#as someone who only uses their cane on bad days can confirm: it sucks!

[peter-parcoeur]

Good girl gone bad | (frat!tom)

request: How about frat cocky Tom at a Christmas party, wearing something that shows off his muscles, and he keeps flirting with y/n, who hates him. Throughout the night, he slowly wins her over, and once he has her in the palm of his hand, he makes her compliment him and then worship his muscles and then get on her knees and suck on him through his boxer briefs and then finally he f*cks her face and he's dirty talking and boasting all the way through :)

disclaimer: Hiii, so this was a request (sadly anonymous but if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy and this lives up to your expectations...) this is my first attempt at fratboy!tom so I apologize in advance if that’s not exactly what you expected from it or whatever. Also I��m french so, some unfortunate spelling mistakes may occur and for this I apologize too! (damn I do really know how to sell myself, don’t I?) Anyway, enjoy your reading and please give it a ♥ if you liked it and a comment if you either really liked or hated it. Annnnd I’m talking too much.

warnings: smut smut smutty smut is to be expected, obviously. includes: brat!tom, braggy!tom, boasting!tom and some serious potty mouth / enemies to lovers (well, more like enemies to fuckbuddies idk) / oral-sex / face-fuck / dirtyDIRTY talk/ fingering / brief mentions of self luuuuvin (that’s masturbation, for you) / dom!tom + sub!reader / I guess a little bit of humiliation and praise kink idk if that’s triggering so just in case... / roughness... I guess that’s it? probably enough already.

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« Come on, it’ll be fun! God knows you could really use some fun… » your friend’s voice almost begged over the phone as you safely locked it between your cheek and your shoulder to open the door to your dorm room, your keyrings grazing the piece of metal surrounding the lock with a soft, clicking noise.

“Yeah cause hanging out with complete morons as they get shit-faced on cheap vodka is totally my idea of a good night...”

“ Urghhhh, Y/N please, are you really gonna be a Grinch about it?”

“  Well, it’s a Christmas party so I guess that’s convenient?”

You could tell your friend was getting frustrated by now, the slight change of tone in her voice making her sound desperate. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your books above the mess on your desk, you immediately crashed onto your bed with a loud, exhausted groan as this never-ending day had managed to push every single one of your buttons. You felt completely drained and yet, your best-friend wanted you to join her to some frat-house where, apparently, the “most incredible” Christmas party was about to be held? Uh-uh. No way. Your actual plan for a Friday night (= eating take-out food in front of some true crime documentary on Netflix) seemed much more appealing than the effort your friend seemed to require from you.

“You’re really gonna bail on me? What if something happens to me?”

“Now this is guilt pressure and you’re so much better than this! “ You laughed, “plus… I know you wanna go just so you can make out with Harrison… You really don’t need me for this and truth be told, I really don’t need to see that guy shove his tongue down your throat!”

“Maybe YOU need someone to shove his tongue down your throat “

“I’ll pass, thanks “

“Come on, how long has it been since you’ve got laid? “

“That’s… way beside the point?””

Still, you thought about it.

How long has it been, really?

Well. As far as you could remember, there were a couple (disastrous) tinder dates at the beginning of the semester. Nothing major even though the sex was still okay. Then you had decided to delete the app so you could focus on your studies, thinking that, eventually, life would grant you with an actual IRL, cute boy who could actually work a little harder to get into your pants whereas it had taken a single swipe on a screen for the previous contestants.

But for now, as the semester had come to an end and Christmas break was around the corner, it only occurred to you just how busy you had been, studying all night long and running on fumes and gallons of coffee. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you truly needed to blow off some steam. Sometimes you wished you were more like her, carefree and less picky when it came to boys and random flings. Like her current crush, Harrison.

Harrison was a typical heartthrob with the face of a Greek God, so it was only natural for him to act like a brat and play with girls as he wished. With his piercing blue eyes and dreamy smile, girls could only wish he would look at them twice. But still, he wasn’t the worst part of Team Jackass, as you liked to call them. Their captain was actually Tom Holland. Football Quarterback, Tom collected girls’ hearts like trophies and held his pride within his questionable reputation. Party animal, heavy drinker and confirmed exhibitionist since he’d been caught fucking a cheerleader in the middle of the football field right after a game, his name was on everyone’s lips, whether they whispered gossips down the faculty’s corridor or muffled into a pillow as he dived into another naïve, besotted girl with the promise of an encore. To this day, all of the girls he had laid his eyes on were still waiting for a call-back.

You pulled a disgusted face at the thought of witnessing his little hunting game one more time. Tom was actually one of the main reasons why you usually skipped any frat party now. There were just so much time you could waste, sipping on some funky tasting “home-made” punch as “Football superstar” Tom Holland bragged about his athletic skills or how many girls he had fucked over the last couple days. Sometimes, it felt like a competition between him and his brain-dead friends. Somehow, you just knew he kept score of his one-night stands. Maybe he’d give you five stars for trying anal, a deep throat would give you another six and god forbid if you flattered his enormous, gigantic cock, well then, by all means, the throne would be yours. There was just something about him that screamed and irradiated praise kink.

“Y/N? Have I lost you?”

Your friend’s voice brought you back to reality as you seemed to have blacked out for a while.

Then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, the words came out of your mouth.

“What time is the party then?”

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For every party, there’s a dress code.

Surely, a “Christmas” party just couldn’t be, without a fair splash of colorful jumpers or any subtle hints at Santa Clause as an excuse for a last-minute theme. Still, standing in front of what could only be Wednesday Addams’ wardrobe, you were suddenly hit by your lack of interest for any piece of clothes that wasn’t a shade between black and white. Was beige even a color anyway?

For a brief second, you considered wearing your infamous Christmas onesie, basically a fluffy one piece with a zipper, an oversized hood and covered with snowflakes and candy canes. The jokes would never end but no one could blame you for being ‘off theme’, then.

In the end, you settled for a rare “colorful” top which, luckily, happened to be whatever shade of green Christmas trees actually were. It was also skin tight and you knew for a fact it made your chest looks twice its size because of the way the velvet fabric enhanced your waistline. It was nowhere near provocative with its long sleeves and turtle-neck so you figured you could be a little bit more risky with the bottom part of your outfit, grabbing the black mini-skirt you’d bought a week before on a splurge, even though you didn’t know if you’d ever find the confidence to pull it off. It was short, there was no denying that as you turned around in the shop’s fitting room to catch a glimpse at your backside, knowing your whole ass would be exposed if you ever dared to bend down even so slightly.

Still, you felt sexy in it and as a girl who happily traded a sexy dress for yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, any piece of clothes that made you feel good about yourself was an instant buy.

Looking down at your final outfit as it laid down on your bed, a pair of nice ankle boots at the bottom of it, you patted yourself on the back for making the extra effort and walked to the bathroom for a well-deserved boiling shower.  Staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you sighed to yourself as the aftermath of a sleep deprived week and lack of skin care routine or basic maintenance whatsoever hit you like a truck on the highway. Your hair had been wrapped into the same messy bun for days and it would definitely take some professional skills to cover up the bags under your eyes.

Maybe this party was the wake-up call you needed, the equivalent of a Judging look from your mother every time you visited her after a while. You could almost hear her complain about how unhealthy you looked and how you should wear more “flattering” clothes. Ironically, you also knew she would never approve the skirt you intended to wear that night. You remembered just too well that frown she’d given you at your father’s 60th birthday and how you had to gulp an entire bottle of red wine to forget about the fact the woman who gave birth to you had called you a prostitute for wearing a dress above the knees. Sometimes it’d be like that. Family gathering were like a plague, somehow, you just couldn’t escape it and it would either scar you for life or make you wish you were dead.

As you entered the cubicle, the coldness of the tiles hit you, covering your skin with goosebumps and sending shivers down your spine. It took you a couple minutes to adjust as you waited for the water to turn hot enough to coat the mirror with a thick foggy layer. Only then did you relax, letting go of this week’s emotionally charged weight upon your shoulders and focusing on yourself, at last.

It was a fairly long shower as you decided to go through your entire haircare routine instead of a brief, one minute shampoo. Not to mention the fact you also had to shave entirely as it felt like it would be a good way to get rid of this nightmare of a semester, like stepping out of your old skin and into a new one. Usually, body hair was probably too far down the list of your preoccupations to even be noticed but you figured, as you felt surprisingly motivated, now was the right time to make your body smooth as a baby. You actually loved the feeling of a soft, freshly shaved skin.

As you rinsed off the soap, your hands fondling the body parts water failed to reach, your mind unexpectedly wandered through some steamy thoughts as soon as your fingertips grazed your slit, taking some shy dip between your folds. It was no surprise that a simple, barely there stroke would instantly strike your arousal, after all, it had been a while. You shamelessly admitted that your studies had taken over your life, up to the point you’d even find yourself too exhausted for some self-love. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, the small collection of adult toys you owned were probably collecting dust in the middle of your socks and panties, wondering when they’d get to take a swim and make you squirm into your sheets as you hold on to the headboard, biting your lip until it turns white so you don’t scream through climax.

What struck you the most was the fact TomfuckingHolland came to your mind the very second your middle finger met your clit, circling it softly as you felt electricity spark through your legs, making it jolt. Why the hell was his stupid smug splattered all over your unspeakable thoughts when he was, by far, the last man on Earth you’d let come close to your naked self? Let alone in a shower cubicle the size of a shoe-box where you’d have no space whatsoever to escape his heavy, muscular chest.

His body looked ridiculously built for a man with the face of a 13 year-old. Sometimes you’d catch him randomly flex throughout the day, showing off his enormous biceps to anyone willing to praise his impeccable shape. There would be no room for these guns in there, you thought as a brief image of these massive arms shielding you from both side, fists tight against the tiles, came immediately to your mind. What took you by surprise wasn’t to actually picture Tom standing in there with you, naked and definitely willing to make that room a lot steamier, but the fact you slipped a finger into your surprisingly dripping core as soon as you imagined him stepping closer so your bare, sticky chests would meet, his obvious arousal poking at your inner thigh, begging to make an entrance.

You stopped before you inevitably came, even though your body craved for that well-deserved relief. You may have been hornier than you thought, but not nearly horny enough to hand your first orgasm in months on a silver plate to a boy who probably stroked himself in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Your thighs squeezed together where your fingers had left a desperate void, rinsing your entire body with a much colder water, hoping it would bring your sanity back.

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You looked incredible.

It wasn’t just you boosting your ego through a pep talk in front of your mirror back in your dorm this time, and even if you loved to give yourself an encouraging speech, praising whatever features you thought made the cut in the top three of your best assets as you gathered the strength to go out in public in an outfit pretty far from your comfort zone, nothing could ever beat the look people gave you as you walked into the frat house looking like a three courses meal. There was just something about that short time slot where you caught a gaze and knew what that look was all about.

You knew Liza, the head student with a soft spot for athletes so obvious she probably had the entire football team’s handprints tattooed on her skin, just hated to see you get the attention she usually caught. Athletes loved nerdy, smart-ass girls like her, but to her own despair, you actually happened to be one of those, only with a shorter skirt and thicker thighs.

You knew half of Team Jackass was already staring at you, wishing they’d catch a glimpse of whatever you had to offer underneath that impeccable outfit as the soft fabric of your skirt kept rising up, every step bringing you closer to an unfortunate peek at the plain, white cotton undies you had chosen to wear that night.

But above anything, you could most definitely feel someone’s gaze upon you, burning up your skin like lasers trying to scan through your clothes. Suddenly, you felt exposed and with a simple smirk, Tom-Holland came out, strong as ever, just so he could pop out the comforting bubble you had built around you. Of course, he had chosen to wear the tightest white tee-shirt so everyone could distinctively see each of his six, rock-hard abs. Of course, his sleeves were slightly rolled up to enhance his biceps and if you weren’t familiar with his despicable behavior, seeing him flex just so he could kiss the pumped-up mount irrupting from his upper arm like a fresh batch of popcorn on a stove, you could have barfed immediately at the disgusting sight of a man with an ego the size of a fucking comet.

For now, you simply rolled your eyes all the way to the back of your head and watched as he smiled cockily, his hand reaching out for a redhead girl’s cheek even though his eyes were most definitely undressing you from afar. You could tell the girl had dressed to impress as she was tightly wrapped into the just-slutty-enough version of Santa’s outfit. Basically a velvet red dress with a fluffy white strap on top of her bustier. The way she laughed and twirled her long curly strand of hair as she gazed lovingly at Tom was enough for you to know she would soon join the never-ending list of names on his score board.

Shaking your head at how easy it seemed for him to get laid within the first hour of a party, you made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol seemed to be. As expected, most students were already sipping at some questionable cocktail right from the bowl with a straw and since you didn’t feel like going straight for the strong stuff, you settled for a beer, fiddling with the bottle cap for a solid minute before you heard a voice coming from behind your back.

“Need some hand with that, sweetheart?”

The cocky tone and thick accent immediately sent you off as a long, single shiver ran down your spine from the disgusting thoughts it brought along. It had come to the point you couldn’t even stand his stupid voice.

“I’m fine, thanks” you lied, your first still tightly gripped on your sealed beverage.

“You look like you could use some strength…”

Of course, he had to bring up his impressive, spectacular strength within seconds. Maybe he expected you to slow clap, bow down or throw confetti’s all over him for being strong enough to open a beer bottle. What on Earth would you do without his strong, manly hands?

Grinding your teeth as your tongue clicked against your palate out of pure annoyance, you gave him the most unimpressed look as he grabbed the bottle from your hand, popping out the cap hard enough to make it fly off and hit the table with a soft, metallic thump. Smirking to himself, Tom handed you the bottle back, tilting his head as he obviously expected some enthusiastic reaction.

“Do you want a medal or something?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be a good start? “He mocked, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your consider throwing the entire bottle at his face to wash away his stupid cockiness.

“Thanks” you simply blurted out, raising your beer slightly before walking away as you took a couple sips. It wasn’t even that cold or remotely good.

Tom watched as you walked away in silence, his eyes inevitably drawn to the way your hips and that glorious ass of yours seemed to wiggle into that daunting skirt. Grazing his thumb over his bottom lip with a smirk, the eager flame in his eyes made his will to take you to a quiet place grow bigger with each step you took.

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The music was getting considerably louder as people were now dancing all over the place, from the staircase to whatever was left of furniture after too many parties hosted in this house.  The constant buzzing sound of chit-chats and laughter was slowly making your head spin as you gulped on your third (or was it the fourth?) Shot of tequila. As expected, Y/BFF/N had wasted no time as she was already clinging to Harrison’s neck, feasting on his mouth like an open buffet. His hands were on her bum, holding on to it for dear life with a strong grip. At least, she was having fun.

Out of boredom and to your own surprise, you had agreed on doing shots with a couple people you knew from class. Not technically what you’d call reliable friends but you always bumped into them at parties where you’d basically chat, and drink. From afar, you could see some people had gathered around a table where Team Jackass had started the inevitable beer pong contest. Nibbling at a piece of lime, hoping it would wash away the burning haze of the tequila, you winced at the sourness as your eyes suddenly locked with Tom’s. He was now holding his arms up on both side, raising one fist through the air as he had clearly won that first round. There was something pathetic about a man in his twenties begging for attention and acting like he was about to claim the gold medal at the Olympics when all he did was throw a feather-weighted plastic ball into a red cup.

All the alcohol in the world would never get you drunk enough to tolerate this guy.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see him act so pitiful when he face was actually okay. Well. He was definitely cute as long as his mouth was shut and his stupid, pretentious smug out of the way. With his soft, chocolate brown eyes, his tousled eyebrows and thin pink lips, he could’ve been a guy you’d be interested in. His brown hair was somehow, always tucked into a snapback or a beanie but you had caught a glimpse of his natural curls once and though it killed you on the inside to admit it, he did look great when he didn’t try too hard to be a complete asshole.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see him walk towards you.

“We’re doing shots now? “

“Impressive” you frowned, “did you figure it out all by yourself?” you chuckled, swallowing what’s left of lime, basically pulp, in one soft gulp.

“You like to act all smart ass around me, don’t you?”

“Correction: I am, in fact, smart… Not that it’s something you’re familiar with so, pardon me if it’s all too confusing for you… “

“Are you calling me dumb, then?” he was frowning now, his enormous self-centered head deflating under the unexpected pressure of your witty come-back.

“Did you hear the word ‘dumb’ coming out of my mouth?”

“No – but I sure know what I would like to see come in that sweet mouth of yours, darling”

The fact he had the nerves to say that kind of stuff right to your face was enough to piss you off but what caught you off guard was his hand reaching for your face as his thumb delicately grazed your bottom lip, pulling at it just enough for you to taste his fingertip.

“Surely, lime isn’t the only thing you like to suck on?” he smiled, cocky as ever as you could feel actual rage building up from your core and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I suggest you keep your hands off me” you snapped, pushing his hand off your face as he laughed to himself, the raspy sound caught in his throat making you throb against all odds.

“Or what? What you gonna do about it, uh?” he teased, confident as ever, his words coming out of his mouth halfway between a threat and a challenge. His arms were crossed against his chest now, making every inch of muscle he owned just pop out. There was nothing sweet about the way his body was built, and was he ever given the occasion, you knew he could break your spine in half with his one hand. You just wished you’d never thought about it as the filthiest images came to your mind, starting with Tom spinning you around over the sink in the bathroom and pinning you down with his palm pressed between your shoulder blades as he pounded hard and fast into you.

Maybe Tequila had gotten to your head faster than you expected.

“I know girls like you” he started, walking backwards until your back hit the wall and you were completely trapped between his arms, one of his leg parting yours so his knee would slowly graze that spot where your thighs met, claiming his access to that precious part of your body you could definitely feel getting damper against your will.

“What about it?” you asked, slightly more provocative than you had intended.

“You like to act all innocent, pretending you have higher standards…” His breath was warm, wrapped into the thickness of alcohol, curving a ball at the back of his throat so his voice would come out raspier and lower than usual, “… but secretly you just want guys like me to fuck the back of your throat until you choke”.

You felt it. Your pussy throb at the single thought of it. You didn’t want to physically react to these obscene images, words coming out of his mouth filthier than anything you’d ever heard, but still, as hard as you wanted to remain cold and unbothered, there was no denying for the dampness between your thighs. You just hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to notice it.

“You disgust me” it took you all the strength you had to spat back at him, and even then, all he did was smile then chuckle softly to himself as his hand slid up your throat, wrapping it slowly until his thumb pressed itself into the crook under your chin, nesting as it was made to be there.

“Please—are you really going to pretend you’ve never thought about my cock filling up your pretty mouth?” his fingers found your lips again, tracing it slowly as your heartbeat increased with each word, “like you’ve never thought about me when you finger yourself at night” he paused, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head, his mouth coming closer to your hear with a dark whisper “I know you do, baby… I know you touch yourself thinking of me, wishing those fingers were mine, diving into your dripping cunt… Touching spots you could only wish you’d reach… how I would spread those lips open and run my tongue all over your slit….” A warm breeze brushed your neck as a cursed laugh escaped his lips, making you squirm unexpectedly, “I bet you taste so sweet, I would never get enough of that glorious pussy…”

By now, you were wrapped into the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It was strong and manly as expected, yet comforting in a way you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to picture yourself wearing that grey hoodie he loved to wear after a game, his perfume raining over your bare chest as you’d lazily ride him on his dorm bed after you’d get bored of whatever movie you’d settled for, pushing your panties to the side as he couldn’t be bothered taking it off completely. You didn’t want to picture him unzipping that same hoodie, palming your boob with one of his strong hands as his mouth sucked on your nipple until your soft, delicate skin turned red from all the biting marks. You didn’t want to feel yourself stretch around his rock-hard cock as he’d lift your legs up to wrap it around his neck, because he’s that kind of jerk who likes to show off even when he’s completely buried inside of you, that kind of complete asshole who loves to remind you just how deep he can go, smirking to himself as he hits your special spot over and over and over…. until you beg for him to stop. That kind of utterly disgusting dickhead who’d never stop, because he knows that, deep down, you just want him to keep going.

“Now you can tell me you’re not already wet… But we both know that’s a lie” he smiled again and as you felt his hand going down, palming you through your top and all the way down to the front of your skirt, you finally decided to come to your senses and grabbed his wrist into your tight fist, stopping him just in time before he’s reached the only approval he truly needed.

“Go to hell, Holland” you snapped, using all of your strength to push him off and walk away.

You didn’t turn back to see him chuckle at the sight of your flushed face.

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The coldness of water came as a shock as you bent over the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face until it didn’t feel like your skin was on fire. Grabbing a towel, you patted your cheeks and forehead, staring at the reflection in front of you. You definitely looked flustered, like you had just run a marathon when all you really did was to suffer through your archenemy’s evil little game.

Usually, you would have just brushed it off and that’d be it. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn’t seem to shake him off your thoughts, his voice still echoing through your head like a curse without a cure. Outside the bathroom, you could hear the muffled sound of music and screams coming from the living room as beer-pong had turned into strip-pong with everyone removing a piece of clothes every time the ball missed the cup. Typical, drunken behavior. Soon enough these parties would turn into a massive orgy and it wouldn’t even come out as a big surprise.

Freshen up a little had helped you settle your thoughts back into place but still, your body didn’t seem to catch a break as the build-up tension and frustration Tom had caused within your core was yet to be released. There was no denying that your toys would have come handy if you were back to your dorm room as it felt like your pussy kept clenching for no reason, like the gaping mouth of the thirstiest man in the middle of a drought. You knew how bad you needed to put it out of its misery but if you thought undressing for a ping pong game was bad, what would happen if anyone walked on you literally fingering yourself in the bathroom of a frat-house? No one would shut up about it.

Tom would certainly not. Shut. Up. About. It. Ever.

You pressed your thighs together, hoping for some sort of relief as his words came back haunting you, thinking about how your hand had found its way between your legs earlier in the shower, the very second you had thought about his body pushing you up against the tiles. Is that what he was to you, now? A fantasy? Would you become another disgusting cliché of a girl begging for the typical frat boy to fuck her at a party because she couldn’t handle his dirty mouth?

Then you thought about your best-friend and how the last time you’d seen her, she was heading upstairs with Harrison, giggling, her lipstick smudged all over her chin after making out heavily on the couch up to the point everyone was starting to wonder whether they should be charged for that kind of peep-show or just roll with it. How she was probably getting fucked in his bedroom while you were standing alone in a bathroom, dripping wet for a man you hated down to the very bottom of your guts.

The door swung open abruptly, making you jump.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding!” Tom smiled, walking in.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy?”

“I need to take a piss, you’re the one standing out there doing nothing” he joked, walking to the toilets with his hands already fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

“Hum, excuse me?” you spat, widening your eyes as you realized he was genuinely about to use the toilets with you still standing a few meters away.

“I said I needed to take a piss… So either you just stand there watching, which I don’t mind really… or you can get out?” he pointed his chin towards the door, unbothered as he casually pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Both infuriated and shocked, you turned around as there was no point leaving the room now that his whole junk was out and already halfway through it.

“Do you have to be that disgusting? Really you’re such a pig!” you complained as you heard him sigh with relief before the toilet flush broke the most awkward silence of your entire existence.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll clean it up real nice just for you…” he smiled even though you still had your back turned to him. You heard him use the tap, washing his hands for a considerably long amount of time. At least he wasn’t one of those filthy rats who thought basic hygiene was optional.

“What were you doing by the way?” he finally asked, grabbing the towel to your left, “touching yourself thinking about me?”

You turned around to face his cocky face once more, this time with a furious need to slap it. Hard.

“You know I’ve seen you walking around campus a couple times, Y/N… Those big jumpers and yoga pants you like to wear don’t do that body any justice, but this?” he circled his finger in the air, pointing out her entire outfit “this, I like to see… and if you weren’t being a little brat I would gladly pull up that skirt up to your waist and have you there, above the sink…”

“I’m being a brat?” you scoffed. That was rich, coming from the ultimate king of bratty assholes.

“Well you call it whatever you like but denying yourself something you truly need just to prove a point seems a little childish…” he shrugged, shoving his hands into this jeans pocket and giving you a perfect glimpse at the veins running up his arms and disappearing underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“You think all girls are begging for you to fuck them? Really?”

“Probably, yeah, and who could blame them really? I have a great cock and I’ve never had a single bad review about the way I use it…” he smiled, with the arrogance of a king sitting on a throne of indecency.

“You’re so full of yourself… it’s insane” you shook your head with pure disgust.

“Then go ahead and prove it”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“That you’re not dripping wet as we speak…”

Point taken.

You were, indeed, dripping wet and soon enough, you’d have some serious explaining to do as the thin cotton fabric of your underwear was now soaked with your unsolicited arousal. Even though your head was filled with hateful thoughts and resentment for Tom, it felt like your body would not stop begging for his touch, dragging him closer like two pieces of magnets on a fridge. Unconsciously, you were now standing a couple inch away from his face, so close you could actually smell the soft mixt of menthol and alcohol from his breath. There was no point denying the obvious tension between you two as you looked like you were about to break into a passionate kiss but now it was just a fight between your will for self-preservation and your body, aching to be touched.

And so you heard yourself say these words you never thought you’d say, like you were standing in the audience as your other self was performing on stage, making some questionable decisions you weren’t 100% okay with.

“Which one’s your bedroom?”

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You could have fought longer, for the sake of your personal values, but as your feet were swiped off the ground, your back hitting the door as it closed behind you with a loud slam, all of your good sense and respectable choices just vanished as much filthier thoughts buried them for good.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands had wasted no time and found their way under your top, fondling your breast with the hunger of a wolf. Your lips attached to his, you moaned louder than expected as he pushed himself a little harder against you, the obvious stiffness of his crotch pressing against your aching core. Your skirt had risen up to your waist from spreading your legs a little too wide, flashing your white panties as it was now so soaked you could definitely see the outline of your lips, the thin fabric sticking to your slit. Catching your breath, heavy pants breaking your kiss, you looked into Tom’s eyes only to see nothing but pure, absolute lust in them. As you tugged at his brown locks, a couple strand curling slightly at the back of his neck, you watched as his snapback fell to the floor with a thump, unleashing his brown untamed mane.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so bad, groaning slightly as your fingers scrapped the back of his neck, your lips sucking on his throat for good measures. With his head tilted back slightly, it felt like Tom was getting soft for a while, caving in so you could take control over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long as he suddenly traced a hand all the way down to your inner thigh, immediately pushing your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“I knew it…” he smiled, sliding his finger along your slit as you wrapped it up with a glistening coat of arousal. You knew he had won the minute he felt just how wet you were for him, but when it should have been upsetting, you just didn’t care. All you needed now was to feel his cock filling you up in any way he wanted, “who made you this wet, darling?” he smiled, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Don’t be a brat…” you complained as you could see some mischief in the way he looked at you.

“Just say it” he insisted “I want to hear you say out loud just how wet I make you” this wasn’t a request, but an order. And for some obscure reason you didn’t want to figure out, it somehow turned you on even more.

“You…” you started, biting your lip out of nerves, or out of excitement, you weren’t sure quite yet. “You make me so wet, Tom” you almost moaned, pushing yourself a little harder against his hand when he failed to give you exactly what you needed. His fingers. Buried deep inside of you.

“Hmm” Tom groaned, two of his digits spreading your lips apart at a torturing slow pace, “I like the sound of that…” his knuckles were barely halfway when you buckled your hips off the door, begging for more, “what’s that darling? Tell me what you want…” he was whispering by now, slowly pushing his fingers into your desperate slit, “I want to hear you beg for it…”

You felt him push deeper, curving his fingers into a hook every time he reached your g-spot. By now you were so aroused you just knew it would take you more than a couple stroke to cum heavily into his awaiting palm. You could hear the sloppy sound of your own wetness every time he slammed his slick, extremely skilled digits back into your throbbing pussy. His lips curved into a hasty smile as he could feel you literally drip all over his palm and wrist.

“I want you… I want you so much” you barely managed to whimper as he increased the pace, his wrist working its magic between your thighs.

“Hmm hmm? I’m gonna need you to be more specific baby… what exactly do you want?” his thumb grazed your clit for a brief second and that was enough for you to squeal under his touch, making you clench suddenly around his fingers, “say you want my cock” he almost growled as you felt his hard-on twitch against your thigh, begging to be freed.

“I want your cock” you immediately wimped, your own words sending shivers down your spine as you twitched with anticipation, “I want it so, so bad…”

“Good girl…” he hummed, slowing down the pace so he could add a third finger, stretching you out slightly this time, “d’you think you can take it though? It’s pretty big…” he smiled, twisting his hand just enough so he could dig himself a path.

You simply nodded, unable to speak anymore, but as you were about to beg for more, Tom removed his hand, leaving you frustrated and hornier than ever. His face changed suddenly as he watched you pout, his hand reaching up for your lips.

“What about that pretty mouth, then? You think it may fit?” he smiled, spreading your lips apart so you could taste yourself on his soaked fingers. You immediately obliged, sucking at it, one by one, never keeping your eyes off him. When he shoved three of his digits, watching as your tongue twirled around it, cleaning it off completely, you could definitely tell his eyes had gotten darker, filled with unspeakable thoughts you would be begging to hear soon.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he added, removing his fingers from your mouth so he could give you a soft, cheeky slap on the cheek. You nodded, obedient as ever. “Say it” he commanded, louder this time, “say you want my cock inside your mouth”.

“I want it… I want your cock inside my mouth” you pouted, only because you knew he loved to see you beg like a spoiled little princess. You’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at you every time you tilted your head to fake an innocence that was long gone.

Tom stepped back, walking away slowly as he watched you standing there, flustered, your hair all over the place, panting out of lust and frustration. Pulling his shirt off, you watched as his impressive chest unveiled in front of you. Abs like rocks, a thin strand of hair tracing a path from his navel to his crotch, disappearing under his jeans, his impeccable V-line bringing images you never thought you had within yourself. As he pushed his hair back, daunting you with his a look half way between arrogance and disdain, it felt like all signs of dignity had left your brain as all you could think about was to crawl to the floor and beg for his cock.

“What you’re waiting for then, Darling?” he smiled, unzipping his flies as he watched you walk towards him and get on your knees within seconds.

Your hands pulled at his jeans until it finally pooled around his ankles. Looking up to stare into his eyes, you felt both small and powerful, submissive but in control as you were now responsible for this man pleasure. It was up to you whether he’ll get to cum or not. But as you considered edging him as an option, Tom wasted no time in remembering you who was actually in charge.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he sighed, grabbing your hair into a fist as his other hand stroked his cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. You could tell he was just horny as you were as a couple pre-cum had already stained his briefs, turning it into a darker shade of grey.

Again, you nodded, removing his hand so you could replace it with yours, palming him through his briefs as he growled against your touch. He was big. Actually much bigger than you expected but somehow, you were up for a challenge. Tracing the outline of his cock with your fingers tips, you felt him push his hands on the back of your head, forcing you to come closer to his crotch.

“I want to fuck your pretty little mouth so, so bad” he groaned as you unexpectedly ran your tongue all over his stiff through the fabric, feeling it twitch as you palmed his balls. By now he was so hard you could feel the veins tracing a dirty road up to his leaking head as Tom started grinding slowly against your mouth, messing up your hair with his desperate fists.

When you pulled down his boxers, you took a couple seconds to stare at his glorious manhood, hard and pressed against his abdomen where it curved slightly, your mouth watering with a thirst you could have never pictured, especially when standing in Tom Holland’s bedroom. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have this magnificent piece of flesh filling up your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tom smirked, boasting as ever but immediately squinting his eyes with a deep growl the minute he felt your tongue licking at the base, slowly going up until you finally bobbed on his creaming head.

You had always been good at this, giving head. Not that all of your partners would give you a proper review in the morning, pointing out your highs and lows, but there were just things men couldn’t do, like hiding the fact they were just having the time of their lives. And right now, Tom actually looked like there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than standing here, with his cock in your mouth.

Twirling your hand at the base where you mouth couldn’t go just yet, you started bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking your cheeks in so your mouth would pop every time his dick came out. You had quickly figured out a couple things about Tom, including the fact he just seemed to love it dirty and noisy. You could actually hear him growl louder, his fist tightening its grip into your hair every time he slipped off your lips, only for him to shove it back a little harder and definitely deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it baby… Just like that… you’re such a good girl…”

You were a good girl, indeed. Always had been. Straight-A’s student from day one, the pride and joy of your parents, spending most of your week-ends doing some volunteer work whenever it was needed while being a caring, polite girl who never did anything wrong. Right choices only.

Or so you thought. Obviously, tonight would be always marked as the only questionable decision on your impeccable path to perfection. But still, as Tom grabbed your face with both hands to push himself deeper and all the way down your throat, making you gasp for air slightly, you had no regrets.

You stayed still for as long as your lungs could handle it, holding on to his firm, muscular buttocks as you swallowed him all. Looking down on you, Tom was left speechless as his cock stretched your cheeks out, his balls resting into your palm as you twitched them slowly, making it jolt with both pain and pleasure. When you felt like you were about to gag, you pushed yourself back, gasping for air as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt numb and yet it missed the feeling of being stretched out already.

“Hmmm baby look at you…. you think you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah” was all you could blurt out. Yes to anything he wanted. You were prepared. You longed for it.

Looking around as Tom started pumping himself, getting ready for you, spitting into his palm to lube himself up so your lips wouldn’t drag along his shaft too much, you just couldn’t believe you were there, kneeling on the navy carpet of Tom Holland’s bedroom, the epitome of the ultimate frat boy. A huge flag from his favorite sports team was hanging above his bed, his never-ending hats collection sitting on wooden shelves by the wall like it was some kind of “frat boy starter pack” Art exhibition. In the corner of the room, you caught an unexpected glimpse at a guitar. It looked fairly new, but never in a million years would you have pictured Tom playing guitar. On his desk, his laptop was still open on a Spotify tab where you’d probably find a playlist based on some typical white boy rap music but against all odds, the room looked neat compared to what you had in mind.

“You look so beautiful” he sighed, out of nowhere, and to be completely honest, had your mouth not been filled with his dick, you would have probably picked up your jaw from the floor. Taking him all in once more, you just pretended you couldn’t hear, sparing you some awkward misunderstanding. Maybe those words were actually directed to his dick. After all, the boy loved himself just that much.

His hands were all over your face, wiping tears from your eyes every time he hit the back of your throat a little too hard, stroking your cheeks, massaging the back of your neck, roaming through your tangled hair as your kept up with his reckless pace, his hips swinging back and forth while you remained completely still so you could take him like a champ.

“God, I love to see you choke on my cock….” He gritted through his teeth “so…so hot…” you could tell he was getting sloppier now, pumping in and out of your mouth abruptly then a lot more slower as a couple twitch from his cock gave you a hint of his upcoming grand finale.

By now, you were a slippery mess, the taste of pre-cum hitting your throat as you dribbled all over his shaft, obscene sounds of suction coming out of your mouth every time he pushed himself out and back in all over again.

“F----uuuuck….fuck baby I’m gonna come!” he grunted, the sudden high-pitch of his broken voice driving you insane as you pushed yourself up a little so you could open your mouth wider, expecting him to fill it up soon enough. “D’you want me to cum in your mouth? Uh?” again, he gave you a little slap on the cheek, not quite hard enough for you to feel any pain. You nodded, moaning whatever came close to a “yes” as every single inch of your mouth was filled with Tom.

You heard him whimper, twitching a couple times, harder with his thrust as his hand fisted into your hair abruptly throughout his climax. Looking up to see his face, your eyes locked with his as he came all over your tongue, raining down your throat with a couple last, sloppy thrusts.

“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuuu------“

Your eyes immediately teared up as you tried your best to swallow every drop of cum he had to give, the corner of your lips dripping like an overflowing sink.

Then there was a complete silence.

As you wiped your mouth off the thick, warmness of his cum, you felt him kneel to your side, then sit. Both of you looked completely exhausted, drained from every ounce of energy you had left.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad… for a little brat” he spoke again, and you just couldn’t believe he had gathered the energy to say this when he could have chosen silence.

Laughing quietly to yourself so you wouldn’t slap him across the face, you decided not to fuel him up and remained quiet instead. His hair had gone curlier than heaver, his glistening red face making him look like any cute boy you could easily fall for.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of you at frat parties now?” he spoke again, and though it truly pissed you off to admit it, you just knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. For all you knew, this, was barely a prequel to a long, bumpy story of a good girl gone bad.

All because of Tom-fucking-Holland.

[cuttlefishkitch]

hello! i haven't talked to you before, but ron said that i could ask you for some advice on writing eds? (i'd like to know things to avoid/common things that could come up in everyday life that would be good to mention/the sort of aids and stuff they'd have maybe?/anything else you think is relevant)

Hi! Sorry this took so long, a combination of ADHD and chronic pain slowed me way the fuck down. Thank you for being patient! 

EDIT: WEIRD HEEL THINGS I FORGOT!!

So, before I get into this I should probably say I technically haven’t been diagnosed with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (EDS for anyone reading) because it’s one of those syndromes that takes forever to get diagnosed with (it took a friend of mine’s mother over 30 years to get dxed). Many doctors, and everyone I know who does have EDS agree with me that it’s probably what causes my chronic joint pain and some of my other chronic issues. But just because three separate doctors have said “Yeah Probably” doesn’t mean I’m diagnosed!! Only a geneticist can do that!! And they had two-three year waitlists BEFORE the apocalypse happened.

I am diagnosed with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS), Small Fiber Neuropathy, and potentially misdiagnosed with Fibromyalgia (once I get properly tested for EDS I might get undiagnosed with this because I don’t have most of the main symptoms of Fibro, but I got diagnosed with it anyway because it’s what doctors misDX you with when they don’t know what’s wrong with you and don’t want to do more tests).

All that said, I’ve done a lot of research about EDS (mainly because it’s the only thing that explains all my symptoms since doctors seem incapable of doing so), and know a few people who have either confirmed or suspected EDS, so I’ll link to some stuff, talk about the symptoms that often come with EDS, explain how the symptoms I have affect me, because just because someone’s not diagnosed doesn’t mean they aren’t having symptoms, and probs elaborate a bit about writing physical disabilities and chronic pain in general because it’s super important to me! 

So RESOURCES aka how to make sure your post never sees the light of day because you’re linking things and tumblr hates it when people give other people information!!

Youtubers! If you want to know about the day to day of living with EDS or any disability or chronic illness I super suggest finding a youtuber that makes videos about their life. My EDS favorites are

Jessica Kellgren-Fozard

Annie Elainey

Amy Lee Fisher

Websites! If you’re asking random folks on tumblr I’m assuming (and hoping) you’ve already done the basic WebMD google searches and looked over the seemingly ridiculous lists of symptoms and related conditions, so here are a few websites that are made more for people than for doctors.

The Ehlers Danlos Society

OhTWIST (That’s Why I’m So Tired)

ChronicPainPartners (the fact that they have an entire section of articles called “Dealing with Doctors” should really tell you something)

Books! If you feel like doing actual reading! I suggest reading books written by people with Ehlers Danlos, to get a feel for how they portray themselves. I’m not saying steal, but it’s probably a good point of comparison to see how your portrayal feels. (haven’t actually read these b/c my ADHD doesn’t let me read)

Ria Ruse by Morgan S. Ray (a superhero book with a disabled super MC!!)

Mysteries of Maybelle by Imani Benfell (Imani is still in high school and has already written and self-published a book cause she didn’t have enough representation for herself how cool is she!!)

Bodies in Motion by Liana Brooks (tw for pregnancy problems and miscarriages in the link, because it’s a blog post talking about integrating EDS symptoms into the story without explicitly naming them as such)

OKAY, now for some rambling about EDS SYMPTOMS!!!

Ehlers Danlos is one monster of a genetic condition in complexity and variety. There are THIRTEEN different identified types of EDS, it often comes with Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) and/or POTS, and can lead to various other conditions like gastroparesis, chiari malformation, craniocervical instability, and/or bad teeth. So if you’re going to be writing a character with EDS consider what other comorbid conditions they might also have. I’m mainly going to be talking about Hypermobile EDS (hEDS) because it’s what I probably have and what I’m most familiar with. That said there is a lot of overlap in symptoms with the other varieties.

I started typing this section and realized I was going to have to break it down even more so we’re going to talk about Chronic Pain, Unstable Joints (Dislocations and Subluxations), Skin Things, Mobility Issues, and Other Weird Shit and how those things get addressed separately.

Gonna get the Other Weird Shit out of the way first. Because EDS is a malfunction of connective tissue it can fuck up all sorts of random things. For instance, I and many other people w/ hEDS have trouble swallowing. Shit gets stuck in my throat, I sometimes choke on and have to cough up food, and pills can be hard to swallow, which sucks cause I take A Lot Of Pills. If it doesn’t cause full-on gastroparesis it can cause IBS or other digestive problems b/c the digestive tract is mostly made of connective tissue. It can potentially cause heart problems even if they aren’t as big of a risk as in some other forms of EDS. Premature osteoarthritis is common because what you need is more joint pain. And Fatigue OH BOY THE FATIGUE. And of course the headaches, can’t forget those pesky migraines can we!

AND piezogenic papules!! I completely forgot!! Piezogenic papules are little white bumps that appear when you put weight on your heel. In some people they hurt, but in others they don’t. They’re technically tiny little herniations of fat peaking through the fascia in the heel. They were added as part of the diagnostic criteria for hEDS in 2017!

Now for Skin Things cause it’s not as big a thing in hEDS as it is in other forms. Basically, in a lot of forms of EDS, the skin is extra stretchy and extra delicate. It bruises and tears easily, people with the extreme versions of this can accidentally scratch something into an open wound if they aren’t careful. My skin is pretty soft and sensitive, I def have the typical velvety skin, and as is pretty par for the course of someone with hEDS my skin is a little stretchy, and sorta delicate. I’m not as tissue-papery as some people get, but I almost always have at least one mystery bruise or scrape b/c existing is hazardous. Most of scars are also pretty normal, unlike the extremely papery and atrophic scars (though I have a few tiny acne scars that are atrophic) that are common with other kinds of hEDS. Something that I DO have is Lots of Stretch Marks, all over my thighs, and even down to my calves. Which wouldn’t be abnormal, except for the fact that I’ve never been over 145 lbs and I’ve never been pregnant. Having a lot of stretch marks or striations in the skin without due cause happens because the structure of the skin isn’t as strong as it is in people with a normal amount of connective tissue.

I don’t have to worry as much about my skin but people that do are usually very careful with adhesives because they can irritate or tear the skin, which sucks when you need a lot of bandaids cause your darn skin won’t do its job.

Now on to the meatier stuff and since I’m mostly working backward let’s do Mobility Issues!! These can happen in loads of ways, but a lot of what causes these in people with EDS are the other two things I wanna talk about. Unstable joints lead to increased risk of injury when doing stuff people with fully functioning joints can do.

For context, I’m an ambulatory wheelchair user, meaning I can walk, but a lot of the time it’s better if use a chair. Mine is mostly for my POTS symptoms, but the fact that my legs aren’t also in absolute agony is a big plus. I use a custom manual wheelchair with a SmartDrive (b/c I’m very fucking fortunate and have good insurance) whenever I leave the house and have to be “walking” for more than a few minutes at a time. I can’t fully self-propel in a manual chair because it would be damaging to the joints in my arms and hands, but the smaller chair is easier to maneuver in less than accessible spaces (like almost everywhere). There was about a month-long span where I used a very cheap and very bulky electric chair while I was waiting on the ideal set up I have now. Before that, I also briefly used, and sometimes still use, an up-right posture cane.

People with EDS have widely varying mobility issues because of how uniquely it can manifest. My cane only gave me a little help with balance because if I used it in any prolonged capacity any pain it took away from my legs was relocated to my arms, and as an artist, my arms are more important to me!

If you’re going to write a character with EDS having mobility issues as a result of their EDS the best thing to do is to narrow down their specific needs. Are their knees complete and utter garbage but their shoulders and wrists strong? Maybe they can get away with using a cane. Can they not stand for longer than 5 minutes because of the vertigo from their POTS? Maybe they need a manual wheelchair. Would propelling themself damage their back and arm joints? An electric chair might be necessary! Plenty of people with EDS use all sorts of combinations of these aides to get around their life, consider how your character’s good and bad days would be. Do they have back up plans if they overestimate themselves? There can be a lot to manage, but don’t let it scare you off! Sometimes I try and make it into a resource management game (because I’m a game designer and that’s what I do), to make evaluating my energy and mobility needs more fun!

But now let's tackle some of the reasons those mobility aides might be needed. Unstable Joints.

Ever stepped wrong and rolled your ankle? It hurts for a few steps and then kinda fixes itself, or maybe it bothers you for the rest of the day and you put it up and ice it when you get home? When I was walking around outside my house that would happen AT LEAST once a month, usually more. Some times I’m sitting wrong and when I get up my knee isn’t a knee anymore and decides to just give out from under me. My knuckles are made of unruly popcorn and they Don’t Want To Stay Home!! Oh! And my shoulder is more often out a little out of its socket than it is fully in.

Unstable joints lead to Dislocations and Subluxations of varying intensity, and some people get them more frequently than others. Some can be severe enough to necessitate hospital visits and even surgery, some subluxations are so banal (like my fUCKING SHOULDER) that you just learn to live with the pain.

If a character is going to be in high action, combat-heavy scenarios, chances are they’re going to be popping out joints left and right. Hell, depending on the severity of their joint laxity they could be doing the same sitting at a desk. Again, it’s incredibly varied. I’d suggest setting some sort of baseline for yourself, of what a character’s joints can and can’t stand up to, and maybe do some research on which joints are most likely to pop out in general (hips and shoulders are big culprits being the wacky ball and socket motherfuckers they are). Then maybe have something pop out or hold up every so often when it shouldn’t cause hey! EDS is kinda just like that! Unpredictable!

Some ways people manage joint laxity is with braces, KT tape, and physical therapy. Braces come in many different forms, since I’m currently getting pretty much no treatment for my shitty joints I use mostly compression braces made for sporty people. It really is amazing how much a bit of tight fabric can do to keep my wrist in place.

More specialized braces often have solid parts to prevent the joints from hyper-extending (bending the wrong way) and causing further damage. If you ever see someone with what looks like diamond shaped rings around a bunch of their finger joints, chances are those are Ring Splints, and are there to keep the finger shaped like a finger. I want to get my hands on some and get some on my hands Very Badly, because my fingers hyper-extend SO MUCH when I type, and it makes my hand pain way way worse.

KT tape is another thing people often use. It’s stretchy tape you put on your skin and it basically functions kinda like a second ligament as well as reinforcing the joint and keeping the bones mostly where they’re supposed to be. The problem with this is a lot of people with EDS have very sensitive and fragile skin like I mentioned before, so KT tape can cause allergic reactions, chronic skin irritation, or just straight up take the skin with it when someone goes to remove it. Hence a lot of folks are really careful with it.

Physical Therapy is kinda the best (and only) treatment for joint laxity aside from Very Invasive and sometimes Highly Experimental surgery. It focuses on strengthening the muscles around the joints so they can do the work all those bone ropes made of body glue can’t. The problem is finding a physical therapist that 1) knows what EDS even is, 2) knows you have it, and 3) knows how to treat it without doing stuff that’ll Phucking Hurt You Worse!! Because exercising wrong with EDS can do Permanent Damage!!!

Again most folks use a combination of all of these things, or have next to no access to them b/c healthcare sucks.

Anyway, on to one of my favorite topics, Chronic Pain!! One of the reasons this post took me so long!!!

Chances are if your character has chronic pain as a result of their EDS there are gonna be some things they hate, including stairs, rain, thunderstorms, stairs, hills, uneven terrain, oh and did I mention stairs??? It’s going to vary person to person, but almost everyone I’ve met with pain from EDS has complained about their knees. For me the most debilitating pain is in my fingers and wrists. They’re by far my least stable joints but I use them constantly for stuff like drawing, typing, and sewing.

Because my joint pain is so wide spread, like most people’s with hEDS, it effects every single part of my day to day life. I can’t carry a heavy ceramic plate, open a bottle, or even use my computer without pain. It’s practically impossible for me to get comfortable in any position be it sitting or laying down, and as you can imagine that makes it hard to sleep a lot of the time. Moving too much hurts, but so does sitting still. I’m constantly taking braces on and off or cracking/stretching my joints so they pop back into place and hurt less.

Also being in pain makes everything else That Much Worse. I get tired way faster than I did before my pain was this bad (I had chronic pain for a while before actually realizing it wasn’t normal to not be able to walk down the block without feeling like your foot bones are trying to escape). My sensory issues and anxiety disorder are more easily aggravated because my base level of comfort is way worse. It fucks with my depression. And OH BOY does it make my ADHD worse because being in pain is fucking distracting as hell and makes it harder to make decisions and switch tasks. Also my ADHD often makes my other symptoms worse cause I forget to take my meds, don’t drink enough water, or can’t find my fucking braces because the item eating black-hole that comes with ADHD stole them. The intersection of mental and physical disabilities is probably a rant for another time though, so back to chronic pain.

Does it suck? Yes, undoubtedly. Is this incredibly debilitating? Of course it is, I spent the last several months unable to feed myself without assistance because there was a staircase between my room and the kitchen and I could only manage to climb it once a day. Is it overwhelming? Definitely, I’ve frequently broken down crying from a combination of pain and frustration because I’m having a bad day and there’s no relief to be found. Am I able to predict when it’s going to rain with uncanny accuracy because any change in barometric pressure makes me feel like every bone in my body is trying to kill it’s neighbors? You bet your fucking ass I am!! Does it sometimes make me irritable, angry, and occasionally dismissive of when abled people get cold or a temporary injury because the stuff they’re complaining about is my life every single day and all avenues of treatment and recovery I have could take years and still not entirely solve my issues? Yeah, and while I deserve a little extra patience I also have to be sure to check myself because I don’t want to turn into someone who’s nasty to be around. Do I sometimes need to sleep for 17 hours straight because it’s raining, I have migraine, and I’m in too much pain to be conscious? Yup, sometimes a few days in a row. Does living in constant pain mean I’m unable to do all the things I want to and does that sometimes make me wanna curl up in bed and never leave? Yeah, it happens.

But! And here’s the big important but, that’s not everything! I still write, draw, and talk to my friends!! It might take me a little longer but I get there. I’m still happy and excitable and make the time to write out five page long posts about EDS because it’s something I’m passionate about! My chronic pain doesn’t stop me. I refuse to let it. I never really wanted to go mountain climbing anyway, so I’m perfectly happy being able to make it up and down the six steps in my house, even if sometimes I have to sit and bump down them on my ass, or crawl up them like a cat. Chronic pain isn’t all I am. It isn’t a fate worse than death. It isn’t the only thing your character should talk about (though I do talk about my pain a lot cause I’m a complainer about almost everything). You can have your character be hindered by their pain, realistically they would be. You can have them seek comfort, support, and relief. Other characters can commiserate and be sympathetic, but it doesn’t mean their whole life is going to be one big pity party, that would be incredibly fucking boring. I know I’d be bored out of my mind.

All that said dealing with chronic pain, especially from EDS, is Complicated. Physical Therapy is the gold standard, but like I said before it can be a long and difficult process, and isn’t always accessible. Stabilization methods like I talked about before can help prevent pain, or reduce it by keeping bones mostly where they belong. Heat and cold help joints, relax muscles, and reduce inflammation but keeping them applied is rough and the relief doesn’t always last. Doctors prescribe anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, and sometimes even anti-epileptic medication to help manage pain, but everyone’s mileage with those varies. And I’m not at all qualified to talk in-depth about narcotics or other heavy duty pain-meds, but suffice to say the war on drugs fucked shit up for people that legit need that kind of help BIG TIME.

Now for my closer/bonus rant about EDS and Disability Writing in General!

Everyone always says write what you know, so if you really want to do disabled people justice, get to know disabled people! Make friends with disabled people, get involved with advocacy groups, consume content made by disabled creators both about disability and not! Disabilities are so fucking diverse, even EDS is such a complex disorder, and comes with so many potential co-morbidities, that practically everyone with it has a unique experience. There’s no way I can fully explain everything in a tumblr post. Hell, even if I could talk to you for hours probably couldn’t give you enough info to answer all your questions (especially since I’m still in diagnosis hell :,) ), so talk to a wide range of people with EDS and other disabilities!! I know it sounds like a lot of work but trust me, disabled people are some of the strongest, raddest, coolest, people you will ever meet that it won’t feel like it.

And don’t be afraid either, the fact that EDS and other disabilities are so wildly varied means that you have a little bit of wiggle room with your character’s experience. There’s so little disability rep out their I think people are WAY to scared to try their hand at writing it. So long as your character is a fully developed person in addition to being disabled, you give some logical thought as to how it would affect their life, and you don’t make their disability the butt of any joke it isn’t difficult to avoid ableist writing. PLEASE WRITE MORE DISABLED PEOPLE AND PEOPLE WITH CHRONIC PAIN/CHRONIC ILLNESS!!

Okay that’s it, again sorry it took so long for me to get back to you! My fingers were being little pests about it, and my ADHD (which is honestly more disabling than everything else a lot of the time lmao) was being an asshole! Hope this helps, and feel free to ask me more questions if you need clarification! It might take me a bit but I do love talking about this stuff.

[huttons]

Never Really Was Enough, Pt II

word count: 3.9k

warnings: talk of homophobia, off-screen character death

summary:  When Eva moves to Raleigh, it wasn’t a happy occasion. She needed to get away from her family and moving across the country was the quickest way for her to accomplish that. As she finds her place in Raleigh, she finds a new family with people she never expected to (especially with a certain red-headed hockey player).

authors note: written as part of FandomTrumpsHate for @antoineroussel​ <3

pt. one | ao3 link

~ ~ ~

“You can keep as quiet as you like, but one of these days, someone is going to find you.”

By the time November rolls around, Eva feels like she’s finally settled into Raleigh and can finally think of it as home. It’s a good feeling, one that she wasn’t expecting at first. But work has been going extremely well and she’s got a few friends now.

There still hasn’t been any word from her family, and while it isn’t surprising, it still hurts that they don’t care enough to reach out to her, especially with the holidays coming up. Eva is complaining about this when Sammy brings up the fact that the Canes are doing a Thanksgiving get-together in a couple of weeks.

“I just know that you won’t be going home, and Patrick and I can’t afford to go visit either of our families right now,” Sammy explains. “And don’t offer to pay for anything again. Just because you have the money for it doesn’t mean you need to spend it on us like that.”

“I know, I just want you guys to be happy,” Eva says. “But…if you really think that they would be okay with me coming, then yeah, I’d love to come.”

“Seriously, it’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a ragtag group of people who don’t have anyone else, so you won’t be out of place.”

“In that case, count me in. I was honestly expecting to spend Thanksgiving by myself, so I think I can handle hanging out with y’all.”

“Eva, did you really think that we would have you spend the holidays by yourself?”

Eva shrugs. “I mean, you guys have family, so it’s not like I was expecting for you to hang around here. And it would have sucked, but I wouldn’t have minded too much. I didn’t celebrate with my family too much anyways once I left for university.”

“That’s shitty,” Sammy says, bringing Eva in for a short hug.

“Yeah, but I got used to it, with it just being my brother and I for a while.”

“Well, consider us your new family. You’re going to be stuck with us forever.”

“I guess there’s worse things out there.”

~ ~ ~

Once the holiday party rolls around, Eva has baked what feels like a million different desserts. Sammy had been insistent that she didn’t need to bring anything, but it’s been a long time since Eva has been able to bake for a large group of people. Besides, it helps get her mind off of her nervousness of seeing Dougie again.

It’s not like she has a crush on him, but he’s exactly her type and if they continue to run into each other, then it’s something she has to get figured out. So, she bakes until she’s unsure of how she’s going to be able to transport it all. Surely there’ll be at least a couple of people who’ll be bribed into helping in exchange for extra dessert.

Once Eva arrives at the house that’s hosting the event, she texts Sammy to bring a couple of people to help her. As she looks at the cakes, cookies, and pies she made, Eva is starting to think she’s made it painfully obvious that she’s been stress baking. But she shrugs it off, knowing that they’ll all probably disappear by the end of the night.

“Jesus, how much did you end up baking?” Sammy asks, a bit of shock in her voice.

She looks over to see that Sammy has enlisted Dougie for help, and Eva is really wondering why this has to be the first time she’s seeing him today.

Eva shrugs. “You said there were going to be players here, I figured they could finish it all.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Dougie replies. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to eat everything, even if we shouldn’t.”

“Well, that’s good,” Eva says. “Let’s get going because this might take a couple of trips.”

When the three of them walk into the house, they’re greeted by a small group that’s hanging out in the living room. Within seconds, they’re there to grab the desserts from their hands, taking them to the designated table.

“Wow, where was the offer for help earlier?” Sammy snorts.

“You didn’t tell us what it was for,” one of the guys replies.

Sammy just rolls her eyes, before heading back out to Eva’s car to get the rest of the desserts. Dougie and Eva trail behind her, laughing as they head out.

“So, couldn’t fly back home?” he asks Eva.

“Oh, she could afford it, but she decided she would rather be stuck with us instead,” Sammy interjects, giving Eva an out from having to explain.

“It’s a decision I’m starting to regret greatly,” Eva says flatly.

Dougie lets out one of his infectious laughs as they get to her car. The walk back is quiet and once they’re all back, Eva gets swept up into conversations with some of the office staff that recognize her from the last two events. She’s a little sad she doesn’t get to see much of Dougie, but it’s probably the best if she doesn’t want to fall halfway in love with him.

Before she knows it, Eva is feeling full and tired. The day passes in a blur, but she feels more content than she has in a while. In a way, it almost felt like the holidays with her family, before everything turned out for the worse. As she gets ready to head out, Dougie comes over to say goodbye.

“Sorry we didn’t get to talk much today,” he says apologetically.

“It’s not a big deal, I get that you’re popular around here,” Eva replies jokingly.

“Still, I’d been hoping to talk to you a bit more. I was wondering if you’d feel comfortable exchanging numbers?”

And, well, Eva can’t say no to that. So, she ends up leaving with leftovers that will last for days and a new number in her phone. She isn’t really sure if anything is even going to come of it, but she can’t help but to hope that they’ll at least become friends. When Eva gets home, she flops on her bed and opens up a new message with Dougie.

Debating what to say, she simply texts, I hope you got a chance to try something I made today, I wasn’t expecting people to like them so much lol

Once she sends it, she just whispers, “Why the fuck did I send that ? It sounds like I’m fishing for compliments now.”

Only a few minutes later, he texts back, I think you definitely made enough for me to grab something in time 😉 you did good tho, def worth breaking my meal plan for

Oh that’s good then

Dougie doesn’t reply, and Eva decides she doesn’t want to come off as desperate for attention, so she doesn’t send anything back. Feeling a bit weird about the whole thing, Eva tosses her phone on her nightstand, then pulls up Netflix and falls asleep binge watching tv.

The next week passes by in the same routine that Eva has grown used to. She doesn’t hear much from Dougie, most of their conversations are just her congratulating him on playing well. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, Eva is a little disappointed. When they exchanged numbers, while she wasn’t expecting them to become close, it would have been nice for there to be at least a little substance to their conversations.

“Look, he’s just someone who appreciates talking in person more,” Sammy says when Eva complains about it.

“Is that you hinting that I need to invite him to hang out in person?” Eva asks, scrunching her nose in disdain.

“Hanging out with Dougie isn’t a bad thing. He’s a pretty chill guy and doesn’t expect you to talk all the time. The dude is huge into museums and shit. I know Raleigh isn’t known for having those, but it’s worth going to.”

“Wouldn’t he have already gone to them if he likes them so much?”

“Yeah, but I doubt he’s gone with anyone. Hockey players aren’t much on casually going to museums with their bros.”

“I guess you’re right. And he won’t think this is like…a date or anything, right?”

“No, he’ll just take it as the two of you going to a museum, nothing more. He’ll probably appreciate the company.”

“Fine,” Eva groans.

“Again, if anything happens, I’m taking all of the credit.”

“I really hate you right now.”

“Love you too, Eva.”

~ ~ ~

Dougie seemed ecstatic going to the museum with Eva. He basically confirmed what Sammy has said, that nobody was keen on going to any of the museums with him. So, on a rare Saturday that he has off, Dougie is dragging Eva to the Natural History Museum. He’s excited about the exhibit that they have on display right now, which is something about puzzles.

“So…is it like a history of puzzles?” Eva inquires, as they walk up to the museum.

“No, it’s all about brain games and engaging with the exhibit,” Dougie explains. “It’s all about being hands on.”

“Oh, that should be fun then. No wonder you seem so excited about it,” Eva replies.

“You should be good at them too, since you’re an engineer.”

“Just because I’m an engineer doesn’t make me smarter than anyone else. It’s not my fault society acts like I know more.”

Dougie just laughs. When they get to the ticket office, Dougie buys Eva’s ticket before she can do anything. She just rolls her eyes, and doesn’t say anything until they’re off to the puzzles exhibit.

“I can afford to buy my own ticket, you know. Engineering is lucrative enough for me to be able to buy my own ticket,” Eva says.

“Yeah, but I’m a hockey player, which is even more lucrative.”

“But have you considered that being a hockey player isn’t forever?”

“I’m one right now though, and that’s what matters.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I wanted to hang out with you willingly today,” Eva groans.

Dougie laughs loudly. When they walk into the special exhibit area, they both freeze as they take it in. He was right about it being an interactive puzzle exhibit, but apparently failed to notice that it seemed to be for young kids. Parents were standing around, watching their kids run through the mazes.

“Well, at least you’ll be able to solve them now,” Eva jokes.

“Is that a dig at my intelligence?” Dougie replies, faking offense.

“Maybe,” Eva says, a lip tugging at her lips.

“I’m sorry this was a bust, but do you want to take a look around at the other exhibits?” he asks.

“Sure, sounds good to me.”

And that’s how the two of them spend the rest of the morning looking around. As interesting as it is, Eva is more excited about being able to spend time with Dougie. He’s so much more down-to-earth than she was expecting and Eva feels her crush on him growing larger. While that isn’t what she was hoping for, she supposes there are worse people to have a crush on.

“Are you up for getting lunch together?” Dougie asks as they leave the museum.

“Yeah, if you let me pay for it,” Eva retorts. “Let me spend some of my money.”

“That’s supposed to be my line,” Dougie protests.

“Well, too bad,” she says, smiling widely.

“Fine,” he groans. “I guess I can let you get away with it this time.”

They end up going to a small café only a few blocks away and grab a small table in the corner. Conversation flows easily as they eat their lunch, and Eva finds herself enjoying herself a little too much. Besides Sammy and Patrick, it’s been a long time since she’s found someone she genuinely likes hanging out with. Sure, she hangs out with James and other coworkers on those late nights in the office (or diner), but it’s not the same thing.

“I had a good time,” Dougie says, as he walks Eva back to her car.

“Yeah, me too,” Eva replies. “We should do this again. I’m sure I can hang out during the week, as long as I make it up during the weekend.”

“You don’t have to do that for me,” he says, frowning. “I’m sure I can find some more weekends at some point.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal. I’ve had to come in during weekends before, it’s not an unusual experience.”

“If you’re sure…”

“Dougie, I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t sure.”

“Okay then,” he says, smiling softly.

On Eva’s drive back to her apartment, she feels herself smiling stupidly. She really enjoyed being around Dougie and the thought of them hanging out again warms her heart. When she gets back to her apartment, Eva notices that Dougie has already text his schedule for the next couple of weeks. They manage to find a time for them to get dinner the following Wednesday. No matter what Eva thinks, she keeps saying that it’s not a date.

~ ~ ~

By the time Wednesday rolls around, Eva is freaking out. While she knows that it’s not a date, she still wants to make a good impression. Sammy is teasing her about it, but helps calm her down.

“Look, you said that it’s not a date, so just wear what you would wear if we were getting dinner,” Sammy says.

“Right, of course,” Eva whispers.

This helps her settle on a casual outfit, and Sammy soothes her a little more before heading out. Dougie sends her a text not too much later telling Eva that he’s waiting outside her apartment. When she heads down to the curbside, she looks around, trying to find him. She hears a honk from a car nearby, and sees Dougie waiting inside.

“You know, I didn’t picture you driving a Yaris ,” Eva teases. “It’s smaller than I was expecting.”

Dougie snorts. “You’re not the first person to say that. But it was the only rental they had when I first came here and I got attached to it.”

“Only you would get attached to a car,” Eva jokes.

“Why is it that you always find something to tease me about?”

“Well, it’s not like you make it that hard.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than I am.”

Conversation continues to flow in an easy banter as they head to the restaurant that Dougie had picked out. It’s a small family owned Hawaiian place that has been around for a while, with great recommendations. By the time that they get there, Eva is feeling much more at ease than she had earlier in the evening. Dinner continues in a similar fashion, with small jokes and talking about what Eva does.

“So, I can come to you with computer issues?” Dougie asks.

“I guess I could try,” Eva replies. “But that’s more IT than engineering.”

“Thought I would ask anyways,” he says. “So, uh, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Uh, yeah?” Eva replies, a bit confused.

“So, um, I know that this might seem sudden, but I was wondering if you might want to go on a date sometime?” Dougie asks hopefully.

“Oh, Dougie, I…” Eva starts to say.

“Was I reading this wrong?” he replies, face falling.

“No, no, it’s just…let me explain,” Eva says, sighing. “I’m openly bisexual and while I figure that you probably have no problem with it, because you seem like a great person, but…I know how bad the sports community is about this kind of thing. And while I’m sure things might be fine; I also know that people go digging for things.

“I had a girlfriend back in university and I still have pictures of us on my Instagram together. We’re still good friends and those are still happy memories for me. I don’t want to have to hide that part of me and while I might be overreacting…I need to look out for myself, Dougie,” Eva explains. “So, while this isn’t a no, I do need to think about it. And I need you to think about it too, because if people end up talking about it…”

She feels like she laid herself completely bare, letting Dougie see more than she was planning on. But…Eva thought about this over the last few days, and wants to let her concerns be known. Dougie seems to still be processing the news, taking time to consider everything. She appreciates that he isn’t rushing to an answer.

“While I can’t say that I really get it, because I don’t, I understand why you would be nervous,” Dougie says, measuring his words carefully. “I’ll wait for you, though. I know that we honestly don’t know each other all that well, but I know that you’re worth waiting for.”

“Thank you,” Eva whispers. “It’s a lot to take in, I’m fully aware of that, but it’s something that I’ve been thinking about.”

“Oh, so you’ve been thinking about going on a date with me?” Dougie jokes.

Eva blushes. “Was that not obvious?”

“It’s just nice to get a little bit of validation.”

Eva just rolls her eyes. The rest of dinner continues in a comfortable silence, Dougie obviously processing everything that he was told. It was obviously a lot for Eva to trust him with everything she told him, so he decides to let her set the pace of what happens next. He doesn’t want to push her too much.

“We can still hang out if you want to,” Eva says softly, as they walk back to Dougie’s car.

“Yeah, I would like that, if you don’t mind,” he replies. “Even if we decide dating is off the table, I still want to be your friend.”

Eva smiles at this, and it helps ease her a little bit. Things are comfortable on the drive back to her apartment, and before she heads out, she gives him a tight hug. Once she gets up to the apartment, it feels like it’s only a few minutes later than Sammy is knocking on her door to get all the details.

“He asked me on a date,” Eva says.

“And?” Sammy asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I told him I would think about it. I just…I don’t want to have to hide my sexuality again, that’s why I moved down here to Raleigh. No matter how much I like him, if he can’t handle me not hiding it…I don’t want to date him,” Eva explains. “And I’m honestly not sure if I could handle shitty comments either. Like…I know it’s not all that likely, but there has to be a few people that’ll say something .”

“That’s shitty that you even have to think about that,” Sammy replies, hugging Eva briefly.

Eva shrugs. “It is, but it’s the reality of the situation.”

“Do you want to date him though?”

“Yeah, he seems like a great guy. If we didn’t have to think about all of this, I would have said yes in a heartbeat.”

“Then I think that’s something to remember,” Sammy says. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair, I just wanted all the deets right away.”

Eva snorts. “Thanks for stopping by, I appreciate it.”

“You always have me and Patrick, no matter what.”

Eva gives Sammy another hug before she leaves. Sighing, Eva gets ready for bed and mulls over everything that happened. She wants to say yes, wants to text Dougie about it, but she knows that she has to think about it more seriously now. And so does he, and Eva prepares for the minor heartbreak if he decides that she’s just not worth the trouble. But whatever happens, the end result will be worth it.

The more she thinks about it, she feels like she could handle whatever happens as long as Dougie is okay with it. Having his support would mean a lot to Eva, and as long as things don’t get too bad, she feels like she can handle whatever happens. Besides, it’s not like she’s a player that’s coming out, so things shouldn’t be nearly as bad.

A couple of days pass before Eva gets a text from Dougie that just says, I was wondering if we could meet up to talk about what’s going on?

Yeah, but could we do it at one of our places?

I could come to your apartment. I feel like you’d feel more comfortable there

Oh, yeah, that would actually be nice. Are you free any time tomorrow?

I can come over in the evening, once you get off work? I can bring dinner.

See you then 😊

Time seems to either go too fast or two slow. Eva barely remembers anything that happens at work the next day, and James doesn’t ask if she wants to work late, seeing that she’s a little bit out of it. Once she gets home, Eva paces aimlessly around her apartment, unsure of what to do. When she hears a knock on her door, she practically runs over to open it.

Dougie is standing there, with a bag of takeout. Whatever it is, Eva guesses that it isn’t meal plan approved. But she considers that with the conversation they’re having tonight, a bit of junk food won’t be too bad.

“Uh, come on it,” Eva says, stepping to the side to let him in. “You can set this down in the kitchen.”

Once he’s set down the food, Eva leads him to her living room, and they both take a seat down on the couch. It’s quiet for a moment, neither really knowing what to say. She’s unsure if she wants to go first, since her answer depends on what he’s thinking.

“So, I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” Dougie says. “And I can only imagine how hard it was for you to tell me what you did. You being bi, it’s a big part of who you are, but it’s not going to impact how much I want to date you. I want to date you because you’re an amazing person and that hasn’t changed. I know that it could turn out badly because people are shitty, but…we can figure that all out together. Admittedly, I don’t know what I can do to support you, but whatever that looks like, I’ll be there.”

“Thank you,” Eva whispers. “I’m still a bit scared, it’s hard not to be, but I want to date you. You’re a good person and I feel like things could be good between us.”

“So, you want to date me?”

Eva snorts. “Yeah, I think I could do that.”

Dougie smiles brightly, then it dims a little. “Does this count as our first date?”

“I don’t see why not,” Eva says, shrugging.

“This isn’t how I imagined it going,” Dougie replies, scrunching his nose. “But I guess there’s no time like the present.”

“I admire your positivity.”

Dougie laughs, and Eva smiles brightly. It’s good to hear his laugh again, and Eva gets excited thinking about how she can hear it even more now.

“You know, I think your laugh is my favorite part of you,” Eva says.

“You’re really picking my laugh over my dashing good looks?” Dougie asks, feigning offense.

“Unfortunately,” Eva sighs.

There’s still so much that Eva has yet to tell Dougie, about why she left home and why she’s scared for people to find out about them. But there’ll be time for that in the future, and she doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

[geraltcirilla]

Your latest daisy/sousa gifset ? Gorgeous, is the quote you used from a showrunner chloe or is it like from someone in the fandom also ie agent carter, everyone was white like the two main female characters were right and so was everyone else, and I don't think it had anything to do with the time period there are shows set way before that are 1000% more inclusive like anne with an e or black sails also no lgbtq characters although that's an issue aos had as well

Thank you!! :’) The quote I used is from Maurissa Tancharoen from this interview with Hypable. I’ll go ahead and give you the entire Daisy portion of that interview because it’s filled with gold.

On the romantic side of things, Chloe Bennet (and several of her co-stars) couldn’t be happier with Daisy’s choice of Daniel Sousa as her partner.

“He’s so stable, and so supportive, and so willing, and so understanding of who she is,” Bennet says. “[Daisy needs] that kind of stability in her life, and that support. And I think it doesn’t hurt that he’s a strapping young man!”

“She has become such a kind of a power house, physically,” Bennet continues. “I love that he kind of brings her down to Earth a little bit.”

For Enver Gjokaj, Sousa’s relationship to Daisy’s power was a crucial factor in their developing bond.

“They don’t seem to have a lot of [things] in common,” he notes, “But the fact that he’s attracted to strong women, and that he’s worked with strong women in his past, and that’s who he is — I think that becomes the foundation for a relationship. The fact [that Daisy’s power is] not threatening to him at all, that that’s actually a positive, that… made total sense to me.”

“And [Gjokaj] played it with such a quiet confidence, and just you’re so grounded,” Bennet continues. “Sousa is so grounded in himself, and he’s not threatened by her as an entity and by Quake, and it actually finds it slightly amusing. which I think is really sweet, actually.”

Clark Gregg also expressed a certain relief at Daisy’s choice, which he feels reflects maturity on the part of friend and castmate Bennet.

“One of the things that happens, especially when you do play a character for 200 years as I have… is that the life and art blend together,” he says, noting that it was challenging to repeatedly “watch Chloe/Daisy go through these various things and get her heart broken, and have people die.”

So “to have Enver show up and create — recreate — the new version [of Sousa], dealing with different kinds of stuff, was just cool!” Gregg says. The character’s new incarnation on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. was “tough. Not calling attention to himself. It felt so real, and I love so much what he did, and the way that [he and Chloe] just kind of quietly backed into this thing that everybody has been rooting for. [It’s] such a testament to their work in the chaotic final season, and how lucky we were to get Enver. It’s just facts!”

For their part, showrunners Jeff Bell, Maurissa Tancharoen, and Jed Whedon felt it was critical that their cast of female characters be seen as much more than partners in relationships, regardless of how matters concluded.

“They’ve had relationships [but] we never defined them by that,” says Bell. “But Daisy hasn’t had great luck in the past, bad things that happened or it hasn’t worked out. And so when Enver showed up, it was more than we could have imagined. We’d hoped that they would have chemistry, and the fact that it worked so well was great.”

Bell also observes that even more significant than the romantic developments was Daisy’s re-formation of a new kind of family for herself.

It was important, he says to let Daisy’s sister “Kora come over at the end and [give] Daisy family to continue. So it wasn’t just ‘Now I have a boyfriend!’ It was like she had a new unit. I think that was something that happened organically through the force of the storytelling that was a nice thing that we hadn’t foreseen.”

“The whole drive of Daisy’s character arc was, she was in search for her identity. She was in search for her family and where she came from,” agrees Tancharon. “And what she stumbled upon was new one, and so at the end, it’s very clear that she is actually starting her own little family in space, with the man she loves and her actual sister.”

I really love this interview and I’ve loved EVERY interview the cast has done post-series. I don’t think I’ve ever shipped a couple quite so beloved by every single cast member, even people totally uninvolved like Clarke Gregg and Elizabeth Henstridge. This interview was especially sweet because Maurissa confirmed that Sousa and Daisy are in love, which we all though but it’s nice to get the showrunners backing that.

//

Re: Agent Carter, even when it comes to the female characters Peggy Carter was the only one listed as main cast. Peggy, Jarvis, Jack, Sousa, and Dooley are main cast, Angie, Dottie, and Ana are credited as reoccurring. And Angie was only in s1 (she made a brief cameo in s2 in a dream sequence), and Ana was only in s2. Only Dottie was in both seasons 1 and 2 and she was a villain. So I don’t think I can even give Agent Carter credit for having white women in the show. It’s really bad if you can’t even have white women in your main cast.

Agent Carter had an issue with lack of women, lack of BIPOC cast, and lack of LGBT characters (like you said AOS also has that last issue). The writers of the show actually claimed at the time (because even back then people were calling them out for this) that they were just being “truthful to the time period”, which we all know is a crock of shit. As you said BIPOC and LGBT didn’t suddenly spring into existence in the 2000s and lots of other period piece shows include them as characters. 

Also as I said in my previous post, the writers have this unsettling need to woobify and coddle bigots because “they’re a product of their time” and the writers are constantly justifying their behavior and actions and trying to make them seem sympathetic. 

But not only that, the feminism felt incredibly shallow and performative.

For example, one of the famous “feminist” lines of the show was “I know my worth. Anyone else’s opinion doesn’t really matter.” Peggy said this after Jack Thompson took all the credit for her work and effort in s1. I remember at the time people were livid because that was a terrible message to be sending women and girls. It’s okay if a man steals your work so long as you believe in yourself...? No. Hell no. That’s not how society progresses forward. Peggy should NOT have accepted that outcome and should have FOUGHT Jack to demand he give her her proper credit. But she didn’t. She rolled over and took it, and we as an audience were supposed to applaud her for it.

Another “feminist moment” is when Sousa catches Peggy helping Howard Stark and the SSR think that she’s a terrorist. So after they arrest her they all take turns interviewing her and she calls them out, saying: “I conducted my own investigation because no one listens to me. I got away with it because no one looks at me, because unless I have your reports, your coffee, or your lunch, I’m invisible.” Except this isn’t exactly true. She wasn’t invisible to Sousa and she didn’t get away with it because he literally caught her. Since episode one Sousa was investigating a strange blonde-haired woman with a scar on her right shoulder who he believed was helping Howard Stark. That woman was Peggy. And he actually figured that out in episode 1x05 and tried to arrest in her 1x06. Given that this is only an 8 episode season Sousa knew about Peggy for almost half the season, but was hunting her for technically the whole season. How is that you being invisible? How is that you getting away with it? How?? 

Peggy continues and says: “You think you know me, but I've never been more than what each of you has created. [At Dooley] To you, I'm the stray kitten, left on your doorstep to be protected. [At Jack] The secretary turned damsel in distress. [At Sousa] The girl on the pedestal, transformed into some daft whore." This statement was also weird as fuck to me because Sousa never thought she was a whore, never called her a whore, and never accused her of being a whore, etc. When the SSR found out Peggy was helping Howard Stark they were trying to figure out why she would do it. A working theory was she was in love with him (a fair theory given Howard’s a bit of a womanizer and actually has hit on Peggy in the past). So Sousa (along with literally everyone else interviewing her) accused her of having an affair with Howard. But somehow only Sousa received that scalding drag, when technically it was true of everyone. Also how was he viewing her on a pedestal when he called her out all the time (during their “quirky banter”) and once again, investigated her for terrorism. Some pedestal huh. (This quote actually bugs me a lot because some people to this day will reference it as a reason to hate Sousa - “He was obsessed with her and then when he thought she was with Howard he called her a whore!” That never happened, that’s Peggy’s false version of events. I have eyes and a working brain and I watched the season myself and it’s simply untrue.)

Peggy will just say stuff that sound Cool and Empowering but if you break it down and analyze it, make no sense and mean absolutely nothing. It’s just cringey.

And let’s not even get in to the ableist implications of Peggy fantasizing about Sousa suddenly having two legs and being able to walk perfectly. That was her romantic vision of him. A version that could not only walk, but dance. Who throws aside his cane like it was just an accessory. Okay.

I really did not like Agent Carter at all (problematic stuff aside the actual plot sucked) but I watched the whole thing because I was a fan of Peggy Carter and Jarvis and I really wanted to make it work. When it was cancelled I didn’t cry about it, I was actually relieved I wouldn’t have to watch a third season. That show was just such a cringey, embarrassing mess.

Sorry for the long rant about it. It’s been a long time since I talked about this show and it still bothers me to this day because people reflect on the show so fondly and are still making petitions to bring it back as if it’s wasn’t a heaping mess.

Thank God Sousa was saved from that show. lol

Disclaimer to anyone reading this: Me hating the Agenter Carter show is not me hating Peggy Carter. Obviously I love my mans Sousa, and I also love Jarvis and Angie. I loved a lot of the characters and my issues with the show has to do with the showrunners and the writing.

[mitterstorm]

Dance For Me

Chapter 2

*Thump*

 *Thump*

*Thump*

 Your heart beats faster.

 *Tu-tump*

 *Tu-tump*

 The footsteps of whatever is coming are getting louder and louder, maybe its the echo messing with your auditory perception. Whatever or whoever is making all that racket isn’t friendly; good thing you didn’t explore any further.

 <<The exit it’s not far away, just a few feet more and I’ll be safe>>

 You feel as a character of a scary movie: the last survivor or who dies at the end. What startles you the most is that it fits your current predicament.

Abandoned studio, old pal of my dead friend, mysterious letter, unexpected meet up, the idiot travels alone and enters the damn place with nothing more than her phone with no calls at her disposition. The icing of the cake? There’s probably a monster that’ll kill her if it lays eyes on a living being, which in this case just happens to be you.

Yay.

 <<Well fuck me, I won’t stay long to let it rip me to shreds>>

 You run faster at the sight of the door, raising your knees a little bit higher and putting more pressure in your tiptoes, it’ll hurt you later, however, these burst of adrenaline won’t let you feel it right away.

 *Tu-tump*

 You sweat drop with the increasing tumult, bust of wood and cracks in the walls, strong force and velocity are being used to create such destruction, you are already picturing the debris that will come out of these place.

 *Whomp!*

 Shit.

You finally reach the door!

 <<Now get out!>>

 You never thought opening a door would be such a hard task until now, under pressure and with a beast on your heels it feels like you were tied and the lock is coated with oil, fortunately for you it only took you two seconds and in five you were out of Joey’s Studio.

 Or that’s what you thought.

 You crash onto something and a sudden pain attacks your head and forehead, the impact knocks you down to the wooden ink-stained floor, with a bit of struggle you look up to see a fake paperboard background.

 Wait..what?!

 Before you can move something grabs your legs, then you feel another grip on your arms. Looking sideways you catch sight of hands.

“Let go let go! Let go of me!” You struggle trying to free yourself all in vain, when a final pair of hands clutches your hips and your waist you feel a pull, in the process you hit your head again, slipping away of it all.

A bunch of inky hands swallow you down, wrecking the wooden floor into pieces, slowly you are dragged down.

Silent snickers echo around, three little devils watching you descend into your demise.

What did you expect? You are in a toon studio, you shouldn’t have expected less!

It sure it’s cruel how our minds can be tricked so easily, you were fooled by them.

 You’ll be their new toy.

 Well, that is until he decides what to do with you, but surely you’ll be given. After all, the creatures that lurk around the studio are sure to tear you into shreds.

 They all despise humans.

 Especially the Ink Demon.

 “Alright, Joey. I’m here. Let’s see if we can find what you wanted me to see.”

The male made his way through the old workshop and felt himself going down memory lane, caught in the past with souvenirs from back on those days were the animation studio offered hopes and dreams to dreamers like him who envisioned their own fantasy world inside a blissful abode holding unlimited possibilities.

Echos of the creaking wooden floor with each step he took his wondering gaze taking every detail he could as if it was the first time.

He found another reminder of his prime.

“Hey, here’s my old desk. I’ve wasted so much time in this chair.”

Admiring the piece of carpentry before him slowly running his fingers down the material, then he walked away and gawked at the sight, his past workplace went by some renovations.

“Looks like they knocked out a wall or two after I left. Guess it took a few people to replace me.”

After admiring the view he went inside another room and found an old projector with a film tape still on running smoothly but it was blank, no images nor animations being shown, he turn it off.

Leaving the room he walked off into a new one passing a signboard that had written ‘Art Department’, ‘Ink Machine’, ‘Theater’ and ‘Break Room’. He glared at the wall suspiciously reading out-loud the following:

“’Dreams Come True’.” Not giving much thought into it and following swift along the corridor, he started hearing music coming from a room, curious he opened the door and turned off the radio emitting the catchy tune.

He kept walking and took a turn on the right then another and what he found took his breath away, he let out a whistle amazed by the machinery in front of him because what he sees excites him.

These man had no fear for the unknown and instead of escaping he approaches it, intrigued he went along with it.

“This lift could use a few dry cells.”

Unbeknownst to him, he was going to set free a greater evil.

His little devil darling will arise from the depths of the Ink Machine and he won’t receive the Creator with open arms, instead he’ll place his hands on his neck.

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

Two hours passed until you finally start regaining consciousness, you groan in pain, feeling the throbbing of your head and the ache in other parts of your body. Her back is bruised for sure and her right hand burns horribly.

“Ng......f-fu..ck..”

Talking hurts just like breathing does, it requires a lot of effort from you.

<<How am I alive? These agony justifies it...what happened up there? All I remember is hitting something...something hard..paperboard I think>>

Carefully she tries to move her left arm and hand, touching the floor below her. Wood and old at that. She’s still at the studio, she knew it was stupid to think otherwise, but she kept hoping for it to be differently. Coming here was a bad idea, now she knows that, even thought it makes her feel incredibly stupid, but who cares.

<<I need to get out of here or at least try>>

“You won’t go anywhere injured, you dumb bitch” She said to herself, her voice weak like a whisper. First she has to get up and look for something to patch her up or at least lean on like a cane, she ain’t stupid, she knows she’ll walk limping and that won’t help with her current predicament.

<<Here I go>>

Groaning she tries to get up or at the very least sit up, straining her back and legs by forcing them to lift her, she slips from one side when she tries to use her hands, hissing in pain she takes a look only to realize until now the state of her right hand.

<<How is it that I didn’t notice for fucks sake!>>

It must have occurred when the wooden planks snapped. A huge piece of wood broke through her hand’s skin, exactly in her life line; shock travels rapidly inside of her at the sight of the injury, her breath hitches a little when she unconsciously tries to lean on it again. Dried old blood and a bit of new blood were oozing out of the wound, the wooden stick proved to help retaining as much as it could, however with the pressure she applied trying to stand up, well it was starting to come out a little.

Fuck, she’s fucked if that gets infected and it’ll be one help of a pain when she takes it out.

“These sucks..agh..”

Now she has to get going, doesn’t matter how much it hurts, as long as she doesn’t hurt herself any further she’ll be okay. Probably.

<<I’m grateful for knowing a bit of this stuff, it’ll be useful right now>>

True, she ain’t a doctor, but she’s a nurse and knows a bit by seeing her colleagues (who are doctors) treat injuries and all that jazz, obviously she isn’t capable nor authorized of partaking in a surgery, but you know stuff thanks to being observant and curious.

You cry out in pain when you try getting up again, using one arm and securely folding your right arm on your abdomen, you only get as far as to lift your upper body and one of your knees bending. You unbutton a little bit your shirt to look at yourself.

Some scratches and a bruise near your ribs (fortunately no broken bones, not counting the metacarpals of your hand). You want to see your back, it should be covered in bruises and scratches or maybe something bigger than that, since it stings a lot.

*Huff*

Breathing it’s more difficult in this position, you have to stand up now.

<<Besides who knows if what attacked me is still around here>>

Groaning louder you push yourself until you are up, leaning on a wall, not trusting your strength or balance.

Limping, you start walking through the studio. You hate yourself for coming here, sure your clothes may be all dark, but ink stains aren’t welcome because of it and all the ink makes it difficult for you to move. There’s a lot of ink, but not enough to drown you, it doesn’t reach your knees and there are some clean spaces where the dark liquid doesn’t follow.

“..the electrical system is practically useless, it’s too dark...” You say to no one in particular.  

It’s a miracle the building is still standing after all these years, obviously these walls have been neglected after that accident, nonetheless, the place could be of use to someone else who has the money to make all the repairs and maintenance it deserves.

You weren’t avail to explore the first floor ‘cus you know...this happened, besides some pipes broke (probably the whole pipeline system needs fixing) and if the floor was stained then all the files and artwork should be in similar or worse conditions.

<<Did Henry leave with all of his work or he left some behind? I would have loved to see some of he’s old work..maybe he made some progress after all these time...>>

You hiss in pain, your back hurts and you have a headache, there’s no chance you’ll find some aspirins or whatever, maybe some bandages or even an old cloth to cover the wound.

<<That thing is down here and I don’t want an encounter when I’m in these state: injured and sick. I’ll have to keep going, at least until I mend the wound>>

Time to man up then, be a badass bitch and endure the pain.

After a few minutes you take notice of something.

<<This path has been cleared>>

You confirmed it when you walked down the stairs (you nearly fall and you were scared shitless when you saw practically all the room was flooded with ink) and found a valve, you did the following and turned it. Subsequently the room started to clear itself and you were able to pass through it easier.

Now you know that-

Was someone else here?

<<I mean Joey should be here, but I don’t know anymore, maybe I was right and he send that letter years ago>>

Yes, however, there’s something you are missing.

Why is it open?

The entrance wasn’t locked, no key sealing it away and that growl you heard. Who or what exactly lives here?

“I have to leave and quickly, I don’t want to find out.”

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

Bendy’s POV

The devil’s smile still intact and genuine now, he couldn’t help but smirk when the human fell into his trap. He wasn’t using his beast form anymore and was avail to stalk them from afar (of course, he used one of his portals so he could get there faster), it was a good idea to summon those three fellows.

Even thought years have passed there are still some things left from the ol’ days, that fake paperboard background was possible because of cartoon logic, it didn’t matter if the Butcher Gang wasn’t the same, corrupted by the ink. It was irrelevant, they were still part of the spectrum.

Piper, Fisher and Striker were trembling once they spotted him, these fear of them only serve to feed his sadistic side.

He’s able to smell their fear, since they are made of ink sweat is not a way for him perceive it, no, the key it’s the ink. Depending on the consistency he’s able to differentiate various emotions. Similar to physical and chemical reactions of a human body, it can’t compare to the real thing, however it comes in handy for him.

Thanks to his ability, he can read those around him even better (thick ink is a sign of nervousness and fear, thin or boiling ink means anger, frustration and aggressiveness, slimy or jelly-like consistency means sickness or sadness, last runny means either normal or strong emotions similar to excitement or sadistic tendencies such as his) and it helps him with his lack of sight. The tar-like liquid that covers his pie-cutted eyes acts like wax, once fluid and with time it hardens. He can’t remove it at will and he tried scratching it with his claws, it hurt him horribly, he fell unconscious that day.

Ugh, just remembering makes him want to end that musicians life immediately, however, he has to wait. Lawrence is still of use to him.

<<No time for that, I have to keep these three at line>>

The demon snarled at the trio, they didn’t need to be said twice, they banished in seconds leaving behind ink splotches.

<<Good, they need to know who’s in charge around here, I don’t need them turning themselves against me>>

Of course, those lackeys helped him just in time to trap them on the lower levels. Him being one of the top dogs inside the studio (he shares part of it with Alice to keep her at bay, as long as she doesn’t interfere the truce stands) has another skill only he possess. He’s capable of controlling the ink to his desire; those hands and arms that pulled you down? It was him, not the Lost One’s.

Approaching smugly towards the hole on the floor he jumped down, landing graciously on the ground and immediately searched around the room, soon he found what he was looking for: the girl. He couldn’t see her, but could feel her. How you may ask, another gift, but he is not the only one able to use it, all ink creatures have it, the answer is ink.

Think of it as a tether, a connection or bond between the source and its off-springs. What separates them from normal ink is their conscious, their minds.

<<Joey said something similar to me once...what differentiates them from animals is their ability to think..even thought they don’t show it>>

Until Henry that is, the Inkarnate knew his creator Joey Drew was a man of science who dreamed walking on the red carpet, ambitious and headstrong, besides him other...individuals never truly showed any brains, so when he met Henry it changed his view on humans (not completely, but a little it’s already too much if you know how Bendy is).

He knows the girl won’t have many problems traversing through his home, Henry cleared the majority of the pathways and left a mess at some levels. Stein proved to be entertaining for him, not an easy prey like other inhabitants that were trapped by the ink, he hunted each and every last of them, their fates worse than death.

If he was bored and in the mood some were tortured, he experimented with them diverse methods to inflict pain and traumatize them.

Boredom it’s Eternity’s enemy, that’s what he believes at least. Not that he’s complaining, he has no desire to end his life, yet.

It would be a lie if he said the idea never popped on his mind, the demon isn’t suicidal, however his domain tends to be rather grim. Hollow would be an accurate description for the living here, insanity plays a big part too, it feeds the flame of vengeance inside him.

That little detail can be seen as a disadvantage too, hysteria brings such brutal ideas as suicide and ways to do so, it should be morbid for him feel excitement by holding those thoughts. But it isn’t.

He’s grateful, after years condemned of humdrum there’s some thrill for him.

Eerily watching how the woman’s chest went up and down, he took a look at the room and absorbed some of the ink, no he wasn’t trying to save her, no, just delaying fate.

"ﾚ乇ｲ'丂 丂乇乇 んのW ﾚの刀ム ｲん乇丂乇 の刀乇 ﾚﾑ丂ｲ丂."

Giving another glance to the female beneath him he noticed her injury.

<<That dog will find her, it’ll help them, just like Henry>>

There’s no need to worry, he’ll make it last as longs as he needs to, once he appeases his dullness they’ll be gone.

<<Alice has to know, the others too, especially Lawrence. I have to make it clear, those too disobey me, Samuel rarely does it, but when he does...I can’t believe he’s that foolish>>

Normally the devil let’s them do as they please with intruders, that was in the past, he grew bored and those lunatics never left something for him, they were too simple-minded for him. They didn’t enjoy the hunt or torment them until it breaks beyond repair.

He learned to savour his kills.

Although he can’t always relish their distress, those are dark days plagued by migraines, screams brought him suffering instead of pleasure. When the voices got too loud for him, weakening his self and succumbing into the abyss...

He dwells too much.

Time to change that.

Smiling in glee he opened another portal, shuffling at his own pace towards it, every time he set a foot in one it reminded him before his sentience.

Like a never ending cascade.

Too bad he couldn’t enjoy it anymore.

“I thought we had an agreement, name your business and leave.” Said automatically the witch while working on her stupid beauty products.

He’s not oblivious, the madwoman has been sacrificing a big bunch of their lot to fix her ugliness. Because of his abhor and apathy concerning the flunked angel he didn’t interfere, it kept her busy and in line, besides...who was he to judge? Obviously he’s the law, and overseer, the boss. However, he can’t fault them for their tainted nature.

"W乇 んﾑ√乇 ﾑ √ﾉ丂ﾉｲの尺." Its always like these with the Angel, he knows every inch of her like no one else, despite their hateful relationship it once held passion. The Demon possess so much knowledge about her: what makes her tick, what brings her euphoria, how to bath her in glee and ecstasy, why she’s so selfish, etc.

She’ll never admit it, but she still likes how he shows dominance, like now that he has her trapped, in a matter of seconds he had her pinned to a wall, looking down at her while she looks up to him, she was suppressing down her smile by replacing it with a scowl.

<<You don’t want me to know? Still prideful then>>

He feels a bit of disgust by being so near, but he can’t deny his want, they always felt this attraction to each other, since they were supposed to be a romantic couple in the show.

“Yes, I heard the racquet, what about it?” She crossed her arms faking anger at his interruption, however, the tether told him otherwise.

-Runny and rushed-

“Don’t be too rough with them.” As if he was burning her the Angel pushed him away, good thing he couldn’t see her if he has the ability then he would be aware of the slight trickling from Alice’s left side of her face were hideousness its more apparent, by-product of her imperfection.

Bendy knows this because she was like that before he lost his sight, yet he didn’t care, what’s on the outside won’t change what she’s on the inside, after all, they are monsters. Susie happens to be one of them, back in the days when she was a beauty her interior carried a decaying putrid soul, many were believed the lies assembled for them, luring those who once possessed such naivety.

The gal showed her discontent towards him by screaming.

“Why?! I thought we were done! There are no creators left and all the employees have been corrupted by the ink, you made that happen! So what’s left?!” Ah yes, screeching, another reason for their ‘break up’, he couldn’t take her moodiness and when she yelled at him? Ugh, he considered several times ending his suffering and tried shutting her up until his patience ran thin and he relied on violence.

Like now.

The hellish creature it’s choking the fallen angel, baring his teeth at her, a guttural sound coming from him. She expected this and already had her hands trying to loosen his grip, spitting venom from her eyes.

“It does not matter. Do as I say, I don’t want you nor any of your pets to kill them! Not yet at least.” He tighten up a little bit more his grasp on her, he feels a clot forming in her throat, their bodies are different from humans, but ink its their whole being. Blood, tissue, muscle, organs, veins, etc. He could get a feel of how her normal ink pressure is centered were his hands are strangling her.

If she was human his sensitive senses would give him the satisfaction of perceiving how her blood runs through her veins, her slowed down pulse and her hitched breath trapped on her longs trying to get in and out seeking more oxygen, until she starts coughing while trembling at the verge of death and he would-

“F-Fi-ne.”

He woke up from his delirium maelstrom, soon he released her and could only hear her desperate gasps for air (not that she needs it), cautious she rubs her neck and then expectantly looks up at him.

“Good.”

The little devil left her alone and carried on with his duty, now he’s missing Lawrence.

He wonders what his little admirer could be doing.  

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

Sammy’s POV

The maestro was attending his most precious possessions, what kept an ounce of sanity alive in him are his instruments, it’s unfair he’s not well stocked with supplies to restore them back to their glory, four decades ago they still held divine graciousness.

Unlike his soul what he created was pure not carrying any of his sins and embraced all his passion for what he did: music. Innovative melodies no one had heard before that came from the bottom of his heart and mind, his whole life recorded on simple notes he calls reflections.

Ah yes, his darker dreams transformed in golden faded mist were he gives his life a twirl. Dangerous emotions as the likes of anger, frustration, depression and loneliness banish in a second when his fingers travel along those riches.

He was cleaning them when he heard an uproar.

“Oh? What pray my Lord be the problem?” It’s unusual for his master to cause such ruckus, did something happened? Why wasn’t he informed? He’s supposed to know all the whereabouts of these place to keep it’s ruler safe!

Swiftly he set down the banjo and made his way through a satanic circle and went searching for the reason of his Lord’s discontent.

<<Maybe another tender sheep is trapped inside these hellhole>>

Soon he found what he’s been looking for.

You.

He just didn’t expect you to be so...breathtaking.

A limping beauty before him in the open,defenseless. The Prophet never found his master, instead he stumbled into a besom. Is it a gift from his savior? Did the devil accepted his apologies?!

How he envisioned that day! After that black sheep came to Bendy’s kingdom he gave him the cold shoulder, he even tried to murder him when he was only showing how grateful he is for all he has done for him. He didn’t understand..but he would never let past mistakes repeat themselves, he’ll change whatever brought displeasure to the boss.

For the better.

If he has been blessed as he believes then he’ll accept the Inkarnate’s present and treasure it just like his valuable instruments.

But if he’s wrong and the human is not a signal from the Dark One then he must continue with his duty as a guardian.

The old music director knows his ways and stalks you inside the ink, keeping himself hidden from you and in a short time he takes notice of your physical state.

He worries that if you are his then it’s his responsibility to aid your graciousness with how fragile you look Lawrence can’t stop the scenarios that play in his head, he’ll tend to your needs and nurse you back to health while protecting what’s his, teaching them what they’ll require to stay in here adoring their king.

And he won’t lie, fantasizing with a noble charmer like yourself...well, the liquid that keeps him alive runs faster than before, it excites him greatly.

Captivated he follows the Lamb he found without her noticing he’s even there.

Something he takes pride on.

His time will come, eventually he’ll have the pleasure of meeting you.

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

It keeps disturbing you looking at the big ass stick inside your hand protruding noticeably, but it helps as a constant reminder of being careful so you don’t bury it more, if you did it would cause serious damage.

That’s why you still have the piece of wood puncturing your hand, it wouldn’t have been a problem if the stick wasn’t that big or that far into you, hypothetically that were the case then you would have already taken it out and clean it with some water, soap or alcohol while covering the wound with a piece of your attire.

Your problem is the infection, whether you can prevent it or not is an issue and you don’t know where to find any alcohol to maintain around the wound clean, even if you somehow manage to do so it wouldn’t change anything because you are still running the risk of dying from gangrene.

<<I have to options get the fuck out of here or look for help>>

And no you can’t call 911, the impact destroyed your cellphone, you couldn’t even pick up the broken pieces of the screen because your back hurt too much and crouching made breathing a harder task. So as you can see your options are limited, besides you can’t even draw out the thing because you don’t have enough strength to do so with one hand.

You grunt in pain and irritation by remembering that little detail, you life is on the line and you don’t know exactly how much time you have left until the injury gets infected.

“I need to hurry.”

<<I can’t believe my luck, really, like this whole place has a serious leaking problem and Mr.Drew should get all the pipeline system checked. I haven’t passed a place without a splotch of ink or where the walls aren’t dripping ink! I don’t want to imagine a worse scenario than this for myself, injured, no communication or way to get help, no medical supplies and I’m risking my life by being out in the open because there’s a possibility a bloodthirsty monster is on the lookout for me!>>

Finally you reach a room with what appears to be a desk with a toolbox and a mug, there’s nothing else or that’s what you think until you notice a perplexing message written on the wall beside the desk.

“’The Creator Lied To Us’..what’s that supposed to mean?” You ask to no one after reading the message out-loud.

<<Is these about that article? Who wrote this?>>

Your theory is that one of Joey’s workers came back to the studio and vandalized the wall, that’s the more logical explanation you can think of.

<<After all they were overworked and abused, I would have done the same if I had the guts to do so>>

You didn’t put much thought into it and carried on with your task, another detail that comes to your awareness are some wooden planks blocking what appears to be an entry to a new part of the studio, however, finally a stroke of luck is given to you and you are still able to pass through them with no complications.

Slowly you walk across the corridor squinting your eyes at the little light that offered the room, scared of tripping over she lift her legs in order to not fall with one of the wooden planks trying to block her way, she feels scared and alone.

<<Never thought I would develop a fear of the dark at my adulthood>>

She reached a door, hesitant she drew her hand closer to the doorknob and with her shaken good hand she opens it a weak, fearful gasp leaves her.

“Wh-What’s...this?” Horrified she takes a step forward. Maybe her mind is playing games with her or her eyes are deceiving her perception of reality “I-it...it can’t......it can’t be!” A silent scream resides her inner walls.  

<<Am I really seeing this?>>

What appears to be a satanic circle drawn on the floor with black ink, candles adorning each side of the pentagon and two coffins near it.

You step into the it, just at the edge to look at it closer, but as your foot lands inside it you start feeling dizzy and fall into a deep slumber.

Old jumbled memories have been revealed once again.

 A machine.

 One wheelchair.

 Dark silhouette.

 ...what does it all mean?

 Madness. All went to hell thanks to Mr. Drew’s mindset, egocentric and greedy as many others. He used all the resources that were at his disposition: money, cleverness, social skills, manipulation, machinery and people. He took it all for his own desires, overriding any morals he had, if he even had them to begin with.

He doomed them all, himself counted. Crossing paths with death served him right, he died bearing resentment for never being able to accomplish his dream. Immortality. His decaying for made it evident, he needed a wheelchair because of how weak his body had become.

Too weak to fight back.

His own creations slaughter him. Buried deep in ink.

[omnivorousshipper]

12 Days of Shobbs: Day Four- Candy Canes

Summary: This is a serious of prompts following the relationship between Luke Hobbs and Deckard Shaw through the twelve days of Christmas.

Day 3       Day 5

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… 

Luke was inspecting his guns and carefully placing them into his bag in preparation for the team’s next mission. All around him, he could hear the others grabbing their own gear, a quiet buzz of background noise as he focused on his own task. He was strapping on his bullet-proof vest when he heard loud footsteps. Looking up, Luke saw Roman stomping towards him, huffing and puffing like a pissed off bull.

“How are you so comfortable with him being here?” He demanded and jerked his head towards two people standing on the other side of the room.

“Are you talking about Shaw?” Luke asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hell yes I mean Shaw!” “What’s your problem? Just the other day, he helped you put new tires on your car.”

“Not that Shaw! The other one!” Roman practically shouted, and harshly pointed at Owen Shaw, who looked to be annoying the crap out of Deckard. 

“Oh, that one! Why didn’t you say so?” Luke teased.

“You know for damn sure I wasn’t talking about Deckard,” Roman fumed. “Why are we all acting as if he won’t turn on us the second he can?”

“Why? Think he’s going to stab you with a candy cane?” Luke asked.

“What?” Roman asked incredulously. Nodding his head towards the brothers, Luke watched as Owen forced Deckard to take several candy canes, and then put the rest in his own bag. “Why does he have those?”

“Sweet tooth apparently,” Luke shrugged and turned back to his own bag, trying to finish his own preparations.

“But how can you trust him?” Roman demanded once again. Luke didn’t bother to hide his eye roll. 

“Roman,” Luke said slowly. “Do you have any siblings?” “Yeah, an older sister,” he answered, confused.

“And as kids, did your sister keep you in line?” “Well, yeah. She’s scary as hell, man.”

“Then just apply the same logic to Owen,” Luke explained. “I don’t trust Owen, but I do trust that Deckard will beat his ass if he tries something funny.”

“I don’t know, man,” Roman said with uncertainty. “Do you really trust Deckard that much?”

“Honestly, Roman,” Luke answered. “I’d trust Deckard with my life. And I have-- several times.”

“Huh,” Roman said simply before giving Luke a nod and walking away.

Shaking his head at Roman’s theatrics, Luke turned back to his bag and placed one last gun in it. 

~~~

“Can anyone copy?! Hello?!” Luke yelled into his com, hoping against hope that it wasn’t broken. Nothing but static came through. “Damn it!”

Luke couldn’t believe how bad his luck had gotten. As soon as the team had landed at the abandoned military base, they found out that it wasn’t as abandoned as they had expected. There was a small army inside and taking full advantage of the extra weapons still left at the base. The team had to split up or risk being taken down.

Now, he was stuck behind a pillar in some sort of courtyard, chaos coming from almost every angle. He could hear shouting mixed with gunshots, and not too far away, Luke swore he could hear small explosions followed by manic laughing. Ignoring the possible psychopath in the base, Luke focused on finding anyone else. Peeking out from his cover, Luke saw an opening: several of his assailants had run off towards where the explosions were coming from, leaving only a handful left to deal with Luke. Looks like his luck was finally coming back.

Easily shooting half of them from behind his pillar, Luke was able to roll to another, and take down the other half. The whole maneuver only took a minute, but it left Luke breathing hard. He had been taking these guys out for the last half hour, but he didn’t seem to be getting any closer to finding any of his teammates. 

Letting out a breath of frustration, Luke stood up and decided to take one of the passageways back into the main base. He was slightly crouched, gun held in both hands as he crept along the dark hallway, approaching where the earlier explosions were occurring.

“Three guesses as to who that could be,” Luke whispered to himself. 

Ahead of him, he could see a sharp corner with sunlight coming from it, indicating that he was probably going to enter another courtyard. Slowly approaching the corner, he could hear shouting followed by shooting. Coming to a stop at the corner, Luke pressed his back against the wall, gun poised to shoot whoever was about to come around the corner. Suddenly, everything was quiet, causing Luke to tense. 

Quiet only meant someone had won the fight, and Luke wasn’t sure if the victor was enemy or foe. And seemed like he was going to get an answer because he heard someone running towards his hiding spot. Counting the seconds, Luke whipped out from around the corner, gun pointed directly at Deckard Shaw.

Luke’s breath caught as he took the other man in. Deckard was breathing hard and flushed from the fight he had just come from. His eyes were bright as he stared back at Luke, almost like a deer caught in headlights. His clothes were disheveled, completing Deckard’s entire ensemble of being a mess. Behind him, sunlight was pouring in and creating a halo around him and illuminating every single bit of dust and rubble that covered him.

And in that moment, Luke only had one thought going through his mind:

He’s absolutely beautiful.

Even though Luke felt like he had been staring at Deckard for hours, in reality he had only done so for a few seconds. He would have gladly stayed there and actually stared for a few hours, if not for Deckard jerking forward and jumping on Luke.

“What…?” Luke started, but then screamed in pain as he felt something sharp stab into the arm holding his gun. “Fuck!”

He was able to push Deckard off of him, but kept his gun pointed downwards. Luke clutched the wound, feeling blood swelling under his fingers. 

“What the hell, Shaw?!” Luke angrily shouted. 

“Hobbs?” Deckard sounded shocked. He was standing a few feet away, clutching his weapon in his hand, staring at Luke in confusion. Luke glared back before his eyes wandered down to what Deckard was holding.

“Did you really stab me with a candy cane?” And Luke would later deny it, but his voice cracked when he nearly screeched the question at Deckard.

Deckard blinked at the shrill noise, and looked down at the candy cane dripping blood that he still had clenched in his hand. Sheepishly, he gave Luke a small smile.

“Maybe?”

“Only you, Deckard Shaw. Only you,” Luke huffed in exhaustion and astonishment. The man really knew how to utilize everything as a weapon. 

“Sorry. Didn’t recognize you in the shadows,” Deckard apologize. Hesitantly, he took a step towards Luke. “Is it bad?”

Lifting his hand, Luke could see that blood was definitely coming from the wound, but not as much compared to stab wounds he had received in the past. “Could be worst.”

“Come here,” Deckard commanded, drawing out bandages from his pack. Deciding Deckard wasn’t going to attack him again, Luke stepped closer, holstered his gun and offered up his injured arm. Quickly and efficiently, Deckard had Luke’s arm bandaged. “That’ll have to do until we get out of here and clean it up.”

“Thanks,” Luke said, looking down at Deckard, who was still holding his arm, inspecting his handiwork. “I’m not going to get an infection from a candy cane, am I?”

“Doubt it, but you never know,” Deckard smirked. Letting go of Luke’s arm, he shifted his pack on his back and walked past Luke. “You comin’ or not, twinkletoes?”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Princess.”

~~~

Heavily, Luke sat down on one of the benches on the airplane taking them back to Mr. Nobody’s facility. His head fell against the metal of the plane, all of his energy gone from the mission.

After Luke had met up with Deckard, they had quickly found the others, but they still had to fight tooth and nail to get out of the base. They had all gotten out relatively safe and with no major injuries. Which was a success in itself, but all Luke wanted to do now was sleep.

“Hey,” a voice called to him softly. Luke opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them, and saw Deckard standing in front of him, a med kit in his hands. “Want me to take a look at my handiwork?”

Letting out a snort of amusement, Luke offered up his arm without any resistance. If  Deckard wanted to play nurse, Luke wasn’t going to stop him. 

Quietly, Deckard sat down next to him and started to work on the wound. A comfortable silence descended on them as Luke watched Deckard work. His hands were confident in their movements as he cleaned the wound to reveal four small holes in Luke’s arm.

“How the hell did you manage that with a candy cane?” He muttered.

“If you lick it long enough, candy canes can become as sharp as knives,” Deckard smirked up at Luke. 

“That’s absolutely terrifying and insane. I hope you know that,” Luke stated, squinting at Deckard.

“Don’t worry. I only use them around Christmas,” Deckard assured him. “Now does that hurt?”

He had tied off the bandage and carefully holding onto Luke’s wrist, waiting for confirmation. 

“A little bit,” Luke answered and flexed his arm. He felt a twinge of pain, but knew the wound wasn’t deep enough to need stitches and would heal smoothly. “Could you kiss it and make it better?”

Deckard’s face turned bright red as he glared at Luke and dropped his arm. “Would you knock it off with the whole kiss thing?”

“Maybe if you stopped injuring me, I would.” Luke gave a toothy grin. 

“Well, I ain’t doin’ it this time, so suck it up.”

“But your kiss made me heal faster last time,” Luke whined.

“Go to hell, you bollocks for brains imbecile,” Deckard snapped. However, his voice didn’t hold as much bite as it once had in the past. And Luke could see that Deckard’s cheeks had gone even redder at his last comment. “Don’t know why you keep talking about me kissing you.”

“Maybe I like your kisses,” Luke said casually, but on the inside he was nervously watching Deckard’s response.

“I… I,” Deckard stuttered as he did an impressive impression of a gaping fish. 

“Oi, Deck!”

Both men snapped their heads in the direction of the shout. On the far end of the plane, Owen was waving Deckard over, impatiently tapping his foot. 

“Hope you don’t get an infection,” Deckard said hurriedly before rushing off to his waiting brother. 

Luke sighed as he watched the smaller man’s retreating back. Accepting defeat this time, Luke leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. 

… Four stab wounds

Three fast cars

Two loaded guns

And a punch to the face!

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Auntie D”

All villains get paired up by the Dark Shadows World - “Match Made in Hell (MMIH)” Division. It’s always such a challenge to find a suitable match for The Joker. Good thing you’re still around.

“What about her?” one of the entities points out and the others attending the meeting are fast to disagree.

“No way, he’ll kill her in a week!”

“She’s not strong enough to keep up with him!” another one vociferates.

“He’ll eat her for breakfast and burry the leftovers,” the leader concludes and the contendent is dismissed.

“Oh, what about that one?” someone points out towards the woman and nobody’s happy with the new choice.

“Are you kidding me?! She’s such a wimp; no way she can handle The Clown Prince of Crime!”

“Wouldn’t last two days,” another committee member complains.

“Bad choice!” more and more object.

“I’m so sick of this, we have the hardest time finding him a girlfriend,” the youngest entity sighs and suddenly you are seen on the board.

“What about Y/N?”

“Didn’t we try before and it didn’t work?” one recalls, intrigued.

“Yeah, but it’s been a while. I always thought they should have stayed together, they can handle each other. How did they break up?”

“Something about him being selfish and her not paying attention to him,” the boss remembers.

“That’s it?! We can fix this, I see she has no match yet either. We’re running out of options so I think we should make it happen again and go with the flow. No better choice. Y/N is in the same building with The Joker as we speak and we’ll have to force things a bit but it could work. All in favor, raise your hands. Oh, right, we don’t have any.”

Just a bunch of shapeless Dark Shadows.

“Yes, yes, might as well, it’s frustrating to keep on meeting about this problem.”

“Agree, I’m sick of it myself. Let’s do it!” the youngest entity impatiently speaks.

“They are so close to one another, we need to act NOW.”

“Proceed,” the leader gives its blessing and…

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

You and The Joker almost - kind of- sort of –nearly…well … definitely had a thing going about a year ago. You are actually thinking about that at the present moment as you crawl through the vents of “Diamond Emporium” store so you can get to the goodies.

Mister J is there on a heist with his men and you have no clue about each other’s presence…yet.

MMIH Division is taking care of it.

You suddenly hear the cracking sounds under you and before you can move another inch the ceiling gives out and you land right in front of your ex, almost killing Panda in the process.

“I’ll be damned, Frost, a fallen angel ! Is it Christmas already?” J grins, instantly recognizing you. “What are you doing here, Doll?”

You gather yourself from the floor, dusting debris off your clothes, grateful you didn’t break anything.

“Same thing as you, J: making sure the air ducts are clean.”

“Ha!” he snorts, signaling his guys to spread around so they can collect as many items as possible.

“Sir, the seif is over there,” Frost announces and you turn around to look.

“Want me to open it for you?” you offer, this way you can get a few things as payment instead of The Joker getting everything. You know how he operates: too bad he had the same wretched idea of robbing the place in the same time with you.

J debates and decides after a few seconds:

“Are you as fast as you used to be?”

“Faster,” you smile, fixing your hair.

“OK then, go for it,” your former boyfriend pouts, watching you head over the seif. A very sparkly necklace gets your attention so you break the small glass case and get it out, tossing it to the ground after analyzing it.

“Too shiny,” you answer J’s soundless question when he looks your way with an intrigued expression on his face.

“Too shiny?!” he repeats. “Since when a woman complains about diamonds being too shiny?! Never heard of it before,” he grinds his teeth, puzzled.

You just lift your shoulders up, you don’t need to explain your taste in sparkly stones – he should know that by now.

Jonny is waiting by the seif and you just have to say it:

“My, my, Frost, you always look so sharp in your perfect tailored suits. I love men that dress fancy for every occasion.”

Frost straightens his back, pleased at your compliment:

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Oh, please, don’t let me interrupt your flirting,” The Joker shouts. “Can we finish this faster? We need to move out !”

Ahhhh, he’s getting annoyed, one of his “qualities” you like so much.

You start your work and J is messing around with his cane. He doesn’t want to bring it up but when does he ever know how to control himself?

“What’s wrong with my outfit, hmm?”

“Huh?” you stop what you’re doing so you can hear him.

“What’s wrong with my outfit? Since …ummm…apparently you like guys in suits. I wasn’t aware.”

You stare at his attire: no shirt -  just the purple coat, Batsy shorts and boots. About 4 heavy gold chains around his neck, a handful of bracelets on his wrists and a bunch of rings on his fingers.

“Nothing, it looks…good,” you smirk, getting back to your stuff and…done. “My God, you are faster!” The Joker exclaims, forgetting he was irritated about your earlier statement.

“I just want a few things; you know me: I’m not greedy.”

“Go ahead,” he agrees as you open the seif.

“I want this one…and this one…” you pick what strikes your fancy, excited at the excellent quality.

“What is this?” he frowns, pulling out a chocolate bar from a small drawer inside the seif.

“Weird, why would you keep chocolate with diamonds?” you inquire, surprised.

“Maybe one of those sentimental souvenirs for someone working here?” J tries to guess, disgusted at the thought.

“How dumb, you think so?”

“Maybe,” he glares at the bar, scoffing.

“Is it expired?” you bite your cheek, in mood for sweets.

“Nope, still good.”

“Can I have it?” you reach your hand and he gives it to you.

“Suit yourself, Doll.”

“I think that’s all I want. I’m done,” and you rip the plastic foil, beginning to munch on the chocolate.

The Joker’s henchmen stashed a lot of diamonds in bags and you linger around for a bit.

“I heard you have a kid,” J sniffles, puckering his lips.

“Yes, I’m taking care of my niece. My sister died last year, shortly after we…e-hem…went our separate ways,” you bring him up to date since he’s gazing at you with those hypnotizing blue eyes, expecting a briefing.

“She died?” he replies, not really giving a crap and you are aware of it.

“Car accident,” you mumble and your eyes get teary, saddened at the memory.

“That sucks.”

That’s the best he can say for “I’m Sorry” in Joker language. Thank goodness you speak that language.

“It does…” you whimper, trying to keep it together.

“We finished, sir!” Frost announces and you are glad for the interruption.

“I’m going then,” you back out, holding tight to your backpack.

“I might need you again, Y/N. Your skills have improved even more. I have a heist in 2 days, 3 seifs inside Gotham Bank. Interested?”

“Yes, of course,” you mumble, wanting to hurry up and run before the cops show up.

“Want me to pick you up?” J offers.

“Sure, I’ll text you the address.”

“You don’t have my new phone number,” he yells before you disappear behind the stairs.

“I’m an excellent hacker, I’ll figure it out!” you scream back before sneaking through the gap in the wall J’s henchmen opened for themselves to get in.

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

You managed to get J’s phone number and text him your address ; it was a piece of cake. Yummm, cake…you love sweets. Anyway…

He came to pick you up for the robbery, wearing… a suit. Dark green. Looks ravishing on him, not that you pay attention to such details.

You are going to take a shower and get ready. In the meantime, he’s left alone in the living room with Mikah, your niece.

She’s 7, going on 40.

MMIH Division’s strongest ally and she’s not even aware.

“I know who you are, I saw you on TV,” the girl inspects J, curious to hear him speak.

“Did you now?”

“Yes, plus Auntie D has pictures of you on her cell.” “You don’t say!” J grins, suddenly more interested in the conversation.

“Are you a bad man, mister?” Mikah wants to know right from the source.

“Yeah,” the short answer confirms it.

“Can I sit in your lap?”

“NO!” J growls, hoping you’re coming back soon.

“My aunt says she has the biggest crush on you,” the kid reports, not understanding why.

“Does she now?”

“U-hum, she talks about you quite a lot.” The little girl tightens her pony tails. “Hey, mister, are you single?”

“Supposedly,” he rolls his eyes, wishing she would shut up.

“Auntie D too. You should take her on a date.”

This feels like an interrogation: The Joker is the one that likes to ask questions, not the other way around.

Mikah just ignores his earlier reply and places herself in his lap. J doesn’t know how to react. She touches his face and he tils his head backwards because surely doesn’t like to be touched by strangers.

“Are you shy?” she bounces her legs, giggling.

“No, kid, I’m not.”

“Why do you have tattoos on your face?”

“Because I wanted them there, that’s why.”

“Auntie D says you are very handsome. I guess you are…in a strange way. Why do you look different? Auntie says we shouldn’t judge people for being different.”

Why can’t she quit talking?! J thinks. Is there a turn off button somewhere?

“Do you dye your hair?” she caresses the green locks, smitten with the wild color.

“No, it grows like this.”

“I think that’s cool. What happened to your teeth? Why are they silver?”

“Do you ever shut up?!” your ex snaps, fed up with the questionnaire.

“No, only when I sleep, ” your niece innocently blurs out. Mikah notices the numerous tattoos under the almost unbuttoned shirt. “Untie D loves guys with tattoos. She told me once you are a stud and then she covered my ears, but I heard it. I asked what it means because you don’t look like a horse in pictures. Auntie said to forget about it, it’s not for children.”

J snorts, finally amused.

“Did Y/N say that?”

“U-hum,” she nods. “Why do you have a cane? It doesn’t look like you’re limping.”

“So I can spank people that don’t behave,” J winks, entertained.

“Are you gonna spank Auntie D with it?!” “Ha!Ha!Ha!Ha!” he laughs. “Maybe, if she doesn’t behave.”

Interesting kid, he never had a dialogue with one before.

“Do you have children mister?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

The Joker lifts his shoulders up, not replying. Mikah continues her tirade:

“Auntie D says you’re the Daddy type. So how come you don’t have any kids yet?”

J is getting quite immersed in this crazy spiral consisting of the little girl spitting out things he shouldn’t know about.

“You should have a baby with Auntie D, I would loveeee a sibling,” she continues yammering and J wants to cover her mouth.

He finally has to seek for an answer to the burning question:

“Why do you call her Auntie D? Her name doesn’t start with a D.”

Mikah places her index finger on her lips, getting secretive.

“It’s girl stuff, I can’t tell you if you’re not part of the girl club.”

“I can be,” The Joker grins, hoping to trick Mikah into telling him.

“You’re a boy, can’t be part of our club.”

“Ohhh, that’s too bad, little Doll. But if you tell me, I’ll take your aunt on a date.”

She gasps.

“Oh my God, for reals?!” “A-ha,” The Clown Prince of Crime is fast to utter.

“You promise?”

“Yeah.”

She gets close to his ear, whispering: “My auntie’s bra size is a D-cup, that’s why I call her Auntie D.”

The Joker doesn’t remember hearing anything funnier than this for the past few months. He snickers, closing his eyes and Mikah giggles, happy the bad man is laughing at something she said.

“I’m ready,” you finally step in the living room, gathering your wet hair in a messy bun. You are intrigued seeing your little niece in J’s lap, both laughing, accomplices on a secret for sure; you can tell.

Before you can express your curiosity regarding the scene unfolding in front of your eyes, J gets up, leaving the kid on the chair he sat and cracks his neck, approaching.

“Change of plans, Princess, we’re going on a date. Go put something nice on.”

“We’re going on a what?!” you crinkle your nose, watching Mikah’s mouth opening in amazement - she seems delighted.

“Hurry up, I don’t have all night,” he pushes you back towards the bedroom.

“I don’t want to go on a date with you,” you protest, displeased and baffled.

“Shut up, woman, don’t talk back to me! Be grateful you have the honor of having a date with The King of Gotham,” he snarls, shoving you in the bedroom and closing the door behind him. “And hurry up…Auntie D!!!!” and you hear him laugh as he distances himself from the door.

What the hell is going on? You debate, perplexed about tonight’s twist, digging in your closet for a dress. But you have to admit you don’t really hate the present situation. After all, you still have the biggest crush on your ex, too bad he doesn’t know.

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

Match Made in Hell Division is absolutely, utterly and indisputably more than happy to close two difficult cases in the same time: The Joker and Y/N aka Auntie D.

You took enough of their precious time, even if they have an eternity to their disposal.

Plus, J is the first male villain to be part of a girls’ club, another legendary skill he will forever be praised for in The Shadow World.

It all started with a bra size.

Also read- MASTERLIST

http://diyunho(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

[powertobehandsome]

The Way I See It || Matt and Seth

Part three for you. @blindlyburning​

"Elektra Natchios? She and Matt used to date in college. From what I understand, she really broke his heart or something, but I don't know why it's so important for him to know she's back in town... good riddance to her, basically. He was such a wreck. Like he's Matt, so he was pretty good at not showing it, but I mean, I saw through his shit."

"Naturally. I've... been there with the man who hides the emotions but you're the best friend so you can see through it." He smiled and started to relax.

"What kind of name is Elektra? Like... that alone sounds like a nightmare."

Fun. Seth was trying to... what? Get close with his lawyer while in the middle of this? And now the heartbreaking ex-girlfriend was back. Great.

"Right? She's all gorgeous too. Like supervillain gorgeous. I wish..." Foggy huffed, took another bite of heaven, and continued a minute later. "At least you'll be there. He seems to really like you, and I bet having someone nice around will help him not... slip back into Elektra-land."

"Of course she's gorgeous. The super-villains always are." Seth, for the first time in what felt like months, thought of Summer. She was no Villain. She had done some great things for his self-confidence. But maybe she was a lower case villain. Because recovering from her leaving had taken far longer than he cared to admit.

"Sure, though. Maybe I can read him bedtime stories and cook him a meal for once. Ryan only really works with a grille. He's the ultimate outdoor cook. Me? Not so much. I like ovens and processors and that kind of thing."

Matt didn't get back until almost five thirty. When he walked in, he stopped, sensing the somewhat tense mood of the place. His hand gripped his cane reflexively before he made himself hang it on a hook.

"Somebody die?"

"Mnnnnn. This cop's got shitty handwriting."

Matt frowned, then shook his head. "It's fine."

"Fine? This is embarrassing even to read."

"So don't read it."

"Bite me, Murdock." Foggy groaned and looked up. "How'd it go?"

Matt's smile was secretive for a moment before he spilled. "They dropped all charges."

"What? HELL YES! Officially?"

"Officially." Matt tossed him a manila packet, then turned to Seth. "You and Ryan are free to go anytime."

Foggy was flipping pages. "This is incredible. Yes. Yesssss. I knew the one-two of me with photos and you with your creepy, stubborn, eloquent ass would work."

"Bull."

Foggy flipped him off, too happy to even get into the verbal sparring. "Too bad we can't go after the guys that did this. They shut that down nicely.. but whatever. Freedom for the good guys! Seth, where's your better half at? We gotta tell him the good news!"

"He is on his way back from JFK with our luggage. Since... well, since this all seems to be over..." You'll probably want us out of your house. "If you'd like to discuss your fee, we'll get that to you before I leave here."

He text Ryan the address, who responded with a simple:

>> What are the plans tonight?

And Seth locked his screen without replying. He'd hear soon enough.

"On top of your fee, since you didn't get to charge us for going to trial, I would like to buy you both drinks tonight. I insist. It's the least I can do for all that you've done.”

"You can mail a check if that's easier," Foggy shrugged. "Karen will make the bill up when she comes in tomorrow. Drinks sound --"

"Like a terrible idea for someone with your injuries and on prescription painkillers," Matt interjected. "But if you want to stay a while -- I'm sure flying will be needlessly painful -- maybe we can do drinks in a few days. I mean not that you have to stay, but... the company is nice. And I don’t want to stick you on a plane until you’re actually ready. This isn’t a client thing.. it's a friend thing."

"Oh. No. We'd planned on staying at least a week. And I... was offering to buy drinks. Not to drink them myself. I'm not suicidal." He shrugged at Foggy and then looked back at Matt.

It wasn't his place to bring down the room, and he thought the mention of the man who'd made an appearance, and the message he'd delivered, might do just that, so Seth stuck to happier things. "But you're sure? Will you let me at least buy groceries? Something? You've done so much."

"You can buy groceries," Matt agreed, grinning. "But you've got to let me cook."

"Matt we should go out tonight though, celebrate! If Ryan votes go, it'll be three to one, and you can suck it."

Something seemed off with Seth, Matt thought, and felt a sliver of worry. "Okay... Seth, you okay?"

"Tired," he replied softly, his smile was genuine. "You should have a bagel. I ordered too many. And though your partner and I put a decent dent in what was delivered, there are still more to go around."

He didn't know why he felt uneasy, honestly. Maybe it was just the exhaustion. The pills. The pain that riddled him from armpit to hip. Well. With the lucky addition of his face, too.

"And, while I hope he'll agree, Ryan might try to err on the side of reason. The little shit."

The door opened just then.

"Someone say my name?" Ryan smiled, lugging two duffle bags and a suitcase. 

"Seth invited us out for drinks and you're the swing vote," Foggy explained, and went to help him with the luggage. "Celebration thing, since the charges are all dropped."

Matt got a plain bagel and sat down to tear at pieces of it. He rolled his chair over to be near Seth, feeling a strange need to just be close. "Everything go okay, Ryan?"

"Completely? That's awesome. Yeah. Let's... I would like to go out. If Seth is up for it. We have money. Still no cards, of course. But those... I asked that they be delivered here. Is that okay? They said it would be about three days. But we have clothes and we can finally get out of Matt's hair."

"Actually, he's invited us to stay. Surprising, I know. Since nobody can sleep with your train charging through the living room."

"Bite me."

"I prefer things a bit more kosher."

Ryan was smiling and rolled his eyes, looking at Foggy as he happily reached for a bagel. "I see Seth called Sandy for lunch. The Cohens never take bagels lightly."

Reaching out toward Matt, Ryan alerted him of the returning of his phone, thanked him again for it, and then settled back against the wall. "So, you two know the city. Where are we having dinner?"

Foggy had just gone for another bagel as well, and at the last question, he and Matt asked in unison: "Isn't this dinner?"

Foggy stared at Matt for a minute, then laughed. "You guys didn't hear that. I swear we aren't married. You heard nothing. And there's a pretty good kosher diner down the block, if that'd work?"

Foggy sent Seth a text while talking: 'pls dnt be mad. I dnt want 2 tell him 2nite. Will upset him. Want him to have a good nite. Will tell tmrw. K?'

"I was just joking. Literally any food is more kosher than biting Ryan."

"An no. Bagels do not constitute as dinner. Find a pub. Cheese fries. Hamburgers. Beer and whiskey. Seth can be our designated driver."

"I'm high on pain meds."

"We'll get an uber."

Seth smiled then, nodding. "Would... would it be too much to ask for a little nap before we opt for anything dealing with the outside world? I'll set an alarm. I promise it'll only be an hour or two. Just enough to recharge."

Ryan looked to the other two for confirmation. He didn't care either way. He figured they were all full on bagels for the time being anyway. "You nap. I have freedom. And I want a proper, double decker bus tour through the city."

Seth wasn't even listening, but he nodded all the same. Instead he looked at his phone.

>> It's not my place. He's your best friend. You know what is best for him. But... if we somehow run into her tonight, or your friend Andrew, be prepared to lie your ass off.

>>matt sucks at lying but I passed that class in lawyer school. Thanks Seth. I appreciate you.

Once it was decided to go home for a while first, they went. Foggy went with them to Matt's place, wanting to help with the luggage, and he gave them a friendly goodbye when he headed back out, already trying to decide what to wear and where to take them.

Matt seemed glad to be home. "You guys both napping?" He asked. "Or are you going out to be free right now, Ryan? You should still try to stay wary of your surroundings if you do. Just... a New York thing."

>> I know he does.

"I'm going out. Only taking enough money for the tour. They last about an hour or two. Go down to Brooklyn. Up to Wall Street. They show you were the soup nazi kitchen was from Seinfeld..."

"Dude, you're such a tourist."

"And you're a dick. But you're still my best friend. You guys enjoy your time. I'll text if there's any trouble."

With that and a wave at Seth, Ryan was lightly stepping out the door again.

Seth wrapped an arm around his ribs and moved to go sit on the couch. It didn't matter how comfortable the bed was, or that he'd shared it the night before, he still felt like he didn't have the unspoken right to go in there and sleep whenever he pleases.

"You... don't have to stay, if you have other things to do. But thank you, Matt. For whatever it was you did. You're quite literally a life saver. I owe you a lot."

"Literally just doing my job... and I was thinking that a nap sounds good actually. Would it be weird to share the bed again? It's yours as long as you're here, and if you don't want me there, I understand."

"I would rather you there," he replied, perhaps a bit too candidly. But Seth stood again, and then worked to catch his breath as he walked back to the bedroom.

"I don't understand how it all just went away."

"It's mostly about who wants to be the biggest pain in the ass. The people who hurt you refused to come forward for whatever reason, and with the photos and medical reports on your injuries, it's pretty clear you were a victim. The prosecutors’ office knows that sometimes, police reports aren't... as accurate as they should be." He helped Seth to bed, then helped him undress to whatever level he wanted once they were there. "Basically... a lot of little things came together in our favor, and Foggy and I pushed on all of them as hard as we could."

His underwear was what he'd opted to sleep in, knowing now how warm the covers got in Matt's room, and he silently watched Matt help him get undressed, thankful for the kindness, for the help, for everything his new friend had done. It was too much, and Seth wanted to repay the kindness. Someday, maybe, he would.

Seth's eyelids became almost instantly heavy as he laid down in the bed shaped heaven, and he rolled to the comfortable, non-bruised side, slinking closer to Matt. For some reason, he felt the need to be close, to have some kind of contact, so he moved until his forehead was pressed up against the other man's shoulder. "Fuck. My phone. I was going to set an alarm."

Matt had stripped down to his boxers as well, and he reached back to very, very carefully stroke his fingers somewhere he knew was uninjured. "I'll wake us up in time," he promised. "Get some rest."

Seth dreamed a little, he thought, but by the time Matt woke him, he couldn't remember any of them. Some time in his sleep, he'd managed to scoot closer still, and thanks to the affection he'd received, he had draped an arm (and muttered something in his sleep about telling his hurt ribs to fuck off) over Matt's side.

Ryan returned about three hours later. He went straight for the couch and collapsed, figuring Seth would wake him too when it was time.

When Matt finally did wake him, tired, but happy eyes looked up. "Sorry," he whispered, pulling his arm free. "Thank you for the nap. I feel better."

"I'm glad. Are you sure you're up for going out, though? Do you need another day to rest?"

"I'm fine," he replied quietly, sleepily. "Besides, I'm not the one partying, remember. But Ryan and Foggy deserve a night out to celebrate. And today was a good day."

Seth looked at Matt for a long minute. "Are you okay, though? Today was only legal business? Your bruise from last night is pretty subtle. More so than I would have expected. I'm impressed."

"Strictly legal," he promised, then stretched with a quiet, pleased sounding little moan. "And you're right. They deserve some fun. But if it gets to be too much for you, tell me and we'll call it a night, okay?"

"As you wish," Seth replied a little playfully, and then finally had to make himself pull away with the reminder that this wasn't his boyfriend, and he needed to get his shit together.

When he was finally up and dressed in his own clothes from his bag, Seth went to get Ryan. "I'm gonna take pills. You get up."

Ryan groaned, nodded, and then sat up in a rush. He looked at Seth's mess of curls and smiled sweetly. His dumb brother was too good for this world. "Any word from Foggy on where we're going?"

Matt shook his head and got dressed, then called Foggy, who answered with a ridiculous amount of energy.

"Hey!  So let's take them to Josie's! I know it's a dive and a half but the food doesn't suck and c'mon, Matt, Josie's!"

"Okay," Matt agreed, smiling. Ever since they'd added food options at Josie's bar, Foggy had been addicted -- when they could pay. "Half an hour?"

"You bet your blind ass, Matty-boy!" Foggy hung up.

It felt good to hear him so happy, Matt thought. Foggy needed this sort of thing. "Looks like we're going to Josie's.. Foggy's second favorite place on earth. It's a shitty bar, but surprisingly safe."

"Sounds perfect," Ryan replied, and Seth hummed his agreement. It would be fun, they were both sure of it.

Seth walked over to where the Western Union envelope was placed and thumbed through the bills. He knew if they'd just gone to a bank to pick up the cash from their own accounts, things would have been fine. But at the time, they were being as low key as possible.

By time they were all ready to leave, most of Seth's pain and quiet resolve had dissipated. "Ready? Let's go get you three drunk and happy."

"Two of them, anyway," Matt said, smiling. From there, it wasn't long until Foggy was giving all of them hugs in the doorway to Josie's, although his hug for Seth was more of a delicate pat than anything else.

The bar was sleazy, but the drinks were strong and the food surprisingly good. Matt slowly worked on just one drink and didn't partake in the food, but he seemed very happy to be there with them. He stayed close to Seth all evening -- unless Seth indicated he didn't want him there. Matt told himself that the nearness was in order to help Seth if he needed it, but the truth was that he felt happier and more at ease when they were close enough to touch.

Eventually, Foggy tried to entice the others into a game of pool. Matt had been loving all the warm interactions, but the pool worried him. "Maybe Seth should sit this out... Seth, come be a wallflower with me, tell me how the game goes?"

Playing pool definitely wasn't an option. Not with the leaning and stretching across the table. But he liked the idea of going over and sitting beside Matt anyway.

He leaned, whispering in Matt's ear against the steady buzz of the bar noise. "As if you can't hear each play better than I can see them," he teased, brushing against Matt's shoulder, and lifting his glass of ice water to his lips.

"So, I fly to New York... Foggy is stripes. He sunk one on the break; I'm convinced it was pure luck... the airline sent my luggage to Georgia. I had to wait two days to get it.... Ryan sunk two, but he scratched on the second, so it's Foggy's play... I figure my luck surely can't get much worse, considering my layover in Indiana was four hours, and then another delay because of plane maintenance. So Ryan and I go out for drinks... Foggy and Ryan both missed, but Foggy made one... no. Shit. Three, before missing... Then I got too drunk. Got beat up, then arrested. And you came to the rescue warning me that I fucked with the wrong people and all that... led me here. And I hurt. And I feel like I've been high for days, but I don't regret any of it. I'm happy to be here."

Seth's whispers made Matt shiver in a familiar, sensual way he'd only ever experienced with one person. His lips parted a little as he listened, but it wasn't the words that drew him in so much as the sound of Seth's voice and the little clinks of the ice every time he moved his glass. He liked the smell of his skin, even the traces of blood and drugs, because Matt could practically taste Seth's body healing, and that was a nice thing. Seth was nice. He was awkward and strange sometimes, but who wasn't?  And none of that mattered. He was too nice, too sweet, too good seeming for any of that to matter -- and that was when Matt realized he was definitely forming a crush on Seth... a crush Seth probably didn't mind.

So much for being straight. The realization was a little frightening at first. Matt wasn't sure how to process it or if he was even okay with it -- but did his acceptance really matter? Either way, Seth was here and making Matt feel wanted, and Matt wanted him to feel the same.

"You give an excellent narration," he replied during a pause, his whisper very low and a little gravelly, lips ghosting against Seth's ear. "I can hear them, but can't see the colors or the numbers.. and I like listening to you." He touched his forehead to the side of Seth's head for a brief moment, then turned his attention back towards the game and put his arm around Seth, mindful of his hurts.

"And I'm glad you're here, too. I wish it was under better circumstances... but I'm still glad."

Seth's lips parted to allow a slow, shaky intake of breath to pass through. His stomach twisted in a way that felt much different than nausea as he felt Matt's whispers against his ear. His eyes closed when Matt's head rested against his. Seth smiled.

The arm around his shoulders was welcome, and Seth inched just a little closer, wanting to lean in to rest wholly against Matt, but opted to keep things casual for the time being, just in case Matt was wary about Foggy or Ryan getting too interested too quickly.

Seth continued to narrate the game, including when Foggy sank the eight ball. "Unfortunately it wasn't the pocket he'd called out. So Ryan technically won," Seth said, smiling and taking a moment to look at Matt while the game wasn't actively being played.

"Would you like another drink?"

"No, I'm..." in a heartbeat, Matt's entire demeanor changed. He stiffened and seemed to shut off his warmth and humanity at once, despite not moving, and he turned his head towards the door.

The men who'd attacked the boys had just walked in, looked around, and headed for them.

Matt stood up and grabbed his cane.

Foggy looked up and then over at Ryan in question.

"You friends with these guys?" The leader -- who was the only one that hadn't been there for the attack -- asked Matt.

Foggy quickly moved up to stand next to his partner. "We're their lawyers," he said, and didn't seem half as drunk as he had a few minutes ago.

"If you're here for trouble," Matt started to say, but the leader shushed at him.

"I'm not going to start trouble with a blind man. I'm Hector Ramirez. My parents raised me better than that. No. We have something to say to Cohen and Atwood. Just words."

Matt looked tense, but he nodded. "Okay. Ryan. Seth. You mind coming over here?"

Though he looked like shit, and he was more frightened than he cared to admit, Seth exchanged a glance with Ryan using his one good eye.

Ryan had expected Seth to follow him up, stand right behind his shoulder, as he normally did when they were faced with a potential fight. But this time, Seth stood a little closer to Matt, looking like he was a little more his partner in crime than he was Ryan's.

Meanwhile, Seth had to bite his cheek to keep from running his mouth. He was sober. And these guys could clearly beat the shit out of him.

"I think whatever message you have to deliver was done by your lackeys the last time we met," Ryan said, nodding at Seth. "What is it you want?"

"To offer my apologies," Ramirez said. "What they did was unconscionable. I am sorry. We are trying to make Hell's Kitchen a safer community, and attacking guests is a terrible way to do that. Please. Accept my apologies, my assurances that no further harm will come to you from my people... and my gratitude for the discretion of your lawyers. I will handle discipline privately with these men. We do not assault people here -- and we do not commit gay bashing."

Matt took a small step forward, stunned by what he was hearing, because Ramirez seemed to be telling the truth. "Are you serious?"

"I am. This isn't going to be the beginning of any vendetta. We won't do that here. Your clients are safe. You are safe. We only kill our enemies in Hell's Kitchen, my friend -- and these two men are not enemies."

Foggy wished he was a little more sober, because he had to be hallucinating.

Seth and Ryan looked at each other in surprise. This wasn't at all what they had been expecting. A fight. A warning to stay out of their clubs. A threat that Seth wouldn't be so lucky next time.

But an apology.

Seth was willing to let things go. He wanted to enjoy the rest of their time in New York. He wanted to enjoy the rest of their night.

But Ryan wasn't so easily swayed.

"Yeah? You gonna have your guys pay for the hospital bills? How about the pain pills he has to take because he can't hardly move without them?"

"Ryan, let it go. He said he wanted peace. The whole thing is over. Let's just start up another game."

"No. Because you can't play a game. Because your fucking rib is cracked."

"I know. I know it is. But I just want this to be over." Seth reached out to put a hand on Ryan's shoulder, who jerked free of his touch. "Ryan, please."

Finally Ryan looked at Seth, still fuming. But his gaze shifted to Foggy, and then Matt. Eventually, he nodded. "Fine. But when you next want to call your dad and tell him how great the world is, how nice your time in New York was, don't forget to tell him you were the victim of a hate crime. I'm sure he'll appreciate hearing the story."

Ramirez listened and watched Ryan until he was done. He smiled then and held his arms out to his sides.

"It is not enough? I see. You come from California where everything is fair. Where everyone is paid. It is not enough for you to escape with your lives, to be given an assurance of safety that you clearly don't want."

Matt shifted so as to stay between Ramirez and the Californians, but his heart was already sinking.

"Okay. I take back the apology, Ryan Atwood. One should never give a gift that isn't wanted. But I'll give you one more, a lesson: sometimes, drunken men do stupid things and nobody pays. Sometimes, sober men do things that are laughed at. The world? Not a fair place. Lawyers cannot fix everything for you. They cannot always get you money. Sometimes, all the lawyers can get... is killed.

"You'll go home tonight, Seth Cohen and Ryan Atwood. Because if we see you in New York again... it's a dangerous city.

"You got what you wanted now."

Seth’s heart fell to his stomach and effectively made him nauseous. Ryan’s temper had never been a good thing. And while what the men had done was unforgivable, there were certain instances where he should just know when to let things go. It was a lesson he had never learned. And, it seemed, one which was likely to get them killed before they made it out of the city.

“It is a dangerous city, and though you may believe otherwise…”

“Ryan.”

“You don’t own it.”

Seth grabbed Ryan by the arm and pulled him around to face him. “Will you fucking knock it off. I know you were uninjured in the fight that happened the other day. But I already fucking feel like death. I get it, you’re pissed. I’m pissed. But he came looking for peace and now you’ve essentially turned that olive branch into a pistol.”

Ryan pulled his arm free of Seth’s grasp, spared one more glare in the direction of the Ramirez, and then moved back to the pool table, inserting another couple quarters to release the balls for another game.

Seth didn’t apologize for his friend. It was clear, he hoped, that he didn’t stand in the same position, but he knew Ryan was angry for Seth, and so to speak out against him, or to apologize for him would feel like a betrayal Ryan didn’t deserve. So Seth moved back to where he had been sitting beside Matt before the others arrived, knowing in his gut that they would likely be shot while leaving the bar tonight.

“I know you don’t approve but…”

“No, Ryan. No ‘but.’ These men put me in the hospital. And we don’t have a weapon in this fight. Literally. So all you’re doing is waving the fucking red cape at the raging bull and asking me to stand behind it. I wanted a week of tourism and shopping.”

“You don’t expect me to apologize for standing up for you, do you?”

“Is that what you were doing?” Seth looked down at his glass of water, his eyes following a drop of condensation along the outside of the glass as it gathered with the rest of the drops at the wet ring at the base. “Play your game or let’s get out of here.” Seth turned his attention to Matt and Foggy. “I’m sorry. For whatever trouble that just caused the two of you. I’m so sorry.”

Matt had stayed put while Ryan and Seth wandered off. Ramirez was still there, watching, and Matt could feel satisfaction rolling off him. Ramirez would have honored his word, Matt thought -- and now he would honor this one.

"It's too bad," Ramirez murmured and patted Matt on the cheek.

"Don't touch me." Matt slapped his hand away.

"I won't have to." He nodded to his crew and they left. He was the last out the door. As for Matt, he seemed rooted in place, hands tight around his cane.

Everyone else in the bar avoided looking at them.

Foggy took his phone out.

"Don't bother," Matt said. "You know the police won't help. Especially not us."

"Then who will? Matt? We can't exactly get in a gun battle or whatever with an entire gang! In case you didn't notice!" Foggy wasn't sure whether he was more frightened or angry, but decided it didn't matter. "We need help. Maybe the cops..."

"We both know exactly how this will play out." Matt's voice had become a growl. Finally, he moved. He went and got his jacket and pulled it on. For a moment, he stood still, between Ryan and Seth, and then he shook his head without a word. He couldn't disagree with what Ryan had said, no matter how naive it had been. Ryan had an angry passion for justice, it seemed, and Matt could understand that.

Matt headed for the door.

"Matt! Where are you going?"

"Home. Make sure they get back safely, Foggy. Goodnight."

The door shut behind him.

And now, as if the certainty of his own impending death wasn’t enough, as Seth watched Matt exit the bar, he stood, winced, and considered trying to run after him. He was worried. Anxious. He had read plenty, heard plenty of stories about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. And he had no doubt that Matt was every bit that man and more. And so, as he left in a huff, Seth wondered if he was really going home, or if he was going to make sure they could leave the bar without being attacked.

Speaking of which, Seth didn’t know what to do. Leaving was dangerous. And even though the entire bar had heard Ramirez threaten their lives, he doubted their deaths would even warrant questioning of that man and his gang. Ryan was impossible to reason with right now, and he likely wouldn’t be approachable for the rest of the night. Still, he racked another round and didn’t give Foggy the option to break, but when none of the balls actually made it into a pocket, he stepped back and rested the butt of the stick on the ground, his head hanging low.

Seth looked at Foggy. “You are not obligated to play with him. My friend and brother is a moron. But, this is also his olive branch to you. You’ve done a lot for he and I, and he’s not so good at the ‘sorrys.’”

“I’m not sorry for what I said.”

“You put our new friends in danger. You better fucking be sorry.”

Ryan looked up to meet Foggy’s eyes, and though his pride wouldn’t let him say it, his eyes admitted his remorse.

“I’ll call an uber whenever you two are ready to leave.” Let’s just hope it’s not one of the gang members who answers the call.

"Something tells me we should... finish the game," Foggy said, his voice a little tight. His vision blurred and he reached up to wipe quickly at it, then took his stick back up. He set up a shot and froze in place, ready to take it -- but he couldn't. Instead, he closed his eyes and let his head hang.

"Matt's gonna die, Seth. I know you know... it. He's gonna die. If he... stays home alone." His voice was so quiet that he wasn't sure either of them would hear it. Hell, he wasn't sure he wanted them to. He straightened up after a moment, looking pale, and took his phone out again. "Andrew? Hey. Um. It's Foggy. Look. If you. You can get hold of Elektra. Matt needs her. Right now.... yeah.... no we're in a bar. He left. Josie's. Yeah. No." Foggy sounded on the verge of tears, or maybe like he was going to be sick. "She'll understand. Please tell her." When he hung up, he hurried away to the bathroom where he was promptly sick.

A few minutes later he came out, having rinsed his mouth and washed his face. He still looked pale, but this time he took a shot.

"Lucky thirteen," he said quietly, when the thirteen plopped in.

Seth had heard him. Ryan was too busy taking a deep pull from his glass of whiskey, treating it much more like a shot than the slowly sipped on glass it was supposed to be. Seth had heard him, but he didn’t know what to do. He was less help to Matt in his condition than any of the others, and while his heart was aching and yeah, maybe he should go home… or, back to Matt’s home, he didn’t even know if Matt would be there. He didn’t know what to do.

When the Foggy returned and took the shot, Seth sat up straighter, his stomach twisting with uncertainty, and he waited for some sign, some suggestion on Foggy’s part. Ryan, however, had decided that getting drunk would be the best coping mechanism. He was brooding and silent, and every time he looked at someone, his eyes screamed that he was amping up for a fight. But Seth didn’t want it to come to that.

Ryan lost that game, horribly, and as when Foggy still had two balls left, Seth had put in an order for an uber, and he got the notification that the car was waiting outside just before Foggy sunk the eight ball.

“Right, well, our ride is here, and I think it’ll be better for all parties involved if we get out of the bar and just go somewhere quiet where we can lock the doors.” He wanted to find Matt. He wanted to make sure he was okay. And while Seth had no idea that Foggy had tried to reach out for Elektra, Seth prayed that there had been someone on Matt’s side who could help him in whatever it was he was trying to do.

Ryan swayed as he leaned against the pool stick, but he eventually nodded and -- with several attempts -- stuck it back in its place on the wall. Seth pulled cash from his wallet and closed out their tab, leaving a more than generous tip for the trouble they’d caused. And then he turned back to look at Foggy. “I think we should at least get out of here. Whatever that translates to for you, we’ll go along with. But I can’t… just sit still in here any longer.”

"We should go to Matt's..."

But gunshots drowned out whatever else Foggy was going to say. People screamed and ducked, but the bar seemed untouched.

Several more shots rang out and then a man screamed in agony, a sickening, blood-chilling cry.

Foggy curled up on the floor and prayed.

Bullets sprayed in through the glass.

There was another scream from outside. Shouting. More shots -- then silence.

Seth had ducked, like everybody else, crouched down so he was below a window, but he also crawled through the grime of the bar floor to the door.

Matt.

Was Matt out there? Was he safe? Had one of those cries been him?

Seth was about ready to run out the door — now that there had been silence — adrenaline muting out any pain he had, when he heard his name being called.

“Seth!”

When he looked back over his shoulder, just shy of pushing the door open to try and go out there, to make sure Matt wasn’t the one who had screamed out in pain, his eyes caught sight of Ryan, his face screwed up in agony, clutching at a slowly growing red stain on his lower abdomen. The words to describe what had just happened wouldn’t come to Seth’s mind, he couldn’t fathom them, couldn’t put them in the correct order. But the sight alone, and the knowledge, however incapable he was of putting it to words, of what had just happened to his best friend, to his brother, kept him inside the bar and running back in the direction of the pool tables.

Ryan slid to the floor, clutching the wound. Seth pulled out his phone and immediately called 911. “Yeah. We’re at a bar called Josie’s. There were gunshots outside. My… My brother’s been shot. In the abdomen.” Seth peeked around to look behind Ryan and then shook his head, as if answering a question. “It didn’t go all the way through.” He helped Ryan all the way down to the ground, laying on his back, hoping gravity would work in his favor and keep some of the blood inside Ryan’s body. “You fucking idiot,” he whispered to Ryan while dispatch alerted him that help was on the way. “You mother fucking idiot. You had to go and get yourself shot.”

Foggy crawled over to help with Ryan, too numb and horrified to actually think through any of this. He couldn't handle it, it was all too big, all too terrible, so he had to focus on just one thing. Just Ryan. Just Ryan and his blood.

He couldn't think about Matt. He couldn't even let himself start to wonder.

Just Ryan. Only Ryan.

----

At the hospital, Foggy couldn't leave. He looked like another sibling, too lost and worried to just be a friend or a lawyer. When they were finally allowed in, he sat numbly on one side, holding Ryan's hand, and he silently prayed. Please don't die. Please don't die. Oh my god, no. You're too young. Please don't die. We could be brothers. Please don't. Please don't.

Surgery had lasted too long, though with the touch and go situation, any length of time felt too long. Seth had tried to call Matt, but it had gone to voice mail.

“I know you’re… Fuck. Just let us know you’re alive. Tell me where to find you.”

The surgeon had assured them that Ryan, if he woke, should be through the worst of it. The bullet had hit a bone in Ryan’s hip, and they’d had to screw in a metal plate. He’d lost a lot of blood, but his blood type was O-, common enough. While Foggy sat and held Ryan’s hand, Seth paced. He was hours past the time he was supposed to take another pill, but he’d left them at Matt’s, figuring they would be back in time. The police came to talk to the guys after another hour. Luckily, they weren’t ones they’d dealt with earlier that week.

With as level of a head as he could manage, Seth explained to them the proceedings of what had happened not just that night, but that week. He said he had not seen a shooter, and could not flat out claim that it had been Ramirez, but he did share the threat that had been delivered. Seth left Matt out of it as much as possible, saying that he had left as soon as Ramirez had, and had gone home. He even claimed that he’d spoken with Matt on the phone just before he’d contacted the uber company — was the driver okay?

The cop told him they would be in touch, but to not go anywhere, not to go back home to California just yet, and they would keep him updated.

Seth returned to his seat by Ryan’s side, checking his phone.

He was distracted when Ryan opened his eyes, exhaled miserably, and then peeked down at Seth, who shook his head.

“What? I couldn’t let you continue to be the center of attention with your injuries. You know how much I like for things to be about me.”

“No. Ryan. That’s me. I’m the self-absorbed one. You’re the reckless, fighty, impulsive one. And you’re an idiot. But i’m glad you’re alive.” Seth squeezed Ryan’s hand, spared a hopefully reassuring — though still plenty worried — glance at Foggy, and then went to get the nurse.

Several hours later, a text message arrived from Matt:

>> am alive. Am safe. Can't join you at the hospital tonight. Will try tomorrow. End message.

Foggy was asleep in the chair by that point, completely unwilling to leave Ryan's side. A nurse had been in recently to check on Ryan, but things were generally quiet in the hospital -- until there came a very light tap on the door and it was pushed open by a young person.

He barely looked like he was out of his teens. Soft, dark curls framed a youthful and somewhat effeminate face, and he was dressed plainly, as if to purposefully offset his almost delicate beauty. Gray jeans, a tight gray shirt, and a dark gray denim jacket left him looking more like trash that had been swept off the street in the eighties than anything else.

"Sorry to intrude," he whispered. "Are you guys Andrew Gale's friends? He said you might need... someone to protect you." Although it seemed far too late for that, Montparnasse thought.

Seth read the message over and over again. He considered offering to go to Matt, but he needed to stay at Ryan’s side, and he knew this. But still, he hoped that Matt wasn’t injured and trying to treat himself. He didn’t question how Matt knew they’d gone to the hospital. That part of the message seemed less important. And Seth still didn’t know that Elektra had been contacted. So all he had left to do was worry. Not just about Ryan, but Matt too. As he read the message again, he considered waking Foggy just enough to give him the little bit of reassurance he might receive at knowing that Matt was alive. But Seth figured he would receive his own text message, so letting him sleep would be the kindest thing for now.

As the kid, for that’s the only word that really came to mind when he looked at the young man, entered the room and mentioned Gale’s name, Seth stared at him for a long moment, and then just gave one singular nod of affirmation. “Thanks,” he whispered, his throat full of gravel, and he shifted in his chair, holding his breath as he did, wishing he again had that same surge of adrenaline to down out the sharp jabs once more.

He didn’t know how this kid would protect them, but it seemed like a pointless conversation. Seth turned back to Ryan, leaned his head over the edge of the bed, and tried to sleep.

Both he and Foggy were woke at close to six the next morning.

“I’m sorry, boys, but during shift change in the ICU, when linens get changed and doctors make their rounds, we have to ask families to leave. Just for two hours. Then you’re welcome to come back. And hopefully he’ll be awake when you do.”

Montparnasse had been perched in the windowsill, and when those instructions came, he shook his head.

"Sorry. They can go, but I've got to stay." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a thin little badge wallet, which he offered to the nurse. "I need you not to talk about that," he said, gesturing to the id he'd handed over. "I'm undercover, but I've been tasked with protecting this man."

The nurse frowned but gave the id back. It looked genuine enough. "Alright... but the others have to go."

"Mm. We gotta get some breakfast, and go get your pain meds, huh?" Foggy stood up. He gave Montparnasse a confused look, but decided to believe him. The guy looked familiar -- and Foggy was blissfully unaware of the Uzi tucked under Montparnasse's jacket.

He got up, stretched, and kissed Ryan's forehead lightly before looking at Seth. "Matt's place? Then back here?"

[junker-town]

The Top Whatever, where only like 12 college football teams really need to be ranked at the moment

This is the weekly ranking of only the teams that really must be ranked on this exact day. If you’re looking for the polls, those will be over there.

1. Stacey.

She’s number one this week.

This is just, like, CLASSIC Stace here. I don’t know if her name is Stacey, actually, but this ... this feels like a Stacey move. This was also lucky. The only team in the game that had someone run out on the field to celebrate won, 71-68, after seven overtimes in the new highest-scoring game ever. You did it, Stace. YOU DID IT.

2. Clemson.

A deceptive, 28-14 win over Wake Forest, for a lot of reasons, and in a lot of directions.

In the positive sense for Clemson: The score is closer than the game actually played. Clemson leaped out to a early lead and slowed down a bit, Wake Forest has been pretty stout defensively, and the Tigers turned the ball over twice. Add all that up, and the Tigers can feel better about a game they controlled despite a lackluster scoreboard result.

In the negative sense, Clemson starting QB Kelly Bryant hobbled around in a walking boot with a sprained ankle.

P.S. Wake Forest is cruising to a lead in the “Most Respectable Losses” column for the year. Also leading in the “Most Outrageously Wide Field Goal Attempts” category.

If you’re gonna miss, miss big

3. Miami.

Beat Florida State, 24-20. Remember that the Top Whatever basically ranks the teams with the best possible records based on how they did this week and this week alone. That’s how we find an excuse to put the Canes way up here. Not only are they undefeated, but they found a way to beat their most bitter rival in their own stadium in the most bitter fashion imaginable.

Imagine, a WIDE receiver on the RIGHT spelling doom for Florida State

We should all thank Mark Richt for going for the win when other coaches might have just squatted on field position, waited on a field goal to tie, and taken their chances at overtime. You know what a good way to not lose in overtime on the road is? TO NOT HAVE AN OVERTIME AND WIN IN REGULATION AND JUST BREAK SOME HEARTS AND MINDS WHILE YOU’RE AT IT.

Miami might not be one of the best football programs in the nation, but they are definitely one of the best this week, and that and Miami fans showing off all that hard offseason work in the gym AND the tattoo parlor is more than enough for us.

Confirmed. RT @OfficialCSO: MOST MIAMI FAN EVER. http://pic.twitter.com/4X8dnpksvT

— rebkah howard (@pink_funk) October 7, 2017

4. Alabama.

Oooh, look, A&M made Alabama bleed their own blood. The final was 27-19, but the thing everyone needs to know coming out of this genuine fight at Kyle Field is this: Alabama was up 24-3 at one point, futzed around, got real resistance, and didn’t finish the way Nick Saban likes teams to finish. (They even messed up multiple punts. PUNTS, DAMMIT.)

When Alabama doesn’t finish the way Nick Saban likes teams to finish, Nick Saban starts hissing about “poison” in postgame press conferences. He also makes a face like this.

POISON!

Oh, it’s going to be a bad week for the Golden Flake Kicking Dog at the Alabama facilities this week, especially because loading the box and daring Alabama QB Jalen Hurts to pass worked, for the most part. (Doubt that there is an official, sponsored, and specially bred dog for Saban to kick in times of crisis at your own peril.)

P.S. Saban, in that postgame press conference, says “We’re not gonna win every game 66-3.” Alabama plays Arkansas next week, a team that just lost by 26 points to South Carolina. Alabama will probably win 66-3 next week. Saban will be infuriated by the field goal.

5. TCU.

A 31-24 victory over West Virginia. All TCU does is confuse the hell out of opposing offenses, get timely production, and somehow turn opposing strengths into weaknesses.

If this sounds cracked, consider that TCU has already:

Won a shootout against SMU, a team that prides itself on tempo.

Beaten Oklahoma State, an offensive powerhouse, with offense.

Outlasted a West Virginia that outgained the Horned Frogs by a hundred yards (508 to 406) and had 12 more first downs (28 to 16) on the day.

When asked about TCU’s defense after the game, West Virginia QB Will Grier said: "They didn't do anything that we thought they were going to do.” That’s TCU right now, the most deliberately confusing good team in America.

6. Washington State.

A 33-10 road win over Oregon, which was good because Wazzu played well on the road, and also weird because Wazzu kicked four field goals? They also relied heavily on defense, and that’s all fine, because somehow we’re here talking about a 6-0 Washington State in early October.

Oregon did have the coolest strip/punch-out you will see all year, and for a team missing their starting quarterback due to injury, that will have to do.

http://pic.twitter.com/jeBo2lQ4aY

— Beto Garcia☠️ (@BetoGarRam) October 8, 2017

Oregon defense 2017: ONLY THE MOST CASUAL TURNOVERS.

7. Penn State.

A mostly forgettable, 31-7 win over Northwestern. That’s not Penn State’s fault. No one should remember anything about this Northwestern team. The moment when Saquon Barkley decided to stop pretending he was mortal was pretty cool, though.

We see why everyone is drawn to @PennStateFball Saquon Barkley. http://pic.twitter.com/cAOwzPW9lG

— Penn State On BTN (@PennStateOnBTN) October 8, 2017

8. Georgia.

Destroyed Vanderbilt, 45-14. Georgia let Vandy do nothing while rushing for 423 yards of offense, making Vandy look like vintage Vandy.

I know, as Americans we enjoy making our emotions into facts and creating our own realities. I’m not immune: For at least 14 minutes in 2015, I believed Jim McElwain was going to turn Florida around. That said, we might have to all take a deep breath and be honest about all of the following things:

This Georgia team is very good, easily the second best team in the SEC.

The Florida team that would’ve otherwise been due for ruining UGA’s season just got a transitive loss to Troy.

A Saban assistant was hired in the SEC East and did ... well?

The only game left on the schedule with any real menace is Auburn.

Given the history of the Auburn-Georgia rivalry, the only definite outcomes are pain, confusion, and a few arrests the family lawyer will have to help plea out in court the week after the game. Say it with me: “Your honor, Thad Livingston Maisewell is sorry about stealing that boat, and since he was emotional from the football game, and because it is his first offense—-”

9. Washington.

An efficient, 38-7 win over Cal. Efficient a word you use to describe a game in which the Huskies defense only allowed 93 yards, and in which Jake Browning ran an option keeper in for a TD on fourth-and-2 because he could, probably while laughing. The schedule still sucks, which isn’t their fault, but it does kick in one entertaining possibility: a Huskies team that has to pull for Washington State to get to the Apple Cup undefeated.

10. Wisconsin.

Defeated Nebraska, 38-17. A confession: I swear Wisconsin lost a game already. They haven’t, but if Wisconsin misses out on the Playoff, let’s go ahead and blame it on The Mandela Effect and a loss to TCU in Week 2 that never happened.

11. San Diego State.

Won 41-10 over UNLV. Well, let’s just see how this went and —

Rashaad Penny, my goodness. http://pic.twitter.com/El9Y9VdDGF

— Dave Southorn (@davesouthorn) October 8, 2017

— yes, yes, it went just fine.

12. UCF.

51-23 over Cincinnati in just three quarters. You might want to stay the hell away from UCF right now.

13. Navy.

A 48-45 win over Air Force in which Navy only rushed for 471 yards. ONLY.

WISELY AVOIDED PLAYING FOOTBALL THIS WEEK

USF.

LOST TO MICHIGAN STATE, COACHED BY MARK DANTONIO, THE MAN WHO — ON THE HAPPIEST NIGHT OF A MICHIGAN FAN’S LIFE — WILL BE WAITING, WAITING PATIENTLY, THERE IN THE RAIN AND THE DARK AND THE COLD, HOLDING A LEAD PIPE AND WAITING FOR YOU TO FORGET THAT ALL HAPPINESS IS FLEETING AND THAT ONLY VENGEANCE IS A CONSTANT; HE’S SMILING BECAUSE HE KNOWS THAT YOU WILL SLIP FOR A MOMENT, AND IN THAT MOMENT FALL INTO THE DARK, BITTER SUNSHINE OF HIS VENGEANCE!!!

Um, yeah. Michigan.

LOST TO IOWA STATE AT HOME BECAUSE [FILE NOT FOUND, STILL PROCESSING]

Oklahoma.

ANY ONE-LOSS TEAMS TO CONSIDER YET?

There are still two undefeated teams in the state of Washington alone. In other words: It’s still too damn early for that.

[xayneyierz]

I just feel so. so. so. sad but pls don't read and get triggered I'm emotional and hormones are raging

I realise we all hate bullies when we become self-aware (mercy, or not, to those who don’t) but when you realise you’ve been that way yourself one way or another when you were young or even now either consciously or unconsciously, it makes you wonder if you could have done it differently and could you have.

So I’ll start with what sparked this crazy self-reflection. Came home late had nothing to do while waiting for my hair to dry and I went to flipboard. The first thing I saw was a headline that went something like this: “Vulnerable dad tortured and made to eat his own testicle before he died”.

I mean. WTF right. This sounds like something from a fked up video game or some war crime shit.

So I read it. Not sure if it’s fake cuz after I did I couldn’t bear to read more about it and somehow I just believe that there are people who are perfectly capable of this and have the gall to plead not guilty. And it wasn’t even like that guy did anything. At least from what I read.

And then I stumbled across this article about a youtube account that posts videos of the parents pranking their kids. Just that the pranks go way beyond what those “just for laughs, gags” do. Again I only watched a sort of reaction video where the guy spliced some of the worst moments. Basically the parents would pretend one of the kids did something bad by deliberately setting them up, and then angrily confront them in like typical angry hollering and cursing parent way.

For one, any parent that curses at their child deserves hell. I don’t need to explain it.

And then the child is seen to repeatedly deny it and then burst out crying. Or in other videos they would see the older kids physically rough housing with the younger one. And according to the reaction video guy it’s mostly the same boy being targeted. Anyway i couldn’t bear to watch any more of the videos to confirm wtv. Just those scenes were enough. Apparently they’re all taken down the channel cuz they lost custody of that child and he’s now with his biological mom or sth but yknow thank heavens. But I’m sure if I search hard enough there will be reuploads and reaction videos and whatnot.

But ok and today plus yesterday I was reading koe no katachi and I watched the movie today. Basically about a boy who bullied a deaf girl and then got bullied himself when everyone else then saw him as a bully even though everyone else were just passive or even minor active bullies.

Ok so this just made me so mad and made me think so hard. To be honest with myself, and I have been for a while now, I have bullied people before. My brothers mainly. And not the kind of sibling bullying and occasional physical fights. I mean they never got out of hand especially with my parents there even though I remember this particularly bad one between my bros but my parents were always there to mediate.

The one I remember and feel guilt and regret about is when I made my brother play with my friends and I when we were in after school care and I would have him chase us and we would pretend he had mad cow disease cuz he was known to have a bad temper then.

It was fun then. I felt like we were playing together. I didn’t think anything was wrong. Then he didn’t want to do it anymore. I can’t remember what happened but when I thought about this incident a decade later I realised what it was and how he might have felt. But then I simply did not feel that way. Waa it ignorance? Was it plain neglect? Or was it that I was not taught to feel for others? Or think about other people’s feelings? Or maybe not taught, but I simply did not have the empathy in me. I don’t know.

But one thing my parents did that I hope I won’t if I ever do procreate was cane me for supposed lack of responsibility over my brothers. Things they thought I should do, roles they thought I should assume because I was the oldest. Things my brothers did I was accountable for because I should have stopped them. I should have known better.

Well I didn’t. And I didn’t want that responsibility. I didn’t ask to be born first.

I actually think this is a reason I shy from responsibilities and leadership roles.

Even if my teachers think I’m responsible ha.ha.

Then in primary school I said stuff that were rather mean to two guys. I didn’t think before I talked and they sounded fine in my head but when it came out it was just all wrong. For one guy I just didn’t read the situation well and blabbed something insensitive. The other guy I was trying to say something encouraging and seem like I looked up to him but when it came out it just became mean and demeaning. My friends who were with me immediately told me that it was bad when we were out the classroom and when I looked back I realised how bad it sounded and how far off it was from what I meant. But who cares what I meant if I don’t bring it across. I thought about apologising and explaining myself but I never got the guts to so I still feel the guilt now and if the guy remembers he’ll think I’m a stuck up bitch for the rest of his life.

What I’m trying to say is, every time I read news or watch videos of bullying I always wish hell upon the bully. Especially when they’re just so exceptionally mean. But when I take a step back, like koe no katachi, what if the kid really has no idea? Taking a look at myself, I don’t consider myself a bully but I did actually bully people. My parents aren’t bad parents. I didn’t intend it. But I did bully people. And sometimes all we see is the terrible terrible consequence of bullying. And for some reason kids can be really really mean and unforgiving. We blame society, we blame their parents, we wish hell on them but what if they truly had no idea? No one told them? No one taught them?

Of course for kids who deliberately bully and know it’s wrong and shit really should go to hell especially if they never learn.

But koe no katachi is really special in the sense that we see that this boy really had no idea? In his childish mind he just saw things in black and white. It didn’t dawn on him till he became bullied. Until empathy was forced on him.

I’m not trying to sugarcoat the problem of bullying though, I’m just trying to see this from every possible side. Especially since I personally relate to this. All the episodes I recalled are my cringe moments. Moments I regret, I wish I could change. But if I were honest, I don’t think I could. Because when I was young we all knew bullying was bad. But the actual definition was iffy and you may think it’s ok but others may not. You may be able to take it but some other person may not.

I had a friend who would call me by my surname and I started calling her by hers after a while as payback but for some reason I added a “stupid” in front of it.

I thought it was ok cuz I didn’t mean it in its literal sense and I thought I was being affectionate. Until mutual friends told me it wasn’t very nice and I stopped.

I don’t think I was a very nice person. I probably am not one now. But I’ll only have my verdict once I gain more insight in the future and future me can analyse my current self like current self does with my past self.

We always have moments we want to change. If I had known - but I didn’t. If I could have phrased myself better - but my brain just chose to fart that day.

I’m just so angry cuz of this ignorance. The pain it causes people. And the pain it causes me now, knowing I caused pain in others.

Maybe the parents of those kids really thought they were just harmless pranks. Maybe they believe that it’s part of childhood to be deliberately induced to tears on a regular basis for laughs. Or be wrestled to tears and tell your parents you hate them for making you feel like this for a joke.

Ok sorry I really can’t sympathise with the parents I’m just so angry. The worst thing is that they probably get their positive reinforcement from the comments of people worldwide whom I hope never have children.

People just suck don’t they?

Contemplation about mankind just makes me so angry and sad I should have never started.

Any sane person who saw those clips of the boy crying would think it’s wrong. They tell him to take a joke. That he’s the only one in the household who can’t take a joke. Well if my parents screamed at me daily for something I never did until I cried or made my siblings beat me up for cheap laughs on youtube and then tell me while looking into my tearful eyes that it’s just a prank, I would never trust them again. And then some.

Call me sensitive or a prude or someone who can’t take a joke but even the Halloween prank where parents pretend or even actually finish their child’s candy and wait to see their child cry is just terrible imo.

Why would you want to see your kid cry?

Why would you want your kid to doubt your words?

Especially at that age when they think you’re absolute. That you’re the perfect being. Well of course you aren’t but why are you deliberately trying to show them that lying for the sake of laughs is ok. Especially at the age where they think that their candy, something that they can call their own, is probably their entire world. Even if you think they’re replaceable and cheap. I mean I know how it feels because I’ve been through that. When I look back I realise how insignificant it is. How replaceable candy is or anything else is. That it’s nothing to cry over. But then it meant the world. The kids might not remember it. But what if they do. What if they take away a lesson that you didn’t mean to teach. Maybe they’ll do it in school next time. Take away their classmates’ lunch because their parents did so and said it was a prank.

Ok slippery slope maybe but is it really?

Idk where this post is going anymore but I was just so overwhelmed. So sad. So angry.

I hate that I actually did those things. I wish I was more self-aware at an earlier age. But unlike koe no katachi I don’t have the guts to make it right. They probably don’t even remember but even if they do should i purposely bring it up and cause them more pain?

Thinking about this just brought me to justice. Is an eye for an eye really the best way to go? Every time I get overwhelmed and angry about a crime or a terrible incident a human being did to another human being, or even living thing, I would wish the same thing happened to them. Or worse.

But then a terrible thought came to me. And it just made me cry because those people have a family too. Those people have people that love them too. And if those people have truly felt remorse, punishing them will probably not ease their guilt (can you truly pay for your crimes? As if you’re buying something, can you really be free after?). The victim and their family may feel better (but will they really? Of course there’s the whole other purpose of preventing further incidents if punishment makes them learn or just makes it impossible for them to do it again) But what about the ‘criminal’s’ family…what about them? What about the hurt to them? Who’s going to take responsibility? The criminal? Who’s going to make them feel better? Do they deserve it?

I just…why can’t everyone be aware. Be more aware. Why can’t I be more aware. When will I stop hurting people unintentionally. Will I do it in the future because I fail to think ahead? To think about other people in that moment in time.

This is why I need to avoid such topics.

Why am I so emotional I think my period is coming.

Nothing good is gonna come from me being sad. And there’s nothing to cure ignorance in the world even with the Internet.

Sometimes I wish I can unread things.

Undo things.

But no matter how many times I do it. I know it’ll be the same. Because the decisions I made is just how my brain works. It’s just how I am. And I can’t change who I was in the past without losing who I am. Not that anyone can change the past. What I mean is that harping on the past won’t help. Learning from it is good but just harping is useless. And all I can do is live with the guilt and make myself better. Maybe when I get the guts I can set things straight but why dredge up old and painful memories? It’s not like it will lessen your guilt. Live with it it’s your punishment.

I’m not saying people shouldn’t apologize for what they did wrong though I mean I shouldn’t need to keep putting disclaimers if you actually understand what I’m trying to say.

Sigh.

Why did I do this. Idk I don’t think there’s enough beauty in this world to counter the ugliness.

Like the strange concept of if there’s good there has to be evil or vice versa.

What if there are no poles? Is it really that bad?

Why should people suffer so others can enjoy happiness.

If happiness cannot exist without suffering cuz there always has to be a counterbalance then…

I’m going into communism and total dictatorship haha and we all know how that turns out.

Sigh ok time to stop rant over.