#i need more veers family content

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: um I woke up to this in my head. Sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You honk your horn as another driver slowly veers toward the line. You’re not letting them in. If they can’t weave in, then they aren’t fast enough to leave the slow lane. You sigh and gesture at them as kindly as you can in that instant. You have enough going on. 

Your phone starts to ring. Again. You tap the button on your steering wheel to answer. You would know who it is even without his custom ringtone. Your boss allows no space for breathing, even on a call. 

“How far out are you, pixie?” Lloyd asks as you growl and lean on the gas pedal. You hate driving on the highway, especially at night, and the sky is steadily dimming. 

“Close,” you assure him. “Next exit,” you flip your blinker on. 

“Thank god. You got everything?” 

Yeah, everything you forgot. You don’t give the dry retort aloud. You know better. Where your boss has no filter to be found, you find yourself often censoring yourself. As much for his ego as for others’. Arguing never gets you anywhere. 

“I believe so--” 

“You believe or you do?” He asks impatiently. 

“Mr. Hansen, I got everything on the list,” you assure him. “All with a bow on top.” 

“A life saver, pix, I swear,” he praises, but a compliment from him is rarely genuine, more transactional. You did him a favour so he’ll give you a treat. 

“Alright, I need to get over, ramp’s coming up. So--” 

“Yeah, yeah,” his ends rustles and you hear a muffled female voice, “I got shit going on too. You got the address, text me.” 

He hangs up first. You can never be the first to end the call. He has to make the decisions. You just know how to guide him to the right one. You merge into the exit lane and follow the ramp away from the whirring stream of headlight. Finally. 

You’re less than pleased to be within minutes of your destination. This isn’t how you envisioned your holiday. A last-minute itinerary change to fix yet another of Mr. Hansen’s oversights. It’s never a mistake, he’s just a man with so much going on that it slipped his radar. Another bandage for his ego. 

The slower pace feeds your agitation. At least on the highway, you felt like you were getting somewhere. The lazy roll of the cars in the town tweaks at the nape of your neck. You just want to be in one place and that won’t happen even when you get to Mr. Hansen. 

You’ll be lucky to have two hours of sleep before you have to catch your rebooked flight. Yep. You’ll play Santa and drop off your lot before hiding at the hotel long enough to dread the airport jungle. Then it’s off to your own familial obligations. Those are rarely enjoyable and being a day later than promised will hardly please your mother. 

Your phone announces your arrival at the destination. The long drive of the over-sized suburban mansion is full. You park on the street and turn on the interior light. You get out and open the back seat. The whole medley of shiny paper and quaffed bows stares back at you. 

You text Mr. Hansen and wait, huffing and puffing with impatience. Of course, you have to upheave your plans to meet his deadlines, but he’s taking his time. It’s not a surprise, not even a disappointment, you expected as much. 

“Pixieee,” Lloyd drags out the last syllable, “there you are, pretty pixie.” 

Pretty Pixie? He’s drunk or he’s going to ask for something else. You brace yourself as his shadow struts up the long driveway and passes beneath the cone cast by the tall street lights. Coloured lights glimmer over him from the eaves of the surrounding facades. 

“Mr. Hansen, wrapped, labelled, everything you requested,” you gesture to the backseat. 

“An angel. A true saviour, pixie,” he surprises you as he grabs your head, his palms pressing to your cheeks as he bends to kiss your forehead, “did I ever tell you you’re immaculate?” 

“Mr. Hansen,” you gently pull his wrists until he drops his hands. You smell the alcohol radiating off of him. 

“It’s the holiday, call me Lloyd, sweet cake,” he insists. 

“Right,” you tut and turn to drag out the largest gift bag, “here, you better just take all this, I have to check-in--” 

“About that,” he ignores the gift as you hold it out. “We’re just about to start dinner, you should pop in, have a bite.” 

“I can’t, Mr. Hansen--” 

“Of course you can,” he insists. You look up at him. His eyes gleam in the spectrum of lights shining from your car, the houses, and the tall poles. You sniff. He’s only tipsy, there’s still the hint of authoritarianism firmly implanted in his tone. “I told everyone you would.” 

“Everyone?” You echo anxiously. 

“The family,” he exclaims as if it should be obvious. 

“Okay, I can come say hello but--” you wiggle the bag at him. 

“Damn right you can,” he catches your hand and takes the bag. He drops it on the ground carelessly. 

“Mr. Hansen, that’s fragile,” you say. 

“Shhhh,” he grabs your hand and you curl and unfurl your fingers desperately, “Lloyd, remember?” He feels around in his pocket as he keeps you in his vice, “now, you just need to slip this on.” 

He struggles to line up the ring with your finger as you squirm in confusion. What is he doing? 

“Mr. Han--” 

“Lloyd,” he growls, all humour trickling away. He squeezes until you whimper. “Look, I just need you to smile and bat those long lashes of yours, alright?” 

“What’s going on?” 

“As far as anyone knows, I proposed to you on Thanksgiving,” he says. 

“Proposed?!” You nearly shriek. 

He hushes you again and finally rams the ring down to your knuckle. “Look, pixie, mommy’s being a real pain in my ass so you just need to play along.” 

“Mr.--” 

“If I have to tell you one more time--” 

“Lloyd,” you gulp, “please. I... this is... strange. What? Why? I have a flight in eight hours.” 

“Cancel it,” he sneers. “Double time and a half for holiday overtime. See the family in the New Year.” 

“What? That’s-- This is insane--” 

“This is your job, honey,” he clings to your hand. “To do what I say or you can spend your January trawling the job boards.” He squeezes until the band digs into your flesh. “Now, I know Mr. Walker thinks you’re darling and he offered you a role last year but once I tell him about your little defiance issue, I don’t think he’ll be interested--” 

“Huh?” 

“I know a lot more than you think,” he grits. “Alright? So let’s start getting this shit inside. That’ll give you a chance to get yourself together.” 

“Lloyd,” you gasp. “Why--” 

“No more fucking question. Since when did you get so uppity,” he barks. 

“Sir--” 

“Ah, none of that, either,” he lets you go and waggles his finger in your face. “Relax. Have some eggnog when we get inside and take the edge off.” 

“This can’t be happening,” you murmur. 

“It’s fucking happening, alright?” He picks up the bag off the ground. “I keep you around ‘cause you’re quick on your feet, Pix, so let’s get to it.” 

“Oh god,” you utter. 

“Keep it to yourself,” he warns. 

Your disbelief has you a bit dumb. You’re panicking. He knows you have an insurance policy with Walker and you have no doubt he’ll do all he can to spoil your future if you fuck around with his present. You’ve worked long enough for him to believe his threats, even when everything else is dubious. 

You turn and grab several gifts from the backseat. You move out of his way and he gathers some more himself. He backs up and uses his knee to close the door. He nods you toward the house. 

“Smile, act like you’re excited,” he commands. 

You pass him and stare up at the blaze of holiday lights. The lawn is decorated with a Santa and sleigh, complete with all his reindeer. You make the march up the walk and towards the glowing windows that trim the front door.  

Lloyd comes up next to you and kicks it, “open up.” 

It isn’t long before obedience appears from the other side. You do a double take at the man who answers the door. He looks a lot like Lloyd but not. He doesn’t sport the same bristly stache and his hair neatly combed, the sides unshaved but tidy. He rolls his eyes. 

“Was hoping you got lost in the snow,” the man scoffs. 

“Shut up,” Lloyd shoulders through, “always a fucking prick, Hugh.” 

The other man snarls, “don’t fucking call me that.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby boy,” Lloyd puts the gifts on the bench against the wall, under the large mirror with an elaborate frame. “Why don’t you go suck on mommy’s teat?” 

“You’re disgusting,” the other man, Hugh, hisses. 

“Speak for yourself. We’re the OnlyFans thot? She not joining us?” 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“Fuck you, fuck me, we already did this, remember?” Lloyd faces him. 

“And who’s this slut?” The man tosses you a sharp glare.  

“Woah, man, that’s my future wife,” Lloyd lies so easily it startles you. He sounds almost genuine and you’ve never heard him sound like that. “Not a slut, so keep your eyes and your hands to yourself.” 

“Huh, I didn’t believe it,” the man puts his hand on his hip as he looks you up and down, “she’s tiny.” 

You narrow your eyes, speechless as they talk about you like a new lamp. 

“Ransom,” Lloyd gestures to him derisively, “Pixie. Now you’ve met so you can skedaddle back to the liquor cabinet.” 

The man, Ransom, snickers, “good luck, sweetheart,” he scoffs. “If you need a drink, just look for me. You probably will. At least for the next forty years.” 

He struts off through the archway behind him and you look at Lloyd. He takes the armful of gifts from you and grumbles. He stops and crosses his arms.  

“Well, get your boots off. Mom will kill you if you’re tracking salt all over her freshly polished floors,” he shakes his head. “And a bit of advice, stay away from my cousin. Ransom’s a fucking pest.” 

“Right, sir.” 

He tilts his head and you show your palms, “Lloyd.” 

“Good girl,” he says and slips free of his loafers. “Now, you’re going to have to meet my parents before anyone else or I won’t hear the end of it. I’ve already got an earful. I know I shoulda booked that resort...” 

You unzip your boots and set them aside on the rack. You stand and he beckons you past the open archway and down the hallway. You take in the decor; gold on beige on ivory. It’s all very luxurious. 

He pushes through a white birch door and warmth enshrines you along with the smell of turkey. There’s a clattering beneath a shrill voice snapping out orders, “oh, not mashed, whipped!” 

A tall blonde woman crosses her arms as she hovers like a vulture over the aproned staff crowded around the large marble island. Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you after him. Your socks slip on the tile as dread coils up your limbs. 

“Mom, she’s here,” he announces as he gets close to her. 

“Ugh, about time, they already set the table and I was dreading the empty plate,” she slithers. She turns her chin down to see you, “Oh, look at her. She’s so... petite.” She levels her hand with the top of your head, “much different than I envisioned.” 

You look at Lloyd as he pushes his shoulders back. You’ve never heard anyone talk to him like that and you’ve never seen him so uptight. You turn your attention back to the woman. 

“Hello, Mrs. Hansen, it’s nice to meet you,” you offer your hand. 

She considers it then grabs it, turning the ring up. You examine the jewel as she does the same, your first glimpse at the thing. She harrumphs, “that’s the ring?” 

“Mom,” Lloyd utters. 

“Mm, very well. Dear, you may call me Gwenyth, not Mrs. Hansen,” she lets you go. “Now, dear son, out of my way. I’m trying to get dinner done.” 

Lloyd stares at her, almost expectantly, the takes your hand again and leads you away. He pulls you back through the door. You don’t dare say a word. He leads you away from the kitchen and the wall of voices buzzing from the front room. He guides you through the archway opposite and around to another door. 

He knocks and there’s a lull as you wait. He taps again. There’s coughing from the other side. “What do you want?” 

“Just me, Dad,” Lloyd answers. 

“Ugh, get in here then,” the timbre calls back. 

Lloyd twists the knob and urges you in ahead of him. The smell of cigar smoke blows in with the cold wind. A gray-haired man puffs by the window, his efforts to puff through the opening sabotaged by the wintry gusts. 

“Close the door. I don’t need the banshee sniffing me out,” he growls. 

“Sure,” Lloyd shuts the door. “Dad, uh, this is her. The woman I told you about. My fiance.” 

“Took you long enough,” the man sneers. You flinch and his grey eyes soften, “him, I mean. Forty-three years--” 

“Dad,” Lloyd rasps. 

“Well,” his father looks you over, “she’s young. Bit small...” 

You do your best not to let your annoyance show. So you’re a little shorter than average. 

“William,” he introduces himself, “and you are?” 

“Pixie,” Lloyd answers for you. 

“Didn’t ask you, boy,” William rebukes and keeps his eyes on you. “You smoke?” 

You mull his question and sigh, “never tried it but I guess it’s never too late to start.” 

William snorts, “truer words.” He puffs, “I don’t recommend it. Horrible habit.” He tamps out the stogie in a copper tray. “Well then, is the food ready, or did you just come to show me your woman?” 

Lloyd stiffens and touches your lower back, “guess I just came to do that.” He mutters, “come on, let’s go get something to drink.” He turns and opens the door. 

“Don’t let the smoke out,” William snips as you spin around. 

[babydollmarauders]

SWEETEST GIFT — LUKE HUGHES

luke hughes x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which Luke gives y/n the sweetest gift, resulting in an eventful christmas night

warnings: anxiety, NSFW CONTENT, praise, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v (protected). (5k words)

notes: merry christmas and welcome to the final day of kinkmas! i hope you’ve all enjoyed these past 12 days and that everyone has a wonderful holiday! this is the longest fic of them all because apparently i’m actually incapable of writing a short luke smut…

i’m late.

it’s arguably the most important date so far in my relationship, and i’m late.

i don’t mean to be, obviously; the last thing i wanna do is make a bad first impression on my boyfriend’s teammates, but under the circumstances, it was completely out of my control.

i told my family several times that i needed to be out the door by four o’clock, and i thought they understood that. but then christmas breakfast turned into christmas brunch and gifts were opened late and then my mother insisted i stayed until my little cousins arrived and i still had to get changed and it was a chaotic mess all the way until i got out the door.

at five o’clock.

an entire hour later than i was supposed to leave.

so now here i am, having driven barefoot to my boyfriends apartment and only just now pulling my boots on, messy bun unreasonably… messy, and his gift having fallen onto the floor of my car after some definite traffic law violations in order to arrive as quick as possible.

once my boots are zipped securely on my feet, i’m leaning almost entirely over the center console, my hand patting at the passengers side floor until i finally grasp the present; a box wrapped in shiny red paper.

i quickly stumble out of the car, slamming the door shut behind me before i take off into the apartment complex. the wait for the elevator feels infinite, and the ride up even longer, but i finally reach the apartment door.

faint music drifts through the cracked open door, the sounds of multiple men talking each other overpowering the melodies that play, and i knock lightly upon the wood. after one more knock and two minutes of nobody answering, i push the door open, peeking my head in to find nobody in the entry way.

tip-toeing in, i close the door behind me, the short heels of my boots clicking against the hardwood floor as i shrug my coat off, hanging it on the overcrowded coat rack by the door before i wander further into the apartment.

i determine the source of the voices as the kitchen, but opt to veer off and drop Luke’s present off in his bedroom before i join them, as i know we won’t be exchanging gifts until after dinner. i set the gift on his bed, leaving his bedroom door open on my way out, but rather than walking into the empty hallway, i find myself colliding with a hard chest as someone leaves the restroom.

“oh shit, sorry!” i squeak, looking up to find a confused face staring back at me.

the unfamiliar man is tall, at least a couple inches taller than my boyfriend, with blue-green eyes and brown buzzed hair. he stares down at me a frown and threaded brows.

“excuse me, are you supposed to be here?” he questions, and i nod quickly, swallowing harshly as i try to push down the anxiety of meeting this new person.

i glance down the hallway in hopes that Luke will miraculously appear, but i can still hear him laughing in the kitchen, “yes, yeah! i am!”

the man narrows his eyes at me, “yeah, ‘cause that didn’t sound suspicious.”

he stalks down the hallway quickly towards the kitchen, my shorter legs following behind him.

“guys, there’s a girl over here! never seen her before!” the man calls out, his voice carrying over the sound of all the others and gaining the guys attention.

one by one i see heads peeking out from the kitchen, making me stop in my tracks. my hands shake with anxiety as they all peer back at me, some faces looking frustrated or annoyed, until finally my boyfriend emerges from the kitchen.

a small smile is painted across his lips, but it drops as he sees my nervous body languages. picking my steps back up, i walk slowly into his arms, incredibly perceptive of the amount of eyes that watch me.

“hi, angel.” Luke’s arms enclose around my waist, pulling me tight against him as he speaks.

“hi, Lukey. sorry, i’m late.” his body shakes as he chuckles, brushing off my apologies.

“it’s okay,” he assures me as i pull away, “i see you met Bass.”

i turn, my back pressing against Luke’s chest as his arm winds around to hug around my stomach, facing his teammates, who all seem a lot less menacing now that they know i’m not a crazy fangirl who found her way in.

“Bass,” i repeat, staring at the man whom i ran into. i rack my brain for a moment, trying to remember who Luke has said this man is in the past, “ah, yes, Nathan!”

Nathan nods with a smile, “you can just call me Nate or Bass, all the guys do. sorry about scaring you, didn’t realize you were Rusty’s girl.”

i bite back a laugh at my boyfriend’s hockey nickname. i’ve heard it before, but it’ll take some getting used to.

“it’s okay.”

Luke points out each friend, introducing them one by one until i’ve met all five; Nico, Dawson, John, Timo, and Nathan.

“and then you know Jack.” Luke waves his brother off, making me chuckle.

“yeah, hi, Jack.”

Jack smiles, “hi, y/n. there’s some wine in the kitchen, if you want some.”

the guys retreat to living room after Luke promises to check on the ham in the oven, guiding me into the kitchen. grabbing a wine glass from a cupboard, he fills it with a red wine before turning and leaning against the counter, handing the glass off to me.

“you look like you could use it.” he laughs, making me slap his chest in playful annoyance.

“i could! my family is batshit crazy,” i sigh, taking a big gulp of the wine before i set the glass down on the counter, “i was supposed to be here an hour ago but apparently my mother can’t tell time and lord knows i’m not allowed to leave until she deems christmas over.”

i walk myself between his slightly spread legs, dropping my forehead on his chest as i groan, “i just need food and cuddles.”

“well, i can check one thing off that list, but i can’t promise the ham will be edible, after all, Jack made it so…”

a giggle falls from my lips as i peer up into his eyes, shrugging my shoulders, “yeah, maybe i’ll stick to the mashed potatoes.”

the rest of the evening goes about as smoothly as i figured it would; i had to end up finishing the ham because i had absolutely no faith in Jack to not overcook it, the guys playfully teased Luke and told me funny stories of things he’s done on roadies or in the locker room, and we all sat around the living room and ate christmas dinner as Jack and Dawson heavily debated what the best christmas movie is.

finally, about three hours later, the guys took off to a local bar for some drinks and darts, Luke and i staying back in order to spend some alone time together.

“c’mon, i wanna give you your gift.” Luke smiles, hand slipping into mine as we rise from the couch, walking down the hallways and into his room.

he shuts the door behind us, grabbing a small, poorly wrapped present off of his dresser before we both sit on his bed.

“okay, wait, you first.” i tell him, picking the red present up off the mattress and pushing it into his hands.

my boyfriend was a bit difficult to shop for, seeing ad when he wants something, he usually just buys it. but i figured i could never go wrong by combining something he loves with one of his favorite hobbies.

he hands me my present, but i wait to unwrap it until he wraps his, rather enjoying watching him shed the paper from the box. a smile spreads across his face as he looks up at me.

“it’s a lego model of the UMich football stadium! i figured it was something for you to do over the next couple free days, or just whenever you want, but i thought it was perfect because you love building lego sets and you love michigan and-”

my ramble is cut off gently by his lips, his hand cupping my cheek as he kisses me slowly.

“i love it,” he says as he pulls away, eyes gazing straight into mine as he smiles, “it’s extremely thoughtful. maybe you can help me build it?”

i nod, leaning in to press my lips against his once more, “if you want me to, i’ll happily do so. or i’ll just keep you company as you build it.”

“that sounds great, angel. alright, you’re turn!”

i giggle at his enthusiasm, looking down at the small gift in my hands. i slowly peel the wrapping paper off, making a mental note to teach him how to wrap in the new year, until i finally unveil a velvet jewelry box.

my eyes widen, flickering up to my boyfriend in surprise, but he just gives me a small, encouraging nod.

flipping open the top, a simple yet beautiful necklace comes into view; a dainty silver chain with a tiny, minimalistic ‘L’ in the middle.

“oh my god,” i breathe out, my hand rising to my lips in shock, “Luke, this is beautiful.”

“i thought maybe you could wear it when you come to watch me play.” his cheeks blush a rosy pink as i look back up at him, obviously a bit more self-conscious now than he was merely minutes ago.

“can you put it on me?” i ask him, and he nods, taking the box from my hands in order to pull the necklace from the velvet interior.

i twist around, holding my hair up and allowing him to gently clasp the necklace around my neck. his fingers graze the back of my neck, sending shockwaves throughout my body as he makes sure the necklace is secure before he lets go, his hands smoothing over my shoulders and down my arms when he finishes.

i turn again, facing him once more as my hand reaches up to my collarbone, my fingertips running over the cool metal as i grin.

“it’s so beautiful, Lukey. i love it.” i cup his cheeks, pulling his face forward to press an excited kiss against his lips.

i kiss him breathlessly, our lips locking as i crawl into his lap, one leg on each side of his body, “i love you.”

i tense after the three monumental words leave my mouth, a heat of the moment confession that i wasn’t sure he was ready to hear; but, i know i’ve been ready to say.

“shit, you- uh- you don’t have to say it back. please, don’t feel like you have to say it if you aren’t ready. i mean, i know i was ready, but that doesn’t mean you have to be. you can take your ti-”

for the second time tonight, my words are shortened by my boyfriend’s lips against mine, a smile fighting against his facial muscles as he kisses me.

“i love you too.” he whispers.

my heart races, beating so strongly it feels as though it’s about to escape my chest, but my body relaxes, my eyes gazing into his as i sigh.

“you do?”

he nods, hands rubbing gently up my sides in comforting movements, “i do. i love you so much.”

i’m overwhelmed with relief and joy, the corners of my lips quirking up in a wide grin; absolutely bewitched by the beautiful boy in front of me.

i’m not sure what i’ve done in life to have deserved someone as kind, humorous, and caring as Luke; someone who gets me sweet, thoughtful gifts; who does anything to ease my anxiety the moment he spots the signs; who loves me for exactly who i am, and who reminds me every day that i’m gorgeous and perfect in my own way. but, i know that i’m incredibly grateful to have him in my life, and i want to share all of life’s beautiful moments with him.

my lips descend upon his, a breathy sigh blowing from my nose as my eyes flutter closed, pulling him deeper into the kiss with my grip on the back of his neck. his hands still on my waist, fingers gripping a little tighter as i begin to rock my hips slowly against his.

he groans into my lips, hands stilling my hips as he pulls away, our faces still close enough that i can feel his breath against my lips, and i whine at the loss of the delicious feeling that had begun rolling through my body.

“you gotta stop, angel.” he gulps, voice tight and shaky, “if you don’t, i’m gonna have a… situation, and i don’t wanna make you feel like you have to do anything yet.”

my skin feels hot, uncomfortable even, and i register it quickly as want.

despite the fact that Luke and i haven’t actually done anything yet, it’s not like i’m unfamiliar with being horny, or even having had sex. i just wanted to take things slow him; wanted to take time to enjoy our relationship without the physicality that’s made my past relationships messy.

i heave in a breath, my chest brushing against his, and the feeling of my peaked nipples skimming against his hard body makes me all the more aroused.

“i’m ready, Lukey.” i tell him in a breathy whine.

his eyes flicker in size, swallowing harshly before he speaks, “are you sure?”

“yes.” i nod, placing a short kiss on his lips, “i’m ready, and now is the perfect time; the apartment is empty, it’s just us two, and i love you so much.”

“if you don’t want to, i’m not pushing! i’m okay with just watching a movie or cuddling, we don’t have to do anything.” i add.

Luke’s hand cradles my face, pulling me into another kiss, “of course, i want to. you’re the most stunning, most thoughtful and sweetest girl i’ve ever met; i’d be a damn fool not to want this.”

i bite back a giggle, blood rushing to my cheeks from his affectionate words.

“but i don’t want you to feel rushed. i’ll wait as long as you want, because i don’t want you to feel like you have to sleep with me just because i said i love you.”

“i don’t feel like that.” i shake my head, the back of my hand ghosting over his cheek, “i really want this, Luke. i mean it. i feel safe with you, i trust you.”

he smiles, a divine smile that makes my heart do flips, overwhelmed with love for the pure soul that has entangled with mine in the absolute best ways.

“you trust me?” he echoes, hands sliding down to cup my ass, making me shiver in anticipation.

“mhm.”

with my hum of a response, i’m suddenly flipped over, my back bouncing onto the mattress, my hair sprawling over the pillows as my boyfriend hovers over top of me. his hot breath fans over my neck, lips pressing against my heated skin and making me sigh in contentment.

he paves a path with his lips, soft and slow, down to the collar of my sweater, the only sound in the room being my heavy pants and his wet kisses.

“Luke.” i sigh as his hands travel up my sides, sliding underneath my top. he hums against my collarbone, his thumbs grazing over my ribs until his hands cup underneath my breasts, my sweater bunched up.

chilled air hits against my stomach, my abdomen tightening in response, and i desire nothing more than to rid the layers between us.

“take it off me, please.”

he pulls away at my plea, hands shimmying my sweater up and over my head, pulling my arms free before he flings the fabric to the floor.

his eyes rake my body in silence for several moments, and i begin to feel self-consciousness creep up on me, my arms wrapping over my stomach. but he’s not having it, fingers enclosing around my wrists and pulling them away.

“uh-uh, none of that.” he whispers breathlessly, “you’re beautiful, angel. so fucking perfect.”

my cheeks flush, confidence filling me from the inside out as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes blown out and darkened with lust.

“thank you.” he shakes his head at my response.

“don’t thank me.” he says, “if you knew the things i’m thinking of doing to you right now, you wouldn’t be thanking me.”

his words light a fire deep in my core, my panties dampening with every word that drops from his perfect lips.

“no, i think i would.” i rasp, voice low and dripping with lust, “i think i would want to thank you a million times over.”

“i need you so bad.” i confess.

my hands lock around his neck, pulling him back down to me. he kisses me in earnest, hips rolling down into mine, his quickly hardening erection pressing against my jean clad core.

i moan against him, a low guttural sound that pours out when his hands come up to massage my breasts over my padless red bra. he dips down, embedding open mouthed kisses upon my skin, leading down to my cleavage.

“can i?” he asks, fingers edging the cups of my bra, and i nod in approval.

he rolls his hips into mine again, my back arching, and he slips his hand underneath me, unhooking my bra with fumbling fingers. he pulls it off my body, once again discarding the clothing to the floor.

his thumbs circle my nipples and he watches me as my eyes fly shut, my lips parting as i let out a shaky breath in response to his actions.

“i’m the luckiest guy in the damn world.” he huffs, so quietly that i’m not sure he was even talking to me, more so whispering to himself.

“Luke, please,” i whine, “less talking, more touching.”

my words earn a melodious chuckle from his lips before he lowers his head to my chest, continuing to play with one nipple as the other gets extra attention. his tongue drags around the stiffed peak before its caught between his lips, softly sucked and grazed extra lightly by his teeth, making my body tremble.

after a few moments he switches, giving proper love to the other side. my leg hooks around his waist, hips bucking up to rub my clothes cunt against his now fully hardened erection.

my hands fist his shirt at his shoulder blades, tugging lightly.

“off,” i breathe, “i want this off. i wanna feel you.”

Luke pulls away from my breast, my nipple dropping from his mouth with a pop, and within seconds he’s leaning back, tugging the shirt over his head. suddenly it’s my turn to gape and stare.

obviously, i’ve seen him shirtless, but his body is one i’ll never tire of; the sight will forever and always make my heart beat faster, my core get wetter, and my soul sigh.

“take a picture, angel,” he winks, “it’ll last longer.”

he’s joking, but if i had my phone on me, i would.

“kiss me, please?”

i don’t have to say any more, those words enough to bring his lips back to mine, our bare chests pressing against one another. we take our time, tossing and turning in the bed, our lips rarely straying from each other’s, until i finally rid myself of my jeans, entirely too ready to move on.

“look at me,” he says, his lips dragging on my stomach as he speaks, “you trust me, yeah?”

“yes,” i nod, breath shaky, “i do.”

“i want you to relax. keep your eyes on me, angel.”

i nod again, eyes trained on his unruly mess of curls as his thumbs tuck into the waistband of my panties, his eyes lifting back to mine in await of approval. when i give him the go ahead, he’s pulling the last fabric that adorns my body down my thighs, past my calves, and throwing them onto the floor.

i lay stripped down in front of him, in a state of complete and utter vulnerability, yet too needy and love drunk to bring myself to care about the way i look.

he lays down on his stomach between my legs, making my breath hitch as his warm breath hits my wet pussy. but when i feel his tongue glide through my folds, tensing when he reaches my clit to provide pressure, that breath is released in a heavy yet quivering sigh.

my hands reach out to tangle in his curls as he slowly drags his tongue around my achingly wet cunt, flexing and flattening the oral muscle depending on where it is on my body.

“Lukey,” i pant, body shaking as his lips enclose around my puffy clit, rolling it between them lightly before letting it go.

he pulls back with a smile, juices glistening around his mouth and chin, “you think you can take my fingers, angel?”

“mhm,” i nod, “yes, please!”

he dives back in, this time picking up his pace; and not a moment later, i’m squirming, a cry of contentment echoing through the room as he pushes two fingers in, curling them up with every thrust he makes.

i’ve given up on words, relying on the sounds that fall from my lips to let him know how surreal his movements feel.

his fingers begin to scissor, adding a pleasurably painful stretch in order to help me ready for him, and at the same time, he flicks his tongue against my clit, successfully drawing my mind away from the pain and towards the immense pleasure he’s bringing me.

my stomach feels tight, pressure building with every movement of his tongue and every thrust of his fingers.

“i’m so close.” i tell him in a breathless whimper, my hips grinding down upon his face and hand.

he moans against me in response, vibrations reverberating through me, and my walls begin to tighten around his fingers, the familiar feeling of balancing on the edge of orgasm spreading through my body.

my thighs close around his head, but he just hums against me again, making my toes curl against the sheets.

“Luke, i’m gonna cum.” i warn him, voice tightly strained, my breath catching in my throat.

my body is hot and sticky, the air moist as his hand begins smoothing up and down my thigh, and i take that as the sign to let go, my legs shaking as i finally reach my release.

Luke continues to lap at my clit, while his fingers work me through my orgasm until i can’t take anymore. breath heavy and body trembling, i push his head away, his face finally emerging with wet, swollen lips and a soft smirk.

“did so good for me.” he praises, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he hovers back over me, pressing his lips against mine.

his tongue tangles with mine, tasting salty yet a little sweet, and i moan against his lips, my hands trail down his abs to hook into the waistband of his jeans.

“you gotta wait a second, angel,” he mumbles against my lips, “don’t wanna overwork you.”

i groan, turning my head, and his lips press against my neck.

“fuck that,” i tell him, fingers fumbling with the button of his pants, “i want you now.”

“if you’re sure?” i nod quickly at his words, making him sit back.

he hastily unbuckles his belt, not bothering to take it off before he’s unzipping his jeans, kicking them off and onto the floor before he rids himself of his boxers.

his cock springs free, his tip a harsh red and precum beads at the slit, glistening in the low light of the bedroom.

leaning over to his nightstand, he digs around in the drawer for a moment before his hand emerges with a shiny foil packet. he tears the packet open, pulling the condom out and carefully sliding it onto himself, and i watch with desperate eyes as he gives himself a few tugs before turning back to me.

he hovers above me, bent on one forearm as his other hand grasps his shaft. he spreads my wetness around with his tip, sliding through my folds easily, and when he taps against my clit, my whole body aches with need.

“please.” i beg, and that’s all it takes for him to line up with my entrance, his lips connecting with mine as he slowly pushes in.

i whimper against his lips, his cock stretching me with a stinging sensation with every inch that he pushes in, and he stills, opening his eyes to peer down at me.

“are you okay?” he asks softly, petting hair out of my face gently as he speaks.

“mhm,” i nod, hands grasping at his back, “keep going.”

he does as i say, this time giving shallow thrusts in order to work himself in slowly, only taking what my body allows him until he can finally sink into me entirely. by the time he’s completely in, the stinging pain has subsided, making way for blissful pleasure, but he still stops to check again.

after my reassurance, he picks up again, thrusting properly, but still slowly. his lips press back against mine, kissing me with raw passion and love.

“faster.” i whisper against his lips.

his hips speed up into fast, deep strokes, a hand snaking down to grip my waist. my moans carry through the room, conjoining with the sounds of sex and his hips slapping against mine as my leg hooks around his waist.

gripping his back, my nails scratch into his skin, earning a groaned whine from my boyfriend as his face buries into my neck, his thrusts gaining a harshness that they hadn’t held before.

“say you love me.” he gruffs against my skin, so low that i almost didn’t hear him.

“i love you,” i breathe out, “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

his lips connect with my collarbone, each kiss broken up by a single confession of love muttered from his tongue.

i can feel the knots forming in my stomach again, like a ball of yarn tangling and tangling, further tying together with each thrust of his hips. the tip of his cock smacks against my g-spot, my back arching from the mattress as i make a particularly loud cry.

“right there!” i tell him in a broken sob.

he smirks against my skin, angling his hips just right before thrusting back in to hit the spot again. now with each stroke, my orgasm builds even quicker, my nails scratching down his back.

my walls clench around him, making him grunt into my neck, and he picks his head up to kiss my lips, his thrusts becoming quicker and slowly losing rhythm.

“i’m close,” he mumbles, “so close.”

i nod in agreement, “me too.”

his hand slides between us, his thumb finding its way to my swollen clit, and he begins rubbing harsh circles into it, making my hips jolt, my breath catching i’m my throat.

“cum for me, angel,” he whispers, “let go.”

i nod, for what i’m not sure, but my body tenses up underneath him, walls tightening around his cock as he continues to thrust, and my eyes roll back, legs shaking as i come undone around him.

he fucks me through my orgasm, kissing me through my heavy breathing as his thrusts speed up, becoming sloppier and sloppier as he chases his high until he finally stills. his hips stutter as he grunts, releasing into the condom.

his body collapses on mine, the grounding weight bringing me back down to earth as we both pant in uneven breaths, our chests rising and falling rapidly.

we lay in silence for several minutes, enjoying the serenity of the quiet until he rolls off of me, slipping out from inside me.

“that was…” he trails off and i giggle, nodding my head.

“why did i wanna wait again?” he laughs at my response, shaking his head.

“i’m glad we did,” his fingers trail over my stomach, drawing shapes in my skin. “it was worth the wait, and i think knowing we love each other just made it more special.”

i hum in agreement, wrapping my hand around his before lifting it to my lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

he presses a kiss to my cheek before getting up to dispose of the condom. pulling on a pair of sweatpants, he assures me that he’ll be right back before leaving the room, reappearing a few minutes later with a granola bar and a water, along with a damp washcloth.

“head up,” he coos holding the water to my lips, and i let him help me take a few sips before he hands me the granola bar.

he cleans me up, my body shaking as he runs the cloth through my sensitive core, as i eat the snack, resting the wrapper on his nightstand.

he rifles through his dresser, coming back to the bed with a pair of of boxers and a t-shirt, and he helps me into them before climbing into the bed beside me. he pulls me back into him, his nose burying into the side of my neck as he kisses the back of it.

“i love you.” he tells me, arm winding around my stomach as he spoons me, my back to his chest.

my eyes feel as heavy as lead, but my heart races at his words, my entire world shifting into a golden state.

“i love you too.” i repeat, immediately followed by a heavy yawn.

“go to sleep, angel,” he hums and i can feel his eyelids flutter closed against my skin, “i’m right here.”

and with his reassurance and the feeling of his body pressed to mine, i allow by body to shut down, my breathing evening out as i fall asleep.

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

We've suddenly got an abundance of shows with dark themes and adult vibes, with a bit of a mixed bag on their execution. These are available for weekly streaming on Gaga unless otherwise noted.

Smells Like Green Spirit

A fan subber came through and we are now able to watch this show on a slight delay from the airing in Japan. This first episode was great, but be warned that this is not a light watch. This show is less a full blown romance and more of a queer coming of age story with a rather bleak worldview that will likely include a romance subplot. Our story centers on Mishima, a young person who is questioning their gender and just trying to live while being constantly targeted by school bullies. The bullying in this show is graphic and violent and Mishima has already been assaulted and targeted by creeps in the first episode, so take care and ask for content warnings if you need them. I have read the manga so I'm aware of what's in store--if you would like to know what to expect before watching, feel free to ask.

Happy of the End

CWs: Assault, attempted murder, blood, death, forced fellatio/rape (against a main character, graphically depicted more than once), revenge porn, sexual coercion and exploitation, stabbing, suicide attempt, suicide, violence

We have arrived at the end of this story, and it did not quite come together for me. I liked a lot of what it was doing; the relationship between Chihiro and Haoren giving them both a reason to persist despite their general apathy toward survival was compelling, and the actors gave strong performances in some very difficult scenes. I thought the show had a strong sense of style and tone, as well. But for me, it crossed the line into over the top trauma porn one too many times, seeming to revel in making the characters suffer and piling on unnecessary traumas that were depicted quite graphically, making the show deeply unpleasant to watch. And in the end, it suddenly veered into a happy ending that felt like a mismatch for the rest of the story, which was achieved via a time skip and Chihiro and Haoren healing offscreen despite their circumstances only getting worse over the course of the show. @bengiyo laid out why that ending felt like the show pulling its punches, and I agree. I can appreciate a story that has an established bleak worldview telling us about a specific time in these characters' lives where they mattered to each other, but slapping that unearned epilogue on it just makes the whole thing feel like torture porn followed by cheap consolation. It didn't feel honest. I don’t recommend watching this one unless you are pretty comfortable with gratuitous sexual violence.

Love is Like a Poison

We’re zipping along nicely, with this week’s episode mostly focused on the case that Haruto helped Shiba win. That courtroom scene was wild. I’m intrigued by all the advances and the early confession from Haruto, because as we and Shiba well know, the man is a con. What’s his angle, and why does he think romancing Shiba is the way to get it? Whatever he’s after, I think Shiba should give in because look at him!

Chaser Game W 2

This week we met Itsuki’s first love Yoreum, who is now a famous Korean idol and still hung up on her from back when she did a homestay with Itsuki’s family. She did a livestream from Itsuki’s cafe in the special spot where Itsuki and Fuyu like to canoodle; jealousy and dramatics ensued. Then suddenly we were doing an elevator rescue? Idek. I’m rooting for the new girl to break this couple up to be honest.

[thehigherseekerastro]

Hello and Happy Holidays! I was wondering do you know what Synastry aspects & overlays indicate being very attached at the hip? To the point that it might seem very odd to see one without the other?? "We're a packaged deal"// "Hey, where's your shadow?"// "You guys are just two peas in a pod"// "With us you get a two for one special" Kind of energy/vibe. Thank you for your time, and hope that there is plenty of Holiday joy and cheer for you and your loved ones!

Hiiii, love! Happy holidays! And thank you very much for the well wishes. I wish you the very same back! 🩷

I always try to be as honest as possible here with my astrology content, so I'll say that I am not sure I am the best person to answer this question, but I will try to answer you to the best of my ability.

First, I will give you some cautionary ideas, but then I'll give possible positive outcomes of the synastry you asked about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Synastry: External x Internal

The first thing to point out would be the manifestation of said synastry. What is it exactly that you want? Because it can look different from the outside than it feels like for the two people in the relationship. You could be talking about a synastry that LOOKS (external) like they're conjoined twins and happy about it, but FEELS (internal) like an obligation or suffocating for them. Or you could be talking about a synastry that is very private in display, so it seems cold or distant to the outside, but in their intimacy they're very attached.

You might even be looking at synastry that has veered into sibling-like/platonic convenience territory, and the romantic love isn't that strong there anymore, but they're still maintaining the habit of doing everything together. Perhaps a synastry that talks less of mutual adoration and more of codependency and lack of individuality.

It's important that when we look at synastry we don't romanticize the appearance of it (and that includes our idealized fantasies of what the perfect love would look like), and rathe focus on the FEELING of that synastry, because at the end of the day, it should feel good, healthy and mutually respectful, regardless of the vibe it gives off.

Synastry: Does all "good" synastry feel good?

Ever heard the phrase 'too much of a good thing is a bad thing'?

Now, here, I don't mean quantity, but rather intensity.

Having that type of synastry you talked about... are we sure it feels right for everyone? And HOW did we get to that point of being so close all the time? Was it because of a constant need for the other's company or is it possessiveness and an imbalance of power? Because synastry can describe both, and it can make one look like the other.

My point is to say that you could have no such aspect with someone and grow a very close and flowy connection, just like you can have that type of synastry and it goes overboard and turns harmful, but one would never know from looking at it superficially.

How much synastry does it take?

The answer is: more than you expect.

You see, while we'll often see analyses for individual placements online, that is done only to make it more simple to understand, but one aspect alone cannot realistically carry an entire connection. You are not gonna behave an entire way just because you have that one aspect or overlay. In real life, just like you need to look at the entire chart to describe a person, synastry aspects NEED support and combination with multiple aspects/overlays.

The reason being that the same aspect can cause different effects for different relationships. Codependency between lovers and codependency between family members are different things, for example. But they can come from having the exact same aspect/overlay.

So, like a puzzle, synastry needs multiple pieces at the same time to formulate an entire bigger picture and differentiate one thing from another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Assuming that you are talking specifically of synastry between a healthy and happy and loving couple...

It would need to be a combination of both emotional and physical synastry, so one Mars this, or one Moon that, is not gonna cut it. It needs multiple placements going in the same direction. So apply this if at least 2 or more aspects are present at the same time:

•••• •••• •••• •••• •••• •••• •••• •••• ••••

* Rising conjunct rising *

No, not rising in the other's first house. It needs to be conjunct. Sometimes, not even having the same rising sign is enough if it's not conjunct.

If you use the Placidus system and you have a Leo rising at 21° and someone else is a Virgo rising at 7°, their rising will fall inside your 1st house – that does NOT mean you have the same rising sign, nor that your risings are conjunct.

If you are a Virgo rising at 2° and someone else is a Virgo rising at 28° degrees, you do have the same rising sign, but your ascendants are NOT in conjunction.

When the risings are in conjunction that indicates a similar way of going about life, carrying oneself, behaving and expressing. It COULD go the other direction and turn into rivalry, though. If it doesn't, then the people should naturally behave very similarly, and that creates a feeling of "ease" with the other person, because you don't have to be explaining yourself, they just act like you naturally.

* A combination of Cancer + Leo + Scorpio placements between the two *

That means that the two people have placements in those three signs. They don't need to both have all 3 signs in their chart at the same time, but they do need to have at least 2, and if they have the same sign it's even stronger.

For example: If Person A is a Cancer sun, with a Leo moon. And Person B also has a Leo moon and has a bunch of Scorpio placements in their chart.

Cancer is a naturally clingy and attached sign, so Person A will naturally want to be attached at the hip with the person they love. The closer they are, the more stable, safe and secure Cancerians feel, so they need emotional and physical proximity to feel like things are under control and safe. They see emotional compatibility as a sign that things are going right and they found the right person.

Leo is a fire sign, but it's a fixed fire sign, so it's also very attached to what it knows. Being a fire sign, Leo IS guided by their desires and wants, but unlike the other two fire signs (Aries & Sagittarius), Leo is not fickle. It doesn't change plans on a whim, on an impulse. Specially in love. But it feels emotions very ardently and deeply. So Leo wants to be obsessed with their partner and it wants their partner to be obsessed back.

Scorpio is another fixed sign - like Leo -, and another water sign - like Cancer -, so combine the two and you get a Scorpio. Scorpio is deathly committed, it's obsessive in it's love and it is dead set on one target and one target only. It wants to know its people deeply, inside and out, all of them. ALL of them. Which means Scorpio doesn't ever get bored or tired of their lover. They would gladly spend 24 hours + 7 days a week + 12 months with their lover.

That means that these placements naturally have a need to be around that person constantly and they thrive on doing and wanting the same things. So this can cause the two people to do everything together all the time, to a point in which they create their own little bubble and their own world, in which others from the outside can't really get in. At times, they might even forget others are even around.

* Same moon sign *

That means what it says. They have the exact same moon sign. Their moons don't have to be necessarily conjunct, but they DO need to be in the same sign.

So if you have a Sagittarius moon at 26° and someone has a Capricorn moon at 1°, TECHNICALLY your moons are conjunct by 5 degrees. But they are not in the same sign. Your personalities are different. That connection works in a different way.

But if you have a Sagittarius moon at 12° and someone has a Sagittarius moon at 25°, they are too far apart to be conjunct, but they are still in the same sign. So you have the same emotional landscape.

When two people share a moon sign that immediately describes a sense of comfort, understanding and safety. It also sparks up a gigantic amount of excitement. Because they recognize each other, they understand each other's emotional impulses, and they don't have to explain what they feel a lot, because the other person probably already feels the exact same way, so they just "get it". They can translate what the other feels easily.

It can make the people want to be around one another all the time, because with this person it feels safe, there's no suckerpunch, no surprise, no judgement, no rejection, no ambush. Plus, they validate each other A LOT.

Physically, they will want to hang out as much as possible. Emotionally, they will just rely on each other constantly for mutual support, which can make them – again – tune out everybody else and just focus on each other.

This literally gives "they finish each other's sentences" energy. Bonus points if it's a Leo moon.

* Mars conjunct moon *

Now, again, this aspect alone will not create this. If people have Mars conjunct moon, but the rest of the synastry is a disaster, they will most definitely not go the right way with this. I am talking about a COMBINATION of HEALTHY aspects TOGETHER.

There isn't much to say about this one. It combines physical needs with emotional needs. It IS a tricky aspect, because it gives rise to violent anger, on the account that it's the planet of aggression touching the planet of emotions. So they will value the impact of the other person a lot, which means that when that person upsets them, they feel it even more dramatically than with others. But when it works well, it really works nicely.

The first and most apparent effect of this would be a need to be physically close to the other a lot. So they will often sit next to each other, talk looking at each other, walk very close to each other, touch each other a lot, even if it's light touches, and depending on their level of intimacy, do physical forms of affection, like kisses on cheeks, head, shoulders, hugs, gentle caress etc.

Emotionally, they will search for drive in each other. It's like the other person is their personal motivator. If they are in a group setting, for example, they might look at the other person for validation that what the're saying is right, or they might feel safe to share their ideals and aspirations because the other person is there to support them. It can even make a shy person start to speak up their thoughts because the other boosts their confidence and will defend them if needed.

* Mercury in the same element *

Both having a water Mercury (Cancer, Scorpio or Pisces), a fire Mercury (Aries, Leo or Sagittarius), earth Mercury (Taurus, Virgo or Capricorn) or air Mercury (Gemini, Libra or Aquarius). Mercury is the planet of communication and the mind.

When two people have compatible Mercuries, even if they are not in the same sign, but they are in the same element, that talks of an easy flow of communication between them. That means the core of how they formulate their thoughts is the same:

Water - driven by emotional intelligence.

Fire - driven by sensorial intelligence (how it feels like in their body. Does it feel exciting or annoying?).

Earth - driven by practical analysis.

Air - driven by rational, factual mental processes.

They can understand each other fairly easy, as well as explain themselves to the other. That can mean conversations can become very centered on them and others sort of fade away into the background, SPECIALLY if the other people aren't getting what they mean. Mercury is impatient, so if they are with others and the others don't get what they're saying, they could be just like "ugh! Whatever. This person gets it, so I'll just talk to them and ignore the others. If they get it, that's enough for me."

* 5th house overlays with major planets *

Major planets are: Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus and Mars. The 5H is the house of joy and excitement, the house of play, fun, romance and pleasure.

If someone's major placements touch your 5H or vice versa, it can describe a relationship in which everything with that person feels like a reward and the best times of one's life. Everything feels exciting and pleasurable.

So who wouldn't want to be around someone who's fun and makes you happy all the time? They never get bored of each other.

This one also gives "tag team" energy. They are mischievous together, and might cause trouble with the help of one another. In a good, light-hearted way. Like joining forces to prank their friends. They also go on all types of adventures together.

* Mercury in the 3rd house overlay *

The house of communication with the planet of communication. Need I say more? The Mercury needs to be in good condition, though, otherwise, it will be manipulation instead of cooperation. And, once more, other positive aspects need to also be present.

Just mental connection to a level that is almost psychic. They read each other's minds.

Internally, that can make they feel intuitively connected and understood.

Externally, they can be the pair that always knows what the other is thinking, what they're gonna say, and become the official spokesperson for the other.

They also do NOT get tired of talking to each other. Ever. They can talk forever, and they never seem to run out of conversations to have. They might even talk in a similar way, or adopt each other's mannerisms and speech patterns. They also learn words, phrases and expressions from one another. And they change the other's perspective easily.

* Pluto in the 7th house overlay *

This one can be more on the toxic side, I warn.

It creates obsession and possessiveness, as well as codependency. So it could give rise to that "shadow" effect. Always with each other, always in each other's radar, refusing to break apart. It also creates an addictive feeling.

It can also make them be secretive together, which can give even more the energy that they are each other's shadow.

•••• •••• •••• •••• •••• •••• •••• •••• ••••

That's it!

There's a few more, but I feel like for now that's been enough to read.

I hope the information is helpful to you. Let me know if you have any questions or feedback!

Thank you for the question and have a happy holiday season! ❤️🎄

[stupidvillainousposts]

Ok so ik that the asks thing was from yesterday butttttttttt....... I thought of something that i could throw at you

So imagine this

Stan wakes up in the middle of the night for some reason and like walks by the twins' room and sees one of them is missing (you pick who)so he wakes up fidds and is like "twin x is missing" so they look all over the house freaking out more and more the more places they check because "oh shit their not here" so Stan *fidds has to watch the other twin* goes to check the woods. And after 15 or so minutes of seaching later he finds twin x. just chilling with a pack of wolves

I'll let you figure out the after

*I may have veered off just a bit from the original prompt, but hopefully it still looks good. Getting back into writing after a while (haven't written anything like this since the smut fic, oof) is taking me a bit longer than expected to get used to. >_>

In the Dark of Night

Silence; it was a rarity in the Pines household, overtaken by the near constant prattling of pups or playful banter amongst Stan and Fidds. It had become the norm for someone to be talking at almost any point in time, an unease would settle over the family that lasted until someone chose to break the ice. The noise and its intensity depended greatly on who it came from; Stan was a loud man, more than willing to ramble about whatever got his mouth running and body moving - it came in handy more often than not, especially when he needed to weasel his way out of an uncomfortable situation. Fidds was more reserved, liked to observe before speaking; with narrowed eyes and intense focus, the southern man could pick apart near anyone after just two minutes. The pups took after Stan clear as day, able to go on and on without stopping unless someone told them to. Their styles, however, varied; Dipper could only rant and cajole if Stan or Fidds was nearby, whereas Mabel could talk regardless of the couple’s whereabouts.

So, to put things simply: Silence didn’t come often, and even when it did someone would always be able to fill it.

At least, that’s how it would normally be, how it should have been. The only difference right now was that it was one in the morning, and no one was awake to do so.

Except, that’s where things started to veer off track.

Nights in the shack were never, absolutely never silent, something was always serving as background noise; a creaky pipe, howling wind, the building groaning and creaking as it settled, typical things that occurred during winter in the woods. Cheeky birds may occasionally chirp as they start waking up or preparing to sing their morning songs, the goat that lived on the property would let out an occasional bray of content, and it would all be tied together by the obnoxiously (and surprisingly) loud snoring that came from Dipper’s tiny body.

Wait.

Stan shot up in an instant, ears standing straight on his head as he honed in all attention to the twins’ room. Despite the wood separating them from an entire floor, Stan was usually able to hear even the tiniest sound from the attic, able to tell when the pups were awake or asleep, when they were sleeping peacefully or having a nightmare, hell, he was even able to catch the beginnings of Mabel’s sleep whispering!

Despite all of that, however, the one thing he couldn’t hear tonight was Dipper. The kid wasn’t a quiet sleeper, always shifting around and whining, trying to keep his face on the cold side of the pillow, occasionally waking himself up by accident when his feet bunny-kicked his own face, the works. Perhaps the silence was a blessing in disguise, but Stan- despite being a gambling man -couldn’t find it in himself to take that chance. He climbed out of bed, slowly so as to not alert Fidds, and started the trip to the attic. Both Stan’s ears and sensitive nose worked double-time with every step, his heart threatening to stop upon his realization that Dipper’s scent was near nonexistent as well.

“C’mon, kid, this ain’t funny.” Stan muttered, gently knocking to announce his presence before slowly opening the attic door and peeking his head in. First glance didn’t show anything out of the ordinary, Mabel was fast asleep in her bed, breathing calmly and snuggling her unicorn toy close. The sight made Stan’s pulse slow down just a bit, and he couldn’t stop the fond smile that wrestled its way onto his face.

One glance at Dipper’s bed snatched the smile away in an instant.

The covers were thrown all over the place, Dipper’s pillow was shredded as if he’d been using it as a shield against some rabid beast, and echoes of claw marks ran along the wall in such a way that made Stan’s stomach twist and flip like an anxious acrobat. A quick apology to Mabel was followed by Stan sneaking into the room and switching on the lamp to get a closer look at the scene, and while Stan acknowledged Mabel’s whine of frustration with an ear twitch, he did little else to turn his focus away from the bed.

“Papa Stan?” Mabel yawned, a squeaky sound exiting her mouth as she exhaled and snapped her mouth shut. “What… Why are you up here so late?”

Stan didn’t answer, was truthfully unable to, now that he’d fallen straight into tunnel-vision. Scenario after scenario after scenario ran through the werewolf’s brain, each worse than the last and leading to horrifying results. What If after What If popped into the open like possessive imps, destroying what semblance of calm Stan had left in his body, though he was unaware of this until he felt a cold hand land on his shoulder. A loud snarl left Stan’s mouth as he turned swiftly, slamming his teeth against stagnant air that replaced what would have been Fiddleford’s hand.

Perhaps Fidds had a point when he commented on his newfound speed coming in handy.

“Stanley! What in heaven’s name is goin’ on with you?! Ya coulda snapped my hand clean off had I been human!” Fidds scolded, less afraid for his own safety and more concerned about his lover’s dilated pupils and wheezing breaths. “Stanley… Stanley, can ya hear me?”

Behind Fidds, Mabel whimpered, hugging the vampire’s leg as she waited for something to happen. It seemed that that one noise was enough to draw Stan out of his fear induced haze, his breaths slowed substantially and his snarling lessened, though it was clear that something had upset him.

“Darlin’, what’s wrong?” Fidds asked, placing a hand on Stan’s cheek and relaxing as Stan leaned into the touch. “C’mon, we talked about this.”

A nod, quick yet hesitant, was followed by a nervous sigh. “It’s Dipper.”

“What? What about- OH DEAR GOD!” Fidds instantly left his place, accidentally dragging Mabel with him- though she didn’t seem too upset about that, if her laughter was anything to go by -as he raced forward to look at the aggressive display. “WHERE IS MY BABY?!”

“Okay, first of all: Ow. Ears.” Stan grumbled, swiveling said appendages back as he received an apologetic expression in response. “Secondly: If I knew, I would have found him by now. These two may be good at hiding for a few minutes, but this nose can track anything down if I have something to go by.”

The last thing anyone expected was for Fidds to shove Dipper’s blanket into Stan’s face, frantically begging him to try and find any sort of trail. Regardless, Stan studied the blanket’s scent and let it guide him. From the bed to the wall, the floor to the door, and even past that. A confused grunt came from Stan as he left the room, tail moving back and forth in both interest and concern. His face nearly touched the floor as clawed hands and feet strode forward, almost of their own accord.

“Well? Whaddya got?” Fidds asked, wringing his hands in the way he did only when things became too stressful for him to handle. “Anyplace in particular stand out?”

“No.” Stan dejectedly replied, grunting and nearly cursing as he reached the living room, where too many scents lingered for him to be able to catch anything extraordinary. “It’s like he just… disappeared.”

“Or jumped out a window.” Mabel chirped, pointing to an open window that had started a draft in the room. She tilted her head slightly, sniffing the air and wagging her tail as she instantly recognized her brother in the air. “Yep!”

“Yes! Good job, sweetie!” Stan exclaimed, leaping up and ruffling Mabel’s hair. He instructed Fidds to stay and keep Mabel safe, pressing a gentle kiss to the vampire’s lips in an attempt to soothe them both before turning and making his way outside.

The sounds of the early morning seemed to come to a standstill the moment Stan stepped outside, and while it pulled a violent shudder down his spine, he continued on. Nose high in the sky and ears moving this way and that; perhaps he would be able to hear Dipper before anything else? The pup was quiet, shy, anything you’d want to label as the opposite of Mabel, but he knew when he needed to use his voice. For now, Stan couldn’t catch any sign of his son nephew, and that terrified him.

“Dipper! Dipper, where are you?!” Stan looked around frantically, moving farther and farther into the forest and eventually finding himself surrounded by nothing but trees. Each one looked the same, especially in the darkness, and while Stan most certainly could have found his way home eventually on any other day, his stress and terror were making his senses go haywire. “DIPPER!”

The pup’s name echoed for ten agonizing seconds, reverberating through the trees and mocking Stan the longer it carried. What if Stan never found Dipper? What if he never found the shack? What would become of Fidds and Mabel if Stan wasn’t able to pull himself together and do something right for once?! Why was everything so-

“Papa Stan!”

It was quiet, it was quick, but boy oh boy was it there. Confirmation that Dipper was out here, was safe, was alive.

“DIPPER! KEEP TALKING!” Stan screamed, racing towards the small voice and caring not as tears started to stream down his face the closer he got. Frantic panting turned into nervous barking, which then turned to excited whining as Stan nearly tripped over Dipper upon reaching him. “Kid! Oh, thank goodness you’re okay!”

Dipper giggled and let himself be lifted into a tight hug, grateful that being part wolf made him just this side of strong enough to bear the pressure. He let Stan hold him as long as needed, yipping and nuzzling against Stan as the grip tightened.

“Okay… okay, sappy stuff’s outta the way. Are ya hurt? If so, where? Anything feel weird inside? Any loss of feeling or smell or taste or-”

“Papa Stan, stop! You sound like Papa Fidds!” Dipper laughed, patting Stan’s face and snickering at the snort his action received in response. “I’m okay! My knee hurts a bit, but other than that I’m fine!”

Stan, ignoring the comment about sounding like Fidds, moved to cradle Dipper, breath hitching at the blood that was pouring down the pup’s leg. “Shit, kid. When did this happen?”

“I think when I fell out the window.” Dipper hummed, his body going lax as the adrenaline that had been driving him started to fade away. “I had a bad dream, and I was trying to find you, but I fell out the window and then had to run away from the monster chasing me. But it’s okay because my new friends protected me!”

It took a moment for Stan to properly process what Dipper had just said, the pups had experienced nightmares before, some worse than others, but none bad enough to send them racing into the woods of all places. Had Dipper seen something after waking up that scared him? Had he been sleepwalking at some point?

Oh, god; had Dipper had a dream about… him?

Stan grumbled at that thought, almost too caught up in the nerve-wracking possibility until he processed the second portion of Dipper’s crazy night. “What new friends?”

Dipper wiggled in sudden excitement, letting out sharp, high-pitched yips that created a frantic rustling in the nearby shrubbery. Stan growled at the noise, stopping only when Dipper explained that it was just his friends, that they were shy like him and were just trying to make sure Stan wasn’t a threat.

Well, isn’t that just dandy?

“Alright, fine. Show your faces, but no sudden movements!” Stan snapped, waiting impatiently for the first ‘friend’ to show their face.

Their first, fluffy, wolf-shaped face.

What in the absolute hell.

“Wolves. Ya made friends with wolves.” Stan deadpanned, looking down at the wolves and avoiding direct eye contact. The last thing he needed was one of them to attack due to unintentional disrespect. “Not the weirdest thing I’ve witnessed.”

“Yup! That’s Dandry! She’s the mama wolf! Her husband is right there, that’s Amarok! They’ve got three pups; Asena, Fenrir, and Morrighan!”

“That is a… violent mixture of mythology.” Stan murmured, scrunching his nose and trying not to come off as defensive. “But even if they were harmless wolves, that doesn’t excuse you running off like you did!”

“Would it help if I said the pack helped keep me from getting too lost?” Dipper asked, moving his head in the perfect way to make his eyes sparkle.

“Ugh, darn those eyes.” Stan turned his face and placed his free hand onto Dipper’s eyes, smiling at the laugh the action earned him. A soft sigh was followed by Stan looking at Dandry and Amarok, sharing a silent conversation with them before nodding.

He could have sworn that Dandry nodded back, but maybe that was a trick of the light.

And, speaking of light…

“Fidds is gonna kill the both of us. Me for bein’ out so long and you for running off. Better hope he falls for the eyes.” Stan teased, bidding the wolves a soft sound of thanks before the two groups went their separate ways. He knew that Fidds was likely going to shout empty threats of grounding for about a minute before caving and dragging Dipper into his own sob drenched hug. Still, it helped to imagine Fidds at home fuming and looking like an overgrown elf who lost his bag of tricks rather than a nervous vampire who was just barely holding onto his sanity for Mabel’s sake. “And, about that bad dream-”

Stan was cut off by a loud snore, signifying that Dipper had fallen asleep, likely due to the sudden drop in adrenaline. The rest of them would soon follow suit the moment all was said and done, but Stan soon decided that it would be best to live in the moment instead of trying to focus on an uncontrollable future.

Especially when that uncontrollable future involved him walking faster the moment he swore he saw a single eye watching him from the remaining shadows, threatening to swallow him up and leave nothing behind but a broken husk of a man.

[spot-the-antisemitism]

Link: https://www.tumblr.com/cookiemmilk/769602273303265280/im-black-and-i-think-zionism-is-just-neo-nazism

I didn’t go looking for this, I wasn’t purveying tags or anything. Just scrolling through my dashboard on Tumblr, and bam! Here’s a zero note post comparing Zionism to Neo-Nazism. Which, even if someone full heartedly believed Zionism is racism and all that…that still wouldn’t make it neo-Nazism. Sorry, actually they said “Zionism is Neo-Nazism but for Jewish people” (the sentence is so stupid). The bullshit never makes sense even if you apply their own logic (which, I suppose is a feature not a bug). This incessant need to compare Israel to Nazi Germany is straight up antisemitic, it’s “the Jews are just as bad as the Nazis now” which proves they have a concerning lack of knowledge regarding the Holocaust because no, there’s no similarities between the Third Reich and Modern-day Israel. The situations are entirely different, but of course they (idiots, antisemitic idiots, and those using the Holocaust as some kind of gotcha against Israelis and Jewish people) don’t really care about that do they?

Disclaimer: Islamophobia is bad, undeniable so and if/when it shows up in UK media it ought to be denounced (I don’t really read UK news so not entirely familiar with the typical racist rhetoric that is used over there). But to say, “why doesn’t the world care about Palestine?” Is just a baffling question. The world does care (arguably), I mean why else are charities giving out aid and distributing food over there? Why is Anera and the WCF over there if the world doesn’t care? I mean, didn’t countries start declaring Palestine a state recently as well? I mean, the countless protests in Israel against their own government, grassroots organizations and interfaith organizations all trying for peace in the region, etc etc. the protests here as well (even though I feel the U.S. protests tend to be mostly for-show, not actually effective, and concerningly antisemitic).

You could say “I feel like people don’t care enough” or “people might care but there’s no action being done to help Palestine” or “there isn’t enough being done to help Palestine / Palestinians”. One could argue that various governments could be doing more, that Israel could be doing more, and so on! Whether their arguments stand up or not is another matter, but that would be an understandable statement to make! Why the fuck is so hard for people to make valid criticisms of a country and its military operations without veering straight into conspiracy theories and antisemitism and Nazi comparisons?

Just realized, I think OP is using the revised Wikipedia version of the definition of Zionism, which you covered sometime ago. The section of “Hitler’s goals” explicitly says European Jews, which I don’t disagree with necessarily BUT that feels like it misses the whole fact that there were also camps in North African countries like Tunisia, Algeria, Morocco and so on?

Like just a quick search gives multiple sources on North Africa during WW2. Those are the quick sources I used for reference (I know you know all that, I’m just saying where I got my stuff from).

https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/gallery/camps-in-north-africa

https://theconversation.com/north-africans-experiences-of-world-war-ii-often-go-unheard-194326

https://www.yadvashem.org/holocaust/about/outbreak-of-ww2-anti-jewish-policy/north-africa-and-middle-east.html#narrative_info

I have no fucking clue what “too many black people go all Zionism” means. Can’t tell if they’re complaining about people voting blue but supporting Israel? Is that a weird pro-Trump dig or “both sides are bad”? It doesn’t really matter I suppose, nitpicking one tiny detail of a shitty post.

What the actual fuck does “at least they know not to use their families death for their own gain like Zionists do” mean? How fucking…I don’t even…is this meant to be a “look Zionists (bad Jews) are using the Holocaust as an excuse to oppress Palestinians”? What a vile thing to say.

A cursory glance at their blog reveals the usual “Jews are Nazis, Zionists are Nazis” shit and “The Oscars / Academy Awards show is a conspiracy, Israel is using it as cover” shit.

if I’ve misspoken or said anything out of turn, please let me know (I mean this all in good faith). I don’t want to seem too charitable towards someone being antisemitic, I’m just trying to understand their (irrational) logic, nor do I want to dismiss Palestinian suffering either while mentioning I/P.

Oh man either Nation of Islam takes another black person into hating Jews instead of white supremacy

or they're a russian bot who all claim to be black women (and the OTHER reason tumblr bans black women so much) but their unnatural speech pattern and their innefective tagging screams bot

thanks for the investigation!

[siryouarebeingmocked]

i gotta say i agree that exposing children to algorithmic content feeds is going to make them grow up with one billion new kinds of mental illnesses and it's a serious societal problem that urgently needs addressing but it makes me v. v. v. uneasy when i see posts going around that identify this issue and come to the conclusion 'this is why it's important for parents to know what their kid is doing online' and uh girls there are a lot of kids out there who would be dead if their parents knew what they were doing online

"yeah this aspect of capitalism is extremely alienating and traumatizing" and im nodding and smiling and then they add "which is why we must retreat to the safety of the family" and i start abruptly high-pitched screaming like a fire alarm

It's really amazing how txttletale almost comes to the right conclusion, and then veers off at the last second.

And is basically asking for validation about their irrational, highly emotional knee-jerk reaction. 

Also, how exactly can one tell that a lot of kids would be dead if their parents knew what they were doing? Hypotheticals aren't proof. 

Even if I assume this is hyperbole, maybe the kid is doing something that's actually harmful, and parents need to keep them from doing that. That;s literally the job.

Why are you just completely ignoring that idea? How can you go "social media is harmful for kids" and then immediately go "parents should have no control over their kids online lives"? 

>capitalism Oh, yeah, clearly it's the algo and capitalism that are the problem, not what people are actually doing with social media. Individuals bear no responsibility at all. 

Couldn't possibly be TX trying to WD-40 a square peg into a round hole. 

Also, notice the lack of any specific measures, just vague "this needs to be addressed". Given her prior leftist leanings, five bucks says most of her ideal solutions involve government regulations. 

You know, the ones that often come from people who are even more out of touch with the internet than your average modern parent. 

Also, it's kind of hilarious that someone who blocks over the slightest disagreement and unironically spouts the "Tolkein's orcs are racist" argument thinks they're opposed to bigotry and know how to deal with massive Internet problems. 

We know that both traditional and social media work closely with the government to shape public opinion, so blaming the harm of social media entirely on capitalism is stupid. 

PPS: , this is coming from someone whose claim to e-fame is being a smug, toxic, insular jerk even by the standards of this infamously toxic social media site. No wonder she wants to blame the algo and capitalism. 

[hailuchiha]

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

!! MINORS DNI !!

!! 18 + NSFW CONTENT!!

!! ALL characters involved are ADULTS ; NO minor characters!!

Summary: In a public confrontation with his little sister, sparked by his fiance Izumi, Itachi slaps his little sister. Heartbroken and feeling betrayed, she gets upset and leaves, refusing to talk to him. When Itachi goes to apologize, things don't go as planned, as neither sibling is on the same page, and each wants to be heard. Egged on by his sister's harsh words and acts of retaliation, Itachi gives in to his rage and attacks her once more, crossing a line that there's no going back from.

incest; slight domestic/physical abuse; spit; slapping; non con; cnc; betrayal; anger; frustration; sibling incest; family drama; power imbalance; some verbal abuse; forced bj; choking;

Well... this certainly got out of hand. Again. I should really work on keeping my content concise T_T

Word count: 3.5+k

Familial Rift

He slapped her.

She could still hear the sound- like a whip cracking. Her face still stung, and if she touched it, she could feel heat radiating off of what she knew was his handprint on her face.

The young woman sat straight-backed on her bed, feet still firmly planted on the floor, staring blankly at the wall, refusing to cry.

Well, she was crying, since tears streamed continuously down her face, but the young Uchiha was determined to not make a sound.

There was a quiet knock on her door.

"Sweetie. Are you alright?"

The Uchiha wanted to scoff. She knew her mother meant well, but she was angry at the older woman too.

Their mother hadn't done anything when Itachi had backhanded her across the face. She'd just stood as till as the other bystanders, not moving a muscle till her daughter had calmly walked out of the hall.

Of course, the party didn't continue. At least, not for long. Sasuke had followed her shortly, walking behind her silently, happy to shadow her until she started to veer too far off. Then, her younger brother, who'd grown a whole head taller than her now and wasn't so little anymore, had taken her hand none-too-gently and led her back towards their parked car.

Upon reaching the car, they were quickly bundled in since Mikoto and Itachi were waiting for them.

"Get in. You're all going home first. As the host, your father and I will see to whatever needs to be done and return," was all Mikoto said before rushing back to the venue.

Nobody spoke on the drive back home, and it had made the young woman feel a tad bit better to see her baby brother glaring daggers at Itachi from his spot beside her in the backseat.

She shook her head to get rid of the ugly, fresh memories seered into her mind.

"Go away, mother," she responded, only raising her voice loud enough to be heard through the door.

She ignored whatever else her mother said. From what she could see from the movement under the door, the young woman knew her mother remained outside her door for a few more minutes before eventually leaving.

It felt like days later, but what couldn't have been more than an hour or so, when she was startled awake by knocking at her door. In the haze of sleep, she moved on auto pilot, crawling out of bed to open the door.

Only, the moment the door opened and she met her brother's dark gaze, all the memories of the night came rushing back. And with them, the anger, the rage, the betrayal. Gritting her teeth, she didn't let Itachi so much as get a word out before she slammed her door shut again.

Or, she tried to.

He'd been quick to react, his reflexes much sharper than hers. His foot was wedged in her doorway, refusing to allow her to shut him out again.

"Fuck off!" she yelled, voice wobbly with rising irritation and a panic she couldn't place.

"Just listen to me," he said, voice low in contrast to her high pitch.

Even as she shook her head violently, Itachi pushed his way in, shoving her back enough to breach her sanctuary before closing the door shut behind him.

The lock clicking into place had the young woman backing away slowly, eyes warily watching him close the distance between them.

He had the audacity to look hurt and confused at her reaction.

"Why are you being like this?" he said finally, his voice quiet.

No response.

She didn't even want to look at him.

"For fuck's sake," he sighed, as if he were dealing with a disobedient child. "It was an accident, alright? I didn't mean to."

The young woman didn't even deign to scoff in response. She kept her gaze fixed on the wall behind him, just past his shoulder.

"Will you say something?" he finally demanded, his tone no longer passive.

"You wanna hear something?" she finally snapped, chest heaving from the strain of keeping a lid on her emotions. She didn't want to expose herself that way to him- to let him know he could have such an effect on her. "You are nothing but a goddamn brute, and I want nothing to do with you," her voice was strained, venom dripping from her words. She knew it must hurt him- good! She wanted it to hurt.

Despite her fake bravado, she took another step back when Itachi stepped towards her, a dangerous look in his eyes.

"W-What? You're gonna hit me again? Because you're so powerful and untouchable?" she said, standing her ground despite the tremours wracking her body.

Itachi didn't say anything. She flinched when he raised a hand, her eyes clenching shut, bracing for the pain.

But it never came. Nothing happened.

Her eyes snapped open when her face was gently cradled.

She winced when a calloused thumb stroked her bruised cheek.

"It must have hurt so much," he said eventually, eyebrows twisted in concern. "Forgive me, little sister. I really got out of hand."

Pathetically, she wanted to give in right there. She wanted to let go of the rage she was holding on to, and to throw her arms around him and weep into her older brother's chest like she used to.

But she could not do that. She was no longer a little girl; and he was no longer her protector. In fact, he'd laid hands on her in front of the whole clan- humiliated her without a second thought.

Taking in a shaky breath, she shoved his hand away, giving him a look of disgust.

"That's gotta be the understatement of the fucking year. And a shitty apology to boot," her voice was flat with considerable efforts to keep her emotions in check.

He opened his mouth to respond, barely uttering a syllable of her name when she held up her hand, glaring at him coldly.

"No, Itachi! I've had enough. You... You humiliated me, abused me, in front of everyone, for that brainless whore without even bothering to talk to me," she saw his eye twitch when she addressed Izumi as such, but she couldn't care less. This was the first time she had used such vile and harsh words for her brother's fiance, whom she had always treated with respect and tried to be friendly with. Well, no more of that, she thought bitterly to herself, now that Izumi had shown her true colours. "Since you so happily humiliated me in public, I'll only accept your apology if you make just as big of a gesture in public."

She didn't see Itachi's balled fists as he shook with barely concealed rage. What she said may have very well been true, but he was not listening past the abusive language she'd used against his fiance. He may or may not love the woman, but she was to be his wife, and the future co-leader of the clan. He could not have his sister getting used to talking about her that way.

In the blink of an eye, his hand was wrapped around her slender throat, grip vicelike as he choked her into silence, the only sound being her laboured gasps as she attempted to breathe past his hold. Her hands gripped his wrist, trying to pull it off her throat, but Itachi was bigger in stature and muscle and remained quite unaffected by her attempts.

"It seems I came too soon to apologize, little sister," he leaned in, tilting his head to breathe against her ear. "In fact, perhaps even apologizing was a mistake. A whore like you shouldn't be put on a pedestal."

He took no pleasure as he saw her eyes widen in shock at his words, tears immediately springing to her pretty doe eyes. His grip tightened reflexively when she swallowed, his gaze drawn to her heaving breasts as they brushed against his forearm.

After a moment of intense eye lock, he unhanded her none too gently, her head snapping back from the motion. With herculean effort, he turned his back and walked stiffly to the door, not wanting to stay and do something irreversible.

It was a small thing that broke his last holds on his sanity.

A shoe.

Thrown at him in hurtful retaliation. Colliding solidly between his shoulder blades.

It didn't even hurt, really. But it was the principle of things.

It hurt his pride, stoking the poisonous flames.

Within a moment, he was upon her, invading her space. A loud slap rung out through her bedroom, too sudden for her to even react with a gasp. Her wide eyes stared up at him, mouth agape as his palm-print started blooming on her other cheek already.

Idly, Itachi thought the look suited her. That he should keep her marked with his handprints.

"What the-" was all she managed to get out as he forced her to kneel with a painful grip on her beautiful, dark tresses.

One hand clenched in her hair keeping her in place, Itachi quickly freed his cock, which had come to attention sometime during his visit to her room, and shoved his angry, fat cock into her mouth just as she opened it in protest.

His gaze was cold as he looked down at her choking on his cock as he held her in place, his grip in her hair not allowing her to pull off.

Her hands clawed desperately at his hips, tapping, hitting, whatever she could think of to get him to let up.

But Itachi had a lesson to teach his beloved sister.

"Mhm," he protested, almost mildly in comparison to his initial rage, and used his vicious grip to shake her head in warning. "Since you like using this dirty little mouth so much, you'd better learn to put it to good use. Whether you like it or not, you have a lesson to learn, and I have all night to teach you."

The shock from his words made her mouth go slack, only the tiniest bit, and Itachi hummed in approval, pulling out minimally before sliding his cock back in, pushing in deeper. He knew he was girthy, but right now, he was in no mood to baby his sister.

The subtle, wet sounds coming from her throat were going straight to his groin. The fact that she was clearly inexperienced didn't deter him. Her throat kept constricting, trying to evade the penetration that he had no plans on taking away; more and more spit collected in her throat and mouth, making his passage more pleasurable for him, and the sounds that much more palpable.

Itachi wasn't in any hurry. Once he knew he had her in place, Itachi rewarded her by patting her head gently, only to then use his grip to pull her up and down on his cock. He bit back a groan at the sight of her puffy lips stretched painfully wide around his sex as tears streaked down her face from the repeated breach of her oesophagus.

"I'm surprised this is the best you've got, baby sister... Are you sure you're not holding out on me?" he couldn't help but mock, groaning in pleasure at the resulting reverberations along his fat cock when she made unintelligible protests.

"Alright, alright," he huffed patronizingly, fucking into her sweet little mouth a couple more times before yanking her face against his pelvis just as he slammed in.

He could feel her throat spasm in panic, her nails digging into the meat of his calves where she gripped him in desperation. But Itachi didn't want to let go. Not yet. He liked seeing her gorgeous face pressed into his pubes, her teary, panicked eyes looking up at him in a silent plea for mercy.

And mercy he did take, his heart always having been soft for his sweet sister.

He pulled out just as suddenly as he'd invaded her mouth, his big, fat dick now glistening and dripping with her saliva.

With a satisfied hum, he yanked her up. She swayed slightly, still struggling to catch her breath, lips swollen and slick with spit.

"How pretty," Itachi hummed, using his thumb to wipe some of the drool from the corner of her mouth. "This look suits you."

While she didn't respond, this time, Itachi knew it was more because of physically being unable to rather than doing it as a sign of disrespect.

Still, he wasn't done with his sweet girl.

She was still in the pretty peach dress she'd worn to the party- the only Uchiha to opt for such light colours. She'd been so happy to get dressed for today too, only for things to go south...

His hand went behind her to pull her flush against him using the grip on her tiny waist. She collided with him with a muffled huff, and Itachi stroked small circles into her back.

"Got nothing to say?" he said softly against the top of her head, before placing a little kiss there. "We're not done here, you know."

An amused smile pulled at his lips when she stiffened in his arms.

His sweet, silly little sister. Did she really think he was done with her?

With one hand, he held the bottom of her lovely dress up and our of the way as he pushed her back, arranging her on her back on the plush mattress.

"I-Itachi please," she said, her voice only a whisper now, throat too scratchy from being fucked so thoroughky for her to manage anything else.

"Shhh. Let big brother make it up to you," he said none too gently, leaving no room for argument.

While he was glad she wasn't loud anyway, Itachi suddenly found a newfound appreciation for the location of his and her rooms being at this end of the mansion, away from Sasuke and their parent's rooms.

Uncaring of her halfhearted plea, Itachi ripped off her sheer leggings, tossing them aside, before moving on to her panties. His eyes widened when he pulled them off, eyes zoning in on the thick, creamy wetness pooling in her dark frilly panties, thin liquidy strands stretching to connect back to the pretty petals of her cunt.

"Fuck," Itachi hissed, shoving her thighs wide open to watch her cunt being spread before his eyes. "Fuck... You little whore, you really did like me using your mouth like that."

"A-Aniki don't call me that," her voice was small and muffled from behind her hands.

Itachi gave in and pressed his lips to her wet cunt, licking into it with the hunger of a man starved. Her thighs clenched around his head, her long mewl like music to his ears. But he was having none of that.

With one hand, he bunched up her dress, making sure it stayed up her waist, he shoved her thighs open with his other hand, slapping the soft flesh for good measure.

"Don't close them," he commanded, voice low from strain.

Then, he was dipping his head again, practically moaning against her velvety lips, his longue laving into her slick, warm cavern as he tasted her, trying to bury deeper and deeper. He pulled back after getting her properly wet and the slick slurping sounds filled the room.

With a heated gaze, he watched her flushed cheeks, where with one hand she muffled her needy sounds while with the other she clenched and pulled at her hair.

Fuck, he thought, the sight making his cock throb as he idly palmed her pussy. Did he ruin her enough that she needed her hair pulled now?

Almost thoughtlessly, he raised his hand, before bringing it down with a resounding wet slap against her pussy. The impact made her yelp, her hips raising from the mattress, and Itachi hummed in appreciation.

Unable to wait more, he lined up his cock against her sopping entrance before pushing the fat, angry head in. Their groans mingled as his sheer girth stretched her tight walls almost painfully despite the sopping wetness easing the way.

He smirked as her legs dropped open wider, her hips raised almost needily, and she still refused to meet his gaze.

Using a few shallow thrusts to gauge the amount of force needed, Itachi finally slammed in, groaning as his heavy balls slapped against her ass on impact. His hand gripped the flesh of her thigh painfully at the sight of her mouth falling open in a silent scream as her voice caught in her throat.

"Not feeling so bitchy now, are you, sweet sister," he huffed, hands twitching against her skin. But she probably was too far gone to hear the need in his voice.

Adjusting their position so he was kneeling between her legs, his knees propping her thigs wide open, Itachi draped himself over her, caging her body under his by placing his hands on either sides of her head.

He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers as he started thrusting, setting a hard pace from the get go, watching her face scrunch up, her lip bitten raw as she tried to muffle her mewls.

This won't do.

Ever the caring brother, he slapped her across the face, lightly, only to swoop in and capture her sweet lips the moment she released her bottom lip. He licked into her mouth, moaning at the taste, his movements getting harder as she overwhelmed his senses.

He pulled back, breaking the kiss with a wet sound, and smirked down at her blown out pupils and slack mouth.

Mine, his brain ordained, and Itachi didn't even want to fight it.

With a gentle grip, he tilted her face just so, before spitting into her mouth.

There was a flash of something in her eyes- recognition, or awareness- but she met his gaze, blinking once, before swallowing. As if that wasn't enough to drive all his blood south, his sweet little sister then opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out for more.

And fuck if he wasn't a goner.

"Fucking filthy," he muttered breathlessly, fucking into her at a harsh pace.

Who was he to say no? He spit on her face, watching the clear, sticky glob slide down her cheek before finally spitting into her waiting mouth.

His pulse picked up at her happy little moan as she swallowed his spit again before licking her lips.

Something about the whole scene awakened something primal in him, and he descended upon her, licking into her mouth hungrily, their kisses becoming sloppy. He yanked the neck of her dress down, groaning at the sight of her large, naked breasts bouncing so prettily as he ravaged her on his cock.

When he gripped both breasts in his hands, the fat flesh oozed out between his fingers, her ample breasts practically spilling out of his palms. He squished them together, watching her squirm, before slapping them till they were a pretty pink, and her nipples swollen and erect.

His thrusts almost slowed down to gentle rocking while he played with her breasts, licking and sucking at her nipples, groaning in pleasure as she arched her back at the feeling, only further squishing her lovely breasts into his face. The young Uchiha was practically putty in his hands, moaning and mewling so prettily for him, her hand cupping the back of his head to her chest, clearly not wanting him to stop.

"You should see yourself right now, little sister," he muttered into her plush skin as he bit into an engorged nipple, earning him a pained shudder.

"D-Don't stop, aniki," was her only response, her legs wrapping around his waist, effectively driving her point home.

"Then again... It's my fault you're such a spoiled little princess," he chuckled breathlessly into her skin before pulling her ass onto his lap and angling them so he fucked down into her each time he slammed in.

Her moans grew louder as he drilled into her, reaching deeper with this new angle, his fat cock pounding her silken walls and rearranging her organs with each thrust.

As he slotted his mouth over hers, swallowing her pretty screams, he planted his feet firmly, continuing to pound her relentlessly. What his princess wanted, she would get, especially after the very harsh lesson he'd given her today.

Her nails dug into his scalp where her hand was still buried in his thick locks, while her other hand clawed at his back, her legs tightening around him as he kept fucking her to completion. Itachi groaned into her mouth when her pussy started clenching around him, set on sucking him dry on each pump. He kept thrusting as her walls clenched around him and she came on his cock.

With one last thrust, he shoved in, burying himself in her walls to the hilt and emptied his thick, copious load into her fertile womb.

When he broke away from her, their mouths remained connected by strings of saliva, and she pulled him back into an open-mouthed kiss.

"Still mad at me?" he asked, a smile in his voice as he pulled out of her.

She gasped at the sudden emptiness, her pussy clenching a few times around nothing, and the sight made him want to bury back home.

"M-Maybe," she said with a pout, idly rubbing their mixed cum back into her walls as it slowly dribbled out of her.

Itachi chuckled, retrieving a bunch of tissues from her dresser to wipe her dripping cunt.

"Still want the public apology?"

"... Something like that," she said, voice getting quieter as her eyelids grew heavier.

"Alright. Consider it done," he leaned down to place a kiss at her temple. "Now go to sleep, princess."

A/N: so... there's a mention of cars... i don't normally write modern AUs but this time, it just fit into the plot. also, i see it became kinda sweet at the end... i guess i just can't imagine itachi as being completely unhinged or for his gentle side to not come out at the end when it concerns his sibs?? anyway, hope you liked it anon!

prompt filled for this anon request

[aislinrayne]

[𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱]

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Lucy's having her first serious fight with her girlfriend and needs her old room back for the night; leaving the current occupant of the space with no place to sleep.

ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: Mature

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Light sexual content, strong language, no use of Y/N.

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: Happy (still technically) early Valentine's Day to the little gremlins in my phone <3 This was supposed to be a nice short oneshot to help me overcome some writers block around my main series, but, uh... once again, it got out of hand. Special thanks to @websterss and @why-what-no for helping me figure out how to approach the attic scene, which ended up being the catalyst of this veering so far out of control 😂 Hope you guys enjoy! (Oh god I completely forgot to mention, the title is from I Love You So by The Walters)

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 5.3k

It was a quiet night at 35 Portland Row, the team having a rare evening off between jobs that seemed to double by the day.  Gaining fame and notoriety had been Lockwood’s goal since the day he and George had officially formed Lockwood & Co. several years previously, and to say they’d been successful would be an understatement.  

There had been a call for him to increase his numbers and branch out as a better manned agency many times, but to do so would mean giving up certain freedoms he wasn’t willing to relinquish.  Including the house he and his agents had come to call home.   Hiring extra hands would require extra accommodations and though that would come with its own set of bonuses, there was something to be said about the consistency and approachability of a single door at street level on a seemingly unassuming family home.

At least, that’s what he tried to remind himself as he was startled from a rare peaceful sleep by the sound of a closed fist pounding insistently on his front door.  

For a solitary moment, he considers ignoring it.  

“ANTHONY!  I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!  GET YOUR ARSE UP AND OPEN THE DAMN DOOR.”  A familiar voice hollers from the front porch.  

He’s out of bed before his sleep-addled brain can register the movement, turning on the lamp on his side table and grabbing a grey sweatshirt off the chair at his desk, pulling it over his head as he descends the stairs at a breakneck pace.  

The several locks on their front door had never really seemed like overkill before, but they’d never stood between him and a friend in obvious distress before either.  He fumbles the last of the bolts and pulls the door open to find Lucy Carlyle looking disheveled, eyes rimmed red and lip trembling, the picture of misery.  Wordlessly, he opens his arms and she crumbles into them without hesitation, burying her face in his shoulder.  

They stay like that for a while, until his toes remind him that he’s still barefoot and London nights are cold this time of year.  He pulls away enough to usher her inside, closing the door behind them and locking it tight for the night once more.  She sniffles, allowing herself to be led into the kitchen and sat in her old chair as he goes through the motions of filling the kettle and setting it on the stove to boil for tea.  

He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to interrogate her.  If and when she’s ready to talk about it, she’ll tell him.

“I need my old room for the night.”  She mumbles eventually, using a finger to trace the outline of one of the many unflattering doodles of Lockwood on the thinking cloth.  “Norrie and I got into it tonight, she says she needs some space.”  

He remains silent as he pours water into their mugs, trying to puzzle his way through how to make that happen.  She knew that room was occupied now, and he knew she wouldn’t ask if she wasn’t in desperate need of the comfort of her old home.  

Nodding decisively, he walks back to the cupboard and pulls out another cup.  

“I’ll go wake her up and get the bedding changed over.  Do you want to talk about it?”   She shakes her head vehemently at the question, choosing instead to drop her head onto the table with a loud thud.  He has to smother a laugh at that.  Despite understanding the serious nature of the situation, he’s acutely aware that this is their first major fight in three years.  Chances are they’ll be back to their obnoxiously happy ways within the week, but if he doesn’t treat this as seriously as Lucy is clearly feeling it is then he might as well turn in his best friend title on the spot.  

He places her tea on the table beside her head and his own across from her, patting her shoulder reassuringly as he withdraws his hand.  Doubling back to the counter, he picks up the third cup and takes it with him out of the kitchen and up the stairs, closing the door to his room as he passes it on his way to the top of the house.

Standing on the landing outside her door he falters, almost losing his nerve.  Then he reminds himself this is for Lucy.  

Rolling his shoulders back and straightening his posture, he raises his free hand and raps his knuckles against the wood.

Silence.

Brow furrowing, he knocks again.

Still nothing.

Raising his eyes to the ceiling he silently curses heavy sleepers, under no illusions that most of his resentment is’t based in envy.  

Weighing his options for a moment, he grimaces.  Go tell his woe-filled best friend he’s too much of a coward to wake their coworker himself, or risk having whatever items have accumulated on her bedside table thrown at him when he enters her room.

Unfortunately, it’s a no brainer.

He places his hand on the handle, foolishly hoping it would be locked.  

It’s not.  

Muttering curses under his breath, he pushes the door open and ascends the last flight of stairs into her room.

He finds himself frozen in place on the last step, entranced by how serene the scene before him appears.  

She’d fallen asleep with the lamp beside her bed still on.  It casts a soft golden glow across her face, and for a moment she takes his breath away.  

She’s still fully dressed from the day, passed out on top of her blankets with a book laying open beside her.  It’s so easy to picture her laying on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, fighting to try and make it through just one more chapter before the weight of her eyelids won and sleep finally overcame her.  

He could feel a soft smile making itself at home on his face, an affectionate exasperation at her dedication to the written word settling comfortably in his chest.  

If he hadn’t already, this would have been the moment he fell in love.  

Wrestling himself from his thoughts and trying to shape his face into something at least slightly less lovesick, he thaws his feet and makes his way over to the bed.  

“It’s time to wake up, beautiful.”  He says, the last part slipping out unbidden.  

She doesn’t react, so he closes her book and moves it to her side table to make room for himself to sit on the mattress beside her.  The bed settling under his weight makes her stir, rolling onto her back and mumbling something incoherent.  

When she makes no move to wake any further, he reaches across to squeeze her shoulder gently.  She whines, scrunching up her face in indignance and opening bleary eyes to blink slowly at the disturbance.  Her eyes come to focus on him and the tension drains from her face, a sleepy smile taking its place as she hums and rests her eyes shut again.  

He smiles right back at her, letting his hand run down her arm.  His intention is to pull away, but apparently she has other plans.  She reaches after him, catching his hand with her own and pulling back towards her.  His heart leaps into his throat and he can actively feel the blood rushing to his face as her body curls in his direction.

“Come back to bed…”  She mumbles, voice still laced with exhaustion, resting her forehead against the back of his hand and sighing contentedly at the contact.  He’s completely forgotten how to function, torn between blindly following her wishes and remembering why he’s in her room this late to begin with.

He’s saved from having to decide anything by her eyes suddenly flying open, face transforming from sleepy bliss to sheer mortification in the blink of an eye.

“Oh my god.  I AM SO SORRY.”  She shrieks, flailing away from him with such vigour that she throws herself straight off the opposite edge of the bed.  He dives across the bed in a valiant attempt to catch her but he’s just a hair too late, the echoing thud of her body hitting the floor making him wince sympathetically.  

He peeks over the side of the bed to find her laying on her back with her hands over her beet red face.  She parts her fingers, staring miserably at him from between them.  

His lips are pressed together tightly with the effort maintaining his composure.

She cracks first, a giggle slipping past her hands.

Within seconds they’re both in stitches, almost crying with laughter.  By the time they manage to compose themselves, several minutes must have passed.  

He stands and walks around the bed to offer her a hand.  She wipes the tears from her eyes, heaving for breath as she reaches up to accept his help and is pulled to her feet.  

“Now that that’s out of the way, what the hell are you doing in my room at this time of night?”  She gasps, bracing her palms on her thighs as she struggles to make her lungs understand she’s not suffocating.  

Lockwood’s eyes go wide with horror.

“I’m an awful friend.”  He rushes out, covering his mouth.  She does a double take in response, looking like she’s about to get whiplash from the sudden shift in topic and energy.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Luce is downstairs in the kitchen right now.  I guess she and Norrie had a lover's quarrel?  She needs her room back for the night.”  

He cringes as she gapes at him.  

Thankfully, instead of scolding him she bolts into action.  The bed is stripped bare before he can even process the speed with which she’s moving and suddenly she’s shoving his arms full with fabric.

“Laundry room!  Now!”  She snaps, already across the room rifling through her wardrobe for fresh bedding. 

He’s on the second step by the time she calls him back to ask what Lucy was wearing when she showed up on their doorstep.  

“Jeans and a jumper.”  He calls over his shoulder as he descends the steps two at a time.  

The laundry room is close to George’s room, so he decides to err on the side of caution and leave the items in the washing machine and makes a mental note to start it in the morning.  By the time he finishes separating everything and has it all organized, he can hear footfalls approaching rapidly from overhead.  There’s a stutter in her step and a brief scrambling noise that has him holding his breath, but she manages to rebalance herself and continues down the next flight on her way to the kitchen without losing any momentum.  

His shoulders slump in relief and all at once the late hour catches up with him.  

Or does it officially qualify as early now?  

He’s still pondering that when he almost slips on a small puddle of liquid at the top of the stairs.  The adrenaline wakes him up a bit but now he has another, if slightly more pressing, question.

What the hell is on the floor?

And then it clicks.  

The tea.  

She must have grabbed it off her bedside table on her way downstairs and spilled it when she almost took a tumble of her own.  

He chuckles and shakes his head, almost uncomfortably aware of how smitten he is with the small tornado occupying the attic room as he turns back to grab a towel from the room he’d just left.

By the time he makes his way into the kitchen, she’s helping Lucy out of her chair and herding the girl upstairs.  

He raises his eyebrow at her in a silent question, but she shoots him a look that says ‘stay here, I’ve got this’ and an almost shy smile that promises she’ll be back soon.  He dips his head in understanding, shooting her a smirk that hopefully says ‘I’ll be here’ and not ‘I’m hopelessly in love with you’.

After the girls exit the room, his eye is drawn to his now lukewarm tea on the table.  He sighs, reaching across the table to grab his cup.  

He stares at the liquid for a while, already hearing one of George’s endless rants about wasting tea bags rattling through his head.  Even when he’s asleep, Karim manages to torment him.  

Shrugging, he dumps the cup out into the sink and busies himself making another to pass the time.  

The kettle is starting to whistle on the stove as he opens the cupboard to grab himself a tea bag.  He’s about to close it but hesitates for a moment before reaching in to grab a second.  If his tea had gone cold, hers had as well.  

Sure enough, her cup sat abandoned beside the sink, only down the small amount that had spilled on the staircase.

She walks back into the kitchen in a fresh pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t- shirt that looks strangely familiar just as he sets their mugs on the table, shooting him a grateful smile as she collapses into her chair.  

She clasps the tea in both hands like a treasure, taking a sip and letting out a sinful sound of enjoyment that almost makes him choke, effectively distracting him from inspecting the shirt.  He barely manages to pass it off as a poorly timed inhale, but she’s considerate enough to accept it with minimal teasing.

They’re both half finished before either dares to address the elephant in the room.

“So…”  She starts, giving him a rueful smile.

“I’ll take the loveseat in the sitting room, you can sleep in my bed.”  He states matter-of-factly, intending to leave no room for argument.  

Her cocked eyebrow tells him very quickly his intention failed.

“No, I really don’t think so.  I can sleep on the loveseat, your neck will be kinked for days if you do that again.”  Her eyes are filled with a warning he readily ignores.

“I couldn’t very well call myself a gentleman if I let you do that, and you know it.”

“Anthony-“

“I’m not arguing this with you.”

“Fine then, we can share the bed.”  She retorts, a prideful twinkle in her eye as she stares a challenge at him.

“Seems like a valid compromise.”  He surprises them both with his answer, the words hanging in the air.  For a moment he wishes he could unsay them, but then her face shifts.  

Her eyes widen, cheeks flushing the prettiest shade of pink as she gapes at him.  He beams at her, finally feeling as though he has the upper hand.  

She pushes herself away from the table, standing up abruptly and padding out of the room as he leans back in his chair victoriously.  

But instead of rushing to hide away in his bedroom as he expects, she catches him off guard by stopping with her hand resting on the doorframe and glancing back over her shoulder. 

“Well…  are you coming?”  

His mouth goes dry.  Okay.  He hadn’t seen that coming. 

Lockwood considered himself a charming man. He prided himself on being capable of sweeping a woman off her feet with a few carefully placed words or gentle touches.  There were very few people on this planet that made him feel like an absolute simpleton, but unfortunately, she was one of them.  Just once, he’d like to be able to maintain his composure around her and not make a fool of himself the second she looked in his direction

Disarmed and feeling like a floundering imbecile, he sits there in silence for a second, begging his brain to come up with some kind of charismatic reply to help him save face.

An unrecognizable emotion flashes across her face and she drops her eyes, leaving him even more confused than before.  

And then his mind catches up.  

Vulnerability.  Uncertainty.  Insecurity.

Concern.

He’s on his feet before he can overthink it, gesturing for her to lead the way.  Her relief is raw, undisguisable.  He passes her at the top of the stairs, opening the door to his bedroom for her and giving a teasing little bow.  She laughs and rolls her eyes at his theatrics, but he can tell she appreciates the effort to set her at ease.  She saunters into his room, giving the space a curious scan and he realizes it’s the first time she’s actually been in here.  

He leans against the door frame, watching her approach his bookshelf and run her fingers along the spines, searching for any titles she might find familiar.  A tender smile finds its way to his face once more, and this time he doesn’t even bother trying to hide it.  

When she’s satisfied with her search, she shoots him a look before sighing dramatically, lifting the back of her hand to her forehead and pretending to faint onto his bed.  He laughs, shaking his head as he crosses the threshold.  

He considers the door for a moment, trying to decide if he should leave it open or close it.  

His eyes wander across the hall to George’s door, and he closes his own with sudden and complete confidence in his decision.

A giggle from his bed tells him she’d watched his thought process play out and agreed with his choice.  He turns to make a clever remark, but the words die on his tongue as soon as he lays eyes on her.  

She’s laying on her side across his pillows, propped up on her elbow with her chin resting on the palm of her hand, watching him through her lashes with… another unfamiliar emotion flickering behind her eyes.  

Before he can dwell on it too much, an idea occurs to him.  He crosses the room swiftly with a mischievous grin, jumping and twisting his body at the last minute to land on the mattress sideways.  She shrieks as she’s bounced at least a few inches into the air, cackling as the momentum from the landing rolls her closer to him.  Their shoulders rub together as they laugh, laying on their back and staring up at the ceiling before falling into a comfortable silence.  She lifts herself up onto her elbows, looking down at him.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m absolutely exhausted.  Do you know what time it is?”  She queries, tilting her head in curiosity.  He lifts himself up enough he can see the clock on his bedside table, hissing a breath between his teeth at the glowing numbers taunting him.  

“You don't want to know.”  He groans, dropping back to the bed.  She pokes at his side with her elbow until he looks up at her, gesturing towards the pillows with her head.  A sly smile breaks out on her face and her eyes twinkle at him.

“‘Come back to bed.’”  She echoes her own words from earlier back at him playfully, poking fun at herself as she rolls onto her side and crawls up his bed.  He laughs freely as he watches her, something he’s grown quite used to doing around her over the past few years.  She lifts the covers, diving beneath them and wiggling around until she finds a comfortable spot laying on her side close to the wall.

Trying not to overthink himself into a tizzy, rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself onto his hands and knees, grunting with the effort.  He follows her lead to climb under the covers, though he’s sure he’s not nearly as graceful or cute as she had been.  

Once he’s settled comfortably beside her, he finds himself feeling oddly out of place.  He’d never been so aware of where his hands were while laying in bed before, but now he has no idea what to do with them.   He settles for resting them awkwardly on his chest.

He can feel her staring at him.

He keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the ceiling.  

She sighs in exasperation, the bed dipping under her weight as she shifts to lean over him and turn off the lamp on his side table, somehow oblivious to him forgetting how to breathe as he becomes hyper aware of every place her body is touching his own.  She retracts her reach, but doesn’t move all the way back to her spot, leaving him completely blind and incredibly confused by her continued proximity.

Her hand touches his forearm, fingers dancing across his skin until she reaches his wrist, grabbing it and gently pulling until he lifts the arm closest to her into the air.

There’s shuffling noises and movement beside him, leaving him even more perplexed, until she’s resting her head on his shoulder and he declares himself officially braindead.  She scoots closer, tucking her body into his side and resting her open palm on his chest.

“Goodnight, Lockwood.  Sweet dreams.”  She whispers in a calm voice that would have had him completely fooled if he couldn’t feel her heart pounding against his ribs.  Her words restart his brain, allowing him to drop his arm around her, his hand automatically coming to rest on her hip.

“Goodnight, darling, you too.”  He whispers back, and though it’s too dark for him to see her face, he can still feel the heat radiating through his shirt.

He’s honestly thankful for how tired he is, otherwise he’d never be able to fall asleep with the adrenaline coursing through his veins alongside his blood.

His fingers trace absentminded swirls on her hip as his eyes begin to droop, sleep overtaking him before his conscious mind can register it happening.

For once, his dreams are actually sweet.

When he’s finally dragged unwillingly back to consciousness, the perpetrator is sunlight streaming in through his window and directly into his eyes.  

He tries to lift his right arm to block it out, but there’s an unexpected weight holding it in place.

The events of the night before rush back to him, and suddenly the blinding sun isn’t anywhere near the top of his priority list.  He lets his head roll towards her just to find her already awake and looking at him.  

Her hair is a mess, and he can’t help but laugh as he reaches across his body to brush it away from her face, though he’s sure he looks much the same.  

His fingers linger on her cheek of their own accord.  

That look in her eye from last night is back, and if he didn’t know any better he’d swear her gaze flickers to his lips for a split second.

And then, with the kind of clarity only morning light can bring, it hits him.  

A bonafide lightbulb moment.

He really is a bloody simpleton.

Truly, he could be an absolute moron sometimes, and he swore to himself in that moment the next time someone told him so he’d willingly agree with them.

Acting without thinking had gone surprisingly well for him in the past twenty-four hours, so what’s one more gamble, in the grand scheme of things?  

His hand slides down from her cheek, his fingers lightly caressing the back of her neck as he guides her face towards him.  Her eyes flutter closed and he swears his heart is about to break free from his chest.

His lips ghost over hers, giving her plenty of room to pull away if she’s in any way uncomfortable.  

As always, she surprises him, rolling her body towards him and gripping the front of his sweatshirt with both hands, using it to pull him closer to her.  

There’s a need poured into the next kiss, a desperation and hunger born of pining they’d both been so certain was one sided.

He meets her intensity with his own, slipping an arm underneath her waist and placing a hand on her back to pull her tightly against him.  

She lets a muffled moan slip, and a thrill runs up his spine at the thought of spending as much time as he wants learning each and every noise of pleasure she’s capable of making, and how to coax them out of her like music.

Her hands release his shirt, roaming over every inch of his body they can touch instead.  

Her exploration must have caused his shirt to start to bunch around his waist because as the hand on the nape of her neck finds its way into her hair, one of her roaming hands grazes a sliver of bare skin on his hip and he gasps, automatically tightening his grip and giving her hair a gentle tug in the process.  She whimpers against his lips, breaking the kiss as her head falls back in an instinctive response.

Oh.  He was going to have to remember that for later.

Not that it would be a problem, that noise was going to play a part in all of his fantasies for the foreseeable future.

Never one to pass up an opportunity, he takes advantage of the opening to pull her closer and kiss her neck.  

His name falls from her lips like a prayer and as he grins in delight his teeth graze her skin.  

She moans in earnest at that, back arching involuntarily as she presses her body against his so close he can feel her heart beating through their clothes.  

Keen to test a theory, he presses kisses up her throat until he’s high enough to catch her earlobe, letting it slide lightly between his teeth.

“Fuck.”  She hisses, digging her nails into his hip.  He can’t stop the growl that rumbles from his chest at that, and she hooks a leg over him in reply.  

He feels like he’s drowning in her, everything in him is screaming to surrender and worship her like the goddess she is but he knows it would be too much too fast for both of them.  

So, exhibiting strength he didn’t know he had, he pulls back.  Gulping oxygen like he’s been holding his breath for hours and sliding his hand back down to her neck before pulling her in close enough to press a firm and reassuring kiss to her forehead until he can compose himself enough to swear he isn’t in any way rejecting her.  

Somehow, as always, she understands exactly what he’s doing and balls her fists in his shirt, taking stabilizing breaths of her own.

Once he’s confident they’re both back in full control, he slides his fingers under her chin, lifting her face and pressing his lips to hers in a leisurely and indulgent kiss that promises it won’t be the last.

She hums contentedly when he pulls away again, chasing after him to give him a gentle peck.

“I really am a dunce, aren’t I?”  He asks when he’s regained his composure, replaying so many events from the last several years over in his mind in a whole new light.  

“Do you want an honest answer?”

“Always.”

“Yeah, you’re right thick sometimes.”

“I really am, because now that I’m thinking about it, you are terrible at hiding how you feel.”  He grins as she smacks his arm, tossing her head back and laughing.  

“Like you’re one to talk!  Anthony Lockwood, you are an open book and I’ve been a fool not to notice it before.”  She teases, tilting her head to rest their foreheads together.  He shrugs, planting a peck on her nose before dragging himself reluctantly out from under the covers.

“Up you get, if we stay in bed too much longer they’re going to start asking questions.”  He offers her his hand as he whispers the last part conspiratorially.  

She rolls her eyes at him but takes the offered appendage anyway, letting him pull her to her feet before trudging across his room to the door.  She places her palm on the handle, but hesitates before turning it.  

Seeming to steel herself for something, she turns instead to face him.

“And if they do?  Y’know, ask questions?”  There’s a crease between her brows that speaks of concern and it makes his heart ache, something in him begging to reach out and smooth it away.

“I suppose that depends.  How attached are you to the attic?”  He deadpans.

“What?”  She’s taken aback, confusion painted across every feature.

“I mean, personally, I’m rather fond of this room.  I did move out of the attic because I felt I’d outgrown it, but I am willing to compromise.”  He smirks, waiting for her to catch on.  “I’m far more fond of sharing a bed with you.”  He adds quietly when she continues to stare at him in bewilderment.  

Her eyes go wide when she pieces it all together.

“Sorry, wait, hold on… rewind for a second.  Did you just skip straight to asking me to move in with you instead of actually verbally admitting that you want to date me?”  She gawks at him incredulously.

“I believe I did, actually, yes.  Thoughts?”  

“I’m bad with heights and it is freezing up there in the winter.”  She replies without a second’s hesitation.  Soothing the twinge of protective guilt at the thought of her shivering alone in the cold with the knowledge he wouldn’t let it happen again, he grins and crosses the room to pull her into a passionate kiss.  

He almost loses himself to the softness of her lips and the feeling of her body pinned between him and the door, but he manages to hold himself at least partially to the task at hand.

“Just to be perfectly transparent,” He manages to add between kisses, “I would very much like to date you.”  She lifts her arms and lets them drape around his neck, pulling him close for one last kiss before separating.

“Good, because I would ‘very much’ like to date you too.”  She laughs, giving him a playful shove back to make enough room to open the door to the hallway.  

They exit his room holding hands and bumping shoulders as they venture towards the stairs.  

George’s door flies open and they freeze, both looking at him like deer caught in headlights.  

He blinks, takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes, puts his glasses back on, and stands there staring at them for a long moment in only boxers and an oversized shirt.

“Fucking FINALLY.”  He hollers with the intensity of a man infuriated by years of their unending mutual idiocy, storming off to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.  

They slowly turn to look at each other, breaking out in laughter for what must be the hundredth time in the past two days.  

Before they resume their journey downstairs though, George’s oversized shirt had reminded Lockwood of something.

“Hey, I almost forgot to ask.  Is that my shirt?”  He asks, raising an eyebrow at her.  The colour spreads from her neck to her face almost instantaneously as she begrudgingly nods, looking pointedly at the ground.  He wraps an arm around her shoulders, his signature smile plastered on his face.  

“Good.  I like it.”  He confesses, squeezing her arm reassuringly.  She leans into him, wrapping her arm around his waist as they descend the stairs and head for the kitchen.

What they find upon entering the room is wildly unexpected.

Lucy and Norrie are sitting side by side with their arms crossed, both wearing the same smug smirk, five mugs of steaming hot tea placed around the table in front of them.  

The girl tucked into his side gasps, connecting the dots rapidly and letting loose a quiet shriek of betrayal and indignation.  

“You sneaky bitches!”  There’s awe in her voice when she finally speaks, though she’s clearly not certain if she should be grateful or angry at the manipulation.

Even though he should probably be upset, feeling the warmth of her body against his and already making plans to move her belongings into his - their room, he just can’t bring himself to be anything other than thankful for their intervention.

Looking at the calendar on the wall, the final piece of the puzzle clicks into place.

Sneaky bitches indeed, he finds himself thinking as the women in question pick up their teacups to cheers each other. 

Reaching down to press a kiss to the top of her head, he leans in close enough to whisper;

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

⤛⊹ 𝔣𝔦𝔫 ⊹⤜

𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔱𝔞𝔭 [𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢]

[dovand]

i am as always thinking about 14 and the nobles... specifically 14 & shaun. CRIMINAL lack of 14 & shaun content . excuse me that is my emotional support deranged lovers-in-law prongs of a queerplatonic throuple V. that is my little scrinkly wet cat and his chill saint bernard friend. that is my symbiotic relationship weirdos who sleep back-to-back to 14 can a) leech his body heat b) cuddle donna c) not fall off the bed. that is my favourite “both wake up early but one of them is being clung to like they are a teddy bear and it is Not Shaun, who is making ‘too bad’ faces at 14 and tiptoeing away” dynamic.

(14 either ends up dozing again after he wakes up early or just lays there curled up thinking—but, either way, when shaun shows up with breakfast in bed every sunday, he is treated to the beautiful sight of the two huge autism creature eyes peering up at him from behind the most bedraggled mop of hair ever seen. whether there are any thoughts behind those eyes depends on whether their owner has been napping or Pondering)

(yes this is all made up in my head!!! yes i am dismayed by there only being FOUR FICS (4!!) using it as a tag and none of them (afaict) doing it in a qpr way. where is my deranged weirdplatonic polycule!!!)

further insanity under the cut pleasseee please please read. please i need to be insane about this with people

(also btw this post is about queerplatonic doctordonna, doctordonna shippers i love you and you are welcome to contribute but it is a Little squicky for me so if tag ur additions (so i have a heads-up) that would be so lovely and i would adore you forever <3)

shaun likes listening to people ramble and 14 likes rambling so it is a regular occurrence to find the two of them like. standing in the kitchen holding cups of tea except one of them is actually drinking the tea and one of them is talking too rapidly about equivalent exchange to remember to blink, let alone have a sip of earl gray that has veered violently past lukewarm and is headed straight for room temperature

if 14 is in a not-wordy mood tho… thru shaun’s expert tutelage he has mastered the art of the Dad Nod. he passes shaun in the hall and gives him a little nod. shaun gives him one back. 0 words are spoken but they understand each other on a deeper level than if there had been.

they go on a Family Outing to a thrift store. rose and donna disappear to the dressier sections. shaun creeps along the racks of trousers, solemnly comparing seemingly identical pairs of jeans. 14 follows him and stares for a while, then silently hands him a loudly patterned pair of shorts. shaun takes them without question and adds them to his basket & sylvia loses her mind just a little bit when she sees him wearing them

(^ this inspired by going thrifting w my friend and looking @ everything and then finding her dad looking thru the racks of shorts comparing two beige ones, and my friend handing him a pair of pink shorts with penguins on and him buying them. because he has some . i think plaid shorts? at home and when he wore them his wife said he looked gay. so he’s trying to do it More) (it's an incredible family dynamic there. i have no idea what is going on)

god jesus. 14 learns how to cook so he can be the housething (as opposed to housewife or househusband. he is just a weirdgenderthing. little creature). someone buys him a nice apron and he wears it with so much delight. chases everyone else out of the kitchen so he can concoct something lovely. runs out into the garden to stick something into an oven in the tardis kitchen because “i am not working with enough ovens, here, people!”. organises the pantry and gets this crazed look if anyone tries to stop him. “how will i know where things a—” “it will be LABELLED.” brandishes a label maker that DEFINITELY is not from modern-day earth given that it seems to take dictation as input and can print in colour and has not needed a refill of paper even though he has extensively labelled EVERY PLASTIC BOX of stuff in the pantry

sometimes he gets into Moods where he needs to solve a problem before it makes his head explode and that used to be a like. tinkering in the tardis thing. where he’d have himself and whatever poor companion he was with just floating in the time vortex for a week while he tries to make this bit of the tardis do what he wants it to. now it’s a day or two spent almost entirely in the kitchen trying to find the scientifically optimal method by which to make meringues. he starts gesturing dramatically with a spatula forgetting it is not a sonic screwdriver. makes a sonic spatula. realises he doesn’t often need to like. scan a pancake for malware. sadly puts the sonic spatula away

he is absolutely a nightmare to watch movies with btw bc a) can’t sit still b) so tall. either he is bouncing his leg and shaking the whole couch or he is stretched out across the entire sofa. no in between. donna buys a thick rug so he can just lay on the floor. the rug is TOO comfortable and he starts just spending time laying on the floor which would be fine if he thought to turn the lights on because people keep almost stepping on him while he’s having 4am Floor Time (on the nights he's not drooling all over donna's pillow)

if anyone else has thoughts about Them PLEASe share i will love you so much and forever. doctor~donna/shaun weirdcule is the only thing in my head

[hb-writes]

The Way Back

Summary: Mike is in prison and Charlie is worried—about Mike, about her brother, about school, about everything.

Prompt: “I don’t need a map to know we got lost.”

Characters: Harvey Specter & Charlie Specter (OC)

Content Warning: Just angsty. Mention of panic attacks and heart attacks.

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

The Specters had been silent for miles, both quietly stewing as they moved away from the ocean and back towards the highway, back towards New York.

Some part of Charlie still felt angry, the waves of their argument still washing over her, unwilling to let her cool. Unwilling to let it pass them over. Unwilling to let the tension between them fall away.

It felt like a waste, feeling so upset when the scenery was so beautiful. As the little town where Marcus had rented a beach house for his siblings, Katie, and the kids, gave way to thick woods that hugged the road's shoulder, Charlie found herself consciously thinking as much. That it would have been better if Harvey had just agreed to let them stay for lunch. To let that actually enjoy Marcus’s birthday celebration. 

It had been Charlie’s idea to wait until Harvey came to pick her up to have the real celebration. She had assumed Harvey wouldn’t be able to turn them down at that point. She figured he would have to slow down for a moment, but he had said no. He had said they needed to get back to the city, his frustration coming out in the sharpness of his words, the definiteness of his tone. 

Their shouting had been loud enough that Marcus got between them, and recognizing that something was off with Harvey—he was even more stuck in his ways than usual—Marcus had implored Charlie to back down. To let it go. To just do what Harvey was asking and pack up her things. To get in the car and get on the road so they could get back home. 

And she’d done it. She’d packed up and said her goodbyes and gotten into the car and she hadn’t spoken to Harvey since. 

Close to half an hour later, Charlie's eyes noted a large green sign as they passed, the one directing drivers to veer right if they were intending on taking the highway, which she assumed they were. They usually took the highways on weekend trips to visit Marcus in Massachusetts. She figured the ride home from Rhode Island wouldn't be any different. It was the most efficient and most direct route.

And Harvey was apparently in such a goddamned hurry.

Charlie had originally told him not to bother coming to pick her up, had insisted that if he wasn't even going to spend the weekend with them, she could just have Marcus drop her at the nearest train station connecting them to Penn Station or Grand Central, but that had been suggested in spite. Communicated only after Charlie had complained the whole ride there that he would be absent. Complained that he was backing out of their family week…Backing out of celebrating their brother's birthday…

So, after stopping by Danbury Federal Penitentiary, Harvey had driven three hours to the beach house, lingering for less than a half an hour before he was ushering his sister out the door even though they had planned a celebratory afternoon for Marcus.

Charlie glanced at her brother, one hand on the steering wheel as he leaned his head into the other, his elbow rested against the door. As they continued down some back road, Charlie leaned forward and reached out to turn down the music. 

“Is there a reason you didn’t take the turn for the highway?” 

Harvey glanced at her. “What are you talking about?” 

“The highway was back there,” Charlie answered. “You know, a big green sign that says ‘this way’.” 

"Yeah, well, we need some gas,” Harvey answered. “We can get on the highway after that.”

Charlie glanced at the gas gauge—they had more than enough to make it back to the city, especially considering he didn't want to stop anywhere. No lunch. No bathroom breaks. Just silence and the highway back home. Charlie rolled her eyes as she stared back out at the passing scenery. 

Silence settled between them once again and Harvey continued down the road, the space between houses and buildings growing steadily more distant, the presence of commercial buildings non-existent, including gas stations. 

Charlie wished she could put more distance between her and her brother. They felt miles apart, even though she could reach out and touch him, but it had felt like Harvey was somewhere else for weeks now, ever since he had dropped Mike off at the prison. Charlie slumped against the window, trying to remember the nice week she'd had with Marcus, trying not to focus on the fact that it had been cut short and the tension she felt now. 

It had been Harvey’s idea for her to still go. He had insisted on it. Insisted on getting her out of the city, and away from the firm's problems. Away from Mike's imprisonment. Away from Harvey.

Not that they'd spent much time together recently anyway. Harvey’s focus had been on Mike, on making sure that he got out. He seemed always to be at the office or Danbury at all hours. Charlie understood why. She didn’t blame her brother for being distant, but she was still worried—about Mike, about her brother, about school, about everything.

So she had needed the distraction of a spring break out of the city with family, and it had worked, in a way, but then again, it hadn't, Charlie’s mind constantly straying to the brother who had stayed behind. The brother who had been stressed and overworked and emotionally detached for weeks now, ever since Mike's sentencing.

"There's nothing out here," Charlie offered. "I think we're going the wrong way. You should—”

"You gonna keep running your mouth or you gonna actually be helpful?” came Harvey’s sharp reply. 

“I am being helpful,” she said. “I’m saying there’s no gas station this way.”

“Pull up a goddamn map and check then."

Charlie rolled her eyes, but dug her phone out of her pocket anyway, scrolling for the maps app she rarely used. 

"Don't really need a map to know we're lost."

"We're not lost."

"No? Then where the hell are we?"

"We're not—"

"Yes, we are."

"We aren't—"

"Just pull over!” Charlie shouted before her tone softened. "Please."

It was Charlie’s pleading that finally did it, so raw and tear-filled that Harvey pressed his foot to the brake pedal as if it was automatic, as if there was nothing else he could even consider doing but acquiescing to his sister’s request. 

“We’re lost, Harvey,” she said, “And we don’t have any signal out here.”

It made Harvey feel sick in the pit of his stomach. He knew Charlie was talking about being lost in the here and now. He knew it was a solvable problem, but the words reminded him that he’d been feeling lost for weeks now. 

And then they reminded him of the time Charlie had wandered from his side at the mall. How panicked he’d been for the ten minutes or so before he found her smiling, tucked into the mall’s security office with a cookie she had somehow cajoled the guard into buying for her. 

Harvey saw no trace of a smile on his sister now though and Harvey didn’t smile either. He hadn’t smiled since Mike had gone away for Harvey, and every day had felt like those ten minutes when he’d lost Charlie that one time. Every day had felt like 24 hours of worry and hurt, unending concern and fear and panic and relentless drive. 

Harvey was exhausted. 

“You’re no help to him like this. It’s no good. You need to slow down. Take a break—”

“What do you think this was?” 

He was talking about the drive to pick her up. That and the thirty minutes he spent in the company of family, restless and ready to go the entire time, the whole thing ending with the two of them bickering and him using her full name as he told her to get her ass in the car. 

“This wasn’t a break, Harvey.” 

“And how exactly am I supposed to take a break?” Harvey asked. “He doesn’t get a break. There’s no Spring Break or beach houses at Danbury. No birthday dinners or board games for him.” 

Charlie swallowed, feeling the sting of her brother’s words, part of her ashamed that she’d had a spring break at the beach with all of those things. She’d had a break, a week of board games and movies and afternoon walks on the chilly beach. She’d enjoyed a week of helping Marcus cook dinner and a daily wine sampling practice that both of them had vowed not to tell Harvey about.

“I know,” Charlie said, the swell of emotion heavy in her chest even though she didn’t know. Not really. She didn’t have a clue what Mike was going through outside of what she could imagine, what she’d read about in books or seen on tv. 

She didn’t know what anyone was going through when it came down to it. Not Mike. Not Harvey. Not Donna or Rachel. They were all dealing on their own. Keeping everything inside either from necessity or to protect her. Everyone was going through the motions—functioning—but even so, Charlie knew her brother. She knew when something was wrong.

Charlie had seen Harvey stressed. She had seen him on edge and overworked. But this was something different. All-consuming, like there was nothing else in his life. 

Little sleep.

No women.

Harvey barely ate, barely spoke unless it concerned Mike or his cases. 

“I’m worried about him, too,” Charlie mumbled. 

Harvey didn’t scoff or comment, but Charlie could feel her brother dismissing it. Dismissing her words. As if it was impossible for her to know enough to worry about him. As if Harvey had a monopoly on that feeling. 

“I’m worried about him, Harvey, but I’m worried about you, too,” Charlie continued. “I mean, when’s the last time you actually slept?” 

It wasn't often that Charlie admitted to worrying about her brother. And it wasn’t often that Harvey made anything less than a conscious effort to hide anything worrisome from his sister. More often than not, Harvey exuded nonchalance. More often than not, Charlie had no idea what her brother was going through. More often than not, Harvey kept up that boundary that allowed Charlie to stay a kid, to focus on school, even now that she was a senior, about to graduate.

Harvey wasn’t even aware of how he was presenting to her now. He’d been so focused on Mike. So focused on Gallow. So focused on Sutter. He didn’t think about what it looked like, but it was all Charlie could think about—her brother was stressed, and though she tried not to, all she could think about was her brother's panic attacks. 

And her father’s heart attack. 

Charlie didn’t know much about the state of her brother’s heart. As far as she knew, Harvey was in good shape. He was healthy, but heart disease could be genetic, and there was no way all of this stress was good for him. 

Charlie got out of the car, pacing along the edge of the road and putting some distance between herself and the car. She felt the prickle of tears and she pressed her eyes closed, willing it all to hold. Willing it to stay inside. 

When she turned back to the car, Harvey was standing beside the driver’s side, watching her. He looked ready for more, still ready to fight. To argue about whether they were lost or anything else, but Charlie didn’t want to fight him, not on this, so she closed the distance between them instead, wrapping her arms around him as she settled against his chest.

Charlie didn’t know if Harvey was doing it for her or himself, but he accepted the hug without resistance. Charlie held on for as long as Harvey seemed to need and then some, knowing that her brother never pulled away first. It was always up to her. 

“Give me the keys,” she said. “I’m driving.” 

Harvey seemed reluctant and Charlie sighed.

“Please, Harvey. Just let me do this. Let me help.” 

Charlie held out her hand, ushering a quiet thank you when he handed them over without a fight before proceeding to the passenger’s side. 

“So what’s your plan?” he asked as she settled behind the steering wheel. “Since we’re lost and all?”

Charlie shrugged as she secured her seatbelt and began adjusting the mirrors. “We’ll just go back the way we came.” 

Sometimes it wasn’t so easy. Sometimes you couldn’t just go back, but just now they could. Just now, they could make things simple and Charlie was grateful for that. Grateful that a hug and retracing their steps could put them back on track. Grateful that something had eased in her chest, and had seemed to shift in Harvey’s too.  

 Harvey helped navigate until they were back to the highway, the conversation between them less charged and more collegial, but shortly after Charlie merged into the traffic heading back to the city, Harvey started to drift. Leaning against the window and snoring gently for miles and miles, he slept—if not peacefully, then deeply, at least.

Things still felt confusing and lost and messy, but they had found their way back to the highway and she knew Harvey would find his way back from this, too. It was a tough situation, but Charlie knew her brother. She knew Mike and Rachel and Donna. 

And even though they were probably all feeling a little lost, Charlie knew they were all tough enough to get through this, too. 

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

[openphrase123]

okay........so sorry for all these questions lol feel free to pick and choose.

73, 65, 45, 32, 26, 20, 11, and 10!!

AH? well don't worry i like answering things :) thank you for the ask >:3

however this shit's going under a readmore (there isssss a preview of tomorrow's four eyes update in here though :3) (and also fic recs)

73. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

I think I format things a little differently on ao3 than what i've seen in other fics? me and my doublespaces. sorry if this makes them harder to read it actually makes it easier for me to read with my visual processing

for actual CONTENT... idk i think i have the tendency to take things that are extremely high concepts that veer into crackfic territory and ground them in reality as best i can. but i think it feels more real because i deal a lot in slow boils and longfics, so i take lots of time on atmosphere before immediately coming out with things like "siffrin is a literal star banished from the sky by the universe"

also i think i'm really strong at romance writing especially but that's neither here nor there

65. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

i actually just noticed you left a comment on my seizure-induced post about my future 20 years later fic and it reminded me that i'm so on my high horse about how i named the isafrin fankids i made up for it. you know how siffrin's name is sisyphus but id5 mangled it into siffrin? i did that with all of the isafrin fankid names. took greek mythology heroes and mangled the names. theseus -> thessan and aeneas -> aeney

anyway they're fun to write and i keep writing about them as a treat when i need it :3 they're both forgotten island castaways that washed up on shore as toddlers so they couldn't just learn vaugardian and move on, and everyone in bambouche was like "hey siffrin can you take care of these kids since you're from the same country" and he panicked for a full month before saying yes

45. Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh?

por que no los dos? can't i do both? sometimes i do it at the same time, even. i do want to END with them laughing though i don't give hits without a comfort at the end

32. Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

club of never missing in my heart is entryn17, faedemon (hi @moipale :3), and grech (HI @isuggestwishcraft) although i need to like. catch up. there are fics on grech's profile i haven't read yet. this is a mistake

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

um. :)

it's a tie between inutile and four eyes (curtain call is SO MILD) but they're wild rides in different ways. inutile is like a proper steel roller coaster where you can see what the next drop is going to be if you look ahead. four eyes is a 50 year old wooden legacy coaster that you wonder if it's stable enough to ride on safely the whole time you're on it. (in case you were wondering, the 20 years later fic is like a teacup ride that you get sick on in between breaks and curtain call is a log ride that has lots of drops but you can still take your nephew on it without scaring the shit out of him)

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

when i write in the second person i am so guilty of "you feel yourself/you see yourself/she seemed/she looks" like i need to stop that... however i don't make multiple drafts of fanfiction, i do it a lot less in Fully Original Edited Works

my friends that know me outside of isat would say my biggest writing theme is clones and duplicates and doppelgangers so. [sweats]

isat is lacking in some of my other writing themes which how blood family interacts with found family but [looks at four eyes and starts sweating again] aw beans i didn't realize i was doing that there until now

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

backstitching has been taking over my entire life. i need to start leaving comments on it but i'm shy

@riggedbones has also made me insane about their odile looping au, pspsps you want to read find chance in consequence sooooo bad

i do not know where the wild hunt is going but i am grisping it really hard. i'm eyes-emoji-ing it.

10. Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

hahaha. lol. from the four eyes chapter i'm formatting right now, that's coming out tomorrow:

[6azia]

Some Time | Silco x m!reader

—summary. Maybe Silco should let Y/N in, but not for his sake

—content warning. -

—word count. 2,2k

—azia‘s notes. I've posted it on Ao3 but now it's also here

Part 5↞ ↠Part 7 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝕾𝖍𝖎𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝕷𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

Y/N had started coming by the Last Drop nearly every day, his presence quickly becoming a fixture in their unusual little family. At first, it had been out of necessity—keeping Jinx from blowing something up or veering too far into chaos—but over time, it became something more. Y/N cooked meals, took care of small tasks around the place, and, most importantly, kept Jinx occupied in a way that let Silco finally have moments of peace.

Jinx flourished under the attention. She thrived on Y/N's patience, the way he listened to her ideas without judgment but still had the firmness to guide her when she strayed too close to something dangerous. She called him her "favorite grown-up" with a grin, clinging to him like a child who had finally found the stability she craved.

"You're so much better at this stuff than Silco," she teased one night at dinner, waving a forkful of food in Y/N's direction. "He just gives me that look—you know, the one that says 'stop that, Jinx,' without even saying it. But you're fun!"

Y/N chuckled, glancing briefly at Silco, who sat across the table, silently observing them. "I think he's just trying to keep you out of trouble. Someone has to."

Jinx laughed, her giggle light and free in a way that warmed Y/N's heart. "Yeah, yeah. But you're still way better at making dinner. Silco burns toast."

Silco said nothing, only raising an eyebrow as he sipped his wine. His eyes, however, lingered on the two of them—on the way Jinx seemed so happy, so secure in Y/N's presence.

He found himself retreating into the shadows more often these days, content to let Y/N take the lead with her. It wasn't that he didn't care—quite the opposite. Watching Jinx so carefree, so at ease, made something unfamiliar stir in his chest.

It was envy, he realized. And something deeper—something that made him long for the warmth that Jinx received so freely from Y/N. Silco had spent years building walls around himself, hardening his edges to survive the ruthless world of Zaun. But now, watching Y/N with Jinx, he felt the weight of those walls pressing down on him. He wanted to be part of it, to feel the same warmth and care that Y/N offered so naturally.

But he said nothing. Silco wasn't one to indulge in sentimental fantasies, even if the ache in his chest grew stronger with each passing day. He settled for observing them, watching from the periphery as Y/N became more of a mother figure to Jinx—a role Silco had never been able to fill, despite his best efforts.

Y/N, on the other hand, misread Silco's quiet demeanor as indifference—or worse, disdain. He was convinced that Silco barely tolerated his presence, only putting up with him because Jinx insisted on it. It was easier to believe that than to imagine someone as calculating and powerful as Silco might actually appreciate him.

Jinx, blissfully unaware of the tension between the two, didn't care. She was just happy. For the first time in her life, she had two people who cared about her, who didn't insult her or make her feel like a burden. To her, they were perfect, even if they didn't see it themselves.

One evening, after Jinx had fallen asleep on the couch, Y/N draped a blanket over her and turned to find Silco watching from the doorway. Their eyes met for a brief, charged moment.

"She's... getting better," Y/N said softly, unsure why he felt the need to fill the silence.

Silco nodded, his eyes were sharply fixed on Y/N's hand which was resting on the blue haired girl. "You've been good for her."

Y/N blinked, startled by the rare compliment. "I'm just trying to help."

"You've done more than that." Silco's voice was low, almost contemplative. He stepped closer, his sharp eyes briefly softening as they flicked toward Jinx. "She needs stability. And... you've given her that." He wanted to add, even if you aren't but he stopped when he saw how Y/N relaxed under his gaze.

Y/N wasn't sure how to respond, so he simply nodded. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Silco finally broke the gaze, turning toward his office. "Good night," he said curtly, disappearing down the hallway.

Y/N exhaled, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, he thought there might have been something genuine in Silco's words—some small hint of approval—but he dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. Silco probably just wanted to keep Jinx happy, and Y/N was a convenient means to that end.

Still, as he settled into the chair across from the sleeping Jinx, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to the way Silco had looked at him. Something he wasn't ready to understand.

As the night deepened, Y/N made himself comfortable on the floor near the couch where Jinx slept. He rested his head against a makeshift pillow, his body angled toward her in case she woke up from another nightmare. She stirred occasionally, her face twitching with remnants of restless dreams, but the presence of Y/N seemed to anchor her. He stayed close, ready to reassure her the moment she needed it.

Meanwhile, in his dimly lit office, Silco poured himself another glass of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled in his hand as he leaned back in his chair, exhaling heavily. He dragged his hand down his face, his gloved fingers brushing over the sharp lines of his jaw. It was a moment before he realized what he was doing—his touch lingering too long, wishing it were someone else's. He scowled at his own reflection in the polished surface of his glass, the ghost of a sneer crossing his lips.

"What is wrong with me?" he muttered, his voice low and rough. He drained the whiskey in one swift motion, the amber liquid burning down his throat, slamming the glass down with a sharp clink.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and letting his head fall into his hands. Why? Why did he keep surrounding himself with such unstable people? First Jinx—brilliant but chaotic, like a whirlwind of color and destruction. And now Y/N—so fragile in some ways, yet deceptively resilient. Both of them had this uncanny ability to stir something within him, something he thought he'd long drowned out under all of the smoke and alcohol.

And yet... Silco found himself drawn to them. Maybe it was their instability, their brokenness. Or maybe it was the way they both clawed their way through life, refusing to crumble despite the weight of their own demons. He liked them for it. No, he needed them for it.

He thought of Y/N in particular. The change in him over the past weeks hadn't gone unnoticed. He smoked less now—not that foul shimmer-infused poison, but something more mundane. He had even started eating more, gradually working his way toward what could almost be called a normal diet. Silco had observed it all with a quiet satisfaction, though he would never admit it out loud. Y/N was getting better.

And Silco didn't want to lose him.

The thought hit him like a blow to the chest, and he straightened in his chair, his sharp eyes narrowing as if he could banish the vulnerability creeping into his mind. But it lingered, coiling around his thoughts like smoke. He sighed, standing abruptly and grabbing his coat.

He needed to check on them.

The walk to the living quarters was quiet, the dim light of the hallway casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly. Silco's footsteps were near silent, but his presence was commanding as he approached the room where Jinx and Y/N were. He paused in the doorway, leaning slightly against the frame.

Inside, Jinx was curled up on the couch, her breathing soft and even. Y/N lay on the floor nearby, one arm tucked under his head and the other resting loosely by his side. Even in sleep, his body seemed attuned to Jinx, ready to wake at the slightest sign of her distress.

For a long moment, Silco simply watched them. The sight tugged at something deep inside him—a yearning he could quite name but wished not to. He'd always imagined himself as Jinx's protector, her guiding hand in a chaotic world. But now, with Y/N in the picture, he saw something he couldn't provide.

The warmth. The tenderness.

It was something he longed to feel directed at himself, but he knew better than to hope for such things. Silco lived in a world of power and control, not affection. And yet, standing there in the doorway, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be part of that small, fragile moment.

He clenched his jaw, pulling himself away from the thought. It wasn't his place. He adjusted his coat, his sharp gaze lingering on Y/N for a moment longer.

"You're a fool," he muttered under his breath, turning away and heading back to his office. But as he walked, he couldn't shake the image of them from his mind—or the strange, aching domestic desire that came with it.

Silco returned to his office after leaving Jinx and Y/N behind, the faint warmth of that scene still lingering in his mind. He shrugged off his coat and sank into his chair, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. The amber liquid gleamed under the low light, a brief distraction from the ache in his chest. He drank deeply, letting the burn trail down his throat, hoping it would quiet his thoughts.

But it didn't.

He couldn't stop replaying that moment in his head—the two of them asleep, their bond so effortless, so genuine. It was something he had never allowed himself to imagine, something he had convinced himself he didn't need. And yet, the yearning was there, gnawing at him, unrelenting.

By the time the bottle was nearly empty, the room was spinning slightly, and Silco could feel exhaustion pulling at him. He leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest, and let his eyes close. Sleep came, though it was restless, haunted by fragmented dreams of a life that would never be his.

At about 4 a.m., Y/N stirred awake. The room was quiet, save for Jinx's soft breathing. She had slept peacefully for once, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a small pang of relief. Carefully, he rose from his spot on the floor, stretching out the stiffness in his back before gathering his things. He had to return to Singed's lab—there was still work to be done.

Before leaving, though, something compelled him to check on Silco.

He padded silently to the office, the door slightly ajar. Inside, Silco was slumped in his chair, his head tilted back and his breathing slow. The nearly empty whiskey bottle sat on the desk beside him, and the faint scent of alcohol lingered in the air. Y/N hesitated for a moment, debating whether to leave, but something about the sight of him—so unguarded, so human—kept him there.

Without thinking too much, Y/N grabbed a blanket from a nearby shelf and draped it gently over Silco's shoulders. He stood there for a moment, looking down at the man who so often seemed untouchable. Now, he looked almost vulnerable. On an impulse, Y/N fetched a glass of water, setting it on the desk within reach.

As he turned to leave, he couldn't help but ask himself why he was doing this. Silco was harsh, calculating, and cold. But in moments like this, Y/N could see something beneath the surface—something he didn't quite understand but couldn't ignore.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Silco had been awake the entire time. The sound of the door opening had roused him, but he'd kept his eyes shut, curious to see what would happen. He felt the weight of the blanket settle over him and heard the soft clink of the glass being placed on the desk.

And then he heard Y/N's footsteps retreating.

Silco opened his eyes slowly, his gaze falling on the glass of water. His hand reached for the blanket, his fingers brushing over the fabric as a small, unbidden smile crept onto his face. The gesture was simple, but it carried a warmth he hadn't felt in years.

For a long moment, Silco sat there, staring at the door Y/N had left through. His mind swirled with conflicting emotions—gratitude, confusion, and something dangerously close to hope. He let out a quiet, bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair.

"These two," he murmured to himself. "They're going to be the death of me."

The thought was half-serious, half-resigned. Whether it was Jinx's wild unpredictability or Y/N's quiet compassion, Silco knew they were drawing him into a world he wasn't prepared for. But as he leaned back in his chair, the faint smile still lingering on his lips, he realized he didn't entirely mind.

For now, he allowed himself to savour the warmth of the blanket and the kindness it represented. Sleep came easier this time, though his thoughts remained tangled in the chaos and comfort Y/N and Jinx brought into his life.

[sketch-owl]

All About the Joker Post!

Hello fellow Tumblr users, if you’ve stumbled across this wall of text congrats! You love and enjoy Batman content just as much as I do. This is a dedicated lore dump all about the one and only Joker as he exists in my Batman AU.

If this is the first one you’re reading, here’s a bit of backstory: This AU has existed in my brain for many years, though in true writer fashion I haven’t properly written it all out. Though eventually, I intend to make this into a work of fiction with chapters and everything. For now though, I have managed to write out all of our major characters’ backstories.

Before delving right in you should know that this story has dark themes that take place within the story and content that can be triggering, so if you are sensitive to those please read with caution or skip this one altogether. Mental health takes first place over silly Batman characters.

⚠️ Trigger warning for:

Death

Torture

Murder

Jack Napier aka the Joker had a loving and supportive family growing up, living a life of privilege. Both his mother and father had successful careers, his father working in software engineering and his mother owning her own business selling home-made baked goods and doing custom catering orders for large events. Jack was an only child, but he had no shortage of his mother’s undivided attention. He would often help her in the kitchen with measuring ingredients and adding them into bowls, and in between baking times they would play pretend in their living room. Jack loved baking with his mom, developing a love for everything sweet from an early age. But what he loved even more was playing theater, where he would stand on stage (the couch) with hundreds watching (his mom). He would throw plays where he would act every part, and the audience would add in the sound effects. The clapping of horse hoofs in his old western play, the creaking of a basement door in his scary monster play, and the dramatic punches of a hero fighting the villain in his superhero play.

In school, theater was also his favorite. The singing, the dancing, the costumes, he wanted to do it all. He would often practice his lines on his classmates during other subjects, or try out his new jokes on the teacher, earning him the title of class clown. He had dreamed of growing up and becoming a famous comedian or actor. Though between the ages of 16 and 17 that dream had changed.

His father had died suddenly and tragically in a car accident, falling asleep at the wheel as he was on his way home from a long night at work. The car veered off the road, striking a light post and rolling down the sloped landscape several meters before stopping. The accident was just minutes away from home. Jack and his mother watched from the window as an ambulance and several police cars went by. His mother convinced herself that it was nothing to worry about, whatever was going on didn’t need her concern. When her husband didn’t return at the normal time, she told herself that he must have been held up by the accident, that was all. He would be home safe soon. She stayed up all night waiting for him, praying. There would be a knock on the door early the following morning. Jack had crawled out of bed at the noise, peeking his head into the front room. His mother answered the door, wiping the tired from her eyes. Two police officers stood on the other side. One of the officers spoke quietly, something Jack couldn’t make out. His mother screamed and collapsed to the ground before the officer could continue. Jack rushed to her, holding her, and that’s when he heard it. His dad had died. The officer did his best to explain what happened. His mother wailed hysterically while Jack sat quietly, hugging her.

From that moment forward things had changed in their home. His mother had closed her baking business and found a job as a server in order to make ends meet. At first there was a period of time where his mother was constantly angry. She would cry and yell and rant about how stupid his father was to fall asleep while driving. He should have gone to a hotel. How could he leave her and his son like this. It wasn’t fair. She had planned out her whole life with him, and now she was left alone to pick up the pieces. His mother’s short fuse was often directed at her son. If he was falling behind in his academics in favor of doing theater, she would scream at him about how she already had a heavy burden to bear, and how disappointed his father would have been if he were here.

Jack decided the following year of school that he would drop theater as a class. He devoted a majority of his time to studying and greatly improved his GPA. Outside school he would also start working a part-time job, and help with a majority of the house chores. The house would always be clean when his mother came home. Eventually the anger and resentment his mother had went down, though she did not go back to her old happy self like Jack hoped. Her spirit was gone, only a shell of her remaining. Baking was the thing that had brought her so much joy, and now she had ordered takeout for every meal. But Jack couldn’t blame her. She had been through so much that the only thing he could do was be the support that she was missing.

After graduating, Jack had excitedly announced to his mother that he decided to pursue engineering. Not quite the same career that his father had, but it was within a similar field. He took her hands while trying his best to contain himself. This news was only half of the surprise that he had been holding onto, and the other half was something he had been wanting to do for his mom for a long time.

With a wide grin on his face, he said that he also was planning to move out to Gotham, the most technologically advanced city and then begin his career as an intern at Wayne Tech. He already had a place picked out that he would be renting, a spacious apartment in a good area of West Gotham with an amazing view over the city. He asked her if she would move with him. The apartment had two rooms and one bath, and a good sized kitchen. It would be perfect for her to do any baking or cooking just like she did before. She didn’t need to keep working her server job anymore, because as soon as he was done with university and his intern program he would bring enough money for the both of them. She could retire early and best of all, he would be right there to take care of her.

He was holding her hands close to his chest, eyes bright as he laid out his plans for the next several years. He beamed about how he was going to be at the forefront of technology innovation, and be a part of a massive team of incredibly intelligent people. As he spoke her expression didn’t change. After he was done, he waited for her response. She looked away from her son, shaking her head.

She said in a soft voice that she had lived in the same home for decades. All of her happiest memories were attached to the house. Marrying the love of her life, raising him, starting her business. While it was thoughtful of him to think of her, she couldn’t just uproot her life on a dime. Jack’s smile slowly fell. He told her that it was alright if she didn’t want to decide right now, saying that she could think about it. She pulled her hands away, saying that she was deciding right now, and her answer was no. Jack insisted that she reconsider then, saying that when he makes it at Wayne Tech she could start her baking business again and make new happy memories. She said that she didn’t want to go back to baking. That dream had passed a long time ago, but that didn’t mean he needed to hold himself back from reaching his dream. If he wanted to go be an engineer then he could do that without her.

Jack looked at his feet. He breathed deeply, holding in the emotions that threatened to spill over. He said that he didn’t want to go anywhere without her. Gotham city was on the opposite side of the country, and if something were to happen to her he wouldn’t be able to help her. She looked back at him. She said that if anything happened to her, then he would be ok.

Over the course of the following month, Jack had packed up his life into boxes. His belongings would be traveling by a moving truck while he and a backpack would be traveling by train. He hugged his mom tightly the day of his departure like it would be the last time, and then set off for a new life.

It took several days before he finally crossed into Ohio, then soon after he was at the Gotham Bay docks. Since Gotham was a series of islands that floated in the mid-section of Ohio, he would then need to board a ship to make it the rest of the way. The weather during the trip had shifted drastically from the hot humidity of Florida to the cold dryness of the northern states. It would take him some getting used to. The wind whipped through him as the ship moved steadily forward through dense clouds of fog. He wondered to himself how the captain of the ship knew where he was going, but then he saw it. Small lights in the far distance. Gotham city was so bright that you could find it even in the fog.

The ship pulled into the East Gotham docks. From a distance Gotham looked small in comparison to the rocky waters that surrounded it. But as they drew closer, the buildings on the island grew larger. Jack felt so tiny but so captivated. He had never been outside his home town before except for trips to the beach, and now here he was, standing before this massive and beautiful city. Despite it being dark and cloudy, the island seemed to glow with lights coming from buildings and signs and billboards with screens.

The people around him began to shuffle off of the ship and Jack followed along with the flow of traffic. He knew where to go, but looking around him he also didn’t at the same time. His sense of direction and confidence had been ripped out from under him the moment he stepped onto the train back home. Though everyone ahead of him seemed to know where they were going, as large groups of people filtered into a line to go down a flight of stairs that disappeared under the cobblestone walkway.

Making his way down, he was met with a place that was just as large as the boat docks he got off from, but more grandiose. It reminded him of an underground town square, as this place was bustling with people that arrived on other vessels. The walls were made of brick and held candle holders which lit the space, as well as chandeliers overhead. In the middle of the large open area were deep trenches that stretched across the room and into tunnels through the back wall. Jack looked at them puzzled, though it wasn’t a moment later before a train with a sleeker style came through the tunnel and slowed to a stop with steam hissing off its body. The world’s first ever subway. Jack tried to hold back his excitement but couldn’t help but jump giddily, a wide grin on his face. Some people around him gave him odd looks, but he didn’t care. This was the coolest thing he’s ever seen.

Looking at a nearby map board, Jack figured out which train he needed to take and which stop he needed to exit off of to get to the far side of the island. From there he would need to board another vessel to take him to West Gotham. Though after arriving at his destination, he was looking around confusedly. There was meant to be another travel ship at this dock but there was only a shipyard where goods and trade are delivered and sent out.

He went to ask someone who was walking out from the subway, but they only sneered at him in response and kept walking. Perhaps he was at the wrong dock. He was taking another look at his map when a strange sound caught his attention. His eyes shifted up towards it, and peeking out from the clouds in the sky slowly moving through the air was what he could only comprehend as a skyship. Jack would later learn that it was called a blimp. Forget the subway, this was the coolest thing he’s ever seen.

In complete awe and wonderment he watched the blimp descend down onto a landing platform a few blocks away. The flying ship was just as big as the city buildings surrounding it, and when he went to board it there were close to a hundred people on board. The inside of the blimp didn’t have much for seating, just a few benches for the elderly and disabled. Everyone else was standing, which had Jack worried. He made a beeline to the wall which had large windows going all the way around the room. When the blimp was set to rise in the air, Jack pressed his back against the wall and prepared to be shaken. Though nothing happened. He opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder at the window. They were slowly rising upwards getting lighter like a balloon being blown up. The ground got further and further away, until eventually it disappeared underneath low hanging clouds. He could feel the pressure in his head shifting as it entered the higher atmosphere, a feeling he was not used to. The blimp slowed to a stop for a few moments before moving forward, the sound of soft whirring kicking on as the propeller blades on the ship sprung to life.

The ship moves in a counterclockwise direction going from island to island he came to find out later. From East Gotham they went to South Gotham, then West Gotham. Much like a train making stops, he stayed onboard until he reached West. The entire trip he was looking out the window, taking in as much as the weather would allow. The sight of the city from this height was beautiful.

Upon landing, he tracked down the nearest subway station and caught one that would take him closest to his apartment. It was a bit of a walk after departing the train, but Jack didn’t mind. He got to look around on ground level what would be his new home, getting to know the street names and nearby shops. While walking, he noticed there were a lot of cars and traffic on the road. It was a lot of traffic in his experience at least. He wondered why everyone in Gotham couldn’t walk to their destinations, it seemed much easier and quicker, especially with the subways and blimp.

Finally at last he arrived at the apartment complex. This was where he would be staying for the foreseeable future, at least until he gets hired full time at Wayne Tech and starts saving his money for a house. A thought had crossed his mind as he stepped inside the landlord’s office to retrieve his key. Once he got a house he could ask his mom again to move in with him. Perhaps the idea of living in an apartment turned her off to it, but a nice house and him being financially successful could change her mind. He pushed that thought away for now though, greeting the landlord behind the desk. His moving truck should be coming in by the end of the day, so he had some time to kill.

He spent the rest of the day sightseeing, visiting the park, browsing the shops, grabbing food and sweets. Wherever his eyes were drawn he followed. When it started to get late he headed back to the apartment. His mind was buzzing with excitement still from it all, though he felt his feet drag behind him exhausted from travel. Surely he would be able to wind down enough to sleep while unpacking his bedding. He went to the landlord’s office, though the lights were turned off. A sign was posted in the window: hours 8am - 8pm closed on Sundays. Jack scratched his head. This shouldn’t be a problem, he could simply go check the back parking lot himself for the moving truck.

Going around the building, Jack had checked all around the place with no truck in sight. Perhaps his things were moved into his room already. He didn’t ask them to do that, but it’s possible. He went up to his apartment room, unlocking the door with his key. He hasn’t been inside the room yet, and while excited to see it in person he was first looking for a pile of boxes. Swinging the door open, he was met with nothing. The apartment was empty. He laughed nervously. Ok, don’t panic. Just call the moving company and see what’s going on before jumping to conclusions.

He took a breath and went around the rooms, finding the home landline phone. It had taken a while before he could get a hold of someone. He anxiously tapped his foot while waiting to hear where the truck was. The front desk clerk had finally returned and said that the truck with his things was running behind, and instead of arriving by today it was going to arrive a few days later. His heart sank. All he had was what he brought with him on the train. That night he slept on the floor, using his bag as a pillow.

Before he knew it the sun was rising and he barely slept. His back was stiff as he pushed himself up, moving over to the window. While watching the sunrise, he went over in his mind what he needed to do that day. His first semester at college will be starting next week and he needs to get books and supplies. He also needs to attend orientation tomorrow. But first things first, he was hungry. A few donuts and a shower later and he was off to the nearest book store.

Gathering up the books that were required by the school and a few other supplies like notebooks and pencils, he brought everything up to the register. He reached into his bag to retrieve his wallet. He couldn’t find it though with the amount of things he had packed into it, so he apologized to the store clerk and pulled some of the stuff out of the bag. His wallet must have fallen to the bottom. He pulled everything out, searched every pocket, patted down his pants. He couldn’t find it anywhere. His wallet was missing.

He left the store empty handed. He shook his head at himself. How could he be so careless as to misplace his wallet? It had to be at the apartment, maybe it fell out of his bag. A quick jog back home and a look around the place turned up nothing. There was only one conclusion left. He had been robbed. Jack cursed to himself. The cash that was in the wallet was as good as gone, but most of his money was still on his card. He went downstairs and phoned the bank, placing a hold on his card and requesting a new one. Though it would take some time before it would arrive.

He hung up the phone, staring at the wall of the apartment lobby. What was he going to do now? He needed money for those books and more importantly food for the week. The snacks he had gotten yesterday would be gone by tomorrow. It was then that something caught his attention. A bulletin board next to the phone. Several flyers were posted, some about service advertising, some about missing persons. But one stood out to him from the rest: a flyer promoting a comedy show at a local bar.

The show was free and just the distraction he needed. After his college orientation, he went to the bar that night. While he wasn’t able to buy himself a drink, he enjoyed himself watching different comedians go up on stage and do their acts. One of the comedians had done a bit where he was interacting with people in the audience, guessing what kind of drink they were having. He then pointed to Jack, asking him if he was having a drink tonight. Jack shook his head, which the comedian booed him for. The guy on stage said that he would have asked if he was the designated driver tonight, but he’s seated alone. So instead he asked why he came to see the show by himself. Jack answered honestly, saying that he’d just got into town. The comedian nodded, welcoming him to Gotham and asked the audience to do the same.

He jokingly asked Jack how the rats had been, which made the bar erupt into laughter. He then asked Jack what made him move to Gotham. Jack said that he was going to be starting college soon. The comedian chuckled and said if that was why he wasn’t drinking tonight, he was a broke college student already.

That jab had struck a nerve in Jack. He was painfully reminded of why he was here seeing this show in the first place. When he had stopped smiling, the comedian said to him to not take himself so seriously. He continued, saying his situation was very common, in fact many people from around the world come into Gotham to attend school. Only difference is they have mommy and daddy paying for everything, and he’s a sorry sap in a bar who can’t afford a drink. The audience laughed. Jack felt himself sink in his chair. He wanted to get up and leave right then and there. Coming to this show was a mistake and he should have just stayed home in his empty and sad apartment.

But then the comedian asked him another question. He asked him what he was going to be studying in college. Jack looked up at him, and without much thought or hesitation he answered ‘How to be a real comedian, unlike you.’

The audience ‘ooooh-ed.’ The comedian looked taken aback, though righted himself quickly. He asked Jack if that was why he was really here, to steal his material. Jack said back that he didn’t need to because his jokes were shit. The comedian brushed him off, saying that the audience clearly disagrees with him. But in any case, he’s not going to entertain hagglers. He then moved on, pointing to another person in the audience to make a guess on what kind of drink they were having. The person he picked had spoken up before he could continue, saying that she wanted to see the college kid on stage. The people around her said they did too. Soon the whole audience was looking at Jack and asking him to show up the other comedian.

What was once a fun comedy night had quickly turned into a battle of comedians, which was arguably more entertaining. Jack got up on stage, his opponent forcing the microphone into his chest before finding a table. The audience stared at him, waiting expectantly. Jack cleared his throat. His mind was blank. He hadn’t been on a stage since he was a kid. He searched his brain for something to say, some introduction joke to get the crowd laughing. But all he could think about was how alone he was. He had moved out to this city to start a life of his own and nothing had gone according to plan. He had no bed, no money, and no mommy or daddy to help him.

He looked at the microphone in his hand. It was then that a realization struck him. He held the microphone up, introducing himself and where he was from. He told the audience that Florida was nothing in comparison to Gotham city, truly. When he was living on his own back home, it took him at least a week before he got robbed. But here it took him less than a day before his wallet was stolen.

He retold the unfortunate series of events, making himself to be this young and dumb college kid that is more book smart than street smart. The audience had ate it up, laughing at every turn of the story and waiting to see what happened next. The final part to his story was how he wound up in the bar, not a penny to his name, being picked on by an asshole on stage. Even the asshole in question was smiling at his table. After his tale was concluded he thanked everyone for coming out tonight, then went back to his seat.

The crowd clapped and cheered, some even shouting that they wanted more. A bar staff member jumped up on stage to calm the energy level down and introduce the next comedian. Jack sighed with relief. Although the audience had loved his performance, he didn’t mean to take over the other guy’s show. Even if it was shit. He was snapped out of his thoughts when a glass was placed down at his table by one of the waitstaff. Jack excused himself, saying that he didn’t order anything and that they had the wrong table. The waiter said that someone else had bought him the drink, then went on their way. He looked back at the glass. A smile spread across his face. He sipped on the drink while watching the rest of the show.

Once the show had concluded, the bar staff had gone on the stage one last time to remind the audience to tip the comedians and waiters if they liked what they saw and wanted more. People got up from their seats and began shuffling towards the door. Jack had stayed behind to finish off his drink, getting up from the table after nearly everyone had left.

A bar staff person had come up to him before he went out the door, handing him an envelope. Jack looked at them confusedly, asking what it was. They answered, saying it was the tips he made from the show. Jack looked even more confused, saying he wasn’t a part of the show. The tips should go to the actual performers. He tried to hand the envelope back, but they held their hand up and said that the people requested the money go to him specifically. They continued to say that the bar has comedy shows every weekend, so he was welcome to come by again but as a performer.

Later on when he was back in his apartment, Jack had opened the envelope. There was over a hundred dollars in cash contained inside. He stared at the money in disbelief. He didn’t feel he deserved it, though at the same time performing on that stage was so much fun. Perhaps it wasn’t a mistake after all to attend the show.

The next morning he went out and purchased the supplies he needed, having just enough left over cash to get himself some groceries. When he got back home, the landlord let him know that his moving truck arrived. For the rest of the day he unpacked, setting up everything just as he envisioned it. The last thing he did was his desk where he would be studying and doing homework. In a couple more days he would be a college student at West Gotham University. He just couldn’t wait to get started.

When the day finally arrived, it was everything he dreamed of and more. The university was bustling with students from all over the world. Even some in his class came from as far as New York to attend this school. Jack had felt right at home, surrounded by people who were just as passionate about technology as he was. A bit after starting school he received his replacement card in the mail and he had access to his money again. His funds that he had saved wouldn’t last forever though, and he would need to find a part-time job.

Though at night while he was studying at his desk, or while he was cooking himself dinner, his mind would wander back to the comedy show at the bar. He would daydream often while staring out at the city from his apartment window, thinking about the jokes and stories he could tell on the stage.

He played with the idea in his head of going back. The other comedians might not like him being there on the account that he stole the show from one of them. He couldn’t get the thought out of his head, until eventually one weekend where he just went for it. He went back to the bar and sighed himself up as one of the acts that night.

He was correct in assuming that the others wouldn’t be as welcoming towards him. Some of them made snide comments to him while he was waiting backstage to be called. The same guy that he called out was there as well. When Jack saw him he felt a tinge of guilt. But the man smiled at him, wishing him good luck tonight and that there were no hard feelings. Jack felt instant relief from hearing that, and the anxiety that was building had subsided some.

When it was Jack’s turn on stage, he gave it his all. He used the material that he thought up over the last couple of weeks, and he absolutely knocked it out of the park. He was well received by the audience, and the bar staff called him a natural for being new to the comedy scene. Then at the end of the show he was tipped almost double the amount he was given last time. Jack would continue to perform every weekend, using the show like his part time job. Not only did performing pay his bills, but he also had so much fun doing it. It never felt like a job to him, more like a second dream that came after his first one of being an engineer.

He continued this routine throughout his time in college, taking small breaks here and there when he was able to financially, that way he could allow his creativity to recharge. It was during his final semester that he met someone after one of his shows.

He introduced himself as someone who worked for the city of North Gotham, specifically he was the manager of Amusement Mile. He said that he loved Jack’s performance, saying that he obviously stood out from everyone else there. He could tell he put a lot of thought into how everything is written and structured, and that takes drive which he admired. Saying that he would cut right to the chase, he offered Jack a job opportunity working for him at Amusement Mile doing the same thing he was doing here but being paid much more than tips. His hours were flexible, and he would have full creative freedom to do what he wanted with his act. He didn’t need to make a decision right away, but if he was interested in going bigger to give him a call.

The man handed him a business card, which Jack accepted. He thanked him for enjoying the show, and the man left. He looked down at the card, absolutely stunned. He had known that the audience liked his performance, but he didn’t know he was good enough to be approached by a talent recruiter for a theme park.

While he loved the thought of performing on a proper stage and not in a bar, he wouldn’t have the time to do that after he started his career at Wayne Tech. Before he knew it his graduation day was here, and he was walking across a stage adorned with the tasseled cap and robe to receive his diploma. The feeling was bittersweet. He was the top of his class, his teachers saying he had a bright future ahead of him. Though looking out over all the parents sitting on the sidelines watching their now grown up children complete their final year of school had made him miss his mom that much more. She had already been on his mind that whole day, but now even moreso. His eyes stung with emotion. He inhaled sharply, pushing those thoughts down. He knew she would be proud of him regardless of if she were here to see him or not.

The following day he made preparations to apply to Wayne Tech. He called the front desk and asked if they had an opening for an intern or engineer apprenticeship. The secretary said he could come in for an interview a few days later. When the time came, he traveled over to North Gotham and took the subway to Wayne Tower. While up in the air he could clearly see what building he would be heading to, as it was the largest one on the island and possibly the whole city. Being the biggest landmark, the subway brought him right outside the building. Looking up at the building from this close really puts things into perspective. It was mind bogglingly massive.

The front had a courtyard area with trees, grass, benches, and a water fountain in the center. There were some people sitting outside either working or reading. One person sitting on a bench had their face in a newspaper, and as he passed them by his eyes skimmed over the headline. It was an article about Martha and Thomas Wayne and the recent charity they attended. How Jack wished he could meet the man that started it all, what a dream that would be.

Heading into the main lobby of the building, everything inside was just as ginormous as the outside. Right away everything felt so futuristic. The entryway had the Wayne Tech logo imprinted into the tile floor, and the walls were covered with television screens that displayed various looping photos of the company and its creation. Some photos were from when Wayne Tower was first being built, to now with the CEOs setting up charity events and donating great sums of money.

In the middle of the lobby there was a circle shaped help desk with a team of people working behind it. All of them were busy either answering phone calls or typing out letters on a writer. When he went up to the desk, one of the secretaries welcomed him to Wayne Tech before asking what she could help him with. Jack felt a sudden spike in his anxiety. He needed to make a good first impression with everyone he met here, because all of the people who work at this company know each other. Trying his best to smile normally and not be awkward he said he was here for an interview.

The secretary called one of the managers to let them know he was there, and after a couple minutes someone had come down the stairs and greeted him. She had him follow her to an upstairs office where she took a seat at the desk and he sat down across from her. This was it. This was his moment to secure a spot at the best company to work for. This needed to be his best performance yet. He needed to make his mom proud. His dad proud. The anxiety had moved up into his throat by this point. He couldn’t help but wring his hands together in his lap. He could feel his heart beating against his chest. The interview started with the manager asking him how he was. Jack laughed nervously, almost too loudly. He cleared his throat, saying he was good and excited to be here.

Minutes passed by like seconds, and just like that the interview was over. The manager had asked him all the usual questions that interviews ask. What made you interested in working for this company, what are your qualifications, what department are you interested in, what are some things about yourself, can you work in a team with other people. Jack had practiced answering these questions in his head several times leading up to this moment. At the end he felt very good about how it went. He knew he absolutely nailed it out of the park. His answers were spot on, he had the starting qualifications for an internship, and the manager seemed to like him. All he had to do now was wait for them to call him and say that he was hired.

So he waited. And waited. And waited some more. Over the weekend where he normally would go to the bar to perform, he opted to stay home on the chance that Wayne Tech would call him. Two weeks had passed by and he hadn’t heard anything. The doubt was eating away at him. What if he thought he did good but actually bombed it. He couldn’t take the uncertainty anymore. He called Wayne Tech’s help desk and asked for the status of his application. The secretary on the other end went to look for it. When she returned, she told him that there wasn’t a position open at this time for an engineer intern but they would keep him in mind for when the position opens up.

Jack’s heart sank to the bottom of his chest. He was so racked with emotion he didn’t think to ask her when the position would be open, he simply thanked her and hung up. He put the phone back on the receiver. He walked up the stairs to his apartment. He closed the door behind him. He looked over at the window in his living room. The view he had over the city. He sat down on his couch. He looked at the windows in all the other buildings for as far as he could see and how they lit up the island like stars in the sky. He buried his head in his hands and sobbed.

What was he to do now? He came to this city wanting to be at Wayne Tech. He went to school, worked hard, spent late nights studying, and earned his degree. But he was expected to wait around until they had room for him. The whole reason for him leaving home was to be an engineer at this company. He wasn’t even sure at this point if they would hire him even when the position did open. He was at an utter loss. He wanted so badly to call his mom. He missed her so much. Having her there made him feel safe. Like he could fall and she’d be there to catch him. They went through some hard times together, but she had still been there for him even if it wasn’t emotionally. But a part of him didn’t want to disappoint her. Telling her that he failed would make him feel even worse.

Eventually he had laid down in bed. His eyes had glanced over to his nightstand. The business card the man from the bar had given to him was resting on top. A thought had entered his mind, though he pushed it away immediately, it being too absurd to even consider. As he tried to sleep off the heavy weight that was resting on top of him, he kept returning to the thought. It was pestering him almost. Being an entertainer at Amusement Mile sounded fun and the man made it seem like he would be doing the same thing but with more perks. But he had no clue what he’d actually be signing up for. A theme park was far bigger than a mere bar. His act would need to be different to capture the attention of a much larger audience, all of different ages and backgrounds.

Despite being so exhausted that night, he tossed and turned. He fought with himself on what to do next and whether or not that was the right thing. He didn't want his money to have been wasted on a degree he was never going to use, but he also needed money that this performing job could potentially give him. He didn't want to disappoint his mom by becoming a clown act, but also he didn't know how long it would be before Wayne Tech decided to hire him. He was torn. While restlessly looking up at the ceiling, he had thought back to a time when he was this indecisive. His dad had told him that if he ever found himself torn, the best answer was either neither choice or both choices. Early the next morning he came to a final decision. He would do both.

He picked up the business card and gave the number on it a call. The new plan would be to see if he liked Amusement Mile, and if all goes well he would work the job until Wayne Tech hired him. He also planned to call them once every month to check in on his application and if the position opened. It had been awhile since Jack had met the man who gave him the card, but after introducing himself over the phone the man remembered him instantly. He said Jack could call him Jefferson or Jeff for short, and invited him to come over to Amusement Mile for a tour and chat whenever he was ready.

Jack went to go meet him that same day. Much like how Florida is known for being the home of Disney World, Gotham is also known for being the home of Amusement Mile, a massive carnival styled theme park on North Gotham. While flying over, Jack couldn't help but look out the window at Wayne Tower. He tried not to dwell on his thoughts, instead focusing on what questions he wanted to ask Jeff. Like before, after the blimp landed Jack rode the subway to the Northernmost side of the island. Not only is Amusement Mile the name of the park, but it’s also the name of the district with the actual park being one section of it on the edge of the beach.

Jeff had met him at the front entrance of the park, welcoming him in. It was still morning so Jack wasn’t expecting the park to be busy, but after Jeff started to show him around there was actually a sizable amount of people. There were rides and games of course, all typical of a regular carnival. But there were also live shows, band concerts, vendors, and an entire zoo. It was like a fair that was here all year long. The place was much bigger than Jack was anticipating, making this job even more intimidating. But as he and Jeff were walking he explained that Jack would be working in the big top tent where they host live shows.

They headed inside the tent, which was more like an auditorium. The place was arranged in a big circle with the stage in the center and the seats were raised bleachers that went all the way around. Instead of facing the audience in front of him, Jack would need to constantly be turning around as he was performing. Jack could feel his palms starting to sweat. He laughed nervously, the sound jumping out of his chest like a squeaking mouse. Jeff told him not to worry, adjusting to the style of seating is actually a lot easier than he’s thinking. He also needn’t worry about straining his voice, he said while walking over to the far back of the tent. He picked up what looked to be a microphone from behind a table, but it was much smaller with a headband attached to it.

At the end of the tour, Jack got to meet some of the other performers that had come in to do their show that morning, as well as the sound team. Jeff said that he was welcome to stick around and get to know everyone around the park, and after the show he could use the empty tent to practice. Jack smiled and thanked him. His heart was beating so fast that he couldn’t focus on much else. He sat down on the bleachers for a few minutes to catch his breath, feeling entirely overwhelmed by it all. What was wrong with him? He used to be so comfortable on a stage and now just the thought of getting up on this one is terrifying to him.

While trying to rationalize to himself, people began to filter into the tent. A few early birds turned into crowds of people, and soon every seat was taken. He wanted to leave and get away from the noise, though he decided against that. It would be rude of him to miss the show after meeting the performers, and he wanted to start off on the right foot this time.

The show involved a group of clowns doing comedy improv skits. They would call on audience members to randomly change something about the scene, either it be a prop, setting, or character that the performer was acting out. The show devolved into a hilarious chaotic mess, with the group just rolling with whatever the chosen audience members shouted out. Jack had forgotten all about feeling anxious, being absolutely captivated and laughing along with the people around him. Seeing the clowns freely jump from one idea to the next had given him so much inspiration for his own show. He could do anything, it didn't need to standup. He could start new and be anything he wanted, the only limits being that it needed to be age appropriate for kids. He would go home and get right to work.

Jack's first show at Amusement Mile would be at night when the amount of guests would be at their highest. He was nervous still, but breathed through it, reassuring himself that he would be alright. He could do this. He was getting ready in one of the dressing rooms next to the big top tent. He looked at himself in the mirror. You're alright, you can do this, he said to himself. There was a knock on the door, startling him out of his pep talk. Jeff was on the other side. He said he just wanted to check in with him and let him know that he had 5 minutes before showtime. He smiled and said that Jack looked fantastic. Jack thanked him, saying that he hoped the audience liked him too. Jeff reassured him that they absolutely will. He was going to knock their socks off. And he did.

When Jack stepped onto the stage, he was dressed from head to toe in a full colorful clown outfit. He had painted his face a traditional white with a red nose, lips, and tear drops under his eyes. He also tried to dye his hair blue but it ended up coming out as green, which he ended up liking way better. He took a dramatic bow in front of the audience, introducing himself as Jack the Joker.

The first half of his act started as standup, something he was familiar and comfortable with. He played the character of Joker, a goofy but mischievous clown who had been destined to be a prince but ran away from his life of luxury to follow his dream of spreading laughter and joy. As his persona he told stories to the audience with jokes sprinkled in. The ending would always tie back into the start of the story somehow, making a funny and satisfying conclusion. Then the second half of his act involved magic tricks. Jack had begun to teach himself how to do them, but it was taking him a while to perfect them. So instead the joke was that he was terrible at magic and his tricks would backfire on him. For this he would use firecrackers and sparklers, his simple card trick 'exploding' and making a huge mess across the stage.

At the end of the show he took a bow, making sure to rise up, turn around and bow again so he faced everyone. The crowd was the loudest one that he's ever gotten. Everyone, especially the kids were clapping and screaming and shouting for him to do one more trick. Hearing that, he decided that he could do one more. He said to the audience that for his last trick he would make himself disappear, and he was triple sure that this time it would actually work. He had saved some extra pyrotechnics in his jacket just in case the sparklers didn't light. He waved his arms around, shouting the magic pun-filled phrase before letting loose a smoke bomb. Just like that he had vanished. The kids went nuts.

Needless to say, the show went off without a hitch. Jack the Joker's show continued to be the most popular event to see at Amusement Mile. People of all ages came to watch, and each one was a different experience than the last. Jack would spend all of his free time coming up with new ideas and writing new material. The years had sped by like minutes. He had become so successful that he never thought about going back to Wayne Tech and asking to be an intern. Not when he had his face on a billboard advertising the park.

In that time he had improved greatly with his magic tricks and picked up more and more to use for his shows, only to intentionally have them fail spectacularly, though making it seem like it was accidental. Along the way Jeff had been a guiding hand to him. The pair had gotten to be very close, and often they would sit in the dressing room or big tent and work on their separate things. Occasionally Jack would run an idea by him, and Jeff would ask him his opinion on how to improve the park or tackle a problem. Then after another successful show they both would celebrate by going out to eat.

Jack was financially comfortable enough to where he could get himself a house, and then ask his mom if she would move in with him. That was always the plan, though he hasn't called her once since moving to Gotham. He had been too much of a coward to, backing out at the last minute out of fear of what she would say. He's gone over it in his head probably hundreds of times. How he would tell her everything leading up to him being successful as a performer. Perhaps she would be genuinely happy for him. Perhaps not. The uncertainty of how she'd react left him paralyzed to follow through with it. In his mind, if he kept putting off buying a house, then he never had to make that phone call.

He was thinking about it even now as he was wrapping up for the evening after another show. He just needed to do it. Like ripping off a bandaid. Jeff had poked his head in the dressing room, praising him for an amazing show and asking if he wanted to grab dinner. After the park's gates were closed the two of them walked out together, as they usually did. They both laughed about how funny the kids in the audience were that night, with their mouths held agape when Jack did his magic tricks.

Jeff told him how lucky he was to have stumbled across him that night at the bar. He had been out with some friends who lived in West Gotham and they wanted to grab some drinks. By pure luck and chance he met one of the funniest and most talented guys that he's had the pleasure of calling a friend. Jack smiled at him, saying he also felt lucky. When the plan he made for his life wasn't panning out, he had taken a leap of faith not knowing where he would land. Jack had owed it to him for believing he would make it, and encouraged him to keep going.

After they had dinner the pair went their separate ways. That would be the last time Jack would see Jeff. The following day Jack had gone to the park to do some writing for his next show. When he walked up to the front gates, the staff person behind the ticket booth had called him over. She asked him if he had heard yet. His confused response let her know that he hadn’t yet. She lowered her voice to a very soft tone, telling him that Jefferson had passed away last night.

After Jeff had gotten home last night he suffered a major heart attack. His neighbors had gone to check on him that morning because his normally quiet and sweet dog wouldn’t stop barking. When the paramedics arrived he was already gone and there was nothing they could do. The staff woman apologized to him, saying that she knew they both were close. She added that the park would be open today, but tomorrow it would be closed until a new manager is appointed by the owner of the park. Jack thanked her for telling him. He thought he should say more, but his voice had hung up in his throat. He needed to leave. He needed to leave right now, but his feet felt like cinder blocks firmly planted on the ground. The woman must have seen the hurt on his face because she told him that Jefferson had been in a long battle with his health, though he hid it from everyone. He never wanted others to worry about him. He was the kind of person that always wanted to lift you up, and he came into work everyday to do just that.

He thanked her again and turned to leave, forcing his feet to carry him back home. Without Jeff at the park Jack had no reason to be there outside his normal showtime. He tried to hold in his emotions until he got back to his apartment but was quickly failing. His heart ached. The suddenness of it all had made his mind go blank. He didn’t know if he should continue on like he had before, or cancel his next week’s show. The only thing on his mind was how could this have happened. If he had known, if he had seen the signs, maybe he could have been there to help him. He could have gotten the paramedics faster and they would have had more time to save his life. It was only after he stepped through his door that the realization finally hit him. He had just lost his best friend. He sobbed long and hard.

Jack had taken a few days to just do nothing. He decided during that time he would do the show coming up if the park was open. Jeff would have wanted him to keep going. But when he sat down to write he had trouble focusing. His head still felt like mush. Nothing he wrote down sounded good. He looked back through his old jokes and ideas for inspiration, but that spark that he once had wasn’t there. He knew he needed more time to clear his head, though he forced himself to continue anyway. He wasn’t happy with the end result, but it was the best that he could come up with.

The day before his show he went over to the park to see if it was open, which to Jack’s slight disappointment it was. He went over to the staff person at the ticket booth, which was a different person than last time he was here. He asked them if there was a new manager for the park. Not yet, the guy said, but in the meantime the owner was here keeping the place running.

Jack felt slightly relieved by that. Of course he would eventually have a new boss, but replacing Jeff this early felt too soon. It was already hard enough going into a performance and putting on a brave face. While he was there he might as well rehearse his show. Going inside, he went to the big top tent. There wouldn't be another show for a couple hours so he would have the place to himself. He began to walk through his lines like usual, improving some jokes to see if it sounded better. But as he continued he just wasn't into it. What he wrote wasn't landing in the same way it did before, and he wasn't sure why. Everything about it just felt wrong.

He tossed the book to the side, too frustrated to look at it anymore. He needed to come up with an entirely new act before his show tomorrow night, and he was at a loss of what to do. If Jeff were here he would have bounced ideas off of him. But he wasn't here. He needed to do it on his own.

A small voice had startled Jack out of his thoughts. He turned his head and a young looking girl was standing in the entrance way of the tent. She asked him if he was using the space. He shook his head no, hopping off the stage. She thanked him and got up. As he turned to leave, the girl asked him if he was done for the day. Jack said that he was just giving her space to do her thing. She nodded, looking down timidly. He had gotten to the entrance before the girl spoke again, asking if he didn't mind being her audience while she practiced, as she had found it hard to talk with no one there. Jack said he didn't mind at all, and walked back over to a seat.

As the girl did her act, Jack had given her some tips and suggestions on how to improve upon it. The main thing was her confidence. Jack said that he himself gets nervous before every show, but putting on a character helps him find that larger voice. Her character could just be her, but bigger and bolder. By the end of the rehearsal she could project her voice a lot louder and clearer, and her stiff movements were more free and natural. She felt a lot better with her performance, and gave him many thank yous.

Jack wished her good luck and went home for the day to write. For his show he ended up using more magic tricks than standup, that way the audience wouldn't pay as much attention to his jokes. The people loved him all the same, but he couldn't help but feel guilty. The audience deserved to have nothing but the best from him and he didn't deliver that. He sat in his dressing room taking off his makeup. He looked at himself in the mirror, half of his clown face wiped away.

There was a light knock on his door. A voice on the other side asked if Jack was there. He cleared his throat, acknowledging that he was. The voice apologized for interrupting him, but they came to tell him that the owner of the park wanted to speak to him. Jack froze in place. The owner wanted to talk to him? Instantly his mind began to race. His show didn't go well like it normally does and the owner wanted to talk to him. He quite possibly could be fired over this.

As he finished changing into his normal clothes, the dread was setting in. If he went home now he wouldn't be reprimanded for how horribly his act had gone. He could just skip past it like nothing had happened. But if he did that he would be in even worse trouble. As he grappled with himself on what to do, the decision was made for him. He heard someone call his stage name. He looked over and it was a taller man dressed in formal attire.

Jack smiled politely, walking over to him. The man introduced himself as the owner of the park and said that he'd been wanting to meet him. The owner asked to walk with him. Jack felt his heart beating out of his chest. He could tell just looking at the owner's expression that he was not happy. He swallowed, following the owner next to him as they walked around the park.

The owner started off by thanking Jack for putting on such an amazing show for the past several years. The amount of guests visiting the park had exploded in numbers, all to see his show. Jack nodded quietly, thanking him. The owner continued, saying that running an entire theme park was never easy. He had worked with Jefferson for a very long time to keep everything in the park safe and fun for all ages. But it was people like Jack that really kept the place open. Guests crave to see new and exciting things, and Jack has consistently done that.

They had stopped in front of one of the rides, brightly glowing with florescent lights as it spun around. The owner said that Jack could very well keep doing his thing, being a colorful character on stage. But he wanted to offer him an opportunity to help him that much more in overseeing the park as its new manager.

Jack looked at him dumbfounded. The owner laughed, saying that he knows it's sudden but to just hear him out on it before making a decision. Not only did Jefferson speak very highly to him of Jack and his problem solving skills, but he also had been looking for someone who could work well with others and keep spirits up just like Jeff did. The other day while he was there he had spoken to someone who said that Jack helped them improve their confidence. They said he listened to them, was kind and patient, and gave them helpful advice.

If he accepted the offer, the owner said he would train him himself on how to do everything involved with running the park. Customer service, safety inspections, budgeting, scheduling, everything. He also didn't have to give up being a performer either, even with all this new responsibility. The owner would work with him so he had time to write and plan his shows. He could have the best of both worlds. But if it was too much to take on the owner said he understood. It was a lot to ask of him. Finding the right person was like finding hay in a needle stack. If you choose wrong then it could result in major consequences.

Jack couldn't believe it. Just a few short years ago he was starting out as a performer dressed as a clown and now he was offered the position of park manager. The thought of being essentially the boss of everyone was more than a little intimidating. Helping out one performer with their show was one thing, it was an entirely other thing to watch over a hundred employees. This was simply just impossible. Though somehow Jeff found a way to make it work.

The following day he had made the decision to accept the job. For the next 5 or so years he would work hard to fill Jeff's shoes. He would go home everyday constantly exhausted from the work, but to him it was all worth it. He loved helping others and getting to use his creativity and knowledge in engineering to bring to life new ideas for the park.

Guests visiting the park were steadily going up with every new ride and show added. Instead of Jack performing once every week, he would perform once biweekly. One week Jack would have the responsibility of running the park, and the following week the owner would take over for him, only asking Jack to help him with smaller managerial tasks so he had enough time to write for the show.

Though during this time, crime rates in Gotham were also on the rise. A territorial war had begun with several different mafia organizations and the GCPD were struggling to keep up. Not only did this war cause mass amounts of property damage, in some areas even leveling multi-story buildings, but also the casualty count was skyrocketing including both mafia members and innocents caught in the crossfire. The people of Gotham were too scared to leave their homes for fear of being swept up in the chaos happening outside.

As a result of this, Amusement Mile was suffering financially. Tickets being sold were at an all time low to no fault of the park. Jack had figured once everything calmed down and the mafia was dealt with, things would go back to normal. Guests would return to the park and be able to enjoy the new attractions again. But the war had continued and persisted for months on end. Jack had brought the problem to the owner, suggesting that they temporarily close down the park to save on costs. However, the owner was of the opinion that the media were using the mafia for their news stories and making crime activity out to be a bigger issue than it was. Guests were still coming into the park, and it would be unfair to them to close their doors.

Money began to get tighter, and soon Jack was needing to pull money from anywhere he could just to keep the park afloat. Show budgets were cut, ticket and food prices increased, and eventually employees were laid off. It physically hurt when he needed to tell his own people that he couldn’t afford to pay them for their work any longer. The owner still wasn’t budging, insisting that the rates of crime would be handled soon and that they would be ok. Frustrated now more than ever, Jack had dipped into his own savings to stall having to let go more people.

He was lost on what to do. Usually he was able to come up with a solution to any problem, but not this time. They were going to go under and be forced to close and Jack wasn’t able to fix it. At least until he was approached one late night by a man who was waiting outside the park gates for him.

Jack had just finished a show, the tent being less than half full. The owner had pulled him aside afterward, telling him that he had to leave early and that he needed him to close up the park that night. Jack agreed, staying behind and waiting for all the guests to make their way out before locking the gate. As he turned around to head home as well, he came face to face with a man.

Startled out of his skin, he went to take a step back but the man just got closer and grabbed his shirt. He felt something shoved into his side painfully. The man spoke in a low, gruff voice, telling him to be quiet and not to move. Jack threw his hands up to the man’s chest, using all his weight to shove him off. Suddenly he became aware that he was surrounded by a group of men. One of them yanked him back by the hair, another punched him in the gut, causing him to collapse onto the gravel. He rolled onto his side, gasping for air and fighting the urge to throw up. He felt one of the men behind him grab the back collar of his shirt, picking him back onto his feet. The man he had shoved leaned into his face. He told him not to be stupid unless he wanted a bullet in him next, spitting the words as he talked.

Jack couldn’t move even if he wanted to, as his body uncontrollably coughed and convulsed. The man explained that he and his ‘friends’ were going to take his park and claim it as theirs. He was giving him two options: the first is that they break every bone in his body starting with his fingers, and when they’re done hang him out for the crows. The second option was that he tell them where his boss was and they’d think about letting him go. Jack’s heart was beating so fast that the sound was pounding in his ears. He held his hands up and said wait, wait, wait, the words spilling out of his mouth. Shakily he told them he didn’t know where his boss was, as he had left hours earlier. The man tsked. That wasn’t the response he wanted. One of the men took Jack’s hand, picking one of his fingers to bend backwards. Jack shouted for them to stop, there had to be something else he could do. Anything they wanted, they could have it. He just didn’t know where the owner was.

The man motioned for the other thug to stop. He said as a matter of fact, there was something they needed from him. If he paid them a fee they’d set him loose. The amount that he asked for was ridiculously high. Jack said that coming up with that much was impossible. The man shrugged, saying that he was out of luck then. The thug bent his finger back, snapping it with a sickening crack. Jack yelled out painfully, begging them to stop. He didn’t mean it was impossible to get the money, he meant that it was impossible to get it all at once. The money from the park was in a bank account, and he couldn’t withdraw all of it in one day. The man paused, looking hard at him. Jack was lying through his teeth. But the thugs bought it. The man said that he had a week to come up with the money. He warned him not to talk or run, as they’d be watching him. They’d know, and all the people that he works with would join him. After the men left, Jack laid on his back, breathing heavily. What did he just do? What did he just agree to?

As soon as he got home that night, he raced to the phone and called the owner. As the line kept ringing he was looking all around him with his back pressed up against the wall. Jack had called over and over, begging for him to pick up the phone, but there was no answer. No, it couldn’t be. Jack didn’t want to believe it. The owner had left him in the hands of the mafia. He was completely on his own.

He didn’t sleep that night. He had barricaded his door and window with anything and everything he had, but even then he didn’t feel safe. He was terrified that they would come for him because he made that phone call. He just wanted to warn him, but now he wasn't even sure if he was still in Gotham. He sat on the floor of his now empty living room utterly terrified. He didn’t know what to do now. He couldn’t call the police or try to leave, they would skin him alive before he could set foot on a boat and who knows what else they would do to his employees. The money they were asking for he didn’t have. He was barely scraping by with the park. The only thing he thought to do was continue running the park and hope that within a week it was enough.

Jack had gone back to work like nothing had happened. He greeted guests, helped performers with their shows, carrying on like he usually was. But while walking the grounds his eyes were darting everywhere. The men that cornered him that night could be inside the park, watching him, hiding amongst the crowds of people. With every passing day he would count up the money, his hands trembling when the numbers were short yet again. He looked down at his bandaged finger. It pained him to do it, but Jack withheld everyone’s paycheck. When they came to him the following morning asking about it, he lied and told them that there was an error with the bank and that they would be paid soon. He had no idea where he was going to get the money to pay them. In the end, it didn’t matter at all. His week was up and it wasn’t enough.

He had been so focused on getting the money and pretending like everything was fine that he didn’t write for his show. His show, which was so important to him that once upon a time he thought he would be fired over it not being up to par to his normally high standards, had been entirely forgotten. It was the least of his concerns. He only had three quarters of the money after pulling it from everywhere he could think of even lying to his own people. He had prayed to whatever holy force that the men would be satisfied and decide to spare him.

His show that night, the day of his deadline, would be entirely improv. He was getting ready in his dressing room, his hands shaking too much to get the teardrop on his other cheek to look right so he just left it as the one. His mind was spiraling. He hadn’t seen or heard anything about the men since. Perhaps they had forgotten about him, or even better they were killed by one of the other mafia. He breathed through the tightness in his chest. Out of all the places in the park that he’s been, the stage was where he had spent most of his time. That’s where he felt the safest, the audience being with him. He wouldn’t be alone, and that was assuring to him.

He breathed, in and out, focusing on becoming someone else. Someone a lot braver and bolder than he was. He went inside the big top tent, stepping onto the stage, the bright lights shining down on him. He took a bow, the audience clapped. He stood back up and his eyes made contact with someone sitting in with the crowd. It was the leader of that group of men. No, that wasn’t right. It was just someone who looked like the guy. His eyes were playing tricks on him because he was sleep deprived. They wouldn’t be here with all these people around. If they did come looking for him they would have waited for him outside the gates like they had done last time.

They both were looking at each other. The man clapped, a slight smile on his face. Jack the Joker grinned, thanking the audience for coming. He could feel the sweat begin to gather at his head. He had nothing prepared for what to say or do, he simply started talking about whatever came to his mind. He pulled a random story that he had written a long time ago but he never used it because he couldn’t come up with a good ending.

The story was about when he, the Joker, had run away from becoming a prince. He had rode far away from home on a horse. But when he stopped to rest, the horse had run away. He considered himself unlucky. But walking along the path on foot, he came across some farmers who had found his horse, and they were using it to steer their wagon. The farmers gave him a ride, and he considered himself lucky. But then it began to rain very heavily and the path became too muddy to continue. He considered himself unlucky. After it stopped raining, all the water filled a dried up stream bed. He and the farmers used the wagon to float down the river all the way to the next town. He considered himself lucky.

This was where the story had ended. As he was telling it, he thought about what could happen next to wrap it up nicely like all his other stories. But after telling it he realized that the story was perfect the way it was, as though it was always meant to be that way.

Jack used all of the fan favorite magic tricks for the latter half of the show. He produced flowers out of a wand, tossing them to an audience member, pulled apart connected metal rings with a flick of his wrist, and performed a dazzling and comedic light show with firecrackers. Even improvised, the audience loved him. They cheered his name as he took a bow. After everyone had made their way out of the tent, there was one person left.

The man slowly stood, clapping while he approached Jack on stage. The man said that he was impressed. He’d seen nothing quite like it before. Jack was frozen in place. He wanted to run but he knew that would just make it worse. He cleared his throat, saying that he had his money. From his coat pocket he produced a fat envelope. The man stepped onto the stage, snatching it from him and opening it. He looked through it, then looked at Jack, asking him if this was all. Jack swallowed, saying quietly that he couldn’t quite get all of it, though if they gave him more time he could make them the other quarter.

The man said that he had given him his chance already, and he was out of patience. He put the money back in its envelope, shouting for his men. As the thugs filed into the tent, Jack pleaded with him to just give him a little more time, just a little more patience and he would have it. He had nothing left in their account to give them, not his account, not the park’s account, he even stole what he did give him. The mafia surrounded him, grabbing hold of his arms and shoved him down to his knees.

The leader of the group tucked the envelope into the back of his pants, then produced a small, curved knife from his sleeve. He told him that for his trouble, and for putting on a great show, he would pay him back and show him mercy. He leaned down, grabbing Jack by his cheeks. Tears were spilling over his fear-filled eyes and causing his clown makeup to run. ‘Why so sad?’ The man asked him. ‘Turn that frown upside down.’

The man used his thumb and pulled the side of Jack’s mouth wide. He tried to thrash his head and crane his neck back, but one of the thugs grabbed him by the hair while the leader shoved his knife against his teeth, dragging the blade up. Jack screamed in horrific pain, and continued to scream when the man kept slowly pulling his knife further and further up his face. No one could hear him from outside over the sounds of the park.

After he was done carving one side of Jack’s face, he moved to the other side, forcing his mouth into a crude smile that went past his eyes. He was barely conscious by this point, his head bobbing around as though he were fighting sleep. All he could do was moan, the sound escaping his throat as a gurgle.

The man stood up and looked down at him, wiping the blood from his knife. Jack could see him talking, but he couldn’t hear the words. The men holding him let him go, and his body slumped over. The world seemed to move at a slower pace. He was getting cold, but he didn’t mind it. As he stared out through the entrance of the tent, everything had turned upside down. He was upside down, suspended by his feet above the stage. As his blood pooled to the back of his throat, Jack couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. His world was darkening, inviting him to join it. And he did.

His eyes flew open and he was instantly blinded by a bright white light. He winced, shutting them again. He went to cover them but he couldn’t move his hands. He could hear voices all around him, and as he tried to squint he was made acutely aware of the massive headache in his temples. Slowly his vision returned to him, and he realized that he wasn’t alone. He was surrounded by people, all wearing white coats, and they were staring at him. He was laying down on an uncomfortably flat table, his wrists and feet strapped down with a light over him shining in his face.

‘Can you understand us?’ He heard one of them ask. ‘Yes?’ He said confusedly. ‘Can you tell us your name? How do you feel?’ His eyebrows knitted together, his head pounding. They wanted to know his name? He’d only just woke up and he was being asked too many questions. ‘J- uh..’ He searched his mind for an answer but the pain only worsened. ‘Where am I?’ He said instead. ‘You’re in Arkham Asylum.’ The doctor answered.

[itspheenixbaby]

now playing...my baby just cares for me - nina simone.

what im most excited for in my genshin dr

me shifting to genshin and it being one of my top three is kinda ironic since i dont especially like or play the game anymore lool.

family my family is one of the richest in teyvat. i have three siblings (and good parents because i need a support system, im not that strong) and im the youngest. my only sister and i have an antagonistic relationship, which im kinda excited for? im just curious idk i never had that w anyone.

intelligence God, im so excited to learn. ill be a polygot, alchemist and a explorer. i scripted leaving the akademiya in under four years and then becoming an adventurer because im not spending all my time cooped up in a college! fuck that!

job many, many jobs. i just think being able to have all that expirience will be so thrilling!! & my most anticipated job is an author. ive got my content figured out already too, social parodies & societal commentary.

setting im a worldbuilding *fiend*. so i took the liberties of changing teyvat. the continent is more archaic & historically accurate in terms of fashion, language and culture (so that means no tacky over designed outfits, gov’t workers in batty riders or people saying “bro” and “dude” 🙄) much more diversity as well, not just in terms of features and skin tone but lots more land & major cities per nation and a wide range of accents as well as discernible cultural differences across [domestic] regions. but still not super historically accurate, and veering more on “magical” like disney princess stories.

natlan lowk have no idea how natlans actual cultural design works? 💀 like i quit genshin so im lost on that front. but i split it in three distinct regions. tribe 1-2, which is of mesoamerican influence; tribe 3-4, with west african influence (where im from); and tribe 5-6 with polynesian influence. its the same “tribe” as in game (whatever tf those are) but with a different look. i like this system a lot tho.

s/o this is so cliche but he’s definitely a big ass part of my reason for shifting to genshin. like hes the only s/o i actually *go crazy* with scripting about the rest of them the “romance” is general and non descriptive. our love storys finna be sooo romantic i cant even. also we have a slight age difference and im excited to tease him about it.