#cw the foster care system

[autistic-katara]

TELL ME MORE ABOUT CATRIONA!!! what's she like . can i squeeze her like a stress ball and put her in a blender

AAAHHH TYSM FOR ASKING !! (made it kinda long oops)

anyways uhh not sure what u want to know but her birthday is the 22nd of July, she’s 15 years old, she’s lived her whole life in Scotland, she’s lesbian, she was raised non-religious until she was placed with a hyper-christian foster family (her parents died when she was 11 // religious trauma frfr), she has a little sister named Francis who she was separated from after her parents died, one of her earliest memories is watching her dad try and learn arabic from a family friend (his parents were west asian immigrants who gave him up for adoption when he was a baby so he never got to learn his parents language), she has ptsd from what happened to her in her foster home + her parents dying, she was the second person in the group to leave home and find the flat (the first being Liam), she loves cats (there’s a stray who sometimes sleeps inside the stairwell of the apartment building, she named her Faye), all she wants is to find her sister, she doesn’t cope with her problems well (none of them do), she hates the scars on her legs (scared of what others would think but glad it’s unlikely anyone’ll see them), she’s autistic (undiagnosed bcz the system sucks), she straightened her hair everyday for almost 3 years because her (white) foster family couldn’t be bothered to figure out how to take care of curly hair, she and Ella start dating after a good few months of living together in the flag (she wonders what she would think of her scars, she knows she wishes Liam would stop), she often wonders how long it’ll take to fuck-up the little family of the 6 of them (forcing her alone again), she hopes it won’t happen for a while, she’s scared it’ll be her fault.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Forest Wanderings

Author’s note: This is the next part in Mer-Cedric wandering with Reader! Thank you to @egrets-not-regrets for letting me borrow her oc Erriox! First. Next

Warnings: brief talk about the American foster care system, please ask me to tag something if it bothers you/I missed it

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel

Summary: Cedric continues to accompany you on your backpacking travels through the forest near the sea he popped out of. 

Cedric flew alongside you through the air with an effortless ease that you were trying very hard not to be jealous over. The rocky, hilly terrain covered in trees and underbrush was difficult for you to traverse on foot, and the path that you were taking to the nearby town for your next stop in civilization was poorly maintained in this part of the forest you were walking in. He stayed close to you, while not being so close as to feel as if he was crowding you.

You also got the distinct feeling that he could move much much faster than the pace he was… Flying? He looked as though he was swimming through the air somehow, from the way his fins and tail flexed and shifted in the slight breeze that blew through the trees and felt nice on your face and hands. “How are you able to do that?” You ask, pausing and sitting on a large boulder as you’ve decided to take a break from hiking. 

The point of backpacking in your opinion wasn’t necessarily the destination that you had in mind - as you weren’t planning on going anywhere in particular, but the breathtaking journey. Like now. On one side of the rocky and grass-covered path was a steep cliff drop, where you could see the rolling waves of the ocean, the salt-sea air refreshing. On the other side, was the same deep forest that you were traveling through. Many of the trees were spruce and douglas fir, though there were also cedar trees growing wild as well. 

You’d seen deer wandering through the underbrush, nibbling on the new-growth leaves and half-ripe berries growing on some of the bushes and vines earlier today. You’d taken a couple of pictures of them with the camera you’d brought with you. You’d been tempted to take pictures of Cedric as well as the large white and black patterned mer flew through the forest, but you’d decided to wait for an appropriate time to ask him first. 

“Do what?” Cedric asks, tilting his head a little at you as he sits down next to you. 

“Fly through the air?” You answer. He’s so big, you can’t imagine that his bones are hollow… And he doesn’t have any sort of wings that you’re familiar with, to allow for flight. 

“Oh! It’s an ability granted to us by-” Cedric stops talking for a moment, fidgeting with his hands “It’s an inborn ability, though flying itself is a skill that one needs to practice. I’ve met some brothers who are very good at flying. Others… Not so much.” It was a gift that the god-emperor had gifted each mer-ine, along with the ability to swim through the sea of stars and the raging warp for prolonged periods of time. But it was forbidden to say such things to the mortals of Ancient Terra, lest they learn of things too early. 

You squint up at him. His ears were a fascinating shade of pink and he was fidgeting with his hands, which meant that he was either lying to you or hiding something. As many tales you’d heard about how terrifying and mysterious the Astartes were, Cedric was neither of those things. He was big and strong, but had a curious joy with which he explored the world. You silently wondered whether or not he was young for an Astartes. Perhaps like you, a young adult, having left home for the first time and searching for one’s place in the world… “Uh-huh. We’ve been traveling together for several hours now. What do you think of backpacking?”

“I find it to be an interesting practice. To enjoy the journey for what it is, rather than because you are trying to get somewhere.” Cedric answers with a small smile “I’ve told my brothers that I will be traveling with you for some time… It’s definitely possible that at least one of them will come to see us, and pester me.” He sighed a little, shaking his head a little.

You were about to say something, a question on your lips when the device attached to one of Cedric’s wrists crackled to life. 

A low, masculine voice rumbled “I just got your message. What’s this about traveling overland with a human?”

“They’re traveling the nearby forest, close to the waters’ edge, and I asked if I could join them, at least until they get to the next human settlement, and they agreed.” Cedric answered with a small grin directed at you.

“Alright. Be sure to use your common sense and exercise caution, alright? You’ve got some healing potions on you, right? If you’re going to be traveling away from the pod for some time, you better be properly kitted out for it.” The other rumbled.

“Yes papa, I have healing potions in my bag. A couple of regular ones and a couple of high-strength ones, just in case something happens. I’ll be sure to vox in regularly, too.” Cedric answered with a sigh, a small smile still lingering on his face.

“Good. Your mom is in the area, trading with her inland cousins, and foraging for some ingredients for Amelia. She’ll probably stop by and say hello.” Cedric’s dad responded, a sigh in his voice.

“Okay dad. I’ll keep an eye out for mom.” Cedric answered, rolling his shoulders a little. 

“Good. Talk to you again soon. Have fun wandering, pup.” The older mer answered.

“I’m not a pup! I’m full grown!” Cedric groused, pouting at the communicator on his wrist.

“Yes, yes. I know. Goodbye for now.” With that, the machine stopped making noise.

The large white and black mer chuffed grumpily and glowered at the machine for several seconds before shaking his head a little. He smiles at you and apologizes “Sorry for ignoring you, but my dad voxxed me.” 

“I’m glad that you’ve got family who care for you, Cedric. It’s good to be cared for.” You answer, a wistful smile of your own tugging up the corners of your lips.

“... Do you not have a family?” The mer asked, startling you a little.

You hadn’t expected that he would pick that up “Well… Sort of? It’s complicated. I was left in the baby box at the hospital I was born in, and was never told anything about either of my birth parents. I grew up in the foster-care system, traveling from family to family every couple of years… I was almost adopted a couple of times but… After I hit thirteen, the younger kids were focused on as potential adoptees as most parents looking to adopt aren’t interested in teenagers.” You sigh deeply, shaking your head a little “I suppose that’s where I got my love for travel… Although I enjoy it a lot more now that I get to decide where to go, and how long the journey takes. A couple of my fellow foster siblings I really connected with, so we stay in contact with each other when we can.”

“... Oh…” Cedric managed out. You see tears in his light blue eyes, and his lower lip wobbles a little. “Would you… Mind if… Would you be uncomfortable if I gave you a hug?”

You smile a little and shift so that you’re facing him more on the boulder you’re sitting on, opening your arms wide “Sure thing, Cedric.” Part of the reason why you’re wandering like this is to process all of the feelings about your… Varied childhood without being watched and pressured by other people to be what they think of as normal. You also have weekly video chats with a therapist, who has been helping you… You think. You cry at least once during the sessions, but you tend to feel better afterwards.

Or at least hollow and tired, which is better than the bitter rage that still festers under your skin from time to time. 

He smells like sea salt as he hugs you tightly, almost to the point of driving the air from your lungs. Cedric’s hug is warm and comforting, and you hide your face in his broad chest. You can hear his heart… Hearts? Beating in his chest. It’s a comforting if somewhat strange sound. You hadn’t expected to run into a mer-ine, but Cedric has been a wonderful companion so far.

He also doesn’t seem to mind that you hug him as tightly as you can for several minutes. You hadn’t realized how touch-starved you were until Cedric started hugging you.

Maybe mer-hugs lasted for several minutes? They were deeply mysterious creatures after all. Or so you’ve been told. You do eventually let go of him, and he lets you go a moment or two later, and makes no comment on the fact that his chest is damp with tears.

“Right, then. Let’s… Shall we get moving? I’d rather not sleep this close to the edge of a cliff, as I don’t think I could survive such a long fall. Besides, we’ve got several hours before sun-down.” You say, smiling a little.

“... What does sun-down have to do with stopping traveling?” Cedric asks curiously, tilting his head a little at you again. “It’s a clear night, and the moon is nearing full. More than enough light to continue to travel by if you wish.”

“See, humans don’t really see well in the dark, like at all without having a much closer or much brighter source of light to see by then the moon and stars. I do have a flashlight, but I try to save the battery for emergencies only. Besides, I’ve been traveling for most of the day and pushing myself to walk overnight will only exhaust me, possibly dangerously so, for the next leg of the journey.” You explain, shrugging a little.

“Oh… So humans do need to sleep every day/night cycle. I thought so! Hah, I’ll be sure to tell Jophi that when I see him next.” Cedric responded, wriggling a little in delighted vindication.

“Do… Do you not need to sleep?” You ask your new traveling companion, curious as to whether or not that rumor was true.

“I mean… We should, and we can. But we can travel for months if not years on very little sleep in much more dangerous conditions than this terrestrial walk we’ve been doing. But we only do that in dire circumstances, and in much larger shoals, with those who are resting in the middle of the shoal, so that everyone else can move them while they sleep.” Cedric answered with a playful grin. 

“What would cause a shoal of mer-ines to migrate like that?” You ask.

Cedric shifts a little, ducking his head a little “If we received a call for help, because of dangerous predators attacking or causing troubles. I cannot say more about this without permission. Certain dangers can listen in if they are spoken about, and we wish to spare this world from their view.”

Well… That was a deeply ominous thing to say, Cedric. Thank you very much. Now you’re imagining space-cthulhu attacking random planets as mer-ines like Cedric swarm after them like a bunch of angry wasps or bees. “Gotcha! No asking about mysterious predators. Ready to get going?”

“I am ready when you are.” The mer nodded, smiling a little as he started to float, content to travel alongside you.

[asherthephoenix]

Oooh! Here's a question! What is one (1) headcanon you have for each reboot kiddo? (One for Priya, one for Bowie, and so on.)

Most of these I've had for awhile but thanks for helping me realize there were a few characters from this cast I never bothered to make hcs for lol. Some of these are gonna be sadder than others (I like making angst). TW FOR MENTIONS OF: Child neglect, transphobia, homophobia, the foster care system, child abuse, relationship abuse Caleb: Dumped Priya shortly after the season 2 finale when he realized they just weren't compatible and he'd rather just be friends (please let this be the case in s3🙏) Axel: She's related to Shawn and has a part time job as an instructor at the flower shop and fighting school. Years after the show she gets promoted to manager/class organizer

Nichelle: She's the daughter of the in-universe equivalent of someone like Beyonce or Will Smith, and so she got into acting as a baby.

Lauren: Her parents paid very, very little attention to her when she was a small child because they were preoccupied with their (full of illegal practices) circus buisness and Lauren was primarily raised by her older brother (who is 11 years older than her.) The computer was her babysitter a lot of the time and she got into creepypasta stuff at like age 4 Damien: He's trans ftm and was disowned by his parents after coming out, luckily he had a supportive aunt who took him in and allowed him to start HRT. He signed up for TD without hesitation or even bothering to look up what the show entailed when he heard he could win a million dollars because he knew he could use that money to A. repay his aunt for her kindness and B. afford top surgery

MK: Raised in the foster care system alongside her twin brother. She barely ever got anything for herself growing up and developed her klepto behavior after stealing her first video game and console (a 3DS and pokemon sun for anyone curious)

Raj: Figured out he was gay in middle school. Didn't want to come out because while he knew his immediate family would be supportive, his extended family overseas certainly wouldn't be. Needless to say his family cut contact with a lot of distant relatives after the show aired Wayne: He'd never actually had a girlfriend prior to being on TD. When the purple haired intern (who I hc started liking him after he helped her in the fear challenge) told him she had a crush on him she had to explain it very slowly several times over in order for him to understand what she meant Ripper: also had it rough growing up unfortunatley; he mentions at one point his parents dropped him a lot and told him that babies ruin everything so I don't think it's a stretch to say his parents were abusive. Axel was the first person who truly made him feel loved and accepted.

Zee: Uses perscription marijuana for anxiety. The soda is a clear metaphor for weed; while yes he drinks a lot of it normally since he probably wasn't allowed to use drugs (even perscription) on camera he seriously upped the amount of soda he drank as a sort of replacement

Chase: Was actually a decent person once upon a time and legitimatley did woo Emma over with actual charm. With time unfortunatley he started the youtube channel and once it took off the fame got to his head so he would do anything to make the next "viral video," including putting his GF's life in danger.

Emma: She used to be a model student- straight As, participated in a lot of extracirriculars, had a ton of friends, etc. All of that went down the drain when she used 90% of her time to work on the youtube channel. After breaking up with Chase (the second time) she went to therapy and is trying to become the great person she once was, but it's going to take quite a bit of time.

Julia: She first came out as queer for the sake of a pride month post/getting sponsorships from "queer friendly" brands but hadn't actually thought much about her sexuality at the time. Getting to know MK (and Bowie + the hockey bros) during TD made her realize she actually is a Lesbian, she wasn't lying like she thought she was. Millie: Developed a HUGE crush on Priya during s1. She first started gaining feelings around episode 6 or so but didn't quite process that it was a crush until she realized just how happy she was to have Priya back when she forgave her in the season 1 finale + how upset she would have been if she lost Priya. She cried herself to sleep after watching the season 2 livestream at the playa😭 Bowie: Was a huge brony when he was a kid and got into arguments about the show with grown men online in middle school Priya: After season 2, she was contacted by Courtney (who very reluctantly checked out the new seasons and was horrifed by Priya's situation) who offered to be her lawyer when suing her parents for the right to access the s1 prize money. They were sucessful and Priya moved in with Millie afterwards 😉

[streetlamp-amber]

blanket fort for the soul

dick grayson x batmom!reader

word count: 2.2k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: mention of death, family fluff <3 NOTES: dick grayson my little baby i love you so so much you deserve endless happiness and to be protected from all evil

You were just coming back from your lunch break with two of your coworkers when you received a call from Gotham Academy asking you to come pick up Dick as soon as possible. It didn’t take more than a minute after the call ended for you to inform your boss you were cutting your day of work short today, to grab your black trench coat and bag and to sit behind the wheel of your car, on your way to the private school.

Dick Grayson had entered your lives a month and a half ago, after Bruce took you on a date to Haley’s Circus where the young boy’s parents died tragically in front of your eyes. When you were informed that their child didn't have any family to care for him and would end up in the foster system, you didn't even have to try to convince your husband to begin the process to become his foster parents. It had been two weeks since Dick started living with you in the manor and though he was slowly warming up to Bruce, Alfred and you, he was still plagued with nightmares and a deep sadness about the loss of his family.

“What happened?” You asked the receptionist in a hurry once you arrived at the school. You didn't need to introduce yourself or mention to the woman behind the desk that you were Dick’s ward, perks of being married to Bruce Wayne.

“Ah, Mrs. Wayne!” The headmaster, a bald fifty-something white man with round glasses that you should probably try to remember his name, exclaimed as he appeared in the doorway leading to his office. “Please, follow me.”

You walked around the receptionist’s desk and entered the headmaster’s office, where a small boy with dark hair hung his head low. You could sense the sadness emanating from him the second you stepped in the room. You ignored the principal’s invitation to take a seat in the chair in front of his desk to instead crouch down in front of Dick.

“Dick, sweetie, are you okay?” You asked him worriedly. You rested your hands on his knees and lowered your head to try to catch his eyes.

The young boy shook his head ‘no’ before lunging onto you, wrapping his thin arms around your neck as he wept on your shoulder. You were surprised at first, Dick wasn’t comfortable enough with you and Bruce to do more than holding your hands when outside of the house, but you recovered from the shock in less than a second.

“Oh, bubs,” you whispered in a sigh, hugging him close to you and rubbing your right hand up and down his back in a comforting way as sobs shook his small body.

“He’s been like this since the beginning of the students’ lunch break,” the headmaster sympathetically informed you. “The lunch supervisors tried to comfort him but it was to no avail, so we called you.”

You turned your head to face the older man, noticing at the same time the plaque on his desk that read ‘Principal Richardson’. “You did the right thing,” you told him.

“Given the circumstances, it is more than alright if Mr. Grayson wants to go home for the afternoon,” Mr. Richardson offered.

“Do you want to go back to the manor?” You whispered the question in Dick’s ear and he nodded his head ‘yes’.

You rose up from your crouching position, Dick still hanging onto you tight like you were his lifeboat. Thank God he was a little frail since his parents’ death or you wouldn’t be able to carry the eight year old in your arms right now.

“Thank you, Mr. Richardson,” you thanked the principal and he accompanied you out of the school where one of the lunch supervisors waited at the door with Dick’s school bag and lunchbox.

You sat Dick down in his booster car seat – he was still a little too small to sit without one – and put his bags in the seat next to him before closing the door behind you.

“Please send our salutations to Mr. Wayne,” the principal told you and you shyly smiled, nodding your head one time as you sat down in the driver’s seat.

The ride back to the manor was quiet except for Dick’s sniffles as he continued crying. It broke your heart that you couldn’t just take all of his pain away. Both you and Bruce had lost your parents when you were kids, you understood the grief Dick was in just like you knew that only time will heal him.

Once you arrived home, Alfred came down the stairs to grab your bags while you carried Dick, who was back to latching onto you like a koala, in the house. You kicked off your high heels after walking through the front door and went straight to Dick’s room on the second floor.

“Let’s get you out of that uniform, how’s that sound bubs?” You softly asked him once in his bedroom.

“Okay,” Dick murmured, letting go of your neck to rub the tears away from his eyes and his cheeks.

You sat him down on his bed and turned to his drawer to pull out a pair of pyjamas. You then helped him change his clothes and once he was ready, with Zitka his elephant plushie tucked under his arm, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of his room.

“Can we make hot cocoa, please?” He looked up at you with his big blue eyes, the colour eerily the same as Bruce’s, and you simply couldn’t say no to them. Not before, not now and definitely not ever.

“Of course, bubs,” you said, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

You both made your way to the kitchen, where Alfred was doing an inventory of the dry food in the cupboards.

“Mrs. Y/N, Master Dick, can I help you with something?” He politely asked you.

“Pretend like we’re not here Alfred,” you told the butler as you helped Dick sit on the kitchen island. “We’re making hot cocoa. Do you want some?”

“You know I would never refuse a cup of your famous hot cocoa, Mrs. Y/N,” Alfred lightheartedly said and the two of you broke down in small chuckles.

“Should we also leave some for Bruce when he gets home?” You asked Dick who was now eye levelled with you from where he was perched on the kitchen island.

The little boy nodded his head ‘yes’ and you set up everything you needed to make the warm beverage, along with four coffee mugs. Dick helped you and in a matter of ten minutes, your drinks were ready.

“Come with me,” you whispered to Dick as you helped him get down from the kitchen island counter. “I have an idea of how to pass time while we wait for the hot cocoa to cool down a little.”

Dick held your hand as you made your way to the living room with the television and the comfy couches (because of course Wayne Manor had more than one living room, including ones that were more formal for the balls and galas you hosted).

“You wanna know what my brother and I used to do when one of us was feeling down?” You looked down at the small boy. He nodded his head for you to continue. “We built the biggest blanket forts that could ever be built. But I think with all the materials we have here, we can build an even bigger one. Are you in?”

You were slowly succeeding at making Dick feel better after the little episode at lunch. Grief comes and goes in waves, and his loss was still very recent. You just wanted to be there for him when the pain hits him.

Dick nodded his head, a little more excitedly this time, and the two of you set off to start building a giant blanket fort using the couch mattresses, throw pillows and blankets stored in the room. You were hanging a blanket that would be the roof while Dick held up the mattresses when Alfred brought your cups of hot cocoa to the living room, the drinks now topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. You thanked the butler and he smiled at you before he went back to the kitchen to complete his inventory, sipping his beverage along the way.

“Are you comfortable in there?” You asked Dick after a moment from the entrance of the blanket fort. He had been in charge of placing the pillows and blankets inside while you made sure the structure was stable.

“Mhm,” he positively hummed in response.

“Alright, I’m gonna give you our cups of hot cocoa then I’m gonna come in with the laptop and we can watch whatever you want,” you told him.

“Okay,” Dick said, his mood lighter.

Once the two of you were settled in the fort with your mugs, you opened the living room laptop (because of course you and Bruce had more than two laptops) and put it down between the two of you.

“So, what are we watching?” You looked at the dark haired boy to your right, waiting for his answer.

He shrugged his shoulders while drinking more of your hot cocoa. Yeah, he was gonna be a ball full of energy until way past his bedtime, but he deserved something fun and comforting. If anything, Bruce could train with him to tire him out once he was back home from work.

“Remember those songs we were listening to on the drive back from Bruce’s office last week?” You tried to jog his memory up to when you blasted Abba’s greatest hits after his first visit to Wayne Tower. You kept stealing glances in the rear view mirror the whole ride, smiling every time you saw Dick bopping his head along to the music.

The little boy nodded his head.

“Well, they made a movie where the characters are on a Greek island and sing the songs the whole time. Wanna watch that?”

Dick shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”

You grabbed the laptop and put it in your lap as you went on Netflix and searched for Mamma Mia!. Dick took the opportunity to scoot closer to you, his small body curling around your torso, and you smiled at the fact that he was more trusting and comfortable with you.

When Bruce arrived back home, he came to a stop in front of the living room with the television in it that he was only planning on passing by while he made his way towards the staircase to get to your shared bedroom. The room was disordered and more loud than it usually was at this time of the day, which is what got his attention away from his cellphone. He loosened his tie, feeling more relaxed now that his day of work as ‘Bruce Wayne, CEO’ was over, and approached the blanket fort in the middle of the room.

“What is going on in here?” He crouched down and peaked his head inside the fort.

“So when you’re near me darling, can’t you hear me? S.O.S.,” you sang instead of answering him, index finger pointing in your husband’s direction.

Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes. “You roped him into watching Mamma Mia?” He asked with a hint of a smile.

“I didn’t rope him in,” you scoffed over Pierce Brosnan’s horrible singing. “I suggested it and Dick agreed to watch it,” you sweetly grinned at Bruce.

Dick, who was still curled against you, one arm looped with yours while the other held tight onto his elephant plushie, nodded his head to back up your claim.

Bruce then noticed the two now empty mugs, clear traces of hot cocoa on them. “Did you make hot cocoa?” He perked up, now fully smiling.

“You got this little man to thank,” you pointed to Dick. “We made a cup for you, just heat it in the microwave then you can join us.”

“I’ll be right back,” Bruce said and jogged to the kitchen where a cup of your famous hot cocoa was indeed waiting for him. He was back in the living room two minutes later, shoes and blazer off, top buttons of his shirt undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, ready to relax with his family.

He handed you his cup of hot cocoa for you to hold while he made his way in the blanket fort and settled on your left since the laptop was still in your lap, hence putting you in the middle. Once next to you, Bruce pecked your lips to greet you and when Dick glanced up at him, the look in his eyes wondering if he would also receive some kind of greeting, your husband affectionately ruffled his dark hair before leaning over you to plant a kiss of the top of the little boy’s head.

Bruce then made himself comfortable, also cuddling onto you, and put his head on your shoulder, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he did so. You handed him his mug back and the three of you continued watching Mamma Mia!, much to your happiness.

Enveloped in the warmth of your two boys squishing you from both sides, you couldn’t fight off the smile that pulled on your lips. Laying under your blanket fort with your little family, it was moments like this one that made everything else worth it.

[anjanahalo]

Potential DPxDC Fic 6

Guess it could be just DP. I just like DPxDC. It's a Bad Fenton Parents fic, but based on me reading about various new forms of child abuse to use. CW below for childhood neglect and stuff.

Danny is born into the Fenton family after Jack and Maddie lose their beloved Jasmine to The Stystem. Taken from their home and placed in foster care for small things like forgetting to get her lunch perfectly on time (or every day after a breakthrough) or getting behind on laundry for awhile (after spending a week backing up their research in case of a ghost or EMP strike. Its not like they managed time to bathe or change clothes, either!). They wouldn't make the same mistake as they would with their lovely daughter. Instead of announcing the pregnancy, they kept quiet. Maddie stayed home so the neighbors didn't see her growing belly. When the birth came, they delivered at home (a biology degree is good enough!), and vowed to home school him so he would stay and not be taken away. The homeschooling didn't...end up with the same results as traditional school. They were both still busy closing in on their portal, after all, so lessons were usually sporadic and centered around their work. Danny definitely had the Fenton Genius (TM) from how he picked up advanced physics, calculus, mechanical engineering and mathmatics. He still wasn't great at reading regular words or writing, but his numbers are neat and his calculations flawless, so things like English and History could sit on the side. It was sad, of course, how Danny was stuck in the home for the sake of the family, the curtains permanently drawn to avoid the nosy neighbors that tore apart their family before, but instead of moping or rebellion, he worked alongside them as soon as he could. Maddie framed his first hazmat suit, gifting him a new one with each growthspurt, always white ("We'll let you pick your own Fenton OSHA Approved Hazmat Color once you grow up, Danny."), and he stood with his parents as they tried to open the portal when he turned fourteen. And it failed. Dejected, all three left and ate the planned celebratory fudge with sullen expressions, the fudge itself feeling overly tacky with their depression. Danny, however, got up in the middle of the night and snuck into the basement, his steps smooth and confident even in the darkness of the house (he could get anywhere in the house with his eyes closed). He crept into the basement, an idea striking him. There was an auxillary power button inside the portal itself, meant as a backup or last resort override. However, Danny knew his dad installed the electrical system overnight one night in a fit of manic inspiration. What if it wasn't the auxillary power button anymore? He slipped on his hazmat suit. He walked into the portal, double checked the wiring, and looked up at the button, red and obvious in the wall. If he was correct, he thought as he raised his hand to the button, all he had to do was-

Jack and Maddie raced down the stairs as the lights flickered and a faint cry rose from below. In the basement they found Danny in his hazmat suit. He stared at them with frightful shock, his hair and left hand singed, then turned toward the humming that enraptured his parents as soon as the descended. The portal was working. It worked! Jack and Maddie and Danny were all elated, but Danny began to recede from their work. Stating he wanted to journal their portal research and development into a story, he began to hide in his room more and more. He ordered and read books on biology, psychology, even philosophy, because he knew what happened to him. The portal opened on him, and he died. He awoke in the basement as a ghost, barely transforming himself into something human looking before his parents arrived. However, what he thought he felt went against everything he knew about ghosts. Ghosts weren't sentient. They were emotions strongly imprinted on ectoplasm. Enough ectoplasm or emotions and an echo of those dead feelings rose, taking on an avatar and acting purely off the instinct of the moods that made them. Considering ectoplasm usually manifested with death, and the strongest emotions of the dying are usually fear and anger, most ghosts were destructive with no care for property or life, mindless monsters who'd tear apart the mortal world if left to their own devices in a vain attempt to soothe their undying emotions. But Danny still felt like Danny. He had thoughts, emotions, physical feeling, everything like when he was...when the portal wasn't open. Research, thankfully, taught him what happened. After all, signs were there that something changed for the worse in him. He felt afraid of his parents, and he'd begun lying to them daily when he could never remember telling a fib. On top of that were the strange new powers he couldn't control and shapeshifting abilities between himself and some ghostly manifestation of himself. The portal changed him. He wasn't Danny the Human anymore, but he wasn't a typical ghost, either. Danny was a Philosophical Zombie, and he had no idea how he's gonna tell his parents.

[brokenpieces-72]

Echo

Note: I have been working on this oc for a while, and there's a lot I wanted to do with them. This story is oc reader insert, so I leave the name open but the hero name is already established.

CW: Foster system (abuse of it), injured reader, financial abuse, car crash, let me know if I missed anything.

You know that feeling when everything seems to be falling apart? You’ve had it before, when you lost your parents and separated from your sibling in the foster system. You feel it now too along with plenty of soreness from your injuries.

You lay in the hospital bed, with your cracked phone screen. Foster parents hadn’t seen any of your texts and no phone calls had been answered. You messaged your sibling but they wouldn’t be able to make it to you. Your friends were either stuck at work or asleep right now. The nurses and doctor suggested calling a lawyer for yourself, since the other driver is a lawyer and his family wants to press charges. Insurance company has you covered for any other surgery or treatment they need to do so no need to contact them.

Still, you stare at your phone screen staring at the small text message history you have. You could try. He might be busy, but you could try. While your boss wasn’t the softest or kindest person, he still cared. Many not a lot, but at least a little. Then again, maybe it would be a chance for him to stop mentoring you, and go solo again. The pros and cons fight over what to say in the text. Regardless you wouldn't be out of hospital for a while so he needed to know that.

E: Hey boss, sorry but I can’t come in to work for the next couple days.

You shut your phone off after sending it. Then you turn it back on again, debating whether to delete it, edit it, or leave it. Honestly with the drugs in your system, it’s a little hard to make proper decisions. You know he’ll ask, you know he’ll be hard on you for reckless driving, but he’s all you’ve got right now. Right now you just need another person with you, even if they’re somewhat of a stranger.

Your phone rings. Holy crap it can still do calls? Whatever not the point. You answer the call without paying attention to the screen, though you briefly see the name. This would not be pleasant.

“Hello?” You answered, before coughing. Maybe you could cover up your sore voice as a sick one.

“What's going on?” Your boss asked.

“Uhh… can I…” you pause a lot, the war still going on, and fighting over your vocal cords. To your boss's credit he’s patient right now. Finally, you get something out. “Are you on patrol?”

You rub your head, praying you don’t have a headache coming on. Your boss takes a moment to answer.

“Yes why?” He asked. He sounds irritated. You don’t want a lecture when he gets here.

“Nevermind. Forget it.” You say quickly.

“Outlaw, answer the question.” He said.

“… I…” you swallowed. “I’m in hospital. No one can make it, and… was wondering if you could come see me?”

There’s silence again and you shut your eyes. This was a bad idea. You hear a sigh over the phone, and regret sinks in.

“Forget it, I’ll be fi-“

“On my way, give me a few minutes. Do you need anything?” Your boss asked.

“Maybe a change of clothes.” You suggest. “That’s kind of it.”

He hangs up, and you sigh. He was gonna lecture you, but at least he was coming. Especially if they needed to do more surgery. God knows your fosters wouldn’t come anytime soon.

Jason Todd arrived at the hospital, jacket on, hood up, and a small backpack with a change of clothes for you. Trying to see you as your boss likely wouldn’t work very well, but seeing you as your brother could pass. He approaches the desk where a nurse is typing away. The nurse looked up, seeing him almost towering over her.

“Here to see Y/N L/N.” he asked.

“Down that hall, room 168.” The nurse instructed. Jason made his way down the hall, keeping an eye out for the room. He stopped himself just outside your door, ensuring the face mask he brought covered his face. His eyes were uncovered, but the hood shielded them enough. Then he overheard you on the phone.

“It was an accident, I swear I did-no it wasn’t for attention. I was just-“ you tried to get a word in as your foster parents demanded to know why they were getting medical bills. Jason steps in, quietly as you continued to plead innocent. “I just went out to meet a friend, I wasn't even drinking. Insurance money will cover it, I checked. I'm not asking you to cover it, I'm just telling y-...Okay. I'll transfer the mon-I'll take it out when I get the chance.”

You’re on the phone getting yelled at until they finally hang up. Your head is down, and you're holding back tears. When you looked up you nearly jumped out of bed, seeing the large figure that had come into your room. The red hoodie was a dead giveaway. Jason stepped in and set the bag down nearby.

“What happened?” He asked, not bothering with a greeting.

“Car accident… don’t quite remember. I swear I was driving on the right side, and I tried to move out of the way, but…” you trailed off.

“At least you’re alive.” He pointed out.

“Yeah so I can get medical bills, foster parents barking at me, no car for the next who knows how long, and now I even have to get a lawyer because the family of the other driver says it was all my fault, and I won’t be able to go to work or go on patrol or even train.” You say, trying to keep the lump in your throat down. The last thing you wanted was to start sobbing.

Jason sits in a nearby chair. “You’ll need more than a couple days.”

“The couple days is just for me to get out of hospital, the rest I can do easily enough.” You say, shrugging. As if shrugging really got rid of the weight of everything. Red Hood needed Echo, they were close to a breakthrough in a fighting and drug ring.

“You need rest.” Jason told you.

“For a couple days, then I’ll be back on my feet. The next load is coming Thursday, I'll be fine by then.” You said firmly, but there was a crack in your voice from emotion. Sidelining is the last thing you want. You’ve worked too hard for him to take you out of the game. Jason is quiet in the chair. It looks like he staring at the floor or the bed but you know he’s looking at you under his hood. You refuse to break.

Jason knows you are though. You’re tired, you’re injured, you have morphine in your blood stream, and financially you’re fucked. When he sighs, you think it’s pointed towards you and your stubbornness. It’s not. He realizes that you’ve been carrying a lot more than he thought. Now he has to call for a favour, one he didn’t want to ask for.

“Kid, right now, you are unfit to fight-don’t interrupt.” He said, holding his hand up, before you could argue. “You’re injured, you’re stressed, and you’ll be distracted. The last thing I want is your death on my conscious because I let you get yourself killed.”

“I don’t need to be sidelined.” You said, your voice breaking.

“You’re being benched for your own good. When you’re ready to get back into the game, I’ll pull you in. Don’t rush it but don’t waste time.” Red Hood ordered. You nodded. It’s a bit of a relief, since you haven’t had much time for regular life, let alone time for yourself.

“How long do I have?” You asked. Of course you wanted to be on a time limit. Jason did it to you for a lot of your training, whether it was posting up or reaching a checkpoint.

“Knowing shit like this, it will take maybe a week or so until you’re out of here.” Jason thought out loud.

“Then I have to get a lawyer which is a week or so, I have enough money… I should. I can do that while I’m recovering, and then I have work, and my side job. Chores, extra because I’ll be away. Then getting my vehicle repaired which will take a while…” your voice broke again thinking about the work you had after you leave the hospital.

“Hey.” Jason said. You looked up at him and it’s the first time you’ve seen his eyes. They were more natural than you thought. For some reason you thought they’d be red or maybe yellow. “This isn’t a fight, focus on what’s in front of you. I’ll give you a month.”

“I won’t need a month.” You said, take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“You’re getting one. Consider it mandatory vacation or something.” Jason said.

You want to thank him, and hug him but you’re a little incapable. The relief is massive wave, almost drowning you. You look down at your broken phone, feeling it vibrate.

“Thank you.” You said, the tears finally breaking free from your eyes. You sniffle and wipe at them. “Sorry.”

“Just fucking cry kid. Your life is falling apart it’s a normal response.” Jason said.

You let out a small noise that he thinks is you laughing. You nod, wiping your eyes, and a small smile on your face. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you. You wouldn’t happen to know any lawyers would you?” You asked. Your phone vibrated and you checked it, seeing your friend had replied, saying he was close by.

“Recover for the first while, then worry about a lawyer.” Red Hood said. Jason notices you smile at your phone, and takes it as his cue to leave. “Rest. I’ll be in touch.”

Jason gets up, leaving the backpack. Once he steps into the hallway he sighs. He doesn’t want to make this call, he really doesn’t. But you’re his partner, his apprentice. Hell, you’re basically his Robin. Jason had a rough life. You might have what he didn’t, but that didn’t make your life perfect. He’d been pulled out of that struggle and sure it wasn’t perfect, but it was at the very least decent.

Once he’s out of the hospital, he dials on his phone. He didn’t want to but with the bs justice system Gotham has, you would need some help.

“Alfred?” Jason said, hearing a familiar older voice on the other end. “Is Bruce there? I need to talk to him.”

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving

[hanihazeljade]

TikTok Tim

TikTok has been a blast and of course, Richard has been bothering Tim to make an account for siblings bonding. But Tim got himself a newfound confidence and a new way to irritate the people around him.

(CW: thirst traps, TikTok, possible femboy content, swearing)

"Can we just talk about Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne?" A TikToker with million followers said, "Like this dude is seventeen turning eighteen in like 3 months and what he done in his almost 18 years of existence?" It showed a screenshot of a headline way back when he was attending grade school that he skipped two grades, "He skipped 2 years in school and even though he dropped for two years, because some tragedy happen in his life, he still managed to graduate high school the same year in his age range." Which is true, but with all hacking the school systems, he graduated.

"And I also discovered that he is emancipated from his foster parent, Bruce Wayne. Like at first it was insane because you got the Wayne to finance you but look at him, he is one of the biggest shareholder in the Wayne Enterprise and he already got so many praise especially from Lex Luthor," and then screen showed a clip of Lex saying, "I commend the young Drake-Wayne, even he doesn't have any degree in business, he knows how to handle one unlike some people that I know that have bachelors degree. But if you think about it, it must be in his blood after all his mother is Janet Drake, that woman is the scariest socialite in Gotham." And the screen turned back to the TikToker, "Dude doesn't have any degree yet get a praise from Lex Luthor? He is a genius I tell you." and with that the TikTok video ended.

It all started with that one video on how perfect and genius Timothy Jackson Drake. And it snowballed to edits, a thirst trap if you will, of Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. One TikTok video and the whole internet has been sleuthing every single picture, video of the new most eligible bachelor of Gotham City. And with that, #tim drake on TikTok have millions of views in span of 2 days. And it also doesn't help that Tim's life has been exposed in the different tabloids since he was a kid, being a member of a elite society especially in Gotham. He doesn't really know and care but with so many people doing a deep dives in his life, it kind of unsettling.

He scrolled again and it was a thirst trap edit. And he decided to exit the app, enough internet for the day.

"Timmmyy." Dick whined as he was begging Tim to make a TikTok account for 1, he can do those trends with Tim and two, he wants Tim to see those thirst traps edit of himself and it has been seven days straight. And Tim's patience has been wearing thin.

"I will, once I finished these reports." he said with no intention of doing it and gonna said that he forgot about it.

"No, do it now. I know your schemes, Timmy." Tim sighed with the insistence, "Then come back here later for you to remind me then."

++++++

"So, my brother Richard has been keep bothering me to make one of this account and apparently, many people tried to make a little clout so I am going to make one to gather all the clout." Tim said with a blank stare but let out a snort at the last part. "I will probably never upload anything again but yep, hope you are happy, Richard." and with that the video ended. 2 hours later after that video got uploaded, his account boomed to 2.3 million and his first video got featured in some internet forums and articles were being published online.

++++++

"And he finally succumbed to the Tiktok." Jason said as soon as he walked to his penthouse and Tim rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing here, oh mighty Jason?" Tim rolled his eyes, sarcasm is dripping to those words.

"I thought you are better than Dick but it seems like I was mistaken."

"Pot. Kettle. Just because I was on the side of edit Tiktok and you are in booktok doesn't make you the top. You are giving pick-me vibes, ngl."

"Did you really just said ngl instead of not gonna lie?"

"Did I stutter?"

++++++

Tim thought it will be cool if he just upload another Tiktok video after months of abandoning his account. He look at the trends and some old trends and he particularly got stuck in the transition videos and he took liking on the one audio edit of Jade West saying, "What's the prob, dog?", and he is a gremlin for a reason.

So, he was there chuckling at himself with the thought of the internet will never know what's gonna hit them.

+++++++

Tim likes to do a little bit of thirst traps in his content but he also like just to gave his audience what he does in his free time whenever he is done reading and signing the needed papers, like typing in his computer or solving a rubiks cube. And he keeps getting millions of views every time and it is such a ego boost for him.

But he also likes the videos with prominent people in United States, most is just him and Lex Luthor doing stupid shits and every time it will happen, both the stocks of WE and Lex Corp is going up and somehow that made both Tim and Lex being close yet hating each other so much.

The Justice League, specifically Superman, is very much annoyed and not happy about Tim's association to one of the prominent villains in the existence. But all Tim does is send them a lip sync video of him with the audio of, "Do I give a fuck? No, not one. How many fucks do I give? Zero. Exactly, so therefore your comment is irrelevant." And he called it a day. He is still fucking salty of about his worst year of his fucking life. He will not going to forgive those assholes when they didn't even apologise.

But somehow the limit of his TikTok freedom is having him doing a thirst trap in a form of being a femboy. Listen. Tim knows he will never be a brickhouse like Jason and Bruce but god forbid his BMI doesn't go up to 20 even in his peak body mass. He was always has been a twink and he also doesn't like that but apparently, that type of body is a perfect "bottom/submissive" material based on the different manhuas he having been indulge himself the past month.

++++++++

Dick was scrolling at his fyp page that was full of animals, gymnastics and Justice League edits - because, and he got in a video of a guy sitting on a red couch doing a simple transition of throwing his black shoe and then changing his casual fit to a more formal attire and it was a smooth transition on Dick's observation and he subconsciously goes to the comments because he wants a laugh at the thirsty comments.

Did anyone notice how smooth that transition is?

Lol, that is a big ass shoes

He is a mighty fine fella

WHY DOES NOBODY IS COMMENTING THAT THE ACCOUNT IS TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE?

Dick blinked once at that comment. And he blinked again. He closed the comments and swipe left. And the comment is right, it take him on Tim's verified account with now two videos.

When did Tim had a 5.6 million followers?!

Tim already on the same following count as him and he was still definitely gonna get more. Dick is now kind off regretting his decision if putting Tim in TikTok.

+++++++

The next month was shown that Tim doesn't have any schedule that follows his uploading, it seems like he upload wether he like. But the ones that broke the internet is the one thirst trap that Tim posted.

Ashley, look at me

Tim made the hand movements for the transition and from the Saint Laurent sweater, it is Jason's, Dick knows because he just saw Jason wear it like two days ago and it was paired with a black slacks and it turns into a oversized silk dress shirt and it looks like nothing underneath and Dick hopes that there is a boxers underneath because God forbids, he will delete Tim's TikTok account. In that video, it showcases Tim's long, pale, scarless legs, which is a fucking lie, he doesn't how Tim did it but that is a fucking lie. And oh boy was the comments are wild.

He is a sugar baby with the money of a sugar daddy

I'm straight but damn

yeah that's it, I'm bi now

I can hit that any time if he hit me up

Wait! I AM CONFUSED

Am I.. into this?

bottom vibes ngl

Dick stops reading the comments. TIM IS HIS LITTLE BROTHER! Sure he's nineteen but Dick felt uncomfortable looking at his brother's thirst trap, that he made himself. He immediately message Tim to stop posting thirst traps and Tim just reply with, 'Well, you have to face the consequences of forcing me to this damn app'.

He will be damned, he thought.

[keresnotceres]

Say You’re Mine (Good, Good, Great pt 2)

Ghost x Fem!Reader

[nsfw] cw(s): rdr is being a slut again, jealousy, possessive undertones, SEX, rough sex, oral (m receiving), throatfucking lol, p-in-v sex, ghost getting called ‘big boy,’ unsafe sex oops.

4.7k words In honor of 200+ followers (wtf guys thank u) & by the request of many, I present to you: Good, Good, Great pt2 :) This is just shameless porn with an egregious amount of plot. Enjoy my lovely dovies <3 (Also Ghost has a short refractory period for uh,, plot reasons).

A few months after his jealousy at Myth, Ghost gets sent on leave. When he arrives home at 12 AM on a Friday night, he promptly decides to pay you a little visit at work. You, however, are once again testing his patience (and he doesn’t take particularly kindly to that).

Roughly three months later, you’re working a busy Friday night at Myth, and damn it, you’re making sure that you’re making good money tonight. Flirting was easy; men were easy. Just making them think you were the least bit interested did wonders for your tips. Sure, you didn’t make as much as the girls on stage, but it was pretty damn close to it.

You made your way downstairs after taking a few orders from assorted tables upstairs, going to the servers closet to ring them into the system when the hostess scurried over and told you about a party of 8 at Center Table 3 before skittering on back to the stand to greet another guest or five. After putting your tables’ orders, you began to prepare yourself for the nightmare that this 8-top was about to be.

It was only 10 PM, and you had hope they wouldn’t stick around until closing. As you make your way through the sea of customers on the first floor, you spot the table; even better, you spot the perfect person to flirt-till-you-die with.

He was rather young, maybe 21 or 22, and looked like he would see white if you even smiled at him. He came in with some sort of bachelor party, and you were expecting the worst sort of groom-to-be and his just-as-bad groomsmen. Your target looked the most frightened to be there, like if he said the wrong thing he would be thrown to the curb; which meant he was the perfect man to squeeze some money out of. The men around him would probably cheer him on for getting special attention.

You walk over to the table with a smile etched onto your face, swaying your hips just enough to be noticeable, and put a small bounce into your steps. You stop next to the man at the head of the table and wait for the group to quiet from their unnecessarily in-depth conversation about their favorite actresses.

“I’ll be taking care of you guys tonight,” you introduce yourself. “Can I get you guys started with a bottle or are you looking for something by the glass?” You look down at the man you’re next to, tilting your head a bit.

He looks up to you, not even bothering to hide the stare he gives your tits. “What beers do you have here?”

You nod a bit, launching into the list. “We have Budweiser, Guinness, Foster’s, Carling—” The man put his hand up to stop you, making some sort of interrupting noise.

“I’ll take a Foster’s,” he says blandly. He gestures to another one of his friends to order, head swiveling back over to the stage as a dancer makes her way on. If you didn’t want to take a glass and shove it up his ass at that moment, the following hours of their presence would definitely make you want to.

You stretch your lips into the kindest customer service smile you can muster and look at the next man. When you get to the last drink of the table, the poor man you were planning on hitting in til’ he couldn’t see straight, you step closer.

“And what can I get you?” You make your voice just a little bit sweeter and lean down a bit.

His eyes dart from your face to your breasts, then dart back up. “A whiskey sour,” he blurts out, tacking on a quiet ‘please’ as a second thought.

“Of course,” you smile at him, then look up to the rest of the group. “I’ll be right back with those drinks.” You turn away, and as you’re walking towards the servers closet, you can hear some cheers and a catcall from the table.

Once you’re in the server's closet, you drop the painfully plastic smile and fish a coworker’s Elfbar from the pile of check books and pens on the table below the kiosk. As you enter drink after drink, you take a hit from the vape, letting the nicotine take the place of smacking your head against the wall repeatedly.

You send the final drink, a fucking whiskey sour of all things, and groan. Another bottle girl comes speeding into the server’s closet, a sour look on her face.

“What’s it today, Mel?” You ask, eyebrows raised as you lean against one of the walls.

Mel looks at you disgruntled, like she was about to lose her shit. “My table just tried to order five espresso martinis and then got mad at me when I said we couldn’t do them tonight.” She taps a few buttons of the kiosk rather aggressively. “Then proceeded to ask for an extra strong vodka cran, but to only be charged for a single.”

Mel taps on the mixed drink button, then on the vodka button, then cranberry, then double. “Fuck her,” she hisses, taking the Elfbar right out of your hands.

It’s only after she takes two hits from it that she asks whose it is. You don’t know either.

The night continues like that, with Mel being perpetually pissed off at a table and you staving off the urge to bash your skull in with a vaguely blueberry smelling vape.

When the clock hits midnight, you don’t have the Cinderella moment that some part of you wishes you could have. You don’t get to rush home, fall asleep, then wake up to your prince charming searching for you. No, of course you don’t.

Instead, you get the worst hit from someone’s cart that leaves you fighting for your life and, much worse, the nightmare bachelor table waving you down.

“What can I help you guys with?” You look around the table, waiting for someone to speak up.

One of them takes one for the team, finally. “We wanted to get a bottle of something, but Nick here decided to wave you down before we figured out what to get.” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the man you decided to target.

So your victim's name is Nick, huh?

You put a hand to your mouth and force out a laugh; a man likes it when you laugh at things he says. “It’s alright, I don’t mind waiting for you to decide.” Your eyes flicker to Nick, meeting his for a fleeting second.

It was almost too easy.

You smirk at him, putting on your best charm. “Since you gave me the false alarm, how ‘bout you buy me a drink?” A few of the guys at the table chuckle, as expected. You take the opportunity to walk up to him, getting closer.

You put your hand on the back of his chair, leaning your body weight into it, your fingers facing him. Nick looks up at you like a girl looking up at some ugly guy she’s giving a blowjob to, and it takes everything in you to give him a simple, sultry smile in response instead of a fit of laughter.

You look over to the groom-to-be, waiting for him to decide on the table’s bottle. And then you see a familiar jacket in the corner of your eyes, with a familiar build and a familiar surgical mask covering half of a very familiar face.

God damn, Simon Riley might just be everything you needed tonight.

Once again, he didn’t even bother to call to tell you he was coming home. You couldn’t stay mad at him for long, though. The rational part of your brain blue-screens, leaving only the work-oriented brain and the stupid slut brain left. And the work-oriented part of your brain wants to make good money, so that’s exactly what you’re going to continue doing.

There’s something about fucking with Simon that thrills you. Maybe it’s the fact you know you’ll get something good out of it, or maybe you’re just a little messed up in the head.

You look away from Simon and swivel your head back down to the poor soul you’ve chosen to pay off your car insurance. Your hand shifts so that your fingertips rest gingerly on Nick’s shoulder, and boy does it do wonders.

His look of ‘blowjob innocence’ morphs into ‘holy shit a woman is interested in me’ and some of his friends croon oohs, another whistles. You peel your eyes away from Nick and look to the groom, “have you decided on a bottle?”

He looks over at you from the bottle menu with unfocused eyes. “We’ll do, uh, a bottle of Jameson and,” he squinted back at the menu, then looked at a friend. “What vodka did you want?”

The friend looks up from his lap, his illuminated face darkening. “Oh,” he leans over to look at the menu, then looks at you. Or, rather, he looks at your tits. “Grey Goose.” You fight the urge to raise your eyebrows and question him, but manage to smile politely and nod.

“I’ll bring those right down for you boys.” As you leave the table, you let your fingers trace Nick’s shoulder lightly. Your gaze slowly finds Simon when you turn away, and he simply stares at you, his usual bourbon nestled in a hand.

With a cheeky smile on your face, you skitter over to Simon to greet him.

“Hi there,” you croon, “what’s a big boy like you doin’ here?” Simon gives no hint at a change in attitude, you don’t even see a single hint that he’s smiling under the mask. You pout at him, “at least say hi.”

His eyes are unusually steely, like they had been months ago during his surprise visit. “Stop touching him.”

Your faux pout melts into a grin, “jealous?” You ask, stepping forward. “Again?”

He looks away from you, eyes flicking to the dramatic scene of some random movie playing on one of the bar TVs. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You lean into him, breasts pressing up against his bicep. “Come on, big boy,” you goad, “no need to act nonchalant.”

He lifts his arm to push you off, not even bothering to look at you. “You heard me,” he says, “don’t touch him again.” His words only push you to question him further, if anything, they make you want to get more handsy with — what was his name? Nate?

“Or what?” You press, cocking your head to the side to catch his eyes again. “You gonna kill him?” Simon’s eyes flit to you, flashing with some sort of challenge.

His eyes bore into yours, “maybe.” His gaze moves away from you again and his free hand slips up to pull down the surgical mask and take a sip of bourbon.

His lackluster response leaves you itching for more. You huff at him and slink away to the server’s closet to put the two bottles on the bachelor party’s tab. You trudge up the stairs to the second floor, eyes sweeping over the chattering people at tables.

You grab the two requested bottles from the upstairs bar before visiting a few of your tables on the second floor, checking in with a sweet smile before heading back down to the bachelor party. You give your poor cheeks a rest as you bounce down the stairs, your face falling into a bored resting face before it stretches right back into that damn customer service smile that you managed to perfect over the years.

You pass by Simon on your way back to the bachelor party, his eyes give you a brief warning before they flick back to the TV screen. It only makes you want to make him mad.

After you’ve set the bottles on the table and brought over new glasses (including a few shot glasses) for their liquor, you go right back to flirting with whatever-his-name-is. Your hand rests fully on his shoulder as you chat with the table, paying special attention to Nigel (or was it Nico?).

You can practically feel Simon’s eyes burning a hole through you as you do so, and it makes you wonder just how much he really cared about this little stint of yours. Nevertheless, you let your victim of the night continue to think he’s special, you even get roped into feeding him a shot of the Grey Goose.

Nick (you were reminded of his name by one of his friends goading him into taking shots) starts to get more handsy with you, to which you kick it up a notch. As you gently hold the shot glass up to his lips, his hands snake up and rest on your hips, keeping you in place as his friends count down until he has to take the shot.

You lean forward with the shot glass after someone shouts ‘zero,’ basically shoving your tits into his face as he took his shot of top-shelf vodka. You congratulate his semi-decent shot taking skills in an effort to make yourself seem like you really like him.

“Good job,” you purr, hand raising to stroke his hair once before falling back to your side. “Took that so well.” When you step away, the man looks like he’s in a stupor.

You turn to look at Simon with a cheeky smile engraved on your lips, only to receive a very pointed glare.

When the bachelor party finally leaves at around 1:30 AM, after what feels like for-fucking-ever, you wander over to the table to pick up the check. Your flirting really paid off.

A tip of £200 on a bill of roughly £600 — almost a 35% tip. Making money off of men was ridiculously easy. Even better, you finally get to go the fuck home! You silently thank your manager for not giving you the closing shift and get your shit before anyone can pester you to stay longer.

Simon’s waiting for you at the door, staring straight through you as you make your way to him with your work bag slung over your shoulder. He doesn’t make any effort to speak, and you’re frankly a bit too burnt out to comment on it. You pass him your car keys, unwilling to drive after your nightmare shift.

The drive home is quiet, not even the cheesy radio music breaks the silence despite the volume being on level 30.

As soon as he pulls into your parking space of the building lot, he turns the car off and flings your keys back over to you. You amble into the building,

Simon’s hands are on your waist before you can even put your keys down, you barely register that the door shuts behind the two of you as his fingers dig into your hips.

You snicker at him, “you weren't jealous, huh?” Simon doesn’t respond verbally, just hoists you into the air and puts you over his shoulder like you weigh absolutely nothing.

His reaction is nothing he hasn’t done before, but there’s a heat in your abdomen that tells you that you’re going to call out of work tomorrow. Well, that, and the fact that Simon’s had a hard on for the entirety of the drive home and you really wanted to fix that problem for him. Bottom line is, you’re horny, he’s horny, it’s going to be a long fucking night.

It’s what you needed after around 7 months without being stretched out by Simon. It’s what he needed after watching you get touchy with someone who wasn’t him. If you didn’t end up sprawled out on Simon’s bed, incoherently moaning words as he fucked you dumb in 30 minutes, you were both going to have an issue.

As expected, when he got to the top of the stairs, he turned right instead of left, going into his room instead of yours. His room was mostly untouched, the comforter a little crumpled from the time you passed out on it after taking one too many blinkers a few weeks ago (you’ve found you really like being in his room when you aren’t sober).

He shuts the door behind him and drops you on the bed on your back, further disheveling the dark gray comforter. You push yourself up onto your elbows, encouraged by the rustling of Simon’s belt coming undone.

“Get on the floor,” he tells you, “on your knees.” You make an absentminded noise in response and shuffle to the end of the bed, sliding off with relative ease. He tells you to do something else, but you’re too absorbed in your own world to hear him.

Simon walks towards you, hand resting atop your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he sits down on the edge of the bed in front of you. “Not fuckin’ listening to me anymore, huh?” His grip on your hair tightens and he moves your head back and forth.

“You’ll fix that tonight, yeah?” He eyes you like a man starved, you can’t find the words to speak, nor can you move your head under the grip he has on your hair. He seems to take your silence as a ‘yes.’

Your eyes roam to his torso, to which part of you is disappointed by the presence of his shirt. Then, you look further down to the very obvious tent in his briefs. Your head goes to move closer on instinct, but Simon holds it back.

You struggle against his hold for a few seconds before sighing and giving up, looking up at him with a frown. He looks down at you, a cocky smirk adorning his lips.

“You need to learn patience,” he grumbles, pushing your head to the side and retracting his hand to move the waistband of his underwear.

Your head returns to its original position almost immediately, anticipation coursing through your body. You’re basically salivating at the thought of having Simon down your throat.

In all honesty, Simon should be grateful you were taught manners at a young age, because otherwise you would’ve slapped his hand away the second his head popped out of the dark fabric and taken him all for yourself.

In substitute, you shuffle closer to him, knees scratching against the carpet.

Simon pulls his cock out, finally, and gestures for you to have your way. You pounce on the opportunity, hands flying up from your sides. One settles on his thigh as a support as the other slips down, thumb pressing against the tip. You can feel Simon jerk under you from the contact, and it only makes you dart forward and press your closed lips to the side of his cock.

You part your mouth and flatten your tongue against him, dragging it upwards until you reach the head again. You let your mouth part further and take him in slowly, teasingly.

Simon’s hand grips your hair, pushing your head further down on his cock. A low groan escapes his throat as you take him in your mouth and his fingers twitch in your hair.

He bucks his hips up, watching as you take all of him in diligently without even so much as gagging. He doesn’t expect anything less from you. He keeps an even pace until the need gets to him, until the haze ends and he remembers why he has you on your knees; why he’s not supposed to be nice and even.

He picks up his pace, rutting into your mouth quicker than you can take, leaving you gagging on his cock as he holds your head in place. Your moans turn staccato, the sound of Simon’s balls slapping against your chin falls behind your stifled gagging. It’s a rhythmic disaster, but fuck, it’s music to his ears.

At some point, he stops thrusting into your mouth and simply pistons your head up and down his cock with a hand. You’re nothing but a drooling mess, looking up at Simon’s face through your eyelashes, blinking through tears. He appears to be the polar opposite of you. His eyes are calm and his lips are settled into a thin line; the only thing that lets you know he’s relishing in this is the twitching of his cock down your throat and the low groans he lets out occasionally.

That is, until his jaw sets and his grip on your hair gets tighter. His other hand takes a fistful of your hair as well and holds your head in place again, his hips thrusting forwards and retracting faster than you can even react to. Your hands fly to his thighs, nails digging into the denim as he ruthlessly ruts into you. You’ve given up on trying to breathe.

Simon’s mouth opens slightly, a shuddered breath tumbles out and your lips quirk up ever so slightly. “Fuck,” he hisses, dull fingernails scratching your scalp in a mind-numblingly good way. He bucks into you harshly, then again, and a groan feathered by pants fills the air as cum drips down your throat.

His cock is heavy on your tongue as he pulls out and you’re quick to dart back to it and lick small beads of cum off head. His torso spasms at the action and his hands yank you back by the hair. You whine, trying to wriggle loose of the iron grip the man has on you, but stop once he lets go.

Through labored breathing, he tugs you off of your knees and pulls you up to him. He falls back onto the bed, taking you down with him. You quite enjoy straddling over him, breasts dangling below you as your hands press into the mattress on either side of his head.

You give him a stupid smile, “out of breath, big boy?”

He scoffs at you, the only evidence that he just came in your mouth is his lack of a boner. “Don’t say things you’ll regret, love.” The pet name sends a swarm of butterflies to your stomach, (rather, your ovaries). His hands come out of nowhere, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back, suspending you in the air over him. “Don’t think I forgot what you like,” he muses, “what a slut.”

His eyes gloss over you, when he gets to your skirt and fishnet tights, he frowns. “Told you to take ‘em off,” he mutters, moving so that both of your wrists are held in just one of his hands. It’s both a blessing and a curse that he’s built like a tank. His free hand snakes down and tugs on the edge of your skirt, making you splutter out a few words of warning.

“Let me undo it,” you plead, “you’ll break it.” He looks at you unimpressed as you try to get him to not ruin your favorite skirt. He relents, miraculously, and maneuvers you to straddle over his thighs. You don't bother trying to take your time as you undo the inner clasp of your skirt before unzipping it. Your right hand grips his as you shift your weight onto your right knee while the left hand pulls the skirt off of you, then vice versa.

Simon’s patience runs thin when it comes to your fishnets, and pushes you down onto his chest by the shoulders. With your ass in the air, he simply rips the fabric until he’s satisfied. Now you’re even more horny, but you also have a giant hole in the crotch area of your only pair of fishnets.

He makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and an appreciative noise. “Better.” His fingers brush over your underwear, letting out a quiet laugh at the damp fabric. Your hips jerk against the ginger touches from his hands, making him pull his hand away.

A whine breaks through your throat, your lips pulled down into a pout. His eyes flick to yours, the look sending shivers of ecstacy down your spine.

“You don’t deserve that,” he murmurs. “Come on, you know the rules.”

You give him a pleading look, eyes straining to see his from your face-down ass-up position. “Please?” You know it won’t work, his resolve is entirely too strong to be folded by the likes of your begging.

You get your answer as he grabs you by the waist and tosses you to the side. Faster than you can even make a remark at, he’s looming over you, hips trapped between his knees, dog tags dangling down.

“Don’t try to beg,” he chastises, voice low. A hand moves your soaked underwear to the side and he gently presses his tip against your pussy. It’s nothing but a tease, but it has you squirming for more, and there’s a vicious little grin on Simon’s face that sparks something in you.

He doesn’t bother to warm you up, and, really, you would’ve been frustrated by having his fingers stretching you out rather than his dick. Is that a safe sexual practice? No; but right now, you didn’t care about that, you just wanted to get dicked down.

After what feels like an eternity of teasing (in reality, likely just about five minutes), Simon finally pushes the tip of his cock into you. He pauses, then slowly pushes inch after inch into you until he’s balls deep in you and you’re damn near rolling your eyes into the back of your head from the feeling of him.

It had been too fucking long since you felt him inside you, since he stretched your insides to fit his cock so perfectly that he mumbles compliments into your ears when he feels like being nice.

He stays buried inside your pussy and looks you in the eye, another challenge. “You wouldn’t let him do this, would you?” He asks, arms lifting off of your body to cross over his chest. “No,” he responds for you, his hands darting back down to grab your waist. “You’re mine.”

And, oh, that admission sends waves of giddy excitement through your body.

“And I’ll prove it.” It’s a rather ominous statement, but he doesn’t even give you the time to register that before he pulls out from you and slams right back in. Then again. Then again, and again, and again until a rough, even pace is set.

Even, however, is not what you wanted. You wanted rough, fast. You could mumble for him to go faster all you wanted, but Simon wouldn’t budge. If he wanted to, he could go as slow as he possibly could just to keep you frustrated.

But even Simon is only human, and he can’t resist the urge to rut into you with reckless abandon.

His hips jolt against yours, a muttered expletive turns into a pant of ‘fuck’ and barely contained groans as Simon all but slams into you. The sound of skin hitting skin accompanies the noises falling out of your mouth, Simon’s hushed tones, and the bed frames occasional creak to create a melody of pure lust.

You find yourself unable to hold yourself together any longer, thighs twitching and abdomen getting tighter as Simon continues to pound into you like there’s no tomorrow (would it technically be ‘no today?’ It is 2 in the morning, after all). You can’t even bring yourself to form the words before you’re cumming on Simon’s cock while it’s thrusting in and out of you.

A whine builds in the back of your throat, your legs tighten around Simon’s waist, trying to pull him closer into you as the heat builds in your abdomen. One of his hands lifts from off of your waist and runs through your hair.

“I can tell,” he manages to get out through almost undetectable grunts. “You’re barely hanging on, huh?” He’s taunting you. “Go on,” he mutters, shifting just enough for him to rub against you in an entirely new angle.

You make a collection of noises, a moan that devolves into a whimper, and eventually squeaks as Simon continues to fuck you through your orgasm until he eventually starts pouding into erratically, an uneven pace that only gets more and more mind-numbing until he’s pulled out of you and you can feel your lower stomach be painted with his own orgasm.

It’s just seconds later that he leans his head down and presses his forehead to your. A simple, but oh so damning gesture of intimacy. His breath puffs against your face, warm and quick, but you can’t help but lean into the touch.

🍒: @xaestheticalien @clear-your-mind-and-dream @stunkbiggu @abbiesxox @nijiru @lanu-la

[3thansl4ndry]

never felt so alone

pairing - ethan landry x fem!reader

summary - ethan's conflicting emotions come out to play when he realises what he has to do to avenge his brother.

cw - canon violence, intended lower case, angst, character death, swearing

a/n - my first ethan landry fic im so fucking terrified, i kinda hate but also love this.

word count - 1.5k

ethan knew that he didn't want to kill you. his sister, quinn, had picked you out for him, you would be ethan's first real kill following on from what had happened in New York - you would also, as it turns out, be his first real girlfriend.  you were the perfect first kill,  you lived alone;  your parents were killed in a car accident when you were 12, and since they had burned all of their bridges with their extended family members, you were left to the broken foster care system, of which you were released when you turned 18 - it was perfect, ethan would kill you, and no one would miss you. that was the initial plan, until ethan found himself getting attached to you - he didn't actually love you, did he?

he knew he loved you when he realized he couldn't end your life the way that his father and sister wanted him to. he knew that there was no one in your family that would miss you, but he would - he would miss the feeling he got in his tummy when he would fall asleep in your bed with you beside him, he'd often wake up with your arm in his face from the way you sprawled out when you slept, but he never minded. he would miss the way that you make jokes about his geek-ish interests, about how you never understood the order of any of the star wars or the marvel movies he loved - and despite all of your jabs at his interests, you watched every single movie with him, even if you were bored to death, his excitement at the little details made your heart warm.

it was all of these things that made what ethan was about to do all the much more difficult. he really, really didn't want to kill you. but he had to. he had to do it, to finish of his brother's movie and honour his legacy - to try and make his father proud. however, ethan wasn't sure if all of those factors were worth your life. before he could rethink his choices, he crouched down by the wall of your apartment building, holding onto the railing of the fire escape as he pulled out his phone - double checking that his caller id was off, if it wasn't, he wouldn't do it - and called your number.

you looked over at your desk as you heard your phone vibrating, shoving your laptop off of your lap and pushing your duvet off, you got out of bed to go and investigate who was calling you, your brows furrowing as you saw that the number was withheld. you unplugged your phone, letting the cord drop to the floor as you held the device to your ear, accepting the call.

"hello?"

ethan poked his head up, making sure you were focused on the call, but he couldn't think of anything to say to you, opting to stay silent as he tried his hardest to quietly break into your apartment. guilt was starting to eat at him, he had told you he couldn't hang out with you tonight, saying he had econ and he would see you the next day to make it up to you, even though he knew that the likelihood was that you would be bleeding out by the next day, dead in your apartment.  when you heard nothing but radio silence on the other end of the line, your heart rate picked up, along with your adrenaline levels - you had seen a lot of horror movies, and claimed you would be smarter than any of the girls that they portrayed in them, this was the moment that you know that all of that was out of the window.

"This isn't fucking funny," you scolded the person on the other end of the line, you didn't have time for childish bullshit like this. you turned around, swallowing hard as you saw the figure of a ghostface standing on your fire escape, the dark figure illuminated by the streetlight and the light provided by the moon. acting fast and on your pure adrenaline, you reached for the knife you kept tucked in between your mattress and bedframe, gripping it tightly in your hands. you jumped back as the figure threw themself through your bedroom window, smashing the glass into pieces as they fell to the floor with a grunt before quickly picking themselves up before charging at you. you sprinted out of your room and down the hallway, where the masked person followed you to. "What do you want?" you tried your hardest not to show how terrified you truly were.

ethan knew that you were scared, but he wanted this over with. he would make it quick for you, hell, maybe he'd even tell you it was him, maybe it would make it hurt less, but there was something not right, he watched as your fear turned into...excitement? what was going on? he moved towards you, only to be met with a picture frame smashing over his head, the glass shattering as it fell to the floor.

"stay the fuck back. i'm warning you," you waved the knife in front of the ghostface's mask, noticing they had dropped their weapon in your attack. "you think you can come in here and just try and kill me? yeah, nice try. the last people who tried that ended up in a car wreck, brake failure." ethan's heart dropped. you had killed your parents? now it all made sense. your reluctance to talk about what had happened was not merely a trauma thing, it was a murder thing. ethan now realised he was now both the prey and the predator, either one of you could be the crime scene in the days following, this was yours and his game now. before he could react, you shoved your knife through ethan's shoulder, forcing him onto the ground, you pushed through his back, driving the knife into the floor of your apartment. acting upon an adrenaline rush, ethan pulled your knife out of his shoulder, anger flooding him - you were going to kill him?

no, he couldn't have that. he had something to prove. suddenly, the entire way ethan felt about you changed - your life to him was no longer of any importance. his anger took over as he discarded the ghostface mask, you didn't deserve to die thinking that he loved you anymore.

"ethan?" your voice waivered. no. no no no no no. ethan, your sweet, dorky, nerdy boyfriend was trying to kill you. you no longer felt as confident as you did, your heart breaking as ethan got up onto his feet, gripping your knife. he chuckled as he pointed your own weapon at you. "no. what...what are you doing?"

"what do you think i'm doing? you think i'd show you my face if i was gonna let you live? oh, you sweet, dumb thing," you were convinced this was another ethan, this wasn't your boyfriend - this was just a monster that possessed his body - he told you that he loved you, no one had told you that before. you trusted him more than anyone in the world. you struggled in ethan's strong grip as he held you, your back to his chest. "you know, i really did love you," he told you. "well, that was until you tried to kill me, bitch."

before you could react, he drove the knife into your stomach, twisting the offending weapon as he plunged the knife further into your abdomen.

"ethan! please stop!" you begged him, your hand covering his as it held the knife which stuck out of your stomach. you screamed as he dragged the blade up your torso, cutting into and slicing through your intestines. "please! i love you!"

he started to feel guilty again. but he had committed now, what would you say at the hospital if he let you go? the police would take a statement, you would stick him into the cops. no, he had to follow through now. he pulled the knife out of your stomach, and took a minute to look at your blood on his hands - bright red and a stark contrast against the paleness of his hands, the blood loss from the stab wound on his shoulder. ethan held you up since you had started to slump, the life draining out of you along with all of your blood. he jerked you back before plunging the knife into your chest repeatedly, you didn't have it in you to beg or plead anymore, blood trickling out of your mouth as your boyfriend made hole after hole in your torso. feeling you go limp, ethan dropped your lifeless body onto the floor, still bleeding out from the holes in your chest and stomach.

ethan watched you lay there, blood spilling out from your body and onto your white carpet. his heart broke this time, the realisation of what he had done hitting him. he had killed you, and you loved him, you trusted him and loved him, and he did this to you.

[aria-ashryver]

SICSIG vs ID2

okay WHO at PB has been reading SICSIG?? 💀 BC I'm gonna need you to make triangle poly Cas x Gabe x MC a thing please and thank you (<- ok this is absolutely a joke, i'm just so happy so many things I included in my longfic have coincidentally lined up with canon!)

The Ley Lines / Ley Energy has an awareness of its own

Vampire Hunters return to Crimson Beech

And Libby is one of them?? (ok thats not confirmed, but I hope its true. Bc why is she all suspicious and remembering stuff? Pls be a hunter 🙏)

Sun poisoning comes on in stages of increasing intensity

There were survivors of the attack on Flagstone Cove

SPECIFICALLY EIGHT OF THEM (this one's just weird!)

Training sessions with the Coven Elders

The O'Rinn's bloodline is gifted - they can have premonitions (among other things)

Wait, Witches are real? Yeah! Vampires are too!

Cas was "bounced around" the foster care system as a child

(cw child abuse mention, death mention)

Gabe Adalhard loses his virginity to MC

(cw sex mention)

Daydreaming about their future together: Poly Edition

Luca

Gabe

Cas

[runningw-thewolves]

List of random crap I associate with Angrboda

- Femme fatale characters (I am also including Jessica Rabbit even though she’s a subversion of this character archetype)

- Tom Lehrer’s “Masochism Tango” (though I do have it on a Loki and Sigyn playlist as well)

- That scene from Addams Family Values where Morticia and Gomez are dancing and Morticia casually throws a knife at Gomez.

- Doing a witchy cackle for the Hell of it cause it’s fun

- “Bombastic side-eye. Criminally offensive side-eye.” Also; “stank face.”

- That “Fuck it all” parody of “Let It Go”

- The Song “I’ve No More Fucks To Give” by Thomas Benjamin Esq.

- Fall Out Boy’s “I Don’t Care”

- P!nk’s “So What”

- DAGames’ “Fuck Yourself” (CW for WW2 slur about the Japanese)

- The Song “Fuck this shit, I’m out”

- Self-empowerment songs (e.g. “WANNABE” by ITZY)

- Outfits that make you feel yourself. Like you look in the mirror and it just clicks, and you think you’re a hot piece of ass or elegant as Hell or cute to the point of dying.

- Everytime Chilli gives Bandit her “Excuse me!?” look in Bluey (do NOT fuck with a bitch who knows what she’s doing)

- Inclusive femininity, punching TERFs and Nazis and Pro-Israel cunts.

- Spreading awareness about MMIWTS (murdered and missing Indigenous women and two spirit)

- Women’s wrongs movies (e.g. Carrie, Lisa Frankenstein, Bride of Chucky etc)

- To quote Hell’s Belles; “Do it scared.” You’re afraid to do something? Then do it scared.

- Owning your power, cause damn it you are wonderful and loved and worthy.

- Scary dog breeds - because they are actually just silly goofballs with gummy smiles. Look at this and tell me how it is scary. I’ll wait.

- Fighting against breed specific legislation.

- Raising awareness about the problems with the foster care and adoption systems, childhood trauma, generational trauma etc.

- Utilising the “block” button.

- Tom Cardy’s “Hey, I Don’t Work Here”. (I feel like the last chorus is pretty much what she’d tell Odin if given the chance.)

[colorfulcowboykingdom]

Guess who's trying to write a post-island story (long post)

CW just incase: Mentions of depression, vague mention of death and trauma

**Note, I'm not good at writing characters, nor am I good at telling stories, tell me any changes I can make to this story Also, the descriptions are very vague because this is just the draft of it**

Over-run:

• Boys leave the island on May 23rd, 1953

• After being rescued from the island, the boys are sent to the hospital to have their injuries checked. Many boys families have either died, or have no way of finding there kids again so they stay at the hospital for a few weeks

• The boys are sent to the foster care system, some stay for a few weeks, and some stay for months or years

• If a boy was taken in by a family, they would either move to a different city or move to a different country, but most stayed in England

• The boys have trauma from the island and are either sent to boarding schools for troubled kids or go to therapy instead

• Some of the boys go back to the schools they had been in before (like the choir)

• Few boys partake in interviews about their time on the island (especially Ralph)

• Horrible things ensue after they get back, and things get worse during high-school

Now onto the characters in the story!!! (for now)

Ralph

• Spend 2 months in the foster care system, gets adopted by a new family (father is presumed to be dead, or either away from the country)

• Being in foster care messes him up a bit, conditions aren't good, he refuses to eat most of the food given to him, very agitated at this time, very jumpy and disconcerted.

• He has a hard time getting used to his new surroundings

• Very uncomfortable with his new family and finds it difficult to form a healthy bond with them

• His family thinks that if he talks about his feeling he"ll feel better, and might open up more. But we will not open up to his family about what happened, they try there best to help him but be won't budge

• Even though he doesn't like the idea, he's forced to go to therapy because his family thinks he needs to open up about his feelings and thoughts (also because he won't talk about anything with his family)

• He decides to pick up a diary and writes in it when he can't physically communicate with people (this becomes important for the plot)

• Therapy doesn't help, so he's sent to a boarding school instead (this doesn't help either)

• Graduates in 1959 ( gets held back one year, so he was supposed to graduate in 1958)

• Goes to college, drops out of two different ones due to troubles

• Settles down in his third college and meets Maurice (very unlikely but oh well)

• He hates his guts at the start but finds that he's starting to form a type of bond with him and gets very confused on why

• Few months pass and he meets other people from the island and it sends him to a downwards spiral

• Major survivals guilt

• Acute trauma (an isolated or single event that causes an individual to be traumatized)

• Very depressed

• Night terrors

• Dies in 1960 (will disclose how later...maybe)

• His diary is published as an autobiography by his foster family, this causes a documentary to be made about the island as things that haven't been told before are exposed and cause some outrage

Jack

• Spends one month max in the foster care system, his family is still in England and get called to get him out of the system

• Things are worse for Jack back home, his family has become more neglectful towards him and full on abandon him

• Due to lack of care from his family, he slowly depends on any form of attention wether it be positive or negative

• Develops mommy and daddy issues (damn!)

• Back at school, the choir disbanded and barely any of the members talk to each other. Almost everyone avoids Jack (except for Roger and, to an extent, Maurice)

• His parents don't even think to get him therapy, they send him to a boarding school for troubled kids. He's very afraid of being alone at this time, but luckily he meets Roger there so he isn't alone (There relationship is not healthy)

• There relationship can be described as codependent, and very one-sided

• Roger splits with Jack and it devastates him, he goes into a depressive episode for a few months

• Able to graduate in 1958, goes to college and somewhat gets better (then he meets Ralph, so not for long)

• Comes back in contact with some of the choir members, he only succeeded in getting in touch with Roger and, later on, Maurice

• Complex trauma (multiple traumatic events)

• Pushes the island trauma to the back of his mind to try and forget about everything, but it doesn't work

• Believes he's being haunted by Simon's ghost because he has nightmares where Simon appears most of the time

• Also depressed

• Finds out about Ralph's death and goes into another depressive episode for a span of 7 months

• He's included in the documentary after Ralph's death and has a copy of Ralph autobiography

This is all I have for now, I will post another part of Maurice, Roger, and Robert soon (may not be today)

[chas3supremacist]

father figure.

Pairing/s: James Wilson x Platonic!Doctor!Reader

Summary: Wilson's favourite oncologist struggles with POTS.

Request:  Anonymous asked

hi omg i love that you're writing platonic house fanfic! if you're taking requests can i rq like platonic greg house and/or james wilson with a reader who has a chronic illness/pain

Word Count: 612 Words

CW: none I think! Let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Okay. Here goes nothing - also here goes my first house pic! I don't love or hate this, my biggest apologies to the anon who requested this pic - A lot went down from the time I started writing this until now. Please let me know what you think - Likes, reblogs and feedback is always appreciated!

"Y/N"

You hummed and then groaned in discomfort as you opened your eyes, the harsh white light from the ceiling of the doctor's lounge burning your eyes. You recognized the concern written on the blurry face hovering above you - Wilson, the head of the department you worked in. You sighed, a bit embarrassed that your boss had found you passed out because you had been standing up for too long.

"I'm up," You assured him, trying to wave him and his concern off. Fainting was nothing new for you, especially if you'd gone too long without resting - you were diagnosed with POTS when you were 15 and had tried everything that your doctors had suggested to try and treat it, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that this was going to be something you would need to live with since your diagnosis had been 10 years prior. 

"Are you okay?" Wilson helped you up onto your feet, making sure not to rush you, just in case you fainted again. If you were being honest, Wilson was kind of the closest thing you had to a dad, considering your family put you up for adoption when you were six - citing that you were too much for them to look after anymore. You ended up in the foster care system until you turned 18 and got yourself into a good medical school, powering your way through school despite the struggles that came with your illness. 

"Yes, dad, I'm fine," You joked with him, shooting Wilson a tired, weak smile. He chuckled and shook his head at you, you were certainly...something. But you were one of the best oncologists he'd met, specialising in pediatric oncology, your gentle nature made you extremely likeable among your colleagues. "Don't you have better things to be doing? I'm fine now Wilson," You assured him.

"I know, I'm just making sure. I don't want you fainting again, here, have some water," He handed you a bottle of water, since you were told you had to keep your fluids up and try and avoid sugary foods or drinks all you really drank was water. You took the bottle from him and glared at him jokingly - Wilson knew that you could be defensive about him "looking after you" sometimes, but he guessed that was part of the package of growing up without a real family, you never had one set person care about, if even at all.

But no matter how defensive you were - Wilson would never judge you for it. You had your reasons for it; but you would never admit to him, or even yourself that part of you found comfort in your head of department looking out for you in the same manner you wished a father had when you were growing up. You knew that he cared about you - Maybe even more so than some of the other doctors on your ward, you weren't sure why, you just know that he did.

[the-guilty-writer]

omg i am obsessed with the premise of garcia x daughter!reader. if you have any time in the future to write another fic or head cannon on the pairing (or if you want to ofc !!) it would be so amazing

garcia!daughter reader is one that I struggle with writing so it's one I really only do headcanons for. Here is my headcanon on how garica would end up with a daughter!

CW: criminal minds talk, being orphaned, etc.

Penelope knowing that she would adopt a child from the foster care system if she ever wanted kids.

She's also a person who believes in fate so I don't think would actively seek to adopt a child.

But there's a local case and your parents were unlucky victims. You're sitting in the conference room absolutely terrified.

JJ has tried everything to get you to be comfortable but it's just not happening.

That is, until Penelope walks in wearing her cat ear headband.

She starts talking to you and you start to open up just a little bit.

JJ has to make some calls, so she leaves the two of you, and when she comes back you're wearing Garcia's headband and she's braiding your hair and you're humming to a song together.

The social worker comes and you scream bloody murder when they try to take you away from Penelope.

They try everything, but you're clinging onto her for dear life.

So they make an exception to the rules and let Garcia take you home with her, with the excuse that until the killer is caught you'd be safer with someone who works for the FBI anyway.

For the whole week while the team works the case, she brings you to work with her everyday.

She does our hair every morning, packs you both cute little lunch boxes, lets you play with all her figurines, shows you pictures of cute animals, etc.

And when the team finally catches the unsub, Garcia has this realization that you're going to have to leave.

She's secretly really happy that the social worker decided that after all you had been through, they'd have to work super slow to get you to the point where you could be placed in a foster home.

You've grown really attached to her though so it's snail level slow.

It's been hard for Garcia to adjust to having you but the amount of joy you bring her is insane.

She realizes that she can't imagine life without you anymore.

But she doesn't want to admit it.

Until one day there is a case involving kidnapping young girls and Garcia has worked on some hard stuff but this time is hits her so much harder than before.

You get home from school and she wraps you in the biggest bear hug ever.

"Miss Penny why you hug so tight?"

Tears stream down her face as she says "I'm just happy you're home, little one."

"What happens when they make me go to different home?"

"I'm gonna make sure this is your home now."

You light up for the first time since you parents died.

"Really?"

"Really, little one. Really."

[mariademetal]

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ kitty itadori yuuji / gn!reader ©mariademetal 2024

cw ... yuuji calls reader babe, blood(?) but nothing violent and no vivid description of a wound, if there's anything else lmk note ... haiii welcome to my lil established relationship yuji fic in which he is a stupid cat dad this is HEAVILYYYYY based on my experiences with kittens (every single kitten i've ever owned has shat on my bed once, as if just to get it out of their system before devoting themselves to a litter box) and the many fatal injuries i've received from them..... word count ... 3.1k

At first, you're the one that's apprehensive about bringing the cat home.

It's a little brown thing that ambushes you at the foot of your apartment's stairs, and who was very fun playmate for the first twenty minutes it followed you around, but got to be a little more trouble than you thought it might be worth after locking into climbing you like a tree and tearing a hole in your jeans in the process. At which point, you decided that while your hangout sesh was a lot of fun, it's time for your friend to go back to its mother.

To its fortune, just as you steel your resolution to leave your new friend at the bottom of the staircase on which it first attacked you, Yuuji shows up— of course he does— and decides as soon as his eye catches the claws hanging off of your shirt that he will simply keel over and die if the two of you don't foster the kitten.

"What if her last owners neglected her?" He pleads with you, looking you with the most convincing sad brown eyes you've seen in a moment while he speaks. (All while his new best friend bites his finger like it's made out of something positively delicious.) You're in the worst place in the world for this discussion, you think, still sitting at the bottom of that damned staircase. The fact that Yuuji will have won the moment you move into your apartment with that kitten keeps you in place at the price of your pride.

"Look at how fat she is, Yuuji," you gesture to her, and you can't even remember at what point in your heated discussion it became her. "What if her owners love her dearly and are waiting for her to come home? I'm not going to... catnap her."

"What if her mother died and she's looking for a new one?" He keeps asking these stupid hypothetical, rhetorical questions that prove nothing but still annoy you to no end. Not to mention the way he's cradling her in his arms— you have no doubt that by new mother he means himself.

"We already have a kid," you grit out. By kid, you don't mean an actual child, but rather a betta fish that Inumaki dared you to buy six beers deep and who you, unfortunately, discovered you could not return the morning after, nor ever. Yuuji stepped up as his father when you proved to be a little bit too absent as a single parent to him, and he's alive and thriving to this day, albeit in a tank you doubt is quite the recommended size. "What if she eats Fish? He's my pride and joy."

At this, Yuuji stops and thinks. "Aren't Nobara and Maki looking for a cat?"

"I think so," you hum, and tentatively reach over Yuuji's lap to rub your little enemy's stomach.

"Lets just take care of her until they're ready to take her," he smiles at you, tight-lipped and hopeful. "I'll make sure she doesn't eat Fish. I'll scoop her shit and feed her too."

You take your hand back to allow another tenant to pass between you and Yuuji and lean your head against the railing with a sigh. It's a bad idea and you know it. As much as you'd love to think you and Yuuji are ready to take care of a cat, dedicate the time and care it needs to it, you just can't. But if Yuuji says he'll take care of her just for the meantime, you know he means it. "... Alright. But the second she fucks with Fish, she's gone."

As it turns out, Kitty, as you and Yuuji have intermittently named her to match with Fish, is an only slightly worse roommate than Yuuji. If you were to rank everyone in your apartment by how much you all contribute, it'd go something like this— Fish in first place, obviously, for all the joy he gives you and Yuuji, as well as causing the least mess; you in second, for feeding and raising Fish up; Yuuji in third for cooking and paying the bills; Kitty at dead last for shitting all over your comforter on the first night she stays with you and having the audacity to beg you for food come morning.

Yuuji had prepared in every way he could think of— he bought her a litterbox, plenty of food for kittens, a collar (just until Maki or Nobara take her to get chipped), and enough catnip to plant a field. And, for what it's worth, when you’d first brought her into your apartment, just before Yuuji left to buy her supplies, she was an angel. She was the calmest you'd seen her the whole evening, carefully sniffing the floor of your apartment, sneaking up behind corners, checking for any harm that might come her way. So preoccupied with discovering this new, unknown land that she doesn't even acknowledge Fish's existence. It was only after she'd settled in that he ran to get her kitten things.

Naturally, Yuuji didn't think to check if Kitty actually knows how to use the elegant litter box he'd so diligently set up for her in your bathroom, so where you were expecting to sleep in and wake up to your boyfriend peppering your face with kisses, you instead wake up at the asscrack of dawn to the feeling of him jerking your blanket off of you (and the rest of your bed, you suppose), Kitty watching him from the floor with what you can only describe as morbid curiosity.

"Yuuji, what...?" You croak out, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

Then, the smell hits you, and you're confident you're not falling back asleep.

While Yuuji washes your blanket and lectures Kitty on the proper, sanitary way to relieve herself, you sprinkle some food in Fish's tank.

You stare down Kitty, who, in Yuuji's temporary absence, has taken to frolicking around your flat, as if she isn't a criminal, as if she didn't ruin your favorite duvet, and with a glare that softens by the second, you scoop out a can of cat food into a bowl and put it on the floor for her, despite the fact that Yuuji swore he’d take care of feeding her.

For what it's worth, you have to appreciate that, at the very least, she hasn't so much as glanced in Fish's direction. Despite how vehemently you're denying it at the moment, Kitty is, in fact, tearing and clawing and shitting her way into your heart— but if she does come to stay with you for any extended period of time, you'd rather it be one in which you don't have to constantly move Fish further and further away from her reach in order to keep him safe.

Fish, your first and beloved son— an accident, sure, but the happiest you've made in your life. There have been nights where you have been one dry heave away from throwing up your stomach in its entirety, and the only thing that could get you to stand up and drink some water was Fish, blub-blub-blubbing in his own, urging you with bulbous eyes to take care of yourself (because if you don't, you can't take care of him).

He's a selfish child, but all children are, you suppose. It’s their right.

Kitty finishes her food with a satiated meow and barely makes the three-foot journey to your coffee table before dropping down onto her side and passing out. It's an adorable sight, obviously, but one that also reminds you that that could've been you this morning if only she hadn't emptied her bowels onto your blanket.

Yuuji comes back to your apartment, empty-handed and head hung low, and you already know what he’s going to tell you; “Your blanket didn’t make it, babe.”

All you can do is sigh and throw your arms up. “I’ll pick up another one after work.”

Thankfully, after that fateful morning, Kitty didn’t have many other shit-related accidents. It was incredible, really, how easily she managed to fit into your life, how easily she forced you to carve time out of your day to spend with her instead— she sleeps on your couch since you tragically banned her from your bedroom, wakes you up like an alarm clock, consistently, to give her breakfast, and lazes around your apartment in tandem with you and Yuuji scurrying around to get ready for your respective days. You have class in the morning, he has work, and you always come come back just in time to deliver Kitty and Fish’s lunch. You’ve also found that Kitty has a taste in television— she screams at you whenever you put on Rupaul’s Drag Race, out of excitement or prejudice you can’t quite find out, and curls up into a ball in the crook of your elbow whenever you watch Seinfeld. Then, Yuuji comes back from work and if you don’t have plans, the four of you eat dinner together like a bonafide family.

Tonight, you don’t have plans, but Nobara, who has been promising to call you about Kitty for the past month you’ve had her has finally caught you on your phone.

“Of course I want her,” she insists, and you can see her bob swaying along with her head as she jerks it around in your mind's eye. (You love her dearly.) “It’s just… not a great time for Maki and I.”

Maki and I seems to be her favorite thing to say nowadays— you don’t think you’ve seen one without the other in some months. “That’s fine, but me and Yuuji can’t foster her forever, you know,” At the sound of his name, Yuuji whips his head around to see what you’re doing. Once he clocks who you're talking to, he mouths to you to tell Nobara he says hi. “Yuuji says hi, by the way.”

“Yeah, tell him I say hi too,” Nobara sighs. “We’re moving into Maki’s folks’ place, and I don’t know how they feel about cats and stuff.”

“Maki’s folks’ place is so big I doubt they’ll ever even see her.”

"I'm sorry, but can you just keep her until we're settled in?" Nobara asks with a politeness that's very out of character for her. Then again, if you had to live within a mile of the Zen'in compound, you'd be worn out, too.

It must be a sign from God, from Buddha, from the universe, or maybe just fate that before you have the opportunity to mumble out an uncertain I don't know to Nobara, Kitty wraps herself around your calf. She's gotten so big, you think to yourself— it feels like just yesterday she was small enough to fit in your shoe, but over the month you've fed her and scooped her shit, she's become big enough to play with your shoes.

"Yeah, of course," you splutter out. You press your phone against your shoulder and lean down to pick Kitty up while Nobara chatters away in your ear about gratitude and just hum when she asks you this or that. For a moment, just a moment, you wonder if you should be selfish and keep Kitty for yourself. Then you reprimand yourself, because she's still, for all intents and purposes, Maki and Nobara's cat.

Still, as you come to terms with the fact that Kitty's stay in your apartment will certainly be longer than you originally planned, it seems Kitty comes to the same realization— you and Yuuji discover that she's pointedly decided to make herself entirely at home. She was never well behaved, not really, what with the way she'd pounce on Yuuji whenever he fell asleep on the couch, or the way she'd dig her nails into your thighs whenever your petting skills failed to meet her standards, but it seemed that you, at the very least, had an understanding when it came to respecting the space you're all sharing— your apartment. She didn't scratch your couch, didn't spray litter all over your bathroom, and seemed to ignore fish in his entirety.

Now, though, she's picked up possibly the worst hobby of all— knocking shit off of other shit. Pens off of your desk, detergent off of your washing machine, cups off of your fucking kitchen counter. Yuuji, guilty for anything and everything he is physically capable of being guilty for, has cleaned up after her with a vigilance that you feel genuinely bad about. Unfortunately, he doesn't do it as carefully as you wish, which is why you're picking glass out of his hand with a tweezer at one in the morning after he stumbled out of your room to find what you and him had neglected to put away (what Kitty had managed to knock off of a counter) this time and found out the hard way. By tripping on the culprit in the darkness and falling hands-first onto the scene of the crime.

"Are you sure you can go to work tomorrow?" You ask, voice soft, and Yuuji, who has been smiling since he woke you up with a yelp, finally falters.

"I think I'll be alright," he murmurs back. "Nanami won't be happy, but..."

"When is he ever?" You snort.

"He likes Kitty, too."

"You've shown him pictures of her?"

"Of course! I've shown pictures of her to everyone in the department," he grins, and you can picture him, heavy in his uniform, lifting his phone up to his stoic boss' face with a picture of Kitty, asking Isn't she cute? Then him adjusting his glasses before nodding, Yes, Itadori, she's very cute.

You suppose that's the effect Kitty has on people. Yuuji, too.

He's sitting on the edge of the tub, you're sitting on the toilet seat, paper plate balanced on the sink beside you to drop the fragments of glass onto, Kitty passing and curling around your and Yuuji's feet. It feels odd to say it, but he got off lucky in this situation— only a few pieces of glass burrowed themselves deep enough into his skin to bleed, and the rest are just stuck on the surface. Still, you're pretty confident Yuuji's in a lot more pain than he's letting on.

"Really, Yuuji," you huff, "I think you should stay home tomorrow. Just so the swelling goes down and it'll be less painful the day after."

"It doesn't hurt," he starts speaking with his whole chest, but once he clocks the look you're giving him of complete and utter disbelief, his confidence wanes. "... that much."

"I know you're worried about money, but I'm worried about you," you start, and try not to wince with him after pulling out a particularly deep shard of glass. "And besides, if this gets worse because you went back to work too early, we'll have to pay for that, too."

He hums. "I guess so."

You wrap his hand up diligently, pepper his face with kisses, and shoo him away to your bedroom so you can pick up all the glass on the floor that didn't end up on that paper plate. He calls in sick.

You get through your classes like a zombie being pulled along campus by a leash. As it turns out, staying up until the early morning making absolutely sure that there wasn't any glass left on your floor did not prepare you for success when it was time to leave. Still, Yuuji solemnly swore to spend his day focused entirely on healing, so you achieved one little victory, if nothing else.

When you get home, before you can even grasp the doorknob, you hear Kitty yapping away, Yuuji sniffling, and something being shuffled around your living room. You don't know quite what you're afraid of— an intruder, Kitty growing to the size of King Kong, or Yuuji having shrunk of Kitty's height, but after peeking your head into the door, you can confidently say that it is none of the above. You do, however, see the assortment of Kitty's things gathered right by the door.

You step into your apartment, kick your shoes off, and greet Kitty as she practically jumps into your arms.

"Yuuji?" You call out to him, and realize he's in the bathroom, probably figuring out what the best way to remove Kitty's litter box would be. "What're you doing?"

He walks out of the bathroom, eyes red, bandage on his hand freshly, but messily changed, and his head hung low. "We have to give Kitty up," he says, and you immediately clutch her tighter in your arms.

"What're you talking about?"

He just gestures to where Fish is— rather, where fish should be. His tank isn't just empty, it's gone. You realize what happened.

"Did she eat Fish?" You ask. Your voice is calmer than you really are, but you don't want Yuuji to think you're mad at him for Kitty coincidentally killing Fish the one day he happened to stay home.

"No," he insists, and points to a red Solo cup he's placed on top of your bookshelf. "He's there. She... knocked his tank over. I saved him before he could die, but..."

You look down at Kitty, who is similarly looking up at you— it's like she knows what she did, like she knows exactly what your one condition to let her stay is, like she's pushing the rules just to see what you'll let her get away with before kicking her out. But Fish is not dead, albeit traumatized and certainly not thriving in his temporary home. You realize that you think you'd forgive Kitty if she clawed your eye out. You've been denying your truth— denying that you love Kitty like she's yours, because she is— for far too long.

"I-I remember what you said about only fostering her if she doesn't mess with Fish, and I agreed, so—"

"I don't want to get rid of her," you interrupt Yuuji, and his expression goes from distraught to severely confused.

"No," he insists. At first, you were the one who was apprehensive about keeping Kitty. Now, the roles have been reversed. "She messed with Fish. I get it."

"Yuuji," you say, softer, and walk towards him. You look at his hand and realize he must've worked so hard on his day off, to clean up the glass of Fish's tank, to clean up the water, the decorations, the plants, and how scared he must've been that Fish would die. How scared he must've been that you'd be mad at him. You love him too much for that. "We're not getting rid of Kitty."

"We're not?"

"Of course not. Do you want to?"

"Of course not!" He huffs, and makes a face at Kitty that she must not like, because she takes a swipe at him from all the way in the crook of your elbow.

"So... do you want to tell Nobara?"

"Hard pass."

[vampdes]

— “FOREVER N EVER!” [issac headcanons / facts ♡]

GENRE. headcanons / fluff.

PAIRING. issac [oc] x gn reader

CW. lowercase intended, traumatic past / mentions of [abandonment + being disowned + body shaming] + extra facts about issac.

NOTES. this is so damn late 🧍🏾‍♀️ BUT THATS OKAY, better late than not at all 😭 this took a month [i was on and off bro], ENJOY!! (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

FACTS / HEADCANONS [abt issac <3].

☆ issac loves likes space + his favorite constellation ‘orion’ ‘cause of how bright it is [it also reminds him of u <3] + his favorite planet [in solar system] is saturn!! mainly cause of its rings [hint, hint] <3

☆ issac’s an ex-florist + ex-baker, which he why he likes flowers n baking!! which is why he vows to bake something for you every single day, js so u could be reminded of him 24/7!! n yes, sometimes, if he feels that he hasn’t been getting enough attention, he’ll add some ‘icing’ on the cookies <3 js so u could have some of him inside of u when he’s too busy!!

☆ [brief mentions of abandonment + body shaming] issac was, unfortunately, abandoned by his biological parents, his grandparents, his aunt, and then his foster parents, which converted into severe abandonment issues. everyone tossed him away because of his looks n body. in his younger years, he was called a lot of bad names ‘cause of his weight at the time. n honestly, he expected u to do the same.. but u were different, u are different! u think he’s ‘pretty’ n ‘beautiful’, u even called him an angel for crying out loud!! he loves u so much :(( he js can’t say it cause he gets so nervous!

☆ issac absolutely despises his stutter. can he talk to himself? YES, PERFECTLY. BUT WHEN HE TALKS TO U, ALL OF A SUDDEN HE’S A JITTERBOX!!! he thinks he makes a fool of himself when he talks to u :(( n when he met u for the first time—eugh, he hated it!! not cause u were there, no cause u were there, in front of him.. n u were prettier than ever n he couldn’t even say it!! everytime he wants to say smth nice abt u, he can’t ‘cause he gets to nervous!! its horrible :((

☆ on a happier note, he loves it when u paint his nails :D mainly ‘cause ure holding his hands n ure making him look pretty <3 he also loves when u re-dye his hair 4 him!! he favorite color is, unfortunately, neon green, which is why a strip of his hair is neon green <3 nevertheless, he loves it when u re-dye his hair, mainly ‘cause u wanna touch his hair!! it makes him so happy <33 n when u offer 2 help w his (your) hair care routine, he gets all giddy!! it’s ‘cause of u that his hair is silky n soft now, n he wants to keep it that way ‘cause he think it makes him look pretty <3 n, most important of all, it makes him feel pretty <3

☆ ALSSOOO, he’s a makeup guru. it’s like the easiest thing he’s great at. N YES, URE HIS MUSE ♡ he likes to try makeup looks on u, especially when he gets to straddle u <3 LIKE HE CAN’T GET OVER IT AAA!! n yes, he uses makeup as an excuse to straddle u sometimes [all the time]. ALSOOOO, he’s a gamer. HES LITERALLY SO EMBARRASSED ABT BEING A GAMER!!! he’s a valorant player btw.. he’s also an avid roblox player, his favorite game is royale high ♡

☆ TIME TO TALK MORE ABT HIS EXCELLENT BAKING + FLORAL SKILLS <3 baking: his favorite thing to bake is red velvet fudge brownies!! he absolutely can’t stand dark / mint chocolate tho, but if u like he, he’ll be able to stand it [maybe] <3 floral: his favorite flower is ‘baby’s breath’ ‘cause it reminds him of u <3 in a “it’s really pretty n it shines as brightly as the sun” way!! on special occasions [when u run out of pastries / flowers], he gifts u flowers / baked goods <3 once, he gave u a bouquet of baby’s breath, orchids, n bearded irises <3 n when u were too sick to leave home [thank god, he doesn’t like when u leave honestly!! he misses u 2 much :((], he fixed u some strawberry shortcake <3 [he looked up deserts 4 sick people js to make sure it was safe 4 u 2 eat!!]

☆ EXTRA: he fell in love w u at first sight!! his favorite cuddling position is either spooning [your arms around him] or face-to-chest [his face in ur chest <3.] he also loves having lazy weekdays where all u two do is laze around the house or stay in bed!! makes him feel comfy + secure <3 he also has matching sonic onesies w u [hes tails n ure sonic] but he only wears in on special occasions [ex: date night (when date night’s at home) + when it’s lazy weekdays in the winter <3.] he also loves surprise kisses!! n expected ones <3 he js likes the feeling of ur lips in general!! he also likes when u tuck his hair behind his ear ‘cause it was getting in his eyes <3 he also likes the fact that u like to be a homebody js like he is!! bc then date nights r so adorably mushy <3. LAST THING: issac has an shoulder-to-back + ankle tattoo n if u lightly [almost hesitantly] trace either of the them, u automatically have him melting in ur hands <3!!!

☆.

© CREDITS TO ur1nonlydan. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR COPY MY WORKS.