age when your dad died you said?”

“She’ll be okay. She’ll miss her but it won’t be a deep pain. She’ll have nice memories of her mom. She’s doing pretty good, trust me.”

“Can I ask another personal question?”

“I’m off the clock. Shoot,” you said.

“Your mom ever...try again with someone else?”

“Yes. Years later she found a good guy. He actually is who I stayed with after she passed. He’s married now, has some kids of his own but I know if I call him up he’d drop everything for me.”

“Good. I was getting afraid you were a complete Shakespeare tragedy,” he chuckled.

“Nah. I’m not at that level of crazy in my life,” you said. “As long as we’re off the clock, can I ask if you’re asking because you’re thinking of getting back out there?”

“I am. My wife kind of insisted on it. When we first got serious we had this deal that we’d go try again if something happened. I mean, I don’t cry everytime I think about her now. I can smile and be happy and that ache doesn’t try to swallow me up everyday anymore. I think it’s time I could get back out there.”

“I’d say it is. The kids are ready. They’ll understand.”

“You think your mom loved the second guy as much as your dad?”

“For sure. She was a bit of a free spirit but she didn’t think you had to have just one soulmate. She told me that after she’d met Ray. She said she got two so maybe I had two out there. I haven’t found either one of them yet so I’ll take increasing my odds as best I can.”

“Well you’re not gonna meet your soulmate sitting at home on Saturday nights, Y/N.”

“Just a lot of douchey guys,” you said.

“Ah. You need to meet a better kind of guy is all,” he said.

“Yeah see I’m thirty. All the good guys are married by now.”

“Oh all of them are taken. I didn’t realize that,” he said with a chuckle. “What am I then? Another douchebag?”

“You don’t count. You’re…”

“Too old for you?” he chuckled.

“My boss. Plus you’re like famous. You can go get like a victoria secret model or something.”

“Looks ain’t everything.”

“Maybe I ought to try older guys now that you say that,” you said.

“Y/N, you gotta be careful with that. I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of.”

“And this is why I watch netflix on Saturday nights,” you said.

“You serious about the older guy crack?” he asked.

“I do find them more...attractive sometimes. I guess it depends on how old. Why?”

“I got a friend my age, might be interested?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you said. “No offense to your friend but...I mean if he’s 42...I want kids and stuff you know? Although a dude it doesn’t really matter how old...I don’t know.”

“It was just a thought,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll think about it,” you said. “He’s not a weirdo, right.”

“No. He’s an actor. Something to think about,” he said.

“I will,” you said. “Thank you for the birthday cake, Jensen. You’re a good person.”

“I bought a cake.”

“Yeah but I haven’t really had one of those in years. You’re a good person.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said as you slid off your seat. “You’re free to hang out if you like.”

“I’m kinda tired. I won’t be getting up that early from now on I don’t think.”

“I completely understand,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#tell me a story bingo #SPN #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen acklees #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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aminiatureworld · 3 years ago

Text

Opposites

Characters: Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,594

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: In which the reader is the brain and Xiao is the brawn

Author’s Note: I wasn’t sure what the general setting should be so I put it in a vaguely college/university setting. Prolly cause that’s around my age and also because I cordially dislike highschool AUs. Hopefully that works out alright!

I had to type out almost 2,000 words on my iphone. I never want to do that again.

Xiao

Honestly none of your friends are actually sure how you two got together.

After all, if someone were to take a picture of you and your partner side-by-side then show it to people not in the know, well the prevailing emotion would be something along the lines of: “Are they classmates or neighbors or something?”

To be fair, when the two of your first met even the idea that you would ever end up in love was something laughable. Having been pushed together for a project, your knee-jerk reaction had been: Oh I’m totally going to end up doing this all by myself.

Thankfully however you’d been quickly proven wrong. Although Xiao hadn’t necessarily been the best about planning and other such things, his work was organized and he always showed up to every meeting with his parts completed.

By the end of the project you never wanted to work with another person on a group project again.

And, to be completely honest, you’d definitely developed a crush on your slightly aloof group partner.

Xiao’s reaction was much harder to read.

At first he appeared to want nothing to do with you. Work was emailed to you with not so much as a subject line; meetups passed in awkward silence broken by tentative questions on your part. You’d sort of assumed that he saw you as annoying and the group work as useless - which to be fair it sort of was useless.

So when he emailed you a few weeks later asking for your number and if you wanted to do something, well, safe to say you almost fell out of your chair.

Though the start was a little awkward, Xiao’s conversational nature didn’t develop much in general, you two fell into a routine of sorts, a relationship of unspoken boundaries and spontaneous confidences.

During the first few weeks of you odd sort of relationship you’d come to the conclusion that, though not a talker, Xiao was ultimately quite apathetic in nature. Eventually however you realized apathetic wasn’t the right term.

Though he might’ve appeared sullen on the outside, Xiao never actually acted in a way that hinted at any resentment or irritation; he never dragged his feet about something or implied it was stupid that you should ask for help or for a favor.

His assertiveness, which might’ve been mistaken for aloofness, was endearing. Xiao never half-asses anything, even when if wasn’t doing something for another person, like you.

You appreciated this side of his personality, the fact that he was quick to act, admired if even. It certainly stood in stark contrast to your tendency to overthink things, something that could quickly end up kneecapping you depending on what decisions were being debated.

It was an alien concept to you, the sort of philosophy Xiao seemed to live by, and its novelty was refreshing.

As your thoughts slid more and more to focusing on Xiao you became more and more aware of the rumors that abounded about him.

He was a troubled youth, he was prone to fighting, he had been so uncontrollable in secondary school that only one teacher had been able to get him to do anything. The only times he spoke was to wound, and he never had a word to say that wasn’t angry.

Well, obviously that wasn’t the truth, but any attempt to clear up the situation was quickly met with odd stares and responses that all smacked of: “Oh you poor idiot, you just haven’t learned yet.”

You would’ve liked to think that you didn’t let it affect your relationship with him, but evidently the rumors had begun to catch up to you.

“Hey, you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Have I?” You shifted awkwardly in your seat. Xiao sighed, evidently aware of where this was going.

“It’s because of what people say about me, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“I see.”

That had been the beginning and the end of the conversation for quite some time, almost as if Xiao had yet to decide whether or not you were one of the few in whom he could entrust the truth. Yet despite the rumors and the odd looks you still found yourself gravitating towards Xiao, and soon enough that initial pull turned into something much deeper.

The day that you two became “official” was the day Xiao told you the truth. He had been a delinquent as a teenager.

Born into a family full of troubles Xiao shouldered the circumstances as best he could.

However things cannot stay untouched forever; the distress that Xiao experienced only grew, the pressure ratcheting up with every incident, every item thrown to the ground, every fight that ended in humiliating pain.

Eventually it became too much, and when it did Xiao took his anger out not on his family, not on the people who had failed him, but on any classmate who antagonized the vulnerable child.

Fights became a regular part of Xiao’s life until university, and it was only in meeting his mentor, Zhongli, that the lost young man had managed to pull his life together.

Things made more sense after that, though one couldn’t say that everything was right with the world. Students, coworkers, the particularly idiotic TA, all of them still carried the sense that Xiao was not to be trusted. You could see how it upset your partner sometimes, when he was ignored at the coffeeshop or excluded from class group chars in the like.

Whenever he did that Xiao tended to retreat into himself, as if worried he might explode again. It took a lot of coaxing to get him out of such situations but it was always worth it to see your partner’s expression soften, to see his small smile once more.

What you didn’t tell him was that you were just as angry as he was, just as resentful at the people within your major which were hellbent on acting like they were still in high school.

Eventually however the trials of your early were utterly forgotten, the questions and the secrets replaced by a sense of slightly hilarious domestic bliss.

You were definitely the brains of the group, something Xiao didn’t seem to mind - though he probably would find that actual statement somewhat silly.

Xiao, on the other hand, held the esteemed position of Person Who Actually Got Stuff Done. You relied on him to get you out of your mental spirals, to pull you out of your room and out of your brain fog and to get you to do something; even if it wasn’t the thing you were thinking about.

In return it was your job to make sure Xiao didn’t get himself killed doing something stupid.

Xiao’s reticence masked an almost supernatural recklessness. Though your partner didn’t own a motorbike, if he had you were completely convinced he’d ride one without a helmet. His almost total disinterest in his own safety was something that you brain shrunk from, and more often than not a crazy plan of his would end with you listing the terrible things that might happen if something were to go wrong, even if those things weren’t always the most realistic.

There was a storm in twenty minutes? It was the perfect time for a walk! There was cavern nearby with tunnels were so tight you had to walk single file? Sure why not!

He would talk about such things as if there was nothing to it, as if it didn’t send your heart rate spiking. There wasn’t the slightest acknowledgment of danger. Even his tone was as gruff as usual, as if it was the most natural thing to want to go mountain climbing, not interesting enough to get even a little excited about.

It was probably good he did martial arts. You didn’t even want to think about where all that energy would go otherwise.

Xiao’s straightforward nature came out in softer ways too, ways that you envied much more than his full-steam-ahead recklessness.

He was never afraid to state what was on his mind. Whether it was correcting a waiter who got his order wrong or telling a rude doormats to fuck off, all these things were natural to him.

To be honest you completely envied that aspect of him, unable go replicate such a mindset in yourself.

When you’d commented on it once Xiao had stared oddly at you. After a moment he told you that he figured it came from his background. Sometimes you had to learn how to say “no” or “that’s wrong” or “you’re a shitty person.”

Just as you tried to curb the most extreme parts of Xiao’s recklessness, so too did Xiao work to bring you out of the spirals your mind went down sometimes, and so did he try to coax you out of the overthinking that kept you from asserting yourself in your life.

Saying you two were complete opposites wouldn’t really be accurate. You shared similar views, similar passions, similar opinions on what mattered. Yet it was true that, in some ways, you complemented one another. And when it came to those traits in which you differed, well you would like to think that your differences just made you stronger as a couple.

Maybe your friends couldn’t understand how you two got together, or why you were so deeply in love with the person you’d chosen to be your partner. But you didn’t care.

You loved Xiao with all your soul, and, at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

#genshin impact fanfiction #xiao x reader #genshin impact #genshin xiao #requested #headcanons #my writing

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gomgeomeogmeogmy · 3 years ago

Note

Hi :) my friend recommended me your Tumblr and I've asked stuff before so I thought maybe I should do it again

I really like the theme of this fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/33668362/chapters/83671462 and it hasnt been updated

TW: s3lfh@rm

I'd like to ask for headcanons about Todd dealing with depression and self harm (with Neil helping him cuz i luv anderperry)

I'm sorry if this triggers you, i wanted to see my favourite character dealing with similar struggles as me

Tysm anyways

Okay!! So, before I get into this, I do want to put a HUGE TW on this post, this post WILL mention self-harm and struggles with depression and anxiety.

I want to make it clear: I am by no means attempting to romanticize this topic, as someone who struggles with SH, that is the last thing I ever want to do. If I write something that seems like that, please do not hesitate to call me out.

Here we go! Last TW

Todd dealing with SH and depression/anxiety

Switching to Welton was extremely difficult for Todd, we know this

He felt the pressure of living up to his brothers standards, pleasing his parents, his teachers, and worrying about not fitting in

He always struggled with SH, since he was in grade school, so it was nothing new, but it definitely got a lot worse once he started at Welton

Meeting Neil, Charlie and all the others helped him feel more comfortable, but at the same point it kind of made it harder for him

He couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding in their dynamic, all of them having been friends for their previous years at Welton, a few even before that, and here he was trying to shove his way in

One night, Neil was out late at a play rehearsal and Todd had one of the worst anxiety attacks of his teen years

He wanted so desperately to go get Charlie or Knox, maybe even Meeks, but he couldn’t get himself to, he was so scared of what they would think about him, so he resorted to his usual coping mechanism, self harm

He didn’t want to, but it didn’t feel like he was in control, he didn’t feel like he had a choice

The next few days after that, he was really off, everyone noticed

He was talking even less than usual, walking behind the group instead of with them, wearing extra layers, always seemed to be making himself as small as he possibly could

What really worried them was the way he winced Every time someone touched his leg

Neil and Charlie were the first two who saw it

Charlie had gone to pat Todd’s leg after making a joke, but he quickly pulled his hand away when he saw the pained wince

He and Neil shared a quick, knowing look. Something was seriously wrong

Neil was cautious with Todd the rest of the day, keeping a close eye on him to notice every change in his behavior to see if he could figure out what was wrong

That night, when Todd got up to go to the restroom, Neil got a gut feeling that he needed to look through the trash

He felt weird about it, but he did it, and his heart suck to his feet when he saw the bloodied tissues. Him and charlie were right

Todd walked in right as Neil found them, both of them stopped and stared at each other

“Todd…?”

Todd broke down again, instantly hyperventilating and sobbing and apologizing profusely

Neil panicked, no doubt crying himself as he attempted to comfort his friend

He quickly pulled todd into a tight hug, carefully sitting both of them down on Neil’s bed as he shushed and comforted Todd

After about a half an hour, todd stopped crying, but he was still shaking and refusing to meet Neil’s eyes

(The rest of this will be in writing/story form)

“Todd, you know I’m not angry, right?”

Todd stayed silent, keeping his head down.

“I’m really not mad. I’m just- worried about you… we all are.”

Todd’s head snapped up, his eyes wide and afraid.

“The others know too?!”

“No no no! And-and they won’t know if you don’t want me to tell them, I promise, but you’ve been off for the last few days, we’ve all been worried sick about you, Todd.”

“I’m…im sorry, I don’t want to worry you guys-“

“Well, that’s part of what being a friend is. We love you Todd, I love you, we all just want you to be okay. Can… can I ask why?”

Todd went quiet again, the tension so thick you could slice it with a knife.

“I didn’t want to… I was just-I had an anxiety attack, and I didn’t want to annoy Charlie or Knox or any of the guys, I tried to stop myself but it didn’t feel like I was in control, I’m sor-“

“Todd, you don’t need to apologize. Look, I’ve been there before, okay? I’ve done the same thing, I know exactly what it feels like. I also know that Charlie, Knox and any of the others would never be annoyed if you came to them for help, shit, I think most of them would be flattered that you trusted them enough.”

Todd looked away again, obviously not believing a word Neil said. Neil sighed and grabbed Todd’s hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“I know it’s hard, I know that better than anyone, but we love you, so much todd, all of us do, and we want you to be okay. You don’t have to ever tell us anything you don’t want to, but please, if you ever get the urge again can you just…come to one of us? Any of us, really. You don’t need to give details just-just talk to us, be with us, we care, and we’ll all help as much as we possibly can.”

Todd met Neil’s eyes, and Neil gave him a soft smile. Todd’s eyes grew glossy, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll try…”

Neil’s smile grew. He pulled Todd into a tight hug, and Todd couldn’t help but melt into the comforting touch.

“You’re so important to us Todd. Don’t ever think for a second that we don’t want you around, or that you’re annoying us. We love you so so so much. I love you, so much more than you know. Everyone here just wants you to be okay.”

“I…thank you, Neil.”

Back to HC style

The next day, Todd was already seeming a little better

Neil made sure to keep a close eye on him, but he acted like everything was normal, he knew it sucked to have the attention drawn to you when you weren’t feeling good, so he tried to avoid making that happen

The group was obviously thrilled that they had their Todd back, all of them talking to him and joking with him like they hadn’t seen him in days

Neil and Charlie looked at each other again, charlie giving him an “is everything okay?” Look, to which Neil simply nodded and grinned

Todd might not have been fantastic right now, but he was better than yesterday, and that’s all that really mattered

Please, if you ever have the urge to hurt yourself, reach out to someone you trust or find a way to distract yourself. I know what the feeling is like, I know it all too well, but I can also promise you that it is not worth it.

You are so important, and you do not deserve to be hurt.

If you need alternatives to self harming, please look at this list. It gives lots of good alternatives that are far better than harming yourself in anyway

You are loved, you are important, and you matter. <3

#dead poets society #steven meeks #neil perry #charlie dalton #deadpoetsociety #richard cameron #todd anderson #gerard pitts #knox overstreet #john keating #anderperry #stephan meeks #TW

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pompadourpink · 3 years ago

Note

hey mom this might be a bit heavy and long, sorry!

how do you live past your mental illness? i graduated after having been convinced i wouldnt make it for years. now im in college and its hard to actually imagine a real future for myself, or even feel motivated for it, yanno? ive been studying french for like 5 years and im still in intermediate/beginner purgatory, so self studying isnt going well either. i guess, how do i set goals and stick to/feel accomplished by them? i dont think i ever learned how

thanks!!!

Hello dear,

I had chronic depression for more than a decade and thought from the bottom of my heart that I would never survive it or beat it and I did, so I have loads to say.

The stuff that torments you most likely exists only inside your head - as in, no one else thinks that. It sounds stupid but it is not: if someone tells you that you're bright, if someone likes you, if someone trusts you with something, don't tell them or think that they are wrong. They made their decision and stand by it. In high school, I convinced myself that I was unlovable, ignored/pushed away anyone who liked me, then spent years complaining about being completely lonely and miserable, and that was entirely my doing. I could have been happy, and I wasn't. Trust others and allow them in your circle, even if your brain tells you it's a scam. It's not. Don't make yourself sadder than you already are.

Rebrand. I used to see myself as a plate that had been thrown on the floor many times and kept being broken into smaller and smaller pieces, which made it harder and harder to reconstruct fully. I also used to picture my depression as some type of vicious little demon that was riding on my back, biting and wounding my shoulders with its sharp teeth and long claws, and taking all the pleasure in the world in never letting me have one moment of peace. After making many changes in my life (cutting ties, better people, therapy, prioritising myself), I began seeing my wounds as bruises that would eventually heal, and, more importantly, after watching The seventh seal, I started picturing depression/Death as No-face from Spirited away: massive, a bit creepy, silent, always by my side, but not evil, not malicious, just there. After a while, it felt like a reassuring presence who had been standing next to me faithfully for most of my life, and when I beat depression, my oldest friend waved and went away. So long, my dear, until we meet again!

Obviously, get a therapist if you can afford one, but even if you can, talk to as many people as you can and read a lot, especially about psychology and psychiatry. I started feeling better in 2018 and beat depression in March 2020, ironically, because everyone on social media started getting symptoms of depression (feeling like crap, gaining weight, having issues with hygiene, etc.) which no one normally talked about, and I realised I wasn't broken, I just had been having a normal reaction to an abnormal situation. Hear as many points of view as you can so you can make an educated decision.

When it comes to the future, think of what you've loved your entire life. When I think of my current life, everything I have has been carried since childhood. Don't study for a particular job, but work for a particular life. Identify what makes you happy, what you are good at, what you love, and focus on that stuff and that stuff only. Become excellent at those things, and find a way to make a living out of it - you don't have to follow the regular path, everything is temporary anyway, and what matters is that you're happy. That's it.

When it comes to goals, the first step is to find out what meaning you want to give to your life: two questions here, the first being what is my greater purpose? And the other what is my biggest personal goal? The second step is to declutter. And I don't mean declutter your wardrobe - declutter everything. Your house, head, diet, relationships, beliefs, habits; anything that doesn't serve you, brings you closer to your main goal or purpose, makes you miserable, has to go. The third step is to question constantly why you want to do things: do you actually (why?), or are you trying to impress someone, or to reach another person's dream? If you can't manage to do something, either you need to cut it into smaller pieces and treat yourself after reaching each milestone, or admit that you don't actually want to do it. In the case of French, check out my Google drive and read Goosebumps, or tweets, or sing along karaoke on Youtube. Make it fun, easy, frequent but short, and be nicer to yourself.

Love and power,

Mum

#ask #malks

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donutloverxo · 4 years ago

Text

No more waiting

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - Part two to Pink Lady.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - Andy is determined to wait. But will he be able to?

Warnings - 18+ only smut (m/f), professor/student relationship, unprotected sex, dom Andy, many mentions of spanking but no actual spanking, sir kink.

Pairing - Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 3320

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You groaned as you tossed out yet another piece of clothing. Professor Barber had asked you to come to his house, so he could give you ‘private lessons’. Obviously, you had no interest in actually studying. Especially with a man who looks like Andy Barber. You intended on milking the time you did have with him by getting what you wanted.

You settled on a tight skirt that hadn’t fit you in years. It was sexy enough to be enticing but innocent enough that you could claim plausible deniability.

You are not trying to tease him. You would never! You’re just wearing a normal skirt and taking lessons like the diligent and sincere student that you are.

You whistled lowly, pulling over in front of his house, impressed by the sheer size of it. He was an actual adult with a big, sophisticated house in the suburbs. The most valuable thing you owned was a Louis Vuitton bag an ex gave you.

You couldn’t be intimidated. Not now, when you were in this deep. Checking your lipstick one last time you rang the bell, holding your books up and eagerly waiting.

After a minute he opened the door. Leaning over the frame and examining you.

You felt butterflies pool in your stomach at his casual loungewear. His sleeves rolled up, exposing his tones arms to you and those dark jeans hugging him so perfectly. You really couldn’t decide if you preferred this or those business suits.

“You’re late.” he scolded you as you rolled your eyes. Of course that’s the first thing he'd say to you. “What have I said about rolling your eyes at me?” he cocked his head to the side, as if daring you to provoke him.

You hummed in thought, “I don’t remember.... Oh yes!” you beamed as if you’d had an epiphany “to do it as often as I can!”

He stared you down for a moment before shaking his head as he chuckled. “Get in here. What am I going to do with you?”

You were about to be a smartass some more, cooking up a dirty response in your head, just to see how far you could push him but then he put his hand on your lower back. You felt shivers run up your spine, goose bumps all over your skin as you squirmed under his touch.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, shutting the door behind you.

You gulped as you nodded, “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? I’m just here to study.” You laughed to ease your own nerves.

“Go sit on the table,” he instructed.

You pulled out a chair, placing your books on the dining table. He sat in front of you, nursing a beer. “Let’s start. Where do you struggle the most?”

“Can I have one too?” You were about to take the bottle from him to take but he swatted your hands away.

“Absolutely not. You need a clear head to study. And we both know you can’t handle your alcohol.”

You scoffed incredulously, “I can so! And if I can’t have it then neither should you.” you puffed your cheeks before mumbling “beer tastes gross anyway.”

“Why do you have to make everything so difficult?” he groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s not forget, I’m doing you a favor here.”

“I know, maybe I could thank you for it.” you licked your lips. Thinking of his heavy cock in your mouth, the biggest you’ve ever had, it was a challenge to deep throat him. You weren’t one to just give it away for free and not expect anything in return. But... anything for professor Barber.

“That’s cute,” he said condescendingly, giving you a fake wide smile. “Now start studying or I’ll have to spank you,” he warned.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you giggled shamelessly, not really understanding how that would be a punishment, but then opened your book when he gave you a stern look.

He got up and walked to the stove check on his sauce. He just needed to get away from you for a moment and take a breather.

He hasn’t thought this through.

His original plan was to tutor you and get your grades up. So that you could graduate and he could ask you out without endangering his job and reputation. He intended to keep his hands to himself till then. One slip up and you both would have to face grave consequences.

The blow job in his office - was a mistake. Although it was too good to be something he mourned or regretted. He should’ve said no but you knew just to push his buttons. Just like the ridiculous schoolgirl skirt you were wearing tonight. Or how your tight shirt and cleavage left nothing to his imagination.

Worse of all was that fucking red lip. He hated that you had tasted him and he couldn’t even kiss you. What he wouldn’t give for just a quick peck.

“Mr Barber,” he heard you call for him and groaned as his cock stirred at your chirpy tone. He loathed just how far gone he was for you. You, sitting up so sweetly with your breasts pushed up together, certainly don’t make it any easier.

“I’m all done. Can we get on to the fun part now? Pretty please?” you cooed batting your lashes at him.

“The fun part is studying - keep telling yourself that and you might actually like it.” he suggested and you rolled your eyes again. He had half a mind to bend you over the table, lift up your skirt and pull down your panties, even though he was pretty sure you weren’t wearing any, and teach you a lesson. “Careful. Or they’ll get stuck up there.” He tapped your forehead with his finger.

“I meant the actual fun part.” Boldly, you reached over and palmed his crotch through his jeans. Not really surprised to find him aroused.

“Stop,” he gritted as he grabbed at your wrist with a bruising grip. “I told you, we’re not doing that. Not till you graduate or I’ll lose my job.”

“What about what we did in your office?” you pouted.

“That was a mistake. You left me no choice.”

You frowned, “Right. I overpowered you because you’re so weak and helpless.”

“Enough. Now study and then we can have dinner.”

“And then we have dessert?” You wiggled your brows suggestively.

“No. Then you drive back to your dorm.” he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes and sat across you, working on his cases. Maybe that would inspire you to actually get some studying done.

“Do you not like law?” he asked after over an hour.

You hummed as you heard him. Too engrossed in studying, you didn’t even register his words. You didn’t remember the last time you had concentrated so well. “Meh. It’s alright I guess. I wouldn’t wanna go to law school though.”

“Then what do you want to do?” he dropped his pen leaning back on the chair, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I don’t know. I guess what you do sounds nice,” you mumbled making notes with your glitter pens.

“Being a DA?”

“Yeah. It just sounds so hard though. Like going to law school and then being an intern for years and then working for like eighty hours a week...”

“Anything worth having is always hard to achieve.” he stated. Aware of how the same applies to his situation. He wants, no needs you, but if he wants to do this the right way - he has to wait.

“I guess you’re right.” you agreed.

After going over your notes and quizzing you, he was satisfied with your progress. He set the table for dinner.

“Good job,” he smiled, feeling his heart swell with pride. “See, you put your mind to something and you can absolutely achieve it.”

You squinted your eyes, “No spanking then?”

He chuckled “Nope. Not for now. I’m your tutor, that’s all.” he said more so to himself, to remember, to have some self control, it will pay off.

“Oh my gosh!” you moaned as the creamy tangy sauce burst your taste buds “I can’t remember the last time I ate something that wasn’t ramen.”

He shook his head “You need to eat better to study better.”

“But I don’t know how to cook!” you whined.

“Then I guess I’ll have you teach you that too.”

He helped you pack your things up, moving as slow as a sloth. Not wanting you to leave just yet. He couldn’t have enough of you. Maybe he’d ask you to stay in the guestroom. He had a perfectly good excuse, it was late. But he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to keep his hands off of you.

“Goodbye then. I’m going to quiz you tomorrow. Don’t forget.” he said walking you to his door. He turned to see you blinking up at him.

He never thought he’d be so smitten with someone so different than him. All his life he dated women his age or older. They suited his old soul much better, none of his relationships really went anywhere, maybe he was too cautious to actually let someone in. To open up enough, to reveal his true self to anyone.

But you were unlike anyone he had ever met, it was as if you were exotic. So bright - almost blinding. So young and sweet. You made him feel things he never thought he could. You could be the proverbial ying to his yang.

“Yeah yeah, I remember,” you waved him off. Still salty that you didn’t get to do any of the naughty stuff you had planned. “Is there something on my face?” You touched your cheek when you caught him staring at you. Letting out a shaky breath and cowering under his predatory gaze.

“I’ll try harder next time!” you panicked, assuming you did a bad job at studying. You tried your best. What else were you supposed to do? The idea of a spanking sounded more scary than sexy to you now.

“Fuck it,” he gritted as he crashed his lips over yours, grabbing your waist and your hip to still you. He invaded your mouth with his tongue, taking his time to explore all your nooks. Sucking your bottom lip between his lips before releasing it with a smack he pulled away. Both of you heaving and trying to catch your breath.

You threw your arms around his neck, pressing hot and quick kisses “I thought we were going to wait,” you said against his lips.

“I can’t. I thought I could. I’m only a man, you know?” he sighed as he pulled you in, exploring your body with his hands “What do you want to do?” As impatient as he was, he would never force himself on you or do anything without your permission.

“I just... I - ” Your cheeks instantly heat up as you stutter. As naughty as your filthy mind was, it had to choose this moment to betray you. “You know, you know! Oh my god,” you smacked your forehead “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes,” he breathed, leaning down to suck your earlobe “say it.” He peppered butterfly kisses on your jaw and down your neck. Sucking thoroughly on a spot that made you moan.

“Fine!” you huffed. Feeling his fingers ghost over your inner thighs. “Professor – sir, will you please fuck me. As in put your man missile in my special princess place.” you said in a mock seductive tone.

“Don’t sass me.” he groaned, pushing his erection into you, he put his hands on your shoulders to turn you around, lightly smacking your butt he urged you to go upstairs. “Come on, hurry up. We don’t have all night.” You did have all night but his patience, as it often did with you, was running thin.

You made yourself comfortable on his bed, working on his belt and unzipping his pants. “I’ve never been this addicted to a cock before, professor,” you husked pulling him out of his underwear and licking a firm stripe up his slit, his hand holding onto your head. “I hope you know you’re special.” you beamed at him through hooded eyes. Wrapping your lips around his weeping tip, about to swallow him whole but he pushes your head away.

“Right back at ya, honey. Now,” he laid down on his back beside you as you stared at him, so adorably confused, “come sit on my face.”

“What?!” you unintentionally screamed -in delightful horror. It had always been a fantasy of yours, so downright dirty, and you have a chance to do it with your dream man? You would be a fool to turn him down, but you were anxious, that beard between your thighs would be a bit too much for you to handle.

He didn’t give you any time to think about it, grabbing your hips and swiftly placing you on top of his head, “Oh!” you yelped at the coarse feel of his whiskers against your pussy. You held onto his short silky locks for support as he worked on steadying you “That’s - ” you were cut off when he wrapped his mouth around your clit, sucking it harshly.

“You’re already so wet,” The vibrations from his words sent a jolt up your spine “And you’re not wearing any panties,” he tutted before diving back in, determined to not stop until you’re seeing stars.

“Are you really surprised - holy shit,” you gasped as you felt his tongue prodding at your entrance before slipping in. It was so strange and new, the velvety warm feel of it was almost too good. “Oh, I’m gonna come.” you whimpered.

“No,” he pulled away “you don’t come without permission. Is that understood?”

You frantically nod your head, under any other circumstances you would’ve argued, who the hell does he think he is to deny or control your orgasms? But you were putty in his hands and desperate to have that sweet release. “Please, sir, can I come?”

“May I come.” He corrected you “You need to learn some manners.”.

And you had to supress the urge to call him names, “May I come, sir? Please.” you said breathlessly as he lapped you up.

“Yes, you may.”

You sobbed, his fingers digging into your ass and his tongue working magic on you was too good all at once. A string of curses and loud moans left your mouth, your climax hitting you in waves of pleasure, you held onto the headboard as your legs turned into jello.

“That was amazing,” you panted, mewling as he nipped at your sensitive flesh.

You got off of him, kneeling beside him as he got up, his beard drenched in your juices which he rubbed off with the back of his hand. Placing a sloppy kiss on your lips, to make you taste your own arousal, he pushed you down on his mattress and worked on ridding you of your clothes.

You pulled the helm of his shirt up “Off!” you whined. He was too far gone to chastise you so he took off his clothes, throwing them away before he got a good look at you.

He groaned at your naked form. He had thought of you while pleasuring himself more than once. He wouldn’t even be bothered to be ashamed of it. He thought of your lips and small hands wrapped around his girth, how tight and hot your cunt would feel, but most of all how beautiful you’d look when you were completely bare.

He painted a pretty picture in his head, but really, he never could do you any justice. His imagination could never be that strong.

“Is something wrong?” you bashfully averted your eyes from him.

“No. You’re just so... perfect.” he couldn’t come up with a better word.

You scoffed, “You’re just saying that. There are a million things I’d change about myself. I’m not the one who’s perfect!” you frowned. Tempted to touch his defined abs. His broad shoulders and bulky form looked ridiculously big between your legs.

“I don’t have time to argue,” He absolutely would not have you or anyone else, putting you down. Bur right now, his cock was aching to be buried in your heat. If he waited any longer he was afraid he’d burst. He lined his cock up to your entrance, watching intently as he slowly pushed in “but we will have a discussion about that, later.” he groaned as he bottomed out.

“What?” You had no idea what he was even going on about. His cock was stretching you out “It’s too big,” you cried. You felt as if you were being split in half.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can handle it. I’ll be gentle.” He was aware that he was much bigger than average. So he stayed inside you for a few moments, letting you get accustomed to his length. He slipped a hand between your joined bodies, spreading your lips open with his fingers.

“Don’t - don’t do that.” Him looking at your pussy like that, when you were so vulnerable before him made you flustered.

“Look,” he told you and you only shook your head. He sternly said your name and ordered you to look again.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, gulping as you sneaked a peek, whimpering at the sight of his girth buried inside you.

“You have such a pretty pussy you know that?” He gushed before making a ‘tch' sound and stilling your hips, stopping your pathetic attempts at wiggling them. “Wait a minute, will you?” he wasn’t done admiring you and savoring you.

“Please,” you begged as tears fell down your cheeks.

He grumbled something under his breath before pulling out of you, his tip still buried in your heat, he pushed back in forcefully.

You threw your head back, clutching your pillow tightly as his hips rutted into you. His pelvis rubbing your swollen clit every time he bottomed out.

“Can I - can I come?” you remembered to ask him even though you were too delirious to even comprehend what you we’re sayings. Everything around you slipped into an abyss. His groans echoing in the room, his bruising grip on your hip, and his cock driving into you again and again, touching all your sweet spots.

You weren’t sure you could stop yourself even if he said no. But you knew he’d never be that mean. You vaguely heard him say ‘yes' before you let go. Clenching around his length as you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming anymore.

His hips stuttered, pulling his length out of you, he stroked himself above you. Your fucked out state only fuelling his aggressive jerks as spurts of his seed landed on your stomach and your titts.

He held onto your knee, swirling his cum that painted your skin so beautiful with his fingers, “Looks pretty on you,” He smeared some on your nipple before pulling it between his fingers.

“Ouch,” you grimaced as he released it. “Too sensitive right now.” you closed your eyes, already feeling drowsy.

He hummed “I’ll let you sleep for a few hours.” He used his discarded shirt to clean his cum off of you before throwing it away and pulling you in his arms. He nuzzled his nose in your hair, feeling satiated with your soft warm body against him.

“You have god tier stamina, man.” You murmured “Andy, you couldn’t even last a day. What happened to being patient? What will people say?” you giggled, burying your head in his chest.

“That’s Professor Barber to you.” he smiled, kissing your temple. Even tired, you were still a spitfire. He’d deal with all that the next day. “It was worth it.”

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

#andy barber x reader #chris evans x reader #andy x reader #andy barber x you #professor!andy barber

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omgsomeonesomewhereonearth · 4 years ago

Text

your eyes look like coming home

The five times Patton asks Janus to marry him.

Moceit, childhood best friends to lovers💙💛

Content Warnings: alcohol, light angst

Aaa this is my first fic in a million years or something. It’s kind of short and maybe not my best work, but I’m honestly just happy to have written something lol - hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

The first time Patton asks Janus to marry him, it’s a dare.

“Hi! Do you wanna be married?”

Janus stares blankly at the nervous-looking kid in front of him, fiddling with the sleeves of his grubby school cardigan as he stared back at Janus, through large, almost owlish glasses.

He’s confused for a second, then he looks over the kid’s shoulder, and sees the familiarly smug faces in the background, smirking and whispering like they’ve just seen something very funny.

He looks back at the kid – he’s new, just joined last week. Named Patrick or something. He didn’t seem like he’d be involved with the mean kids, with his big, nervous brown eyes and fidgety behaviour. His soft, round face holds a nervous grin as he looks earnestly back at Janus, who’s now glaring exclusively back at the ones watching them

“Why?” he finds himself saying, instead of no.

The boy – Peter? – flushes a little, looking at his feet.

“Um – well -I it’s er, it’s the game.” He gives the explanation like he’s asking a question, prodding the playground floor with his scuffed trainers. “We’re playing, they said – er, I need to find someone to say yes and marry me – but it’s just pretend though – and um, so…”

Ah, so they were both being made fun of.

“They don’t want to play with me.”

The boy’s face falls instantly. “Why not?” he asks, tilting his head to one side. Janus glances at the group, still smirking superiorly at him and – Paul?

“Because.” He snaps, not entirely unkindly, “Go find someone else to ask, or they won’t want to play with you either.”

The boy looks crestfallen for a second, but a look of determination overtakes his face, small mouth forming into a thin, angry line.

“Then I don’t want to play with them.” He declares with a toss of his curly head, sitting himself down next to Janus on the playground floor.

The flock immediately stops smirking, muttering furiously to one another.

“That’s not a good idea…”

“Don’t care.” The boy thrusts a small, chubby hand out at him. “I’m Patton.”

---

The second time, it’s a joke, but also a promise.

They’re sitting on opposite ends of Patton’s cramped twin bed, doing everything but the homework they wanted to meet up to solve, and Janus is pretending he’s not all too aware of their feet just barely touching each other.

“Hey, do you remember that time I asked if you would marry me?” Patton giggles, a sudden mischievous look taking over his face, dimples popping in and out as he looks back at Janus.

“Oh, you mean the first thing you ever said to me?” Janus replies airily, swelling with pride as Patton laughs even harder, scrunching his nose up in delight.

“You know, you never gave me an answer.”

Janus’s heart skips a beat. No it doesn’t, shut up .

His laugh is carefully nonchalant as he replies, “What do you mean?”

“Well, you never said! Would you marry me or not?” Patton laughs, “You’ve kinda left me hanging for years, if you think about it.”

He’s joking. This is a bit, Janus knows that. it doesn’t stop his traitorous heart from beating just that much faster as he smirks back.

“Sure, why not?”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Certainly, in like fifty years when we’re both old and lonely and we’re the only ones who can stand each other.”

He doesn’t believe it, obviously. He knows that he and Patton will always be together, but he doesn’t believe for a second that Patton won’t find someone, with his unbearable kind heart and his wide, honest eyes, and whoever it was would be damn lucky.

Patton laughs in delight at his response. “Ha! Sounds like a plan! Ooh – hold on!”

And then he’s jumping off the bed, going to rummage in his desk drawers.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Celebrating our engagement properly! Be patient!”

And then he’s kneeling next to the bed, smiling cheekily up at Janus, a length of pale blue ribbon in his hand.

“What is that?”

“Shut up, I don’t have a ring.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Hand!”

So, Patton ties the ribbon in a neat bow on Janus’ ring finger and kisses it quick before leaning back to gaze at him in satisfaction.

“There. Now you’re stuck with me no matter what.”

Janus doesn’t tell him that was going to happen regardless.

---

Neither of them likes to talk about the third time.

Janus shoves his way past the teeming crowd of drunk dancers, craning his neck to spot a crop of dark curls or a pastel jumper. Goddamnit .

He wasn’t supposed to leave Patton’s side, he had suggested coming out here tonight as a way of cheering Patton up, and it had been working, until he had walked in, complete with brand new attractive arm candy, and…

Fuck.

He finally finds him out in the empty garden, clutching a beer can that looks to be mostly empty, staring blankly at the sky. He’s not actively crying, but as Janus walks over, he can make out the tear tracks on his face even in the dark.

So he’s definitely seen them.

“Patton?”

“Hey, Janus.” His voice is subdued, and there’s a slight slur to the words.

“I’m so sorry, Pat,” He starts, “If I’d known he’d be here...”

“It’s ‘kay Jan, ‘m fine,” Patton reassures in a way that is not reassuring at all. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes and it’s painfully brittle, like it might shatter into a thousand pieces any minute. Recently, Janus has seen that smile a few too many times for his liking.

“Patton, no.” he replies firmly, but gently, “You’re drunk and heartbroken, and I’m at least partially responsible for that. I’m going to take you home.”

But drunk Patton is somehow even more stubborn than sober Patton can be at times, and he shakes his head resolutely.

“Janus, no.” he pouts, “ ‘m not that drunk, an’ ‘m not…not sad, an’ I don’t wanna go home.” He nods clumsily, having made his point, and then proceeds to stare blankly at the sky again.

Janus sighs.

“Well, then I’m drunk. And sad. And I need someone to take me home.”

Ever more attentive to other’s needs than his own, that gets Patton’s attention, the beautiful idiot that he is. Slowly, he nods and clambers to his feet, gripping Janus’ hand.

Neither of them drives, and Patton’s place is closer, so Janus walks them there, Patton clinging firmly to his side every step of the way. Janus can’t tell if it’s for balance or comfort.

When he gets them both inside the flat, Patton’s first words are, “Don’t leave.”

He gazes up at Janus with red-rimmed eyes, “I don’t like bein’ here alone.”

Janus’s heart aches at that, and he nods. He’d always found it hard to say know to Patton, especially when he’s like this, and especially when he asks for so little as it is.

Similarly, he can’t bring himself to refuse Patton’s beseeching gaze when he tucks him in and moves to sleep on the couch. So, a few moments later finds them in bed together, Janus staring at the ceiling and wondering how Patton can’t hear his heartbeat. They’ve shared a bed before, of course. But not in a long time. Certainly not since Patton started seeing him .

“I saw them, you know.”

He does know. “Really?”

“Mm. D’you think he loves him?”

Janus sighs, “I don’t know, Patton.”

“D’you think he loved me?” Patton’s voice is so soft, so resigned, so plaintive that Janus damn near breaks.

“You know I can’t answer that, Patton.”

“Sometimes I think he didn’t.” Patton admits matter-of-factly, “I tried so, so, hard, but he just didn’t. Ever. I wonder if anyone ever really will.”

There’s a scrap of faded blue ribbon tied on the end of Janus’ keyring that answers that question, but Janus doesn’t bring it up. He doesn’t have to.

“You know I know you’re not really drunk. Or sad.” Patton turns to look at him, his eyes gentle and frank.

“Yeah?”

“You’re jus’ lookin’ out for me. Like you always do. D’you remember that time I said we should get married when we’re all old an’ stuff?”

He doesn’t trust himself to speak. “Hmm.”

Patton smiles wanly. “I wish we could jus’ do that now. We’d jus’ have each other an’ it wouldn’ matter if no one loves me ‘cause I’ve got you.”

Their faces are inches apart and Janus has never wanted anything more than he wants to kiss Patton right now, to kiss his tears away and tell him he’d never be alone, because Janus wouldn’t let him – but he can’t. For a variety of reasons.

“Go to sleep, Patton.”

---

The fourth time, it comes out of nowhere.

It’s two – three? Some godforsaken hour of the morning and Janus has work tomorrow.

And for some reason, his delightful boyfriend has decided that it is a perfect time to be awake and shuffling around to sit up in bed, and turn his bedside lamp on.

“Janus?” he whispers his name like he thinks it might break in his mouth, and God, Janus loves him, but he needs him to shut up and go to sleep right the hell now. He doesn’t move or open his eyes, lying with his face half buried in his pillow despite feeling Patton’s gaze on his back.

“Janus, sweetie?” he whispers again, “Are you awake?”

“… No. ”

“I’m sleeping. Can’t hear you. Zzzzz…”

Patton huffs out a soft laugh. “I think we should get married.”

Janus stiffens. What? They’d barely been dating two months, they hadn’t even talked about marriage – at least, since they’d been dating. He had no idea it was on Patton’s mind, how long had he…

And more importantly, why was he bringing it up now?

Apparently taking his stunned silence to be outright rejection, Patton tries to backtrack quickly.

“I know, I know, it’s not been very long and I totally understand if you don’t want to because it’s too soon.” Janus feels a gentle hand rest itself on the blanket right above his shoulder, “I wasn’t really thinking of it either, but I couldn’t sleep just now and I couldn’t stop thinking, you know, about us, and you remember when we were kids, and all that stuff we always joked about, and how even though we’ve not been dating that long we’ve been together basically forever.”

He trails off, giggling self-consciously.

“And then you did something really cute in your sleep, you like, cuddled up to me and it hit me now I don’t think I ever want this to end.”

Janus finally sits up and faces the love of his life, who is looking back at him with a gaze that can only be described as besotted.

“I really love you, Janus. I want to be married to you.”

With a small, knowing smile, Janus leans forward and cups Patton’s face in his hands.

“Patton. Angel. Darling. Light of my life. I love you too.”

“I…”

“…And that is why I categorically refuse to let you propose to me while you’re wearing your Winnie the Pooh pyjamas. Please let me sleep now, and I promise I will say yes no matter how you ask me next.” And with that, Janus places a kiss on the end of his boyfriend’s nose, turns around, and falls asleep.

---

The fifth time is more or less perfect.

Well, he says more or less. Patton is perfect, in a neatly pressed pastel button-down, his curls bouncing in the gentle spring breeze despite all his valiant efforts to tame it.

Janus has made an effort to look his best as well, having had a feeling something special was coming. He hadn’t mentioned it of course, but with the way Patton had been jumping up and down in his seat as he drove them here, the way he had insisted on planning every aspect of this date himself – well.

Suffice to say his future husband had never been the best at keeping secrets.

The location Patton’s picked had certainly been perfect, atop a lush green hill with the kind of majestic cherry blossom tree you only see in romantic movies, pink blossoms practically dripping off its branches as they swayed in the wind, and beautiful rolling hills all around.

What isn’t perfect is when the two of them finally get comfortable on the hilltop, and Janus leaning against the wide tree trunk while Patton gets to unpacking the picnic he’s put together so meticulously, and it starts raining, almost instantaneously.

“I checked the forecast like three times, it was supposed to be clear skies!” Patton whines back in the car once they’ve finished packing up their things and run to safety, watching the light drips of rain get slowly heavier.

“I’m sorry dearest, I suppose the universe just doesn’t want this date to be.” Janus chuckles wryly, as he hands Patton’s dried glasses back to him.

“Eff the universe,” Patton grumbles, glaring adorably at the raindrop speckled windshield.

So, they play old love songs on the car music player and drink champagne and tuck into entirely too cute bite-sized picnic foods and talk and laugh and playfully flirt and point out constellations formed by the raindrops on the glass, and eventually, Patton stops pouting.

The conversation has slowly wound down and they’re quietly enjoying each other's company when he turns to Janus, taking a deep breath.

“God knows I’ve never been able to keep anything from you.”

“Why, whatever could you be talking about, my dearest?”

“…So, this probably isn’t a surprise to you in the least.”

Patton reaches into the picnic basket and pulls out a small box. It’s a pale yellow, tied in in blue ribbon.

“You’re my best friend, Janus,” his hands are steady, but his voice is already wavering, “You’ve always been here, my whole life, whether I need someone to help, or to talk to, or even just to cry at. I’ve loved you in so many different ways.”

Janus feels tears pricking at his eyes and blinks them away quickly; he refuses to miss a second of this, he wants the image of Patton’s earnest, loving face to be clear as day in his mind when he looks back on this whenever.

“..And I don’t ever want us to stop loving each other, so, hopefully for the last time ever, will you marry me?”

He laughs breathlessly and takes the box, delicately undoing the ribbon. It’s a cupcake.

A tiny, perfect cupcake with frilly blue icing, a golden ring in the shape of the tiniest coiled snake in the world, embedded in the icing.

“Do you like it?” Patton asks hopefully.

Janus surges forward to kiss his fiancé for the very first time.

Taglist: @ent-is-undecisive @disney-princess-patton

#moceit #patton sanders #janus sanders #ts patton #ts janus #sanders sides #ts fic #sanders sides fanfiction #patceit #patton x deceit #best friends to lovers #tw alcohol #tw drinking #my writing

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bidoldaccount · 4 years ago

Text

Luke Patterson // Miscommunication

"Where are you going?" You ask as you watch Alex fix his hair.

"Me, Julie, Reggie, and Layla are going to the movies," he said distractedly.

"Oh, that sounds fun. Can I come?" You asked with a small, hopeful smile. He had asked you to come over and help him with his math homework but an hour in, halfway through the worksheet he had gotten a text and dropped his pencil.

"Oh, Layla already bought our tickets," he said, sliding his hands through his hair once more.

"I can buy my own ticket," you laugh breathily.

"Well we're going to get dinner after and Layla made the reservations," he said, not looking up from the laces of his shoes.

"Okay, do you want to hang out later?" You asked.

"Maybe tomorrow. I'll text you, okay?" He ruffled your hair before he was leaving the room, leaving you alone in his space. You felt almost like a little sibling, too young to hang out with the older kids. You swallowed it down, assuring yourself that you were just reading too much into previously made plans. You shake it off as you pack up your stuff.

To Julie: you wanna hang out?

From Julie: I kinda already have plans :/

To Julie: okay, maybe another time? :)

Read

To Reggie: you busy?

From Reggie: yeah, got plans.

To Reggie: oh okay :)

Read

To Alex: you wanna do something?

From Alex: sorry babes, plans.

To Alex: wyd?

Read

You throw your phone down and link your fingers on your stomach, staring up at the ceiling as you process. All of your friends are together right now and none of them invited you.

Except Luke.

"Babe?" You whispered to yourself. Reggie never called you babe. He called you 'sport' and 'kid' to be a dick because you're the youngest. You shake your head, trying to force the entire text conversation out of your head as you grab your book from your locker.

"Yo," you flinch when someone appears beside you, and your cheeks flare up when Luke comes into your vision. The butterflies in your stomach are very quickly squashed when you remember Reggie's words. "You wanna hang out later?" Luke asked, poking your cheek.

"Um, I can't, my mom needs me to pick up my brother from school," you said, staring into your locker to avoid his eyes.

"I can drive you there," he offered, ducking his head to try and catch your eyes.

"I um, I have a lot on my mind so I'm just going to walk, but thanks Luke," you give him a halfhearted smile, slam your locker shut, and turn to walk away. Luke calls your name but he doesn't try and chase after you.

"Where have you been, I feel like I haven't seen you in years," Alex said as he climbed onto your bed and draped his entire body over your back. You grunted, hiding your face under the covers as he took it upon himself to cuddle you.

"I saw you at school today," you muttered into your blankets.

"No, I saw you, I said hi, and you ran away," Alex corrected.

"I didn't run away," you mumbled. Alex tugged the blankets down to reveal your face and he smiled softly at you.

"Whats going on?" He whispered. You sighed, rolling over until you were on your back and he was beside you. He brushed your hair away from your forehead and waited patiently as you worked up the courage to say what you were thinking.

"I feel silly," you covered your face with your hands as you groaned.

"For what?" Alex pushed.

"Cause I feel left out," you whispered.

"What? All you have to do is text me and I'd be here within the minute. You're like my favorite person ever, Y/n," Alex chuckled.

"Alex," you uncover your face to look at him. "I've texted you every day this week and you keep telling me you're busy," you said.

"What?" Alex furrowed his eyebrows. "No, I've been texting you nonstop, you haven't answered." Alex struggled to lift his hips and pull out his phone, then he showed you messages of your name and a long two of texts from him. You click on the contact with your name and your forehead creased.

"Alex, this isn't even my number!" You said.

"What?" He took his phone back. You pulled your phone out and showed him your message thread, with all of your messages. Alex grabbed your phone and tried to call his phone.

His phone didn't ring.

"Okay, this is weird," Alex mumbled.

"Wait," you looked down at your phone, eyebrows furrowed. "Look at these texts from Reggie. I thought it was really weird that he called me 'babe' because he's never done that," you showed Alex the thread and he furrowed his eyebrows. Alex looked up at you with a slack face of realization.

"Layla calls everyone 'babe'," he said.

"Layla? Why would she text me as Reggie?" You asked.

"She likes Luke!" Alex exclaimed, making you flinch. "She likes Luke, you like Luke, and Luke obviously likes you, it makes so much sense," he smacked his forehead.

"Luke doesn't even like me though," you deflected.

"Now's not the time for denial, we have a bitch to bust," he jumped up from your bed and dragged you out of it.

"Don't say anything like that ever again," you laughed as he tried to pull you out of your room. "Alex! Wait, i need clothes!"

"Y/n!" Julie cheered as Alex tugged you into Layla living room.

"Hey guys," you wave a bit shyly, which is off character at this point.

"Please tell me you're staying," Reggie pouted.

"Actually, we're here for a bit of an interrogation," Alex said, crossing his arms as he looked over at Layla. She raised her eyebrows with a look of innocence.

"Raise your hand if you've texted Y/n at all this week," Alex said. Only Luke raised his hand.

"I've tried, but she hasn't answered," Julie said.

"Yeah, same here," Reggie nodded.

"Yeah, I thought it was weird that she hasn't been around so I went over to her house. We made some pretty shocking discoveries too," Alex took your phone from your hand and opened up the messages that Reggie had supposedly sent you. "Do you remember sending these messages, Reggie?" Alex asked, handing him the phone. Reggie read them over and his face twisted up.

"What the hell? No, I didn't send any of these," he said.

"Let me see," Luke reached for the phone.

"No, Luke, wait," you tried to grab it but it was already in his hand and he was already reading them. You muttered a curse as you tried to hide behind your hand, stepping a bit behind Alex.

"Oh," he whispered. "I never said that!" He assured, pointing to the phone.

"I don't think any of us have been talking for ourself. Layla, anything to say?" Alex turned to her with an icy expression.

"Why would I have anything to do with this?" She said, raising her hands and softening her eyes.

"Because you've been trying to throw yourself at Luke since we met you and you knew they liked each other," Julie said, standing up and walking to your side, crossing her arms as Alex was.

"I wouldn't do anything this manipulative or sneaky, that's not who I am! I genuinely like you guys, I wouldn't do anything to betray your trust! Why-" she was cut off as her phone started to ring. Alex smirked, turning Y/n's towards her, Reggies name flashing on the contact.

"You changed our numbers so our messages would go to your phone and had Y/n believing that we were icing her out. As far as I'm concerned, you're a jealous, manipulative bitch," Alex smiled like he'd just complimented her shoes.

"Let's go," Julie demanded, ushering everyone out of the house.

"Whatever! You're all lame anyways!" Layla screamed, her face red.

"Everyone to Y/n's house, we have some serious bonding to do," Reggie said, ruffling Y/n's hair. Luke grabbed Y/n's wrist before she could walk to Alex's car, and tugged her back. He cupped her jaw and held her waist and leaned in to press his lips to hers. She melted into it instantly, trusting that her knees wouldn't buckle and if they did, trusting he would catch her.

"Okay, maybe not that much bonding," Reggie laughed.

"Eh, let them have their moment, they've been pining long enough," Julie said, waving them away.

You wrapped your arms around Luke's shoulders and pressed you chest against his, kissing him harder.

Im sorry if you read this without the visuals, I didn’t realize I didn’t upload them :)

#jatp #jatp one shot #jatp imagine #jatp preferences #jatp fluff #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagines #julie and the fat ones #julie molina #luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #alex mercer #reggie peters

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star-going-supernova · 4 years ago

Text

So. Madison Russell. Godzilla vs Kong. Welcome to my ted talk.

From a writing perspective, they totally wasted her character. She, Josh, and Bernie were almost exclusively used just as a method of showing the audience what was happening "behind the scenes" at Apex. Pouring the whiskey on the computer was about the only thing of note they did, and even that didn't do much. Mechagodzilla was only slightly hindered by it, and if they'd just written Kong and Godzilla differently in the fight scene, they could have skipped the whiskey part entirely. They could have done so much with having people "on the inside" but Monarch as a greater organization barely had any presence at all, which negated the need to have people on the inside.

Maddie's steadfast insistence that Godzilla wasn't a bad guy at the beginning had so much potential, but it became the conspiracy thing instead. It felt less like she wanted to prove Godzilla wasn't turning against humans, and more like she and her new conspiracy friend wanted to crack open a shady organization, which was frustrating. If they wanted to depict her as someone who was forced to become competent at a young age, which was part of the serious, intense vibe I got from her, instead of the inexplicable personality shift, they should have showed her doing something to help. Getting in contact with her dad/Monarch, giving them evidence to begin a city wide evacuation outside the Apex Hong Kong HQ, messing something up or making it harder for the Apex people to get Mechagodzilla up and running—just, anything.

The fact is, we had Maddie being very proactive in KotM. Stealing the ORCA was the game changer. Instead of taking that to the next level in GvK and giving her an opportunity to continue that aspect of her character—that is, being someone who refuses to sit by when she can do something to help, even if it’s dangerous—they rendered her obsolete.

The movie wouldn't have significantly changed if you took her character out. If Bernie went by himself and ended up in Hong Kong, nothing would have changed, because Maddie didn't do anything of personal importance. She went from being an active character in KotM to being a passive one here, which are a pet peeve of mine. If you saw my post about what I liked and didn’t like about Godzilla (2014), that might sound very familiar.

It would also have made so much more sense if she developed a love for studying Titans instead of focusing on conspiracy theories. Plot-wise, it would have given her claim to her dad that Godzilla was being provoked more credence, and could’ve opened an interesting dialogue between them to reinforce that she knows what she’s talking about. Monarch was obviously still a big part of their lives, given that Mark had rejoined, so it would’ve been the perfect opportunity for Maddie to pursue a Titan-related future.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I loved Jia, and wouldn’t want to take her out of the movie or even diminish her presence in it. In fact, I think they should have focused on Jia, and only on Jia.

Hear me out: Godzilla vs Kong should’ve been split in two. A Part 1 and Part 2 situation.

For Part 1, we keep a lot of the GvK canon, especially the Kong-centric stuff. Include even more scenes showing us that he’s protective of Jia, don’t just have Dr. Andrews say that he is. Have him defend her from something dangerous, maybe even from some humans. Include their backstory, how he saved her during the storm. And start it even earlier, before Godzilla attacks Apex the first time. Keep the whole Hollow Earth plot, keep the fight scene in the ocean, keep the discovery of the temple and the axe.

And on the Godzilla side of things, start earlier on that as well. Keep the other Titans in, have humanity tentatively believing that a time of great peace is upon them. Their mere presence is restoring the planet. There was an emphasis of nature, particularly in relation to the Titans, in KotM that I really think they should have included more of in GvK to better tie the two movies together, if only they hadn’t swept all the other Titans under the rug. They wanted a movie about a fight, not about the Titans. So, undo that. Show us a little of what Mark does, do a sweep of the other KotM cast (cameos at the very least) to show how they and Monarch are working to uphold that peace post-Boston. I’d also have loved to see Boston itself, too, five years later.

Instead of giving us a Generic High School scene, show Maddie learning about the Titans alongside the experts. Bring back the wonder and amazement she had when she saw Mothra for the first time, when she reached out and touched her. She’s second generation Monarch, make that mean something. When Maddie took the ORCA to Boston, she had a conviction. She couldn’t not have. She was there in part to lure Ghidorah in, but I can’t even pretend to believe her plan ended with that. She knew Godzilla would come.

That sort of belief is hard to kill, and if death via Ghidorah wasn’t enough to scare her off, no way anything else in those five years afterwards did. Her belief that Godzilla is good survived to GvK, and should’ve been a main focal point of her character. Godzilla attacks Apex—she and every other Monarch person who has spent years studying the Titans knows something is up.

Keep Mark’s character development regarding his opinions on Godzilla. He believes Maddie when she says something has to be wrong, not just because he trusts his daughter, but because he looked into Godzilla’s eyes and saw more than just an animal.

They’re in Part 1 only minimally, just to establish their presence and how they feel about Godzilla destroying Apex. The focus is clearly on Jia and Kong’s side of events.

Sorry, but I’m leaving Josh out and seriously dialing back Bernie’s role. Instead, the character we follow inside Apex is Ren Serizawa. We see his motivations, his ambitions, and he becomes a character with more than just a few lines. Does he resent Godzilla? Or does he resent his father, too? Serizawa’s sacrifice was willing, after all. He was no accidental casualty.

Part 1 ends in the Hollow Earth, with Ghidorah taking control of Mechagodzilla on the surface. Alter the timeline just enough so that Godzilla has only just arrived to Hong Kong, and Kong’s still in the Hollow Earth. The final scene is Mechagodzilla emerging into the city as the sun rises. The post-credits scene is our KotM cast in the Argo, location unknown, watching a screen with Mechagodzilla on it.

Part 2 begins with a reveal: Ren Serizawa isn’t dead.

Backtrack. This part focuses more on the Godzilla side, and Monarch. It’ll have flashback scenes from the five years between KotM and now, showing exactly why Monarch as a whole firmly believes Godzilla is reacting to something instead of being anti-human all of a sudden. The Titans are not inherently malicious; destruction is a side effect of their size, no more, no less. He earned his title of King in KotM—make it mean more than just trying to make Kong “bow.” Make him a protector, a guardian. He’s nature’s balance. By definition, he must protect humans as well.

What Monarch needs to figure out is this: what is he trying to protect them from?

They investigate Apex in search of the answer, but knowing from past experience the sort of things Godzilla gets proactive about—the MUTOs, Ghidorah—Monarch mobilizes. They prepare for another fight, at Mark’s instructions. He witnessed both San Francisco and Boston firsthand, even if the former was from a civilian standpoint.

Godzilla has more hunt scenes. He targets a second Apex lab after his ocean fight with Kong, telling Monarch that they’re on the right track.

Maddie, being a minor and not dragged into the thick of things (yet), has to stay home. Remembering the podcast she sometimes listened to, when the topic was focused on the Titans, she tracks Bernie down, and he tells her about what he saw: the eye.

The two of them go to the ruined Apex building and discover the eye is gone before getting caught. With Monarch currently breathing down their necks, they recognize Maddie to be Mark’s daughter and take her to Hong Kong. Sorry, Bernie, but that’s mostly as far as you’re involved. Timeline-wise, this is roughly when Kong puts the axe in the temple floor and Godzilla blasts a hole to the center of the earth. Monarch is following Godzilla, but they’re behind a bit thanks to the tunnel shortcuts. They’re still unaware that Maddie has been kidnapped and is en route to Hong Kong.

This is also when Mechagodzilla gains a life of its own. Walter Simmons is killed and Ren Serizawa becomes trapped in the link to Mechagodzilla, serving as the bridge between the robot and Ghidorah’s mind. Ghidorah is essentially controlling MG by controlling Ren, who is controlling MG. Make sense? He’s the puppeteer’s puppeteer.

We reverse some things. Godzilla fights MG first, gets beat around but not as much as in GvK because he isn’t fresh out of a different fight. Kong returns to the surface through the tunnel Godzilla created, having carried the one remaining HEAV out himself, because Nathan Lind has never flown one before and doesn’t know how they work. Kong wants to protect Jia, and Ilene Andrews and Nathan Lind are very lucky that Jia likes them.

Mechagodzilla sees Kong and takes off, and Kong decides now would be a great time to fight Godzilla, who’s having a pretty bad day. Monarch arrives, and half of them split off to follow MG while the rest stay to try and deescalate the situation. Other than Godzilla faring slightly less well, the fight goes mostly the same as in the movie, except for one big difference: one of the Monarch crafts pick up Jia and Co, and she’s able to get Kong’s attention from the back of an Osprey well enough to tell him to stop fighting. There’s a bigger threat out there, and Godzilla definitely needs to be okay enough to fight it. Either they work together, or they reschedule.

She’s very stern about it, and though no one’s really sure what the two Titans decide on, they stop fighting. They leave together to go after Mechagodzilla, who is currently being slowed down by Mothra, because she deserves to be in this movie. The other Titans basically hinder Mechagodzilla as much as possible as it rampages, telling Godzilla where it is. Monarch finally figures out that it’s heading for the nearest entrance to the Hollow Earth, right around when they also figure out that Ghidorah is involved. With Dr. Andrews and Nathan Lind’s input, they theorize it intends to take more of the power source down there to further strengthen it.

They do their best to clear the cities in its path, evacuating as many people as possible. It’s all they can do. As in the past, they must trust Godzilla to do the heavy lifting. Around the same time, an assistant tells Mark that some guy named Bernie called and is asking for him. This is how he finds out Maddie was taken to Apex’s Hong Kong location.

Meanwhile, the Apex guards and Maddie finally arrive to find the facility abandoned and damaged, MG gone, and Simmons dead. The guards more or less split, leaving her there alone. Maddie, being Maddie, goes deeper until she finally discovers Ghidorah’s skull and Ren Serizawa inside, trapped in his own head with Ghidorah. It’s killing him.

He’s aware enough to have a conversation with her. They argue about the Titans. He wants Godzilla destroyed out of anger over his father’s preference for Titans, rather than his own son.

(“You’re not the only one with ghosts!” she yells at him. “You’re not the only one who resents a parent for putting Titans ahead of you when you needed them!” He chokes out, “I do not resent my father—” “Coulda fooled me. Why else would you be spitting on his sacrifice like this? Who are you trying to help, huh? All the other kids out there who are losing their moms and dads because you let Ghidorah out? Sorry, mister, but the last time someone did that, your dad paid the price.”)

Ren is getting worse. He’s going to die if he stays in the link much longer, but he can’t disconnect. Maddie, looking around, gets to work on something. The camera slowly pans around to show that there’s a second pilot seat, back-to-back with Ren’s. It would allow for seamless switching between pilots without MG ever not having someone at the controls.

Even with the other Titans’ help, Godzilla and Kong are unable to stop MG from going through the tunnel and into the Hollow Earth. Monarch is unable to follow, because of the gravity issue. They’re both tired from the journey and their fight, especially Godzilla. This is their last chance. If Mechagodzilla reaches the power source, it’s all over.

The fight doesn’t go in their favor. They’re both bad at working together, so their attacks are uncoordinated at best, actively hindering each other at worst. Kong gets flung off a mountain and MG pins Godzilla. Even thought he caught himself, Kong isn’t going to make it up in time to help him.

Maddie puts on an identical pilot setup, and with Ren’s instructions, switches the link over to herself, freeing Ren. He collapses forward, immediately falling unconscious from the release of the strain. Fighting past the pain and overwhelming presence suddenly in her head, Maddie does what she does best: she causes Ghidorah problems.

She screams, and it echoes like a roar through his skull.

In the Hollow Earth, Mechagodzilla stumbles.

It’s the beginning of the end. She can’t control it or even really stop Ghidorah, but she gets in his way as much as possible, giving Godzilla and Kong the edge they need to finally get their act together and use some teamwork to take Mechagodzilla down. They destroy it and return to the surface before parting on amicable terms.

After too long, Mark arrives at Apex with a whole team of people. Ren Serizawa is found comatose but alive, and he’s quickly removed for medical attention. Though Maddie’s also alive, there’s something else clearly wrong. She’s still wired into the piloting gear, stiff and unseeing, as if she’s frozen. Her eyes are open but distant, pupils virtually gone from how constricted they are, and her jaw hangs open slightly. Despite how tense her body is, she’s limp. Nothing they do wakes her up, even after getting her out of the skull.

They wheel her out on a gurney to where a handful of Ospreys landed, but as they leave the building and step out onto the roof, they find Godzilla has returned. He watches them, and he’s exactly as aware as Mark remembers.

(“She tried to help you,” Mark calls out to him. No one knows exactly what happened in the Hollow Earth, during the fight, but the scene in Ghidorah’s skull was telling. “No, she—she did help you!” For the second time in her life, Maddie put herself in Ghidorah’s path and, ultimately, won. Only this time, her victory came with a price.)

Godzilla snorts before leaning over the roof’s railing, moving toward the gurney. The humans all back away, even Mark, though he doesn’t go far. Spines humming, eyes flaring blue, Godzilla rumbles deeply.

On the gurney, Maddie stirs.

Later, much later, after Maddie and Jia have met—heaven help everyone else, honestly—they sit together on the edge of a pier over the ocean, Jia leaning comfortably against Maddie. It’s quiet. They’re alone, watching the sunset. A heavy footfall behind them, the feel of the vibration trembling through the wood, makes them turn around. Half concealed in the brush at the edge of the island’s foliage, Kong stands, facing them.

They both wave before standing. They sign goodbye to each other, then part ways. As Maddie walks away to a waiting Osprey, we see behind her as Kong crouches to allow Jia to climb into his palm before vanishing into the forest.

The Osprey takes off over the calm ocean. It has a different design than most, with a large door set in the side instead of at the back, more like an ordinary helicopter. It’s open as they go, Maddie secure inside as she stares out. A smile spreads across her face as jagged spines slowly breach the ocean’s surface, easily keeping pace with the Osprey, which lowers to be closer to the water.

For just a moment, in the fading light, Maddie’s eyes almost shine blue. The screen goes black to the sound of Godzilla’s roar.

#GvK Spoilers #whoops this got long #long post #Star's Stories #kinda #Star's Thoughts about Stuff #life and times of star

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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years ago

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Nicknames

ShinoMitsu Week 2021 Day Five: (Long Distance, Nicknames, Kimetsu Gakuen)

A/N: I kind of got a little carried away with giving Mitsuri’s siblings names and some screen time but I don't think it made this too much longer. Two more days left! Thanks for reading! Word Count: 3,074

“Hi, cutie pie!” Mitsuri said just before she clamped onto Shinobu’s back after classes let out. “Did you have a good day?”

“That one’s a miss.” Shinobu had answered. “But yes, my day was fine.”

“Aw, but you are a cutie pie!” Mitsuri grumbled.

“No.” Shinobu denied.

For some reason, seemingly overnight, Mitsuri became obsessed with finding Shinobu a nickname, but Shinobu had thus far rebuffed all of her attempts. A few names in the long list Mitsuri had tried were babe, baby, sweet pea, honey bunny, peanut, snuggle bug, muffin, cupcake, donut, marshmallow... a lot of them she had come up with while she was hungry. Every single one had been rejected with a laugh or a cringe, or a deadpan expression by Shinobu, but Mitsuri was not ready to give up anytime soon!

“Okay then speedy, I’ll walk you to the locker room.” Mitsuri tried again.

“My dad calls me speedy.” Shinobu revealed, “He’s been calling me that ever since I could walk.”

“What, so I can’t call you that?”

“No, you can’t.”

“Ah! How about my butterfly! That’s perfect!” Mitsuri shouted in excitement.

“Sorry, that’s claimed as well. Mom calls Kanae, Kanao and I her butterflies.”

Mitsuri huffed, disappointed, but she wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot.

“Very well then, milady.” Mitsuri said with a small bow.

Shinobu snorted.

“No, just no.” Shinobu shook her head while Mitsuri puffed out her cheeks.

“It’s harder than it looks!” Mitsuri defended, crossing her arms. “I’d like to see you come up with a nickname for me.”

“I call you Mitsu sometimes, don’t I?” Shinobu asked, retrieving her track bag from her cubby.

“Yes, and I like that, but, it’s very inside the box. Try something different and see how hard it is!”

“Mitsuri, no offense, but I think you’d like anything I came up with. You’re kind of a sap for this stuff.” Shinobu said, distractedly looking into her bag to make sure she had everything as they walked to the locker room.

“I would not! Trust me, not any old throwaway nickname will be enough to sway me.” Mitsuri stated confidently.

“Hmm...” Shinobu tapped her chin, thinking for a moment. Mitsuri was right, not any old nickname would be good. She had to think of something that she would actually like to call her girlfriend. Something that was near synonymous with her. Just before they reached the locker room, a small smile curved at her lips and she stopped in her tracks. Mitsuri watched her expectantly.

“Thank you for walking me to the locker room. I’ll see you on the bleachers, my sunshine.” Shinobu winked, she goddamn winked without looking like a total ass!

Mitsuri’s heart leapt in her chest and her face felt hot. She tried to hold it together, but Shinobu just sounded so genuine and sunshine was actually a really cute nickname and— argh!

“That’s not fair, Shinobu!” Mitsuri whined, covering her face. She swore it was growing even brighter as the Kouhai laughed.

“Keep trying, I’m looking forward to see what you come up with next.” Shinobu said before heading into the locker room.

Mitsuri didn’t waste anytime hurrying to the bleachers so she could figure out a nickname for Shinobu while she practiced. She sat there, tapping her feet against the metal plank below her. Her elbows on her knees and her hands holding up her head as she stayed completely zeroed in on Shinobu. Watching her, she hoped for something to come to her like some divine intervention.

Shinobu had an affinity for purple, maybe plum would be nice? Sugar plum? No, Shinobu never seemed to thrilled with the food related pet names.

Perhaps sleeping beauty? Whenever they slept over, Shinobu always looked so enchanting in her sleep. Maybe a good choice for when she just woke up or was notably tired, but it’s not exactly a catch all name that could make sense at anytime.

Flower, maybe? A certain type... lily seemed too on the nose. Shinobu always smelled like blooming wisteria, but Mitsuri didn’t think that made a good nickname. It was pretty, but it just didn’t sound playful enough.

Mitsuri blinked, breaking from her concentration as she realized that Shinobu had been swarmed with a handful of her teammates and they were all looking right back up at her with big, troublesome grins.

Apparently, Mitsuri was staring so obviously and with such intent, that she had made a bit of a spectacle of herself. She gave an embarrassed smile and waved down at them whilst blush prickled at her skin.

“Kanroji and Kochou sitting in a tree—” Mitsuri heard one of the girls start to sing before Shinobu punched her in the arm. Mitsuri recognized the girl as Makio-chan, a friend from her class.

The other two she recognized simply because they were usually in Shinobu’s relay team. Makomo-san and Ozaki-san smiled good-naturedly as they laughed along. They were also well known from the swim team and tennis club respectively.

Shinobu rolled her eyes, her cheeks lightly flushed. She shooed the other girls back in their positions and leveled a small smile up at Mitsuri before darting off.

Mitsuri relaxed her muscles with a sigh. An afterimage of Shinobu’s dark, purple eyes stuck in her vision. They reminded her of the cool, vastness of space and when the light shined on them just right, Mitsuri swore she could see stars, whole galaxies even. If Mitsuri was Shinobu’s sunshine, then Shinobu was like Mitsuri’s moonlight.

“That’s it!” Mitsuri cheered loudly, her fists rocketed up above her head. She quickly covered her mouth however, once she realized just how loud she had yelled. Everyone in the bleachers around her and in the field below glanced at her curiously before turning back to whatever they were doing before.

“Just you wait, Shinobu.” Mitsuri mumbled much more quietly under her breath, tracing Shinobu’s figure as she leapt over the hurdles, “I’ve got some really good ideas now.”

***

Mitsuri waited for Shinobu to exit the locker room after practice, poised and ready to strike! As soon as the younger girl emerged from the room, Mitsuri pounced. She took Shinobu by the hand and quickly maneuvered out of the building.

“Where’s the fire?” Shinobu teased. “I knew you must have thought up something good judging by how loud you yelled during practice, but I don’t see the need for urgency.”

“You’ll see when the time is right! I want this to be as organic as possible.” Mitsuri said, still pulling Shinobu along even as they left the school gates.

“Whatever you like,” Shinobu smiled, “but whatever you are planning, surely we can walk? I’m kind of exhausted.”

“Oh, right!” Mitsuri remembered, coming to a sudden stop that had Shinobu bump into her back. “Sorry.”

“You’re okay.” Shinobu reassured, re-adjusting her hold on Mitsuri’s hand before they continued to walk at a more sustainable pace.

Before school, they had already agreed that they would go to Mitsuri’s house to watch over her younger siblings while her parents celebrated their anniversary. Almost as soon as they opened the door, Mitsuri’s mother ran up and quickly pushed the fussy one-year-old twins into the girls’ arms, one for each of them.

“Thank you Mitsuri, Shinobu.” The exhausted woman said, already halfway out the door. “We’ll be back before midnight, have fun and be good everyone!” She called over her shoulder before quickly shutting the door behind her. The girls swore they could hear the squeak of car tires as Mitsuri’s mother quickly drove away to pick up her husband as he got off work.

“Wow.” Was all Shinobu could manage as she recovered from the woman’s quick exit.

“I know,” Mitsuri giggled. “It’s one of the few days a year she doesn’t feel guilty getting away from all this chaos,” she lifted her little brother higher so she could blow a raspberry on his tummy, making him laugh. “It helps that you’re here of course, it makes her feel better because you’re so good with everyone.”

“I still don’t know why these kids like me so much,” Shinobu shook her head, taking hold of the hand of the near identical girl in her arms so she wouldn’t pull her hair.

“It’s impossible for a Kanroji to not like you, take my word for it.” Mitsuri said, making her way further into the home.

It was true, for some reason the rest of the Kanroji family fell in love with Shinobu right away and were eager to welcome her into their home. She was thankful of course, but part of her was sure the Kanroji parents were just excited to double the amount of free babysitters at their disposal. Still, they treated her well and she looked forward to visiting the busy home that greatly contrasted her own.

Six siblings, Mitsuri being the eldest at seventeen, almost eighteen now that Shinobu thought about it. Then there was Akimitsu, the oldest boy of the family. He was thirteen and went to the same middle school as Kanao. Shinobu thought the boy couldn’t be more different than his older sister. He was a very no nonsense soul and rather particular.

Natsumi was the middle child. She was eight and every bit as energetic as her sister which could lead to trouble if she was left alone. Mitsuri had told Shinobu one story where Natsumi had been unusually quiet so she and her mom had gone looking for her and found her in the bathroom with the tub overflowing with bubbles that she had dyed blue with some food coloring she had managed to snag from the kitchen.

Last but not least were the twins, Haruka, the girl, and Hayate, the boy, born just last year. When they were first born, Mitsuri had said it was hard to tell them apart at first glance. Now that they were getting older, it was much easier to tell who was who. They were sweet babies, but their moods could easily diminish at the drop of a hat. Fortunately they seemed content enough for the time being.

Shinobu followed Mitsuri, lightly bouncing Haruka in her arms as she walked. They followed the sound of the tv to the main portion of the home and found Natsumi laying flat on her stomach, coloring while watching some anime. Akimitsu was sitting nearby doing his homework.

“Hello Onee-san, Kochou-san.” Akimitsu politely greeted before turning back to his studies.

“Shinobu-chan is here?” Natsumi whipped her head around, jumping to her feet with an excited grin. “Hey, hey! Can we make something explode today?”

Shinobu had helped Natsumi make elephant toothpaste once for a school project and the little girl had been hounding her for more experiments ever since.

“I’m here too, you know.” Mitsuri griped, setting Hayate down in the play pen. Shinobu knelt down to place Haruka beside him.

“I see you everyday, Onee-chan.” Natsumi stated plainly.

Mitsuri crossed her arms and turned away to sulk in the corner. That seemed to do the trick because Natsumi went from hanging off of Shinobu, to comforting her sister, hugging her tightly until Mitsuri smiled and spun her around.

Akimitsu really made the work easy by helping out when he finished his homework. Natsumi was always so invested in what Shinobu was doing that they didn’t have to worry too much about her slinking off to cause mischief.

So while Mitsuri and Shinobu made dinner, Natsumi cheered them on and Akimitsu watched over the twins.

“Pancakes, pancakes!” Natsumi singsonged. “Hey Shinobu-chan, is that what you use to make a volcano explosion?” she asked, pointing at the tablespoon of white powder in Shinobu’s hand.

“Not quite. This is baking powder, baking soda and vinegar are used in most volcano simulations.” Shinobu informed.

“I wish you hadn’t told her that,” Mitsuri sighed. “I’m gonna have to put those in the lock box from now on.”

“Sorry.” Shinobu smiled.

“Come on Onee-chan, can’t we make one little mess please?” Natsumi asked, her bottom lip protruded.

“You’re still on notice after the coke and mentos fiasco.” Mitsuri reminded.

“Boo.” Natsumi jeered, now resting her head on the table.

Shinobu found the way Mitsuri scolded her siblings incredibly cute. Even as silly and childish as the older girl could be, she wasn’t a pushover and was very responsible.

“Onee-san,” Akimitsu emerged in the doorway looking a bit green, “I think the twins need to be changed.”

As helpful as the young boy was, even he had his limits.

“I’ll help you,” Shinobu graciously offered as she finished mixing the ingredients.

“Thank you,” Mitsuri smiled, turning back to her brother, “Okay, just a second,” Mitsuri called back, turning off the preheated griddle since they were walking away.

“Natsumi, why don’t you color in the living room while Shinobu and I clean up the twins, okay?” Mitsuri added as a thought. She couldn’t leave Natsumi in the kitchen unattended.

“Fine, I guess.” The younger Kanroji huffed before following Mitsuri and Shinobu out.

Akimitsu looked queasy as they entered the living room. Mitsuri giggled and ruffled his hair before picking up Hayate. Shinobu hoisted Haruka up and then they went off to the nursery room.

They cleaned the little ones up and changed them. Mitsuri getting done noticeably faster than Shinobu since she had to change more diapers than any normal seventeen year old should.

They weren’t really in much of a rush though and spent a little time in their semi-private room to talk to each other and babble with the twins, stealing a kiss or two before heading back.

“Natsumi!”

Mitsuri and Shinobu heard Akimitsu yell. The kitchen. They looked at each other before quickly putting the twins in the play pen and jogged towards the kitchen, Mitsuri in front of Shinobu.

“What’s going on?” Mitsuri called worriedly just before crossing the threshold.

“Onee-san, look out!” Akimitsu warned just a fraction too late as Mitsuri stepped on something slick and her foot swung out above her as she lost her balance and began falling backwards.

Mitsuri let out a surprised yelp and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, waiting for impact. Fortunately, impact never came. At least, not in the form of the cold hard ground, but rather, lithe yet firm arms.

“That was close, are you okay?” Shinobu asked from above. She had managed to catch Mitsuri just in time, hooking her arms under her girlfriend’s.

“Yeah,” Mitsuri nodded, a bit breathless, “yeah I’m okay.”

“Good,” Shinobu adjusted her hold, “Now, if you could adjust your footing that would be great. I don’t think I can hold this position much longer.” she said, her arms trembling a bit as she tried to hold Mitsuri up.

“Right,” Mitsuri grabbed the nearby counter and steadied herself, finally looking to the ground below caked in pancake batter. “What happened in here?”

“Natsumi.” Akimitsu answered, crossing his arms. “I'll admit I was resting my eyes because the twins left me with a bit of a headache. I didn’t realize she would take that as a cue to ruin dinner.”

“I didn’t mean too.” Natsumi sniffed, “I was trying to help. I wanted to surprise you and Shinobu-chan.”

“Well, surprise us you did.” Mitsuri smiled sympathetically. “Help me clean this mess. We’ll have to think of something else for dinner.”

“Okay.” Natsumi replied despondently.

The peace that was once fell over the Kanroji household was broken. Pancake batter all over the kitchen floor and griddle (that thankfully was still off) and the twins started wailing and were inconsolable. Shinobu and Akimitsu left the kitchen to try to calm them while Natsumi and Mitsuri cleaned everything up.

Mitsuri called for Shinobu to order something for delivery as it became increasingly obvious that the mess was sapping up all her energy and she was too hungry to start a whole new meal.

Thankfully, after an hour of struggle, everything seemed to get better once the food arrived. The babies especially responded favorably in presence of dinner. Though is seemed that more food ended up smeared on their faces than in their mouths.

After dinner, Shinobu washed off the twins while Mitsuri bid her other siblings good night. Then she came back to help Shinobu put the twins in their cribs. They watched the energetic babies wiggle at babble at each other between the bars, laughing at jokes only they could understand.

“Hey, that was a really good catch earlier.” Mitsuri said, placing her hand over Shinobu’s resting over the bar of the crib.

“I couldn’t not try to catch you. I’m just happy it worked out.” Shinobu said in return.

Mitsuri leaned down, resting her forehead on Shinobu’s shoulder, a small grin growing steadily on her face.

“Thank you for saving me from slamming into the slimy, hard floor, my knight.”

Mitsuri felt Shinobu stiffen and frowned slightly. She had high hopes for that nickname when she started taking a different approach. Slowly, she eased herself back to her full height.

“Did you not like that one either...” Mitsuri trailed of a bit before a wide smile overtook her lips.

Shinobu, though rigid, was flushed pink. She busied herself with Hayate, letting him pull her finger around, seemingly unaware of, or unwilling to answer Mitsuri.

“You like that one.” Mitsuri singsonged, wrapping her arms around Shinobu, rocking her from side to side with a satisfied giggle. “My knight in shining moonlight, Kochou Shinobu!”

“Mitsuri, cut it out.” Shinobu mumbled with very little bite. Her skin prickled with embarrassment as she was pushed around by Mitsuri’s movements.

“I thought of starshine too. I thought it would be cute since you called me sunshine.” Mitsuri went on instead. “I was thinking about how your eyes make me of outer space so I had a few more like comet, shooting star, my Venus—“

“Okay, okay,” Shinobu chuckled, “you had your hit, let’s not get too out of hand here.”

“So you really do like it?” Mitsuri asked.

“Maybe.” Shinobu replied stubbornly. She slipped her finger out of Hayate’s hand and retreated out of Mitsuri’s hold and out the door. She stopped just outside of the room to peer back at Mitsuri.

“Movie?” She asked, clearly attempting to change the subject.

Mitsuri playfully rolled her eyes and nodded. Giving the twins one last glance over before following after Shinobu to make some popcorn. Popcorn that she was going to drizzle with maple syrup since she couldn’t have her pancakes.

#shinomitsuweek2021 #shinomitsu #shinobu kochou #shinobu kocho #mitsuri kanroji #demon slayer #kny #au

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demigoddreamer · 4 years ago

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Addressing Batman’s Abuse

Damian: I killed someone

Bruce(and the rest of the batfamily but mostly bruce): It’s ok it’s because of your childhood, you were raised to be an assassin as long as you didn’t murder anyone innocent and do better next time

Dick: I killed someone

Bruce: well i saved them didn’t count bye

Tim: I killed someone

Bruce: Seriously Tim? ok I’m kinda disappointed but i’ll be ok in a little bit(actually idk cause I can’t recall if tim ever killed someone)

Jason: I killed someone

Bruce: HOW DARE YOU BREAK THE NO KILL RULE YOU LITTLE PIECE OF **** WE HAVE MORALS YOU’RE JUST ANOTHER CRIMINAL, A MURDERER, A MONSTER YOU LET THEM WIN IF YOU KILL

Alright enough with the jokes let’s get serious, let’s talk about the abuse. I have a lot to unpack and if you’re like me who doesn’t have the patience to read long things if they don’t matter then i’m sorry . I can read school stuff but fanfiction more than like 30 chapters irritates me which is stupid because I love to read but the human brain is A FUCKING ANNOYING HYPOCRITE. I love the batbros with all my heart and we hate to see bad stuff happen to them. but Bruce...he can get away with hurting the people who he should see as sons and who in turn consider him a father figure. He is essentially taking advantage of their love for his cause. Because the most important thing is batman and the mission which he will hold above his own children, the people in his life who care about him and support him in his insane crusade. Batman is someone who is consumed by this darkness that causes him to sacrifice everything for the mission. It is stated multiple times that his Robins are supposed to be better than him, they’re not needed as assistants in the battlefield but rather emotional support as they bring a little light to Bruce's pain and vengeful darkness. The Robins become better people than Bruce.

There are obvious examples of Bruce’s abuse such as his second Robin now Red Hood Jason Todd. Now I may be biased as he is my favorite but I love all the robins dearly so FREAKING much. Jason is constantly remembered as Batman’s greatest failure. Why is that? we are led to believe it’s because Bruce didn’t save him but really it’s because Jason didn’t fall in line with Batman’s code which is where we see the flaws in Batman’s philosophy. Why doesn’t Batman just kill the Joker? Jason makes some very valid points saying that all Joker does is cause pain and he keeps breaking out of prison and causing more pain and it’s a vicious cycle, a revolving door that Batman refuses to end. Joker and Batman are almost obsessed with each other. But Batman refuses to kill Joker saying if he does he can’t come back and Joker will win. It’s a war between numbers and moral high ground. But in reality who cares if Joker wins? It’s vague what does it even mean? Joker keeps on killing and if he was gone the world would be safer? It doesn’t matter if he wins as long as people live. Jason Todd is someone who is constantly hurt by the people who are supposed to love him. An example of this is Batman choosing to save Joker rather than his own son in the Under the Red Hood storyline. Jason is clearly heartbroken over the fact that Bruce refuses to kill the person who MURDERED HIM saying “I thought I’d be the last person you ever let him hurt” Jason obviously has lots of trauma PTSD depression and he probably just wants to feel safe pleading with Bruce to just kill Joker that’s it saying “doing it because he took me away from you” which Batman refuses just saying I can’t.

Now there’s other instances that make my blood boil such as Batman and Robin #20. Damian died in Batman Inc. and obviously since Bruce can’t ever deal with pain in a healthy constructive way, he goes full dark and rage and sadness. He becomes desperate to bring Damian back, being abusive to Tim even when Batman tried to experiment on Frankenstein to bring Damian back and Tim blew the lab up. But Jason...oh god...Bruce wants Jason on a mission in Ethiopia to bring the people who tried to kill Damian justice . (Talia put a bounty on his head) and then Jason agreed, excited at the chance of working with someone he considers a father again. Jason has ceased his killing he has calmed down from when he tried to hurt them all, his mind was damaged by the lazarus pit and he went insane with pain and rage. From my pseudo psychologist perspective I think he thought hurting them would make his pain cease if he tried to hurt the things that caused his pain it would fix him. Anyway Jason is on kinder terms with them but it’s still rough. They’re not all that kind with him sure he’s made mistakes but they all have and he’s really sorry about it. Anyway after taking those bad guys down they talk about family and trust and faith. Then...Bruce does it and reveals the real reason why they came to Ethiopia. Bruce wanted to bring Jason to the place he DIED. WHERE THERE IS A BUTT TON OF TRAUMA. Jason is just so shocked at first he stands there looking numb. He isn't even angry yet. He stands there feeling the pain of that horrible day saying”You lied to me. this wasn't about taking down those mercenaries. You wanted to bring me here..to the worst place in the world...and here I was starting to believe all your crap about trust and faith” He sounds broken which he is he’s been broken by so many people and now Bruce who isn’t supposed to break him just did by taking advantage of him and bringing him to somewhere of horrible trauma. Bruce reveals that he brought Jason here so he could figure out how to bring Damian back to life explaining “Those killers were the mission but this was something else something I couldn’t ignore I thought bringing you here could jog your memory-maybe retrieve a buried buried deep in your subconscious that could help piece together how you came to life so I” and Jason finishes this saying “-could apply it to getting Damian back. Yeah I get it. Did it ever occur to you I might like keeping whatever the hell happened to me buried deep?”Obviously, Jason doesn’t want to relieve his trauma, he doesn’t want to deal with what happened to him a second time. He just wants to move on but Bruce won’t let him. Bruce doesn’t seem to acknowledge Jason’s trauma nor does he seem to care for his well being. “If you cared about me, you wouldn’t want me to dredge up the one thing I've been trying to forget. I don’t want to remember the most horrific day of my life, all right? You may like wallowing in your tragedies but I’m done looking back” which is true all Batman does is sit in the pain of his parents death and he can’t heal like and he spreads pain to others at this rate the dead parents excuse gets a little old. BUT THEN BRUCE HAS THE AUDACITY TO SAY “If you cared about me and what I’ve lost, you’d want to dredge this up! Don’t you see-there’s a chance you can help me erase one of the worst days of my life. You can give me the greatest gift of all and help me figure out how to bring my son back!” Here he uses a lot of pronouns referring to himself, CARED ABOUT ME, I’VE LOST, HELP ME, MY LIFE, GIVE ME, HELP ME, MY SON. Yes Bruce, make it all about you, cause we definitely want you too. You’re a grown ass man and Jason is the more mature person here, honestly all the Robins learn to process grief and heal and grow and they’re just generally better people. Bruce is basically saying I care more about Damian than I care about you and my needs are greater than yours so screw your feelings, your feelings don’t matter. He really only seems to care about himself and he wants to erase his own pain. He doesn’t even seem to consider what Damian would want and what being brought back to life would do to him. Jason knows what it’s like, the pain of it, he’s probably the only person who would understand why someone wouldn’t want to come back. After All of this Bruce doesn’t even apologize and makes some half assed promise for unconditional truth but Jason still accepts this and helps Bruce get Damian’s body back from Darkseid even though he didn’t have to.

Also there’s battle of the cowl which I desperately try to ignore but what I can tell Bruce *cough* died *cough* at this rate whenever Bruce dies or some crap I’m like ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT??? But sorry back to the topic. Bruce had a message for Jason for everyone else was just like I hope you’re doing well I love y’all live your life for JASON HOWEVER. He was all like you’re a failure not because I didn’t save you but because I don’t like how you turned out. Also you have problems, you’re mentally ill(I know but don’t have to be so awful about it)and there’s a secret I shouldn’t have kept and bye. And he suggests help but WHY DIDN’T HE GET JASON HELP WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER HMMMMM? It’s so obvious Jason’s childhood is full of abuse of course he has bad mental health and all that jazz. Also he puts Jason in Arkham where the Joker is 5 DOORS DOWN. I don’t think I have to say anything but they could literally put him in ANY OTHER PRISON. Why this one idk?

Bruce beat Jason and was probably about to kill Jason in RHATO #25. All beacuse Jason shot penguin and since Red Hood is a criminal blah blah blah Bruce has to do something. Actually he doesn’t as he just assumes Jason killed him which he didn’t also he didn’t seem to consider mind control or clones or whatever and he thought it was a good idea to beat the crap out of his sons. Jason even points this out”You are a character, I’ve never seen you beat Joker that hard and you hate him”...Bruce is beating him harder than the Joker. BRUCE IS BEATING HIS GODDAMN SON, SO HE HATES HIS SON MORE THAN JOKER??? Here we see how Bruce constantly chooses Joker over Jason.

Let's also talk about Dick his first son (I love my circus boi). After Jason died *sob*(i’m gonna cry) Dick is pretty darn sad and Bruce didn’t tell him shit so he’s obv like hey what’s the deal and BRUCE HAS THE AUDACITY TO BE MAD AT DICK. and he tries to kick Dick out of his life and be like leave your key get outta my face and he punched Dick LIKE BOI YOU DIDN’T TELL HIM ABOUT THE FUNERAL OR THE FACE THAT JASON DIED. We already knew it was bad because Bruce and Dick argued like my parents argue which is pretty bad. Lo and behold Bruce doesn’t apologize.

Also Nightwing #30 after Dick was outed as Nightwing and fake died on telelvision. Bruce used like WAAAAAAY excessive force. They were sparring but it got real violent real fast. And Nightwing wasn’t in the right mindset he was traumatized and Bruce totally took advantage of him by asking him to work for Spyral which Dick obv didn’t want to do but Bruce fucking FORCED that crap onto him after something as awful as that and he probably knew Dick would give in eventually that bastard. No, Bruce doesn’t apologize either.

Most recently Batman #71...now see this is Tim’s turn and I love my big brain boi Tim... and when you love a fictional character you know something bad is gonna happen. Bruce’s abuse, it’s kinda worse cause he’s a fucking KID. now Bruce be like let’s meet and shit so most of them are there and some evil villain is doing their thang and Tim is tryin be nice comforting Bruce, telling him that Tim will always be there and that Tim will help AND BRUCE FUCKING PUNCHED HIM. HE WAS JUST TRYIN BE NICE AND HELP YOU FEEL BETTER YOU POS. Now do we see Bruce apologize? NOOOOO. What did you expect? Honestly it’s not that hard it’s a simple sentences even a dumbass like you can manage it

Now I’m not totally familiar with any abuse on Damian but it’s there. Bruce is allergic to emotions, and it’s hard for him to be emotionally supportive and show any affection whatsoever. Showing any semblance of pride to Damian is like me trying to do pushups it’s FUCKING impossible for Bruce to show any compassion toward his son whatsoever (seriously though push ups are a pain in the ass I’m not athletic whatsoever why do you think I waste my time venting on tumblr the only thing I’m good for is being the smart kid in school and even then some people outshine me in that.)...sad but I’m not here to complain about that. Anyway Dick is a BAMF and openly shows Damian hey i’m proud of you and I love you. IT’S NOT THAT HARD BRUCE.

Bruce can’t ever be happy, he doesn’t let himself be happy because he can’t move on from that tragedy that happened to him. And he doesn’t allow anyone around him to be happy either. Shown as when Dick is like hey I can be in love with someone and we can be long term we can be happy together. BRUCE BE LIKE NUH HUH VIGILANTES CAN’T BE HAPPY WE HAVE TO SACRIFICE FOR THE MISSION. Let your son be FUCKING HAPPY. I know I sound like I hate him and maybe I do a bit but I don’t think he’s like completely Joker evil and irredeemable. I just can’t deal with how DC handles abusers like Bruce and having characters enable this behavior. We need to know that Bruce’s behavior is not ok and his children are completely numb to it, it’s normal to them and it’s disgusting. Bruce needs repercussions and he needs to know that he can’t do that to kids who love and trust him.

LINK TO PART 2:

https://demigoddreamer.tumblr.com/post/639314330465222656/addressing-batmans-abuse-part-2

If a loved one is hurting you reach out and seek help. You deserve the world

#batfam #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #red hood #nightwing #red robin #robin #bruce wayne #batman #dc comics #abuse #it's not ok #if you're in this situation reach out #bruce wayne is a bad parent

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