#did i even answer the question idfk at this point

[birgittesilverbae]

for babea au… how does mary feel about bea falling for lilith? does it frighten her, knowing that no matter how things turn out (if the halo goes to bea or to lilith), one of them will have to watch the other burn bright and then flicker into darkness?

i imagine that makes for some awkward dinner conversation… bea like “hey mo- i mean mary, can lilith come over for dinner?” 😐

and mary like 🤨 “and what topping does the grim reaper herself want on her pizza?”

mary hates it, in the way you hate the spectre that spells your girlfriend's doom, the soldier your girlfriend is fighting so hard to stay alive to protect. she hates looking at lilith and seeing all these potential paths and every one of them filled with nightmare fuel.

every future one where shannon dies young, because shannon has been doomed since before mary met her, because shannon was born to be a sword and a shield and a sacrifice. and sometimes it's lilith with the halo thrust into her back with the ferocity of a knife strike, and it breaks beatrice. and sometimes it's beatrice whose body absorbs the halo like she was built for it, and she dies for it.

but mary would so much rather have a heartbroken child than a dead one, and so she loves lilith for that, for the possibility of safety, of freedom, she represents for beatrice, for those futures where she carries the halo and beatrice mourns her the way mary mourns shannon, the way mary grieves for her even as she burns bright. because mary knows how to handle that, at least, how to help bea through the devastation of loving a warrior nun (they're never yours, they never last). but she doesn't think she'll survive having her kid consumed by the mission, especially not with the presumed algebra of the situation, of having lost shannon to it too

(and bea has lived through shannon getting the halo, has lived through months of mary trying desperately to smother her tears at night, has crept into mary's room and held her tight, all of them far far too young for this. if mary could have her way, she'd drag them all so far from this life, but they're so deeply entangled in it)

all of this translates into mary playing the world's worst parental figure meeting the partner their kid's brought home (cue cleaning already spotless weaponry, cue interrogations about lilith's intentions, cue bea and shannon in the kitchen trying not to burst out laughing as they eavesdrop)

(cue bea walking lilith back up to the convent and kissing her against the outer wall and asking her what her intentions are, really, and lilith, cocky now in the half-dark, without mary staring her down across the table, ghosting her mouth across bea's to reply "wouldn't you like to know")

(cue bea laughing against lilith's shoulder "don't go acting as though you didn't almost need the heimlich when mary asked you that" and cue lilith pressing her up against the wall, thigh between bea's, and kissing her fiercely in a successful distraction)

[aperrywilliams]

Tin Wedding (Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader)

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Author Masterlist | Event Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader.

Summary: You've become friends with Penelope Garcia over the past year, and after much insistence from her, you agreed to visit her at her office one day. What you didn't expect was to run into your ex-husband there. And surely you didn't expect that he - Spencer Reid - is Penelope's coworker.

Word Count: 7.2k (please, stop me!)

Warnings: Yes. I set this one as +16. Mention of Reader being drunk. Curses and some strong words. Mention of sex - oral (m&f). Nothing detailed. IDFK anything about the US marriage and divorce system.

A/N: 2nd Fic for the "We are not gonna make it" writing challenge I was hosting during October with my sis @babymetaldoll. I'm so sorry for the delay, but life has crushed me these past weeks.

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The ding of the elevator signals you are already on the sixth floor. The doors open, and the first thing you see are people going and coming. It's the bustling of a lively office at noon. But this is not just any office; this is the FBI headquarters in Quantico. You never thought you would be in a place like this in your life, but here you are after your friend Penelope convinced you to visit her at work after insisting for weeks.

BAU - Behavioural Analysis Unit reads the glass doors in front of you. This is the place. Looking at the scattered desks on the open floor, you look for a clue that leads you to Penelope.

People walk past you without paying much attention. Maybe you should ask for help. But before you can decide to do so, a voice behind your back breaks you out of your thoughts.

"Can I help you?"

You know that voice. You're sure of that. But wait. It can't be—not after years of not hearing it.

You slowly turn around just to confirm that your suspicions are correct. Standing in front of you is a curious Spencer Reid, who pales when he sees your face. He remembers you, too.

"Oh God, Spencer?"

A stupid question with an obvious answer, but that doesn't take away the surprise of coming face to face with someone you never thought you'd see again in your life.

"(Y/N)? Wow..."

Time has passed, you tell yourself. Spencer looks more grown up. His hair is a little shorter, and he doesn't look so skinny anymore; it even seems there's some muscle under the white shirt he sports. Some stubble adorns his face, and dark circles can be seen under his eyes. But his beautiful eyes are the same as you remember them from when you first met in Pasadena.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, still shocked. Spencer's expression seems pretty much the same as yours.

"Uh. Well, I work here," he explains after clearing his throat.

A Caltech's genius working with the FBI? You wouldn't have expected it. But then again, you didn't expect to cross paths with him after all this time. "And what are you doing here?"

Good point. Why did you come? Oh, yes. Penelope Garcia.

"I'm here to see a friend," you mumble. Spencer's confused look changes to what? Disappointment? Of course, you're not there for him. It's stupid ever to think that, considering you haven't talked since the day you said goodbye and parted ways in that tiny apartment you shared in Pasadena.

And then an awkward silence. What are the chances that after so long, you were going to meet Spencer? And if you're wondering how long, we're talking about ten years when you were both pursuing your degrees at Caltech. In your case, it was the first one because Spencer was already in his third PhD when you met.

Before you can say something else, the one and only Penelope Garcia burst into the room, looking for you.

"There you are! Why didn't you call me when you got here?"

Totally unbeknown to the tense silence, she steps in front of you and hugs you. You can feel Spencer's confused look on you. "I'm glad you made it! We have so much to talk about."

"Garcia is your friend?" Spencer asks, gaze on you, and it's when you realize how weird the situation is. Penelope turns to him, an eyebrow furrowed.

"Of course, I'm her friend. And she came to see me," Garcia scoffs until she realizes something. "Wait a minute. For what reason would you ask that?"

Spencer clears his throat. He doesn't know what your opinion is about people knowing that fact.

"We know each other," you explain to her before asking. "How do you know Spencer?"

"No way! What a coincidence!" Garcia chirps. The exclamation raises the interest of the people entering the bullpen. Some of them approach to where you all are. "Reid? We work together!"

What were the chances of something like that happening to you, you wondered, as Spencer continued to stare at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"What's happening here, baby girl?" A toned man asks Garcia, who can't contain her excitement.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," she announces as two women join the conversation.

Garcia briefly explains to the audience who you are and that she just found out that you both know Spencer, too. After the first impression, she proceeds to introduce you to those there: Derek, JJ, and Emily. From the corner of your eye, you can see Spencer downcasting his look at their curious glances at him.

"So you guys know each other?" JJ asks.

You both nod at the same time as Spencer mutters, "Caltech."

"Ah, fellow grads," JJ assumes. And in part, she is right. Indeed, you met while you were starting your master's degree and subsequent doctorate in the same area as Spencer.

"Kind of," you admit, seeing Spencer's cheeks flush and feeling yours burn too. The guy who was presented as Derek Morgan has a smirk plastered on his face.

"College sweethearts?" Morgan asks in a teasing tone. And he is kind of right, too. You lock eyes with Spencer, and you can't tell if he did or wants to say to his colleagues what you really were at that time. But before you both can even think of saying anything, Garcia's eyes widen in recognition.

"No! Wait a minute! Did you go to college together? You said the other day that you-" she starts connecting information, and you start to freak out internally. Before you can stop her, Garcia blurts. "Oh! Spencer is your ex-husband? You have to be kidding me!"

Shit. How did she figure it out so quickly? Sure, it might be your fault for sharing details about your college love life with her on a night filled with alcohol, but how could you have known she was already acquainted with him? You were careful not to mention any names or specifics, yet here you are.

"Wait, what?" Morgan's smirk turns to jaw slack in astonishment. There is no difference between JJ's and Emily's reactions. Spencer's face is flushed, and so is yours.

"Someone is going to say anything?" Emily asks, bouncing her eyes between you and Spencer.

"Uh, well—" you start, giving Spencer an apologetic look, who returns you an awkward tight-lip smile.

"Yeah. We were married," he confirms.

"When we were at college," you add.

You can feel the heaviness in the air and the mid-surprised, mid-incredulous looks from the people around you. Morgan is the first to break the silence.

"Damn it, pretty boy. What a story you had hidden from us," he says, patting Spencer's shoulder. JJ - the quietest one until now - senses how uncomfortable you and Spencer are with all the attention.

"Guys, why don't we give them a minute?"

After a moment of consideration, Emily seconds the motion. "Yeah, Morgan, would you help me with something?"

"Su- sure," Morgan agrees, still confused but following Emily nonetheless.

"But—" Penelope is still trying to understand the whole situation and has many questions she wants to ask.

"Come on, Garcia. I'm sure (Y/N) will find you when she is ready," JJ encourages, looking at you. That's when you get out of your daze and nod.

"Yes. Yeah. I'll text you, Penelope."

And just like that, the same way people surrounded you just seconds ago, now it's just you, Spencer, and an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you worked here. I didn't know you were Penelope's coworker, and—" you start to apologize.

"No. Don't. It's not your fault," Spencer rushes to speak.

"I shouldn't have told her about - about," you trail off.

"About you having an ex-husband?" Spencer supplies, and you shyly nod.

"Believe me, it's not a thing I tell everyone I meet, but Penelope, well, she-" you try to find the right words. Spencer nods in understanding.

"Yeah, she can be pretty convincing when she wants to know something."

Another halo of silence passes between you until it's Spencer who breaks it this time.

"So, how have you been? I mean, it's been a while." You nod, still uncomfortable with the situation but just as curious as you assume Spencer is.

"Yeah, it's been a while," you confirm. "Good, all good on my end. Working and living. What about you?"

"Me? Good. Working here at the BAU."

"Cool."

Cool? What does that mean?

A sharp 'Reid' is heard from behind you both, making you turn to the source. A well-dressed man with a serious gaze is looking at Spencer from an office threshold. "Can you come, please?" the man adds. Spencer nods quickly. "Sure. I'll be there in a second, Hotch." The answer seems to satisfy the man, so he nods and returns inside.

Spencer turns to you again. "Uh. I - uh-" he stutters, motioning where the man called Hotch was a second ago.

"Yeah. I have to go, too." You have to, actually, but you don't think you can face Penelope or anyone else right now, for that matter. "It was nice to see you." As you are about to run away subtly, Spencer calls your name. Stopping in your tracks, you turn, and your eyes make contact with his again.

"Would you - uh. Would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?"

It catches you off guard, but you only assume he's being polite. You think you should return the gesture.

"Sure. Why not," you say, giving him a little smile. "Now I have to go. Bye, Spencer."

And with that, you resume your escape to the elevator.

----------

From the moment he saw you at the BAU, Spencer has never been the same. He never imagined he would see you again, especially under those circumstances. Spencer was so astonished he wasn't even able to start a decent conversation or even ask for your number after inviting you to a coffee.

Also distressed about the interrogation he knew his colleagues would subject to him, Spencer wanders through the BAU halls as if he were not in the present. And, in fact, he is not. After seeing you, he has only been able to think about you and the years you both spent in Pasadena.

A smile tugs the corners of his mouth every time one of those memories comes to him.

"Okay, pretty boy, spill," Derek prompts when he sees Spencer in the kitchen two days after your encounter.

"Uh? What are you talking about?" he turns, confused, to see Derek looking at him with a frown and arms over his chest.

"Come on! You know what I'm talking about. About the pretty lady, Garcia's friend, who happens to be your ex-wife?"

Spencer huffs through his nostrils.

"I already told you. We met in college, and we were together until we graduated," Spencer says nonchalantly as if it's normal. He tries, at least. Morgan scoffs at his attempt.

"Reid. You married her. You just can't tell me you 'were together' as you're talking about any other relationship. She was important; what happened?"

Morgan remembers well a few years ago when Spencer told him about a great love he had while at Caltech and how, from time to time, those memories would come to plague his head. It wasn't hard for Morgan to connect the dots and assume you were the person Spencer was referring to.

Spencer sighs thoughtfully. "We ended it by mutual agreement. We both knew our career paths were going to be incompatible, and we both had so many dreams to fulfill. Our greatest act of love was letting each other go. At least that's how I saw it for a long time."

"But you regretted it at some point," Morgan adds, and Spencer nods. "Why didn't you try to find her then?"

"I didn't want to be selfish. What if she already had her life going perfectly, and I was just going to show like a kicked puppy? It wasn't fair for her."

"Man, I get it, but what about now? You found each other again. Can it be a kind of sign or something." Spencer glances at Derek with an incredulous look.

"Are you listening to yourself? You sound like Garcia," Spencer grumbles, making Derek laugh.

"Yeah. Definitely, it's something my baby girl would say. But, truly speaking, Reid, why not take a chance?"

Spencer huffs in frustration. "I - I don't know anything about her in these years! I didn't even ask for her number that day. I was frozen on the spot!"

"And that will stop you?"

A satisfactory smirk appears on Derek's face when Spencer stays silent, contemplating his options.

---------

Not wanting to talk about the encounter with anyone, you write to Penelope, apologizing for having to leave suddenly that day. She responds everything is fine and doesn't even ask you why, to which you are tremendously grateful.

But as the days pass by, you know you have to talk to her at some point, so you invite her to come over one afternoon.

You have been thinking a lot and rationalizing everything that happened. Of course, there was always a possibility of crossing paths with Spencer someday, but turning it into reality is different. So you conclude all your nerves were out of the shock of something unprovable happening, not because seeing Spencer after ten years made you fall off your balance.

With that in mind, you were ready to talk to Penelope.

Once she gets to your apartment, you first apologize for leaving that day and explain how you got frozen after the unexpected encounter. Garcia tells you not to worry and even says she is sorry for telling everyone about her discovery without any filter.

"It's just- I was so impressed. I couldn't help it!" she explains, and you nod in understanding.

"It's okay. I guess no one expected something like that."

"Right? But I have to ask. How did Spencer Reid become your husband? I mean, you told me about your ex-husband and all, but I'm sorry, I can't picture Spencer even talking to a girl without stuttering, less asking for marriage, and then divorcing? It's beyond me."

It catches your attention how she talks about him. Although you met Spencer when you both were very young, knowing how shy he was, over time, you managed to beat his barrier and meet a wonderful man full of charisma and not so sheepish after all. Has he never shown that side to anyone else in all these years?

"Why so much interest in my marriage? It's been a decade," you ask Penelope, and her scoff sounds a mix of obvious and disbelief.

"Honey, it's unbelievable Doctor Loving Reid has kept THAT information to himself for so long. So now that it is out, it does pick my full interest. Spill. What happened?"

You shrug your shoulder. "It's like I said the first time I told you. We were young, a whole life ahead. Neither he nor I wanted to cut each other's wings."

"But you loved each other!" Penelope complains with an adorable pout. You have known this woman for what? Less than a year? And she seems brokenhearted about something that happened to you and Spencer ten years ago. She's right, though. You and Spencer were mad in love. Unlike what people have believed for years, your marriage was not a result of a wild night of alcohol and passion in Pasadena. You were both quite sober when you went to court that day. Both even had written down the vows you professed in front of the judge- yours on a piece of paper and Spencer in his brain, of course.

"If it's any consolation, the year we were married, we were very happy," you tell her, fondly remembering that time. Garcia rolls her eyes.

"Well, exactly that's what I mean, miss. If you were so happy, why end it like that?"

The only answer you can think of is 'it's complicated,' but that will surely increase her curiosity.

"We wanted the best for each other, even if it meant being apart. As good rational beings, we weighed our options, and the sensible thing to do was to end it."

Putting it in that way, Penelope can believe it. Having known Spencer for years, she knows for a fact his big brain is capable of analyzing every probability of every possible outcome. What seems incredible to her is how feelings - how love - can be rationalized like this.

A ding from your phone pauses your talk with Penelope. You glance at the device and see a text from an unknown caller.

'Hi. I'm Spencer. I stupidly didn't ask you for your number, so after cursing myself for the past few days, I had to find it out. Don't get mad, please. I would really like to grab a coffee with you if you are up to it. If you don't want to, I understand. And if you don't want me to contact you again, just say the words, and I'll stop. But I really hope you say yes. SR.'

Okay. This is unexpected. Indeed, you remember not having exchanged numbers with Spencer, and you didn't give it much thought either, assuming his invitation had been out of pure kindness. But here you are, reading the message and feeling an emotion you can't describe. Nostalgia, maybe?

You narrow your eyes to Garcia, who immediately suspects who sent you a text.

"Before you ask, I didn't give him your number!" she defends as you breathe a deep sigh.

"He's asking me out for coffee," you tell Garcia, and she can't help but squeal.

"Will you say yes?"

"I don't know. Is it a good idea to get back in touch after all these years?" you muse more for yourself than her.

"Honey, only you know what's best for you, but if you ask me, I remember you telling me after you both split up, you were left with a lot of 'what ifs' in your head, and some of them are still floating around. Maybe this could help clear them up once and for all."

Penelope has a point. But now, you have a dilemma in the form of a coffee invitation.

---------

It's just a coffee. Don't overthink it.

You have been telling yourself that for a while as you walk to the coffee shop where you agreed to meet Spencer today.

He is just being nice.

Sure, after ten years of no contact, this sudden encounter in the FBI - with all his colleagues there - maybe pressured him to invite you to grab a coffee.

Still lost in your thoughts, you don't realize you are already there. After taking a deep breath, you step inside and look around. You spot him in a booth in the corner, back to you. A smile tugs at your lips, remembering all the coffee dates you both had back then. It was your thing. Hours and hours talking about everything and anything until the owner asked you to leave because they needed to close.

"Hey," you greet, making Spencer look up to you.

"Hi," he returns, a smile plastered on his face. "Thanks for accepting my invitation," he gestures for you to sit.

"Sure. Why I wouldn't?" After taking off your coat, you sit in front of him in the booth.

"Yeah. I mean, we haven't talked in ten years. And then we see each other at my work, and- well, it's kind of weird, I guess?"

Weird is an understatement, you think.

"You are right. Kind of it is."

You notice there are two coffee cups on the table. Spencer follows your line of sight.

"Uh- I had ordered already," he points to the coffee in front of you. "I don't know if you have changed your order, though."

"Thanks," you mumble appreciatively. "I haven't changed it, actually."

"Great!"

You try to gauge his expression. Is he nervous? Anxious? Because you are.

"Spencer, if you are uncomfortable, we can just go home. There is no—" You can't finish the sentence before Spencer cuts you off.

"No. No, I'm not. Please, don't think that."

"Okay," you concede. "I won't. But you need to be honest with me, okay?"

"Of course," Spencer agrees.

"You felt obligated to invite me here after what happened?" You bluntly ask, and Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No, of course not," Spencer immediately denies. "I really wanted to see you. It's just that-" he hesitates. You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. "I just didn't know if it was right, you know? I mean, we never reach out, and then it happens. We never agreed-" he trails off. And you know exactly what he's talking about.

Back then, when you decided to go separate ways, Spencer asked you what would happen if you met again in the future, and you shook your head, saying it probably wouldn't happen. So yes, you never talked about the possibility, and Spencer understood he should never contact you, and so did you.

"I know. We didn't," you recognize, regret slipping in your voice. "I guess I didn't want to think about the possibility back then."

You two know there are things you left out and left unsaid the last night you were together in Pasadena, but you don't think it's a good idea to say them now—not when this is supposed to be a friendly reunion between exes.

"So, since when have you been working in DC?" Spencer asks after you tell him about your work career on the west side.

"Almost two years," you admit.

Two years living in the same city. Spencer wonders if Garcia hadn't met you, he would have ever seen you again.

Your professional career has certainly been prolific; Spencer can tell after the stories you have been recounting. Years of experience and important jobs, just as you had dreamed when you were in college. These are the same dreams you shared with Spencer during the nights of studying and those where there was everything else but studying.

"I thought you were going to pursue academics. When did the FBI happen?" you ask after saying it's enough of talking about yourself.

"I thought that too. And I did it for a while. Then I met Gideon. He - uh, he showed me what the BAU had been doing, and I knew it was my place to be."

Spencer fondly tells you about his early years working as a profiler and how much he has learned. It seems that, like you, he has found his professional calling.

Two hours and three coffees later, you are both laughing about the weird and funny things you have seen in the past years. It feels good, and much of the initial nervousness has dissipated. But there is one topic you both have actively avoided: romantic relationships.

You are curious about it, and Spencer is, too, but neither of you wants to be the one to mention it first. Spencer is who breaks first.

"Are we going to talk about - about that? I feel we have been dancing about the topic, but I don't know if you want to."

You can't help but snort out of being caught and for the subject itself. You are sure your almost nonexistent love life is enough to make anyone cry or laugh.

"I'm still that obvious?"

"You have your tells," Spencer shrugs. You raise an eyebrow.

"I have my tells? What about you, doctor? You have been bouncing your leg the same way you did the day you defended your engineering PhD dissertation."

Spencer's eyes widen. "You still remember that?"

The insinuation of you forgetting that day makes you scoff.

"Of course I do! I tried everything to try to calm your nerves. Do you remember what I did, and actually, it worked?" Spencer's cheeks redden because he remembers.

You won't tell the details, but you recall, as clear as the day, how you helped him to 'decompress.'

"Okay, okay. Guilty as charged."

"So, what do you want to know?" You ask, still not fully ready but resigned, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Are you with someone?" Spencer asks, and you gasp, feigning surprise.

"No beating around the bushes, uh?"

Spencer's cheeks flush, and he can't help it. "If it's out the line, you don't need to answer."

Seeing him flustered and biting his lower lip makes your heart do flip-flops. It's something you haven't felt in a long time—ten years, to be exact.

"If you had asked me a month ago, I should have said yes."

Indeed, you had a boyfriend until a month ago when his insistence on moving in with you was too much to handle, and his frustrated self decided to say a lot of awful things when you said no to him.

Some people would say you have commitment issues, and maybe you have. But in all honesty, until this day, there is no one you have felt secure enough to take that step.

It's ironic, considering you already have a marriage under your belt.

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbles.

"No. Don't be. It wasn't meant to be."

'Like I used to think about us,' you want to add, but you refrain. Instead, you explain in not much detail every failed relationship you have had. Spencer listens intently, his heart aching to think of how a part of you might have been broken with each failed relationship. He hasn't done any better, though.

"And that's all. As you can see, there is nothing too exciting to remark," you chuckle to lighten the mood. "Tell me about you. There is a Mrs. Reid waiting at home?"

Spencer snorts, shaking his head. "No. There's no Mrs. Reid. The only one who has held the title has been you," he says with a look that makes your breath hitch in your throat. What is it? Longing?

"Wow. I feel honored," you tease, trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

Spencer tells you about the few relationships he's had over the years. In his own opinion, none of them are very meaningful. When you ask him why, he doesn't hesitate to answer. "This job not only consumes my time, but also a lot of me as a person. Not everyone understands that."

He would like to say no one has ever been so important as to make him doubt continuing to work in what he does. The only person who ever made him doubt was you. But instead of saying it, he prefers to end with a "I guess that's why no one has stayed."

Listening to him talk is like listening to yourself, trying to minimize the fact that professional success is possibly one of the main reasons why other parts of your personal life have never flourished.

It was your choice. You both decided to make it that way. But sometimes you wonder if...

"Do you think we made a mistake?"

Spencer's question gets you out of your thoughts.

You look at him, baffled. "What?"

"Do you think we shouldn't have broken up? That I shouldn't have left?"

You pondered his question for a second. It has to do with how you felt at that time? Or does it have to do with how you felt after or even now?

"Honestly? I don't know, Spencer." A resigned sigh leaves your lips. "I always wanted to think it was the right thing to do."

"You never regretted it?" He asks you, and you shrug, not knowing much to say. Instead, you opt to ask him the question back.

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I did," he admits. "Sometimes I still do."

A heavy silence settles between you. The admission that you both had doubts about the drastic decision you made almost ten years ago is difficult to take. It unfurls a whole new set of questions whose answers you are not sure you are ready to hear or say. But it's only fair he knows your truth as you know his now.

"For what is worth, me too. I regret it. More often than I would like to admit."

Spencer's heart starts to beat faster; breath hitches in his throat for a second.

He tentatively reaches out to rest his hand on yours. You watch the action and think you know what it means. His eyes are hopeful. Something you'd like to mirror in your own, but the uncertainty is there, and you can't help it.

"Spencer, no. Please, don't." You try to articulate but not take your hand away from his. "I wish I could tell you I'm willing to try- to try to make up for lost time, but I can't. Even though it may not seem like it, we're strangers to each other, and I'm not in a place to even think about- you know."

Spencer gives a little squeeze to your hand, nodding.

"I know. And I'm not asking you for us to redo our story and start from where we ended. No. But I would love to get to know you again and be your friend."

"Friends?" You ask, brows furrowed. He smiles.

"Yeah. First and foremost, you were always my best friend. My person. Even if we never get back together as a couple, and we don't have to, I don't want to lose you again."

You take a moment to think about his words. What would be the harm? You're at a stage in your life where you don't want to live thinking about those things you wish you had done and didn't. The things you might have done differently. Why not put reason aside for a moment and just be?

You squeeze his hand back, a sign of yes; you're willing to get to know the Spencer in front of you.

---------

Three months have passed since your conversation with Spencer at the coffee shop. You both agreed to reconnect as friends, which has led to many coffee meetings, lunches, dinners, movie nights, and walks in the park. And to say your heart feels full and happy would be an understatement. You've realized how much of the Spencer you met in Pasadena still exists, and the connection that once brought you together has revitalized and is stronger than ever.

Neither of you has wanted to rush things, and so far, you're both happy to be able to spend time together.

Spencer has also opened the door for you to the BAU team, which has been his family for eight years now. In addition to the bond you already had with Penelope, you now regularly attend the girls' night she hosts with JJ and Emily. You've also gotten to know Derek and Hotch better and understand why Spencer considers them like his older brother and father figure, respectively. You've also become a favorite of David Rossi, who doesn't take no for an answer every time he invites you to one of his dinners.

Like tonight, where you find yourself vividly chatting with the girls in a corner of Rossi's backyard.

"No way I could have passed Dynamics and Mechanics without Spencer," you acknowledge when you're talking about the most challenging subjects you had in college.

"It seems a very interesting topic," Emily jokes, not knowing what the hell you were talking about.

You giggle at the memory, cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"I still remember those afternoons Spencer spent trying to help me memorize the Euler–Lagrange equations and the Hamilton's principle. He made it interesting, if you know what I mean," you wink at them.

"I don't think I want to know," JJ muses. Emily snorts at the suggestion.

"Oh, I definitely want to know what that means," Penelope pipes. You chuckle.

"One night, he made me recite the whole equations with his head buried between my thighs," you confess with a mischievous look.

"Oh my God!" Garcia's jaw goes slack, and Emily's eyes widen in disbelief.

"You fucking kidding me!"

"Definitely, I didn't want to know that," JJ shakes her head.

"Well, I helped him with Applied Computer Science. He had to produce a code to operate a string of relational databases while I was on my knees su-"

"Okay! I get it!" Garcia cuts you off, with her hands in the air, as Emily laughs and JJ groans.

"You asked," you shrug, a smirk on your lips.

"Okay, okay. But hear me out. Since we are talking about college time, and honestly speaking, we all have had someone in college, more or less important, with whom to study or do other things," Emily prefaces, making you giggle. "But from that, to marry, and one year later to divorce? How do you get over something so intense like that?"

You have questioned yourself the same for years.

Looking past JJ's shoulder, you see Spencer talking with Morgan, beer in hand, and you can't help but feel the smile creeping on your face when he looks back and winks at you.

If anything, the past months have made you realize what you had back then with him was unique. But what you're having now? It is as unique as before and better.

"I don't think you get over it. And it's okay; you learn to appreciate it and value the chances life gives you after."

The girls follow your line of sight and share a knowing look. When they see Spencer approaching the group, they collectively decide to go inside the house for a new drink.

"All yours," Garcia whispers to Spencer before going in a bee-line with Emily and JJ.

"What was that?" Spencer asks you with a quirked eyebrow when the girls are out of sight.

You look at him, pretending not to understand.

"I assume they wanted a refill," you say with a shrug. Spencer nods and smiles at you.

"And you don't? Do you want me to get you something?"

"No. I'm fine," you respond to his offer. "Besides, I think I've got my alcohol ration filled for the night."

"If you're done for the night, I can take you home if you want."

That's the Spencer you know, always concerned about your well-being and comfort. You shake your head.

"Not yet. Walk with me, though?" You ask, extending your hand for him to take. Without questioning reasons, Spencer nods and takes your hand. The two of you begin to walk towards the pool area, where the sound of the music coming from the house is less audible.

It's not unusual for you to hold hands now. You trust each other, and it's been an innocent way of showing affection. And while the tension of something more has been building, neither of you has wanted to take the next step yet.

When you stop in the pool deck, Spencer moves to stand in front of you, his free hand reaching to tilt your chin with his index so he can inspect your face for some kind of clue.

"Are you okay?"

You nod as your fingers, from your joined hands, absently play with his. A thorough smile tugs the corners of your mouth. Your eyes admiring Spencer's honey ones in the moonlight.

"More than okay," you admit. But Spencer knows there is more in your mind you're not saying.

"Yeah?"

"Yep." You're stretching this on purpose. A smirk plays on your face. Spencer knows what you are doing.

"Good." His voice is amused. This game was one you both used to play back then, testing each other's curiosity and seeing how long it took the other to demand an answer about what the other was thinking. Usually, you were the one who won since Spencer couldn't stand not knowing.

"Have you grown patient over the years, Dr. Reid?" You ask, entertained. Spencer's laughter fills you with a feeling you thought was dormant inside you, but he has managed to refloat.

Not wanting to prolong his torture, and because you don't have it in you to hold back any longer, you decide to speak.

"I know you remember, but can you tell me the first thing I said to you the day I met you?"

Spencer's eyes narrow in search of the moment you're referring to.

-

You were in the library, busily searching through the shelves for a book you couldn't find. Spencer could see the stress radiating off of you. After watching you for a few seconds, he decided to walk over to the shelf, and leaning down, he pulled a book from the top shelf before presenting it to you. "Maybe this is the one you're looking for?" And he was right. Your first thought was, 'How did I not see it before?' and then you realized the weirdest thing of all, 'how did he know which was the book you were looking for?' You didn't know the guy, and as far as you knew, he didn't know you either.

Seeing your confusion, he proceeded to explain. "It was an educated guess, seeing as you have Fuller's, Richmond's, and Helbert's there. I assumed you were in Thermodynamics 301 and didn't have Priest's."

-

Spencer laughs before trying to imitate your voice. "Can I buy you a coffee in appreciation and keep you in my purse for future reference?" You nod, smiling.

"Bold of me for asking that to a stranger, uh?"

"Bold of you for thinking I would ever refuse," Spencer says in a mocking tone to match your joke. You both share a fit of laughter. Once it subsides, your eyes fix on him.

"Bold of me to think I wouldn't fall in love with you after all these years." Your words hit Spencer, whose expression changes from light to serious in a second.

"What?"

"It's like they say. At some point, something has to give. And this is my moment." You pause before continuing. "I can't say I'm sure what's coming, because I'm not. I also don't know if what you've seen of me these past few months is worth enough for you to love me again. But there's one thing I do know. I love you. I loved you, I missed you, and now I've loved you again."

Spencer is speechless. His brain tries to piece together each word you say. You take both his hands in yours, and you can feel them tremble.

"If you'll have me, I want to be the one that stays," you add, hoping your words are good enough to convey your emotions.

You don't know when tears start running down your cheeks. It might be when you see Spencer's glassy eyes.

"I do love you. And I want you to be the one who stays," he rasps before releasing your hands to cup your cheeks with his own, leaning down to whisper, "Let me be the person you want to stay for."

"You already are," you whisper back before closing the distance between you, allowing your lips to meet in a tender, sweet kiss. A new promise and a new beginning for two souls that were meant to be. Thanks to fate, or maybe not. That doesn't matter anymore.

-

As you kiss, part, whisper sweet nothings to each other, and kiss again, not so far away, are two people watching the scene with satisfied looks on their faces.

"Do you see that, Hot Stuff?" Garcia asks Morgan. A smirk appears on his face.

"Yeah, mama. I see it, clear as the day."

"We did it!" Penelope cheers, whisper-yelling, making Morgan chuckle.

"I should never have doubted you, baby girl," the man says, kissing her cheek.

"Of course not. But I forgive you only because I'm so happy our plan worked wonderfully."

-----------

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

Penelope Garcia's curiosity always gets the best of her. She has gotten to know you better in the past months since the IA convention where you met. She sees you as a beautiful person and a good friend. So when you told her on a night full of alcohol about your ex-husband and how important your relationship was for you, Penelope couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to know more, so maybe she could do something to help. Do what? She didn't know, but maybe more information about it would give her an idea.

Quickly typing on her keyboard, she finds a Pasadena Marriage License with your name on it. Checking the date, Garcia notes you had married in the summer before your senior year. It was expected. You already told her that.

What was unexpected, though, was finding out who the person you had married was. Garcia had to read the name twice before realizing the huge discovery she had just made: Spencer Walter Reid.

'No way! It has to be a mistake,' she squealed, fast-reading the information on the papers. No, there wasn't any mistake. You married Spencer Reid almost ten years ago. The same Spencer Reid she has known for so long and works with her every day.

But wait. You had said, ex-husband. Where are the divorce papers?

Typing again, she finds a divorce request signed by you and Spencer a year after you married. So that is true, too.

Overwhelmed by everything she has just discovered, Garcia is about to close the web tabs with all this data when something pops up: it's a court resolution dated six months after the divorce request. The resolution reads that the request has been denied because one of the parts couldn't be notified for comparison to the Pasadena tribunal. Garcia narrows her eyes and types again, looking for an updated legal document granting the divorce request. She finds none.

'Double holy fucking shit! They are still married!'

Without knowing what to do with this new information, she starts pacing frantically in the office. Garcia knows that the information she found wasn't for her to know, but at the same time, how does it not you or Spencer know this? She can't tell you, but she should, or maybe not. Grabbing her phone, she dials the only person she knows will help her with the dilemma.

"Derek Morgan. I need your delicious ass in my office right now!"

And just like that, a plan emerged. A plan to give a little push to destiny. A little push to you and Spencer cross paths again. Maybe this time, for good.

-----------

"And when are you going to tell them about their failed divorce?" Morgan asks Garcia, who is still looking at the couple giggling and kissing.

"Oh, shush. Let them enjoy tonight. There will be time for that."

Derek Morgan shakes his head, laughing. "Okay. You're the boss, mama. You're the boss."

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[spider-stark]

EVERYTHING

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - Kaz Brekker doesn't make any sense—and trying to understand him is getting to be exhausting.

Warnings - fem!reader, reader worked at a brothel, subtle hints at past abuse, some major dog / master symbolism idfk, mentions of blood/weapons, close proximity, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED SO IF THERE'S A TYPO IDK

Word Count - 3.8k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“Touch me.” 

You’ve only just slipped inside Kaz Brekker’s room at the Slat, and you’re convinced you’ve misheard him. The door’s still cracked, after all—and the mindless clamor of those playing cards down in the foyer is loud enough to play tricks on anyone’s ears. 

You push the door shut, habit making you click the lock into place before spinning around to face him. “Pardon?” 

The lanterns burn low, dim light chasing shadows across the spacious attic. Kaz stands over by his desk, leaning his weight against the edge in lieu of his cane. He’s dragging a gloved hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically flustered. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me,” he snaps. 

Your laugh comes out breathy and awkward. “We both know I’m a shit actor, Brekker.” 

It’s why you’re never picked when the Dreg’s need a decoy—some girl to saddle up next to a sleazy merchant or another hapless mark, distracting them with batted lashes and a well-timed hand on their thigh. In Jesper’s words, you’re so socially inept that you’d probably blow the operation before it even got started.

To your dismay, Kaz doesn’t repeat himself. With his gaze carefully pinned to the tops of his black boots, he demands, “Why are you here?” 

Your brow quirks. “At the Slat?” 

“In my room.” 

The answer eludes you. Why did you come up here? It’s not like tonight was the first time Dirtyhands has ever skipped out on playing Blackjack with the rest of the group, and yet he’d caught your attention when he slipped from the foyer and went limping up the stairs. 

Then again, that’s not so surprising. Kaz always catches your eye, doesn’t he? 

In the year since you joined the Dregs, you’d earned an unfortunate nickname for yourself around the Barrel: The Bastard’s Pet. Wherever Kaz Brekker goes, you’re sure to be hot on his heels, following after him like a dog, loyal and clingy. 

You tell yourself it’s because that’s your job—to keep Kaz safe, to watch his six. But the devil’s got eyes in the back of his head, and you know Kaz Brekker doesn’t really need protection. 

So, it begs the question: Why are you here? In his room, at the Slat, as a member of the Dregs? Why does he keep you around? 

Unsure of the answer, you simply avoid giving one. 

“You should play games with them sometimes,” you tell him, giving a subtle nod over your shoulder. Their voices are muffled now, but you can still hear everyone downstairs exchanging jeers as they shuffle another round. “It makes you look like a recluse, always sneaking off to be by yourself.” 

Kaz drums one finger against the desk. It’s an erratic beat, following no set rhythm. “I am a recluse,” he grinds out. 

You almost snort. Clearly. 

It’s not like anyone joins a gang with the hopes of making friends—and none of the Dregs are dumb enough to think they’ll find a buddy in the infamous Dirtyhands, anyway. Still, you don’t think it’d kill him to try being a little more sociable. 

The others would like having him around. 

You like having him around. 

“I’ll ask one more time.” Dark eyes flick up, heavy as stones when they land on yours. Suddenly, the large attic feels awfully claustrophobic. “Why are you here?” 

A lie comes easily enough, slipping right through your teeth. 

“I got bored playing,” you tell him. “And Jesper’s cheating, anyway.” 

“They’re all cheating,” Kaz points out. 

“But Jesper’s bad at it,” you argue. Lifting a shoulder, you add, “It ruins the fun.” 

His finger falls still against the desk, ceasing its rhythmless beat. Warm light flickers all around him, dark shadows dancing over the harsh angles of his face. You watch his jaw tick, note the subtle curl of his upper lip. You’re overcome with the distinct feeling that you’re staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. 

Probably because you are. 

You’ve seen this face before. Been the one to clean the bloody mess left behind by whoever was unfortunate enough to find themselves on the receiving end of it. Now, as the one standing in the line of fire, you feel your stomach start to twist. 

You tell yourself it’s dread. Anxiety for what’s to come. 

“From where I was standing,” Kaz grinds out, his stare unflinching, “you looked to be having plenty of…” A sharp breath, his tongue gliding over pearly teeth. “Fun.” 

There’s something hidden in the word. A meaning that goes well beyond its dictionary definition. Is it a challenge? A dare, maybe? Or—perhaps the most unlikely of the options—some sort of plea? 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you ask, finally daring a step closer, slowly drifting from the closed door. 

Kaz shakes his head. “It means what it means.” 

As you draw closer, he moves around the desk and takes a seat. He stretches his bad leg out in front of him, mindlessly rubbing a hand down toward his knee. It’s always bothering him by this point in the night. 

“Go back downstairs.” An order—not a suggestion. 

Across from him now, you place both palms on his desk. The smooth wood is cool against your skin, though the rest of you feels impossibly warm. It’s a side effect of standing too close to him, you think. The flushed cheeks and the vice around your lungs, always leaving your mind fuzzy and your pulse erratic. 

You hate him for it, sometimes. For the effect he has on you. 

“Why?”  you ask, riding out your little bold streak. “So you have a reason to gripe some more about me having fun?” 

“I’m not griping,” Kaz shoots back, very evidently griping. 

“Griping, carping, quibbling, or complaining—doesn’t matter how you word it, all of 'em fit you to a T right now, Brekker.” 

He’s not looking at you anymore, focused instead on the swirling patterns of the wood grain or the neat stack of papers or anything else that gives him an excuse to keep his head low. A month or so after you joined the Dregs, Kaz told you that you had a talent for getting under his skin. Maybe that’s why you don’t need to be able to see his face to know just how annoyed he looks. 

“Go downstairs.” 

“I will,” you vow. “After you explain what you meant.” 

Frustrated, he insists, “There’s nothing to explain.” 

“What did you say when I came in?” 

“Go downstairs.” 

You throw your hands up. “If you won’t tell me what you said, then at least explain why ‘fun’ is such a problem!” 

“Go. Down. Stairs.” 

“Make me.” 

Wood screeches, the chair flying back as he shoots to his feet. The stiffness in his leg makes the movement a little clumsy, and you don’t miss the subtlest flash of a wince before he leans against the desk. 

“Do you know why I brought you in?” 

For a moment, it’s all you can do to blink at him. Because, no—you don’t know why Kaz offered you a place with the Dregs. 

You’re not a sharpshooter like Jesper or a trained Grisha like Nina, not as smart as Wylan or as silent as Inej. You’re decent when it comes to sleight-of-hand and slightly above average with a blade, but even those skills are ones you’ve only learned since joining the gang. 

Back when you first met Kaz, you were nothing and no one. An unlucky girl roped into an indenture with Pekka Rollins, forced to work out of the Sweet Shop—the nastiest, most dangerous brothel in all of Ketterdam. 

“Because you’re secretly a big softie with a heart of gold?” You hope your sarcasm is enough to mask the twinge of shame brought on by your past. 

But Kaz is too good for that. Nothing gets past him—evident by the tiny wrinkle of concern that forms between his dark brows, instantly picking up on the faint dip in your tone. 

Fortunately for you, being observant doesn’t equate to being consoling, and so he doesn’t mention it. 

“Because you didn’t make me sick,” he answers, low and even. You’re not so sure if it’s an insult or compliment, and before you get a chance to ask, Kaz continues, “It was late. And raining. I’d just finished teaching a Razorgull lackey what happens when you breach parley. He was a real bleeder—made a mess of my suit. I ended up leaving him for Jesper to deal with. Thought I’d avoid eyes by sticking to the shadows, walking in the alleys behind the brothels.” Your eyes must be betraying you, because you almost think that’s a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Imagine my surprise when a runaway harlot nearly knocked a helpless cripple like me off his feet.” 

You bite your cheek, still deciding if you want to slap him for calling you a harlot or laugh in his face. In spite of his limp and cane, Kaz Brekker is far from what you’d consider helpless. 

“So, what? You had me join the Dregs because I nearly bulldozed you in an alley?” That whole night was spotty for you, the panic you’d felt having rendered your memory foggy and incomplete. 

“Inej had told me about you,” Kaz says. “That Pekka Rollins got a new girl—an escape artist, always trying her luck at running away.” 

You didn’t know that, but maybe you should have. Inej isn’t the best spider in the Barrel without reason. She knows everything—and all she knows is reported directly to Kaz. Even so, you’re not sure you’re catching his point with all this. 

As if he can see you trying to mentally connect the dots, Kaz says, “Maybe I had another purpose in walking behind those brothels. Maybe I wanted to see just how quick on her feet Pekka Rollins’ escape artist was.” His head tilts slightly. “Or maybe I just didn’t want anyone to see me when I wasn’t looking my best. Either way, I left that alley knowing you’d be a part of my crew.” 

Your memory of that night may be spotty, but the one after is still crystal clear. A Suli spider had crawled through your window at the Sweet Shop, told you that Per Haskell was willing to pay a very hefty sum to buyout your indenture if you agreed to work for the Dregs. To this day, you’re still unsure of how Kaz managed to convince him you were worth it—or why he bothered. 

“You’re not making any sense, Brekker,” you admit, rubbing at your temple. A headache burrows there, seeming to grow worse with every minute. “Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? Cause I’m… fast?” 

It sounds stupid. It is stupid. 

You’re no faster than anyone else—and you certainly hadn’t been fast enough to outrun Pekka Rollins’ goons. Everytime you made a run from the Sweet Shop, they dragged you right back, kicking and screaming the whole way. 

“No.” Kaz sighs. Drags a hand through his hair, tugging at the dark locks. “I wanted you-”

Kaz doesn’t finish that thought. 

A violent CRASH! steals your attention. Both of your heads snap toward the closed door, listening intently for any sign of danger.

Instead, you hear Jesper’s boisterous cackle chime. Wylan starts shouting about something indiscernible—vase, shattered, and moron among the words you catch.

A smile sneaks up on you. 

But, when you turn back to Kaz, it’s promptly wiped away. 

He looks like he’s had a lemon rind forced into his mouth, scowling at the door. “What’s going on with you and Van Eck?” 

You blink. “What?” 

“You heard me.” 

You did—but hearing him is a far stretch from understanding him, and it’s seemed like Kaz has been talking in circles since you came in. What’s Wylan have to do with any of this? 

“I don’t get what you’re asking.” 

“Stop making me repeat myself.” 

“Then stop being so confusing, Brekker!” you huff, crossing your arms. “I don’t understand-”

Kaz cuts you off with a look. Cold as death, he grinds out, “Are you fucking him?” 

Shock. Confusion. 

They course through you in equal measure, coupled with slight amusement. The latter must show on your face, because Kaz’s scowl deepens before he looks down at his desk, pretending to fiddle with something. 

“I have work to do,” he says stiffly. “Go downstairs.” 

Your feet stay firmly planted, the desk’s width all that separates the two of you. “Why would you think that?” 

Of all the assholes and degenerates in the Dregs, Wylan’s probably the closest you have to a real friend. It came with the territory—both of you having become newbies around the same time, trying to learn the ropes and fit in. 

You’re not fucking him, though. 

Kaz sinks back into his chair. His usually-squared shoulders curve slightly, as if some weight is pressing down on them. “Go downstairs.” 

“I thought you didn’t like repeating yourself?” you ask, almost taunting. 

“Go.” The word strains between his teeth. “Now.” 

For no good reason, you make a stand. Stare down the barrel of the gun, unafraid and unrelenting. How strange, you think. The tightness in your chest has never once been apprehension. 

It was excitement. Anticipation. 

You’ve always liked getting under his skin. Finding out what makes him tick, figuring out which words earn the sharpest glares. You want him to pull the trigger, if only because it means you have his attention—and like a dog waiting at its master’s feet, you could care less if it comes with an open hand or a closed fist. 

So long as it comes. So long as he notices you. 

“What did you say when I came in?” You uncross your arms, make yourself stand up tall. “Tell me.” 

Dark eyes shoot up. Kaz almost looks shocked, the dull echo of emotion creasing the lines of his face, parting his lips. You wait, but no sound comes out. 

Dirtyhands is used to giving orders. Not taking them. 

“You’ve heard what they say about me.” You wave a dismissive hand toward the shoddy window overlooking the Barrel. “Brekker’s Pet. Always with you, always following you around! Ask any sod in Ketterdam and they’ll say the same—the only way I’d have time to fuck someone is if you were in the room!” And even then, it wouldn’t be Wylan. 

A steel rod takes the place of Kaz’s spine, turning your words over in his head. “Fine. Maybe you haven’t,” he relents. “But you want to.” 

It’s a gamble. An unusually shitty one, at that. 

You blow out an exasperated breath. This whole thing is getting old. “Saints, Kaz. What’s your deal?” 

He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Then opens it again. 

“I saw you downstairs,” he says. “Touching Van Eck.” 

Your brows lift, fists clenching. You don’t know what you expected from him, but it certainly hadn’t been a bold-faced lie! 

But then you start thinking of the moments before you saw Kaz head upstairs, laughing and playing Blackjack before you folded your hand to follow after him. You’d been sitting cross-legged on the threadbare rug, wedged between Wylan and Raske, when you noticed—Shit. 

Kaz is right, and that makes you want to scream. Why is Kaz always right? 

It was after you noticed Jesper was cheating, that he’d poorly marked the deck with daub; a sticky, ash-colored substance. You’d leaned in close to point it out to Wylan—your hand against his forearm, your lips dangerously close to the Merchling’s ear. After he noticed the marks, you both exchanged quiet giggles over just how bad Jesper was at swindling. 

Still, there had been nothing sexual about it. Nothing between you and Wylan. 

But, even if there was, why would Kaz care? 

I saw you—touching Van Eck. His words race through your mind, pulsing in time with the dull ache in your temple. Touch me, touch me, touch me. 

All of a sudden, the fog begins to clear. Something in your memory clicks. 

That night behind the brothels—when you were running from the Sweet Shop, when Kaz had been drenched in the blood of some Razorgull. Barefoot and frantic, you really had almost knocked him off his feet. Gloved hands had held your arms tight, keeping you still. His hair had been messy and your mind a blur—and when you’d seen the crimson smeared across his cheek, you hadn’t thought twice before wiping it away. 

You’d done what so few have. You had touched Kaz Brekker, skin-on-skin. 

Because you didn’t make me sick. 

When you don’t speak, Kaz shifts in his chair. Straightens an already-neat stacks of papers. “You won’t try and deny it?” he asks. 

Maybe you imagine the quaver in his voice. Or maybe you don’t. 

Either way, you start around his desk. Your every step is slow—cautious. 

You stop beside him, and Kaz shifts again. You’re standing closer than you’d usually dare to get, so close that you can hear it when he swallows. 

“You should go downstairs,” he tells you, lower than before. 

Your head tilts, hair shifting over one shoulder. “Is that what you want?” 

His answer hides in silence so thick it’s a tangible presence. It curls around you, makes gooseflesh prickle along your skin. Your mouth feels dry, your stomach like it’s tied in knots. 

Suddenly, you don’t need him to repeat what he’d said. 

As always, Kaz was right—you'd heard him the first time. 

“Ask me again.” The words drip from your tongue, an order and a plea. “Ask me and I’ll do it.” 

Kaz gives you a look, one you’ve never seen before. Dark eyes rove over you, brimming with worry and stress and—and Saints, a sense of desire so strong it makes your toes curl in your boots, a feeling like lightning coursing up your spine. 

In a voice like stone on stone, raspy and urgent, Kaz breathes out, “Touch me.” 

So you do. 

You cup his face, graze your thumb over his cheekbone. Kaz stiffens, swallowing once more—but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t try to pull away. 

“You know, to be such a bastard,” you start, a note of teasing in your voice, “you’re awfully pretty, Brekker.” 

Heat blooms against your palm, a deep blush crawling over his pale cheeks. 

“Shut up,” Kaz grumbles. 

You grin. “Want me to go downstairs?” 

A gasp rips from your throat as a gloved hand clamps around your wrist, Kaz pulling you down toward him. Anxiety still tightens his features, but beneath it he looks all too pleased with himself when you stumble clumsily into his lap. 

For the sake of comfort, you adjust your legs—careful for his bad one—and settle your arms over his shoulders. Then, when it fully settles that you’re straddling Kaz-fucking-Brekker, it gets a lot harder to breathe. 

“Should I take that as a no?” It sounds like a pant, your lungs constricting. 

He lifts the hem of your shirt, the feel of leather cool against your skin as Kaz jabs a finger into your side. “Do I always have to repeat myself around you?” he asks. Dark eyes dip past your jaw, his tongue gliding over his lips. You don’t think he actually cares to hear your answer, which is good—because you’re pretty sure you just forgot how to speak. 

Kaz drags his finger up the curve of your waist, his touch tentative and featherlight. It feels a lot like being studied—the way his dark brows knit together, staring at you as if you’re a magic trick he’s yet to master, a puzzle he hasn’t quite figured out. 

“It’s not because you’re fast,” he says, somewhat distracted. It takes a minute for you to realize that he’s referring to your earlier question—Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? 

“Good,” you manage. “Because I’m not.” 

The slightest twitch of a smile. “No.” He takes his time tracing over every divet in your ribs, slowly trailing up, up, up. “You’re not.” 

“But I didn’t make you sick.” You’re not prepared for the wave of sickness that comes with the reminder, stomach roiling. 

The Bastard’s Pet. Is that truly all you are? All you’re worth to the Dregs? Useless at saddling up next to sleazy merchants, but good enough to curl up at Kaz Brekker’s feet. 

As if he can read your mind, Kaz’s hand goes still against your side. “Wipe that sour look off your face, would you? If I only wanted you to touch me, I would’ve just come to the Sweet Shop instead of getting my ass chewed by Haskell.”

You wiggle just enough to knock one knee into his hip, glaring at him. Both of you pretend not to notice the catch in his breath—or the growing hardness straining against his trousers, pressed against your core. 

Gruff, Kaz continues, “You were in an alley and saw a man dripping with blood, and your first thought was to reach out and clean his cheek.” His head shakes, a strand of coal-black hair swaying near his temple. “It was ignorant,” he tells you. “And… decent. Innocent.” 

You almost laugh. Innocent. That’s hardly a word you’d use to describe yourself. Especially right now, your every muscle straining in an attempt to keep your hips perfectly still, hands folded at the base of his neck. 

“I didn’t know innocence like that could survive in the Barrel.” His hand starts again, tracing little shapes against your side. “Even if you never touched me again, I wasn’t gonna let Pekka Rollin’s crush someone like you between his grimy little fingers.” 

“So that’s the answer?” you ask, nibbling on your lip. “I’m in the Dregs cause I’m innocent?” What a reason to have someone join a gang. Hey, you seem pure! Wanna get corrupted? 

“You’re in the Dregs because you know how to persevere,” Kaz answers, holding your gaze. “How to get up and try again, no matter how many times you’re knocked down.” The sensation of smooth leather drifts higher. “Because you’re a survivor.” Your eyelids flutter, sucking in a breath as he palms the plump curve of your breast. “Because you’re loyal,” he starts, and it’s almost reverent the way he almost whispers, “my perfect little pet.” 

The world grinds to a halt. 

Outside of this room—this moment—nothing exists. 

Too quiet, you ask, “What do you want from me, Kaz?” 

You want him to feel in control, to be the one that decides how this is gonna go. But your self-restraint is a fraying cord, mere seconds from snapping in half. 

If it were up to you, how far would you go? How much of Kaz Brekker would you explore? As far as I could, you think, desperate. As much as he’d let me. 

That’s the trouble with dogs. They’re loyal and clingy, forgiving and insistent. They want for everything and take whatever they’re given. They’ll spend hours begging at your feet. Lick scraps from the floor until their tongues begin to bleed. 

When it comes to Kaz Brekker, you’ll take whatever he has to give. 

And you’ll never stop begging for more, more, more. 

“Everything.” His breath is warm against your lips, the leather cool on your breast. “I want everything.”

a/n - just in case anyone couldn't tell, i obviously just finished reading six of crows (yeah ik i'm very late to the party). i randomly started writing this while i was stuck in traffic and it just sort of spiraled over the past 24 hours and now here we are! this was born! idk if i'll get anymore kaz ideas, but it was fun writing something more dialogue heavy (dialogue has my heart<3)

[61below]

I really gd love how Cang Lan Jue digs into the way enmity just perpetuates enmity (unchecked) like, not only does Yunzhong immediately go ‘if she isn’t a fairy and she isn’t human, then she MUST be Yuezu’ but like the whole thing just escalated (so quickly) from what was just a genuine question that should have had an easy answer: what is XLH? And the thing is, we know that her true form can be read, that was like, the third thing DFQC did after meeting her. Including his instinctive reaction to kill all fairies on sight

So why couldn’t the high immortal, Sansheng, do it?

I think that the protection DFQC conferred upon her also protected her from any kind of magical intrusion or interference, too. Not just physical attacks, but magical ones. But like an anaphylaxis response to allergens, it’s not that good at telling the difference between an actual attack and just someone trying to … what, scan her meridians? Idfk how it works, but I’mna run with the idea that to sample something you gotta take a piece of it, so to ‘read’ her form, one has to dip into her qi. But the bone orchid registers that as HEY YOU DON’T BELONG HERE!!! and does the meridian-level equivalent of throwing up a wall of hellfire around her. Which is why what Sansheng projects ends up looking like flames. She can’t read XLH’s true form bc all she ‘sees’ is the firewall.

(… and ok now I’m actually interested in whether or not the Yuezu doctors were able to do any magical diagnostics on her. Like, did it not register as an ‘attack’ to the bone orchid bc it’s Yuezu cultivation? Did she refuse to let these nosy strangers even do a check? I am CURIOUS.)

But my POINT is that it’s really interesting that the story takes ‘here is someone just trying to defend what’s theirs, but the State of Hostilities is so Hot that even the very act of defense is seen as a Threat’ and gives ‘the INSTANT response to any Perceived Threat is with Aggression. Up to DEATH.’

… and where do you even begin to start conflict resolution from there? It’s no wonder things escalated as far as they did.

[cdroloisms]

What actually is the plan though? What does cdream want to to? Is it to reset the server, then wouldn't he not want to lose his memories

,,, i honestly have no idea what post of mine you might be responding to. tbh "what is the plan" is never a question we got answered in full, though i've spitballed my way through a few theories based on his ramblings in No Way Home -- i'll throw a link here and here even though i haven't read this post in months and have no idea how much of it i actually stand by at this point, tbh. i've also written up stuff on how whether or not the actual plan did involve killing everyone who was going to go against them (bc it's a little unclear how much of that is a show for Tommy and how much of that is truth based on the balance we know exists from XD as well), his actions don't seem to line up with his stated intent here. It does seem like they made a degree of discovery regarding the cycles/resets in the server, but it's kind of unclear how much they actually knew about the resets and what their course of action was going to be regarding them (did they want to trigger a reset or stop one from occurring, for example, because deaths are cited both as a reason why god is going to end the world by c!Dream and deaths are also cited as being needed to keep the balance intact. Dream says they need a reset, but also says that he wants to stop XD from making it so that the world ends.) c!Dream's actual desire has been pretty clear from the beginning--people living together in peace, as he's stated multiple times from the beginning and a lot of emphasis is put on with the last stream when c!Tommy realizes that what c!Dream wants is a simple life with his friends, just like he does, and c!Dream talks about how everyone can be immortal together and not worry about anything anymore--etc etc, but as for what the actual concrete plan was that c!Dream and c!Punz might've had when it comes to the supernatural side of things and the resets, etc, there's no one answer that's immediately apparent from the text.

as for the second part of your ask...look, I mean, yeah, sure, I'm guessing c!Dream (if he wants to reset the server and start over in peace) wouldn't want to lose his memories, of course. there's a chance that his plan was along the lines of resetting the server one last time and then, idfk, killing god, in my opinion. at the same time, though, while we don't have any super concrete proof, i do think it's worth mentioning that c!Dream was throwing up every kind of crazy death flag possible for the entirety of the finale streams, his actual death notwithstanding. Talking about dying a hero, death by suicide, the emphasis on Tommy's tower, if I have to sacrifice myself and everything I love, the fact that c!Tommy's entire final plea literally amounts to "holy shit you lived before you loved to live you can keep living again" and when we talk about c!Dream's "tower moment" and "talking him off the edge" i do very much mean talking him off the edge of a building he seemed a half-step away from toppling over in very much not the moral sense, and the entirety of the snake speech and put me down...

...look, I just don't know how much this guy, subconsciously or otherwise, even thought he was going to make it to the end of his plan.

[agaypanic]

could you do benny x male! reader where the readers an exchange from england and benny has a crush on the reader and to sort of cover it up he makes fun of readers accent but everyone can tell that hes crushing (idfk sorry im rlly bad at explaning) and one day reader sort if overhears benny talking to ethan or someone about him and realises benny likes the reader

if u dont wanna write this thats totally fine anyway thanks for reading :)

Benny Weir With a British Exchange Student Boyfriend Headcanons

Masterlist

Request Something!

A/N: despite having been to england before, i know basically nothing about what it’s like to live there so pls bear with me lmao also all the british slander is just jokes teehee. another thing, i’ve just realized how many times i use ethan’s house for the confession parts of fics, hope that doesn’t annoy you guys, it’s just that i feel like everything happens at his house lmao

***

The gang had taken you under their wings the minute they saw you

They were a group of outcasts in one way or another

You were the new kid from another country with an accent that was bound to get poked fun at

You fit right in

Kind of

Moving to Whitechapel on an exchange program seemed to be a lot less worrisome than you initially thought. For the most part, the town and the people around you seemed nice. You had even found a group of people who immediately decided to befriend you.

“Why do you talk like that?” Rory asked, staring at you while waiting for an answer. Ethan, whom you met first in one of your classes, answered for you.

“Rory, it’s a British accent. He’s from England.”

��British people are real?” Rory asked with complete sincerity. Everyone groaned while you tried to stifle a laugh.

“Wild, I know.” You responded.

They became some of the best friends you’ve ever had

Occasionally, they’d mock your accent or repeat something that you had said, but it was all in good fun

Benny, however, seemed to make mimicking your accent his favorite new hobby 

It sucked a bit, having a cute guy making fun of something you couldn’t really control, even if it wasn’t ill-intentioned

At least you hoped it wasn’t ill-intentioned

“When is this due again?” You asked, not looking up from the partner project you were working on with Benny. You could practically feel the grin forming on his face.

“I reckon it’s chews-day, innit?” Benny responded in an over-exaggerated and loud accent, making you groan.

“I don’t sound like that, Benny.”

“Sure you don’t, bruv.” You kicked his leg under the table, and the two of you laughed, although he did so with a wince. “Don’t worry, I’m only taking the piss, Y/n!”

“Jesus.” You shook your head, going back to your work. Benny was a bit funny with his impressions, but it could quickly get annoying.

“Bloody hell.”

“Benny.”

“I’m real knackered if I’m being honest.”

“You’re a real wanker, you know that right?” You rubbed your eyes in exhaustion, both from this project and from Benny. “You probably think you’re being cute, but you’re being stupid.”

“No need to get your knickers in a twist.” You happened to miss the blush spreading across Benny’s cheeks.

It was getting to a point where you wondered if Benny even liked you

He was nice to you and everything, but his making fun of how you talked was getting on your nerves

You had no idea why he did it; none of your other friends did it nearly as much as him

Before trying to confront him about it, you decided to ask Ethan about his best friend’s behavior

“Ethan, can I ask you something?” You asked as you and your friend walked to class.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Does Benny not like me or something?” Ethan looked confused, about to laugh at the question as if it was ridiculous. “I’m serious, Ethan! He’s constantly taking the piss out of how I talk.”

“Y/n, trust me, Benny likes you.”

“Well, he has the strangest way of showing it then. Can you at least talk to him for me? I’m really getting sick of it.”

Ethan sighed, waving his head back and forth as if considering his options.

“Fine, I’ll ask him.”

You decided to eavesdrop on Ethan and Benny when he went to talk to his friend

You wanted to hear the truth because you didn’t know if Ethan would relay Benny’s exact response to you

But the conversation took a turn that you were not expecting

You felt a bit bad for listening in on a conversation between two of your friends, but at the same time, it revolved around you. Of course, you wanted to hear what Benny had to say about your concerns.

“Hey man, so I was talking to Y/n-“Ethan was cut off by an excited Benny.

“Really? What were you guys talking about?”

“We were actually talking about you. Y/n-“

“Me? What did he say? Tell me, E.”

“I was getting to that, Benny! Y/n thinks you don’t like him. He thinks you only hang around him to make fun of him.”

“What? That’s crazy! Of course, I like Y/n.”

This was relieving, but it still didn’t explain his mocking.

“Yeah, Benny. Everyone knows that you’ve got a big fat crush on Y/n. Except for him, apparently.” You froze. That was definitely not what you were expecting. “Look, if you don’t wanna drive him away, maybe don’t make fun of him.”

“But I don’t want him to know that I like him.” Benny sounded defeated. He sighed. “Feelings are embarrassing, E.”

“You’re embarrassing, Benny.”

You didn’t know what to do with this new information 

Obviously, you were happy that he had a crush on you

But trying to throw everyone off by mocking you? That made you not so happy

So you decided to finally clear the air with Benny

“Benny, can I talk to you?” You didn’t wait for an answer, already leaving Ethan’s living room. Benny looked at your friends nervously before following, finding you sitting on the staircase.

“What’s up?”

“I know you fancy me.” It was better to be direct because if you tried beating around the bush, neither of you would get anywhere. Benny froze, so you took it as a sign to continue. “Lucky for you, I like you back. But I’ve gotta tell ya, imitation is not the sincerest form of flattery, Benny. It’s honestly rather annoying.”

It took Benny a while to form a thought, let alone a response.

“... I’m sorry?” 

“Are you asking me if you’re sorry?” You snorted.

“No! No, no, no. I am sorry. Really, I am.” Benny rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, moving to sit next to you on the steps. “It’s just… feelings are weird and, like, kind of embarrassing, and I didn’t know how to act around you.”

“You’re kind of embarrassing, Benny.” he had a look of recognition, probably remembering his conversation with Ethan. But before he could say anything about it, you patted his thigh and, feeling bold, kissed his cheek. “Luckily, you’re cute. So I’ll let it slide.”

[redrawthecolorlessworld]

Rhymix: Side Story 1: The Dove and the Crow — Chapter 2: Prohibited

idfk ok

anyways bird yaoi on yaoi day. perfect occasion right~? :3

———

Driven with even more curiosity, Ringed Genesis decided to visit Trap Crow more regularly.

He would come into the Realm of the Almighty, find Momento (if he doesn't find him, he'll settle with finding Callima Karma instead), get escorted into the realm's prison, and then meet Trap Crow there.

A peculiar thing that Ringed Genesis noticed during his visits is that whenever he asks Trap Crow how he ended up in his cage to begin with, the crow never wants to answer. It's an odd detail that Ringed Genesis noticed, it's small yet it makes Ringed Genesis feel a bit uneasy.

Today is another one of those days where he visits Trap Crow. The moment he arrives at the Realm of the Almighty, he is immediately greeted by the sight of Amazing Mighty and Tsunagite talking to each other. Ever since Tsunagite managed to stop Pandora Paradox from doing her bullshit for a second time, she visits the Realm of the Almighty regularly just to see how Pandora is doing. It's...cute, to say the least, to have someone care so much for the former Goddess.

Ringed Genesis stood there for a bit, observing them from a far, before seeing Amazing Mighty glance at him, finally noticing the dove. "Genesis! Hey~" The God greeted, and Ringed Genesis simply nodded back at him as his greeting, walking towards him and Tsunagite. "What's your business here?" Amazing Mighty then asked. "Ah, well, I am just here to visit Trap Crow, per usual." Ringed Genesis replies, a smile on his face.

...However, Amazing Mighty frowns.

It's clear he's not happy about this.

"...Huh?" He forces out. Tsunagite glances down, and she immediately takes a few steps back from Amazing Mighty as soon as she saw his hands clench up into fists. "...Why? Can I not?" Ringed Genesis asks, an eyebrow raised. Amazing Mighty was silent for a bit, before heaving out a very exasperated sigh. "I don't want you seeing him."

That statement surprised both Ringed Genesis and Tsunagite in an instant. "Eh? Why won't you allow him to see Trap Crow? Did Crow do something wrong?" Tsunagite asked the God, who immediately groans upon hearing her question. "Yes! He did do something wrong! And because of that, I don't want the two of them meeting at all!" Amazing Mighty exclaimed in anger, before glancing over to Ringed Genesis.

"You can either stay in this faction of the realm, or leave and go back home." He then said, clear rage in his voice. Being presented with two choices like this doesn't feel right. All this time, Ringed Genesis has been making visits to Trap Crow's cage regularly without Amazing Mighty's knowledge, so this reaction caught the dove off-guard for a bit.

Trap Crow did something wrong? Surely. Why else would he be in his cage to begin with?

But to the point where not even Amazing Mighty wants him visiting the crow?

That's ridiculous to Ringed Genesis.

So that's why, he decided to rebel for once.

"Hmph. Well I can do whatever I want. You can't treat me like a child, sir. I am old enough to decide whether I want to visit someone while they are imprisoned within a faction of this realm or not." Ringed Genesis retorts, before quickly walking away from Amazing Mighty and Tsunagite. "And you can't stop me."

Ringed Genesis could hear Amazing Mighty call out his name from behind him, but no footsteps could be heard trailing behind. Doesn't seem like the God will actually stop him anytime soon...or maybe Tsunagite stopped him before he could follow the dove?

Ringed Genesis genuinely doesn't know at this rate.

———

"You came to visit me? Again?"

"Obviously. Why wouldn't I?"

Walking into the dark area where Trap Crow's cage should be, Ringed Genesis could see him already glaring at him intensely. It's like there is an immense hatred in Trap Crow's heart that's directed to the dove and the dove only. That isn't really Genesis' main concern as of now, though.

"Well it's just that- you don't have much use in visiting him other than to...ask me the same question over and over again." Trap Crow replies, a frown on his face as he grips a bar of his cage. Ringed Genesis simply gives the crow a small smile—one that made Trap Crow feel like he's surrounded by light.

Which is perfectly normal, because really, Ringed Genesis is the one who is blessed by the Light.

Meanwhile, Trap Crow is just a wretched being who is cursed by the Conflict.

Trap Crow doesn't smile back, instead grimacing. "Don't look at me like that..." He blurts out, and Ringed Genesis chuckles at that. It's cute.

Trap Crow is cute.

...

...

...

Wait.

What?

Ringed Genesis' eyes widens slightly at the realization of his thoughts, before quickly shaking them away. 'No, no. Stop that, Genesis. You've only known him for a few days.' He thought to himself. The dove quickly steals a glance towards the crow, who is clearly ignoring him, a sad look on his face.

'However...'

...

'...Why do I feel like I've known him for ages?'

[lundenloves]

okay so like.. hello(🦗🦟🦗🦟🦗🦟🦗🦟).. I had this sudden like.. yk. QUESTION. (and I don’t mind if you don’t answer but I’m curious as hell and can’t get over it..)

OKAY. SO. YES. TO THE POINT- Do you possibly think Ghost/Simon would ever cheat on his wife/gf/s/o..? Like genuinely wondering if it, by any chance, would ever possibly happen.

I’m curious that if it ever WOULD end up happening, why would it or what would possibly need to even happen or change for him to get to a point where he decides to actually cheat on his lover..

Like, would it be out of loneliness or maybe anger or full-on frustration or because of a fight or anything like that. Or maybe even because he feels like he isn’t getting enough from her or that he isn’t getting satisfied and then decides to suddenly start doing things (stuff..) with someone else and then.. Yk.. CHEAT..?

(Idfk why I’m so curious about this shit specifically but it’s so hard not to ask because it’s just.. oh my god.. ifykyk.. this thought is like literal venom to my brain, I can’t even lie.. THANK YOU BROSKI IF YOU READ THIS AND/OR ANSWER TOO💃💃💃)

oh how i wish i could reply with a voicenote.

my ultimate answer would be no.

i don’t think it would be likely to happen for a multitude of reasons, and i’ll explain them.

he is an independent person. it’s all over him, the way he is, his personality, his interactions, it’s just everywhere. in reality, i don’t think he would even have a partner in the first place. it’s scary. he doesn’t want to be vulnerable enough to have someone that close to him, not even for their sake — but his own. he’s selfish but shy, angry but quiet and a fucking mixed bag of emotions that aren’t exactly tailored for a healthy start.

so let’s say he did find a girlfriend. someone that spent a lot of time with him, time he hated mind you but time regardless. working him down to feel less vulnerable and small around her, just bringing him back to simon. yes? ok? fantastic?

it’s like getting 95% completion on a game and seeing the end, just about to reach it—

oh? but no. you’ve pulled the plug and started again. that’s what it would be like for him to cheat. ultimately detrimental to himself.

no amount of loneliness would ever push him to seek company from someone else, nor would frustration or upset, not even lack of satisfaction. all of these things are easily brushed off as things he could personally find in himself. even if it’s bullshit, and a transparent wall.

you know?

[maybeimamuppet]

i'll be there for christmas II

YEEHA HAPPY MEAN GIRLS DAY MY BELOVEDS!!!!!

schedule is gonna be even more wack than it normally is for a bit lol. i have this and something drafted for halloween but beyond that. idfk what’s going on. but it should be fun!! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

this is a sort of spiritual successor to i’ll be there for christmas bc some people (read: like two lol) wanted to see more of these versions of them and tbh so did i so here it is!! it was originally entirely different but i read @ijustwanttoescapethatfrog s fic Come In With the Rain on ao3 and simply fell in love with it (go read it now her writing is simply majestic and that story is so comforting istg i’ve read it at least 14 times) so i wrote a new little thing inspired by that and here it is yeeha happy day!!

i don’t think i need any tws for this one (shock horror) but if i’m forgetting something please let me know and i will add it in!! enjoy!

—————

“Mommy?”

Janis wakes with a snort when she hears the little whisper come from behind her. She tries to roll over and realizes she’s much more cramped for room than normal in the massive bed she shares with her wife. She opens her eyes as she’s facing the other way and finds herself less than an inch from her son’s sweet little face.

She smiles to herself as she sees his little brown eyes right in front of her and brings up a hand to stroke through his strawberry blonde hair. Her voice is still soft and croaky with sleep when she says, “Hi, Jakey. What’s the matter?”

“I scared,” Jacob whispers, following his statement with a pitiful pout. Janis pouts too, and gently tickles behind his ear.

“You’re scared?” she asks. Jacob nods. “Uh oh. What are you scared of?”

As if to answer, a loud clap of thunder rumbles outside the large window. Jacob squeaks in fright and hides against Janis.

“Oh,” Janis says in understanding, gently holding the back of her son’s head as he buries his face in her chest. “Are you scared of the thunderstorm?”

Jacob nods. His little voice is muffled when he replies with, “Dunderstowm.”

“Thunderstorm,” Janis says with a little chuckle. “You wanna know a secret?”

Jacob pulls back just enough to look into her eyes and nods with that childish curiosity reflected in his own. Janis smiles and sneakily points to her wife behind him, still sound asleep.

“Mama’s scared of thunderstorms too.” Jacob’s eyes widen. Janis nods. “It’s true. She’s been scared of storms since she was your size.”

“Mama scared?” Jacob questions innocently. Janis smirks and peeks up and over him at her sleeping wife. She nods.

“I think she might be. You wanna wake her up and see?”

Jacob nods and crawls over to Cady. Cady’s asleep on her side, so Jacob hooks his little chin against her neck and cuddles in against her head. Cady snuffles awake and grumbles to herself. “Janis.”

“It okay, Mama,” Jacob says sweetly, patting her shoulder with his little hand. Janis can see Cady’s movements stop briefly in confusion. She gently brings a hand up and pats around on the head resting against hers. She chuckles to herself when she feels the little curls instead of Janis’ waves, and Janis can almost see the fond roll of her eyes even though Cady’s facing the other way.

“Jakey,” she groans. “It’s so early. Why aren’t you in bed, bubby?”

“Dunderstowm,” Jacob responds.

“What?” Cady asks. Another clap of thunder echoes her. “Oh, thunderstorm.”

“Mama scared?” Jacob asks in his infuriatingly precious baby way that has gotten him more than a few toys and treats he didn’t really need. Cady chuckles again and rolls over to press her nose against their son’s.

“Just a little,” she says. “Will you and Mommy cuddle me better?”

“An’ sissy?” Jacob asks.

“Where is sissy?” Janis asks.

“Sissy sweeping,” Jacob responds, rolling over to see her. “Hafta wate her up.”

“Let’s let sissy sleep for a bit, she’ll wake up when she’s ready,” Cady says, gently holding Jacob to her to distract him with cuddles before he can crawl out of bed to go wake up his twin sister.

“Yeah, sissy can get her cuddles when she wakes up. We want some mommies and Jakey time,” Janis says, squishing her son between herself and Cady and tickling his belly. Jacob chortles in their ears and wriggles to try in vain to get away from the tickles. Cady smiles and reaches down to tickle his little toes too, and winces as she gets a shriek in the ear in response.

They stop at the same time to let their child catch his breath back, smiling at his rosy cheeks and dimpled grin.

“Jay. It’s official,” Cady says, gently booping their son’s nose. Janis looks at her wife in confusion.

“What is?”

“We have the cutest kids in the world,” Cady says. Janis laughs.

“Of course we do. They’re us,” she hums haughtily. Cady laughs too. “And mostly you.”

“Shut-” Cady begins to say fondly before she remembers their company. “Shush.”

“Never,” Janis laughs maniacally, snatching their son and rolling over onto her back to hold him up like an airplane. Jacob squeals happily and laughs as he looks down at his mothers. Cady rolls to see him too, and takes him as Janis moves him close for a transfer. Jacob continues giggling as Cady steers him around before she brings him in for a landing.

“Where did you get these jammies, pumpkin? I don’t remember buying these,” Cady asks, gently adjusting the top of the pale blue and white gingham pajamas away from his neck.

“From gwanmuvver,” Jacob responds.

“Of course,” Cady sighs affectionately. Her mother was arguably more excited than she and Janis were when it was announced Janis was pregnant with twins. They don’t get spoiled much more than their other cousins, but the twins do have an extra special bond with their extended family.

Another clap of thunder booms outside. Jacob squeaks in fright and looks to his mothers for comfort.

“It’s okay, sweet boy,” Cady says lowly, resting a comforting hand on his chest. “It’s just a scary noise, it won’t hurt you. Mama won’t let it hurt my babies.”

Just then, they hear his twin crying through the baby monitor. Cady sighs to herself as she pulls the covers off herself and stands up.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, stretching and sliding her feet into her slippers before padding down the hall towards the twins’ room. Janis cuddles their son and smiles as she listens to her wife with their daughter Isla through the baby monitor.

“Good morning, sweet pea, what’s the matter? Did the storm wake you up?” Cady asks, so low Janis can barely make out what she’s saying.

“Eated bubby!” Isla wails. Cady laughs a bit, and Janis can hear a rustling as she scoops their daughter up to comfort her.

“No, baby, no, bubby’s fine! He’s with Mommy in the big bed. He got scared of the storm too,” Cady hushes. “Come here, I’ll show you. Everybody’s okay, baby, it’s okay.”

Janis hears the floorboards in the hallway creaking again, and then Cady reappears with their daughter in her arms. Isla’s little face is teary and red, but she seems to calm down a little when she sees her twin was, in fact, not eaten by the thunderstorm, and is perfectly fine with their mommy in bed.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” Janis greets sadly. Isla reaches out for her, so Janis takes her and kisses her forehead before her daughter nuzzles her little button nose into her neck with a sniffle. “What’s the matter?”

“Funder loud,” Isla sniffs quietly. “An’ no bubby. Got scawed.”

“Yeah, the thunder is loud. I’m sorry you thought bubby was gone, though. That’s scary,” Janis says. Cady climbs back into bed next to them and smiles gently, lying on her side to see her whole family.

Jacob is very concerned for his twin sister. He sits on his knees and leans in as close as he can to her face. “It okay, Iwa. I here.”

“Yeah, see?” Janis hushes, gently patting Isla’s back and stroking over one of her frizzy strawberry blonde braids. “Jakey was just in here, he’s okay.”

Isla shifts away from Janis in favor of tackling her brother in a hug. Jacob laughs heartily as he’s knocked backwards by the weight of his twin, and before they know it, Isla’s joining in. Cady picks her back up and sits her on her lap. Janis does the same with Jacob, and they all cuddle in together.

“This is quite nice,” Cady says softly, holding Isla’s head to her chest. Janis fidgets with Jacob’s ear and nods.

“Yeah, it is,” she responds.

“Tickle, Mommy,” Jacob giggles, batting her hand away with a little one. Janis chuckles.

“Sorry, munchkin.”

They sit in silence for a while. Cady cuddles their little girl close to herself, and Janis snuggles their little boy. Janis listens to Cady’s quiet sigh of contentment and smiles as she scoots closer to her for better cuddles. The rain keeps slamming against the large windows of their bedroom; falling from the sky in large, grey sheets. She can just see the shadows of the trees outside being blown and blustered in the wind.

But then she looks down and sees her family.

Cady has her head resting on her chest, halfway between lying on her back and her side. Isla and Jacob are wrapped monkey-style around each respective mother, looking as identical as fraternal twins can.

They always have. They popped out with the complete opposite features Janis had always envisioned their children having, but they were still absolutely perfect to both their mothers.

They have Cady’s hair and complexion; her freckles scattered all over their faces. Isla’s got her form, short and willowy, while Jacob takes a little more after Janis. He’s slightly taller than his twin, though not by much, and has a ruddier build. And, of course, they both have the most precious rosy cheeks, and Janis’ brown eyes. They’re lighter than her own, more of a honey-brown than the rich, dark, coffee tone of hers. But they’re her eyes, mirrored in their little ones, and she fell in love with them as soon as she saw them.

All she can really see now are three matching sets of strawberry blonde hair, and she smiles. It’s been almost twelve years since she first met Cady. Even back then, part of her longed deep down for mornings like this, though she’d never have admitted it then. Even as recently as five years ago, she’d have called you crazy if you told her this was in her near future. Twins? Come on.

But here they are.

Her beautiful wife tucked soundly against her side while they share a morning cuddle as a family to comfort their wee ones from a strangely soothing storm roaring outside.

And they’ve never been happier.

Cady suddenly whispers, “I love you.” And Janis knows she’s been thinking much the same things.

“I love you too,” she murmurs back. Cady tilts her head up to see her, bending her neck at a strange angle. She smiles as soon as she lays eyes on her wife, and Janis does the same. She tips her head up briefly for a sweet kiss, which Cady happily returns.

Another clap of thunder roars outside. Isla, who apparently was falling back asleep, whimpers and starts to cry again. Cady looks back down at her and gently scoots her up higher.

“Oh, pumpkin,” she coos sadly. “It’s okay, baby, I know. Mama’s here. Everybody’s here. We won’t let the storm hurt you.”

Jacob reaches a hand for his twin to hold. Isla takes it desperately and tries to calm down. Some extra loves from her mama help, but she’s still teary after a few minutes. Janis rubs her back and blows her kisses. Cady peppers little kisses to the top of her head and hugs her close against the softest part of her chest so the storm outside is muffled.

“Would you like to hear a story?” she asks.

Isla looks up at her with her heartbreakingly pink face. “Dowy?”

“Yeah, you want to hear a story?” Cady repeats, gently patting her back. Isla sniffles and nods.

Cady looks to Jacob, and he nods too. Cady smiles and settles back against Janis, looking up at the stars patterned on the ceiling as she begins. Janis rests her cheek against Cady’s hair and listens too.

“A long time ago,” Cady begins. “There was a lioness. She was the only lioness in her whoooole pride. And she was from a big one.”

Janis smiles faintly as she catches on to the story almost immediately.

“Mama?” Jacob interrupts.

“Yes, munchkin?” Cady responds, seeming perfectly delighted to be interrupted.

“Whassa lioneth?” Jacob asks. Cady chuckles a bit as his lisping.

“A lioness is a female lion. A girl lion,” she explains.

“Oh.”

Cady prepares to start the story again, but her deep breath is cut off by another, “Mama?”

This one came from Isla, so she looks down at her. “Yes, pumpkin?”

“Whassa pwide?” Isla asks in her adorable, sweet little voice.

Cady smiles. “A pride is what we call a family of lions. Or a group. So if we were all lions, we would be a pride.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe I should’ve made this about people,” Cady chuckles to herself. “Any more questions?”

The twins both shake their heads.

“Okay. So, there was a lioness from a very big pride, and she was the only one. She had lots of family around all the time, but she still felt lonely. Being the only girl with so many boys, sometimes her family didn’t pay attention to her. So she worked really, really hard to become the fastest runner, and the best hunter, and the best swimmer, and everything she could do to beat the boys.

“But it didn’t work. Her pride decided that she had to find someone to marry soon, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She had to do it anyway, or they would be very upset with her.

“She was upset, so she went for a walk all around her home on the savanna. And she met lots and lots of different animals. Elephants and gazelles and crocodiles and ostriches and monkeys and all sorts. She made friends with a few creatures she thought she would never even meet, and she almost managed to forget about what her pride had said.

“But then one day, while she was still on her walk, she met the most beautiful zebra. She had gorgeous stripes and a very nice mane. But she had accidentally pushed the zebra into the watering hole, so she and the zebra had an argument. The lioness was sad, thinking she’d never see the zebra again.

“Until she went back the next day to the same watering hole, and found the same beautiful zebra. She had a chance to apologize, and they had a talk. The lioness knew her pride wouldn’t like the zebra. So she thought if she brought the zebra back to the den to pretend she found someone she loved, her pride might not ask her to get married again for a long time, and she could go back to doing what she wanted to do.

“So she asked the zebra, and the zebra happened to be a very brave zebra. She knew the lioness’ family could very well eat her alive, but she said yes, and she went anyway, just to help the lion.”

“I think the zebra had about a hundred thousand other reasons,” Janis pipes up. Cady gives her a gentle whack and continues her story.

“The lioness was right at first. Her pride didn’t approve of the zebra. They tried everything they could to get rid of her, but none of them worked. The zebra wanted to stay, so she did. And throughout her stay, she and the lioness had a lot of time alone together. They had a lot of chances to talk and really get to know each other. They told each other things they had never told anyone before.

“And eventually… they fell in love. But they had to stay hidden, because the lioness’ family still didn’t like the zebra.”

“Why not?” Isla asks sadly.

“Because she was different,” Cady explains gently. “They had never met someone like her before, and they knew she could change everything for them, but they liked how things were.”

“Oh,” Isla responds. Cady gently tickles her nose with the end of one of her frizzy braids and keeps going.

“Then one day, the zebra and the lioness had a big fight, in front of the whole savanna. Everyone saw, and they all found out that they were in love. The lioness’ parents found out too, and they tried to make the zebra leave. The zebra was afraid, and she agreed to go. But when the lioness found out, she was so angry. She had a big fight with her parents and threatened to run away for good if they continued being so horrible to the zebra.

“And it took a long time, but eventually the lioness’ family realized a few things changing weren’t so bad. They grew to love the zebra just as much as their own cubs. And the lion and the zebra got married, and they had two absolutely perfect little babies. And they lived happily ever after.”

Janis smiles as the story comes to an end, and thanks the stars her children don’t yet have reason to question how a lion and a zebra could have babies, especially with both being girls.

“Good dowy, Mama,” Jacob says. Cady laughs.

“Thank you, honeybunches.”

“Da zeeba lub da lion too?” Isla questions urgently.

“The zebra loved the lion very, very much,” Janis responds soothingly. “She still does.”

“The lion loves the zebra too,” Cady says softly.

“Dowy ‘gain?” Jacob asks sweetly. Cady smiles and ruffles his hair.

“I’m sure you’ll hear it again someday. How about we see about breakfast now?” she responds.

“Okay,” Jacob says, happily crawling out of the bed and running as fast as his little legs will carry him towards the door. He stands on his tiptoes to try to open it, but still isn’t quite tall enough to reach properly. “Nee’ hewp, p’ease.”

Cady hands Isla to Janis and rolls out of bed to help him open the door. “Very nice manners, pumpkin.”

Jacob smiles up at her before he goes toddling down the hallway towards the stairs. Cady follows quickly to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself, and Janis and Isla bring up the rear together, content to take things slow on this leisurely morning.

By the time they’re all in the kitchen, Jacob has resorted to trying to climb the fridge to see inside. Cady laughs and scoops him up. “What should we have for breakfast, my little treasures?”

“A muffin,” Isla suggests, looking at her mama with that adorable sleepy smile on her face when Janis sets her next to her twin on the counter. She jumps at another loud clap of thunder, but Jacob takes her hand to hold again and they both noticeably calm.

“A muffin? That’s a good idea. What kind of muffin?” Cady asks, leaning against the counter in front of them and kissing each of their little button noses.

“Dawbaby,” Jacob suggests. Cady tilts her head.

“Huh?”

“Dawbaby,” Jacob repeats.

Janis comes up next to her wife, trying to piece together what their son is trying to say. What could go in a muffin?

“Oh, strawberry?” Janis asks. Jacob nods eagerly.

“Yes! Dawbaby muffin.”

“Strawberry muffin,” Janis repeats. “What do you think, I? Strawberry muffins strike your fancy?”

“Yeah,” Isla says softly with a nod. Janis smiles and kisses her cheek.

“Strawberry muffins it is, then,” she says.

“Lucky we got strawberries with our last delivery,” Cady says, pulling the large carton out of the fridge.

She had been quite insistent on them leading as normal a life as possible once the twins were born, but Janis was just as insistent on allowing them a few luxuries here and there. A house that might be a bit larger than they need, expensive bassinets when the twins were newborns, hired help to keep the house clean and the gardens maintained. And, her favorite part, grocery deliveries. Not having to shop for her own groceries is worth the inordinate delivery price they pay once a week.

Cady carries each baby to the sink to help wash their hands while Janis washes the strawberries on the other side of the large basin. She gives each of them one to snack on while they wait for the muffin process to begin.

Cady preheats the oven and grabs a bowl while Janis dries the twins’ chubby little hands. It took them a while, but both Cady and Janis know this recipe by heart. It’s been one of their personal favorites for years, and they make them even more frequently now that they have an extra two little mouths to feed.

Cady rests the bowl by the twins and starts measuring out all the ingredients. Janis grabs a cutting board and knife to start chopping their titular berries into small enough chunks for the muffins. She smiles to herself. She’s glad Cady’s so comfortable in the kitchen now. She remembers vividly what their first time ‘cooking’ together was like. It was fun, but nerve wracking for the both of them for several reasons. Now, Cady handles measuring the dry ingredients out like a pro, even with two little ‘helpers’ scrutinizing her every move.

She hands Isla the first measuring cup of flour, and Jacob the second. Jacob gets to add the baking soda, and Isla the salt. They continue roughly in this fashion, knowing full well what’ll happen if they don’t, with all the dry ingredients. Then comes the rest, which get mixed in another bowl.

Things go smoothly with the butter, and the milk, but a small toddler-sized snag comes when they get to the eggs. Jacob bursts into tears as soon as Cady cracks the first one in. “I do it!”

Cady freezes with the eggshell still in her hand. She quickly tosses it into the garbage and comes back to comfort their son. “You wanted to do the egg?”

“I do it!” Jacob wails again.

“Oh, honey,” Cady says soothingly. “It’s okay, you still helped lots! Eggs are messy, I didn’t want you to get your pajamas dirty.”

“I do egg!”

“I know, baby, I hear you,” Cady says. “Can Mama hold you?”

Jacob nods, so Cady picks him up. He cuddles in and wails against her shoulder.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask if you wanted to help with the eggs. I know you’re frustrated you didn’t get to,” she says. “But you still helped us so much!”

“Egg,” Jacob sobs.

“I know, I know, you’re so sad about the eggs,” Cady hushes, trying not to laugh at her son’s succinct explanation for his (by his standards) very small tantrum. “You can help with the eggs next time, how about that?”

Jacob just wails again. Cady hushes him and gives him a little bounce.

“Shh. Here, I’ll even write it down so Mommy and I don’t forget, how about that?” she offers. She grabs a sticky note and a pen from the drawer and sets Jacob back on the counter to scrawl a short memo. Jacob finally goes quiet as he watches her hand move. “There. It says, ‘Jakey gets to crack the eggs next time.’ So now we won’t forget.”

She pins it to the bulletin board that hangs on the wall near the entrance to the kitchen. She hears Jacob sniffle behind her as she pushes the tack into it.

“Better?” she asks, gently drying the remaining tears from his pink cheeks. He nods with another sniff. “Good. Somebody’s sleepy, huh?”

“No,” Jacob protests immediately. Janis snorts quietly as she scoops all the chopped berries into their bowl.

“No? Not sleepy? You were up early,” she reminds. “We all were.”

“Not sheepy,” Jacob insists. Janis smiles. “Whatever you say, munchkin. What about you, chickadee, are you sleepy?” she asks, looking at Isla, who’s already on the verge of falling back asleep where she sits on the counter. Her eyes keep fluttering, and her head is clearly impossibly heavy, if the way she keeps tipping it from side to side is anything to go by.

“Yeah,” Isla yawns. Janis laughs at her admission. “Deepy.”

“You wanna go take a nap?”

“No,” Isla says with a shake of her head. She points to the bowl Cady is stirring the strawberries into.

“Oh, you want your muffin first?” Janis asks with a chuckle. Isla nods. “I see. We’ll get you your muffin, then.”

Jacob is satisfied with helping Janis scoop the muffin batter into the pan, while Isla watches with heavy eyes from Cady’s loving hold. They have a slow waltz around the kitchen while their breakfast bakes; Janis holding Isla and Cady with Jacob.

The twins get sat back on the counter once the muffins are out of the oven and cool enough to eat. They’re still nice and warm and fluffy, and everyone hums happily as they dig in with their first bites.

Isla’s eyes start fluttering even more as she nibbles on her muffin, and eventually she completely falls asleep into it. The muffin comes out a bit smushed when Cady gently lifts her head from it, and a few crumbs stick with her, but she doesn’t wake up. Jacob cackles so hard he almost falls off the counter when he sees the state of his sister’s muffin, laughing his adorably sweet baby laugh around a bite of delicious strawberry muffin.

“Sleepy little girl,” Cady hums affectionately as she brushes a crumb away from Isla’s eyebrow and picks her off the counter. She almost made it to morning nap time anyway, so they’re content to just let her sleep the morning off. Cady makes a little nest of cushions and blankets in the living room and gently rests her baby bird into it before returning to her family in the kitchen.

“What do you think, bubs? Good muffins?” Janis asks. Jacob nods happily around a large bite.

“Be careful,” Cady chides lovingly around a laugh. “Don’t choke.”

Jacob smiles at her as best he can with his mouth full of muffin. Cady takes a large bite and does the same, making him laugh again. She leans in for a little kiss, and he gives her a gentle peck in return.

Surprisingly, he finishes his whole muffin himself. The warmth and having his tummy full hit quickly, and he rapidly drifts off in almost the same way his sister did. Janis laughs and catches him before he can fall off the counter, and deposits him next to Isla in the living room. Cady finishes off her own muffin and brings Janis what remains of hers so they can sit together on the sofa.

Janis takes her muffin with a smile and a grateful kiss. Cady happily returns it and cuddles into Janis’ side, hugging her arm and looking at their babies asleep on the ground while her head rests on Janis’ shoulder. She takes a deep breath, absorbing the warmth and love of her wife as she looks around. Janis finishes her muffin and tugs Cady’s arms tighter around herself.

She looks at Cady when she feels a moisture soak into her shirt where her wife’s head rests. She frowns. “What’s the matter?”

“They’re going to leave us,” Cady whispers shakily, looking at the twins cuddled up in their sleep. “They’ll… go to college, maybe, or get married. They’ll grow up and they won’t need us anymore.”

Janis looks at the babies. “Cads, they’re not even two.”

“They almost are. Their birthday’s next month,” Cady defends with a sniffle.

“I know it is,” Janis snorts, burying her nose in her wife’s hair.

“Just look at them. How much they’ve changed in… almost two years. How much they’ve grown,” Cady continues softly. “They used to be so tiny.”

“To you,” Janis chuckles. Cady rolls her eyes.

“Just because they exited your vagina instead of mine,” she huffs.

“Why, Miss Cady Heron. How crass of you to say,” Janis taunts in an absolutely abysmal high society accent.

“That’s Mrs. Cady Heron to you,” Cady hums in her haughtiest voice. “Didn’t you hear I married an absolute heathen? It was quite big news.”

“Yeah, I did. Heard you married the hottest heathen in town,” Janis says. Cady whacks her, but Janis can feel her smiling.

“I sure did.” She breaks into giggles after the statement, and Janis can’t help but join. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Janis says softly.

“You know something?” Cady whispers.

“Hm?”

“I don’t think I’m afraid of storms anymore.”

—————

thank you for reading!! i hope everyone has a wonderful day and a wonderful october!!

lots of love, ezzy

[chowderofcats]

Questions & Answers // Q&A

If a question you have isn't answered here, please send an ask in our inbox and we'll add it if we see fit!

Thank you.

(A TLDR will be added at the bottom of each answer. I know the answers are lengthy, sorry for that!)

Q: Why did you make this blog?

A: I carry a lot of embarrassment and shame around my disorder. This blog was an idea encouraged by our therapist in hopes of finding community and positivity. I really want to be less ashamed about this disorder, as I can't even bring myself to talk to my closest friends about it. This blog is here both as an outlet for us to be ourselves and for me to feel less horrible about all of this.

TLDR: I want to be less embarrassed, and to find community. Therapist encouraged the blog.

Q: "Professionally recognized P-DID"?

A: Professionally recognized is a term we use in replacement of medically recognized as we see it as more fitting. We are not diagnosed and I don't want to accidentally imply we are.

Simply put, our therapist and psychiatrist both seem to agree we experience some form of multiplicity.

TLDR: Therapist + psychiatrist both agree, but it's not official/on paper.

Q: You're not diagnosed? Why?

A: As of now, we do not wish to seek a diagnosis for OSDDID. Such a disorder being on our medical record seems much more risky than not. First off, we are trying to immigrate and have heard that certain diagnoses will affect immigration, I don't want to hurt my chances of escaping where I live. As well as, while we are an adult, we do not support ourselves. Our parents would discover the diagnosis regardless of if we want them to (yes, we know theres privacy regulations in place for medical records. It really doesn't matter).

We have a trauma disorder for a reason. Please understand why that might not be the best for us. Perhaps in the future, we will, though.

TLDR: It's currently dangerous for us to get a diagnosis like this.

Q: How do you know you have P-DID?

A: We don't! I find it important to note that we can be wrong. We don't know if we have P-DID, DID, OSDD, etc. We really won't know until we get a proper diagnosis and/or proper screenings & assessments (we have had assessments in the past, but they weren't inherently for DID, only for our other diagnosis. Although I think we did get tested at some point? I'd need to contact my psychiatrist for that information). We, as of now, are only going off what we have discussed with our therapist and psychiatrist, alongside our own education and experiences (we are currently in college to make a pathway towards a career in therapy/counseling. Due to this, we have very fortunate opportunities to further our education and understandings of both ourselves and those around us).

All we do know for certain is that we experience severe disassociation, identity disturbances, memory loss, and what seems to be severe trauma (I don't really remember it all, and apparently, some happened pre-verbal, so idfk man).

TLDR: I don't know and won't until I get an actual diagnosis. I can only go off of the information I have currently.

Q: Are you planning on recovery or...

Absolutely, our disorders are hell on earth, and the sooner gone/made less shitty, the better. Still debating between final fusion and functional/healthy multiplicity. For healthy multiplicity, I think I'd only want one other alter to stay separate, two others at maximum. We used to have a major problem with splitting too much too often (likely a result of living in a high stress environment). I think it's calmed now, although I'm unsure. We've had lots of fusion between dissociative parts as of late (which is both good and bad in its own ways, since this hasn't been done in the most healthy of ways). Healing is slow, but I like to think that one step forward and two steps back only means I'll atleast know how to take the next two steps with ease. Progress is progress.

TLDR: Yes. Obviously.

Q: Why do you use both "we" and "I"?

A: I use "I" when referring to an individual thought, memory, emotion, etc, that applies to me specifically and not the whole(or majority) of the system. We use "we" when referring to general things, or widely known/accepted ideas, memories, etc, or just us as a whole.

TLDR: We = general, I = personal.

Q: Why are you so "introject-heavy"?

A: While it seems to be uncommon or rare, we are! I also, for once, may have a real answer to this. Growing up, ever since we started forming memories properly (and for reasons I don't understand), we've been creating OCs (original chatacters) as a coping mechanism. Disassociation was our main form of survival to get through traumatic situations, and usually, we did so with creating fictional characters.

If you wanted my guess? Since our brain already used fictional characters as a coping mechanism, our brain further applied the mechanism to what it decided we needed to "survive." Us having most of our alters be fictional characters or characters we made ourselves that got introjected makes a lot of sense. Our *only* safe space growing up was books and shows, which obviously centered around fictional characters. School and home life were both hostile, so we surrounded ourselves with imaginary things. Our only escape at the time was fiction.

Also, a note, introjects (be it fictives or not), are not the character, person, or thing that they represent. Introjects are simply alters that, when splitting, had absorbed traits from something external (such ad loved ones, characters, abusers, etc.) People who are not systems introject all the time, most commonly from loved ones. An example being when you start clicking with one of your friend and start subconsciously copying their mannerisms and personality traits. You can introject parts of anything into yourself subconsciously, fictional or not. It's incredibly normal! Introjects in systems are just more extreme cases of it.

TLDR: Brain has a weird ass coping mechanism and I don't know why it's there. Fiction was the only escape we had. + introjects aren't actual characters, just an alter that... introjected traits.

(Please understand all of the above information is written with my current knowledge, I can be wrong, and I likely am in various places. Be patient and understanding. I will correct any mistakes when I learn new information, you are free to contact me with concerns.)

[anomaly-hivemind]

The Gaymer Chair

Part One

Warning(s): why did i write this, porn without plot, masturbation, mildly dub-con, inanimate object porn, original non-binary character, dry humping, grinding, porn watching, internal monologue, crack treated seriously, vaginal fingering, toys, knotting dildos?, edging, android, oral(everyone?) overstimulation, dacryphilia if you squint, vaginal sex, praise kink,orgasm denial, orgasam control, brat, brat tamer

Summary: What do you do when you fall for the sexy ghost of your pastel gaming chair?

Part Two

Credit to @cafekitsune for the banners!

Chapter Two || The Gayer Chair

Wjian laid out on her bed as she scrolled through her phone searching for any answer.

“Wjian would you put your phone down for one minute, I told you not to worry about it,” Chaise said as they floated in the air next to Wjian. 

Wjian���s eyebrows furrowed and she huffed before flopping back into the pastel rainbow fluff that covered her bed.

“Ugh! It’s just frustrating. Like you’re here with me but you’re not here. It’s- like what if you disappear one day?”

“Mon Chou but that’s the thing I’m not going anywhere-

“But what if you do! What if you disappear and I never see you again!” Wjian cried out. Tears burned in her eyes and her fingers dug into the fuzzy fabric of the comforter.

“Aww Mon Ange are you in love with me or something?” Chaise asked teasingly, floating closer to her so they were eye to eye.

“Yeah I am, asshole. I’m trying to be serious here.” Wjian said her face flushed with color.

A warm for a dead person, and a lovesick grin came to Chaise’s face at Wjian’s words before he lowered himself to look in her eyes.

“Look Wjian, I love you a lot okay, and I really appreciate you trying to find a way to get me a physical body; it’s my greatest wish to be able to hold you in my arms and kiss your cute face. But it looks like it just isn’t possible and I don't want you to run yourself ragged. I want you to enjoy your life to the fullest.Because i sure couldn't,”

“I want that for you! I just need to find out how.” Wjian laid on her bed silent, twiddling with her bracelet as she tried to get any ideas. The dangling charms made soft chimes and they brushed against one another.

 Wjian suddenly shot up from her spot. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet meeting the soft fibers of the “my melody rug” she had placed down. Wjian walked over to her desk with hurried steps, swinging out the iconic pastel chair with eagerness and hastily flopping down on the flower cushion. Chaise drifted close behind her, eyes wide in curiosity.

“Wjian what are you doing now?” she looked up at him with a grin.

“I think I have someone that can help give me some ideas.” she clicked on the discord icon on her screen. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw that the person she needed was online. She clicked their profile and typed a quick message. 

Yoo!LANDRY I need you to ask you a question, stop talking to your MoMMy for a sec.

Just ASK the Quwstion then!

Oh… so if were to want to give a ghost a body how would u dothat.

Idfk is this a sex thing?

No… 

Maybe a lil but thats not the point what could i use as a “vessel”?  

A robot maybe or just one of those life size anime sex dolls.

YOu really are a genius!<3 you can go back to getting e-FUCKED  by your Dommy mommy XD 

Shut up, have fun with you sex toy! <3

THANKs.:)

“Is your plan to make me a sex toy?” He gave her a smirk.

“Nope, I got an even better idea.”

“That being?”

“I'm going to call my rich cousin to see if he can whip you up a body.” Wjian gave him a large smile before running over to grab her phone to make the phone call.

==============================================================

A black unbranded truck pulled up in front of Wjian’s home. A bald man walked out of the truck and pulled the rear door. Wjian expectantly walked outside to greet the man. Wjian’s mother walked to her open front door, so she could see what her daughter was up to. 

“Is that Paul?” her mother spoke, her voice prompting the man to look up at her. When the man looked up at her, he gave her a small wave which the mother returned before walking back inside. 

The trucker handed Wjian a clipboard and told her to sign. She skimmed through the text then took the pin and signed her signature. The man took the board and threw it into his open window. He gently dragged the box out of the side of the truck, he placed it on the ground carefully and placed his hands on his hips, his chest heaving with labored breaths.

Wjian thanked the man who wheeled the large box into her house. Even though he was obviously out of breath by the end of bringing it in. Wjian slowly pushed the large box into her room.

The box was almost a foot taller than she was. She grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the box up as if she was opening a holiday present. Inside the box laid a tall, lean body. Their rich, dark brown skin had a nice healthy glow, like they had been recently moisturized. Wjian smiled as tears brimmed in her eyes; she couldn’t believe that Chaise was actually standing in front of her, her Chaise, in physical form. The android body was perfect from the soft curves in their face to the bouncy black curls. Wjian looked up at the Chaise who had been floating above her while she opened the box. He looked down between the box and Wjian astounded. 

“Do you think… will this work?”

“I sure as hell am going to try.” 

“Promise you won't just disappear.” She looked at him with hopeful but worried eyes. He gave her an uncertain look but nodded anyway. He drifted into the android and his translucent body vanished. The room was filled with eerie silence.  

Wjian clasped her hands together, rubbing them slightly as sweat formed between them. Come on… Come on!

Chaise’s android body then whirred to life, their eyes fluttering as they leaned forward and stumbled out of the box.

“Chaise?” she leaned closer into the android body.

“Oui, Mon cher?” Chaise smiled.

Wjian carefully reached out her hand and gently caressed the side of their face. They were cool to the touch but not cold, and their skin was soft just like how it looked. He leaned into her warmth as if he was trying to steal it from her. He placed their hand on top of hers. Their eyes meet each other; their faces grow into smiles as they lose themselves in each other’s eyes.

==============================================================

Chaise had fully gotten into the groove of using his android body and stopped touching himself like he was a new car that is. Took them a full month to work it the way he would any human body, minus needing to eat even though he likes to snack, and needing charging but depending on which port he uses he can look like any person sleeping. 

Chaise and Wjian laid on her pastel comforter enjoying the presence of them close to one another. Chaise pulls Wjian to themself, he breathes deeply into her neck even though he didn’t need to. He pressed a faint kiss against a sweet spot on her collarbone.

“Mmh… Mi Tesoro,” Wjian called gently to the android lying against her chest.

“Oui?” 

“Will you try on your new clothes for me?” She asked massaging her fingers against their scalp.

“But mon ange, I’m so comfortable here in your arms~” Chaise said, squeezing her closer to them.

“I wanna see you look even cuter than you usually do! I just want to spoil you querido~” Wjian whined. 

“Mon Chou-”

Before he could finish Wjian pressed a kiss to Chaise’s lips. Their lips join in an enamored kiss, taking up each other's space in a fervor of loving emotions. Chaise held her chin gently in the kiss enjoying the moment as if it were his last then pulled away.

“Okay I’ll give you your little fashion show.” Chaise sat up and turned to face Wjian, holding her face in their hands as they peppered kisses across her face.

Chaise pressed one last lingering kiss to Wjian’s lips then walked across the room to the rack where all the new clothes Wjian had bought were located.

When his new body came, they had nothing but the scrubs they came in along with two extra pairs. Fortunately Chaise didn’t have to keep wearing them after they finished the set up process of their body, as Wjian’s generous benefactor cousin had sent some money to buy a wardrobe and accessories. Albeit they did send way too much money, Wjian had fun picking out clothes with Chaise so that was all that mattered to them.

Wjian had gone a little overboard with it though…

After buying clothes, shoes, and accessories in person they also bought hair dye so Chaise’s hair could look the way it did when they were a ghost; why the factory that made his body couldn’t do it they’ll never understand, Wjian had requested it after all. 

When seeing how cute he looked Wjian insisted that they took pictures for her socials, then that they have a photoshoot to commemorate the occasion, so then she had to buy matching clothes. Then on an impulse she ordered even more clothes and accessories online.

“Okay let's see what I haven’t tried on yet. Chaise pushed back their fresh locs, gathering them up into one hand and wrapping them securely with a pastel pink satin scrunchie.

After browsing through the large selection of clothes on the rack they decided on a pair of light washed overalls with cute patches and a cropped pastel pink, yellow, and blue striped sweater.

Meanwhile on the bed Wjian scrolled through her favorite clothing store’s app to buy even more clothes, this time for herself though. 

Their was a family reunion coming up and they were going to be staying at a five star resort. It would be the first time Chaise would be seeing her in a swimsuit and it would be the first trip they’ll have gone on together. Even if her family was their; she had to make sure she had a cute bathing suit for every day of the week.

Wjian looked up from her phone to see Chaise slipping out of the pastel robot sweatshirt and light blue shorts they wore.

“Ooh I think I like this outfit the best! Really sexy amor~”

“Haha very funny,” Chaise said, jiggling their legs to get the overalls on. They slipped on the sweater and snapped the buckles before bussin’ out a few poses.

“So? Have I… Captivated you Mon Amour?”

“Yeah you’ve captured my heart.”

“Tell me more, I didn’t know I did that~” Chaise teased as they walked ever so closer to Wjian.

“You were already as pretty as can be, then you put on those clothes and your hotness has been elevated to new heights. My heart was pounding so hard it broke out of my chest so it could belong to you and only you~”

“How Poetic, but that sounds painful Mon tendre, are you alright, I wouldn’t want you to die because of me,” Chaise knelt in front of her on the bed, taking her hand in theirs and trailing kisses upwards.

“I’ll be fine, your beauty heals me,so keep it.” she shrugged 

“alors je protégerai ton coeur pour toujours” he planted a  kiss on her knuckles. 

“You better” 

“Do I really look that splendid, Mon étoile?”

“Why of course. You really do look good in those clothes, but you would look even better on top of me,” Wjian smiled

“Oh. If you wanted me that’s all you had to say. I should’ve known a cockwhore like you only wanted one thing.” Wjian giggled, wrapping her arms around Chaise’s neck as she leaned in for a kiss.

Pulling each other to deepen their embrace; chests pushed against one another as they kissed. Wjian’s heartbeat sang at a fast paced rhythm as she slid under Chaise’s body. He leaned over her kissing between her lips and jaw. 

Wjian let out a pleasant sigh as she enjoyed the feeling of him actually touching her and pressing on her skin. Chaise ran their fingers across her stomach then stopped to rest at her waist. 

Chaise started to trail themself down her neck, switching spots on her with open mouth kisses. He licked a long strive along her collarbone. Making Wjian shiver and wiggle closer to him. She pushed her legs together for some friction but Chaise pulled her legs apart and placed himself in between her. 

“You’ll get to feel good when I let you feel good. C'est compris!” He bit down on her shoulder, leaving a faint forming mark. She nodded slowly while trying to keep herself from pressing her legs around him.

Wjian trailed her fingers on Chaise’s smooth skin as he marked her upper chest. His once coolish skin had a slowly growing warmth.

“mmHm…” Wjian let out a faint whimper as she craved more action; lightly tugging at his arm to her chest.

“What, does my Salope want more attention than what I am giving her?” He gropes at her breast, making her arch into his touch. He moved his leg forward into her, making her squirm. 

“If you don't say anything I'm going to keep doing what I want.” They removed their hand from her chest and smirked against her skin when she whined. 

“Please, I want you…” Wjian whispered out in a shaky voice. 

“What have I told you about not speaking up?” He scolded her and sat up off the bed and looked down at her. 

“I want you to touch me, I want to feel you in ways I couldn't before!” Wjian half shouted her waterline glistened with specks of salty tears. 

“que c'est chéri” he pulled her by the legs to the end of the bed. A smirk formed on his face as he crouched down between her thighs. Chaise kissed between her thighs trailing up to her waistband and sucking on her exposed midriff before they took the waistband of her leggings in between their teeth, pulling on it slowly.

Wjian struggled to hold in a giggle as Chaise waggled their eyebrows at her.

“Amor, come on you’ve gotten me all hot and bothered,” Wjian pouted.

“Good things come to those who are patient, Mon Chou,” Chaise smiled as they hooked their fingers on the inside of Wjian’s waistband before tugging them off and flinging them across the room.

Now in clear view Chaise could see Wjians soft pink panties. The material was sheer with little flowers embroidered and lace trim. 

Chaise leaned forward trailing small kisses up her thigh then stopped to stare at Wjian as he teasingly smiled at her. 

“You have a mischievous glint in your eyes. Why are you looking at me like that mi carino?” Wjian asked nervously, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Ma Cherie, your lustfulness always surprises me.” Wjian laughed nervously at Chaise’s comment as she rubbed her bare thighs together and turned her head to avoid his gaze.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know you planned on getting some from the start, these aren’t the same panties you had on this morning; didja think I wouldn’t notice?” Chaise asked, a wide grin sitting on their face

“You- you must have seen wrong, I’ve had these panties on all day.”

“Okay! But remember bad girls get punished~”

He ran his flat tongue up at her through her panties. Swapping a small circle over her clit. Saliva making a quick mess of her lingerie bottoms. Chaise held on to Wjian’s legs to keep her from wiggling about. Wjian's head lolled back into the edge of the pillow. Just as she was fully enjoying the sensation of his tongue he pulled away. 

“Eh- What? Hey~” Wjian whined, a pout forming on her face.

He let out a chuckle at the frazzled look she had when she looked down at him. 

“You wanna Tell the truth now?”

“Fine, I changed them when you were charging earlier! I may have been on reddit and gotten a little horny; but like today is the perfect day for us to break in your robo-cock and I wanted to dress for the occasion.” Wjian let out with a huff, her hands making wild gestures as she talked.

“Good girl; see that wasn’t so hard was it, now it’s time to reward my cute little slut.” Chaise grinned before leaning back down to eye level with her soaking arousal.

They pulled off her lingerie bottoms with his fingers. Pressed himself fully between her legs again. He rolled his tongue over her entrance causing her to let out a small cry. He slurped up her juices making obscene squelching noises that filled the room and likely the rest of the house, luckily they were home alone.

“A-aah Fuck that feels so good,” Wjian moaned, her thighs clamping around Chaise’s head.

“Divin goût ” Chaise groaned against her warm cunt, making her whole body shiver with ecstasy. 

He sucked on her clit making mini shapes in his mouth as he did. Wjian made short high pitched moans as she pulled Chaise closer to her cunt. Her fingers tangled in between his locs, wrapping her legs around his head. He slid his finger into her soaking pussy slowly pushing the digit along her walls. 

“More~”

“More what?” Chaise asked, pulling their finger out and brushing it up and down against her entrance.

“More fingers, please, mi corazon?”

“That’s a good little whore. I suppose so since you asked so sweetly.

They added another finger into her weeping heat and swirled his tongue in mixes with in hand movements. Wjian’s body began to tremble as she got closer to her climax. 

 His movements slowed down to almost stopping as he felt her tighten around his fingers resulting in a breathy whine. His eyes met with Wjian’s teary ones as she huffed out a half sob.

“I could use a bit of motivation chérie” 

“Please…” she pants  out. 

“You gotta be more convincing than that.” he speeds up for a moment then stops completely. 

“Please, Déjame terminar please i'll be good…lo juro!” she begs out to them. 

“c'est mieux” he kissed her inner thigh before diving back into her cunt. Moving his fingers in rhythm of his tasting her folds making Wjian’s toes curl. Her thighs began to shake in wanton as she tried to hold back a scream. 

“Don't hold back, let go.” Their voice slurred as he mumbled against her skin. He then made work getting her to finish.

“NaAhaA~” Wjian legged locked around Chaise as he nibbled on her clit. He pulled his fingers out and solely used his tongue to get her off. He placed his hand to pry open her shaking legs from around his neck. His tongue lapped across her wanting hole. Wjian felt like she was seeing stars as her whole body was hot. His tongue didn’t stop until he felt like he had thoroughly got the essence of Wjian’s juices. He only pulled back when she whined about being overstimulated. Real shame, chaise thought that she could have lasted at least two more times before getting to the main event. 

Chaise pulled leisurely away, the sweet taste of Wjian lingering on his artificial taste buds. He messaged her spazzing thighs as she calmed down from her high.

“To think you were practically begging for it and you’re crying about being overstimulated, how pathetic.” 

“It's your fault, you were edging me!” she pushed on his shoulder with her foot. Trying to make him stumble…it didn't work. He tighten his grip as warning but she just squirmed more even letting out a giggle as if she was challenging him. 

“Oh~ keep acting like that and I'll have to put you in your place, Morveuse.” He grabs her by said foot and yanks her to meet his waist. Tracing up from her foot to grab the pillow-like fat on her thighs.

Chaise pushed wjian’s legs apart and put themself in between her. He unclipped his overalls so he could strip off the multi-color sweater and let it fall to the floor.

Wjian sat up to gain a closer look, this would be the first time seeing Chaise’s “meat thermometer” for her, they had specifically hid it from view whenever she tried to take a peek; even while testing their water lock feature in the shower Chaise covered themselves with a washcloth.

“If you’re gonna be all up on it might as well suck me off,”

“… Y-eah yeah,” Wjian said slowly, her eyes entranced by the large bulge in Chaise’s Savage X Fenty “Rebel Cherub Lace Boxers” in shade “Black Caviar”. 

Wjian reached her hands up and snaked them around Chaise waist; the gentle caresses sent a chill up Chaise’s metal alloy vertebrate. Finally she pulled them down, allowing for the smooth cotton body fabric to pool around their ankles.

She runs her thumb over the length of their shift, faintly feeling him twitch. Circling the tip with her index finger to play with the strings of precum. 

“There’s a surprise waiting for you at the end of the rainbow.”

Her eyes light up at the mention of a surprise and without hesitation or thought she takes his taint in her mouth. Wrapping her tongue his head.

Chaise leans over her in shock, accidentally pushing himself deeper down her mouth. They let out a loud groan that almost sounded like it was distorted. Wjian moans around him at the sensation of his long schlong tickling her throat. Saliva dripped down her chin, while she looked up at him with lidded eyes as she awaited for him to move in her mouth. 

“Merde- mhm That's not what I meant ange…” He panted out; whipping away the drool that slipped out from her mouth. He looked away from her to regain their composure. 

“Just forget it, the mystery mousekatool is a surprise tool for later.” 

“Awhfw” she pouted around him causing him to let out a small whimper. He pulled himself out of her mouth with a pop, his dick  falling on the side of her face, faintly slapping her cheek. 

“Are you gonna fuck me now?” she pants out.

On the nightstand, Chaise’s phone rings cutting off what they were going to say, Walking over Chaise picked up much to Wjian’s dismay as she whined and scooted closer to him.

“Favorite Son-in-Law!” The voice came ringing through the phone. Wjian stared at Chaise while they paced around the room. 

“Hello ma'am, everything alright?” Chaise walked farther back so Wjian can no longer hear her mother on the other side of the phone. 

“Yeah I can go get it.” Chaise began putting clothes on and Wjian looked at him wide eyed. He got fully dressed and put the phone in his pocket.             

“What are you doing, Where are you going?” She jumped up but was quickly told to sit down. 

“Gotta go out and get something.” They opened one of Wjian’s drawers and pulled a vibrator and stood in front of her.

He grabbed her legs and parted them and slowly pushed the toy into her. She let out a groan as she tilted her head back. Pushing their thumb on the toy it started to vibrate causing Wjian to shiver. 

“écoute chérie, I'm going to step out for a moment so I need you to be the good girl I know you are and try not to cum until I get back.” he grabbed one of the pieces of fabric that was on the floor and wrapped it around her hands behind her making sure it’s tight enough so she can’t tug it out.

Chaise gets up, patting her head then walking to the door. 

“Also, don't touch yourself either, not like you can like that.” He smirked; walking out of the room then out of the house. 

Wjian flopped back onto the bed and pushed her legs together. A sheen of sweat began to form over her body. Her mind was fuzzy and she felt like she wasn’t in control of her body. The thing is she wasn’t in control and she loved it? Hated it? 

Whimpering and squirming around on her bed as she forces her composer into submission so she doesn't cum. 

Wjian POV 

My body was hot to the touch, my legs were quivering but felt numb at the same time. I am trying every possibility to kill my  libido but the constant swapping vibration between my legs is making it impossible. Where did Chaise go, why did he leave me like this and how much longer until They come back. What's going to happen if i cum before he gets back. I shiver at the thought of having to be punished because I couldn’t keep my own body in check.

The vibrator has been swapping between intensities ever since Chaise had left and I didn't realize what setting it was going to be on, until it was too late and the vibrations were on ten. 

It would start at one then go to five then back to one before skyrocketing to ten and ending on a random number until it repeats. I count the levels in order to keep my fleeting sanity.

One, five, one, ten, one, eight, one, five, one, Ten, one, Three, one, five, one, ten, one, one, one, five, one, ten…

My mindless muttering is the only thing I can hear as I try to keep up with the switching levels of my toy. I shifted my position which turned out to be the greatest worst decision I could have made. My shift in positioning only served to push the toy deeper inside my drippy cunt.

“Ah~” I tense up all over and I don't know if I can last another second. My blanket was sticking to my wet skin, I pressed my eyes shut and squeezed them tight as I reached a scaling breaking point. 

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, my whimpers filling the room; or maybe I was already crying and if that's the case I have no clue when it started. Whimpering out at random while I reach the closest version of calm could.  

“Agradar,PleasepleasepleasePlease.” I beg out to no one, or maybe I'm hoping Chaise will hear me from wherever the hell they have left me to. 

I’m sniffling around my tears. I think I'm going to pass out, my vision is getting slightly spotty. I whisper out random pleas or levels from the vibrator. 

“I'm back!” The sound of my Savior devil walked into the house. Or I could be hallucinating the sound of their voice as I lose consciousness. 

“Oh dear~” the sound of Chaise cooing at my slumping form.

Third Pov

Chaise untied Wjian’s arms and gently pulled out vibrator causing her to cry out and regain her senses. He heard her murmuring number patterns like it was her lifeline. Her legs were pretty much quaking in his hands. 

He began caressing her skin, soothing the muscles of her thighs. She held her arms around him giving their neck weak kisses. 

“You're absolutely soaking chère” he kissed her cheek and moved a thumb to her clit, stroking gentle half circles. 

Wjian bucked her hips into his touch with a shrill.

“je vais te baiser, miellat you think you can handle that?” He kissed her jaw and neck waiting for her answer. 

“Please…” wrapping her hands around his neck so she could so she can choke him pull him closer to herself. 

Chaise leaned in to Wjian, pulling her closer into her and pressed a slow deep kiss before trailing down her jaw and neck, peppering kisses.

Wjian let out a whiney moan moving her hand to caress his skin. Chaise ran his tongue along her neck and ended the trail with nibbling on her ear.

“Are you fully conscious and ready to go now?” They whispered into Wjian’s ear.

 “I was ready before you up and left me.” she wiggles under him, pressing her knee into their thigh; egging him on to do something other than kiss and massage her, not that she minds that she just wants more, needs it even. 

“I bet you were but I promise that you'll enjoy what I got later.” He situated himself fully above her so he looked down at her, smirking.

“I better…” She looks away from him only to become startled when he parts her legs. 

Chaise gives a satisfied hum at the look of his lover’s cunt to be still soaking. Swapping a finger over her to test her sensitivity. Deciding that she was on edge due to her whining he strips out of his clothes again and discarded them.

“Watch it! I could leave again if you want.” he slowly started to get up but she made a quick grab to stop him.

“That’s what I thought.” he pulled her to him; there hips colliding into each other. Squeezing the fluff of her thighs then put them around his waist.

Grabbing his dick in one hand, lubing his length with Wjian’s juices; collecting the glistening moisture by rubbing the tip in circles on her bajingo. They pushed the head of their dick into her with zero resistance making them both moan. Chaise bottomed out into Wjian. A sheen of sweat formed on Wjian’s forehead as she got used to the feeling of Chaise’s large size.

He was bigger and thicker than all the toys Wjian had. Her walls stretched to accommodate him. He planted light kisses on her skin as he waited for her go ahead. When she nods and tightens her hold on his arms, he smiles down at her.

He rolls his hips into her, offering Wjian playful shallow thrusts. She let out a faint sigh; wrapping her legs around their hips to push them deeper. Chaise continued to slowly roll into Wjian testing her waning patience with him.  

“This feels nice and all but can you go faster?” 

“Of course.” Chaise spoke through his cheeky smile. 

He quickened his pace but kept to the shallow thrust. Swaying his waist at an even pace that made Wjian let out groans. Rocking into her with an unbothered haste that made his arms flex a bit. They leaned into one another for a kiss that  gradually started getting sloppy.

Chaise leaned into Wjian’s chest and popped a titty in his mouth; sucking on her nipple between his teeth then going to the other and doing the same. Causing her to let out a surprised moan. She arched her back off the bed a little to meet his mouth. 

Chaise pulled out, unlocking her legs from around him. Before Wjian could furrow her brows and complain she was being flipped over onto her stomach. Yanking her thighs to meet his own, pulling her into an arch. 

Lining up with her again, working into her with stable thrust. She shivers in anticipation as his strokes built strength. Exchanging his once fast pace for more harder, focused movements that hit deep in her just right. 

She lets out a loud moan when he angles his hips to hit her G-spot, killing the scratching want that was crawling about her body. He kept ramming into her at the same angle to draw out the same passionate shrills. 

He traced his hand on her body: rubbing up her ass, squeezing the soft flesh, then holding in place with her hips, to her chest playing with them both in his smooth hand, pulling her back into him by the shoulder and finding a resting place at her neck. 

“Ah~” They pulled her up into him. 

“tu aimes cette salope” locking an arm around Wjian and gently squeezing the hand around her neck. Thrusting up into her with wanton that makes them both groan.

“Yes!” Wjian’s legs shook as the core winded tighter and tighter. “Sho~ good,” Wjian moaned out, her eyes rolling back into her head.

“Well I got something even better.” Chaise grinned deviously, a chill rain down Wjian’s spine; wetness pooled around Chaise’s disco stick and Wjian’s hips bucked closer to them. She was desperate for any kind of friction.

Chaise's heavy cock dragged slowly out of her and before Wjian could let out any sort of whine or complain Chaise pressed a finger to her plush lips.

Chaise sat down on the bed, his legs wide open.”And here we are, the grand surprise,”

“That your dick has LEDs?” Wjian asked with wide eyes.

“Wha- no you filled out my order request form why would you think that? I mean this!” Chaise grabbed Wjian’s hand guiding it to between their legs and behind their balls, was a familiar wetness. 

“Is this…”

“A pussy, yeah,”

Without any hesitation Wjian leaned towards Chaise, diving head first into their drippy inviting cunt.

“AH- fuck you greedy slut~” 

Wjian lapped at the gooey folds of Chaise’s muff. Chaise let out breathy moans as their fingers roughly grabbed Wjian’s blonde locks. She uttered a moan worthy of being on porn hub.

Chaise’s thighs clenched around Wjian’s head;the feeling that came from a clitoral orgasm was much different than what Chaise was usually used to. A clit was much more sensitive than a peen after all. The coil tightening deep in their core; winding and winding and winding; ready to snap at any given moment. 

“Shi-shit~” Chaise cried out as Wjian slipped two fingers into Chaise’s yes yes square (you see it’s not a no no square cause consent is key!) Wjian scissored her fingers, trying to loosen the tight gummy walls of Chaise’s vagina.

Wjian was on a mission and by the sudden moan and their back arching off the bed, Wjian had completed it. She had found Chaise’s g-spot

“That feel good, amor?” Wjian asked curling her fingers to continuously caress against Chaise’s sweet spot, whilst simultaneously sucking his clit.

“Yes yes yesss! Ohmygosh keep going!”

Chaise’s head lolled back;their locs swaying with the lash of his movements. Closing his eyes and letting out a shocking shrill that startled Wjian while she worked them through the new version of a high. Leaving him panting and blurry eyed for a moment. After Chaise came…down from their senses Wjian pulled away licking her lips with a pleased smirk. 

They pause for a moment, heartbeats matching into rhythmic pace. Wjian moved to rub Chaise’s back as their breathing returned to normal. Chaise leaned over to place a slow, tender kiss on her lips. 

Lining up with Wjian’s suffocatingly tight, warm, cozy, wet, welcoming tasty, not to mention torentally downpouringly wet, friendly, adorable, delicious, wet, open and experienced yet closed and selective, fun loving, needy(but also very generous), large and in charge - but at the same time small and timid, independent but also very codependent, womanly- yet strong, wet, soaking honeypot(wet pussy!). 

Chaise dived right into her dangerous and sexy ocean. Most men(women and enbies also) would drown in the sea of pleasure that was Wjian’s model type money making penis pocket but not Chaise. If Wjian was the wide and wondrous Caribbean then Chaise’s taint was the Wonder of the Seas Royal Caribbean International Cruise, large and in charge of her metaphorical dangerous waters.

Wjian let out a chorus of wanton moans as Chaise’s hips snapped against her ass cheeks, filling the room with lewd noises. 

“Hah- time to kick it into maximum overdrive,” Chaise said.

At their words Wjian was struck with confusion but it quickly became apparent by the overwhelming pleasure. 

It was vibrating. Chaise’s dick…

…Was Vibrating.

“Ah- FUCK!” Wjian exclaimed in confusion as her mind tried to comprehend the faint aggression of humbuzz that was now Chaise’s dick.

Chaise wrapped his arms around Wjian’s waist and flipped her around with precision and expertise. It all happened so quickly Wjian could barely comprehend it as she went from backshots to cowgirl.

“You handle me so well Amour,I could never get tired of this~”

“Oh dios, Ay dios mío!” she grabbed a hold of the arms that were wrapped around her. Chaise jackhammered into Wjian’s squelching cunt, her legs shaking as she struggled to hold herself up.

“Merde I’m so close,” Chaise groaned. 

“Come inside! I need your cum all inside my pussy!” Wjian proclaimed her tongue lolling out of her mouth.

“Oh~” Wjian's toes curled and she closed her eyes in an effort to savor her climbing climax that was falling into her grasp at a harsh velocity. 

As waves of euphoria washed over Wjian, Chaise’s hips slowed and stuttered unevenly. Sticky white hot ropes of cum shoot into Wjian’s meat muffler. It was exactly what the slut ordered.

“I'm proud of you, you lasted longer than I thought.”

Chaise pulled out, sighing in deep satisfaction. Wjian laid on their chest, gently kissing their jaw before turning her head back to a comfortable resting position and taking in their body heat.

The familiar white viscous dripped down her thighs. They both smiled with a sigh and sweat fell from her pores. While they could've turned off the seminal ejaculation, Wjian said it would be fine, because like any good slut, she loved a good creampie.

While yes she might’ve been sticky from sweat and cum and all types of other love juices; and while yes her legs and back would be severely sore in the morning, this is what she had longed for; What they both longed for.

The gentle skinship, the tender kisses, the loving caresses; and yes there were certain things that weren’t possible for the two of them, they could work around it, because now they really have time.

Chaise was here to stay, and so was this relationship. Wjian was a gay ass gamer and Chaise, who has been her gay ass gamer chair, got a little bit gayer.

NOTES: We, Mind of the Hive One, Eseni Azuly, were given too much creative liberty by our co-author and do not apologize for the unhingedness of this story, it is a crack fic after all.

I am only half sorry. -Mind of the hive Two

So Darling Worker Bees, I hope you enjoyed the Gaymer Chair! If you did like this then we have other stories coming to Tumblr soon that are similar to this as well as some other projects in the works to stay tuned and tell all your deviant friends!

If you speak French or Spanish we the Anomaly Hivemind are so sorry for the translations if they are wrong, we do not speak those languages

Translations

French 

Mon Chou- sweetie

Mon tendre- my sweet

Mon Ange- My Angel

Mon Cher- my dear

Mon Amour- my love

Mon étoile- My Star

Oui- Yes

Amour- love

alors je protégerai ton coeur pour toujours- then i'll protect your heart forever.

C'est compris- its understand 

Salope- slut

Chérie- dear

que c'est chéri- what’s that darling 

Divin goût - taste divine

c'est mieux- its better

Merde- shit/fuck

écoute chérie- listen honey

tu aimes cette salope- you like that slut

Ma Cherie- my dear

Spanish

Mi Tesoro- my treasure 

Querido- my love

Amor- love

mi carino- my sweet

mi corazon- my heart

Déjame terminar- let me finish 

lo juro- i swear

Agradar-please

Ay dios mío- oh lord

[plural-culture-is]

Im questioning wether i should even ask, im so hesitant about this.

Every time i go into a depressive period, i question in im really trans, if im really plural, ocd kicks in and worries about ways i might be awful.

So bear with me, if you dont answer this or the answer is painfully obvious or whatever i wouldn’t hold it against you.

As a young child i was severely abused by my father, and when we got away there was a period i don’t remember where i was in “psychosis” (quotes bc uncertainty), where i became an ape and was lost. I have only one memory from that time, where i came out of that to my mother calling my name and holding me. I only know of this time period because my mom told me about it.

Much later, when i was lonely i started to have imaginary friends, and i told my mom about them and she actually introduced the very beginning concept of tulpas to me and idfk why but she said that if they become aware and i stop being their friend they may get angry, and that sentient imaginary friends are called a tulpa. I worried about this, and idk if it was just my paranoia or something else but i did start to actualy get a vibe from my main imaginary friend like awareness, i could almost feel thoughts happening that were just sorta beyond a barrier. I stopped before anything else could happen, and i cried to my mom i was worried that my imaginary friend would hate me and become malevolent. She said that i’ll be alright, and that my imaginary friend probably still loves me.

(This is where things get confusing)

Few years gap, i am still very lonely but probably more, i start having the beginning signs of depression i think.

My mom started getting into new age stuff and psychic things, and i asked for a pendulum of my own to talk to spirits, one of which i formed a relationship with and even a “psychic link” (talking to eachother with our minds) and at some point after intrusive thoughts, some unhappiness and this other voice that would pretend to be that one, i stopped for fear of getting posessed.

Around this time, watched and listened to a lot more conspiracy theories in my house than we did before, stuff like you’d find on Gaia TV or Joe Rogan and others to give well-known examples. I would hear about people contacting or being contacted psychically by aliens, notably these ones colloquially called the Blue Avians. There was also a videogame i played at the time with alien bird people too. In anycase, i was lonely (and tbh kinda grieving no longer talking to the spirit one?) got the idea to deliberately try and make a psychic link out in the universe and i made one, i managed to talk to a blue avian and started what i thought a romantic relationship looked like with them. I talked to and interacted with them every day, very often. I eventually met another two “aliens” through them and now i was talking to 2-3 beings mentally for a while, while they told me about life in their world.

I went through a lot of denial and that i was crazy or it was in my head, which i mean yeah. I later remembered what my mom told me about years ago: tulpas. That sounds about right. And with my new internet access i looked into it, i found i was already doing what those people were or atleast i was pretty sure. But some things werent adding up, many of them said a tulpa was more a mental construct and that they 1, couldnt be mean to you for example, 2, couldnt talk besides when you wanted them to and so on, mine were too autonomous i guess. In anycase, i continued but acted both as if they were real alien beings elsewhere and a mental construction for a while. At some point then i found out about DID and saw eery similarities, that was my second theory about what was going on. At around this time i broke away from the conspiracy aliens thing, and started thinking more about spirits, and would talk to random and re-occuring ones often. At around this point but maybe well before i started to fall into psychosis and a lot of intrusive thoughts and even hallucinations. At this point i was going through a lot and all these conflicting and inconsistent worldviews were starting to get to me, aswell as me starting to realize but not knowing outright that i was queer. I learned more things that werent conspiracy theories or new age stuff, and i finally broke. I describe it as litterally there was countless pieces of my mind fighting eachother, as verbally and not and everything was clashing. I am not using metaphore here. I felt separated from my body and in a haze, much like when im co-conscious and not in “the driver’s seat”. I fell further into psychosis too. Eventually something was said that made my different conflicting worldviews a little more compatible on paper, and i survived. Then was recovery, still talking to “spirits” and stuff and even aliens. Up to and before this point my family was obsessed with “shadow work”, aka forcing yourself to look at trauma unessecarily. I was partly doing this bc i worried that me being queer was somehow from my father abusing me as a child. This is part of what contributed to that shattering.

So skipping a bunch of tedium, i started operating as if i was plural after a while of debunking stuff , i figured out that yes i definitely am queer and that its not a bad thing, but i still had doubts.

I still talk to my presumed alters often, but there is some funny business:

After setting up some walls or rooms in headspace, they don’t intrude as much and i dont hear them unless i wanna and vice versa

Im struggling to tell if its my internal echolalia or if its me saying everything they say, and sometimes the line is blurrier

They can say things on their own even things that surprise me, but so can i sorta

im almost certain we can’t full switch, or if we can im not sure if i will have any experience while the other is fronting, does this make us monoconscious?

We can go co-conscious pretty much on demand whenever we feel like it, and we can do a partial switch too i just have to relax and allow it

Im pretty much always fronting fully or partially, and always watching when another is fronting

I cant mentally hear them when i talk too, i either have to go quiet or pause for them, and when i do talk it either is too much chatter i cant process or i automaticaly somehow mute my minds ears to them. But, due to autism, talking even to ppl outside my head is like this where i either speak or listen no inbetween

I want to hopefully finally solve this and get on with my life. Thanks for reading/answering if you do

sorry, this ask has been our inbox too long and we haven't been able to come up with a response, so we're handing it off to the public to answer

[timetravelledau]

So, how do Eduardo and Mark feel about the whole “time travel machine” Jon’s made?

That's actually a good question‼️

The thing is, Jon never told the both of them. (Maybe because he's scared or wanted to make some sort of surprise that includes time travelling?? Idfk)

Though he has talked about the concept of time travelling before even making the machine! Stuff like theories on what might happen in the future, meeting heroes from the past, possibly *ahem ahem* MYTHICAL CREATURES such as MERMAIDS— *ahem ahem*, timelines, etc.

Both of them found it weird and cool at the same time and just let him be :DD

To answer your question though, if he DID tell them about it, They won't believe him, of course, they know it's impossible! There's no way he can travel in time!!!

Right?

(i mean, obviously he would that's the point of the au so haha funny)

[elizmanderson]

15 mutuals*, 15 questions

*if I can come up with that many mutuals' handles when my brain is doing like. dial-up noises rn. can I even answer the questions? let's find out!

thanks to @vcaudley for the tag!

there are (as you have probably noticed) more than 15 questions, so feel free to pick and choose (or just not play, because a tag is not an obligation)

I did 15 plus a bonus question about whales

Are you named after anyone?

my maternal great-grandmother on my grandma's side, who lived to be a hundred

2. When was the last time you cried?

oops, at the end of my yoga class this morning, for no discernible reason :,) just suddenly got the Big Sad and had to go stand in the bathroom for a couple minutes until I calmed down

3. What’s your eye color?

hazel

4. Scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings, we are too soft for scary things in this household

5. Any special talents?

6. Where were you born?

7. What are your hobbies?

8. Have you any pets?

halloween the cat, who enjoys a basket of warm laundry fresh from the dryer and wants to know why you're looking at him all funny when he is simply making use of what is currently the coziest place in the house

9. What sports do you play/have played?

lol under duress, basketball and track. under my own steam, archery.

10. How tall are you?

shorter than the internet thinks I am, apparently

11. Favourite subject in school?

art

12. Dream job?

gonna echo @vcaudley's "the honest dream is to have enough money to not need to work"

like I don't have a dream job really? obviously I want to have a career as a writer, but...I would rather not depend on it for my income, given how fickle the industry is even IF you manage to sell multiple books, which at this point in my career is no guarantee

so for a day job I'm doing admin work. after a decade of working in grocery stores, I'm happy just to have a full-time job that pays sort of halfway decently, actually has benefits, and doesn't leave me exhausted or keep me constantly working outside my scheduled hours. the millennial dream lolsob

13. Do you prefer owls, capybaras, or flamingos?

(d) all of the above

14. What is your favourite soup?

a tomato-basil soup that in the family we just call winter soup. it's like an extra-hearty tomato-basil soup with carrots and onions and a roux, and you eat it with croutons and sour cream and parmesan

15. What is your favourite…rock (idfk)?

16. Choose a familiar: 1) very dumb, very loving disobedient dog. He loves you but will never listen to you ever 2) a raven that speaks but it only ever shrieks the name of various fast food restaurants 3) a toad that screams like a teenage boy instead of croaks

I will take the dog and simply always tell him to do bad things so he never does bad things because he disobeys my every word. if he loves me I will get cuddles and also I will not have to deal with shrieking.

17. Which planet do you feel like would be kind of an asshole if you met them?

uranus, obviously

actually that was mean

sorry, uranus

18. if you were a worm would you love me? this worm question courtesy of ✨ @/legiomiam✨

no bc I don't know you but I'm sure you're a lovely person

19. Least favourite type of clothing?

20. You are now in a horror movie—so sorry. Chance of survival?

probably zero since I'm very soft and also have to investigate every noise bc it's better to get up and find out what's making it than lie in bed being scared of an unknown noise 😅

21. Would you rather: the ability to instantly grow a perfect mustache, or ability to talk to vegetables?

22. What do you think of whales?

I think they're neat

tagging for optional gameplay: @victoriacbooks, @mslanna, @erinfulmerwrites, @avery-ames-personal, @amarajlynn, @wordsofrablack, @chatterboxprotocol, @danaiwrites, @doom-inique-writes, @gryffindorkswin, @luv3horse, @lucymason217, I think this is less than 15 but oops I'm also tagging you, if you're reading this and waiting for someone to tag you so you can play

[clover-the-awesomest]

Murder Drones Questions

Alright, I’m just gonna go ahead and start by saying that yes, I love Murder Drones, and yes, I’ve been a fan of Glitch Productions before the channel even existed, (SMG4 gal over here) and yes, I am very willing to admit the series is not perfect in any way shape or form. I’m extremely fond of the world and the mysteries behind the characters and all that junk, so if you have any questions about Murder Drones then I will be very giddy about engaging with you! (Points discreetly at the ask box)

But I’m not here to talk about the story, oh no! I’m here to clarify a ton of really weird but understandable questions I’ve seen reaction channels ask a ton about the pilot episode! So. Yeah. That’s basically it.

So the first question I’ve heard being asked a lot is “Where the fuck do the babies come from and how do they mature??” I mean that’s kinda two questions but wtf.

To answer the first part of this question, we need to think about how these Worker Drones were even created in the first place and how they came to be. The answer to that? Simple. They were mass-produced via a generator of sorts. Idk how robotics work exactly and I know next to nothing about coding so don’t question how or why they were or would be mass-produced, but the intro/exposition sequence at the beginning basically solidifies this fact given the line “Yeah, we were treated in the name of windex…” And the shot of a huge line of Worker Drones in a factory.

How they mature is a completely different story. I think what they do is they upgrade their body, kind of like a transformers transformation sequence or a magical girl transformation. They activate some sort of neuron in their robo brain and change their body to match their age every 2-3 years. Or at least, that’s what I’m thinking they do. It could be something completely different tho but this is the option that makes the most sense to me.

Now obviously the Workers can choose to make a baby via the generators or they can make a fully grown drone. Because as we can clearly see in the first minute of the pilot, the mass-produced Workers are fully grown and mature even at birth. So the generator has options.

Why the humans decided to give these robots life, sanity, personalities, and an option to make babies?? Idfk. We’re humans, why do you think we did that?

Now for the next question: “Why does Uzi need a bandage? She’s a robot, she doesn’t bleed or feel pain.”

Which… I mean, fair, we don’t see any major deaths or scenes where the robots feel any pain before this clip, but this question still ticks me off. Because for one, we do see Uzi feel pain later on and throughout the rest of the series. It’s just harder for her as well as others to express they’re in pain because, you know, robots. But that doesn’t mean they can’t feel said pain. And the same can be said about her bleeding, because the Worker Drones do in fact bleed, but instead of red sticky warm bullshit like us, it’s black, inky, thick, gooey, icky crap. Aka oil. So there’s that.

Here’s another one! “Wait but she didn’t miss the first time. Why didn’t J just regenerate herself like how N did at the beginning?”

So for starters, lemme clarify this well-known fact by all Murder Drones fans. The Disassembly Drones have saliva that neutralizes their nanites, aka regenerates themselves. This saliva, similar to human biology, resides close to where their chest is. (I actually know nothing about human biology please berate me in the comments lmfao) In the first few minutes of the episode, when Uzi uses her new gun for the first time on N, she aims for the head because that’s where you’re usually gonna aim when shooting a gun. But since the saliva is in the chest area or just in the chest in general, it was able to spray itself back on N’s neck and regenerate the head, along with all the wiring and coding and stuff like that. Think of it like a movement-activated soap bottle in restaurant bathrooms. If the saliva compartment recognizes that a part of the body is missing, it will activate and remake that body part with itself.

This question is something I’ve been asking myself and I wanna write the potential answer down here for clarity, so you can skip this if you want since it’s not about the pilot episode.

(“If this is the case, how can the Murder Drones just put their body parts back together in certain sequences?” To this I say… idk. Maybe the saliva has multiple ways of functioning?? I have no real answer, so let’s just say the saliva is like hot glue or something idk.)

Here’s one final question because this shit is getting pretty long. “Wait a damn minute, I thought we already were on earth! Where the heck are we!?”

To answer this, you need to pay attention to the dialogue in the episode. “We are Worker Drones. Autonomous robots mining exoplanets for our interstellar company…”

Yeah. The Worker Drones mine exoplanets, which are smaller planets within our solar system that are similar to Earth and are habitual. So the planet we’re on in season 1 of Murder Drones is an exoplanet known as Copper 9. The name of the planet isn’t super duper relevant until later episodes where they have the name of the exoplanet in plain view, so all you need to know for now is that we’re on an exoplanet, not earth. Earth is dead.

Welp! That was actually pretty fun! I hope this was useful and helpful for future reference and for anyone still just getting into Murder Drones and having these exact questions. I’ll most likely make a part 2 to this for the other episodes if anybody wants that. (I mean I want that so…) I’ll quit stalling for now tho and let you carry on with your day. Thanks for reading, and have a great day/night!

[lightadarttomendyourheart]

i've decided to take a break from it all. i've realized ive been so consumed by all the chats and planning the weekender and london and everything. texting brandon. i really like to busying myself with planning i think. but anyways, it's gotten too much. i feel like no one (minus a few) really appreciates and respects all the work and hours i put in to everything. and of course its not only me, but i really take the responsibility and the weight on my shoulders of planning all these things. it's an emotional burden. i make so many tabs and docs and resources for everyone to have all the information needed at their fingertips. and then what do they do? don't even fucking use it. they ask the same questions over and over again. when literally, what am i doing? googling it and answering them. why the fuck can't THEY google it and get their answers instead of asking other people. am i a fucking personal travel agent?

and i know i should just not engage. i should just take a deep breath and not reply. wait for someone else to take on the burden. but i can't. i physically and mentally fucking cant. maybe that's my character flaw. and the thing is, someone else WILL answer, and IT WONT BE CORRECT. and then days later someone will finally do the research or someone will tell them or whatever, and THEN they'll find out the actual, true information, when instead i can just quickly reply immediately and give them the exact correct information. but at what cost. honestly, at what fucking cost to my mental health.

i know they don't NEED me to plan shit, people have done trips without me i know i'm not fucking god and know everything. but i have all the info. literally. i remember everything from my initial research. from countless conversations we've had where we've decided this or that. where we've found out this or that. why can't they remember? do they even try to remember? i don't think they do. they just want someone else to do all the heavy lifting and reap the rewards. just tag along for the ride and do nothing. it's too much. i can't fucking handle it right now.

and i do handle it most of the time. and most of the time, it's fine. and with certain people, i get it. but seriously a simple fucking question. they look for it. and they can't find the answer. then i take 2 minutes out of my day and find the answer right away. like???? I DONT GET IT.

i seriously don't get it. it boggles me. why do they have to make my life so hard? i know they don't even realize it. i know it's not personal. but fuck it feels like it. why do you think i spend so much time getting us so organized. so i don't forget and so EVERYONE ELSE CAN BE A PART OF THE PLANNING AND FUCKING KNOW EVERYTHING AND NOT ASK ME THE SAME THING 5 TIMES.

like this is the which trip we're all doing together. like the 6th? 7th? this is not our first rodeo!!!!

i know this has something to do with indy too. how many fucking times did i tell him, this isn't a good idea. i'm going to hurt you. this will fuck up our friendship. yet, he didn't fucking listen to me. and i fucking hate that i can't talk to anyone but maya about it.

and honestly, after that talk we had on saturday night, literally fighting about the same fucking shit we always fight about. and then he makes that fucking rude ass comment about forcing me to go to qrion. like, HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING?!??!?! after i literally yelled at him for trying to force me to drink. after i fucking told him it made it feel like he was giving me no other option than to kiss him that one night to finally fucking shut him up. he fucking pulls this shit with me again. and it feels even fucking worse than before. it feels so personal. and it feels like he didn't hear anything i fucking said. like all of my feelings and personal views and WANTS mean fucking NOTHING to him. it's so fucking disrespectful. it makes me feel like what i want means absolutely nothing. and honestly, idfk what the fuck his intentions are, because at this point, they can't be good. how can someone explain that with a good outcome at heart. in my opinion, they can't. i really don't get it. what have i done. what did i fucking do to deserve to be so disrespected by my family. when i have fought so fucking hard for him. i've stood up for him SO many fucking times behind closed doors, when he's not even LISTENING or not even IN THE CHAT. i've been his biggest advocate because i fucking care about him and know him and i can't stand people shit talking him when i know he's trying to be good, that he's changing. but guess what, i guess he's fucking not. literally this whole week has proven to me he hasn't changed in the slightest. and with me. what a fucking stab in the back. when all i try to do is fight for him. he can't fucking give me the respect and decency i deserve. fuck him. seriously. i'm so fucking mad at him. and its not like i didn't tell him. it's not like i've secretly been bottling all of this up. he just doesn't fucking LISTEN. it's always all about him. well, what about me. what about my feelings. what about what's good for me????

and honestly, i'm at a point i feel like i've been chasing brandon this entire time and i'm over it. i'm just at full quit capacity right now. i'm quitting everything. not actually, but emotionally, yeah. right now, for the time being, i fucking quit. i quit the group chats. i quit planning. and i'm quitting brandon. if he wants to fucking talk to me, HE can fucking talk to me. i told him of course i'm taking a whatsapp break and to text me anywhere else. nothing bad against him, all about the groups etc. cause it's maybe 5-10% about him (but more so my emotions). i didn't just ghost and stop replying cause he didn't do anything wrong. but i'm curious when and if he will. i wanna say im sure he'll text or snap me something in the next few days. but who the fuck knows.

i really hate how much this all affects me. i wish it didn't. but alas. here we are.

idk how long i'll last. but honestly, since deleting whatsapp after work. i already feel so much better. i feel free. i hope i can last a week at least. maybe before sarah and i go to vic i'll redownload it. but then again, why do i want to stint my progress right before a nice relaxing weekend with my best friends.

we'll see what happens.