#donna: did u spill it ???

[sugarskies]

the deca s5 chapter 6 how many things can i break with coffee

[mamawasatesttube]

Hi hello,

Random question, but what do you headcannon cassie to look like and dress through-out her teens into adulthood? Both as wondergirl and as cassie? On that same vein, what adult superhero name do you like for her?

Anywhoosies, wishing u a great day!

late teenage into early 20s cassie is grappling with comp het pretty hard and tries to grow her hair out and dress more femme. she hates it but she doesn't know she hates it for a hot minute. this is both as wonder girl and as cassie because she barely exists as a civilian at all for a long time. "cassie sandsmark" publicly was wonder girl for a while, and she tried coming up with a fake name and identity to be a civilian again in tt03, but it was rough on her and she ultimately gave up on it.

so i think that really just weighs on her - she's a hero 24/7, she's leading the titans, she's basically letting the vigilante life consume her and she's gonna crash and burn out hard any day now. i think donna sees this and goes hey... you know you don't have to be exactly like me, right? in fact i think you need a vacation. let's go to themyscira for a bit. and its big sis lil sis bonding time but also for the first time cassie catches herself thinking um... women 😳 women? 😳 oh god. women 😳 and she has a whole crisis about it.

when she comes back from her vacation she does feel a lot more in touch with herself. the problem is that what she sees there (dissatisfied with her work-life balance, worn out, starting to confront her internalized homophobia) freaks her out. so she kind of has a crisis and hacks her hair off with a pair of scissors in the middle of the night and then looks in the mirror like. oh GOD. what did i DO??? oh god oh fuck who do i know who can fix this and won't ask me questions if i say i don't wanna talk about it hhghnggrhgnn...

so she shows up in kansas wearing a beanie at like 1am like kon Please. help. 😭 and she feels So guilty bc he's her ex and he's still kind and loving enough that he does get out of bed despite having an early morning with farm chores, and then he's all sleepily shuffling to the bathroom with her like here. sit. i'll fix your bangs. jeez. and the vibes are so... you know. bathroom light late at night spilling into the hallway. he's cutting her hair. krypto is peering at them from the doorway like why the fuck are you awake. cassie's on the verge of tears bc she wants to tell him why she did this but she's terrified it'd hurt him if she was like i think i was never actually in love with you

but when she finally says it he just stares at her. and then stares at her some more. and then he starts? laughing?? and at first she's kind of hurt like uh. that was serious and also pretty hard to say, what's so funny. and hes just almost in tears holding her hands in the bathroom by the sink like. cassie. ive been so scared of telling you i think im gay. for like. 3 months now. cassie i hooked up with an alien several weeks ago and i had a whole crisis i just refused to tell anyone about. um. yeah. and she's like. YOU WHAT? ALIEN HOOKUP? CONNER KENT? and hes like NOOOO WE ARENT TALKING ABOUT IT. YOURE A LESBIAN LETS TALK ABOUT THAT. but its like. oh! and they click back into place as best friends instead so much more easily than they ever dated. it's about the late night catharsis of it all.

this is a lot of words to say that after this i think she embraces the short hair and starts leaning into masc presentation again. i am a butch cassie truther for LIFE. get that girl some cargo shorts and a carabiner for her lasso STAT. i'm talking those truly heinous cargo pants that unzip at the knees to become shorts. formal cassie rocks the blazer with a bra underneath look. cassie lingerie is a tank top with no bra. she's butch to the bone baybee

as for her adult hero name, i still kinda waffle about it but i've Tentatively settled on "xenia"!! it's taken from one of zeus's epithets and has to do with hospitality, kindness, and the protection of strangers (yknow those rules about breaking bread with strangers etc, those are also called xenia). the og meaning had to do with the idea that a stranger could be a god in disguise so you should always honor strangers, but i think cassie would do a sort of converse of that with it, like i've got the power and i'm gonna use it to protect people i don't know, not for the idea of a boon but because it's who i am. still potentially workshopping this, though.

[the-fandom-hopping-mage]

thoughts on the doctor who special

so this list got way too long i guess i think a lot while watching things

oh the bright side my irl friends haven't gotten spammed with 80 million messages, just the internet people :) :)

read at your own risk

david tennant! !!!!!!!!!!

what's he doing in space why are they talking to us this is so stupid i love it sm

lol the first thing they do is give him like three sequential heart attacks LEAVE HIM ALONE HE ONLY HAS TWO

wow rose is pretty

donna i'm pretty sure you have supernatural abilities at this point, how the hell do you miss everything

donna why would you give away the money (i know exactly why you gave away the money it's perfectly in character for you but also WHY)

oh no where's wilfred

go off donna beat those kids' ass

these kids are thinking they're the main characters in a sci fi show (don't tell them) they're gonna get themselves killed

girliepop that is a strange creature and you (collective) have had multiple invasions in the last twenty years don't trust it just because it's got big eyes you will get killed

both roses have trusted a creature that they probably shouldn't have just because it acted like a victim. like I can't be mad because I means they have Compassion and other nice things but cmon. common sense. please. im literally begging u.

woah did thirteen upgrade the screwdriver (i need to catch up with the other doctors after 10) thats cool

so they know all the doctor's regenerations cause timey wimey stuff

14 over here trauma dumping on this random ginger lady with cool hair

"best friend in the whole wide universe i absolutely love her" that is the sweetest thing i have ever heard

woah it's the time vortex

wait why does the time vortex have arms now

when your wheelchair saves your life

they're covering their eyes like the sun episode is it the creepy vaporization light???

i Do Not Trust the meep

"he's so cute" finally someone with common sense who also doesn't trust the meep

turn around Shawn trust me your life will be so much simpler if you turn around right now

"ferret"? omg it's draco malfoy

who is Nerys what did she do i'm so intrigued now spill the tea sis

no not wilfred :(

yay wilfred

smh doctor you are a disaster magnet

OMG HE CAN RESONATE CONCRETE :D :D :D

your poor neighbors? y'all's just gonna break into their homes? aren't the aliens gonna follow you? into other people's homes? who's gonna fix the walls? why are the houses touching is this a uk thing?? also that's not how bricks work but who even questions anything in this show there's a giant furbie and bug aliens dueling it out imma just roll with it

donna's mum is so done with the doctor's shit i'm so sorry ma'am

once again, nobody's gonna question the B&E you've got going on? no one?

ooh that's a nice door

are we completely sure he can drive a car? i mean look at how he drives the tardis I would not trust him near my car in a million years

THANK you doctor I totally called it the oversized furbie is not your friend why do they always trust the first alien that tells them a sob story

i'd be a good companion i would actually notice the obvious before it kills everyone sometimes characters are really dumb or maybe that's just the plot armour

he has a washington wig now what is going on 🤣

living sun I knew the mind control light was familiar

the living sun went crazy did they fuck smth up last time???? or is it just a species

did it really just say "Beep of all Meeps" what even is this show 🤣

omg david youre so cute

honestly he was asking to be knocked out

Shawn and Rose must be so confused. an alien shows up. donna's mum is very insistent about how it's not real. random guy from downtown shows up. claims to have two hearts. knows wilf. has a magic screwdriver. breaks into multiple houses with them. aliens are attacking. strange man holds a court session in an underground car park. strange man gets knocked out and you are all put in a creepy government van.

donna here finally asking some reasonable questions

"i don't know him" two seconds later: *exchanging looks*

donna found herself a good man

not even in this new body for 24 hours and he's already getting so much head trauma

'a great day for meepkind' didn't you say you're the last. great day for you you mean.

oh they're gonna join wheelchair ginger lady

OMG THERE SHE IS

ROCKET LAUNCHERS

according to subtitles her name is shirley its very fitting like a sherley temple

THE DOCTOR OMG THAT WAS THE FIRST TIME EVER

oh hey its the room hes floating in that one pic

"Love the running."

respect for david just casually climbing up a wall i could never

besties fr

give this man a break hes so sad

that one random kid is having the time of his life

is she really gonna chew him out for taking her memories girliepop the world is ending

theyre just making up words now

WHY does he ALWAYS lose the ONE PERSON that can UNDERSTAND HIM like THIS its the SAME. FRAKING. POSITION. EVERY. FREAKING. TIME.

just take it away agin

NO DONNA

why is this face so suicidal its actually concerning

ROSE YES

The Master's back again I'm calling it now

"Enigmatic, that is textbook enigmatic."

Crowley voice coming out

As a viewer I'm cackling as a writer i'm confused but I'll just let it go

wink wink wink

see what i did there

Shirley is just "yep regular tuesday this is normal i'm gonna get such a pay bonus OO BUBBLES"

rose: I wanna see! Doctor: yes! Donna: NO! Doctor: I mean no, that's what I said, no.

BESTIES THEYRE SO CUTE

Shawn: Yeah. True. But he's obviously a gay fruitcake so we're fine.

doctor is so offended he's like "what am i not a threat anymore wdym im totally attractive :( :( :("

woah the tardis changed I dont like it

most ADHD doctor ever

OOOO the round things change colors now

BEST

IES

because every time he visits with the family, donna, he loses them. he lost you and it killed him, so its gotta be a big goodbye.

Not even ten minutes and you've broken it, I mean relaly doctor give her a break

the tardis deserves better than this trainwreck of a time lord

"We CoUlD eNd Up AnYwHeRe In AlL oF tImE aNd SpAcE" bro don't pretend for one second that you know where/when you're going on a regular day. 90% of episodes are "oh hey lets go somewhere unknown and see what happens" or "oops the tardis is bringing me somewhere weird" or "oops I messed up this wasn't where/when I meant to go"

[naomisyamada]

P I A N O A N D M U G I C H A [self-para]

please be aware that his para contains mentions of death though no explicit descriptions.

When she thinks of her brother, Naomi thinks of the piano. It was an easy association to make. Akira used to play and was exceptionally talented, mastering all the greats from Chopin to Billy Joel, Bach to Elton John. She also thinks of the glass of mugicha he drank in the sweltering summer months, precariously balanced on the piano lid as he practiced. Naomi was always sure it would spill due to how vigorously he pounded the keys, particularly when he banged out a favorite such as Mendelssohn's Lieder ohne Worte or No. 5 of Brahms' Hungarian Dances. And yet, it never did. It would slide closer and closer to the edge of the lid with every heavy G or C but never fell. Never even slopped over. 

What got Naomi thinking about all of this again was the pianist at the mall. She heard him playing a spirited rendition of a Prince song as she headed to her late afternoon shift at Donna's. The man at the piano looked nothing like her brother. He was white and balding, about twice the age her brother had been when he died, but there was something about how he played, the way his agile fingers curled over the keys that screamed Akira. It stole the breath from her windpipe.

Naomi had the urge to speak to this man but didn't know what she would say. Maybe something about the song he was playing. Do you know any Brahms? Have you ever balanced a cup of tea on the piano as you played? 

She kept on walking until she reached the roller rink and jangly disco drowned out the sound of the piano.

Instead of driving back to her apartment after work, Naomi went in the opposite direction. For fifteen minutes, her Oldsmobile Cutlass shot westward through a sleepy and often derelict-looking sprawl of shopping plazas and squat office buildings. Eventually, the scenery leveled out into empty lots dotted with trees that looked like shadow creatures. Crooked telephone poles lined the road, droopy power lines like strings of fate leading Naomi ever onward. She slowed the car as she turned into a neighborhood.

The community was well organized, with tidy plots in tidy rows and streets with names like Red Pepper Loop and Sugar Loaf Court. As she drove past the neat houses, that kitschy Malvina Reynolds song from the sixties sprung to mind. Little boxes made of ticky tacky, little boxes on the hillside, little boxes all the same... 

Naomi parked on the street and stared at her childhood home through the car window. She took it all in. The oatmeal-colored wood slating. The old oak tree reaching for the sky with its sprawling, sturdy branches. Looped around one of those branches was a swing she'd never seen before, swaying gently in a gust of evening wind. A stone path led to the front door. Naomi's lips flattened in a hard line. 

There was the wide driveway where she and Akira used to color with chalk, tracing the outlines of each other's bodies and drawing in features with stubby nubs of chalk in colors like flamingo pink and alligator green. Akira accused her of drawing him ugly on purpose, which was true. Naomi vividly remembered how the chalk dust felt between her palms. 

Naomi imagined getting out of her car and taking the stone path up to the house. Her mom opening the door for her. Saying welcome home in her yellow apron, the smell of coxinhas wafting through the whole house. She would see Akira's baseball bat leaning against the wall, the rug with its little black burn mark on the upper lefthand corner, the collection of plastic floral cups in the cupboard. This is where they laughed, where they slept. She'd see the wood post in the kitchen where they charted their heights over the years. The Sears couch they piled on in their pajamas, watching cartoons or listening to their dad tell colorful stories about his childhood in Okinawa. His description of his quaint beachside town had been so illustrative that Naomi was sure she could hear the waves, taste the salt on her lips. 

Akira would emerge from his room when he heard her walk through the door. He'd smile at her with the too-long incisors that made him look like a fox. She'd pull him into a hug and refuse to let go even when he protested, even when he called her cruel names and yelled at her for squeezing too tight. Maybe everything would be the way it used to be. The way it was supposed to be.

Even though that glass of mugicha on the piano had never tipped over, Naomi could picture it happening so clearly in her mind it was as though it was a genuine memory. She could hear the clank of plastic against tile, the puddle of brown tea next to the bench. She supposed this non-memory appeared when she learned about the car crash. Or was it after the drunk driver who killed her brother had gotten off scot-free? She couldn't remember and realized it did not matter. It wasn't a real memory, and her baby brother was still dead. 

All of a sudden, Naomi heard music. She assumed it must be the car radio but saw that it wasn't switched on. The music was distant, but she knew right away what it was: the sound of a somber piano ballad. Naomi felt like she had been punched in the gut. She put a hand over her stomach.

Naomi's parents divorced shortly after Akira's passing, their marriage unable to bear the massive weight of a dead child. Naomi alone was not enough to keep it together. She understood. Akira had been the glue that bound their family together. He'd been the talented one, the one destined for greatness. Her role as big sister had been to make way for him. Protect him. And she'd failed.

She thought again of the mugicha that had never spilled. She saw it in a floral cup at the edge of the piano lid.

Worrying at her bottom lip, she peered at the house - her family's house that was no longer theirs - and stared at it until her vision blurred with tears.

The ballad marched on.

[teawaffles]

There's No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 1

T/N: Takes place after the Phantom of Whitechapel arc (Chapters 25-29 of the manga).

Where there is light, there is shadow. Behind Britain’s glorious prosperity, lay a dark side.

In the capital of the British Empire, one place that embodied these disparities was situated to the east of the City: a slum called the East End. [1]

Here, the buildings were densely packed due to poor urban planning. Complicated alleyways crossed one another like the mesh of a net, serving as prime hideouts for criminals. For better or for worse, its residents were full of raw vitality, and prostitution and barbarity were rife.

In the East End district of Whitechapel, situated northeast from the Tower of London, walked a lone woman—— no, a man.

He had a slender physique, and his shining golden hair added a vivid colour to the grey city streets. With a mole under his eye, and a smile overflowing with confidence, he was a charmingly exquisite beauty.

This man — James Bond — walked forward with grace, paying no heed to the dangerous atmosphere around him.

When they had visited Whitechapel during the Jack the Ripper incident, Bond had heard that William’s birthplace was somewhere nearby. With the incident resolved, in order to understand William’s character better, Bond was now exploring the slum alone.

However, contrary to his dignified steps, a vague depression bloomed deep in his heart.

——As expected, with at least ten years having come and gone, it seemed that nothing related to Will-kun was left……

Bond had carefully searched the district. He even visited the place where a book rental shop once stood; William mentioned he’d lived there with Louis, but just as Moran said, it had already gone out of business.

Dusk was beginning to fall, and he had no more leads to follow regarding William’s past. Dejected, Bond headed towards the main street to make his way back.

“……Oh?”

As he passed by a small, vacant plot, Bond saw something curious.

In the middle of the square were a few young children surrounding a single red-haired girl. Thinking that he’d stumbled onto an incident of bullying, Bond drew nearer to stop them. But as he did so, the girl in the middle spoke up with vigour.

“That’s right. Today’s New Year’s Eve.”

She said so while rubbing her hands together, as if she were in the scene of a play. “Ssh—,” she murmured, then mimed the action of picking something up with her fingertips, and raised that hand into the air.

Going along with the flow, the other children around her each began to make their own strange movements. “Bwoo— bwoo—,” one hummed as they waved their hands above their head, while another went “Honk— honk—” as they flapped both arms like wings.

Watching from the side, this could be seen as a mysterious game played within the unique worldview of a child, but Bond continued to stand there and watch the children’s movements with fascination.

These actions could only be from “The Little Match Girl”.

The girl in the middle of the plot was the matchstick seller, the main character. Then the other children were the visions she saw within the flames of the matches she lit. In other words, they were acting out one of Hans Christian Andersen’s famous fairy tales.

A performance—— In that instant, something from his past began to stir up within him.

James Bond had formerly been Irene Adler, a renowned actress who was also a member of the Warsaw Imperial Opera. However, he had stolen secret documents which would have shaken the country to its core. With his life threatened by the British government, it was then that William and the others had rescued him. After which, he became agent number seven of MI6, and joined the Moriarty brothers’ cause.

Now for all intents and purposes, the woman known as Irene Adler was dead. It then stood to reason that he had stopped his acting work as well. However, even as he pushed forward with his undercover missions, he never once forgot the passion he had for the stage.

The children’s play had piqued Bond’s curiosity, and he was watching on with a smile when they seemed to notice his gaze.

“……Mister, can we help you?”

The girl who acted as the matchstick seller directed her question to Bond. Hearing that, the other children stopped their movements and looked in his direction as well.

He was a little flustered by the unexpected attention, but maintained a mild expression as he apologised.

“Sorry. It seemed interesting, so I couldn’t help but watch. Was that ‘The Little Match Girl’?”

“Yeah, that’s right. But how did you know?”

“I was watching your actions.”

Then Bond pointed to each of the children in turn.

“You would be the main character, the little girl. Then you were the iron stove that appeared in her first vision. You were the delicious goose from her next vision. And you were her grandmother, from her last——“

Bond named each and every one of their roles correctly, and the children beamed.

“That’s amazing! Are you a detective?”

“Detective……”

That word brought to mind a certain man whom he was indebted to.

Bond chuckled. “No, I’m employed at a certain mansion. I was just passing through while on a quick errand.”

“Hmm—”

Without particularly doubting his answer, the girl continued.

“Hey, mister. What did you think of our act?”

Bond pondered over his response. Since they were children, one should probably just give some suitable praise and end it there. But his pride and love for acting which once allowed him to reach the rank of prima donna took over, and the words spilled out.

“It was a splendid performance. ……But I think it would be even better with a little more expression.”

“Ex—pres—sion?”

The girl made a puzzled face, and Bond knelt down to meet her eyes.

“For example, at the start, you wanted to show that you were ‘cold’, yes? You did well back there, but to show that you are cold, you wouldn’t just rub your palms together, ……”

He paused mid-sentence, then made his shoulders shake as he rubbed both palms together, blowing on them as if to warm them up. Somehow, it seemed as though even the colour of his face had changed — a realistic impression of being ‘cold’.

At his exquisite acting with the skill of a former actress, the children began to clap in unison.

“Wow mister, you were amazing!”

Bond took a small bow as he was bathed in applause.

“By learning how to do a few tricks like this, you can make your performances even more entertaining.”

“I get it — can you do any more?” asked one of the children. He nodded readily, then made his hands into the shape of small wings and imitated the sound of a goose honking. The quality of his voice could have easily be mistaken for that of a bird, and the children were once again astonished.

“That’s a goose!” They clapped their hands in glee, requesting other impersonations as well.

Bond humoured every one of them. Without realising it, he had gone from appreciating the children’s make-believe play, to joining in and becoming the centre of attention. But while he was delighted to entertain them, their surroundings were beginning to grow dark, and he was now thinking of hurrying them home.

Just then, the girl who had spoken up at first pointed outside the vacant plot.

“Ah, onee-chan!” she exclaimed, waving her arms vigorously.

Bond turned to look in that direction. There, stood a young woman with a look of disbelief on her face.

She came back to herself as soon as Bond turned around, then rushed over to the children. The girl ran over and hugged the young woman’s knees.

“Onee-chan, welcome back.”

“I’m back, Mae,” she said to the girl with a smile.

Then, she turned fearful eyes towards Bond. The young woman’s chestnut-coloured hair had been tied back; and although she seemed to have a dark atmosphere surrounding her, her features were clean-cut. She appeared not too far removed in age from him.

“Um…… and you would be?”

“Ah, my name is Bond. James Bond,” he introduced himself simply.

“Uh, Mr… Bond?”

But her reaction was slow. Her understanding of the situation definitely had yet to catch up, he thought. A handsome young man playing with children on a dimly-lit vacant plot — indeed, the scene before her was baffling.

Even so, she didn’t seem to be giving off any sense of suspicion or alarm. Just as Bond was beginning to think it strange, she hurriedly bowed her head.

“S—Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I—I’m her sister. My name is Maya.”

“Miss Maya, I see. Pleasure to meet you…… or rather, I’m sure you must’ve been confused to find your sister playing with a stranger. To start off, I would like to sincerely apologise for that.”

Saying that, Bond also bowed his head. He then explained the series of events to Maya, who was bemused by his friendly yet gentlemanly manner.

“——And that’s how Mae and the others invited me to join them.”

“And he’s really good at doing impressions!” boasted one child. Then, along with the other children, they started imitating the voices of the people and animals that Bond had showed them. He’d initially wanted to teach them about acting, but as they went along, the lesson had somehow morphed into a demonstration of mimicry. Well, as long as they had fun, he had no qualms about that.

Maya studied his face as she asked him a question.

“U—um…… Actually, I’d been watching your performance for some time earlier, Mr Bond…… Um, perhaps, you have worked in theatre in the past?”

“Uh……”

For a moment, Bond was lost for words, but he gave a roundabout answer to avoid revealing his true identity.

“That’s not too far from the truth. Well, you could say that I have a personal opinion when it comes to acting.”

“I—I see,” she replied automatically. Her gaze wandered restlessly before she spoke up again, in a cautious tone.

“Um…… Mr Bond. A—Actually I’m, part of a small, theatrical company, with some friends.”

“Really? So you’re an actor too, Maya.”

“Yes, and it really pains me that, you were asked to do impressions so crassly, upon our first meeting, but having seen your acting skills, um, I’d like to ask a big favour from you.”

“……A favour?”

Maya paused for a beat.

“We will soon be putting on a play at a big theatre, s-s—so we would be grateful, if you could watch our rehearsal, Mr Bond,” she said, as if she’d made up her mind.

Then she quickly bowed her head.

“Watch, your rehearsal? Me?”

Bond pointed to himself, surprised at the sudden request. Looking apologetic, Maya continued.

“We’ve been practising as much as we’ve could; but we’re a small theatre company that could close down at any moment, and we’ve never performed at such a large venue before…… With your knowledge of acting, Mr Bond, if you could appraise our performance…… and, if possible, give us some advice…”

“I see,” Bond understood.

According to the Theatres Act of 1843, ‘theatres’ in Great Britain were places where plays could be put up under the purview of the Lord Chamberlain. Moreover, in order to perform certain genres of work, the script had to be submitted for review, and approval had to be obtained.

However, owing to a loophole in the legal system, plays could avoid censorship if they incorporated music. Hence, a good number of informal theatres operated in this manner. In addition, as their audience was mostly comprised of laypeople from the working classes, many of these theatres performed the type of song-and-dance spectacle popular with such a crowd.

From the way Maya talked about her company, he gathered that they had probably been performing musical numbers at unregulated venues like these as well. Hence they had no experience staging an actual play at an officially-licensed theatre, and that was why they were asking him to evaluate their performance.

Having grasped her situation, Bond asked a question that had been niggling at him.

“Just out of curiosity, your theatre company should have a director, right? Wouldn’t they be offended if I were to come in?”

“I’m taking on the direction of the play. B—By the way, I’m also the chairperson.”

Bond was rather surprised at what she said. In truth, it didn’t occur to him that such a timid and seemingly weak-willed person would be in charge of a theatrical company, even if it was a small one.

However, although Maya had tended to keep her eyes downcast throughout, they betrayed no doubt. From that, Bond knew her request was genuine.

“Um…… I suppose it is too much to ask?” she enquired, in a fearful tone.

“——Alright.”

“Wha?”

She had not expected him to agree so easily.

“I’ll take on your request. I’m partly self-taught, but if it’s alright with you, I would love to watch you and your company perform.”

Maya immediately perked up and bowed her head, speaking loudly for the first time.

“T—Thank you so much!” she cried, jumping for joy along with the other children.

Footnotes:

[1] The City refers to the City of London, which is the historic centre of modern London (Wikipedia)

T/Ns:

The sisters’ names could equally have been Maia and May respectively, but I chose Maya as I think it reads better, and Mae to differentiate the two of them more easily.

I had to use onee-chan since Maya specifically introduces herself by name later on.

[xaphrin]

Raven pitched forward, smirking as she took a sip of her wine. “Color me surprised, I didn’t know Damian Wayne had a sweet tooth.”

He lifted an eyebrow and shoved another bite of the chocolate torte in his mouth, never breaking eye-contact with her. Heat crawled up her neck, but she couldn’t look away from him. Raven tried not to focus on the way his tongue slid along his full lips, making sure he didn’t waste a crumb. It was a tease of power, and he knew it would burn her. Heat coiled in the pit of her stomach, and Raven tore her eyes away from him, giving him that small concession to save her sanity. The last thing she needed was to have inconvenient feelings for Damian Wayne.

“Jealous?” Damian picked up a bite of torte and held his fork out to her. “You can ask for some.” 

Raven reached for the fork, but he pulled it out of her reach and leveled a stare at her. Oh. He… wanted to feed her? That was a step into an area she had never considered before. Raven glanced around the restaurant, realizing that there was more than one cell phone lifted, taking pictures of the two of them. One of the many hazards of being in public with a Wayne. Her stomach twisted and she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Finally, she leaned forward and opened her mouth. 

Damian grinned and ate the bite himself, never looking away from her.

“Jerk.” She pursed her lips, but couldn’t stop the twitch of a smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. God, he was infuriating sometimes. With no decorum whatsoever, she reached across the table and grabbed the torte from in front of Damian, taking a bite herself. 

He laughed and leaned back in his chair watching her as if she completely fascinated him. But, more likely, he was trying to find something to tease her about. A soft silence settled between them before he filled it, tapping his fingers on the tablecloth. “So… after dinner, did you want to walk down by the bay?” 

Raven picked up her head, her fork hanging out of her mouth as she blinked. What? The soft, silky torte turned to ash in her mouth and she forced herself to swallow. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Take a walk by the bay together.” Damian shrugged and tried to look unaffected, but she swore she could see the tips of his ears turn pink. “We’re still on a date, and you paid a thousand dollars for this. So… you might as well take advantage of it. Get your money’s worth.” 

“Oh. Ah… I… sure?” If he had asked her this same question yesterday, she would have pulled out a whole ledger filled with reasons why this wasn’t a date and why they shouldn’t do date things. But, right now, Raven couldn’t think of a reason not to walk with him. They were sort of friends, she didn’t have anything else to do tonight. And… she was finding she didn’t mind his company all that much. In fact, she might have actually started to like him a little. It only took four damn years. Her toes curled in Donna’s shoes and she shifted, taking another bite of the torte as she tried to look unaffected. “I guess. Sure. It’s a nice night for it.”  

Damian motioned for the waiter and paid the bill, while Raven kept watching him from under her lowered lashes. Jesus, he was handsome. Although she would rather eat crow than admit that out loud. Candlelight slid over his olive skin, casting curious shadows bathing him in mystery. Her stomach twisted as her eyes traced the stern line of his jaw and his full, decadent lips. Lips she wouldn’t mind giving a test kiss too. Just to see if they were really as soft as they looked. Not because she liked him like that. No. Of course not. This was Damian Wayne, her arch rival for the better part of four years, not some boy she happened to have a crush on.

She left a few bites of the torte for him and pushed the plate back to his side of the table. “I’ll need to text Donna and let her know I’ll be a bit later than eleven.”

“Oh no.” He lifted an eyebrow. “We’re staying out past curfew. How will she manage the scandal?”

Raven offered a sardonic smile. “I just want to make sure that when my body inevitably goes missing, she knows to check the bay first.” 

He just rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop smiling.   

Raven reached for her purse on the back of her chair, but it slipped on the shiny wood and fell to the hardwood floor. With a sharp crash, the snap closure cracked open with the shock of the impact, spilling the contents of her purse. She sat there, in complete, silent horror, as no less than twenty brightly colored condoms scattered across the floor around their table like suggestive confetti. Oh, fuck. This night could not possibly get any worse.

Frozen in shock, she sat there, not exactly knowing what to do. It wasn’t like she could deny ownership of the condoms, they came from her purse. She could try to make a joke, or explain the water balloon contingency plan, but nothing came out. The table next to them snorted into their food, trying not to make eye contact with Raven or Damian, and that somehow made it worse.

Damian looked from the floor to her face and then back again. He cleared his throat and pressed his lips together. “Oh. Wow. You… seem prepared.” 

“Donna. Water balloons. Not… mine?” Raven found herself stumbling through a series of weaker and weaker excuses, until she finally gathered enough of her wits to stoop down and shove the condoms back in her purse. She was going to murder Donna when she got back to their house. Murder her and bury her in the basement of their old house.

“You missed one.” Damian, lips pressed together as he obviously tried to stifle a laugh, reached across the table and handed it to her. “While I like to think my stamina is impressive, twenty times in one night seems a bit much.” 

Raven snatched the condom from him and glared, pulling herself to her feet. “Let’s just go.”  

She stormed out of the restaurant, trying to hide her shame as she stepped onto the street. Of all the things that could possibly go wrong on her not-date with Damian Wayne, an exploding purse full of condoms was somehow not on her list of worst-case scenarios. She stood in the streetlight, taking a deep breath of the air, tinged with moist heat of late-spring, and felt her embarrassment flood her. She buried her face in her hands and tried not to feel so utterly inept at this. How could she be so bad at just going on a date?

“So…” Damian wandered up behind her, his voice surprisingly casual. “I’m learning more and more about Gotham U’s resident hardass.” 

Raven started to walk away from him, but Damian followed, his steps sound and sure as he caught up with her. 

“One - she really likes kittens. Two - she makes me laugh more than I realized.”

Raven’s feet stopped at the subtle compliment and she turned around to look at him. He continued to walk up to her, his hands shoved in his pockets. How in the world did he make this look so easy? Like he knew what he was doing? Her stomach twisted painfully as he stopped in front of her, his eyes searching her face like he was admiring art. A smirk played on his lips, and his eyes turned dark as he pitched forward to look at her.

“Three - she apparently really likes to have sex.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Raven turned back around and started to move down the sidewalk, walking away from him as fast as shoe could. “Donna thought it would be funny.”

“Funny?” Damian fell into step next to her, still smirking. “Or, was she looking out for you?”

“Looking out for me?” Raven turned at him, leveling a flat stare. “Oh, please. As if we’d ever have sex.” 

“Why’s that?” His face turned into an unreadable mask, and he lifted an eyebrow, questioning. He seemed genuinely surprised that sex was off limits, and Raven didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like they were actually involved. She wasn’t even sure if they tolerated each other, let alone liked each other. 

“Damian.” She pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers and sighed in defeat. “You hate me. You’ve hated me since freshman year. You’ve done nothing but push me and tease me for the past four years. At what point do you think we are ever going to have sex?”

“I don’t hate you, Raven. I’ve never hated you. I… always thought we were kind of friends.” 

She lifted her eyes and looked at him, blinking. “What?”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if releasing a tension that had been building inside him for years. “All those times I pushed at you during school was because I knew you could do better than what you were giving yourself credit for. I fought you on everything because you were always ready to see things from different points of view - when you were challenged.” He shifted, his hands falling out of his pockets in a small show of vulnerability. “And I teased you because you were always so damn cute when you got angry. Plus, you gave as good as you got. I’ve been roasted by you enough times to know at least that.” 

Raven allowed herself to feel at least a little pride at that. 

“I’ve never hated you. Not once since I’ve met you. You’re smart - brilliant, actually - clever, witty, and…” He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks flushed. “…beautiful.” 

What. 

Raven found herself unable to breathe. She stood there, staring at him as her mouth opened and closed several times, hunting for anything to say. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that he had to have heard it over the sounds of the city. It felt like her head was swimming and her insides were melting, and she couldn’t make heads or tales of anything. Damian Wayne not only complimented her, but he called her beautiful. The man who could date supermodels and royalty, thought she was beautiful. Something inside her twisted with joy and excitement, and she found herself trying to explain her emotions away, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t deny her own feelings anymore. After all this time together, maybe she really did like him. 

Steeling her nerves, she stepped up to him and lifted her face to his. “Don’t think this compliment erases everything you’ve ever said to me, Dami.” 

His lips twitched as he fought back a smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“And I’m still not planning on having sex with you tonight.”

He arched an eyebrow, and she heard his breath catch in his throat. Was he… excited? His tongue wet his lips and he spoke softly, as if unsure about what she was almost offering. “There seems to be a qualifier in that sentence.”

“I’m not planning on having sex with you tonight,” she repeated before turning back around towards the bay. Her heart was pounding, excitement and playfulness coursing through her. She felt nymph-like, leading him on a chase after her. If Damian wanted to consider her beautiful, then she would try to be as beautiful as humanly possibly. She lowered her voice to a sultry, flirtatious hum, knowing he could hear the suggestion in her tone. “But… it doesn’t mean I can’t change my mind in the future.” 

With a teasing smile, she turned toward the marina entrance. 

Missed a step in Donna’s too-big shoes. 

And promptly fell down the stairs.  

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

you’re screwed up and brilliant and look like a million dollar man

summary: murder gloves.

warnings: S M U T. sex everywhere. it’s violent sometimes. what’s a safe word? lol ransom wouldn’t know. (seriously, reader tells him to stop a few times and he doesn’t, so pls do not read if that is upsetting to you) and they’re annoying, legit can’t talk without fighting. and that daddy kink because y’all know me. a lot of choking. very vanilla bondage. spanking. fluffy feelings about sweaters.

word count: a bit over 8,000

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

a/n: lol and nearly THREE FUCKING MONTHS LATER 🙄🙄🙄🙄 truly, i am sorry. i hope that you picture a raccoon with creepy evil little hands when you think of me bc i am trash. and i have creepy evil little hands. you guys know how excited i got when i thought of this title, right?

It was your anniversary even though it hardly felt like one at all.

Six years today. Somehow, you had put up with all the shit. His horrid behavior at times. The family drama. The extravagant events Harlan planned that your high maintenance boyfriend never let you miss. Whenever you tried it, he either pouted or just fucked you until you wouldn’t dream of ever saying the word ‘no’ to him. At least not for a few days.

Six years.

Yet, you were sure he was still nowhere near proposing. That was a battle for the next anniversary, you had decided. This anniversary required much more pressing topics to be discussed.

You heard Ransom pull up in the driveway and come inside, but you kept your place at the counter. When he found you in the kitchen, you were in a thin robe, making him an Old Fashioned while your coffee brewed.

You glanced at him over your shoulder as he sat at the dining table. His eyes lingered on you for a moment but then he turned down to his phone, so you took your chance to stare. After all these years, you would think that the sight of him in a sweater wouldn’t matter to you, but it still did.

You’d met him in a sweater, several December’s ago at a ski lodge where you had bonded over unfathomable resentment toward your respective families and an inability to ski—something he still wouldn’t admit. I can ski, I just wanted to fuck you. You were practically begging me. Was I supposed to say no? That wasn’t exactly how it happened but when Ransom pouted, that often meant no sex, so you let him lie. Regardless, he was beautiful then and you swore he got more beautiful by the day.

He lifted both hands onto the tabletop in front of him, phone set against his palm, showing off those stupid leather gloves that were starting to make you question your sanity. You thought about those gloves too much and in the most depraved ways.

“Did you get the house?” you asked, a distraction for yourself. No sex, not until he gave you an answer. Hell, he was gone most of the day with Marta, so he damn well better have some success to report.

He narrowed his eyes, lifting his gaze from his phone screen. “Why are you so dressed?”

Normally, he liked you walking around the house in nothing. A bodysuit, maybe. A bra, panties, and thigh-high socks. He liked you as naked as you could get. You liked it as well, it reminded him that even though, most of the time, he was in control, there were times when it was you. You who had final say, you who would withhold sex as some deranged power play. Sure, you needed Ransom like you needed oxygen or money, but he needed you just as much.

The robes were for occasional visitors. He knew that, he was just trying to prolong this conversation. He was trying to bait you, actually. If you were feeling…playful, you would have lied or refused to tell him. Then, long story short, you wouldn’t have been able to walk or sit right for a week. It wasn’t that he even needed such an elaborate reason to start this game, this time he was just trying to distract you.

“Joni stopped by.”

He gave you a flat look. Nothing confused him more than you sincerely getting along with Joni.

“She brought some crystals for us.”

“Rocks,” he corrected. “And they’re damn ugly and they’re not staying in my house.”

“Tiger’s eye for mental clarity,” you explained, voice level. It was your house too, and if he wanted to play this game, well, you had no problem throwing a chair through the window. Again. “Amethyst, for protection and stress—and intuition! It’s great for the third eye chakra—”

“Don’t start all that bullshit with me—”

“You’re just mad that I’m psychic—”

“No, you are not,” he snapped.

“Scared I’m going to find out about whoever else you’re fucking?” Okay, he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else. If you truly thought that, you would have been so far out the door the second you had a suspicion. Ransom was good. Even though he liked to pretend he wasn’t.

He glared. “It’s a god damn scam—”

“Your family specializes in those.”

“She’s not family.”

“Meg is,” you pointed out. It was left unstated but blatantly clear that that did, in fact, mean that Joni was family also.

“Joni thinks you have money, she’s trying to play you.”

“They don’t need to play me, Ransom. I like Meg, she’s nice…and she’s finishing her degree. I’ll make sure of that, with or without your help. And I like Joni, you know, she was the first one who was nice to me. Other than Walt, I guess—”

“Yeah, he was nice because he wants to fuck you.”

“You think everyone wants to fuck me.”

“Joni does, too.”

“Oh yeah, your whole family?”

“My grandfather included.”

You rolled your eyes. “Can you not be so…you, right now? Please, he’s fucking dead, Ransom.”

“He was a fucking perverted bastard. He always stared at you, tried to get you alone as much as possible. And don’t even get me started on that time he had you on his lap—”

“It wasn’t like that,” you argued.

He arched an eyebrow.

So, you were sitting on Harlan’s “lap”. It was Christmas, Harlan had dressed up as Santa. Ransom liked to pretend that Meg and Marta weren’t in the picture with you. Okay, maybe it was that you were trying to make him mad. You remembered that to be around the time you discovered that angry sex with Ransom was something else, something you truly weren’t sure how you had lived without.

You walked his drink to him and you watched as he downed the entire glass.

“Make me another. Please.”

You returned to the counter to oblige. You weren’t much of a cook, neither was Ransom, but he had the strongest desire to see you acting domestic for him. Sometimes, that just meant you making him drinks or bringing him a beer. You didn’t mind, so long as he watched you the entire time.

You once again set the glass in front of him. “So, your mother wants to fuck me?”

He eyed you, lifted the glass to his lips, took a small drink, set it down, then he nodded once. Instead of speaking, he went back to texting on his phone.

“Donna?”

“Not family, but yes.”

“Jacob?”

He scoffed. “Yes, he would fuck you. Also, possibly tie you up and dismember you after that—”

“Nana?”

Again, his eyes narrowed at you. He knew you were up to something now. He lifted one of his hands, smirking when he saw how intently your eyes were following it. He pulled at the tie of your robe; it was such slinky material that it slipped off your shoulders just after it was loose enough.

Your bodysuit was lace because Ransom loved you in lace. It was a tiny white scrap with thin straps and cups that your breasts spilled out of when you bent over. You were never one for modesty, but there was always something that made you want to cover up whenever Ransom was looking at you—even though his eyes were always full of lust and appreciation.

He let his hand return to the table and he looked at his phone.

Seriously? That was it? You shoved his phone away, it clattered to the table a few inches over, and you sat down on top of him. Your arms around his neck, your knees pressed to his hips, hovering over his soon-to-be hard cock. “And what about your dad?”

“Excuse me?” he demanded.

“Does he wanna fuck me? Because maybe I should ask him to get me that house and maybe fucking him would be all the motivation he needs, motivation you clearly are not feeling—”

You heard his arm brush across the table and then his glasses were shattering to the floor. Before you could scold him, his hand tangled tightly in your hair and he jerked you down flat to the table. He abruptly stood, leaning over you, his face mere inches away from yours.

You should have been scared; you knew that. He was so strong and he rarely ever stopped to think, he was fast actions and apologies later. But this was Ransom and you couldn’t be scared of Ransom.

“Wanna try that again?” he challenged. “I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”

“I would love to sit on his face,” you stated. “And I would love to feel his m—”

He gripped your jaw with his free hand and you utterly melted. You couldn’t explain coherently how much you needed that cold leather against your skin. Despite what you knew he had done with those gloves. Hell, maybe that was why you liked them so much. All of his scheming and malice, the killing. But then he would come home to you and he was so soft and so sweet, until he wasn’t, until he was fucking you, spanking you, choking you.

“You. Little. Brat. I got the fucking house for you—”

“You did?” you blurted out.

You suddenly realized, of course. That was why he hadn’t answered you. He knew you were getting impatient and he knew you would act out. Now, he would get to punish you. You would have been mad but the Thrombey house was the most beautiful house you had ever laid eyes on. The idea of building an actual life with Ransom there, in a house that he loved even though he wouldn’t admit it to his parents, only made you happy.

“I did,” he promised. “And now, you have to earn it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Brats don’t get houses.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” you accused. “I’m not earning anything. Every day I fucking put up with you, I earn that fucking house.”

“You just made a comment about wanting to fuck my dad—”

“No, I said I wanted your dad to eat me out. There’s a difference.”

He pressed his fingers into your jaw harder and yanked a little on your hair. “Say you’re sorry, baby doll.”

“Fuck. You.”

He narrowed his eyes, hand snapping from your face down to the clasp of your bodysuit that lay between your legs. He yanked it open, settling his hips against your knees to hold you open for him.

He never moved his eyes from yours and you, if only to meet his challenge, did the same. “I swear, you better not be wet.”

He was in a fucking sweater, what did he expect? You figured voicing that question would do nothing for you, probably only make him even more conceited. No, silence could damn you if that meant Ransom was knocked down a little.

“Or you’ll have to be my father’s latest mistress because I will fucking throw you out.”

“Well, maybe he’s better than you,” you pointed out.

Instead of a verbal response, his leather-clad fingers smacked your cunt.

Pleasure was right on the tail of pain, so close that you weren’t sure what you were feeling. Yes, it hurt, but wow—it fucking hurt. Half of you wanted to retract from the pain but as it settled, you immediately wanted more. If you weren’t wet before… Your body was vibrating with your undeniable need for him, but still, fuck him. He’d been an ass since he walked in and you didn’t feel like just giving in.

“Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?” you demanded, only because he was smirking at you and staring with knowing eyes. “Get the fuck off of me.”

He snorted at what you both knew was a sad attempt on your part.

You began to struggle against him, attempting to push him back with your knees. “Ransom, let me go.”

He forced you into a sitting position with the hand still in your hair and let go just to grab your wrists. His other hand grabbed quickly at the scarf around his neck.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you warned.

He shoved you back down, forcing your arms above your head.

“Ransom, I swear—”

He cut you off with a rough kiss as he wound his scarf around you in some complex way that he probably wouldn’t even be able to get you out of when this was all over.

You turned your head away, and he moved his mouth to your neck. “If you do not untie me, I am going to leave and never come back!”

He bit you hard enough to leave a mark before pulling back to set himself onto his forearms. “And live where? The street? Or you wanna go crawling back to your fucked-up parents?”

“Tell them I finally came to my senses; they’d take me back.” Long story short, your parents fucking hated Ransom. They thought he would never do anything for you or give you anything.

It didn’t help that you sort of cut back on work once you’d met Ransom. He was possessive, he just didn’t want you flying all over the world if you couldn’t take him with you. And you couldn’t because his family was beyond demanding and Ransom still had to show up now and then at whatever theatric event Harlan could think up. And as a model…taking pictures with men sometimes, or other women, wearing very little? Well, Ransom would never ask you to quit but he was always so insecure afterward. You still had your campaigns, a few projects you did with friends, but you were hardly a model anymore.

But well, your parents were obviously fucking wrong. He got you the house. The first time he had taken you there was to meet his grandfather—which was huge because it was the first time Ransom was letting you get that close to him. He hadn’t anticipated Joni and Meg being there but you hadn’t complained. He had, non-stop. Still, it was something…special. He’d shown you his old room and fucked you. Took you out to the woods and fucked you against every awful statue out there. Then took you to his parents’ room and, of course, fucked you there.

They were meant to show the next week, you’d left before that. Much to his pleasure, his mother left him a screaming voicemail or two or seven once she’d realized what had been done on those silk sheets.

You’d fallen in love with the house and you couldn’t bear the thought of losing it to an outsider. At the will reading, when it was announced that it belonged to Marta, you nearly fainted. Ransom had been so damn calm though, up until he was laughing like the god damn psychopath that you’d always suspected he was.

That was five days ago and things between the two of you had been…unconventional. When he had shown up that night—after ditching you, no less, to do whatever he was doing with Marta—you immediately started fighting. You had to get a fucking Uber! And he refused to apologize because, according to him, you were “having an attitude”. Things were thrown, insults were traded, and it was the longest night of your whole relationship.

It was only two days ago that you admitted to the root of your hostility. The house. He couldn’t lose the house. It wasn’t like you thought you were going to be living in it any time soon, but when he did finally propose, maybe things would work out that way. The following morning, he apologized with a diamond necklace and the promise that he would get the house back from Marta.

“Or you could just apologize,” he pointed out.

See, he never did, and in all your time with him, you decided you never would either. It was a good relationship. The sex was amazing, you guys never lied, never cheated, but there were a few communication barriers that neither one of you wanted to mend. Who really needed the word ‘sorry’?

“Seriously, Ransom, fuck you.”

He sighed, but that did little to hide how thrilled he was that you wanted to fight today. “I try to be nice to you, you know. But you don’t want nice, do you?” He jerked you up higher on the table by your arms and crawled his way over you. His forearms were on either side of your head and his leg was coming up to settle between yours.

The table had been freezing, but with him over you, and his heavy coat caging you in, you were just hot. Too hot. The snow-covered back yard seemed the better option at that moment. Anything to get away from him.

“Ransom,” you sighed. “Enough, stop—”

He pressed his knee against you and you shuddered. It hadn’t been long at all, so why you were so desperate was beyond you. Since Harlan, Ransom truly had a new outlook on life. He was impulsive and selfish before, but after the death of his beloved grandfather, there was nothing that could stand in the way of what he wanted. And what he often wanted was you, not that you were complaining.

“Get yourself off, baby.”

You glared up at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Yes, you heard, but what the fuck?! You didn’t get yourself off. He was controlling enough to need to dictate every single one of your god damn orgasms and if it wasn’t because of his mouth, his fingers, or his cock, it wasn’t happening. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m not sure if I’m going to let you finish at all,” he explained. “I suggest you do it yourself.”

You theorized that if you complied now, then maybe he would forget he was so angry and just fuck you. That had happened a few times before, he did always tend to pout when he remembered, though.

Despite your pride and the burning you felt on the tip of your tongue because you sincerely wanted to yell at him, you rolled your hips. It was tentative almost, which made him scoff. The material of his pants was too soft and with no assistance from him and your awkward angle… You figured he was enjoying making you work for this so much.

After what you said about Richard? There was no way you were going to be able to convince him to help you. You supposed he didn’t need to. Hell, you didn’t even need to finish. He just had to think you did. You turned down to watch, moved your hips faster, started making just a little more noise—

“You’re faking.”

You stopped altogether with a huff. “I am not!”

“You are. You wanna know how I know? Because for the past few years, every orgasm in your life has been because of me. You don’t know how to get off without me.”

“You are such an ass.”

“You don’t just want to ask for some help?” He looked down, one hand lowering slowly. “You know I can be very helpful when I need to be.”

You watched, gasping just when he pulled his hand away. “Ransom.”

“Let me just take the gloves off—”

You whined an incoherent protest. You knew that he knew.

He pretended to be confused, eyebrows pulled together. “You want me to keep them on?”

You frowned at him.

“Why?”

“Fuck off, Ransom.” You didn’t know why! Your only theory was that you were just as messed up as him and that you needed to make an appointment with a mental healthcare professional!

He smiled widely, and you hated how that made your heart skip a little. He always smirked, rarely ever smiled, so when he did, you were screwed. “You want to hear about it again? About how I murdered my grandfather?”

You snorted. “Oh, is that what happened? I thought Marta murdered Harlan—”

“She didn’t.”

“She’s the one who gave him the medicine,” you pointed out. “You didn’t have to do anything except switch a vial.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“Are you going to kill me, too? Oh, correction, are you going to get the help to kill me, too?”

“I might.”

“God, you are disgusting.”

He finally released your wrists to grab your jaw again. “Keep your arms up, I won’t tell you a second time.”

You were already moving them down, stopping right when you heard his threat. With a soft sight, you settled back against the table.

“Good girl.”

You wanted to hit him.

His thumb and forefinger pressed hard against your cheeks until you opened your mouth. He took that as his chance to slide two fingers inside your mouth until you gagged. You closed your mouth anyway, refusing not to meet one of his challenges.

They tasted even worse than you had imagined but you weren’t going to stop. You started to grind against his thigh again. It was better now, like maybe this was going to be enough to get you off.

He set his forehead to your temple, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “You don’t want to hear what happened after we left the party, after I fucked you in the car so good you couldn’t stand?”

Oh, that night. Where to begin with that night. It was Harlan’s birthday party, you’d been to all the ones before that and they’d gone off without…okay, well, there were definitely hitches, but nothing you hadn’t come to expect. Nothing that lasted too long. Yes, this family was all kinds of fucked up, but they never stayed away from one another for too long.

You had assumed Ransom’s argument with Harlan was going to be just another one of those cases. You’d been talking to Walt and Linda, the latter trying to ignore her husband’s attempts at pulling her into an argument he was having with Joni. Walt was talking about the company again; it didn’t bore you or Linda like it did everyone else.

Ransom’s voice carrying out from Harlan’s office startled everyone silent. He stormed out just to grab you and drag you outside, all while his family watched from windows at the front of the house. You told him to stop, which he didn’t. You told him your heels were a hazard, which he ignored.

When he started driving, you were honestly scared. Ransom was hardly a cautious driver generally, so when he was angry? And god, he was angry. You were sure you had never seen someone else get to him the way that Harlan had.

And he was ignoring you. He wouldn’t tell you what they fought about, but he always told you. It was, very simply, too much, and you were not going to put up with it. It was dark, cold, and Ransom had been drinking. You directed him to stop the car, and as firm as you hoped you were being, you were stunned when he listened.

The way he looked at you was so unlike any way he had ever done it before. You were more than just confused and you were a little worried, there was realization in his eyes. You could see that his mind was moving and you had known him long enough to know that that never meant anything good.

He demanded that you get out of the car and you did, even though part of you was worried he was going to leave you there. He followed, coming around to lead you into the of the car. He wrapped one hand around your throat and pinned you against the car door with his body, his chest to your back. His free hand was working his clothing out of the way, then fumbling to open the door.

He wordlessly shoved you against the seat, shoving your dress out of the way. Before you could say a word, he was inside you, his body covering yours. His hold around your throat was tight, and you knew that meant that he didn’t want to talk. That didn’t shut him up, however.

He just kept saying he was going to take care of you, and he didn’t loosen his hand until he asked you if you wanted him to take care of you. You said you did. He asked if he had taken care of you up to that point. You said that he had. He asked you if you trusted him. You said you did.

He left you in the backseat, covered in his cum and reddening marks on your neck, hips, and breasts, wrapped in his coat. He turned the car off and you echoed with just about 100 questions, none of which he directly answered. He said you couldn’t come with him because well, you honestly couldn’t walk.

The following morning, you woke up in bed while Ransom was making breakfast. Well, okay, you hadn’t actually seen him make anything, but since you didn’t find any restaurant containers, you couldn’t throw that accusation at him. He brought you pancakes to eat in bed and you guys had an amazing morning together.

By noon, the family was calling both of you with news of Harlan’s death.

He pressed his free hand over your face, covering your nose, and shoved his fingers deeper down your throat. You were choking and that didn’t frighten you like it should have. Some of the best orgasms you’d gotten from Ransom were when you were choking on his fingers or his cock.

You didn’t stop rocking your hips until you were finishing and you never once looked away from him. He stared into your eyes the entire time because it was undeniable at this point, Ransom had a kink for murder, and this was as close as he was going to get to it with you—some minor breath play.

He pulled away from you completely, stepping back onto the floor. He glanced down with a self-satisfied smirk, admiring the mess you had made on his pant leg. His amusement only grew as he watched you try to catch your breath.

You were still coming down when you felt Ransom leave the space between your legs. Glancing around the room, you found him at the counter. His back to you, you heard him pour some bourbon in a glass. You weren’t much of a bourbon person but whenever you tasted it on Ransom’s tongue, you never minded it too much.

When he returned to you, it was with a knife from the block on the counter. A large knife, you wondered what he would do if you made a comment about him compensating for something. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He smirked. “You scared?”

You snorted. “No.”

Arching an eyebrow, he pressed the blade down just barely against your thigh, dragging it upward toward your soaking center.

You had to bite your lip as he touched you there, just a tease because he didn’t truly want to cut you. The cool surface made goosebumps rise on your legs and your heart began to pound with excitement. You often wondered if you would be this fucked up if you had never found Ransom.

He lifted it to your chest, eyes bright as they followed the knife. He pressed down just slightly harder and led the knife to your shoulder. Your heart dropped the second you realized what he was doing.

“Ransom—”

“Shut up.”

“This is a piece from Megan Fox’s collaboration with Fredrick’s—” You felt the snap of your bodysuit’s strap and your jaw dropped.

He smirked down at you, proceeding to the next side to do the same.

“You fucking psycho!” you reprimanded. You thought dating a man with too much money and a narcissistic concern for his appearance would have given him at least some respect for clothing. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Wrong with me? You’re the one so wet over a god damn knife.”

“You can’t just destroy my clothes!”

“Well,” he shrugged, “just did. The fuck are you going to do about it? And consider your answer carefully, you know, if you want that house so badly.”

“It’s already my house,” you declared. “You got it for me. Stop pretending—”

“Pretending what? That I couldn’t find someone to replace you in a second? I bet Marta would be up for it.”

You shut up immediately, just staring at him. You knew Ransom liked it when your anger was quick. And truly, the last thing you wanted was to give him anything he wanted. You weren’t trying to be jealous in any way, but you’d always wondered how he felt about Marta.

He seemed to like talking to her—albeit, he also liked talking to Meg…just to get a rise. But he also liked getting a rise out of you, clearly. You just wanted to know. And he wouldn’t answer you, any time you asked him how he felt about someone else, he just fucked you.

“Now, don’t pout—”

“Fuck you—”

“Don’t be such a baby—it was a joke.”

“I don’t care,” you proclaimed. “You know, you can fuck her if you want.”

“Oh?”

You nodded, humming. “Please do. Then I’ll follow up with your dad.”

He snorted. “That’s getting weak.”

“You think he wants me to call him daddy?”

He took your neck in his hand. “If you say that again, I’ll fucking…”

“What?” you demanded. “What the fuck are you going to do, Ransom?”

Suddenly, he was kissing you. You’d blinked, then he was over you, hand tearing down your bodysuit as he held you by the throat. He stood to toss the bodysuit out of his way, eyes tracing your body.

He didn’t seem to care that you were completely out of breath by the time he’d pulled away, you didn’t either. This was something you both had in common. In moments like these, nothing mattered. You both did and said whatever you wanted, but by the time he was inside you, it was all forgotten.

“I’m moving out,” you announced.

He snorted. “You’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I’m going back home; I can’t stand another day with you.”

“You ever try to leave me and I will drag you back. Every fucking time, Y/N.”

You scoffed weakly. “Learn to hear the word no. You’ll need to. Now that you’re poor, especially.”

“You think that’s what this is?” He still wasn’t looking at your face, just your naked body as if he’d never seen it before. “You think it’s because I’ve never been told no?”

“What else would it be?”

He snorted. “Try to be less transparent. Is this your way of asking what we are?”

You knew what you were. To an extent. It was just that sometimes, Ransom wasn’t the most traditional, and you were okay with that. But well, it had been 6 years. You were waiting on the future to start, the engagement, the ring, changing your last name, possibly starting a family. But well, Ransom hadn’t even told you he loved you. You knew he did, love wasn’t just words, and he definitely showed you, but it would be nice to hear. Still, that was not what you had been asking… okay, maybe it kind of was what you were asking.

“No, I couldn’t care less. I won’t have to stay with you much longer anyway… I would never date anyone poor.”

“Baby, call me poor one more time and your ass is going to be so sore.”

He was in such an odd mood. You didn’t know exactly what he wanted. It had sounded like he’d wanted to fight, then he started getting…well, sappy for him. Now, he was threatening to spank you for stating fact?

“Look at that,” he taunted, smirking at your silence. “You can be such a good girl when you try.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I should give you incentive to shut your mouth more.”

“Excuse—”

He shushed you as his free hand pressed to your pussy.

You quieted only because you forced your mouth shut. You hadn’t been sure how the leather gloves were going to feel, if you should like them… But well, you did. And maybe you didn’t want him to know that.

But he did, that much you could tell from the arrogant look in his eye. You closed your eyes, letting your head roll back against the table. Whatever, you might as well get an orgasm for all this trouble he’d given you.

He traced small, gentle circles around your clit and you couldn’t even remember what you’d been arguing about. You knew he was watching you; you knew you shouldn’t be giving in so easy. That was why he was a dick; he knew you would let him be because he knew how to fuck you well. Two fingers easily slipped inside you—at least you thought it was two, you couldn’t tell.

You were caught off guard. It had been years since you’d felt something inside you other than Ransom*.

Was it supposed to feel good? What you liked was that these gloves were not supposed to be inside you, yet there they were. Ransom didn’t seem to care that they were close to a thousand dollars. You remembered glaring at him when he showed them to you, sent to him by one of his few friends, a designer (🙄) You had lectured him. They were real leather! You did not believe in killing animals for fashion. It was your one rule. You’d never participated in a campaign or contract if there was an animal harmed in the making.

But now, here you were, rolling your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers as he wore those sickening gloves. It was a strange sensation, maybe not good, but not bad. He started to crook his fingers against that spot that he could now locate in record time, and so it didn’t matter what it felt like anyway.

He leaned over you, grabbing one of your arms to pull you into a sitting position. “Watch, baby girl. Watch your pussy take my fingers.”

You turned down and at an agonizing speed, his fingers disappeared inside you. He crooked them twice before pulling them out almost completely. The gloves were embarrassingly wet and you could feel your cheeks heating because of it.

“Can you take another?” he inquired.

You weren’t capable of forming thoughts. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to want an answer. He pulled his fingers back, pushing three back in.

Your head dropped back and you closed your eyes. “Fuck, Ransom, please—”

“Keep watching, baby—I’m only going to tell you once.”

You hurriedly turned back; struggling to keep your eyes open and your hips still. Watching made you anxious because you knew exactly when you were going to feel what and you were simply not patient enough for your tease of a boyfriend.

“You hear how wet you are? Your pussy is so desperate…I bet it could take all four of my fingers. What do you think?” He took your jaw, turning your gaze up to him. “Hmm?”

You began to eagerly nod. “Yes.”

He pulled his arm back and let his pinky join as he moved it forward—once more, you felt yourself blushing at how easily they all slipped inside. It was a delicious stretch that was already driving you crazy. He rarely ever got to four fingers, by the time he was three in, that usually meant he was ready to fuck you. He always tried though, mindful of his size and how difficult it was to take him sometimes.

You sighed his name and whimpered a plea, you did not know what for, but he did. His free hand wrapped around your neck and he leaned in to kiss you, the fingers inside you still curling skillfully. His lips were soft against yours, a notable contrast to everything else he was doing.

“What is it about these gloves that get you so wet? he pressed. “Huh? Let me tell you, my love, about all the bad things I’ve done in them.” He seemed completely detached as he recounted all those events that you had missed because he’d wanted you to miss them, you wondered if he’d decided to that just so he could bring it up while he was fucking you.

Everything was calm and slow. Then he said Fran’s name and his hold on your neck tightened, and he started fucking you with his fingers, relentless in pressure and pace. His stare was locked on yours and you noticed how he brightened when tears finally filled your eyes. You would start turning a terrible red soon, you knew because he’d choked you enough times in the mirror. He always liked it so much so you never complained.

You had run out of air several long seconds ago and that was why your finish was coming so harshly. You just hoped he couldn’t tell because he would undoubtedly make you wait.

“I liked killing her,” he told you. “I would do it again. She was standing in the way—our way of the future I want to give to you. I’d fucking kill anyone for you, baby, you know that?”

“Yes,” you coughed. You didn’t think he killed Fran for you. Maybe, maybe on some low level, but it was ultimately for him. You didn’t mind that, though.

He smirked. “Say my name.”

He loved it when you were choking but still so desperate for him that you wasted what little oxygen you did have on saying his name, letting him know that he was pleasing you. You obliged and his hand instantly fell away from your neck. You took a deep breath in, coughing as you tried to blink away your tears.

He grabbed your hands and put them over his pants. “You feel how hard you’re making me, baby?”

Your pussy clenched around his fingers in anticipation, you couldn’t wait for him to be inside you. You hurriedly searched for the button on his pants until he shoved your hands away.

“No, not yet.” He grabbed your neck again and then crouched down, immediately burying his lips in your pussy.

A strangled yell came from your parted mouth, pure nonsense. You grabbed his forearm, a pathetic attempt to keep yourself sitting up, not that he would have let you fall if he didn’t want you to.

He tilted his head back to look up at you as his fingers kept working you. “Keep saying my name, baby.”

You did so three times before he finally placed his mouth back on you. You were shaking as he flicked his tongue over your clit repeatedly. Your end had built up to this impossibly high place, you were sure it was because your last orgasm was so unsatisfying.

Regardless, he’d barely been on his knees long at all when you knew you would come soon. And fuck, you needed to come. “Ransom—I—I’m—”

“You’re close?” he spoke against your hot, wet flesh, humming as he started sucking your clit gently. “Hm, baby?”

“Yes!” you sobbed.

And you couldn’t so much as blink before he was standing, pulling you off the table by your hips. You came crashing down hard, collapsing onto the table as you realized what was happening. You had been confused for only a second, but then, this was Ransom—why would you expect anything else?

That fucking piece of shit.

You were leaned over the edge of the table, legs shaking so much that he had to hold you up. Your bound arms were in front of you, unable to offer you any assistance. You wanted to push him away or kick him but you worried about your physical safety if you tried. The only thing that could make this situation worse was falling on your ass in front of Ransom.

The dick probably wouldn’t help you up.

You rested your forehead against the table, that was when you realized you were crying. Your cheeks were hot and lined with trails of tears. “I fucking hate you.”

His hand came down on your exposed ass with no warning at all.

You yelped, attempting to pull away from him.

He held you right where he wanted you with one hand closed around your hip bone.

“You’ve been acting like a brat this whole time, what the fuck did you expect?”

“Absolutely nothing from you!” you hissed. “You can’t fucking do anything right!”

And that rewarded you another slap on the opposite side of your ass.

You grit your teeth until your skin stopped stinging. “If you hit me again, I’m going to kill you!”

But hell, even you knew that was only going to get you another one. “You’re going to apologize.”

“For what?!”

“Everything—your attitude, talking about my father, and hanging out with Joni—”

“Oh, fuck you, Ransom! You’re a fucking psychopath with serious possession issues. I’m not a god damn object—”

His hand cracked across your ass, maybe a little more forceful than he intended but he hadn’t expected you to put up so much fight today.

Your mouth was clamped shut and more tears had gathered in your eyes. You weren’t sure what you were crying about anymore, sheer frustration or because he was hitting you so hard.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“No!” Was he out of his mind? He had never made you apologize like this. He let you suck him off or he just tied you up and you were “sweet” enough that he just forgave you. He had never tried to force you to say those words.

“Do it, now—”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” you decided.

“I will give you one more chance,” he informed. “Then I’m done talking.”

“That sounds like the best idea you’ve had all day.”

He smacked you again. And again, you were finally starting to realize that the leather hurt more than his bare hand. Again, and your legs buckled. He quickly scooped you up, setting you atop the table.

“Ransom,” you pleaded.

Instead of responding verbally, he spanked you again. You only took three more before you blurted out those dreaded words. He paused but you knew he wasn’t going to give you more opportunities to make it right, you would have to do that on your own.

“I’m sorry for my attitude.”

He hummed and you were stupid enough to think he was going to let the rest go. Not a blink of an eye later, he smacked you again.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about your dad!”

Yet again, he struck you without a word.

“Ransom, please, I’m sorry! I’m really sorry—”

“Sorry…what?”

“What?” you breathed back. He didn’t say ‘for what’ because that much he knew; you’d said that much. Then what the fuck did he mean?

He tsked and you knew what was coming.

You flinched before he even touched you. “S-sir? I’m sorry, sir!” He’d tried to start that but it was awkward at best. Sir did nothing for either one of you. You were running out of logic though and seemed the best bet.

He snorted. “No, baby. Not ‘sir’.”

“Daddy!” you realized, nearly crying tears of joy. Of course, after that joke you made about Richard, Ransom just needed to assert his dominance. Then his temper tantrum would be over. “Daddy, I’m sorry—”

“Now I don’t think you’re being sincere; you’re just telling me what I want to hear—”

“No, daddy, I’m so sorry—”

But he hit you again.

And okay, fuck him—you had just been telling him what he wanted to hear. You were done. “Stop!”

“Or what?”

“Ransom, I swear—”

He wrapped his arm around you, grasping your neck so he could yank you up. His forearm was pressed hard between your breasts, his elbow digging into your side where he held you tight against his chest. “You made a mess of my gloves, clean them.”

Before you could argue, he shoved his hand into your mouth. You were refusing to obey, however, which he realized when your mouth was completely still. His solution was to force his fingers down your throat until you were gagging violently.

When you realized he wasn’t going to give, you started sucking. You could feel his sweater against your back. It shouldn’t have been able to calm you down, but fuck…this was Ransom. This sweater-wearing asshole was apparently the man you loved—how fucking stupid could you be?

He began dragging you to the sliding door. Ransom’s house was pretty secluded and the only other people that regularly showed up was the help. Three weeks prior, you had pointed out that there was no point in having a sliding glass door if you didn’t have a dog. That was your subtle hint that that was what you wanted.

He flat out refused and you guys had ended up screaming at each other until he held you against the glass and fucked you silent. He had enjoyed it, but you couldn’t relate.

Once more, he pressed you into the glass, lifting your arms over your head. You tried to recoil the second you felt the cold surface against your breasts but he just pushed you back harder. You began turning your head pointedly, his fingers were still in your mouth but you knew he would take the hint.

Finally, he pulled them free and began brushing your hair away from your face. “What do you need, baby?”

“You are such a fucking asshole, Ransom!”

“And you are disrespectful.”

“Why the hell should I respect you?”

“Keep it up, baby, we already have a long night ahead of us. You really wanna let this go on tomorrow, too?”

You couldn’t, you knew that with total certainty. Your body was worn out, the only thing that was keeping you going was the anger you felt. You dreaded imagining how sore your muscles would be when you woke up the next morning.

“Now,” he sighed, feigning patience, “Try not to make a mess of my gloves again, or I’ll make you clean them again.” He reached between your legs and began rubbing his fingers quickly over your clit.

“Ransom!” you cried, attempting to push your body back against his. You could not keep doing this. “Stop, please!”

“No.”

That was all he said, the last thing, in fact, even though you didn’t stop talking the whole time. The whole nine almost-finishes he gave you, that he would stop in the middle of because you kept “making a mess”.

He had to know when you were truly almost spent because that was when he tore his pants out of his way and without even a teasing remark, thrust into you. It took a mere two thrusts before you fell apart.

The glass was stained with streaks from your skin, sweat, tears, and probably other bodily fluids, and you hated that the housekeeper would know why. God, he was the fucking worst person on the planet.

He never gave you a moment, he just kept fucking you through your orgasm and then after because now he needed to finish. “Tell me you’re not going to leave me,” he ordered.

You were more than just confused, wondering briefly if you’d even heard him correctly. “What?”

He let both hands grasp your hips and he pushed into you harder. “Tell me that you’re never going to leave me.”

You turned your head back, attempting to be coherent through the whining and mewling. “What—the fuck—are you talking about?”

“Even if this shit all goes wrong,” he explained. “Even if I get caught. Right now, tell me that you’re not gonna fucking leave. Say you won’t leave me.”

“Of course, I’m never—going to leave, you fucking idiot.” You turned forward, eyes shutting because you didn’t want to be looking at him when you said this. “I love you.”

His hips stuttered and he froze buried inside you, but you weren’t going to acknowledge what you’d just said. He pulled out just to turn you to him, lifting you so he could properly fuck you against the door.

Your legs hung loose around him but your tied arms could successfully hold around his neck. And just like that, the fight was over. Neither of you would probably ever bring up a single thing said during this disastrous night. He just kissed the side of your face as he told you how good your pussy felt.

[wantstoflyafraidtofall]

Summary: The Christmas season was always hard for the Novak family but this year Castiel has someone to help him through it. Dean is determined to help his boyfriend, Cas, get through a holiday gathering with his family.

Read on Ao3

(Fic bellow the cut)

Families can be hard. And if Dean ‘my dad’s homophobia made me too afraid to come out of the closet even after he passed’ Winchester had one goal tonight, it is to make this as easy as the universe would allow him. Having your parents know that your a biromantic asexual and actually coming home with a boyfriend are two entirely different ballparks.

Cas had insisted that Dean should come to meet his family this Christmas. The previous years they had always gone down to Dean’s basically surrogate father’s place. Bobby was a bit rough around the edges but was all gushy at the core and welcomed Cas to the family with a smile and slap on the back(He could have sworn he heard a ‘finally!’ as well).

Ellen and Jo both gave Cas some… stern talking-to’s about what getting with Dean entails that left him a little shaken, but over the past four years of being Dean’s ‘boyfriend’ instead of ‘best friend’ has shown him worthy of Dean’s heart. Jody and Donna had been more than welcoming as well, even inviting him and Dean over for a nice dinner one night.

Sam was probably the most excited. He flew all the way from California to congratulate them in person and even got a little teared up by Dean accepting himself for who he was. He had stayed the remainder of the week and spent the whole time smiling at them and helicoptering around them to make sure it was real.

Dean has to admit, he is kinda glad they aren't spending the entire Christmas weekend at the Novak’s. He loves Cas and would do anything for him but his family gives him the creeps. It’s a good thing Cas doesn’t want to stay either. He found that the Winchester Christmases with movie nights, warm fires, and eggnog, much more enjoyable than “an uncomfortable, over formal Christmas dinner where the chairs are replaced with the sticks up their asses”, as Cas once put it.

He didn’t begin to feel the pinpricks of nervousness until they steered the impala into the gated neighborhood where Cas’s family lived. The tall borderline-mansion houses could be seen across the large well-trimmed yards, illuminated by professionally hung Christmas décor and outdoor spotlights.

“What did you say the address was again?” Dean asked, leaning toward where Cas sat next to him, fidgeting nervously.

“1574 Rosealee Court-” Cas sat forward pointing out the window at the house, “-That’s it, right there.”

Dean turned into the driveway, internally judging how they had lined the entire perimeter of the pavement with tiny white lights. He slowly rolled to a stop a little past halfway around the U of the driveway, pulling the keys out of the ignition. The silence replaced the loud rumble of the engine and quietly playing songs from the Christmas cassette Dean had gotten for Cas a few years back after discovering his love for the seasons music.

“You all right, sweetheart?” Dean spoke softly and slid across the bench seat to wrap an arm around Cas’s shoulder, his other hand finding Cas’s and gentle squeezing it.

“Yeah, just a little nervous.” Cas was squinting up at the house and it’s artificial Christmas feel.

“Hey, look at me,” Dean waited for Cas to turn to him, his too-blue eyes shining in the bright lights, and pressed a gentle kiss on his warm lips. “It’s going to be all right. I’m going to be here the whole time. Won’t even go for bathroom breaks.”

Cas smiled and Dean didn’t fight the grin that bubbled out of the warm feeling in his gut. He leaned forward and placed one more chaste peck on Cas’s lips before ushering him out of the car. Taking Cas’s hand in his, they made their way up to the door, ringing the doorbell and waiting for the blurry figure to appear in the  beveled glass To let them in.

“CASSIE!” Gabriel shrilled as he opened the door, pulling his younger brother into a tight hug. Dean must have been staring because next Gabriel turns to him with a wide smirk. “Aww, Dean-o, is my baby brothers boy-toy feeling left out? Come’ere-” He pulled Dean into a bone-crushing embrace that left him a little light headed when the shorter man set him down back onto his feet.

“Gabriel, I didn’t expect you to be here.” Cas said, surprised.

“Well, I wasn’t going to come but when I heard Cassie was coming and bringing ‘his significant other’ I just had to make sure it was Dean here they were talking about. I am hurt that not once you mentioned to me that you two finally pulled your heads out of your asses and got together. I mean, I am your brother and-”

“Is that Castiel?” A voice said from behind.

Gabriel stepped back to reveal its owner, and it was no one other than Naomi Novak, Cas’s mother. She walked up to the door, shooing Gabriel to the side and gesturing for them both to come inside. She smiled when Dean looked at her but it didn’t reach her eyes and looked unnatural on her tight face.

She closed the door behind them and waited for them to strip off their coats, scanning their jeans and Henleys with an air of distaste. Naomi kept that smile plastered on her face, however, as she led them deeper into the house to what must be the family room.

There was a gas-lit fire burning in the large fireplace under the mantle where the TV hung, traditional Christmas music playing off one of those music channels. Cas led him over to the couch, adjusting the throw pillows to make the stiff furniture a little more comfortable. Gabriel strode in just as they got settled and splayed himself out on a white leather chair across from them.

“I’ll just be a moment. Your brothers are in the kitchen, I’ll go bring them out to say hello to you and…” Naomi looked over at Dean questioningly.

“Dean. Dean Winchester.” Dean said, finding it a little odd that Naomi couldn’t remember his name. He’s come over for barbeques and such as a friend before, perhaps she was doing it to piss off Cas.

“Yes, Dean.” She finished, the ugly smile twisting her lips again. “Oh! And I almost forgot to mention, your father decided to join us tonight as well, he is upstairs and will be down soon.”

He felt Cas squeeze his hand tighter and his face paled slightly at the mention of Chuck. Gabriel sent a worried glance their way as Naomi strutted off to the kitchen, satisfied with her work.

“It’s going to be ok, I’ll be right here.” Dean whispered and Cas nodded in reply.

Cas hated his father. Chuck left when he was 5, disappearing until he was almost 15. Naomi welcomed him back as if he was never gone, ignoring the fact that he was a broke alcoholic. Cas had a horrid few years till he got out of the house and to college where he met Dean.

Dean was studying to be an English teacher, Cas a writer. They had met one eventful evening when Dean rounded a corner too fast, running straight(haha yeah right) into Castiel in a fatal collision that ruined 2 cups of coffee and a shit ton of papers.

“So,” Gabriel said, attempting to clear the tension, “how long?”

“What?” Dean said, looking over to where the man was sprawled out in the chair.

“How long have you two been a pair?”

“Uhh,” Dean glanced over at Cas who shrugged. “You sure you wanna know?”

“It’s not like it's been going on for that long. Spill!”

Dean cleared his throat, “about four years now.”

“Ha nice try. For real now, how long?”

“He’s right, it’ll be five years next fall.” Cas stated.

Gabe’s jaw dropped as he looked between the two of them. He seemed to catch up because the next moment he was standing up and shrieking, “ WHAT! Four years! Cassie why didn’t you tell me!”

Cas cowered back into the still cushions, but thankfully, whatever was about to happen was interrupted by someone clearing their throat from the doorway. Michael stepped into the room, tailed by Lucifer and Naomi. They all walked over and settled down one the couch and the remaining chair, leaving a space for Chuck.

They ease into a shallow conversation about the rise in profits at Michael’s company. Dean tunes out, letting the sound of Michael’s money talk become background noise to his thoughts. Cas was still gripping his hand tightly, his posture ridgid as if waiting for something to pounce.

Dean rubbed his thumb gently over Cas’s knuckles in a soothing gesture, hoping to silently comfort and remind him of his support and presence. After a while, Cas did seem to relax a bit. His grip was a bit looser and he was leaning back against the couch now. Everything seemed to be going great until Chuck Novak made his way into the room and sat down on the couch where he could look directly at Cas and Dean.

Cas immediately was on alert once more and even Dean felt the hairs on his neck rise. Chuck skimmed over them with a blank expression, pausing briefly at their conjoined hands.

The thing is, Chuck 'doesn't mind the LGBTs’ as long as it’s not his son. When it comes to this, the cowardish, skittish little man Chuck appears to be takes the back seat while a stone cold, angry version takes up front. Dean has only seen that happen once before when Gabe had mentioned relationships he has had with members of the same sex before he had met Kahli, and he is not happy to be seeing it again.

Dean tries to turn his attention to the conversation. Lucifer and Michael are explaining in extraneous detail what the company's main goal is to Naomi who seems to be understanding most of it. He thinks for a second that tonight may just go ok when the conversation ends, allowing the main focus to switch to the couple.

“So,” Naomi asks, “how long have you been together.”

“Four years.” Castiel states, looking his father in the eyes as he does so.

They all look a little taken aback that the two had been together for that long without anyone knowing about it in the slightest.

“And how’s that going for you?” She says through her fake smile.

“Quite well, actually,” Dean says, “We have an apartment together in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Im a High School English teacher there. We are really happy there.”

“Are you sure?” Chuck cut in.

“What?”

“Are you ok with… you know?” Chuck said, waving his hands around like Dean was supposed to know what he was talking about.

“If he ok with what, Chuck?” Cas said, a hint of anger in his voice. “Me being asexual?”

“Honey, there is no need to get angry, we are just making sure Dean thinks it’s a fair relationship for him.” Naomi chides.

A burst of rage sparks in Dean’s chest and he can see the turmoil in Cas’s eyes as he glares at his father. How can someone speak like that about their child? About someone as amazing as Cas?

“Dean, you can’t possibly be happy in a relationship like that! People like you love sex, right?”

This isn’t the first time the comment has been thrown his way but after what they had just said to Cas, it snaps something in Dean. A tight ball of anger bubbles in his chest as he fights to keep from blowing up. He takes a deep breath and meets Chuck’s eyes.

“People like me, meaning Bisexuals?” Dean says, keeping his voice as cool as possible.

Naomi flinches at the word a bit but agrees.

“I am perfectly happy in my relationship with Cas. Contrary to your belief, bisexuals are not sex driven animals and asexuals aren't broken people who will never find love and you have to be seriously messed up to think that sex is necessary for a relationship.” Dean snaps before standing up from the couch, pulling Cas up with him. “Thanks for having us, we’ll be leaving now.”

He borderline stomps to the front door and helps Cas with his coat before donning his own and they head out to the impala. He starts the car, blasting the heat and driving off in silence. They are just pulling out of the suburb area when he hears a sniffle from Cas. Dean instantly pulls the car over and flicks on his hazards before slinging across the bench seat.

Dean opens his arms and Cas slides over and buries his face in Dean’s chest, his fingers twisting up in the back of Dean’s coat as a sob slips out. Followed by another, and another until Cas is clinging to Dean, crying into his coat as Dean gently runs his hands up and down Cas’s back, whispering soft affirmations between kisses into Cas’s hair.

When Cas’s breathing evens out, he leans back from Dean, wiping at his red eyes and nose with his sleeve.

“M’sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, sunshine. Hey, how about we go to that festival we saw driving in, hmm?”

Cas nodded and buckled back into his seat while Dean buckled his own and pulled back on the road. He turned up the volume as I’m Dreaming Of A White Christmas began to play. Dean smiled as he thought back to the first snow of the season. It was early November when the weather took a dip.

Cas’s cheeks were rosy and he kept wiping his nose, the cold air making their breath come out in small puffs while they trudged their way up the hill, dragging the plastic sled behind them.

When they reached the top, Dean pushed the sled down into the snow and plopped into the back of the bright orange contraption, planting his feet to make sure it wouldn't slide before they were ready. Cas straddled in front of Dean before sitting down and falling back against Dean’s chest, putting his feet in the front of the sled and trying to make enough room for Dean’s with the thick snow pants on.

Dean wrapped his arms around the front of Cas to grab the thin rope used to steer the thing, Cas grabbed a hold too, smiling in anticipation. Dean scootched forward and the sled barely moved an inch. Cas laughed and began scooching in sync with Dean and before they knew it, Dean had his feet up in the front of the sled with Cas and they rocketed down the hill, whooping and laughing all the way down.

The thought helped ease some of the emotions swirling in his stomach as they drove into town. Knowing how much Cas loves it, despite his insistence on the opposite, Dean begins singing along to the song.

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.

Just like the ones I used to know.”

Dean looked over at Cas and gave him a smile before continuing.

“ Where the tree-tops glisten,

And children listen,

To hear, sleigh bells in the snow.”

He hears Cas clear his throat and join in on the next line.

“I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

“With every Christmas card I write

“May your days be merry and bright

“And may all your Christmases be white”

Cas laid his hand palm up in the middle of the seat and Dean took it, lifting it up to his face and dropping a kiss to his knuckles before singing the next lines.

“I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

“With every Christmas card I write

“May your days be merry and bright

“And may all your Christmases be white

“May your days be merry and bright

“And may all your Christmases be white”

The song ended just as they pulled into the lot. There weren't many people here, but that’s perfect for them tonight. The soft colored lights and sweet smells of the carnival made the night seem warmer than the frigid temperature it actually was.

Dean reached over the seat and came back with some hats and gloves for him, mittens for Cas. He put his on, waiting for Cas to do the same before they got out of the car and held hands as they made their way to the small ticket booth by the entrance. Dean handed over some cash and took his tickets with a ‘thanks’ before making his way towards the rides.

“Ooo let’s go get some hot chocolate.” Dean said, pulling Cas over to the warm, coca scented tent and ordering two cups.

The heat from the paper cup could be felt through Dean’s glove as he walked, taking careful sips to not burn his tongue on the too-hot chocolate.

“Dean, can we go on the ferris wheel?” Cas asked, gesturing towards the white metal ride with red and orange lights making spirals along the beams.

“Sure, why not.”

They went up to the lady sitting by the control panel and handed her the required amount of tickets for the ride and stepped into the carriage. Dean watched Cas from his side of the car, watching how Cas looked out the window, wiping the glass when his breath fogs it up too much to see out of. He feels a small smile tug at the corner of his lips when Cas turns and meets his eyes.

“Dean,” Cas starts.

“Yeah?”

“Does it bother you? My asexuality?” Cas said, looking down at the floor.

“Of course not Cas! I love you. I don’t need sex to love you. And it’s not like we’ve never had sex, just not frequently, and I am ok with that. I love you and love to spend time with you and that’s what matters to me.” Dean says softly, leaning forwards across the narrow aisle to take Cas’s hands in his.

What did Dean do to get someone like Cas? Someone so caring and compassionate, so smart and creative, so… Cas.

“Castiel James Novak, my sex indiferent asexual boyfriend and best friend, I love you so much. More than pie, more than Baby, hell, more than anything. Any day I spend with you is a good day. You are the kindest, smartest, most caring person I know and I’ll be damned to let some asshole make you think that you could ever not be loved.”

There were tears flowing down Cas’s cheeks and Dean wiped them away with his thumbs before pulling Cas in for a caste kiss, and another, and again. He peppered Cas’s forehead, cheeks, nose, and lips with soft kisses before pressing his lips firmly but softly to Cas’s warm, slightly chapped ones.

Cas let his tongue flick out on Dean’s bottom lip and taking full advantage of the opening Dean’s gasp gives to dive deeper into his mouth with his tongue. Dean gives as much as he gets, trying to push as much of his love into one single kiss as humanly possible.

When they break away, both panting slightly, their car is stopped at the top of the Ferris wheel. They look out the small windows at the town and its rows of light adorned houses.

“It’s beautiful.” Cas sighs.

“Not as beautiful as you.” Dean replies.

“Aww getting all sappy, Dean?” Cas chuckles.

“No- I- No-” Cas cuts Dean off by pressing another kiss to his lips.

They break apart in fits of laughter, their car shaking as they laugh and laugh and laugh. They only stop once the wheel begins moving again but when they get off, they both have bright smiles on their faces.

The smiles stay the rest of the night and all the way home as they sing Christmas songs on the ride home all the way to the moment they strip out of their winter clothes and get ready for bed, curling under the soft covers in each other's arms.

“I love you.” Dean whispers as he tetters on the verge of sleep and just as he tumbles over, he hears Cas say back, “I love you, too.”

~~~~~~(Feel free to ask to be added to the tag list)~~~~~~

@kinda-not-really-vibing

[perfectlyrose]

wrong number, right person

Summary: Complete accident brings Rose and John into each other’s lives by way of a misdialed phone number but as they form a friendship that could bloom into love, it almost seems more like fate.

Pairing: Ten x Rose || Rating: All ages || Word Count: 4264

Note: For Day Seven of 31 Days of Ficmas: prompt “ring.” This is... so much longer than I intended it to be when I started writing lol. - tagging @doctorroseprompts for the event :)

AO3

Rose answered her phone without looking to see who was calling, assuming it was Jack for the third time that evening. “I told you Jack, I can’t come out tonight, I’ve got homework and a bloody astronomy exam tomorrow I need to revise for.”

“Um, I think I have the wrong number but I could probably give you some tips on astronomy if you need them,” a male voice on the other end of the line that was decidedly not Jack said.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. My friend has been calling me non-stop trying to get me to go clubbing with him tonight and I just assumed he was trying again,” Rose said, cheeks heating.

“No need to apologize! I’m the one who dialed wrong and interrupted your revising,” the man said, very cheerful for someone talking to a stranger.

“It wasn’t going well, so I really don’t mind.”

“I meant it when I said I could give you some astronomy tips. I umm… I might have a doctorate in the subject.” The last sentence came out in a rush, like he was nervous about admitting it.

“Really? You sure you’re not trying to impress some random girl on the phone?” Rose teased.

“Honestly, astronomy and astrophysics don’t usually do the trick.”

“Got degrees in both?”

“Yeah.”

“Bit brilliant, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Rose laughed. “Alright mystery doctor, want to give an impromptu intro to astronomy lecture over the phone to a stranger?”

“Love to, actually. What unit is your exam on?”

“Honestly, if you can make parallax equations make sense I will probably propose marriage at this point,” Rose admitted. “I’m really lost.”

He laughed. “Proposing to me and you don’t even know who I am. Bit hasty but I like it.”

“Hey, I just said I might propose, no promises. Besides, this is dependent on your teaching skills.”

“I’ll have to be impressive then.”

“You better be, I’d like to pass this exam,” she shot back. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“John, but you can keep calling me Doctor, if you want.”

She raised her eyebrows even though he couldn’t see. “Alright, Doctor.”

Rose could practically hear his smile.

“Alright, ready to learn?”

“I guess. Last chance and all that.”

“Brilliant!”

With that he launched into a lecture that was far more engaging than any of the actual classes Rose had attended. Her impromptu professor had a tendency to go off on tangents but also a knack for actually describing things in a way that made sense to her and by the end of the conversation, she actually felt like she might pass the test.

“Thank you so much,” she said, things winding to a close. They’d been talking for an hour at least. “You have definitely earned a potential marriage proposal.”

He laughed, the sound warm and low. “Wait and see if you actually pass that exam.”

“Seriously though, thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

“I don’t know who you were trying to call but I’m really glad you rang me instead.”

“Me too.”

“Alight, goodnight then, Doctor.”

“Night, Rose.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Rose got her exam grade back and saw that she’d actually passed by more than a smidge, she quickly snapped a picture and texted it to her mystery caller.

Text to Space Doctor [5:32 pm]: <Image attached>

Text to Space Doctor [5:32 pm]: i passed! ready to accept my proposal?

Text to Starry Rose [5:36 pm]: Congratulations! Knew you could do it!

Text to Space Doctor [5:42 pm]: my prof is probably going to think i cheated

Text to Starry Rose [5:43 pm]: Nonsense! You’re brilliant!

Text to Space Doctor [5:45 pm]: science isn’t really my thing but thx

Text to Starry Rose [5:50 pm]: Feel free to call me up if you need help again. I’m happy to be of assistance.

Text to Starry Rose [5:54 pm]: If you want. That was probably weird to offer. Sorry. I just like to help and I enjoyed talking to you.

Text to Space Doctor [6:01 pm]: thatd be brilliant!!!! im def going to take you up on that

Text to Space Doctor [6:02 pm]: sorry cant chat rn. at my mums for dinner

Text to Starry Rose [6:02 pm]: Have fun! Look forward to talking again soon :)

Rose stowed her phone back in her purse and headed into the kitchen to help her mum with a smile on her face.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“You know, I never asked who you were trying to call when you ended up ringing me,” Rose said. “Last time, I mean. Obviously, since I called you this time.”

It was a couple weeks after that first call. They’d texted on and off about random things and Rose was really starting to consider him a friend despite never having laid eyes on him. With another exam looming, she’d called John up for another tutoring session.

“Oh, my sister, Donna. She wanted to try and talk me into coming to some dinner party so really you saved me,” he said, voice completely earnest.

“Happy to help.”

“Gracious of you. Ready to start?”

“Don’t need an offer of marriage beforehand?”

“I am a patient man, Rose,” he said loftily.

Rose snorted. “No you’re not. Even I could tell you that.”

“Rude.”

“Teach me of the stars oh wise, patient Doctor,” she intoned, laying the sarcasm on thick.

“Still rude but I’ll let it slide this time.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Text to Space Doctor [8:34 pm]: i looked up the going rate for tutors and i’m really glad you aren’t charging me anything

Text to Starry Rose [8:37 pm]: Who says I’m not logging hours to bill you later?

Text to Space Doctor [8:41 pm]: would have to find an address for me to bill me :)

Text to Starry Rose [8:43 pm]: That /is/ a dilemma.

Text to Space Doctor [8:47 pm]: besides… i already offered to marry you in exchange for your services as tutor. not my fault you didn’t take me up on that excellent deal

Text to Starry Rose [8:50 pm]: I still could.

Text to Space Doctor [8:51 pm]: nope too late now. missed ur chance ;)

Text to Starry Rose [8: 54 pm]: A true tragedy.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Oi! Spaceman, are you listening to me at all?”

John whipped his head up to give Donna a sheepish expression. “Yes?”

“You weren’t. You had that goofy smile on your face that means you were texting that Rose girl.”

“I did not!”

“You so did. When are you going to actually ask her out?”

He sighed. “I don’t even know if she’s in London, Donna. Can’t exactly take her to dinner if she’s not in the city.”

“But you do want to take her to dinner!” Donna crowed.

John rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone after shooting off a quick text to Rose. “Yes, fine. I’d like to actually meet her in person and maybe eat while doing so. Happy?”

“For now.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Text to Starry Rose [10:21 am]: I wish I was anywhere except this meeting right now.

Text to Space Doctor [10:22 am]: probs better than my astronomy lecture

Text to Space Doctor [10:23 am]: i swear this guy doesn’t realize half the class is asleep

Text to Starry Rose [10:25 am]: I would MUCH rather be in an astronomy lecture right now.

Text to Space Doctor [10:26 am]: nerd

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Ooh, are you texting your mystery man again, Rosie?” Jack asked, leaning closer to her. They were out at the pub and crammed into a booth with three other people.

Rose rolled her eyes. “He is not my mystery man. He’s just a friend who’s helping me pass astronomy.”

“You don’t even text me that much,” Jack said, eyebrows raised. “So, come on, spill the beans.”

Rose groaned and reached for her beer. “I might, might, have a crush on my mystery man.”

Jack cheered, drawing looks from everyone else at their table. “So make a move!”

“I don’t even know who he is, Jack! He probably doesn’t even live around here.”

“So?”

“So that makes making a move a bit difficult, yeah?”

“You two lovebirds already have a great connection. What’s a bit of distance and putting a face to a name?”

“A lot.”

“Fine, fine. Just think about it though.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Text to Space Doctor [1:47 am]: u stil up?

Text to Starry Rose [1:49 am]: Yes. Didn’t realize it was so late, actually.

Text to Space Doctor [1:52 am]: jack got me drynkj

Text to Space Doctor [1:53 am]: drunk. ha!

Text to Starry Rose [1:54 am]: All his fault?

Text to Space Doctor [1:56 am]: no

Text to Space Doctor [1:57 am]: ur falt too

Text to Starry Rose [2:00 am]: Really? How so?

Text to Starry Rose [2:05 am]: Rose?

Text to Starry Rose [2:11 am]: Are you alright? Do you need someone to come get you or anything? I’m in London but I can call a cab anywhere.

Text to Starry Rose [2:20 am]: I’m going to hope you just fell asleep or your phone died but let me know that you’re alright when you see these messages.

Text to Space Doctor [7:46 am]: remind me never to drink w/ jack again.

Text to Space Doctor [7:47 am]: my head is killing me

Text to Space Doctor [7:54 am]: sorry for worrying u last night. fell asleep

Text to Space Doctor [8:02 am]: also sorry for drunk texting you

Text to Starry Rose [9:13 am]: Glad you’re alright. You can text me whenever, you know that :)

Text to Space Doctor [9:14 am]: :) :) :)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“I still can’t believe you haven’t finished reading Harry Potter,” John complained. They’d been talking for almost three months now and, as far as she could tell, he had called tonight specifically to complain about her lack of Harry Potter knowledge.

“I’ve been a bit busy.”

“The last one has been out for ten years, Rose.”

“I’ll get there!”

“You’ve at least seen the movies, right?”

“The first couple. I’m waiting to read the books,” she said, grinning. This was too easy.

He groaned dramatically. “I’m not sure I can be friends with you.”

Rose laughed. “You know you are far too easy to wind up, right?”

“What?”

“Doctor, I’ve read the whole series like three times and seen all the movies,” she admitted, still grinning as she moved into her kitchen to pour a glass of wine.

“I cannot believe you.”

“Still want to be friends?”

He sniffed, dramatic to the end. “I suppose, but you’re on thin ice.”

“Even if I tell you my theories on the Sorting Hat?”

“...I’m listening.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Text to Space Doctor [3:34 pm]: i’m going to fail all my finals but especially astronomy

Text to Starry Rose [3:36 pm]: You’re going to do brilliantly. Want me to call tonight to help go over things?

Text to Space Doctor [3:39 pm]: please. i’ll be home around 7?

Text to Starry Rose [3:45 pm]: I’ll talk to you then!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Rose walked out of her astronomy final feeling cautiously optimistic about how she’d done. She quickly fished out her mobile and turned it back on to text John. She quickly shot off a message that she’d survived and then headed straight to Tesco’s to get a celebratory bottle of wine.

Jack wasn’t finished with his tests until tomorrow so they were going out then. Tonight was all hers and she had a date with Netflix and at least one bottle of wine.

She was settling down on her sofa when her mobile buzzed in her pocket. Rose quickly checked it and smiled when she saw it was a text from the Doctor.

Text to Starry Rose [6:52 pm]: Congratulations on making it through your class! I’m sure you aced the final!

Text to Space Doctor [6:54 pm]: SO glad to be done with that class

Text to Space Doctor [6:55 pm]: celebrating with alcohol and crap telly. any watching suggestions before i pick something?

Text to Starry Rose [6:59 pm]: Star Trek?

Text to Space Doctor [7:02 pm]: omg you are so predictable

She grinned and queued up the next episode of the comedy she’d started a week ago and settled in for a cozy night.

About three quarters of the way through her bottle of wine, Rose had the sudden realization that without astronomy class, she wouldn’t have a built-in excuse to call John anymore. She knew they were friends, but what if everything was built on that tutor relationship and things started crumbling.

She’d known for a while that she had a massive crush on her mysterious friend, despite having no clue what he looked like or any identifying details about him. She took a healthy sip of her wine and picked up her phone, quickly opening her conversation with John.

Maybe meeting in person was the next step. She’d wanted to for ages but something had held her back. Fear. The fear that he would be disappointed by who she was outside of their phone conversations or that maybe she would be disappointed in him, but she thought that scenario unlikely. The fear that actually meeting would somehow ruin the magic of their instant friendship.

That feeling was suppressed by red wine, showing up only as a tickle in the pit of her stomach as she started typing.

Text to Space Doctor [8:50 pm]: you know… we should meet up sometime. get chips or something

Text to Space Doctor [8:53 pm]: i’m in london too. don’t know if i ever told you that

Text to Space Doctor [8:56 pm]: but i’d really like to properly meet you.

Text to Space Doctor [9:00 pm]: only if you want tho

Rose stared down at her phone, biting her bottom lips as the television played on unnoticed. He usually answered faster than this. Had she made him uncomfortable? Oh god, what if she’d completely screwed things up?

She set her phone aside and tried to concentrate on her show and reclaim the celebratory mood she’d felt earlier but it was gone.

Soon the wine was as well.

John never texted back.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Jack arrived at Rose’s flat the next afternoon, he expected to find his friend chipper and ready for a night out on the town now that they were done with the semester. Instead, she opened the door in sweats and an oversized t-shirt, expression drawn.

“Whoa there, Rosie. You feeling alright?” he asked, stepping into her flat and closing the door behind him.

“I’m fine,” she said, giving him a wan smile. “Just lost track of time. I’ll go get ready, you know where everything is.”

“Hey now,” he said, grabbing onto her arm so she didn’t get very far. “What’s wrong? Did you get a bad exam grade back or something? It’s not like you to be so down, especially when we’re free of classes for a bit!”

“I’m fine!”

“You’re not. Fight with your mystery boy?”

Rose looked away and Jack felt a protective anger rising in his chest.

“What did the jackass do?”

“Nothing, that’s the problem,” she said with a sigh, sagging back against the back of the sofa.

“Care to elaborate?”

“I’d texted him earlier last night to tell him I’d survived the astronomy final and everything seemed fine and then I had to go and open my stupid mouth after having a lot of wine.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

She sighed. “I asked him if he wanted to meet up sometime, like in person. Get chips or something.”

“And he didn’t answer you?”

“S’like he fell off the face of the planet. I haven’t heard from him all day.”

“Aw, Rose, I’m sorry. I know you really like him.” Jack gathered her into a hug and his heart cracked a bit when he heard her sniffle.

“I really really do. Why won’t he answer me? He could just say no and we could stay phone friends at least.”

“I don’t know, Rosie. Your man’s an idiot.”

She laughed, a small watery thing but a laugh nonetheless. “Yeah he is.”

“Wanna stay in and watch cheesy chick flicks and eat ice cream?”

“I don’t want to ruin your night, Jack. You go ahead and go out without me,” she insisted, pulling back from the hug.

“Nope. I’m spending the night with you. We can go out another time when you’ll actually have fun.”

“I might have already eaten all my ice cream.”

“I’ll go get us some more while you pick out movies. Deal?”

“Throw in some wine and you’ve got one.”

“Perfect.”

They shook on it like they always did and then Jack kissed her forehead and waltzed back out the door.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

John sped back to town, anxious to get to his flat where he would have both a charged mobile and service so he could use it. He’d gone on a stargazing trip and forgotten that he wouldn’t have any reception or power and he hadn’t told Rose that he was going off the grid.

Damn but he missed her. He was really hoping that she still wanted to be friends now that she didn’t need his astronomy knowledge any more. He thought that she would but there was still this niggling worry that maybe he thought they were better friends than they were. He could be blinded by the ginormous crush he had on her but he was almost positive that they were legitimately friends.

The moment he stepped into his flat he dropped his bag on the floor with a thud and made a beeline for the phone charger by his bed. Powering up his mobile, he winced at the number of texts he’d missed. A couple were from Donna but he went straight to his messages with Rose.

He couldn’t contain his grin when he read the first few, the ones that said she wanted to meet him. John couldn’t believe he’d missed these! Then his heart fell into his stomach as he kept reading.

Text to Space Doctor [10:34 am]: if you don’t want to meet up u can just say so

Text to Space Doctor [10:40 am]: i’m not going to hold it against you or anythin

Text to Space Doctor [5:45 pm]: i hope you’re alright. not like you not to text back.

Text to Space Doctor [6:02 pm]: sorry if i made things awkward

Text to Space Doctor [11:22 am]: you know what, fuck this. i really want to meet you because i really like you and you’re one of my best friends now. you don’t have to up and ghost me just out of the blue like this

Text to Space Doctor [1:30 pm]: please at least let me know that you’re okay

John swore profusely as he checked the time and realized that her last text was from four hours ago. She’d been texting him all weekend, thinking he was just ignoring her because he was an idiot and forgot to tell her he was going out of range.

Hands shaking, he hit the dial button and raised the phone to his ear, praying she’d actually pick up.

“Nice of you to finally answer me,” she said acidly when she picked up on what he thought was the last ring before it went to voicemail. “I do like to know that my friend isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“Rose, I’m so sorry,” he started.

“For worrying me or for being a prick or for something else?”

“Everything? I was on a stargazing trip and I forgot that I wouldn’t have service out there. And then my phone died and I’d forgotten to pack my charger and I just got back to my flat and saw your messages. I called right away. I’m so sorry.” The words spilled out of him, like if he got them out fast enough, Rose would believe him faster and they could move past this and get to the meeting up part that he really hoped she still wanted to do.

There was silence for a moment and then he heard Rose start laughing.

“Rose?”

“Oh my god, I was worried that I’d scared you off and then that something had happened and you were just being your normal idiot self,” she said through her laughs.

“Um, yeah pretty much. And for the record, you proposed to me during our first conversation, I don’t think you’re scaring me off now,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Well, that’s good to hear.”

“So, chips? I’ll buy. I really want to meet you too.” He paused, heart racing as he worked on getting the words out. “I kinda really like you too,” he said.

“It’s a date,” Rose said. He could hear the smile in her voice and he grinned too.

“Brilliant!”

“Are you free right now? I could murder a basket of chips right about now.”

“I am! Just have to wait for my phone to finish charging.”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the address of my favorite chippy?”

“Sounds good.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later then!”

John made a little happy noise and Rose laughed.

“I like the sound of that too,” she admitted.

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Bye, Doctor.”

“Bye Rose.”

They rang off and the Doctor just grinned down at his phone. He had a date with Rose! A real proper date!

His mobile buzzed and he quickly opened the message from Rose.

Text to Space Doctor [5:47 pm]: meet in an hour? this is the address.

Text to Space Doctor [5:47 pm]: <image attached>

Text to Space Doctor [5:48 pm]: and that’s me so you know who you’re looking for ;)

Text to Space Doctor [5:49 pm]: see you soon! xx

Text to Starry Rose [5:49 pm]: You are gorgeous.

Text to Starry Rose [5:50 pm]: <image attached>

Text to Starry Rose [5:50 pm]: One hour. See you soon :) xx

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Within five minutes of meeting, neither of them could remember why they were so nervous about doing this. They talked as easily as they had over the phone and text for months but now, they could see the smiles they were drawing from the other person and brush fingers as they stole chips from each other.

Rose teased John endlessly about forgetting his wallet when he had promised to buy but said that they were definitely on him next time. His answering grin was so wide and bright that Rose thought she might pay for the chips all the time just to see it.

They reluctantly parted ways after a couple hours, heading in opposite directions outside of the shop. Rose had barely made it around the first corner when her phone vibrated in her hand.

Text to Starry Rose [9:15 pm]: Have plans for tomorrow?

Text to Space Doctor [9:16 pm]: miss me already? ;)

Text to Starry Rose [9:16 pm]: Yes.

Text to Space Doctor [9:16 pm]: big ol’ softie <3 i miss you too

Text to Space Doctor [9:17 pm]: and no i don’t have anything planned

Text to Starry Rose [9:18 pm]: Good. Want to hang out with me?

Text to Space Doctor [9:18 pm]: absolutely. give me the details when you know them?

Text to Starry Rose [9:20 pm]: Will do :)

Text to Space Doctor [11:15 pm]: so i figure i might as well put this out there before i see you tomorrow. i meant it when i said i really like you and you should know that it’s as more than just a friend. i’m hopin that you feel the same but if not than we can stay just friends

Text to Space Doctor [11:18 pm]: really what i’m trying to say is that if you’re not completely opposed to the idea i’m probably going to kiss you tomorrow

Text to Starry Rose [11:19 pm]: Honestly, I almost kissed you today when we hugged goodbye so I’m definitely not opposed and I feel the same way :)

Text to Space Doctor [11:20 pm]: !!!!

Text to Starry Rose [11:20 pm]: Haha, my feelings exactly!

Text to Space Doctor [11:22 pm]: so… do you want to just come over to mine tomorrow and watch netflix and maybe make out on the couch?

Text to Space Doctor [11:23 pm]: i might even let you convince me to watch star trek finally

Text to Starry Rose [11:23 pm]: Yes.

Text to Starry Rose [11:23 pm]: Also yes to the Star Trek. You’re going to love it!

Text to Space Doctor [11:24 pm]: your nerdery is catching, apparently

Text to Space Doctor [11:24 pm]: i only didn’t watch it before because i thought it would be more fun to watch it with you

Text to Starry Rose [11:25 pm]: Now who’s the big ol’ softie? :)) <3

Text to Space Doctor [11:25 pm]: the promise of make outs helps too

Text to Space Doctor [11:26 pm]: still you <3

Text to Starry Rose [11: 28 pm]: I’m going to get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow! xx

Text to Space Doctor [11:29 pm]: goodnight doctor <3 see you tomorrow xx

[urgentinformation]

WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME ABOUT THIS HOLBY CITY SHIT #22

I DIDN'T EVEN WATCH OR REVIEW LAST WEEKS EP (oops) 'CAUSE I WAS IN SPAIN SO THIS SHOULD BE inTeReStiNg

-OKAY I'M SAD THAT IT'S MY G ARTHUR'S DEATH ANNIVERSARY AND THAT BUT I CAN'T HELP BUT NOTICE THAT CAMILLA IS SERVING LOOKKS IN THAT OUTFIT😍 I NEED A COLD SHOWER JESSUUS

-I LOVE CURLY FRIES BUT HE REALLY NEEDS TO LEARN HOW TO NOT SPILL HIS SECRETS TO EVERY TOM DICK AND JAN BECAUSE SWEDISH FISH OVER HERE BE LOOKIN (AND SOUNDING) LIKE A STEREOTYPICAL EVIL VILLAIN SO LIEK IT MIGHT NOT HAVE THE BEST OUTCOMES

-"lofty, he's a friendly guy" "yeah, the friendliest" YOUNG👏STALIN👏WE👏ALL👏KNOW👏YOU👏CAN👏DO👏BETTER👏THAN👏THAT👏

- WHEN SWEDISH FISH WAS STANDING BEHIND YOUNG STALIN (WHEN HE WAS GOSSIPIN ABOUT HIM) I FELT LIKE I WAS IN A FUKING PANTO SHOUTING "HE'S BEHIND YOU"

-IM SH00KETH, HOLBY WRITERS ACTUALLY LET YOUNG STALIN GET HELP BEFORE HE HAD AN OVERDOSE✊✊ mY S0N iS GOiNG t0 bE 0Kay GuYs

-SINCE WHEN DID LITTLE TWAT BECOME A WRITER?? STARTED WRITING HIS OWN EULOGY ALREADY U KNOW

-NAH THAT SMIRK THAT SWEDISH FISH DID WHEN THEY SAID HIS NAME SENT FUKING SHIVERS DOWN MY SPINE

-GOSSIP GURL IS SLAYINNN IN SURGERY!!! LIKE SHE'S SO CALM AND COLLECTED!! UR FAVE COULD NEVER

-bitch i spoke too soon

-I SPY WITH MY LITTLE EYE A DYING FATHER AND A BIPOLAR STORYLINE

-SWEDISH FISH IS DOING SOME WILD GAMES, ACTING LIKE LIFE IS A GAME OF JENGA U KNOW; OOH WHICH BLOCK SHALL WE PULL TODAY?? EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION OR SNEAKY SABOTAGING?

-WHY.ARE.ALL.THE.PATIENTS.PYSCHIC.THO.

-DONNA DID THIS ALL FOR A JOKE?? IS SHE OKAY?? THE MOST AMOUNT OF MONEY IVE EVER SPENT ON A JOKE IS THE AMOUNT OF MONEY IT COSTS TO PUT MINTS IN A WHITE SKITTLES PACKET M8

-WAIT IS THAT MY LESBIANS OFFICE?? ARE THEY REALLY DOING THIS?? EVERYTHING BETTER BE BACK WHERE IT WAS BY NEXT WEEK OR I S2G THEy GoN CatCh These HanDs

-DID ANYONE ELSE START, WITHOUT REALISING, BREATHING HEAVILY ALONG WITH SWEDISH FISH AT THE END😂

OVERALL THOUGHTS:

everyone at holby bein sneaky as fuck today, like is this a hospital or a snake conservation bc honestly i can't see the difference anymore

[almaasi]

hello friends i wanna talk about my new 27k Destiel museum AU fic Night Exhibition for a minute, just tell you about the ideas/themes/reasoning behind it or whatever. (contains some spoilers for the story.) i’ll try and make this brief (hA!), god knows i don’t usually. let’s try bullet points

i wrote this fic in one week, as a rushed project so i could post before the end of may. i spent the rest of may working on a longer fic which i’ll likely post mid- to late june~

this whole thing came about because i wanted to write a sex position that i’mma call power stance rimming. that’s the entire reason this exists.

it took me  m o n t h s  of different au concepts (funnily enough i started with a museum cafe idea, and came back to that. i also considered an ultrasound clinic, a 1800s cowboy ranch out in the desert, and just a plain old coffee shop.)

the ~generic museum~ i set this in is based on probably 5 or 6 i’ve been to in my life, in london, ohio, and new zealand. and art galleries and glass gardens. all of them, all at once. (kinda relieved i could work in the genericness as an in-joke between the characters)

initially, dean and cas’ relationship was heavily inspired by jensen and misha’s relationship dynamics, which i’m inclined to call a “romantic friendship”. dean and cas at the start of the fic are not dating, nor banging, they’re just friends who are quietly in love, not realising their sexual attraction is mutual.

cas isn’t ~outwardly~ autistic in the same way he’s vocal about his a/gender-fluidity and asexuality. i just wanted to comfortably describe him as autistic in the tags without it being Part Of The Story, although it does obviously inform his belated realisation that dean is sexually attracted to him, not just his uniform. there’s a whole host of traits he displays that make him the precious and important beansprout he is. as per usual, i projected onto him an awful lot. the tape rewinding issue? me. i have a headcanon that he uses his headphones while working in the gift shop sometimes, just to block out background noise.

honestly, demisexual + agender + autistic cas is my favourite fruit-machine jackpot of cas traits. he feels so comfortably right when i write him that way.

this is one of the few fics i’ve written where large chunks were written out of order. the videocalls dean and cas have, first with max & alicia, then sam & eileen, were all planned beforehand, but added after i reached the end, because i wanted those guys in there, and not having them there disappointed me. (cellphones are useful. portable characters!!)

a few days ago i was watching this video by noodlerella and i was like “okay what the hell is ‘rick and morty’” so i googled it, ended up on the wikipedia page of dan harmon (the creator of that show, and another show i used to watch, ‘community’), and found a really helpful circular storytelling thing for tv show writing. and i was like aAAH IT FITS MY STORY because i had almost all of it written then, and the stuff i’d written already was literally word-for-word what this story circle described. so i was like, screw it, let’s consciously use a story circle for the first time ever. and thus, it was done. and it helped inform my end scene. i may use it again as a reference in the future, maybe. i seem to do the same thing naturally anyway, but having it broken down like that could be an asset. (also cool: harmon’s page says he figured out he was on the autism spectrum while researching for the character of abed from ‘community’. same for me, while researching for cas in Of Shampoo and Fruit Flies.)

yes, the original point of this fic was the sex. but personally i find it hard to appreciate just a sex scene alone without character development and build-up, hence the first half of the fic being exactly that.

my favourite bits of the fic are in the egyptian exhibit (i love dean’s reaction to everything); when dean & cas slowdance to bob dylan; when cas *honks* dean by the fountain; when cas realises dean is attracted to him under the uniform (this used to give me tingles but re-reading it while editing ruINED it dammit); and any and all parts where donna exists. gosh i love donna. i loved writing her speech so much.

also i really enjoyed writing max & alicia. they were a challenge to write as i’d never written them before, but it was also easier than i expected. they’re such chill characters!! i adore their ‘we value your old man opinions’ relationship with dean =u=

 @selfihateyouithink​ in particular nudged to keep dean and cas perfectly in character, specifically with keeping cas accurately autistic. i thought i had everything pretty much nailed beforehand, but i love this fic a lot more post-editing.

as per usual, i’ve spent a lot of time today worrying whether people like the fic, whether i’m aiming my posts at the wrong timezone, whether kudos accurately reflect how good the fic is, why this thing currently has a 16:1 hits-to-kudos ratio rather than a happier 10:1. obsessing, basically, and not in a good way. but so far one person said this fic is now in their top 10, and one person in the comments said top 5. which is way more special a response than i expected. but as much as i adore other people telling me i did good (i’m so freaking grateful), unless i believe it myself i can’t let go of all the anxiety. i just wanted to make this post to remind myself that, yes, i do love this fic, and i will love it regardless of whether other people like it. (i want to rely less on others for my self-worth, and be realistic about what i’ve achieved. it’s not the easiest, especially when as i writer i literally need feedback to improve.)

the overarching theme in this story was about dean learning to leave his comfort zone to grow. writing this story has taught me that that’s what i need to do. i don’t know how to do it yet, but i’ll start by spilling my feelings to thousands of people!!!

i love this fic. i love that it was essentially spur-of-the-moment, but it fulfilled months of my put-off plans, finally giving that sex position a reason for being. and i love that it gave dean and cas a new way to be happy together - thus, giving two divided parts of me a way to communicate and unify.

i love that it’s made other people smile. and i love that it made me smile.

I LOVE THIS FIC!!!

k that’s all. Night Exhibition, read it on AO3~

[plasticfangth]

for the sunny ask meme: 4 7 10

4. name a song that reminds you of your favorite characterhot stuff by donna summer always reminds me of dennis like i’m positive he’s also into early 70′s disco and he should work it into his stripper routine

7. what’s something that we haven’t seen in the show yet that you’d like to see?#confirmed bi dennisbut on like, a more serious tone, it was just for mac to come out and he did and i’m glad he did. i don’t think u can really ask a lot from this show lmao seeing as how it’s designed to be stagnant

10. who’s your least favorite character?charlie........but hear me out i don’t really have any issues w/ his characterization, it’s mostly just who charlie day is As A Person that naturally spills over into the character and that makes me Not Like Him

thank you!

[guys-chill]

My Demons are PTA Moms

Hey so as you know, I love PTA mom jokes and like making names for my friends ect. Well sometimes, when shit hits the fan and there are lots of negative thoughts, so I address each thought as if it were some stuck up lady from the PTA. Here’s my “convo” that happened last night ( I was talking to my friend and basically texted her my thoughts) bc I think it’s funny. If you wanna skip the buildup and go straight to moms, skip the first bit and start where I say YOOT. Theres alot.. yall dont gotta read i know that its alot alot

TW for mentions of rape

Set the scene: My mind is wandering, open to passing thoughts

Me: I wonder why sometimes your brain thinks about nothing. Like, there are so many things to think about, yet I stare at the ceiling thinking about nothing just kind of floating in empty mind space

Me: Now im thinking about [ex bf.] and how i want to work through my [ex bf.] memories with you and [friend’s boyfriend who is also my friend] and how that’s unfair bc its like, yall dont exist to listen to my problems and im thinking i need to face them and get through that wall of pain. Like they’re motly breaking up memories atm. Im trying to avoid them because its hard

Friend: He and I are your friends and part of our job as friends is to listen

Me: :^)

Me: Ye but like no i feel so selfish when we are about me

Friend: But you shouldn’t

Me: You know that meme that’s like “I feel uncomfortable when we are about me”. Mood

Friend: No I don’t

Me: Rip. Yeet bc i wanna face them but i know it’s gonna have me breaking down and I want a hug and like yall aren’t responsible for me or like i j feel bad

Friend: It’s ok dude we’re here for you

Me: But i know i gotta face them but im putting it off rn bc i don’t wanna fall asleep breaking down but why cant i just do it like UGGGH. Like with opening up my feelings door I’ve opened up remembering that i blocked kinda or avoided ahhh lol my mind is riptastic and sad rn but my heart is only mildly and i dont wanna be sadddsdddddd and i avoid my shit. [Her bf] is right that its hard to face your shit. And I feel dumb for not. And its like just let the suffering commense, you’ll be fine later

Friend: I’m sorry

Me: Why am i so FUCKING needy. Lol sorry im like this

Friend: You’re not needy my dude!

Me: My brain is like !OOh idea! Lets want someone to love you and hug you and all this shit to be really extra even though it doesn’t even matter that much bc who gives a fuck yo people have they’re own lives but you know I think it sounds like a GREat way to make things difficult haha fuck u

Me: Lol i said i wasn’t gonna get into this but look at me goooooooooo. YEET

Friend: Oh boy you’re ok

Me: Yo its fine god im im a messsss yoot AAHH YOOT THATS SO FUNNY

Friend (Prolly like oh boyyy at this point): You’re gonna be ok I’m sorry

Me: Wanna hear my inner dialouge lol YOU KNOW WHAT IM GOOD AT MEMES YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT

Me: Ye thank you I appreciate that

Friend: If you want to share

Me: I appreciate you listening to me

Friend: Any time

Me: Why is my mind just like saying rando shit its like Haha you fucking psycho kill yourself, and its like no Pam, that’s not even what were talking about rn. Like who invited you. Yeah I know no one invited me to my own party haha funny jan. Why am I a mess. But HeY at least we’ve gotten distracted

Friend: Oh boy I’m sorry

Me: “Lol im gonna kill you” thanks maureen

Friend: Why all the suicidal thoughts

Me: Im thinking of that vine of this kid awkward dancing to like trap music and his mom walks in and you can hear her mouthing like turn it down wtf. I dont even know I dont even wanna die my mind is so unoriginal. Good to know Jan, youre worthless too

Me: Like im doing that thing where i make everything a joke to not have it hit as hard

Friend: Im sorry. You’ll be ok

Me: TW rape “Lol no he didn’t rape me in the butt you insensitive bitch (me @ Clarissa)” Haha im gonna fucking kill myself. That one was a bit more real. I suppose both but like the kill yourself bit

Friend: Oh boy

Me: I wanna die im a mess. Tw again Youre so ugly why the fuck would he even wanna rape you haha dumb bitch got raped you dummy couldn’t even get him off lol you got him off tho...SHUT UP. lol no Way hunny this is too fun you vulnerable cunt haha fucking ill whip out any insult that has to do with sexually explicit shit come at me slut

Me: Haha im sorry

Friend: Oh boy, don’t be sorry. You’re ok. What he did was on him, it had nothing to do with you it wasn’t your fault

Me: Why they gotta say rape so much like i get it gerryanna; you’re shitty at sales pitching sell me something i dont know. God i love these moods (sarcastically)

Friend: Oh boy

Me: Haha you dumb bitch like they’re not even original. Im calling the superintendent of my mind and having them all taken off the PTA board of trustees. Fuck you Helen. Not you though [Friend] your name susan helen does not apply during breakdowns

Friend: Oh boy. Is there anything i can do

Me: Im just laying here with a pained smile on my face its not even a breakdown its a roast sesh. Nah not atm besides listen and hear the dumb shit they say

Friend: Oh boy, does it help to get it out like would writing help

Me: Yeah. God you cant even type right. Yeah you’re a secretary Jan sorry I dont have a crumbling marrage and an English degree like you. Oooooh im throwing sick burns. Im not even funny im just sad. I hope you’re laughing. Genuinely I hope its a bit funny because im a piece of trash. Ok yo you didn’t need to say that last part margaree.

Friend: Omfg

Me: God hell yeah you can take me out on trash day fucking Mmm yeah you bet id like that feeling of powerlessness and suffocation of my voice please, expand uponthis trash bag fantasy joann. Ill sit on the curb and cry myself to death you right. Fuck you got me lol I guess ill just give up now. Fool im not done yet get PUNKED Pamela. Im still here to shit on your bad insults. I hate myself, yeah i hate you too Mary Sue. Go fuck yourself; I think i might give it a shot from what i’ve heard its best in the shower and i was gonna take one tomorrow...

Friend: Oh boyyyyyy

Me: Lol yall are dumb; When they try to make their voices sound like mine but you can tell the yall is just you and the’re throwing shit at you but you see it. Im great fuck you pam

Friend: Oh gee

Me: This is good, like genuinely its like a throwdown and they’re bloody on the floor (the pta council). Fuck em, yeah fuck you too janice. “I hadta do it to em”- me at my future kid asking why i did this. Yeah i beat up Suzanne but she was a bitch anyway. Ok now stop trying to get all on my side pauleenI know you’re with them. Go with the rest of em. I bought you a luxury cruise well actually yall did bc yall are selfish and feed off sadness go drink some martinis and come back but you bet ill be fucking waiting for you, yeah ik were not done donna, but ill still be there and... “I love you”- I love you too higher sweetie who sounds like [my friend’s spirit guide] no now its my higher self but also [her]? Yeet ok bye yall

Friend: Oh boy

Me: Fuck um, Patricia decided to stay behind and keep me company. Lol im a mess. How are you things have relatively chilled. And now im being told “I love you” from someone i think me a higher power that believes in me

Friend: Eh im alright. How are you

Me: Im better. Did you enjoy that little skit my ego wants to know so it can make a production and Pam can bring her friends back and then my higher self is saying just say you love me and you’re here, “and i love you”- higher bee thank you I love you too. Idek, yes I know i’m a mess pam. I know

Friend: “Higher bee” oh could you imagine if god was just a fluffy bumble bee wanting us to love ourselves. I’m sorry you’re going through this

Me: But im a mess of glitter, spilled but pretty and not going away yeah ok no pretty is not my only worthy reason for existing but thanks. Im also friendly. Awwww thatd be so sweet. Thatd BEE so sweet. She’s beautiful

Friend: Ba dum tss

Me: Its ok i find it mildly funny. “I cant drown my demons, they’re in a pta meeting atm and dont have their pool passes handy”

Friend: Lol

Me: Haha im livingg. I love you. Thank you for listening

Friend: I love you too and any time

Me: “I love you so much” thank you giant sky bee, God thank you giant sky bee godbless. Bless yourself. How are you. Im feeling loved. I faced part of the wall yoot lol

Friend: I’m glad you’re feeling loved I’m ok

Me: Like i faced something, im here and it matters. I love you. Im glad you’re ok. What have you been doing how long was that. 12:46 to 1:20. 35-40 min. Average breakdown cycle. Nice good to know. See, its all chill after 40 min

----

And thats that my guys uhh yeah i keep track of how long i break down for and it really is only about 45 minutes until your body wears itself out. I love you all