#if either parent questions why i would do this on a christmas holiday. well. it was either metal music or substance abuse so

[copia]

should i make bad choices

[ghostlywhiskey]

Simon Riley (Priest AU) - Forgive me, Father.

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,203

Warnings: MDNI 18+ ☆ Sacrilege, priest, mentions of prayer and common language used in confessionals - overall religious content that may upset some. Abuse of power. Mentions of being used and somnophilia. Cussing. Masturbation (Simon & reader).

Summary: After having improper thoughts weighing guilt on your mind, you decide to resort to confession. Simon has methods of how you can be forgiven.

Notes: Um, well, yeah. I’m not sure what to say. Writing this whole thing was a 'damn, Catholicism ingrained in me fr' moment from how I literally closed my eyes to remember how I would walk into church & what would be said in confession. Ha. Anyway. Minimal proofreading, I felt too dirty to re-read.

find my masterlist here

You weren't a frequent churchgoer. After years of Catholic school, it all became tiring and felt almost forced at this rate, but you went for the holidays like Easter & Christmas - at your grandparents request to be fair.

But, old habits die hard and one day you find yourself pulling into the parking lot of the church. Maybe it was the Catholic guilt ingrained in you that drew you to go today. 

The large wood doors creaked as you opened them and walked into the church. Every Catholic church looked the same to you - the stained glass, the architecture, the same old wooden pews either their original wood or coated in layers of white paint refreshed over the years. And every church you had ever been to was always so cold - why?

Every single move was like muscle memory. Your fingers dipped into the font that contained the holy water, quietly whispering as you did the sign of the cross and genuflected. 

Your eyes scanned the church, noting the layout as you located the confessional. Once you entered and sat down, you rang the tiny bell to indicate your presence. Heavy footsteps outside getting closer as you heard the priest enter the other side of the confessional, the divider sliding open so you can only make out the figure through the tiny holes.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." The words are spoken in unison. His voice is clearer to you now as he only speaks now, "May God who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in His mercy." In response, you quietly whisper 'amen' in return.

Clearing your throat and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you prepare to speak. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was 5 years ago. These are my sins.." The list of sins are far more minimal in nature such as disrespecting your parents, gossiping, lying and so forth.

Then, you finally get to what has been weighing on your mind like a ton of bricks. "And impure thoughts.." Your words trailing off, the sound of the priest shifting on the other side noticeable from the close proximity despite the divider separating you both. "In order to truly know the severity, what do these impure thoughts include, my child?" He asks, your body tensing as the question catches you off guard. "Ah, regarding premarital sex acts, Father."  You respond, fingers fidgeting with the rings on your hands. "Explain." This is all he says before the silence lingers in the small space before you speak again. "This is only to help your absolution." His voice urges you to continue, the words trying to ease you to come clean. “Well," Swallowing the lump in your throat, your cheeks burning from embarrassment despite your identity being unknown to him. "The thoughts consist of being used at will by a man. To be degraded and fucked until I'm begging for him to stop, but my whines only encourage him to continue. I don't want him to stop.” Your voice is strained, as if you're scared to admit it out loud. And truthfully, this was the first time you had admitted the thoughts out loud.  Your thighs squeeze together as your brain digs deeper into the thoughts you’ve been suppressing for a few months now. 

The sound of the priest clearing his throat pulls your attention back. “Surely that isn’t all, my child.” He says, and you shake your head in response even if he can’t see. “N-No. That isn’t all.” Rings spinning around your fingers as you continue to fidget from nerves. “Please remember, I need to know everything to offer you absolution.” Nodding, you swish spit in your mouth to coat the dryness to some extent and swallow. 

“I-I think about being woken up in the night, the man already buried deep in me. My body  doesn’t resist the feeling and clenching around him as my consciousness regains from sleep.” The heat between your thighs grows as you now shift in the seat, one leg moves to cross over the other in an effort to control the sensation.

The sound of a zipper coming undone is undeniable as your ears pick up on it, your lips parting slightly from shock as you process what’s happening on the other side of the confessional. “Father?” Your voice barely whispers, wondering if you acknowledge it, then he would stop. “Are these thoughts about anyone specific?” He mutters, his hand palming himself through his boxers. “No, just general desires, Father.” 

He inhales a breath and exhales before he speaks. “Have you acted on these thoughts?” No, but you fucking wish. “No, Father.” And maybe it was your own thoughts warping, but you could have sworn you heard him mumble the words, ‘Forgive me, Father’. 

On the other side of the confessional, unbeknown to you, the priest had now pulled his cock free from the constraints of his briefs. Biting back a groan, his hand comes up to his mouth as he quietly spits into his palm before he wraps it around himself. “For your penance, you must do exactly as I say, understood?” He speaks, his voice sounds low, demanding in a way. 

“Understood, Father.” You reply, your chest rising and falling slowly as you anticipate what he is going to say next. “We must rid you of these thoughts. You need to release them.” He murmurs, his hand slowly pumping up and then down. “Be a good girl and spread your legs.” 

Oh my God. Like actually, oh my God. Your brain rings in your head, doing as you're told and spreading your legs. Hearing the movement, he continues to speak. “My child, what are you wearing?” The question is simple, your hand already sliding down to the exposed panties your dress reveals once your legs are spread. “Knee length sundress.” You respond, your head leaning back against the wood of the confessional as your fingers rub the fabric covering your already wet cunt. “Hmm, and I suppose that length is useless as your legs are spread. Exposing yourself like a good girl, but such a slut.” The word slut drips from his mouth like venom, the tone of his voice sending excitement through your body. “Slide the panties off.” He orders, and you obey as you reach for the waistband and slide them down to your ankles, shaking them off to the floor of the confessional. “They’re off, Father.” You whisper, glancing at the divider. Never in your life did you want to be seen more than in this moment. “Father Simon.” He corrects. “Call me Father Simon.” 

“Father Simon.” You repeat the name he asked you to call him. A quiet groan travels to your side of the confessional and you can’t help but move your fingers to rub between your folds. The fact he was groaning to you just saying his title was causing your stomach to tie into knots. “What do I need to do, Father Simon?” You beg, wanting him to continue directing you. “Such an eager girl to be forgiven. You wouldn’t need forgiveness if you weren’t such a slut.” He hissed. “But you come into this confessional and speak of how you wish to be used. To be degraded. Do you think you can be forgiven?” 

“I-I want to be forgiven.” Your fingers build up your excitement, teasing your folds as your fingers move to give your clit some attention as you rub it gently. “I’m sorry, Father Simon. I’m sorry.” You choke out, almost forgetting to breathe amidst the pleasure. “Just because you’re sorry does not guarantee forgiveness.” Simon’s own hand continues to pump his cock, his thumb brushes over the head as some pre-cum oozes out. “You sound stupid saying sorry. Saying sorry while I can hear your hand moving as you touch yourself. Take those fingers and fuck yourself with three of them.” The order coming out of his mouth leaves you breathing shakily.

“F-Father, three?” You ask in order to clarify his demand. “R-Right away?” You needed time to adjust, even with your own slender fingers it took time before you could even have two. “You heard me.” He responds, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t disappoint me, sweetheart.” Simon’s hand starts to pump his cock faster, his free hand moves to massage his balls. 

While you’re already wet, just to be sure you take your index, middle and ring finger to your lips. Your mouth wrapping around the fingers, sucking and swirling your tongue to coat them in saliva. Pulling them away, you carefully position them, teasing your entrance before you push into yourself. Your free hand covers your mouth as you feel them stretching you slightly. A moan muffled by your hand is the additional sound mixed with your fingers starting to pump in and out of you, the wet stickiness filling the confessional. “Oh, sweetheart. You must look so beautiful spread out fucking yourself with your fingers.” Simon coos through the divider, his breaths shallow. “I wish I could bury my cock into that wet, tight cunt. Let me hear you pray to God for that.” 

Closing your eyes as he speaks, you imagine the priest grabbing your hips and forcing himself into you, despite having no idea of his appearance. Your head against the wood of the confessional again as you try to hold your moans in even with your hand over your mouth, scared if anyone else were to enter the church they would hear you both behind these curtains. “I don’t hear you.” Simon growls, glancing at the divider to barely see the movements of your hand as your body moves in response. “G-God, please. I want Father Simon’s cock.” He hears you whimper quietly, a grin forming on his face. “Oh..such a good, good girl.” Simon’s voice acknowledging your compliance. Your fingers curl inside as he praises you, allowing yourself the small reward. “Father Simon, I-I’m so wet.” 

“Mmph..those pretty little fingers must be slick with your juices.” Simon’s own head leaning against the wood of the confessional now, eyes closed as he pumps his cock faster and pushes down hard. The image of his cock disappearing in between your folds making his thoughts spin. “Keep pumping those fingers. We need to make you cum. Release the thoughts that are rotting your brain.” Simon’s teeth grit together, a soft hissing sound coming out as his pump down puts pressure on him.

Not trusting yourself, your hand is back on your mouth. The sound of your wet cunt getting pumped with your fingers fills both your ears and Simon’s, the squishing sounds push him closer to his own release. And for you, the thought of his cock instead of your fingers pulling you closer to the edge before you jump off and release. Whimpering into your palm, you clench around your fingers and pump a few more times before releasing around them. Your thighs immediately squeezing shut as you try to control your shaking. “S-Simon.” You cry softly, lips parted as you pant softly. “F-Fuck.” He groans, the hand not pumping his now cum covered cock fists and hits the confessional wall. The release that had been building up in him for months now. 

“In addition, you leave your panties behind. Along with that, I expect you to recite twenty Hail Mary’s and twenty Our Father’s after your release. Make an act of contrition.” His voice strained from his recent climax. Dazed from your own climax as well, the words come out of your mouth without hesitation, “My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good…” Pausing for a brief moment, you swallow a lump in your throat. “I have sinned against You, whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with Your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior, Jesus Christ, suffered and died for us. In His Name, my God, have mercy. Amen.” After the words leave your lips, you catch your breath again.

The sound of Simon readjusting and zipping himself up is the only sound you hear in response. “F-Father?” You say softly, awaiting for him to absolve you. “My child…” Simon’s voice sounds like it did when you first sat in the confessional. “God cannot give you pardon and peace as of today. Therefore, I cannot absolve you of your sins. Come back in five days after I’ve had some time to rest and ask God for a final answer.” 

And with that, the sound of footsteps fill the church once more, followed by the door to the sacristy opening and closing indicating he would not be seen by you when you left. The response leaves you stunned for a few moments, before your legs get the strength to stand up and exit the confessional. The hand you didn’t use to finger yourself gently dips into the font as you leave, the sign of the cross spoken softly as you walk out.

[loveswrites]

Pumpkins Please Billy Loomis x Stu Marcher x reader

Pumpkins Please Billy x Reader x Stu

Word count: 1397

Time it Took me: 1 hours 30 mins

To my loves: It was so obvious that stu and billy would win for our celebration of 300 followers! I wrote it that same night so I've had it in my drafts for 6 days now. I was thinking if I should wait till the poll ended but we reached over 300 followers before it even did, So here you go loves! Enjoy! Thank you for the support. It makes me so happy you guys enjoy my writing as it is all I want to do in life.

Love <3

“I wanna carve a pumpkin.” You pouted.

“Why don’t we just crave someone up instead.” Billy smirked playing with the tip of his knife. 

“I already have the pumpkins at my house. You wanna carve em here or there?” Stu said dropping himself on the bed making you and Billy shake with the bed. 

“You didn’t tell me you bought pumpkins.” Billy said, narrowing his eyes at Stu.

“Do I have to tell you everything?” Stu laughed out.

“Yes.” You and Billy said in unison. 

Stu started to laugh but slowly stopped when he realized you and Billy were not joking. 

“I just thought I should have them at the house since you know it is halloween. You know our favorite holiday.” Stu said, looking in between you and Billy.

“It’s not my favorite holiday mine is-”

“Christmas.” The two boys groaned, making you smile.

“The moment September 1st came along you were running around here yelling out ‘It’s christmas!’” Billy mocked you but you could see the slight smile in his cheeks as he recalled the memory. 

“It’s a lovely holiday, what can I say?” You smiled rubbing your socks together. 

Billy stroked the sides of your waist with his knife sending a shiver down your spine. He did this often. To both you and Stu. Still would often get cut most of the time cause he'd always laugh or move too much. But you trusted Billy to never leave a mark on you and he never did. Never has. 

Billy had three favorite things. His knives. His girl. And his best friend.

“Do we have to go to school tomorrow?” You questioned as Stu rubbed your legs while he stared up at the ceiling.

“You wanna skip again? Something on your mind, pretty girl?” Stu questioned. 

“Is someone bothering you? I can handle that, you know.” Billy said with stern eyes as he watched you respond.

“No no none of that I’m fine and no ones bothering me. I just don’t want to go and talk to people you know?” You said, stressed by the thought of even being in that building. 

“When do your parents get back in town?” Billy asked, putting his knife on your nightstand after taking one last long drag against your skin that sent tingles throughout your body.

Your parents had left for a business trip so you invited your two boyfriends to keep you company because why not? They weren’t doing anything before you called anyways.

“Sometime next week. It might get extended depending on some things. They told me I could go with them as always but I wanted to stay.” You said snuggling into Billy’s side.

“I would’ve left. No school and a free trip as a replacement sounds fun right about now.” Stu said, making you smile knowing that he wouldn’t just leave. He’d make sure that you and Billy were able to come as well. No matter if he wanted to admit it or not Stu couldn’t live without Billy nor you. 

Looking up at Billy who had his eyes closed you know he couldn’t live without you or Stu also. He wouldn’t admit it but he shows his love in crazy ways. Rather that’s spray painting the sides of buildings to pulling pranks on literally anybody to actual crimes. Billy has killed for you and Stu. If someone hurt one of you two you either never saw them again or saw them in the news the next day. Same if it was reversed with Stu but Stu doesn’t really clean his tracks very well so it’s mostly just Billy. 

You wondered if loving them made you a bad person. You wondered if keeping their victims a secret made you a murder. You wondered if not feeling a drop of remorse made it seem like you have the knife in your hand. 

But at the end of the day you didn’t really care because at the end of these dark sad thoughts all you saw was Billy and Stu. The two crazy boys who were in love with you. The two boys who showed you the world and would kill anyone who got in the way of your happy fairytale. You just prayed that they wouldn’t be the one to ruin your love story. 

You woke up the next morning feeling relaxed and refreshed. This made you just up and check the time. 1:24 pm. Shit you thought I missed damn near all of school. Rubbing your eyes you noticed that your bed was empty. Where did they go? Getting out of your bed you walked downstairs. Hearing voices, you followed them to the kitchen.

“Dumbass! the butter goes first, did you not read the box?” Billy snapped hitting Stu in the back of his head with said box. 

“You didn’t say that!” Stu said, trying to defend himself as he wiped his cheek leaving some flour in its place making you smile. 

“Maybe if you looked at the box I wouldn’t have to say it!” Billy fussed back. Stu opened his mouth to say something but that's when you decided to make yourself known.

“So are you two gonna bicker all day or tell me what you're doing?” You questioned walking fully into the kitchen.

“Baking you some cookies. Again..” Stu said, making you frown your eyebrows.

“Again?” You questioned.

“Stu burned the first batch.” Billy said, rolling his eyes.

“I did not! They just cooked a little bit longer than the rest.” Stu finished.

“Burnt.” You and Billy said in unison. That was happening a lot more often than usual. 

“We just wanted to do something nice for you before you woke up.” Stu said sneezing all over the batter when he rubbed flour on his face.

“What the fuck Stu!” Billy yelled while you just turned your nose up at the fact that he just sneezed on the batter.

“It’s fine. I’m not hungry. Like at all. I just wanna carve pumpkins okay? That’s it.” You said shifting your eyes between Billy and Stu.

“I’ll go get the pumpkins then.” Stu said starting to move, making you and Billy scream out ‘No!’.

“No! I’ll do it,  just stay here.” Billy said, shaking his head as he walked past you but not before giving you your ‘morning kiss’.

“You keep touching me I’m gonna throw pumpkin guts all over you.” You yelled out. Stu’s elbow kept touching yours as he attempted to show you how to carve your pumpkin.

“I’m trying to help you! You're doing it all wrong, trust me I do pumpkins.” Stu stated as if he was some kind of Pumpkin master.

“You do pumpkins?” You laughed out, tightening the grip on the knife in your hand.

“Shut up if I did you’d be jealous of the pumpkin.” Stu said, rolling his eyes. 

“As if, Who wants to sleep with you?” You questioned going back to cutting your pumpkin.

“You!” Stu said laughing as if that was the funniest thing in the world.

“Only on holidays.. Billy gets Monday through friday.” You said poking your tongue out at Stu to which he leaned in and bit your tongue making you jump back squealing in surprise. 

“Good thing Halloween is coming up.” Stu grinned. 

“Billy, he bit me!” You pointed at Stu with the knife in your hand. Billy pointed down to your pumpkin that was hanging on for dear life. 

“You need help, you keep cutting it like that there's not gonna be any pumpkin left.” Billy said, smirking, making Stu laugh.

“Shut up, it's perfectly fine.” You said going back to cutting pieces of the pumpkin.

“As if.” Stu snickered, earning a handful of pumpkin guts to the face.

“Hey!” Stu yelled out. 

“That’s what you get your lucky I didn’t throw the whole pumpkin!” You yelled.

“What pumpkin?!” Stu yelled back making you gasp.

“Billy!” You yelled.

“God.” Billy said, holding his head in his hands still with the knife in his hand. All he could hear was you two fighting with each other

He was in for a long bumpy ride if he wanted to be with you two forever. But watching the two of the most important people in his life bicker made him realize that he would kill any bump in that road to make them happy.  

[rai-chuuuu]

Hey can i get a nct127 headcanon

They dating a latina reader? Thanks🩷 if you want to do it in spanish or English it’s fine

╰┈➤ nct (127) dating a latina !

dating a latina + extra facts (0.8k words)

pairing ; every member x fem latina!reader

warnings ; fluff , silly stuff , pet names (theyre from doyoung and jaehyun) ,

Taeyong - At first, he was scared to meet your parents, but they absolutely love him. He’s a bit shy, but that doesn’t stop Taeyong from helping out with your family. Whenever you visit your family, it’s either your mom or an aunt giving you a plate full of food and saying, “Oyes, esto es para tu novio. (Hey, this is for your boyfriend.)” Taeyong makes an effort to learn Spanish to the best of his ability. Maybe it isn’t the best, but he has a good understanding of it. 

Extra: His favorite dish would be fresas con crema.

Johnny - You know when you have a crush on a sibling or cousin's partner? That’s the case for one of the teenagers in the family. It’s because of how charismatic Johnny is. Other than that, your tias love him and talk about all kinds of family chisme. Whenever he’s asked to put tortillas on the comal, he always manages to miss a tortilla or grab it when it’s too hot. He calls you his “beautiful Latina queen.” 

Extra: Johnny probably loves your mom's food more than yours. You can’t even blame him for that.

Yuta - The little kids love hanging out with him! Whenever he’s over, you can always find Yuta playing soccer or messing around with the dogs. If you go to a family gathering without him, the kids ask where he is. Sometimes he’ll try to give the dog some tortilla, but he isn’t sneaky with it. Yuta’s favorite holiday is Christmas, especially with your family. Most of the time, he gets more gifts than the kids because everyone loves him. You’ll get a present or two, but he goes home with the best stuff ever!

 Extra: Yuta sleeps with a wolf blanket.

Doyoung - Everyone loves Doyoung. He’s amazing at Spanish, can get along with every age group, and has such a nice charm. He abandons you for your tias. Whenever you try to talk to Doyoung, he’s in the middle of chismeando or is helping someone cook. When you two are talking with the señoras, it’s a conversation that lasts forever. That’s why you guys leave so late. He calls you things like “mi vida” or "cariño,” and it’s so heartwarming when it happens because he really does love you. 

Extra: Your family might love him more than you.

Jaehyun - Unlike Doyoung, your family abandons their activities for him. They all swarm around Jaehyun and ask him all kinds of questions, as if they’ve never seen a man. They always ask him such weird things, like if he’s an alien or something. Also, unlike Doyoung, whenever he calls you “mi amor” or “mi reina," it’s honestly terrible because he’s not saying it in the accent, but it’s okay because it’s Jaehyun. He tries, and that’s what really matters. Honestly, he’d be a perfect vaquero boyfriend.

 Extra: He once got on a horse but got flung off not long after.

Jungwoo - He loves hanging out with the guys in the family. Once Jungwoo is with them, expect him to not leave until it's too late. He always finds a way to impress your tios, whether it’s speaking Korean, Chinese (Mandarin, I believe), or even the little bit of Spanish he’s picked up. On game days, Jungwoo’s watching the game and might’ve bet some money as well. Whenever a holiday pops up, everyone already knows to serve bigger portions for him due to his appetite. He gets spoiled. 

Extra: His grito is really good. Impressive, even.

Mark - The adults love him, but the children have a burning hatred for him. He’s getting showered with affection while not understanding what they’re saying at all, but he’s always getting stared down by the kids. The reason was because Mark took all the piñata candy. He doesn’t play around when it comes to piñatas. Mark also shows people his music and convinces them to stream it, but that doesn’t work.

 Extra: When he’s traveling with you to a Latin country, he gets scammed by street vendors.

Haechan - Sometimes you can’t tell if your family is yours or Hyucks. They adore him and spoil him rotten. You get to eat a single plate? Your moms already gave Haechan three. It’s sick and twisted. He’s a prank puller, but everyone still loves him. Other than that, he’s a real family guy. Haechan loves being with you and your family, even if there’s a slight language barrier. 

Extra: Once planted, place baby Jesus in your rosca slice to avoid making tamales himself.

[mylifeisfruk4ever]

@bruciemilf Batcat with baby Dick

“You're getting sloppy,” Selina greeted Bruce from the couch.

She liked to surprise the bat and sneak into his house. But it got too easy when the owner of the house left a back window open for her.

"Selina? What are you doing here?" the billionaire asked, having the audacity to look surprised. Here, a woman disappeared for a few months, and she was immediately forgotten. 

She stood up, walking over to him and putting her arms around his neck, "Well, it's Christmas Eve. I've come to unwrap my present."

Selina was the first to acknowledge that she and Bruce didn't have a typical relationship. Heck, even saying they were in a relationship was an exaggeration: they played chasing each other, between the roofs and at galas, both wearing different masks, pathological liars who had recognized each other.

They couldn't be together, not when they had such different morals and both were too stubborn to back down.

Such a pity. For those lips, she would have abandoned anything. It would have taken so little to be happy, but Selina supposed that some people weren't made for happiness.

Bruce gently pushed her away, "Selina, now is not the time."

"Are you afraid your butler won't approve?" she teased him, her arms still around his neck. 

Bruce pursed his lips, "It's not him I worry about."

"So how about we screw up this couch and..."

A small voice interrupted her, "Bruce? Who is with you?"

Selina's eyes widened. Standing by the door was a kid in Superman pajamas, messy black hair, and bleary blue eyes. He looks like a miniature Bruce. 

Bruce seemed to suddenly age ten years, "Selina, this is Dick. Dick, she's...my friend."

Friend seemed a lot better than she is a criminal I occasionally have sex with, but Selina was still too shocked that Bruce Wayne, emotionally stunted and with more trauma than scars, had a child and she didn't know it.

"Do you have a son?" finally the woman blurted out, genuinely surprised.

"Why are you so surprised? Haven't you read the newspapers?"

"I've been busy," she said evasively. Selina hadn't been in Gotham for months, keeping herself off the radar of people she'd pissed off. She had stayed out of trouble long enough not to make the bat suspicious. 

Who would have guessed that Selina was the least of his thoughts?

"Did the mother sue you for alimony? That's why he lives with you now?"

"No, his...his parents...the ropes snapped and they...they didn't make it."

Oh. Oh.

The boy had lost his parents, like Bruce. That's why the man welcomed him. Bruce had seen himself in the boy.

She pulled away from Bruce and smiled at Dick. First impressions mattered.

Dick looked at her warily, "She doesn't look like a friend to me."

"Why do you say that?"

"You look like a thief."

She laughed. Smart boy. Selina told him conspiratorially, "Don't worry. I only steal from those who deserve it."

The boy cocked his head, "Like Robin Hood?"

"Just like him."

"Wow!" he exclaimed, his wondering look making her laugh.

"Does Bruce deserve it?" Dick asked.

Selina hummed, "The only thing I want to steal from him...is his heart."

Behind her, she heard Bruce begin to breathe again. Seriously, who did he take her for? She wasn't that shameless.

"Doesn't it hurt?" Dick seemed genuinely concerned about his new guardian.

"Oh yeah, it hurts a lot. If you want it, go for it. Take a risk. Don't always play it safe or you'll die wondering."

Urgh, she was getting sentimental. It was the fault of the holidays. She used to get corny at Christmas.

Dick blinked, but before he asked any more potentially awkward questions - or something that would force either of them, god forbid, to talk about feelings - Bruce interjected, "Selina came to say hello. She's leaving now."

“She can't stay?” Dick almost begged.

"She seems nice."

"You have to go to sleep or Santa won't come," Bruce reminded him calmly, the softest voice she'd ever heard him use. Fatherhood suited him.

"But I want to see Santa Claus!"

"Well," Selina chimed in.

"We could wait for him together. What do you think?"

"Really?" 

"I could tell you a story while we wait."

Dick nodded vigorously and flung himself onto the couch. Bruce looked at her as if she'd helped Poison Ivy escape Arkham.

Selina sat down next to the overexcited boy, and started rubbing his head. She spoke softly, "You know, even at your age, I was waiting for Santa to come. My mom and I used to make him cookies, putting a lot of chocolate chips in them..."

Selina had never had the luxury of believing in Santa Claus, and sure as hell her mother had never baked cookies.

But the beauty of stories was that they didn't necessarily have to be true to be told. Within half an hour, Dick was asleep on her lap, and Bruce was staring at her in amazement.

"How did you do?"

"He was already tired," Selina explained to him.

"I just had to create the right atmosphere for him to fall asleep. Plus, kittens love it when I give them head scratches."

Bruce snorted, "He's not a kitten."

"You're right. He's a baby bat."

The man shook his head, "He's got too much color in him to be a bat. No, Dick is a bird. He's built to fly much higher than me."

The thief looked at him pityingly, "Oh, Bruce. Birds are fragile creatures."

"I know. Probably, I'll ruin him. But maybe…maybe I can learn to be more human, for Dick."

Selina teased him, "The big bat is getting softer."

"Maybe," was all Bruce answered. He took the sleeping boy by the arm, looking at Selina, "Dick comes first."

"Got it. The child comes first. What about me?"

"You..."

She laughed, "I was kidding, silly. I would never get between a single parent and his child."

"Selina...Dick comes first, but I wouldn't mind if you too...come to visit him more often."

"Are you asking me to be his cat mom?" Selina asked half jokingly and half seriously.

"If you want."

"Mhm...I will think about it."

It wasn't a no. For now, it would have been enough for both of them.

Selina gave him a quick kiss on the lips, and like a teenager on a first date she whispered in his ear, "If you want to come looking for me without the kid, you know where to find me."

Selina left much the same way she had arrived, in a whiff of subtle perfume and mischief, feeling her heart heavy and her mind full of what-ifs.

[unhappycylinder]

Gonna Be Trouble (Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x fem!Reader) Part 9

wc: 1.4k

warnings: pregnancy, christmas, miscarriages, discussion of miscarriages and pregnancy (please DNI if this is a sensitive topic for you)

Series Masterlist

---

“Girllll what if its positive??” Gabby screamed, anxious hands running through her long dark hair.

“Um, don’t you want it to be positive?” You clarified, eyes darting between your best friend and the two pregnancy tests that sat on the counter. 

“Yeah but like, what if it is?” She laughed, you giggled with her.

The other test on the counter belonged to you…it was a solidarity test. Gabby didn’t want to take one alone, and you had an IUD and had nothing to worry about, so you figured why not.

Gabby paced around the adjacent bedroom. You had stopped by her house ‘on the way’ to Las Vegas to spend Christmas break with your grandparents, promising to keep her company for as much of the holidays as you could spare while Rooster was gone.

“Is it time?” She asked frantically, running back into the room and reaching for the test on the left.

“Oh wait Gabby that’s mine-”

“Positive.” Gabby said quietly.

“What?” 

“This test says positive” Gabby stared at the piece of plastic in awe, completely forgetting her own.

“There’s no way,” you stepped closer as she turned the test around, showing a bright pink plus.

“Fuck,” you panicked. In a spur of the moment decision, you grabbed Gabby’s upside-down test on the counter. “Well shit…positive.”

Gabby’s moth fell open as she stared at you, “WHAT?”

“I guess we’re both…” you began

“Pregnant?” You questioned in sync.

—

“You gotta tell Rooster, I mean how far along do you think you are?” You asked, sitting on Gabby’s couch as she paced through her living room.

“Y/n I can’t remember the last time I had a period…I have no clue.” She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at you, “Fuck. Jake.”

“Jake,” your eyes went wide. In the panic of pregnancy you had completely forgotten that there was another person involved in this fiasco…another person who you weren’t even on speaking terms with. 

“Do we tell them both?”

“At the same time? Gabby how would we do that?”

“Gosh I don’t know! Shit, I gotta call Roo,” she walked away into the kitchen, phone in hand.

“Rooster better keep his mouth shut,” you called out to her.

A couple minutes later Gabby came back, tears of joy streaming down here face as she sat on the couch and embraced you.

“Happy Chicken?” You questioned.

“Very happy chicken,” she laughed, “we’re gonna be parents. I’m gonna be a mom. I’m gonna be a mom to Rooster’s baby!” She groaned, realizing what she’d gotten herself into.

“That’s gonna be one big baby, you know that right?” You joked.

“Don’t remind me…” Gabby sat back up and grabbed your hands, staring deeply into your eyes, “are you gonna tell Jake?”

“Not yet, not til after Christmas at least.” You hummed, “first I gotta decide if I’m even gonna keep it. I mean, I wasn’t really planning on graduating college heavily pregnant and miserable.”

“Think about it, I’m here to bounce off ideas if you ever need to talk” she smiled at you, her warm eyes instantly melting your worries away.

—

Christmas with your grandparents went well. You spent a week in your childhood home with them, opening presents and watching holiday movies to your heart’s content. It was comforting being back with family, being back with the people who had raised you and supported you through everything. It took everything in your power to not text Jake a Merry Christmas text…but apparently it was just as easy for him to not send you one either. 

The day after Christmas you woke up in excruciating pain. Your abdomen throbbed and nausea overtook you as you made your way from your warm bed to the cold bathroom tile, finding yourself hunched over the toilet. The morning sickness had finally caught up to you, you thought, but last time you checked that didn’t usually mean cramping.

After what felt like 20 minutes, you sat yourself down on the toilet, resting your head in your hands…you were too weak to hold it up on your own.

“Fuck, what’s going on?” You wondered aloud as you pushed your hair back from your face. Finally opening your eyes, you glanced down to your legs, streams of blood slightly visible through your foggy vision.

“Huh?” You pulled the skin on your thighs as you examined them…it was definitely blood. Pulling off your shorts, it became painfully clear to you what had just happened.

You had miscarried.

The scene before you was a mess, and your nauseous state didn’t make it any better. Standing up, you took two painful steps to your sink, turning the faucet on and sipping the cold water. You splashed some on your neck and dampened a towel, which you used to clean up your legs.

At some point during this time, tears had started falling. It’s not like you were thrilled at the fact that you were pregnant, but a part of you mourned the possibility that this could be what brought you and Jake back together…or that this was something you and him would share.

As the nausea faded, the emotions grew, and you were in a full fit of crying on your bathroom floor. 

You were still in a stalemate with Jake, nothing had been said since you left his house two months ago and wished him luck on his deployment. Neither party had been brave enough to make the first move, and it seemed it would stay that way…until…

Incoming call from Jake

Heart racing and tears drying, you picked up the vibrating phone and stared at the name on your screen, convinced it was just a dream, waiting for it to disappear as you snapped back to reality.

That never happened. Instead, you found yourself tapping the green button and raising the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked groggily, your voice still shaking from the events of the past hour.

“When the fuck were you planning on telling me you’re pregnant? Or was I just supposed to hear it from Rooster?” He sounded livid, his voice strong and unwavering as he reprimanded you.

The tears were back, “I’m not”

“Speak up, what’d you say?” He practically yelled

“I’m not pregnant anymore,” you muttered through tears

“What the fuck did you do Y/n” he accused you, unphased by your emotions

“I didn’t do anything Jake!” You yelled back, hyperventilating between words, “its just gone!”

“Baby’s don’t just disappear Y/n, what the fuck happened?” He yelled back, you could hear voices muttering behind him.

“I had a fucking miscarriage Jake! There. Okay?” You sobbed, “Is that what you wanted to hear? I’m sitting in a pool of my own blood right now, sick, crying, confused…I lost it”

“Y/n,” his voice softened, regret seeping through your name, “just…now?”

“Yes,” you wiped your nose, “this morning”

“Baby,” he cooed

“Don’t baby me Jake,” you yelled at him, “I haven’t heard from you since you broke up with me two months ago and let me walk out of your house without a word. Now I find out I’m pregnant and before I can even break the news to you, I lose the baby and you call me screaming at me?”

The line was quiet for a moment, “Y/n I’m sorry”

“You should be sorry, Hangman. I see where you get your callsign from now,” you hissed.

“Baby I’m sorry I didn’t call you, I didn’t know what to say, I-”

“And what? It took Rooster telling you that I’m pregnant for you to remember that I exist? It doesn’t matter now Jake, its gone, so…you don’t need to talk to me anymore, okay?”

“No, no, I want to talk to you”

“Well I don’t. I’m sick of this shit. You know what? I’m glad its gone, I wouldn’t want to have a kid with you anyway.”

And with that, you hung up. Tears streamed down your face again, but in a way it felt good to hurt him for once, not the other way around.

Now, it was time to call Gabby and break the news. 

---

Taglist: @dempy@shanimallina87@luckyladycreator2@mightiestheroes@taytaylala12@djs8891@clancycucumber230

[axxiomn]

"I'll be home for Christmas"

summary: Kid Stu waiting for his parents to come home for Christmas. Word count: 1221

It was going to be Christmas Eve soon, and 8-year-old Stu Macher was not in his own home. 

He was dropped off at Grandma's house a couple of days before. Mr. and Mrs. Macher had to attend a business conference across the country for work. 

Stu remembered how much he cried and begged for them not to go as he clung desperately to his mother's coat. 

Mom just smiled and bent over closer to meet Stu's teary eyes. 

“Oh, baby,” she brushed his hair gently and tucked it behind his ear in a half attempt at comfort. “We'll be home for Christmas. Besides, you have Leslie and Grandma to spend the holidays with.”

Leslie liked to mess with him, always hogging up the TV with Tom Cruise movies whenever Scooby Doo was on. Grandma smelled like mothballs and old flowers. 

Dad motioned for Mom to hurry up so as not to miss their flight.

 “Cheer up, Stuart, we'll bring you back lots of gifts like always!” 

He wanted them, not any dumb toys. No amount of crying will get that. He's tried lots of times. 

After exchanging goodbyes with him and Leslie, they both walked out that door just like they always did. 

Grandma ushered them into the living room while she fixed up some old Campbell soup. Leslie was quieter than usual as they sat down on the squeaky couch. She was not the mean older sister this time. She didn't pick on Stu as much. Maybe, even then, she knew all they had was each other. 

December 24, 1988. 

The dinner had just wrapped up. Nothing too extravagant. Just some turkey, ham, and other side dishes. Stu wasn't hungry. He was pretty sure Leslie wasn't either. They all sat in silence at the dinner table with the occasional question from Grandma on how school was going and if Leslie liked any boys yet. 

The night dragged on painfully. Leslie took out an old game of Monopoly. Between each couple of turns, Stu would ask Grandma if his parents were getting back yet. 

She just smiled and said not yet before going back to her knitting. 

“I don't know why you just expect them to magically appear. They never do.” Leslie groaned as her puzzle piece returned to jail for the 5th time that game.

“'Cause it's Christmas.” Every child wants their parents home for Christmas or at least have the illusion of that comfort.

“Yeah, well, I don't believe in Christmas miracle, Stuey.“ 

The game carried out in mostly silence until the phone rang. 

“Stuart. Leslie. It's your parents!”

Stu ran to the phone, almost knocking a vase to the floor. 

“Hey, munchkin, it's Mom.” Her voice was tired, but then again, she was always tired after work. 

“Mom! Dad! Are you coming home yet?” Stu's face lit up hearing his mom on the other end. There came a pause before quiet whispering from the other end. 

“Sweetie, I don't think we'll be home for Christmas —"

“But you promised!”

“I know, but there's—”

“But Mom—”

“Stuart.” Her voice was stern. There was no attempt at comfort. “Mom and Dad are stuck in New York right now because all the flights are delayed. We'll be back when the snow clears. Understood?”

“Yes, Mom.” Stu didn't like it when she raised her voice at him. It made him feel small and weak. She always said he was far too sensitive. 

“Good. Now pass the phone to your sister. I want to talk with her too.”

Stu passed the phone to Leslie before slowly making it back to the living room, kicking at the carpet. Grandma left the radio on. It was that dumb old-timey song. 

“I'll be home for Christmas”

Yeah well, that's just not true. Mom and Dad were nothing but dumb liars. They were dumb and stupid for getting his hopes up again. But they promised. They promised they'd be home this time. They really promised. Stu just wanted to grab that radio and smash it into the wall. Oh, it was tempting. But, alas, he just let himself sink into the sofa. Maybe if he closed his eyes and pretended his mom and dad were back, it would be real.

A small hand on his shoulder shook him awake. Long blonde hair tickled at his forehead. It was Leslie. 

“Come on, Stuey, it's time for bed.”

He opened his mouth to interject but was hushed before he could say anything. 

“No buts, let's get you to bed.” Her voice was soft like Mom's,but it was real and genuine. 

With fuzzy socks, they crept up and up the creaky staircase. The entire house was creaky, even spookier at night when no light was on. Thankfully, the glow of the Christmas tree kept the creepiness away. 

But the spare bedroom they slept in had no Christmas trees, no night lights to keep away the monsters. Stu couldn't sleep. How can anyone sleep you're in a strange and dark bedroom and all you want is for your parents to come home?

He couldn't wake Leslie up. She slept like a rock if indicative of her loud snoring from the other bed. He had to go down to the living room. At least there were lights there. 

He mustered up the courage to get out of bed, creep down the creaky staircase, and ran all the way to the living room. The warm glow of the tree illuminated the entire living room. It felt nice. Stu could almost pretend he was home. 

He looked in the stockings, but there weren't any gifts or coal left behind. Santa Claus didn't come just like his parents. Did his sleigh get delayed in New York like them? 

Stu looked through the gifts wrapped up in colorful paper and pretty bows. He did not care. There was no Mom or Dad there to get after him. 

None caught his attention except for a small red box with a not-so-perfect yellow Bow. He quickly grabbed it to see who it was for and who it was from. 

It was for him from... Billy! His eyes light up brighter than the lights above him. Small little hands worked fast to unwrap the bow to see what was inside. 

It was a simple copy of Halloween. The two boys had sneaked off into Billy's basement to watch it a couple of months ago. Stu wasn't allowed to watch scary movies; his mom thought they were improper. What if they were really scary? But Billy reassured him it was fine, that he and his cousins watched it many times. They weren't scared so Stu shouldn't be scared either. That made sense. Billy always made sense. 

Sure enough, he was right! Stu loved the movie. He loved Michael Myers but not as much as Billy did. Either way, he was glad he had someone to have fun with — someone who'd understand.

And so there it was, his very own copy of Halloween. It was nothing overly expensive like any of the gifts his parents got him, but it meant so much more to him. 

He'd love that overplayed tape until he died — even until he became one of the monsters in the dark that he was so scared of. 

But even monsters under the bed crave a good Hollywood Christmas. 

Just a little something to get back into writing. :) hope y'all enjoyed.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Day.8 ~ What is Halloween? ~ Hallowtober

Joel Miller x girlfriend!reader

warning : flirting, kissing, fluff, mention of virus outbreak, no use of y/n

Summary : Halloween has always been her favourite holiday, back when she used to party with the Millers and now almost a decade later they'd be back together again, explaining to a confused Ellie why you party when there are living zombies running around outside.

info : Joel Miller I think he would at least approve of the decorating of the house and the happy children, maybe not exactly a zombie disguise but at least it was enough for this hallowtober have fun reading :)

masterlist

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

When she looked out of her house ten years ago, over the green front garden with its seemingly perfect lawn of small bushes and a few colourful flowers.

Across the street where cars occasionally drove and children usually played, rode around on bicycles and drew colourful pictures with chalk and the pensioners made the children a treat with biscuits.

When she looked closely into the window, she always smiled when she saw his smile, a friendly smile on a grown-up face with a darkly recognisable, darkly engaging beard, dark eyes that radiated something she saw again and the brief lift of his hand when he waved at her.

She and her neighbour Joel always seemed to be washing the dishes at the same time, glancing up at the area before spotting each other, smiling and then looking away embarrassed, only to wave and laugh moments later.

Always seemed to be like that until they took out the rubbish and had a little chat until either his nice daughter came out to holler back at her dad or her own son needed her because some toy had broken again.

It seemed to be like that every week, ending in the warm summer with a barbecue together, ,,I'm really glad you could come," he had said to her and she could still feel his touch on her shoulder, a short hug, a friendly smile and she had fallen for those pretty dark doe eyes again.

But it was also the summer when the whole world seemed to be going under, the night she had seen that something screaming and cartwheeling and breaking down doors and she was too slow, too slow to react and protect her son.

Nothing left for her to do but leave the dead body behind, run with the gun in her bloodied hand and never look back…until the moment she had looked forward in Jackson and met the man who had made every dishwashing and summer sultry night so much sweeter.

Since then, despite the grey out there between them, the love only seemed to go on, at least not long after they'd found each other again, she'd met his ‘daughter’ Ellie, she'd moved in with him, become his family and she'd become his, and had also got the consent of Ellie, who was totally into shooting kisses with a revolver.

It was just nice to bathe in something human next to a crowd of normal people, someone to wake up next to, kisses, hugs and other touches that made you forget what was out there until the festivities. From birthdays, to Easter, to Christmas and Halloween, ,,What is this Halloween?" Ellie had asked when she saw the few sweets and biscuits in the pumpkin.

Her question made her ‘parents’ pause, but she saw Joel shake his head while she took a biscuit herself, split it and held the other half out to him. ,,That's right, you were too young…well, Halloween is celebrated on the last day of October, you get scared and eat sweets, it's been around for hundreds of years or something," he tried to explain succinctly, but even though Ellie's eyes lit up at the word sweets, she didn't seem to be able to imagine too much.

She settled down next to Ellie and felt the brief squeeze on her shoulder, a reminder of when he smiled at her and she felt the kiss on her head, ,,I'll just be at Tommy's" he said casually before disappearing to his brother's with a bag to do who knows what, and as the door closed she had an idea that she would discuss with Joel later, an idea to show Ellie Halloween and maybe bring back some memories.

The teenager was blown away when she realised they were dressing up as whatever they wanted and even though Ellie was going as a superhero from her comic books she had been looking for bits of fabric with other Jackson residents to make a super costume, the younger girl's smile was worth the hall and the hug and the ,,Thank you really".

Had Ellie's ‘mum’ prepared something else after an evening of sweet, scary films and scary stories they had dropped Ellie off at Tommy and Maria's who with a little persuasion and shift took the brown haired girl in for a few hours, ,,And I'm still not allowed to watch darling?" she heard Joel ask from the bedroom as she tied a knot in his shirt to emphasise some of his body parts a little better and sat down on the couch.

,,You can open your eyes!" she shouted, hearing the hurried shush as he came back to her and seeing the puzzled look on his face as he looked at her. She saw him swallow and lick his lips, ,,My sweet bear," she grinned and tapped the plush ears in his curly hair, kissed the black tip of his nose and stroked the fur to give it a better look.

,,My gorgeous lumberjack," he purred, stroking down her neck, looking at her cleavage, which was emphasised by the white tank top and his shirt knotted underneath, before he pulled her into a deep kiss, holding her close and enjoying the kiss. Savouring the memory of it.

A memory of the first time they'd spent the night together before all the chaos and horror before they'd both lost a child and before they'd had to kill, ,,This is probably the best Halloween since then," she heard him murmur as he stroked her cheek she knew that look of devotion and love he always gave her before his hand settled on her leg and slowly travelled further up.

,,Then let's experience it again," he suggested in a whisper before she slowly sat down on his lap and engaged him in another kiss while a few candles lit up around them and a horror film played on the old television, almost like when they used to see each other across the street.

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

[rocksandrobots]

PotP Ch 54 - Christmas With The Krampus: Part 3

"Hey, thanks for helping out on such short notice," Tadashi said.

"Oh no problem, buddy." Fred's voice came over the phone. "Minimax and I were getting bored anyway. Christmas is never as big a deal as Hanukkah at my house. The only thing going on is the neighborhood lights display contest."

"Your Mom's in full-blown socialite mode?" Tadashi asked, already knowing the answer.

"Totally. Monster hunting is way more fun than tea and crumpets."

"There's no monster, Fred," Varian yelled over Tadashi's shoulder into the phone.

"Just let us know if you or Minimax see Vigor," Hiro added, ignoring his brother.

"Ten-four!... or is it four-ten... Either way, MiniMax and Fredzillia are on the job!"

Tadashi hung up the phone as the three of them entered the near-empty shopping mall.

Most of the storefronts were closed, only a handful of people roamed the food court, and a sign on the door said that the shopping center was operating at half-hours for the holiday. So they had only about an hour left to look for clues.

They made their way to the top floor, hoping that perhaps Vigor was just hiding inside, maybe wrecking one of the other window displays for the fun of it, only to have that hope dashed once they reached Canardist's emporium.

The door was ripped off its hinges and the inside of the shop was completely trashed.

"Still think there's no monster?" Hiro asked.

"Anyone could have done this," Varian replied, though with slightly less confidence than before.

Tadashi picked up a scroll off the floor and frowned. He couldn't read it.

"Varian, I think we need to keep more of an open mind here." He cautioned. "I mean, you and Canardist come from a world where fairy tale princesses are real and magical curses are a thing. Why can't this Krampus exist too?"

"Because..." Varian huffed but didn't finish his thought as he picked up an amulet hanging from a shelf. This one with Corona's royal seal on it.

"Because you don't wanna admit that you're wrong." Hiro finished for him.

Varian shot a glare at him, but couldn't deny it.

"What do you know about this Krampus? What do the legends actually say?" Tadashi asked.

Varian shrugged. "Not much. He's supposed to be Saint Nicholas's helper. While St Nick rewards good little kids with toys and sweets, the Krampus collects the souls of bad children and tortures them for their misdeeds."

He shook his head. "It's just a story parents tell their kids to get them to behave. Like with the Sandman who brings nightmares or Zhan Tiri and his shadow soldiers. None of it's real."

Hiro and Tadashi shared a look but didn't press for more details about the other horror stories that Varian had mentioned.

"Look, let's just run with the premise that all stories are based on a kernel of truth," Tadashi argued. "Like with Troy and the Iliad... exaggerated no doubt, but based off a real place and presumably a real war... With that being the case here, what would a real Krampus be like, you think?"

Varian gave the proposal some serious consideration. "Well, I guess... if he was real, he'd be some type of creature... just an animal."

"And what would a large wild animal do with a pet monkey?"

"Eat it," Hiro said, almost immediately. It was the most logical conclusion.

The other two boys grimaced.

The Varian shrugged again. "Well, nasty way to go, but what can you do? Who wants to break the bad news to Canardist?"

Tadashi stopped him from walking away. "Hold on. We can't just let a six-foot animal run around the city eating people's pets, and possibly attacking people themselves."

"How did he even get into this world?" Hiro asked.

"That would be a question for Canardist," Tadashi answered. "In the meantime, we have to hunt down this Krampus and capture it."

"And what do we do with it after we've caught it?" Varian asked. "I can't send it back. The portal isn't working the way I need it to."

"We'll figure that out once we find it... the only question is, how do we find it?"

"I have a bio-reading of the creature," Baymax responded.

"Really? How did you get that?" Hiro asked.

"It is shedding." The robot pointed at the floor and indeed there was hair everywhere.

"Great work Baymax.' Tadashi patted his creation on the shoulder. "Let's go suit up."

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

"Behold!" Minimax pointed down below into an alley, "There goes our psychic primate pal!"

Fred followed his faithful sidekick's finger and sure enough, spotted the chimpanzee running frantically down the road.

"Hey guys!" came Fred's voice over the intercom. "We found Vigor!"

"He's still alive?' Varian asked skeptically, as he held onto Baymax's arm tighter. The robot was carrying all three of them as they flew through the air, with Hiro and Tadashi riding on top and Varian cradled in his arms; having lost at rock, paper, scissors.

"Not for long," Hiro replied as he studied the scans through his helmet interface. A red dot was racing across the city map. "Whatever it is that tore up the store is heading straight your way Fred... and it's fast."

"Don't worry. We're on it." Fred assured them and was gone.

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

The superheroes found poor Vigor cowering in the corner of an alley.

"Hey buddy, it's okay." Fred coaxed the frightened animal. "You're safe now."

"Yes, no fiendish foe will do you harm while we're around," Minimax added.

The chimp came out of hiding and cooed in recognition when he realized who the armored men were.

He waddled over and hugged Hiro around his legs. A predicament that Hiro absolutely was not comfortable with.

"Yeah, th-that's right... we're here to take you home." He awkwardly said as he tried to gently pry the monkey off of him.

That's when an ominous shadow fell across them.

Everyone turned as one to see the Krampus snarling at them.

It was a towering nine-foot-tall, from its claws on its hind legs to the tips of the horns on its head. It was covered head to toe in dark fur and its bottom jaw had two protruding tusks. It slobbered drool as it growled like a dog, and Hiro could have sworn that its eyes glowed red.

Vigor howled in fright and quickly scrambled away and up the side of the building before anyone could stop him.

The monster took after him just as quickly.

The boys could feel the wind rush past them as the creature leaped up towards the roof, like how a car whizzing by might blow away the papers in your hand.

"Ok... take note... the Krampus moves very fast," Tadashi said, pointing out the obvious as everyone else stood there stunned.

Hiro shook out of his stupor first.

"Quick Baymax, after them."

He hopped onto the robot's back just as Fred swung himself up onto the roof. Minimax wasn't far behind as they rocketed into the air themselves.

"Do you see where they're heading?" Varian's voice came in over the intercom.

"I've already lost sight of them," Fred replied.

"They've turned down 2nd Market St." Baymax calmly stated.

Hiro followed Baymax's finger and his heart sank as something large and furry ducked into the subway.

"Oh no."

"What's happened?" Tadashi asked.

"They just went into Memento station."

"Don't worry, we'll head them off," Varian answered as he fished the portal magnets from his coat.

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

Varian and Tadashi exited the portal just in time to see everyone rushing towards the nearest exit, screaming and panicking as they went.

In the middle of the waiting platform, now on all fours and sniffing the ground with its pig-like snout, was the Krampus. It seemed totally disinterested in the frightened crowd as it poked about the various discarded presents and groceries.  

"Soooo...what do we do now?" Tadashi asked as they watched the beast get a pair of candy cane-printed boxers caught on its nose. It took a second to shake the offending underwear off before it went to gnawing on the wrapping paper that it had been packaged in.

"Well.... umm..." Varian's mind raced as he tried to rationalize the impossibility before him. "it's... it's an animal, right?

"R-right?" Tadashi agreed, unsure what Varian was getting at.

"So how would you capture a really large animal?"

"No clue," Tadashi replied, never taking his eyes off the monster as it now decided to eat a forgotten Christmas ham.

"Well how would, like, the rangers catch a bear or a lion?"

"Tranquilizers, but we haven't any-"

Varian snapped his fingers. "Sleeping powder!"

He then started to search his pockets and harness... only to slow down as he realized that Tadashi was right. "I'm out of sleeping powder..."

That's when the Krampus finally took notice of them.

Both boys gulped as the creature let out a snarl.

Varian began to scour his pockets even more frantically. "H-hold him off while I try to make a new batch of sleeping potion."

"What am I supposed to do? Wave a red flag at him like a bullfighter?"

Varian didn't answer as he screwed the top off a chimball full of blue liquid.

You could not see his eyes behind his visor, but it was clear that Tadashi was rolling them as he pressed a button on the side of his helmet and disappeared from view.

This was enough of a surprise to slow the Krampus down, as it stopped stalking towards them.

A moment later a roll of sparkly red wrapping paper, discarded by its owner in their flight from the station, lifted itself off the ground and seemingly hung in the air as if by magic.

"Here boy, toro." Tadashi whistled as he waved the paper in front of the creature.

The Krampus howled and rushed towards the sparkly paper. Tadashi barely had time to move out of the way as it grabbed the cardboard tube and bounded away, ripping the paper to shreds in a frenzy.

"Well, there goes that idea."

"How's it going?" Hiro breathlessly asked as he, Fred, and the two robots finally ran inside.

The Krampus stopped immediately and focused its attention on the newcomers.

Heroes and monster eyed each other for only a moment as Hiro realized his mistake. Then the mass of fur and muscle was bounding towards them at top speed before Tadashi could even shout a warning.

Everyone scattered, only for the Krampus' jaws to clamp around Minimax's foot at the last second.

The robot yelled as the monster shook him back and forth before throwing him into the air. Fortunately, being a robot, he was only momentarily disoriented as opposed to being hurt.

While the heroes were busy checking over their friend, Vigor screeched wildly as the monster took chase after the monkey once more. 

"No!" Hiro screamed, too late, as the Krampus overtook the poor animal. 

The creature let out a victorious howl, and then, to everyone's astonishment, it gave Vigor a playful, sloppy lick of its tongue and bounded away barking. Vigor made a chittering sound, like the money equivalent of a laugh, and happily chased after the monster. 

"Awe, how cuuuuteee!" Fred squeed while everyone else stood there dumbfounded. "They've been playing tag this whole time." 

"It kind of acts like a giant dog," Hiro observed as he tilted his head in thought. 

"Wild dogs can still be dangerous though." Tadashi reminded him. "We need to capture him and take him someplace safe." 

"Got it!" Varian shouted triumphantly as he held up a chimball. Before he could throw the sleeping powder, however, the police barged into the station. 

"Chief Cruz!" Hiro rushed toward the lead officer in relief. "We need to find a humane way of cap-"

"We're already on it." Cruz interrupted, shoving him aside. "You kids need to clear out of the way so animal control can take care of this." 

"Kids?" Hiro quietly questioned, but he was ignored as some of the officers whipped out a tranquilizer gun. 

The Krampus let out an inhuman scream as the dart embedded itself into its leg right above its paw. He started to hiss and growl as it tried fruitlessly to shake the painful splinter off. Vigor gave a worried whimper, unsure how to help his friend.

Unsuccessful in removing the dart, the Krampus then turned his attention towards his attackers, lowering on his haunches as if to pounce like a cat. Fortunately, Baymax was able to grab the creature before it could jump upon anyone. 

As the robot and monster wrestled each other Cruz was already ordering his men to shoot again. 

"Be careful of Bay- Red Panda," Hiro advised. 

"I'm not concerned for your pet robot right now." Cruz snapped."If this next tranquilizer doesn't work then we may have to put the poor creature down." 

Hiro frowned, not only at Cruz's dismissal of Baymax's safety nor even that the officer was considering lethal force, but the Chief of Police was no longer talking to them like they were vigilantes underfoot but speaking down to them like they were children... like they were the same kids he would take out to ice cream once a month. 

However, the worrisome thought that they might have been discovered was banished from Hiro's mind when the Krampus broke free of Baymax's grasp, dogged the second dart, and ran down the railway tunnel. 

"Blast," Cruz muttered. 

"Don't worry. We'll track him down for you." Hiro yelled as he ran towards Baymax, happy to have an excuse to get away. He and the rest of the supers were already half way down the tunnel before Chief Cruz could protest.

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

Varian was the one to find the creature first. The Karmpus was huddled in an alley whimpering as it licked its wound. He snarled as Varian approached.

"Easy now...." Varian said softly as he inched his way forward. "Easy... I'm not going to hurt ya."

For a moment he thought the Krampus would run away again but it stumbled as soon as it tried to put weight upon its paw, and then promptly laid back down with a huff.

Varian untied the bandanna from around his neck, poured some sort of substance on it from his chimbag, and cautiously sat down next to the monster.

"Here... let's see what we can do about that paw..."

He pulled the tranquilizer dart out and the creature howled, but before the animal could even think of hurting him, Varian had wrapped the wound up with the bandana.

The Krampus seemed confused by such an action and sniffed curiously at the piece of cloth around his paw.

"It's just some chlorhexidine." he explained, though he did not know if the monster could understand him or not. "It should help ease the pain and sterilize the wound."

All the Krampus did in reply was to sigh and lay his head on Varian's lap, pinning him to the spot.

Varian resigned himself to his fate as a pillow and absentmindedly began to stroke the beast's fur.

"I know... San Fansokoyo is new and exciting and so full of amazing things to see, there's friends to make and wonderful inventions to discover... but it's also sometimes scary and unfamiliar.... with its own dangers... different from Corona's, sure, but they're still there... hiding just under the shining surface.... and you'll need those friends to help you avoid them, and they will cause they really, genuinely care about you... but... but.... it's still not home......"

The Krampus gave a sympathetic whine.

"You're probably missing the snowy pine forest that you grew up in... aren't you boy?"

Another little whimper.

"And maybe even... even your old friends and your own family?"

Suddenly Varian wrapped his arms around the hairy beast and gave him a desperate hug.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, "I'm sorry, I don't know how to get you back. I've tried and I've tried... and no, I don't want to leave everybody, but... but.... but Dad...."

The Krampus nuzzled his arm in comfort.

"Oh, what are we going to do?"

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

"Cantet nunc io, chorus angelorum;

Cantet nunc aula cælestium,

Gloria, gloria in excelsis Deo,

Venite adoremus

Venite adoremus

Venite adoremus

Dominum."

The rest of the gang found Varian and the Krampus in the alley and much to their surprise he was singing a Christmas carol while gently petting the ferocious animal's head.

Said creature was contently purring in his lap. Which sounded more like a motorcycle idling than a furry friend expressing contentment.

Vigor cooed with delight and ran to meet them, throwing his arms around his new friend.

"Well, we finally caught him... now what?" Tadashi asked.

Varian only looked up at him at a loss and shrugged.

"We.... we have to try the portal again, I guess," Hiro said hesitantly, rubbing his forehead in thought. "I know it's not ready yet, b-but it's not like we can keep him hidden in the city."

Varian shook his head, and with some effort crawled out from under the huge beast and stood up. "It isn't just that that portal is broken. We don't even know where to send him to. We're talking about the entire world here. We can't just dump in him Corona, or the middle of the ocean, or 17th-century Istanbul... The point is... We need an energy signature to find where he actually lives, and I've no idea where we would get that."

"Well if we can't send him back, what do we do? Turn him over to Cruz and the animal control?" Tadashi asked

"I don't know if they would know what to do with him either," Hiro said.

"Maybe put him in the Zoo?" Fred suggested.

"They wouldn't know how to take care of him. It's not like mythical creatures are their specialty."

"I know!" Minimax shouted. "We can make him our new team mascot!"

"Great idea!" Fred joined in.

"Oh no... nope" Tadashi shook his head. "For starters, we have way too many exotic pets as it is, and secondly we wouldn't know how to take care of him either."

"I think we may have to ask Carnardist." Varian finally admitted. "She knows more than she's telling us."

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

"Oh, Vigor!"  Carnardist cheered with glee as she smothered her long-lost pet with kisses. "Oh, I was so worried. Thank goodness you are unhurt." 

As the happy pair were reunited, Hiro made sure that the blanket they had thrown over the Krampus remained in place. 

They had called the cafe and asked the older woman to meet them back at her shop, and the supers had to think of a creative way to keep the inter-dimensional monster hidden from the rest of the shoppers; as few as there were today. The best they could come up with on such short notice was a shopping cart with a quilt hastily thrown over it. 

Varian awkwardly coughed to gain the lady's attention. 

"Yes, malchick?" 

Varian ignored the unwanted nickname. 

"You were right about the Krampus." 

Making sure that no one was looking into the shop window he pulled the cover off. 

Carnardist screamed. 

"No. No. It's okay. He won't harm anyone." Varian tried to calm the frightened woman down.

It wasn't until Vigor hopped out of her arms and went to hug the creature did she stop panicking. 

"See? He's a nice daemon." Hiro encouraged. 

"The only problem is we don't know how to send him home," Fred explained. 

"And we know you have a portal." Tadashi chimed in. 

Carnardist eyes grew dark and she slowly straightened to her full height, even though she was several inches shorter than the teenage boys before her.   

"Is that so?" 

"Oh stop pretending." Vairan huffed. "You don't want to share your tech with us, then fine. The least you can do is put this guy back where you got him." 

Carnardist folded her arms. "There are other ways to move between worlds than your portals malchick, and they require far more than just flipping a switch. I can not 'send him back'. I can not send anyone anywhere." 

"Then how did you get here?" Tadashi challenged, ignoring Varian's flabbergasted expression. 

Carnardist seemed to relent at this and walked over to a box full of scrolls that had tipped over. She picked one up. "This is the incantation for opening the door." She made to hand the parchment over to Tadashi, before quickly snatching it away. "But! It will not lead you to where you want to go. The window does not open to another world, but a pathway between the worlds." 

"A pathway between worlds?" Varian echoed slowly. 

"A dark place... an eternity of nothingness that is very difficult to traverse. Only populated by the remnants of dead universes, lost to time eons ago."

"The void," Hiro said softly as realization dawned on him.

"Even if you know where you are going," Carnardist continued. "and know the markers to find, making the journey would require much preparation and immense fortitude. Are you sure you can face such dangers?" 

"No problem," Fred said as she finally handed over the scroll to Tadashi. "We're heroes! After battling supervillains, killer robots, and literal monsters, how hard can a little old trip through negative space be?"

"There are things hiding in the dark that are far worse than monsters." She softly warned. 

This gave everyone pause. Yet Carnardist would not allow them time to consider her words fully.

"Now get that hairy brute out of my shop!" she yelled, shooing them out the door.

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

"Arrggh, where is that toothbru-- Ahhhhh!" Krei stopped packing and let out a girly high-pitched scream when he came face-to-face with a towering beast with horns. 

"Sorry to bother you Mr. Keri." Varian waved apologetically as he poked his head around from where he was standing behind the Krampus. 

"But we kind of need to ask you a favor," Hiro added as he stuck his head around the opposite side. 

Tadashi followed suit as his head popped up from behind the monster's shoulders. "Do you think you got room at that animal reserve for a very rare and exotic inter-dimensional demon?"

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

"Baby raccoons!" Honey Lemon squeed when Varian showed off his newest pets.

She giggled and cooed over the tiny creatures as she scooped one up to cuddle. "What are their names?"

"Well there's eight of them, so I thought we could all name one," Varian answered.

"You're seriously not thinking of keeping all of them," Wasabi complained.

"No, Krei is going to keep them on the forest reservation," Tadashi answered.

"But we get to visit them whenever we want." Varian cheered. 

"Them and Mr Krampus," Fred added. 

"Mr. Krampus?" Gogo asked. 

"You had to be there," Hiro answered. 

"I'm going to name mine Ferdinand." Honey Lemon announced. "He just looks like a Ferdie."

Gogo knelt down and gently petted one of the babies that was crawling around. "Jane." was all she said.

"The Pacific Northwest raccoon is also known as Procyon Lotor Pacificus" Baymax stated simply.  

"Ummm... that might be a bit too wordy for a name, Baymax." Varian gently suggested. "Why don't you call him Lotor for short?" 

"'Lotor' it is then." 

"Can I call mine trash panda?" Hiro asked.

Varian made a face. "Come on... at least be original."

"Fine... "He randomly pointed to one of the unnamed critters. "That one is now Garbage Breath."

Varian rolled his eyes in defeat. "Okay, then we'll call her by her initials, GB."

Hiro gave a smug smile in approval, but still wouldn't go near the wild animal.

"I'm calling mine Menace." Wasabi huffed.

"That's a cool name." Fred obliviously agreed as he lifted up another raccoon and nuzzled its nose. "And this one can be The Mega Awesome Raccoon Killer, aka M.A.R.K."

"What about you Tadashi?" Honey Lemon asked. 

Tadashi screwed up his face in thought. "I think I'll call mine... Rei. 

"Did you really just name it that because it starts with an R?" Hiro asked deadpan. 

"Yup," he proudly admitted.

"And I'm naming mine Hypatia!" He picked up the last cub, still ignoring the mother who hissed at him from under the 'den' made of a tarp and cardboard boxes. "Isn't she adorable?" He cooed as he scratched her ear. 

Ruddiger then climbed upon his shoulder and licked his kit on the forehead; pet and owner shared a proud smile.

[apenitentialprayer]

article by Sunita Puri, published October 5th, 2024. Bolded emphases added.

The first person who taught me something about death and defiance was the mother of a family friend, an older woman who had moved from Punjab to the United States to be closer to her son. I remember her as delicate and draped always in pastel salwar kameezes. After she was diagnosed with breast cancer, which moved quickly to claim her bones and her brain, her desire to return to Punjab intensified. When my parents told me about the end of her life, it was with a mixture of disbelief and conviction: She survived the days-long journey to the village where she’d been born—laboring to breathe for nearly the entire flight, grimacing through prayers when she ran out of pain medication—and died two days after she arrived.

I thought of her story this week as I read about former President Jimmy Carter’s intention to live long enough to vote for Kamala Harris. Carter, who has been on hospice for well over a year, turned 100 on Tuesday and has survived far longer than many expected he would. The notion that he has rallied in order to contribute in one final way to American democracy raises a familiar question that arises in my own work with patients and families: Do we have some control, conscious or not, over when we die? Can a person stretch the days of their life to include a last meaningful act or moment?

As a palliative-care physician, I have encountered the phenomenon of people dying only after specific circumstances materialize. There was the gentleman whose family held vigil in the intensive-care unit while he continued on, improbably, even without the support of the ventilator, dying only after his estranged son had arrived. There was the woman whose fragility precluded any further chemotherapy, but who survived long enough without it to witness the birth of her first grandchild. There was the woman who was deeply protective of her daughter, and died from cirrhosis only after she’d left for the night, possibly to spare her the agony of witnessing her death. The unexpected happens frequently enough that I tell patients and families that two timelines shape the moment of death: the timeline of the body, governed by the more predictable laws of physiology, and that of the soul, which may determine the moment of death in a way that defies medical understanding and human expectations. When people wonder about the circumstance of the last heartbeat, of the final breath, I can see how they never stop searching for their loved ones’ personhood or intention, a last gesture that reveals or solidifies who that person is.

Despite the prevalence of stories suggesting that people may have the ability to time their death, no scientific evidence supports this observation. Decades ago, several studies documented a dip in deaths just before Jewish holidays, with a corresponding rise immediately afterward, suggesting that perhaps people could choose to die after one final holiday celebration. A larger study later found that certain holidays (Christmas and Thanksgiving, in this case) and personally meaningful days (birthdays) had no significant effect on patterns of dying. But this phenomenon doesn’t lend itself easily to statistical analysis, either: The importance of holidays, for instance, can’t quite stand in for the very individual motivations that define the anecdotes shared in hospital break rooms or around a dinner table. And the human truth that many recognize in these stories raises the question of whether we believe them any less fully in the absence of proof.

Palliative care often involves helping people confront and develop a relationship to uncertainty, which governs so much of the experience of illness. And when my patients tell me about themselves and about who they are now that they are sick, willpower often makes an appearance. Many say that if they focus on the positive, or visualize the disappearance of their cancer, or fight hard enough, they will win the battle for more time. I hear in their words echoes of what Nietzsche wrote, what the psychiatrist Viktor Frankl used to make sense of his years in German concentration camps: “He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.”

And we want to believe that love or desire or commitment or heroism is still possible right up until the very end. As my patients grow sicker, and as death approaches, I talk with them and their families about what they can hope for even if a cure isn’t possible. That, in fact, death can still contain something generative. A time that may have seemed beyond further meaning becomes instead an opportunity, or an extension of the dying person’s commitments to their country, their family, their dreams. Soon, President Carter will be able to cast that vote: Next week, Georgia registrars will start mailing out absentee ballots; early voting begins the week after that. His promise to himself is a reminder that dying cannot fully dampen purpose, even as a person’s life narrows.

The idea that willpower can be an ally against death is appealing too, because it offers the possibility of transcendence, of defying the limits that the body, or illness, may impose. But, having also seen the many ways that the body does not bend to the mind, I do find myself regarding willpower with caution: What if you as a person are a fighter, but your body simply cannot fight the cancer any longer? I wonder, with my patients, if they can strive for more time without shouldering personal responsibility for the limits of biology. Similarly, two people on ventilators may love their families equally. One may die only after the final beloved family member arrives, whereas the other may die before the person rushing across the ocean makes it home. We don’t always know why. If Carter casts his vote and dies shortly thereafter, that might affirm the notion that others, too, can write the final sentence in their story. But what would it mean if Carter died before casting his vote? If he lived another year, or if he lived to see Donald Trump take office again, or watch the election be violently contested? Living with loss requires remembering that we can locate the person we have loved or admired in any given set of events that comprised their life, not just the last one.

I try to imagine my family friend’s long flight from Los Angeles to Delhi, and her ride in the taxi back to Punjab. I think about how she found a way to endure what she was told she couldn’t, all to feel beneath her feet the soil she knew best, to die in the one place that she felt belonged to her. What if her doctors had been right and she had died on the plane? My family might have mourned her single-mindedness, or we might have admired her defiance nonetheless. What makes these stories so compelling is that they remind us that death, however ravenous, cannot devour hope or possibility, even if what transpires is not the ending we imagined.

[scratchandplaster]

Stack The Deck - PART 12

CW: PTSD, drug abuse, recapture, regretful Whumper, mention of past torture, Lima syndrome

PART 11 ⇽ [Masterlist] ⇾ PART 13

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"Now comes the best part!" Brooke whispered, quickly sliding the pot from the stove top onto a coaster. The golden liquid inside was bubbling up to the rim, but without a chance to spill over, it was already poured down onto a blanket of crushed ice.

She had to be steady now, line for line of sticky syrup was traced back and forth, patiently waiting for her guest to join in.

Elliot did, eventually, by placing popsicle sticks down and coiling the already hardening candy around them. Although he always kept his left hand in his pocket, far away from any curious eyes, he managed to roll them along the lines of syrup quite well, until a stack of sweet rewards was formed.

"And you never did this when you were younger?" Brooke mumbled while her teeth were desperately trying to unstick from each other.

Elliot nibbled at the corner of his taffy, clumps of ice were still stuck to it: "I don't think so, our snow was too dirty. My uncles took me to winter festivals, though."

He wouldn't have come, if his guilty conscience hadn't forced him this time. He declined invitations and outings over and over since he moved back home, so many had stopped prodding after a while. Except her, she was stuck in his messages like a tick, coming up with all sorts of reasons to meet up again.

When asked if it wasn't a bit early for winter traditions, without any snow to be seen in August, Brooke was determined that it was never too soon for maple taffy. She didn't wait for the seasons.

She didn't question his absence either, and they never talked about the job - how it used to be. As the days grew shorter, so did his hope to join her once more.

All in all, Brooke hid her interest very well, even after he had to take his daily meds in front of her: little chalky pills he swallowed down with the help of tart and sticky candy.

"So, I thought," she started after they cleaned up all the dishes, "we could watch a movie, to get the Christmas spirit going."

"No space for Halloween in your holiday plans?" Elliot asked with a tired smile, though he wouldn't mind leaving horror movies on pause this year. Or however long it would take until he felt like himself.

Brooke shook her head: "Not really my thing, but we could call it even and watch Nightmare Before Christmas."

A part of him wanted this more than anything, this comfy sliver of normality, but a glance out of the window was enough to tell that Elliot had overstayed his welcome.

"It's getting dark already," the quiet apology towards his host was rewarded with a scrunched brow, "My, uh, mom wants me to help with dinner."

She didn't mind the shitty lie, that's what she got for gossiping around with strangers in the restroom. Brooke was sure Elliot had been told about the quick chat in every detail.

"No problem, what about next week?"

He agreed eventually, planning to cancel if he felt like it. Or maybe they could do it at his place, his parents would love this sign, him linking-up with friends again.

Elliot was a bit embarrassed by it, more so scared, but Brooke even walked him to the train stop. Standing engulfed by a crowd should've made him feel secure, at least he desperately waited for it.

I'm safe, I'm safe, nothing is going to happen. Nevertheless, Elliot recognized him sometimes: in advertisements, in the bus, as sneaking shadows at the corner of his eyes.

It was nice being out again, exhausting, but nice. He waved Brooke goodbye.

Everything is okay. It hadn't been a bad day, so why did he feel so uneasy? It's been fine so far, no need to start whining. Especially back home, I'll just upset mom too.

Another pill should soothe his racing mind, but that's it, he didn't want to act plastered in public. It was all agreed upon, he could increase the dosage as-needed: doctor's orders.

It. Is. Fine.

He could taste the rumbling heartbeat in his throat, and his left arm woke slowly from its medically-induced slumber. Too much, just too much at once.

Home- a bad idea. If whining upset her already, a full on panic attack wouldn't help either.

He tried to tune the people around him out; were they staring? Of course, they were. Sour spit collected at the back of his mouth, begging to be let out, but no matter how much he tried to keep focus, he stumbled out of the train one station too early. 

Elliot needed air, a second to breathe.

Automatically, he started fidgeting with the cap of the pill bottle. How many did he take by now? Whatever, one more wouldn't make him hurt any worse than he was now. Elliot finally got a grip on it and forced the tablet down dry.

There he was again: climbing out of the station to stroll along a lonely sidewalk in the dark. Exactly what he was trying to dodge.

Great plan, fucking brilliant.

A forced calm finally started to spread. Fatigue hit him with a gentle fist, but it was welcome, the better of the two moods.

A new message popped up on the phone display, making Elliot jump weakly:

Are you home? 

So to speak. He sent a thumbs up for Brooke because "- she seems so well organized."

Illusions made his head spin with every step.

Don't think about that, look for a place to rest.

Elliot was sure he fell at some point, but was right back on his feet, stumbling over to a bench. An inviting offer in the abandoned street.

What did Dad tell me? Five things you can see- five things you can...hear...five thin...gs...

Tired breaths began to calm his system slowly, and the tight warmth in his chest kept his pain down.

He closed his eyes to rest for a bit, just a moment of-

--------

Elliot woke up slowly. Keeping his eyes softly closed, he tried to assess how bad it hit him this time.

After a night out in the cold, he counted himself lucky if his feet were still attached to the rest of him. It would take hours to shake the frost out of his bones, to creep back home for breakfast, but that's what one gets for overreaching.

He waited for the biting cold on his face, for the wind licking at the shell of his ears. But every painful itch turned out to only be a passing tickle, not even the traffic noise had woken him up.

His body felt warm and relaxed, covered by a soft blanket. He still couldn't manage to peel his eyelids open, too confusing was the silent murmur that this was off. That something was wrong.

First, both his jacket and shoes were missing. A sigh of relief echoed through the room.

Elliot had made it home, thank goodness! No future adventures in the evening for him, he knew being with Brooke had been a bad idea; not because of her, of course not, but he just wasn't... made for this anymore. As new waves of anxiety tried to stir up, a heavy weight pressed down on his chest: weird, he would never let Ginkgo run around at night.

Oh, quick, I need to feed her and clean up the cage.

While at it, his mother was in dire need of a hug until she would forgive him for still keeping up with his bullshit. Making her worry to death about her son, Elliot knew better than that.

Finally rubbing the grainy dust from his eyes, the first thing Elliot noticed was a blurred shape at the foot of his bed. The more his vision cleared up, the louder his heart pounded against the blanket and the hand above his own. No face was needed to recognize the person sitting next to him, he knew exactly who decided to haunt him today.

Oh, this again. Elliot quickly shut his eyes back to familiar darkness, cursing his stupid brain for dreaming up these memories. Sleep paralysis, very original, thank you.

They would fade, like they always did. He was home, he was safe...

...

..

.

Something was wrong.

Maybe the sun shining through the window that made his eyes water in face of brightness, an impossible task in his own windowless bedroom; maybe the fact that he'd rather die in a ditch than sleep without his wrist brace.

He had to know, and opened his eyes one final time - this was not his room, not his home. A trick of the tired mind, it simply had to be, Elliot prayed while looking the man of his nightmares straight in the face.

"Hi," Morris whispered, hand on top of broken hand.

No.

Not this.

Not again.

That wretched man slowly leaned forward to let his elbow rest on his knee, an expectant smile on his lips.

Staying horribly numb, Elliot's left arm automatically jerked back to his waist. He felt himself being dragged to that house and if he finally dared to be honest with himself, a part of him had never left.

--------

His guest gave Morris nothing, maybe he just didn't hear him right. Even though he specifically refrained from sitting on the bed and gave him some space to breathe, all the effort didn't seem to be enough. Elliot snapped up to sit ramrod straight under the covers, his breathing hastened to let his restless stare stop on Morris. 

Here they were at last, and this time nothing would go wrong.

"Uhm, do you want me to start or-" Morris said, a bit flustered and picking eagerly at the sheets. The answer came instantly: "I don't know where she is!"

"Who?"

"Wha-"

"Are you still high? It's been hours, that can't be right."

Much to Elliot's relief, Morris let go of him to turn around with a worried frown and fumbled for something at the foot of the armchair he was sitting in. Through blank fear, getting up and walking out was not even considered yet; but one thing came to Elliot's mind despite it all. The thing the world spun around.

"Amber. I don't know-"

"Ohh," Morris cut him off with a small laugh, forehead wrinkled in reassurance, "No, no, this is not about her. I think she had her claws on me for long enough."

Elliot fucked up bad this time. All the simmering fear, anger and helplessness pushed down on him with crushing force. Brooke - the crowd - Morris, it went over in the blink of an eye, his emotions couldn't catch up to the shock and the pills; and he was thankful for it. For letting himself hide inside a little longer.

Still, the icy-blue stare demanded his attention. He had called himself paranoid, laying awake at night to let his fears flirt with this exact scenario again and again, now he knew it had been warranted. Elliot felt it the first time he dragged himself home, just as intense as when he lied to his doctors all those times. Cluelessness spread and made Elliot trip over his own heartbeat.

"I-I didn't tell anyone either." he swallowed thickly, "I know what you said, I didn't forget."

Morris gaze softened, somehow relieved that he wasn't the only skittish one of them.

"You thought about me a lot, huh?"

He meant it to be playful, but seeing how much this comment made Elliot flinch back, he needed to choose his next words more wisely. Nothing but smooth sailing from here on.

He wants to know if I'm still in line. If I fear him more than I look for justice. Elliot would grant him that, gladly so: "Every day."

Much to his confusion, he just needed two words to make Morris empty eyes glow with joy.

This was good, great even, right? Keeping him satisfied, not provoke the anger that cost them so much already. Old survival methods slowly clawed their way back to the surface.

"Really?!“ Morris tone was laced with pure satisfaction, and if asking his guest, it was won out of superiority. Another fallacy that wouldn't be corrected anytime soon.

Instead, he just managed a weak nod above his sweaty hands. Elliot didn't trust his own voice, but still had to push forward.

"I don't really know why I'm here. If it's not about her...can I go then, please? My...my dad will be home in a few days, I miss him so much," his shaky tone somehow pushed out, helpless to stop the tears that started collecting and threatened to flow over. He should've watched that damn movie with Brooke; too late, all in vain.

Somehow, Morris didn't like this at all. Screaming and crying: no fun. How did Elliot already forget that?

"Why are you upset? Don't- no, that's not how it's supposed to go!"

Staying calm to ignore this dreaded feeling took everything out of Morris; if anything, he was the one allowed to be upset! He had been lied to, that old whore kept him away from her son, let him stew in pain for nearly a year. He was deprived of everything he deserved...

But wait, this was perfect: a gradual start. They both had been given time to process, hopefully enough of it to reward Morris for his good behavior. The lean years are over.

"One second," he finally huffed out, a tense hand running through his hair, "this is all wrong, I have a whole plan made up. Wait, wait!"

Knowing how this man's plans usually worked out, Elliot could do nothing but brace himself. Even trying to shrink further under the covers was only commented by a crooked smile: "I practiced, don't laugh!"

Elliot would never dare to, he hadn't in weeks. A quick clearing of his throat gave the go-ahead.  

"I'm really sorry for what happened. I lost control: of you, of the...situation. I'm sorry you were hurt, and I will make it up to you. But first, I just have to know:" stabilizing himself on his twitching knees, Morris finally let the dreaded question out, "Can you forgive me?"

Nothing but static whirred throughout his mind.

"Yeah," Elliot stuttered, "S-sure. It's alright."

In an instant, a pressure inside the room was lifted. Exhaling with a deep sigh, Morris steadied his forehead on his folded hands: "That's great, thank you. You're just great." We can go forward then.

A guilty conscience does weigh heavy, it seemed. That was it? This was no tasteless joke, all he wanted was absolution, granting at least one of them their piece of mind.

Suddenly, Elliot felt unreasonably bold.

"I need to leave."

"No, not yet," came the firm answer.

There it was, the catch. Who needed to call back this time?

Morris read the hollow why off him in a second and replied with a look Elliot couldn't place. Pity, maybe, with an unhealthy glow of hunger.

"Elliot, I know a junkie when I see one."

Don't let it be fentanyl, Morris prayed, otherwise he would tie him to the bed frame and never let him set foot on a street again. But he wanted to keep this topic on the back burner for now, to let new trust sprout.

Junkie - the nerve to even imply that had Elliot heat up in anger. Especially when it came from him.

"In my jacket," all Morris found was a bottle of Tramadol 100, half empty, "That's my medication, my-my painkillers. I need to take them every day, I got a prescription!"

Perhaps Morris' stock was running low. Elliot would help him make ends meet freely, however much he liked. Well, he had to be let go for that first.

"Sure you do. That's how it usually starts."

Elliot hesitated a second too long, thinking of another way out.

Meanwhile, his newest host had talked himself into a passionate monologue: "Yeah, you wouldn't believe how much shit they are stuffing down people's throats, but you're good, aren't you?"

"Yes, it's okay. I-"

"That's why I found you in Yaletown, passed out cold and begging to get robbed, mhh? Because you have everything under control."

This left them speechless. Elliot noticed the urge to cry freely this time, he was out of wits and excuses that wouldn't get cut down in a heartbeat.

On the contrary, Morris seemed triumphant about Elliot's little slip-up. Happy even, if one dared to look closer.

Somewhere at the foot of the bed, a phone started ringing. For the first time during this short waking-nightmare, Morris gave a nervous glance towards the door, biting his lip and clenching his fingers into a fist.

"Doesn't really matter," he decided quickly, "we have enough time to catch up later."

Later? That would imply stretching out this farce.

Finally, Elliot was awake.

"Morris, please listen-"

"Call me Chris."

Elliot was dead, he finally managed to fuck up the rest of his life and go straight to hell.

Make him like me. No, no, stop it. As if that ever helped.

Gathering his racing thoughts, Elliot hoped there was still a chance to steer things in his favor.

"Thank you for..." Abducting me? Helping me? Those words would never leave his mouth, "...letting me crash here. But we both know that I can't stay; with you." Wherever here was this time.

"You're nervous. That's alright, that's understandable. We can work through that!"

The steady anxiety collecting under his heart finally came to the forefront. Five - five things - things I can - His little tricks didn't seem to gain traction, he couldn't even hear himself think through the phone's incessant hum.

"D-don't you want to get that?"

Morris stretched out to snatch and softly cradle Elliot's left hand again. After the medicine's sweet numbness that held him together would fade, every touch will retaliate itself.

Dead focused on him again, caught between seconds that spanned hours, the man calling himself Chris now kept him close. Elliot was never spared, they had never parted ways.

"No, I don't think I will."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername, @canislycaon24

[esta-elavaris]

i'd love it if you could post the bullet points of the plot! i mean i don't think much of my writing so i wouldn't be making an attempt, but bullet points to read are better than nothing lol

Okay! Here goes --

So in what happened already, the OC (Heather) was staying in Hogsmeade during weekends to supply Sirius with food/shelter. She works as an assistant at an apothecary, she was a Slytherin when she attended Hogwarts, and didn't find out about her true bloodline until Harry started Hogwarts, where she finds out he's her younger brother.

They'd slowly get closer and closer on these Hogsmeade weekends, it start off kinda awkward but Sirius asks questions about her past (both involving Harry and not involving Harry) which would be told in flashbacks.

I think he'd get frustrated because she doesn't consider James and Lily her actual parents, but he otherwise likes her and doesn't want to fuck up his chance at getting food and somewhere warm to sleep by commenting too much on it.

He'd also see her very obvious fondness/protectiveness of Harry and figure that makes up for any "wrongs" in how she views her birth parents. There'd be flashbacks here and there to how she got close to Harry during his first year (her final year) - where things would progress from being awkward, to a slow kind of fondness (because neither of them have proper family) to her losing her shit when he ends up in the hospital wing at the end of the first movie, basically staying by his bedside the whole time and realising "well, I have a little brother now huh" in terms of how she ended up accepting him.

I think? At the end of book four when Voldie is revealed as being back? Sirius ends up being snuck into Hogwarts in dog form? It's been ages since I read them, but I'm certain that happens. Heather would also be there. Maybe Harry notices their bond and how at ease they've grown with each other and naively comments like "aw see she thinks of him as a father figure like I do :)" and Hermione sees what's really on the cards and uhhhh cringes quite a bit.

Book 5 ~

Heather is fully involved in Order business now, and bonds more and more with Sirius over frustration with Dumbledore's insistence that Harry needs to be kept in the dark.

At some point they have mutual "oh no, you've been hot this whole time????" realisations - for Heather, it's seeing Sirius actually clean and fed and not? Living feral? For Sirius, the realisation is a bit more dramatic. Heather is super into music and the Wizarding music scene, and is attacked by Death Eaters in a Wizarding pub when she's "off the clock", so she's rushed back to Grimmauld Place and she just happens to be very dolled up for the evening.

Anyway, from here on she's basically forced into hiding with Sirius, too - Snape confirms that it's basically common knowledge among the Death Eaters by now that she's Harry's sister, and she'd make for a stellar hostage.

From here it's a lot of forced proximity stuff. They continue to fall for each other while in hiding, end up properly getting together. Pretty much all of the Order think it's a terrible idea (age gap, worries that they're getting into it for the wrong reasons). Harry finds out by accident, probably during the Christmas holidays, and is fuming. In part because he drastically misunderstood their "closeness", and also because it's yet another way that he feels like people are keeping things from him -- and these two are the ones who are supposedly against him being kept in the dark about everything else going on.

There *would* be a nasty argument at some point or another. Probably because Sirius is dying to leave and basically gagging for an excuse, he finds one (Harry's safety) and Heather tries to talk him out of it - Sirius tries to paint it as her being uncaring about Harry, rather than her knowing that either of them leaving would just put him in more danger - and makes some comment along the lines of "now I can really see why you're a Slytherin huh".

^ Would probably happen just before the big stand-off at the Ministry. He leaves in the aftermath of said blazing row, Heather follows.

Big fight at the Ministry. There's a skirmish with Heather and a Death Eater, during which her wand is stomped on. She spots Bellatrix getting ready to Avada Kedavra Sirius, uses the broken wand anyway against Bella - it does hit her, but it also rebounds and hits Heather too. The spell I had planned was "Diffindo" - so Bella loses a finger or too, but Heather also ends up cut up real bad. Nearly dies. Sirius is uhhh not thrilled. Especially considering the note they left things on.

The papers etc. turn up just in time to photograph Voldie, but also Heather and Sirius as she's just shy of bleeding out. His name is cleared (if Harry was telling the truth about Voldemort, they kinda have to trust him about Sirius now), Heather and Sirius are taken to Hogwarts to recover and get away from the papers.

Sirius gets his moment of walking through the doors of Hogwarts as a free man uwu.

During the summer holidays between 5 and 6, Sirius proposes to Heather. I did have this bit properly planned out - they'd be talking and she's say how she's considering taking Potter as a surname (a big moment bc she previously rejected anything to do with James and Lily) in a show of support for Harry, especially now that everybody knows anyway. She's pondering whether to hyphenate it with her OG surname, just go full "Potter", whether "Heather Potter" sounds decent, and Sirius is just like "How about Heather Black?" - she thinks he's kidding til he gets down on one knee.

I'm not sure what would happen after that. A wedding, obviously, but in terms of books 6 and 7 I didn't think ahead that far. I think they'd definitely be a tumultuous couple because of their differences - Sirius is very brash and reckless, Heather is far more cautious and anxious, and while they can be good influences on one another because of that, it could also lead to fights - especially because they both have tempers. When they're in bad moods, that boldness can be exhausting, and Sirius can be hurtful when he's angry so he could paint Heather's cautiousness as cowardice. There'd definitely be a moment or two where he'd be like "you're not James' daughter at all" and she's respond with "I don't fucking want to be."

That being said, they're both fiercely loyal and they would love each other dearly. They just have independent issues to work through that could rub off badly on one another when they clash. Some folk weren't keen on the age gap but honestly when it comes to Sirius I think it makes sense, because he was locked up at ~21, and the books make it very clear that he's kind of? Stuck at that mental age now? Becuase that was when his life stopped?

But I also think the whole incident at the Ministry would temper their worst instincts when it comes to their fighting, because they'd see how easily a conversation can become their last and they'd learn from that. Bellatrix would also majorly be out for revenge after losing a finger or two to Heather, so that's fun.

Like there were some fun ideas there - I was really excited about the Ministry showdown, and the proposal, but I just didn't have a whole lot to fill up the gaps between that, and those were some hefty gaps 💀

[heyitsbramgreenfeld]

I have a story about one of the first times I really noticed cultural Christianity.

So, back when I was in 10th grade, my chemistry class was having a conversation about dying Easter eggs. I’m not sure why or how it came up, but some people were talking about it. Now I was in the process of converting to Judaism at this time, and I had grown up in a Christian household, so I had dyed eggs before. But, I was sitting next to a girl who also happened to be Jewish (she wasn’t a convert, and grew up Jewish), who asked how the eggs were dyed. Just a simple question. She wasn’t sure if it was food dye, or paint, or what. But almost EVERYONE in the class started saying things like “what kind of a question is that”, “how have you never dyed Easter eggs before”, and “how do you not know how to dye eggs”, to which she responded “I’m not Christian. I don’t celebrate Easter. I’ve never dyed eggs before.” And then of course, sooo many people started being like, “well I’m not Christian either. I just celebrate Easter.” I live in a fairly non-religious state, so we have a lot of atheists. But, a lot of them are culturally Christian. They celebrate Easter and Christmas.

There is a difference between not being religiously Christian, but still being culturally Christian, and not being Christian, full stop. My friend never dyed eggs on Easter, because why would she? It’s a holiday centered around a guy that she doesn’t not worship, nor does anyone in her family worship. But the other people in our class? Their parents, or grandparents, or someone close to them believes that Jesus is our savior. They have people close to them that are religiously Christian. THAT’S why they celebrate Easter.

There’s nothing wrong with being culturally Christian. I mean, I have some Christian friends that disagree. But I see it more as a grey area. But it becomes harmful when you refuse to admit you’re culturally Christian. Those people in my class were so quick to say they weren’t Christian, some of them disgusted that we would even think they were, and yet. They get presents for Christmas. They decorate eggs for Easter. And they love doing those things. But then, when the Jewish kids, or Muslim kids, or kids who have no tie to Christianity start assuming they’re Christian, they get so defensive.

Listen. You don’t get to celebrate the Christian holidays and then get disgusted when someone calls you culturally Christian. You are. That’s okay. But you have to understand that, because you are culturally Christian, you have different experiences than, say, the Jewish kids, or the Muslim kids. It’s just so hard trying to explain how us not being Christian is different that a culturally Christian atheist not being Christian.

[petit-chaton]

Cheesecake

A/N: for @typical-panster; I'm your Secret Santa assignment! Although I have two things to say; one, sorry to get this in so late!! I'm the world's best procrastinator :,) And two, I feel like this was super rushed, and I also had another idea for it that might have been better to write, so if you'd like another I can do that! I just feel like this wasn't really the best, so I'd be happy to write another for you :) It won't offend me either way!! anyway, sorry, end of note XD (@mlsecretsanta)

Chat Noir didn’t really mean to wander into the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery.

But, somehow or other, he did.

It was the weekend, which meant it would be two days before Adrien could see his friends again. Two days spent cooped up in his room at home, doomed to celebrate Christmas by himself. Not the most thrilling prospect. 

Chat Noir, however, had other plans. 

After all, he didn’t have to stay in his room all weekend. He could go places that Adrien couldn’t. 

Except for the fact that when he had transformed into his alter-ego and launched out the window towards Paris’s snowblown skyline, he had no idea where to go. Most places were shut down for Christmas, meaning the few remaining options were less exciting than he had hoped. 

(Maybe he should just go and sit at the top of the Eiffel Tower or something. It would be a change of scenery at least, and he might even bump into Ladybug there).  

He found himself walking past the Dupain-Cheng bakery after a few moments of aimless wandering, and the smell wafting from inside– paired with the “OPEN” sign hanging in the bakery window– were motivation enough to distract him from his Eiffel Tower backup plan. He shouldered open the door and stepped in, inhaling appreciatively at the delectable warmth that swept past him almost instantly. 

“Be with you in a minute!” called a voice from the back of the bakery, so Chat wandered over to the display cases and peered inside, his mouth already watering. Macarons, baguettes, cupcakes, rolls, tarts, and croissants were just some of the many items shelved inside. He was trying to decide between a cupcake and a croissant when someone stepped out of the room in the back of the bakery. 

Marinette? 

Chat Noir blinked at her, and Marinette blinked back. Of course, he shouldn’t be surprised– this was her parents’ bakery, after all, and he had heard her say before that she sometimes worked shifts when she had free time or if her parents were unavailable. Still, though, he hadn’t really been considering that she might be here. 

It was a pleasant surprise, though. 

After a moment of silence, Marinette managed to say, “Chat Noir! Um– what are you doing here? It’s Christmas Eve, shouldn’t you be with family or…or something?” 

Chat shrugged, examining the claws on one hand. “They didn’t have Christmas plans. Or at least, they didn’t have plans that included me, so…” He cleared his throat and leaned one palm against the counter, meeting Marinette’s gaze. “Um, what would you recommend? I was thinking of a croissant, but I can get those any day. So is there anything here that’s…extra special, I guess?” 

Marinette seemed surprised by the question, scratching her chin before answering. “Well, we do have a few holiday treats right now…like our triple-chocolate trifle, or our gingerbread truffles. Oh! And if you do order a holiday item, you get a complimentary cup of hot chocolate with it.” She tapped a finger against her lower lip. “Personally, I would recommend the white chocolate cheesecake with peppermint sauce. It’s to die for, in my opinion. But that’s just my preference; you don’t have to get it.” 

“Sounds great! I love white chocolate; I’ll take it,” Chat said. 

“So do you want the drink with that too? It’s free.” 

“Psh, is that even a question?” he replied with a snort. 

Marinette’s lips twitched upwards in a grin. “I should’ve figured; I feel the same way. I mean, why bother asking? Some people don’t like it, though, so I have to.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll be right back with your hot chocolate. I’ll grab the cheesecake in a sec.” 

“Okay!” Chat leaned on his elbows on the counter as Marinette disappeared into the back room, letting his gaze drift around the bakery. Maybe after this he would still head over to the Eiffel Tower, just to see if Ladybug was there. Maybe not. 

Marinette returned bearing a foam cup full of frothy hot chocolate, topped in whipped cream and shaved peppermint, and set it in front of him before opening a display case and withdrawing a cheesecake. She cut off a generous slice and drizzled some peppermint sauce over it, sliding the slice onto a paper plate and pushing it across the counter to him. 

After paying for the food, Chat paused, ears flicking. “Is it okay if I eat it in here?” he questions. “It’s kinda cold outside.” 

“Oh, sure, no problem!” Marinette answered. “It’s been really slow here anyway, being Christmas Eve and all, so you’re more than welcome to stay.” 

“Thanks,” he said appreciatively, grabbing a plastic fork from the small bucket on the counter and digging into his slice of cheesecake. “Thish ish delishows,” he mumbled around a mouthful, making Marinette laugh. 

“Thank you,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I, uh, I made it, actually.” 

“Really?” He stared at her wide-eyed, and she snorted. “You don’t have to act so surprised. I do have some talents.” 

“Oh, I know,” Chat said, then paused when her eyebrows shot up. “That, uh, sounded creepy, sorry. I just meant that I’ve heard about some of the stuff you’re good at. Like….designing clothes. And baking.” He pointed to his cheesecake with a grin. 

Marinette’s cheeks turned pink. “Well, thanks. I never feel like I’m good enough at either, so…it helps to know that one of Paris’s superheroes has heard about what I do.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure Ladybug would love this too,” Chat elaborated quickly, misunderstanding her. “And how do you feel like you’re not good at baking? This is like, the best dessert I’ve ever had, hands down. Or should I say,” he added with a smirk, “paws down. Since, y’know, I’m a cat.” 

Marinette giggled, which surprised him. Generally the public– and Ladybug– didn’t find his puns very funny. “Well,” Marinette said, “I appreciate the com-paw-ment.” She paused, face wrinkling. “That was terrible, I know.” 

Chat tried not to spray crumbs across the counter. “It was purrfect. Don’t apawlogize.” 

Marinette laughed so hard she bent double. “Wow, those were awful,” she gasped, wiping her eyes. 

“Thatsh what punsh are,” Chat said around another mouthful. “Thatsh what makesh them sho funny.” 

“I could argue with you on the ‘funny’ part, but sure, I guess so.” Marinette propped her chin in one hand, watching as he scraped up the last crumbs of his cheesecake before reaching for his cup of hot chocolate. 

“I need to come here more often,” Chat said after taking a long drink of hot chocolate. “I mean, really. I can’t believe I’ve never been here before.” 

“Oh, well…you’re free to come anytime,” Marinette responded brightly. “The white chocolate cheesecake is a holiday special, though. Although I might take pity on you and make you one outside of the season if you’re polite.” 

“Really?” Chat’s ears shot up as he wiped away the hot chocolate mustache he had obtained. “That would be pawmazing. Maybe I can bring Ladybug, too!” 

“Oh…” Marinette’s smile faltered slightly. “Yeah, you could. If it’s convenient for her.” 

“Oh yeah.” Chat’s shoulders drooped. “She doesn’t usually want to hang out much after missions. Has other stuff going on, I guess.” 

“Yeah.” Marinette went quiet, picking at a crack in the counter. After a moment she glanced up at him again, forehead creasing slightly. “So…what did you mean earlier when you said your family had plans but they didn’t include you?” 

“Oh.” Chat bit his lip, staring into his cup of hot chocolate. “Um….it’s difficult to explain. But my dad doesn’t really do Christmas anymore, and…I don’t have anybody else. So it’s usually just me.” 

“I–” Marinette paused, taken aback. “I’m sorry. That’s awful. You…don’t have anyone? No friends?” 

“I have friends,” he said with a shrug, “I’m just not given much freedom.” His brow wrinkled as he realized the irony of what he had just said. “Outside of being Chat Noir, I mean. Obviously no one knows that I’m Chat Noir, but…I can’t really use my Miraculous to be able to do things with my friends, y’know? That wouldn’t be fair to Ladybug. She…she just sees the suits as business, so I try to as well. But, in all honesty…it’s the only time I can breathe.” 

“Oh.” Marinette blinked, then reached across suddenly and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry. Have you tried talking to Ladybug about it?” 

Chat drew a deep breath, ears drooping. “I have, but…she never really listens. I don’t think she ever realizes I’m serious when I tell her. To her it’s impossible to see our suits as fun, so I guess she thinks I feel the same way.” 

“Well…I say you should try to talk to her again. Maybe…maybe she just doesn’t realize she’s hurting you, because she’s caught up in her own problems. That sounds like it could be the reason to me.” 

“Yeah.” Chat looked up at Marinette again, startled for a second by the familiar blueness of her eyes. Almost like– “Thanks for the advice, Mari. And for the food.” He drained the remains of his drink, then crumpled the plate and cup and threw them away.

“Of course.” Marinette hesitated. “So…are you just gonna head home now? To spend Christmas by yourself?” 

Chat twisted his ring around his finger, thinking. “Well, earlier I was considering heading over to the Eiffel Tower to see if I could bump into Ladybug, but the chances of that are slim. I’m sure she’s celebrating with her family and friends, so there’s really no point.” 

“But what if you do bump into her?” Marinette blurted. “I mean, you never know. She might be up there looking for you.” 

Chat gave a harsh laugh. “Yeah, as if. I don’t think Ladybug would ever come looking for me.” 

Marinette flinched slightly, but before Chat could think anything of it, she continued softly, “I think you should go, just to check. I have a good feeling about it, y’know? I’m sure Ladybug’s just been struggling with her own problems lately. ” 

Chat stared at her for a moment, eyes wide, and Marinette offered him a smile in return. “Yeah…I guess you’re right,” he said after a few seconds, breaking into a grin. “Thanks, Marinette.” 

Before she could respond, he leaned over the counter and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, then pulled away, face flaming. “A-anyway, I’ll see you around, I guess. Thanks for the pep talk.” 

“Anytime,” Marinette breathed, waving as Chat headed to the door and pushed it open. 

It fell shut behind him, and Chat inhaled, filling his lungs with frigid air. A moment later he unclipped his baton from his belt and extended it, launching away towards the skyline, towards the Eiffel Tower. 

Marinette had given him good advice, and brought up a good point– Ladybug probably was struggling with things he had no knowledge of. Maybe it would be good for both of them to talk and get a few things off their chest. And, like Marinette had said, Chat suddenly had a good feeling about finding Ladybug at the Eiffel Tower. A very good feeling. 

Marinette was a true friend. And maybe…maybe she could be something more, too.

Chat shook the thought from his head, swinging on towards the horizon. 

But the thought persisted, until he wasn’t entirely sure about his feelings anymore. 

He squinted into the wind. He’d have to get his feelings sorted out later. For now, he was going to meet his Lady. 

[jbaileyfansite]

Old Jonathan Bailey Interview for South Downs (2012)

At the time of the interview, Jonathan Bailey was appearing as Jeremy Duffield in South Downs, which is part of a Double Bill with The Browning Version playing at the Harold Pinter Theatre until July 2012. “They’re two gems that are quite simple but also great writing, two brilliant stories that are really moving, that are told, I think, touch wood, really well.”

Jonathan has many television credits to his name including playing the lead role of Leonardo da Vinci in BBC1’s Leonardo. He has also performed with the Royal Shakespeare Company, playing Prince Arthur in King John.

Jonathan took some time out from his busy schedule to answer some questions about himself and his career. Enjoy!

You were born in Aylesbury Vale, Oxfordshire. What was it like growing up there? I was born in a village called Benton in Oxfordshire and it was typical village life. I went to the local C of E Primary School, and grew up with my three sisters, Mum and Dad. It was good that you could just have friends in walking distance at that sort of age and basically just make mud pies in the street. It wasn’t however particularly productive for performing arts.

What memories do you have of performing in school productions? I remember one role where I was playing a raindrop in the story of Noah and his Ark. I also remember playing a shepherd in the nativity when I was about four.

Where did you train and how did that prepare you for a career on the stage? Well I didn’t go to drama school. I started acting when I was really young, about seven in The Christmas Carol at the Barbican in London. They sent out the casting director to the suburbs to find cast and I remember singing ‘Where is Love’ in the church, not really aware of who it was for, and my parents definitely had no idea. After that I had an agent and came within the structure and the rules of not missing school. I managed to do either a play or a little bit of TV during the summer holidays. I was super lucky. Although I think drama school is really important I don’t believe there’s a right or wrong way of becoming an actor. If I hadn’t had the experiences of working with other actors at a young age I don’t think I would have gone to drama school as those opportunities enthused me and made me passionate about drama. I learnt quite a lot on the job and was able to take risks when playing parts. So yeah I didn’t go to drama school but everything worked out okay.

You have numerous television credits to your name including Channel 4’s Campus, BBC3’s Pramface and BBC1’s Leonardo, where you play the lead role of Leonardo da Vinci. What has been your favourite television role to date and why? I have just got back from Cape Town where we have been recording the BBC’s Leonardo. Playing Leonardo da Vinci himself is very special. There’s also a lot of cool stuff to do such as artwork on stage, fighting with weapons etc. So actually it’s a bit of playground as the props and the sets they created are excellent.

What do you like most about recording in front of a camera? You can do the take again and I like that you’ve got downtime in between. I quite like the idea that you get to do it and then it’s there and you can’t really do anything about it. On stage if you do something wrong you can’t make it right for that performance but you can make it right for the next performance. I quite enjoy that.

Where did you make your professional stage debut and what was the role? Well, on paper it’s playing Prince Arthur in King John for the RSC, and that was when I was about 15 I think. I think that was the first time that I was totally aware of what I was doing.

How would you describe performing in the RSC? It was great. Everyone was so on top of what they were doing. I remember it was quite physically challenging. There’s also a lot of work vocally and I remember having bits of plastic in my cheek to try and get the pronunciation right. The company of people all work together as a unit and it was a great experience.

Following a successful run at Chichester, South Downs is transferring as part of a Double Bill with The Browning Version, to the Harold Pinter Theatre in the West End. What can you tell us about South Downs and about your character Jeremy Duffield, and how he fits into the storyline? Both the plays are set in Public Schools. For the Browning Version, Terrence Rattigan wrote about his time at Harrow. Dave Hare was asked by the Terrence Rattigan Estate to write a play to be performed alongside The Browning Version as a Double Bill. South Downs is based on his time at Lancing College and culminates in an act of kindness by a student’s mother. John Blakemore is set apart by the fact that his forefathers hadn’t gone to public school and he doesn’t come from a typical public school family. He is a scholar but he refuses to conform as he considers the environment of the public school to be just a game. There are rules of a very strict hierarchy with the prefects essentially running the day to day matters of the school. Basically John goes to the housemaster with a problem and that’s just not the way the game should be played. A prefect is brought in, Jeremy Duffield, the chap I play, to sort out this precocious boy. John is really suffering and he’s questioning things like why he’s not allowed to wear a CND badge, when everyone else is allowed to wear a crucifix. He’s also considering why his friends all just shut up and listen in class when they don’t fully understand. Jeremy tries to protect him, and fight his corner but the big act of generosity comes from Jeremy’s mother within a conversation and then it sort of plays out nicely.

South Downs is written by David Hare and The Browning Version by Terrence Rattigan. What unites these two plays and what sets them apart? Well they fit together because of that act of kindness. South Downs is from a boy’s perspective. The Browning Version is from the master’s perspective and how the master doesn’t get the respect that he deserves.

How do these two plays compare with your own school days? I think the idea that boys will be boys is an interesting one in South Downs and there’s so much detail. The fact that David Hare based the characters on his school days makes them so real. They’re so typical to anyone who has been to a public school. But for me, specifically similarly to John Blakemore, I had to get a scholarship to go to the school my parents wanted me to go. But there were many differences in the way that the public schools were run in the early sixties where for example there were no locks on the bathroom showers and boys were often forced to swim naked. These things just wouldn’t happen now.  But I think I can relate more to the character and the situation and the feeling of going into a school where you haven’t grown up with the boys that otherwise would have grown up together and gone to prep school and that initial feeling of being an outsider and having to fit in and find out who you are.

There are many plays and musicals to see in the West End, why should theatregoers come and see these two plays? These two plays have some incredible performances and so it’s theatre at its best where people are working hard and they’re putting on plays that are essentially laid quite bare. They’re two gems that are quite simple but also great writing, two brilliant stories that are really moving, that are told, I think, touch wood, really well.

You have a range of roles on your CV including for the RSC, CBBC, regional theatre and the West End. Do you have a particular career path in mind or is diversity the key? I think diversity is the key. I haven’t reached the time yet where I would say yes or no to anything, everything needs to be considered.

The forthcoming run at the Harold Pinter Theatre ends in July, what plans do you have for the remainder of 2012? I’m going to be filming a new comedy for the BBC from the writers of Sherlock before Christmas, that’s been commissioned. So that’s going to be quite hard marketing that whilst in a play. It should be a nice challenge and there is a play that is in the pipeline and if that comes off I’ll be really excited.

What would you consider to be your strengths as an actor? I really enjoy the moments where something goes wrong and I need to improvise and that gives me the ability to act as a ‘safety net’.

What do you like to do away from the stage? I recently bought a mountain bike, so some cycling, walking, going to Cornwall, surfing. And I’m also studying a course with the Open University because I didn’t go to an arts school. I had a place in it which I decided to surrender having deferred twice.

What message would you like say to your supporters? Come and see the play and experience it and see what you think.

Source

[jhoudiey]

I swear this is the last one (for now heh). Can't have rotisserie chicken ships without DUMB AND DUMBER. Questions from here

Even though I've been neglecting them lately they still own my entire life so like... ANYWAYS. Ship questions of my favourite fish and bird.

Pre-relationship

How did they first meet? He stumbles on her experimenting in the Alchemy lab after ditching the entrance ceremony.

What was their first impression of each other? Yoru: who the fuck is this guy and why won't he leave? Floyd: Heh neat bird this is fun.

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together? Not particularly, though Crowley is glad she's making friends.

Who felt romantic feelings first? Floyd cause Yoru is bad at feelings and just thinks any feelings are regular friendship ones, then 'i think i must be getting sick' ones.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings? Both! Floyd at first cause he doesn't want to get stabbed, and Yoru when she realizes cause she doesn't wanna get rejected.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think? That whoever told them must be ready to die.

General

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go? Floyd! He just kisses her out of the blue one day and they go from there. Works out pretty well (last words said before disaster eh?) But don't specifically say HEY WE ARE DATING.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like? Nope.

What was their first kiss like? In the hospital wing when Yoru's complaining that her face is all scarred up.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)? First everything.

What’s their height difference? Age difference? Floyd is 6 inches and 3 months older- I figure adult him is about 8 inches taller.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families? Yoru's relationship with mama leech is pretty rocky, but Crowley adores Floyd.

Who takes the lead in social situations? Floyd, because Yoru's too busy trying to not be perceived.

Who gets jealous easier? Floyd, jealous fish is jealous.

Love

Who said “I love you” first? Floyd, tho Yoru didn't believe it. (again, surely this won't cause any problems in the future right?)

What are their primary love languages? Acts of service

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA? Basically glued together.

What are their favorite things to do together? Cause problems on purpose with people minding their business.

Who’s better at comforting the other? They are both REAL bad at it.

Who’s more protective? Neither, cause they know the other can take care of themselves just fine.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection? Physical!

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise? *lists every emo song I know cause they're a mess* Most notably 'this time imperfect' by AFI

What kind of nicknames do they call each other? when they meet, Floyd calls her "Fugu-chan" and she just calls him Floyd. When they get together he drops her fishname and just calls her Yoru.

Domestic Life

If they get married, who proposes? Floyd does the Christmas after they have mido.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends? Chaos. Just super loud super insane with tons of weird shit. jade, azul, idia, ortho, kalim, ace, ruggie, malleus, lilia, sebek, silver, crowley and vargas attend.

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like? They accidentally have Mido and she is a fucking terrorist (affectionate)

Do they have any pets? They get Mido a slug that she names Timothy.

Who’s the stricter parent? Neither. 'No' Isn't really in either one of their vocabularies.

Who kills the bugs in the house? both.

How do they celebrate holidays? loudly, chaotically.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning? Floyd cause he's a whiner.

Who’s the better cook? Floyd, when he actually feels like cooking.