#just deeply embarrassed that i have irrational feelings

[outer-edges]

there's that tiktok of that stupid man going around like 'oh, what if everyone is fake and i'm the only real person', and i know that everyone is dunking on him for being fucking stupid by posing that question, and that whole thing really is a completely different philosophical can of worms that needs to be unpacked. but like.

idk. sometimes, i legitimately think the opposite. like, no, i am the fake person. everyone else here is real. everyone else has rich inner lives and they're vibrant and they have friends and family and empathy and passion and interests and all that shit i yearn for (and have gotten really good at feigning) but don't actually have.

i just have like...like this stark anhedonia.

i'm the fake person. i'm completely empty. everyone else is real. i'm kind of just here.

and i truly do mean this in like the most neutral way possible. this is something i've more or less made my peace with. but sometimes i wish it wasn't something i had to make peace with, ya know? sometimes i wish i wasn't fundamentally separated from people and could just like connect. sometimes i wish i wasn't so empty. ya know?

[lightseoul]

a/n. second time writing from bkg's perspective. this was so fun! (1.1k)

the moment that cemented bakugou’s resolve to marry you wasn’t exactly grand.

it wasn’t your first kiss.

or the first time you made love to each other.

not even the first time you met his nerd-ass friends or his (slightly) overbearing parents. although those two come as close runner-ups.

no, it was rather a random saturday morning after you spent a night at his place, now clad in what he thinks is nothing but your intimates and a burnt orange t-shirt of his that drapes loosely over your frame.

and as he enters the kitchen and closes the distance between the two of you with a few strides, he can’t help but wonder what you’re doing—deeply focused on your laptop—when you’re probably the one who’s extra pedantic about not bringing work home.

���morning,” he grunts, leaning down to kiss your cheek, which you happily accept. although, to his chagrin, your eyes remain on your computer screen, not even sparing him a single glance.

he knows it’s fucking embarrassing, how strongly you elicit feelings within him without you even fucking trying, but he can’t stop the frown that takes over his face even if he attempted to fight it.

shaking off the irrational disappointment from not even being ignored, he rounds the kitchen island and starts brewing the two of you coffee.

“by the way,” he starts, glancing at you over his shoulder, “the old hag’s birthday is coming up. she wants to have dinner with just the four of us, or some shit.”

“i know,” you simply pipe up from where you’re seated on one of his fancy bar stools, gaze still glued on whatever the fuck it is that’s keeping your attention from him.

he turns to you, a manual coffee grinder in tow. “you do?”

at that, you finally look up at him, an innocent expression etched across your features. “you don’t remember? i asked you when your parents’ birthdays were way back in march.”

way back in march.

back when you unanimously decided to decisively end the dating phase and become boyfriend-girlfriend.

“yeah?” is the only thing he manages to get out.

you let out a soft laugh that’s nothing but music to his ears. “yeah, dummy.”

before you can get to see the red that’s most definitely creeping up to his cheeks, bakugou turns his back against you, returning to busying himself with crushing the beans into fine powder and pouring lukewarm water into the machine.

only a few months before reaching a full year together, and you still manage to make him fucking blush.

over the most mundane things, too.

when he first got into his very first relationship with you at the ripe age of 28, he thought he’d outgrown and was way past the embarrassing shit that the human body was capable of when dealing with anything remotely close to romance.

it didn’t take him long enough into your relationship to find out he was so, so wrong.

sighing, he pours out the cup of ground beans onto the filter, finally pressing the button and bringing the coffee maker to life.

you must be done with what’s highly likely is work by now.

but chancing a glance at you, he’s once again met with palpable disappointment when the very same sight greets him.

before he can rein them in, the words come tumbling out of his lips.

“the fuck is so important on that laptop?”

his booming voice must’ve caught you off guard, because you startle ever so minutely in your seat.

“sorry,” he quickly adds on, albeit through a mutter; frustration with himself and his inability to modulate his voice added to the increasingly long list of emotions he’s having to fucking deal with right now.

waving him off, you shoot him another one of that disarming smile of yours. “‘s funny that you ask. i was just about to ask you for your opinion.”

with that, you gesture him to come close with your fingers. curious, he once again rounds the island, ultimately occupying the spot to your right and leaning down to peer at the small text on your screen.

before he can even get a word in, you hurriedly explain yourself. “mitsuki-san mentioned her personal sewing machine broke, so i’ve been thinking about getting her a new one.”

you point to a sleek, off-white model among what looks to be a vast array of selections, “i researched the specs and i think this one’s the best. what do you think?”

a million things course through his mind in an instant, but what he ends up sputtering out is: “you’re such a fucking nerd, you know that?”

at that, you look up at him, your seemingly perpetually moisturized lips now formed into a playful pout, and it takes everything in him not to just pull you in for a kiss and completely abandon the conversation in its entirety.

but he’d like to think he at least has the slightest bit of self-control.

even if you do wear him the fuck out on a daily basis.

“i just want to make sure it’s perfect!” you argue, shifting to stare at your laptop again and bringing him back to the present. your voice is way smaller when you continue. “…i want her to like me.”

he doesn’t even miss a beat. “she already fucking does, dumbass.”

and she really does.

the morning after bakugou first brought you to meet his parents a whopping two months into calling it official, mitsuki texted him something along the lines of having the family heirloom slash ring already adjusted to fit your finger.

he immediately called the old hag after receiving the message just to reprimand her ear off for being too fucking forward and for meddling too much.

but, if he were to be completely honest with himself, he was angry not because mitsuki was imposing, but because he couldn’t believe his mother beat him to that important realization.

the realization that maybe, just maybe, you’re the one.

and now, as he studies you as you scroll through more and more iterations of the best sewing machines on the market with your eyebrows adorably furrowed in utmost concentration, it dawns on him.

it dawns on him that that maybe just turned into a definitely.

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon

˖⁺‧₊ this one made me smile like an idiot while writing lmao. as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 have a nice day!

[maxsimagination]

jessie fleming x reader being scared of heights

𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙗𝙞𝙖 - 𝙟.𝙛𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜

summary: jess takes yn on a date, but her fear of heights kicks in

-> she short y’all sorry

𖦹 masterlist

𝗜𝗧 ���𝗔𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠 date, with my favourite person.

jessie and i had been dating for a year, so she surprised me with a recreation of our first date for our anniversary, all that time ago.

we had met through football, playing against each other at a national level, then i moved to portland thorns to play alongside her as a teammate. we hit it off and she’d taken me out for lunch at a local festival.

i was unaware of where we were going, jess didn’t tell me anything apart from how to dress.

when we did get there, however, i knew immediately what it was. the theme park was bigger than the one we went to a year ago, but it was still similar. the giant ferris wheel, slides and rides stuck up over the gates, and people were scattered everywhere.

we parked the car and walked up to the admissions desk. and by walk i mean jessie walked up, while i ran up in excitement.

finally we made it in and i immediately pulled jessie over to the dodgems. it had always been my favourite part of theme parks.

jessie took her time with me, letting me bounce around to each different ride or slide. then she walked us over to the ferris wheel.

i felt a bit nervy about the giant wheel, i was never a fan of heights or being high up in the air.

but i went on the ride anyway, i wanted to try for jessie.

we stepped into one of the carriers, then the door slid closed and we started to move. it was only slowly at first then sped up a bit. it wasn’t really going that fast at all, and it was actually pretty safe, but the irrational part of my brain had taken over. i was convinced that i was going to die if i stayed up here any longer.

jessie must’ve noticed that i wasn’t okay, placing her hand on my thigh with a little squeeze.

“yn, what’s wrong?”

“i- um. the, the height. i’m sacred.”

jessie understood immediately, turning me to look directly at her.

“just look at me. look into my eyes. deep breaths, in and out.”

i followed her instructions, breathing deeply, in and out. i could feel myself relax a little at her words.

when the ferris wheel had reached the bottom of the rotation again, somehow, jessie had managed to get the attention of the staff and they had stopped the ride to let us out.

i let out a sigh of relief when i stepped off the giant death trap, feeling slightly embarrassed now that i thought back on the situation.

jessie didn’t say anything, we just walked around the park for a bit before she brought me to a little green area where there were some other people having little picnics.

we sat down on the grass and jessie pulled out some containers from her backpack.

“i’m sorry jess. i didn’t mean to ruin the date.”

jessie paused what she was doing for a split second, finished unpacking everything then grabbed my hands.

“yn, don’t ever be sorry for something like that. it happens, we get scared of things. it’s completely understandable and you shouldn’t have to be ashamed of yourself.”

her words were too sweet they almost brought me to tears.

“god i love you jess. so much.”

[bloodygyaruuu]

I've seen a few people ask other people about their shipping headcanons. What are yours for metadede?

i have been JUMPING to answer this question for like a month now so here are some pictures and explanations of my favorite idiots ever <3

(excuse the late reply, I promise I haven't been ignoring you. ik, very rude of me.)

my crazed reasoning here...

Alcohol Tolerance - I'm in full belief that Meta is the lightweight of the relationship. I mean, just look at him. That tiny frame can't handle the amount of modelo and beer he wishes it could (although he probably prefers sweet drinks in private). Dedede probably carries to his bedroom with some cold bottles of water, liquid iv, and a trash can prepped for the ever-imminent hangover awaiting them.

Love Languages - Out of the 5 love languages, I feel acts of service best coincides with Meta's personality, considering it's literally his job and how he is far more of an "actions over words" individual. Dedede best suits words of affirmation imo since someone with such heavy leader qualities most certainly knows how to captivate a crowd with his words which would seep into his love life. However... Dedede's eagerness to shower his partner in compliments and sweet nothings is betrayed by Meta's unbearable embarrassment and shyness when it comes to being treated tenderly. It's not to say Meta wouldn't enjoy being tended to, he'd just rather jump off a bridge than allow himself to be emotionally vulnerable, even with his partner.

Introversion vs. Extroversion - I think everyone with eyes and a working brain can agree that Dedede is extroverted while Meta is introverted. However, I feel these parts of their personalities would really shine when speaking to each other in a private, intimate setting. Dedede most likely leads the majority of the conversations between the two while Meta sits and listens deeply. Not to say the knight doesn't have his little quip or comment every now and then, but would prefer to stay silent and listen to his partner speak about trivial things. (although meta would have his moments of rambling on and on when dedede entertains one of his interests. ((autism maybe)).

Banter - I don't have a super in-depth reasoning for this one, but Dedede would def asks Meta random questions to make sure he's paying attention to what the pair are doing. In relation to the image, Dedede is asking him to help pick out which robe to wear. While Meta doesn't care that much about fashion, he's more than willing to participate because of how much love he has for his partner.

Taste Preference - I said in headcanon 1 that I believe Meta would prefer sugary, alcoholic drinks over anything else. I'm holding that truth towards caffeinated and soft drinks too. If he were to order coffee from a chain establishment, it'd probably be the color white due to the amount of cream, sugar, and flavor pumps in it. On the contrary, I feel Dedede would prefer teas and sodas. Maybe a nice chamomile to unwind and a soda to pair with the 50 pounds of red meat he likes to consume on the daily.

Arguments and Quarreling - They're each short-tempered and hot-headed in their own right, but the way they show their anger differs greatly. Dedede feels near-immediate anger that is amplified by his loud and bold nature. While he's more openly angry, this fury dies fast, considering his reasoning for the anger is often ridiculous, and he likes to outwardly dramatize his feelings (also getting these feelings out quickly helps him get over any irrational thoughts down the line). On the other side of the spectrum, Meta wouldn't yell out a string of slander when he was irritated although he'd try to logically prove why his view was the correct one. He'd bottle up his feelings deep inside him until they bubbled into a mess of resentment and grudges until he explodes with fury. Similarly to a star, he'd burn out quick- never exactly learning his lesson after this happens. The couple bicker frequently, but always make up the same day while over-apologizing for their respective faults.

Separated Thoughts - They'd probably HATEEE being away from each other for extended periods of time. If nobody stops them, the two just end up rambling on about the other until they run out of breath or everyone even partially listening makes their great escape. Dedede and Meta have their own work duties away from each other for often weeks at a time which puts a lot of strain on their yearning hearts. While they message and call near daily if one of the pair is on a work trip, they each miss the other's touch and kinda miss smooching to the point it distracts them from their responsibilities. (Galaxia would def tease Meta in regards to how much he thinks about the King in a romantic light.)

Body Temperatures - These two are extreme opposites in nearly everything they do and everything they are. Their body temperature is no exception. Everything about Meta is cold from his personality to his tiny hands, while Dedede holds in heat like a sweltering furnace. When the two cuddle together in the same bed, Meta melts into his partner's chest while the King tries oh so desperately not to throw the knight across the room when he's assaulted by freezing cold hands. When they hold hands, they create a perfect, affectionate temperature.

PLEASEEEEEE feel free to add on to my headcanon's here or even talk about your own hc's that I missed. I adore this kind of discussion. I couldn't get my 346 page list of hadcanon's and thought's into these characters in one post so perhaps I'll make a follow-up in the future, but I just love my near-middle aged man yaoi so much I just want to talk about it all day.

[everythingelseisextra]

Casual

Request: No Description: A panic attack sends you and Tommy into surprising vulnerability. Hurt/comfort with some fluff at the end. Warnings: Brief mention of self harm, panic attack, language Word Count: 1250 Author's Note: I'd like to make it clear that I don't believe having panic attacks makes you broken. That's Tommy's belief, not mine. Just saying. Tag List: @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul

Your blood is too thin for your veins. Your lungs are too weak for your heart. Your body is too big for this room. Your eyes are too blurry for you to see. And you gasp, folded into the corner of the bathroom, arms wrapped around yourself and mind chasing itself in circles. Every muscle in your body contracts, and you collapse in on yourself trying to breathe, trying to take one, just one, breath. Stars swirl and your vision goes dark at the edges and suddenly you think you’ll pass out. You sob. Wracking your chest, shaking your entire body, forcing you to clutch at your shirt, the toilet next to you, anything that might anchor you, give you something to hold on to. You’re deep, deep under the earth with the weight of the world pressing down on your chest, and you’re panting, pleading with whatever God will listen to let you breathe, let your panic subside.

The door to the bathroom opens and you let out a frenzied yelp, pushing yourself back, trying to hide yourself. You can’t be seen like this. Your limbs tingle with breathlessness and you can’t feel your feet or your legs or your fingers. Your legs curl up to your chest and you clutch at your knees, hiding your face on them.

Footsteps come towards you, and a shadow falls. You’re on the precipice of passing out, your head spinning, your body going numb, your vision inexplicably flashing from white to black and back to white again. You can’t be seen like this, can’t let anyone know you fall victim to these kinds of terrors, these irrational spells of panic. These attacks. 

The footsteps walk away again, and you uncurl from yourself, letting your legs lengthen on the ground, letting your arms fall to your sides, letting your body tremble fully. Tears run down your cheeks, and you feel pathetic, broken. You cry out as pain rushes through your chest, spiking into your heart, because your breath is gone and won’t come back. Because you’re hidden in a corner, unable to pull yourself out of this horrific monstrosity of an enemy. Because this is a nightmare you can’t wake up from, even when you scratch at your own skin, even when you pinch so hard you bleed. Still asleep, still stuck. You just have to ride it out, wait the thirty minutes, hour, two hours, until it fades away. 

The footsteps return, and along with it, a voice. “This is going to be very cold. I promise it’ll help.”

And then, before you register what was said, you’re drenched. Head to toe, drenched, and the water is freezing cold. You screech and scuttle back into your corner, and suddenly, there’s breath back in your lungs. You take a heaving breath, then another, then another, violently shivering. Freezing cold and deeply embarrassed, but breathing. You look up at the only person who could’ve done this, the only person with the balls to pour ice water on your head during a panic attack, the only person you wouldn’t murder for doing so.

“What the fuck was that?” You look up at Tommy, who stands in front of you, staring down with a furrowed brow and sharp eye.

“Worked in the tunnels. Shocks you, makes you breathe.” He crouches down, holding the empty metal bucket in front of him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” You know exactly what he’s asking, you just don’t want to explain it, don’t want to have to spell out your inner demons, even to him. 

“You should’ve told me.” His words grow slightly tense. “Should’ve fucking told me.”

“Why? Why should I have told you?” 

“Why do you think?” His voice reaches a new level of sarcastic, almost deliriously so. “Why do you think you should’ve told your husband that your mind plays tricks on you?”

You look down. “I’m sorry.”

“No. No, I don’t want ‘sorry.’” He shifts forward to kneel, sitting back on his feet. “I want you to tell me why.”

You duck your head, wrapping your sodden arms around yourself. “It’s stupid.”

“I don’t care. It’s you.”

You take another breath, still shocked that you can, that your lungs allow for expansion again. Shivering ripples through you. “I thought you wouldn’t want someone who was scared. I thought you would only want to be with someone who can face the world like you do. And… I can’t. That’s the truth of it. There are things that scare me that will always scare me, and I can try to help myself, but sometimes, I end up here.” You gesture to yourself.

He gives you a searching look, a hint of confusion in his eyes. “What happens to me every night, love?”

“...You have nightmares.” You look away.

“What happens when I have to go underground?” 

“You… You can do it, but you need help after.” 

“That’s right.” He reaches out and places a hand on your knee. He’s warm, and you close your eyes, wanting to soak in his touch, feel him all the way through you to save you from the chills. “I need help.”

“Yeah, but… that’s different. You fought in a war. I didn’t. I just am like this for no reason.” You look back at him. “Tommy, I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“I don’t have an answer.” His grip tightens on your leg and he drags you towards him, bringing you out of your corner, out of hiding. This coaxes a small smile from you, and you lean forward to rest your head on his shoulder, sighing, trying to stop your body from shivering. “There’s something broken about us both.”

You nod. Your throat closes, and your eyes squeeze shut. “I’m sorry.”

“Happens to me. Happens to Arthur. Happened to John. Fuck, happens to Polly these days, and she never fought. Shelby family curse. Maybe we should make it official.”

You pull away to look at him. “Did you just— did you just casually propose?”

He smiles, boyish. “Might’ve. Might not have.”

“Thomas Shelby, I can’t let you get away with that.” You lunge forward to hug him, knocking him down with your soaked and freezing body. His arms wrap around you and he rolls you so he lies on top of you, his legs between yours, body pressed against you, holding himself up on either side.

“Too casual.” His hair shadows his eyes, but you can see the glint in them, the spark you fell in love with. “I’ll try again. Since we’re both broken, and we know each other’s brokenness, will you agree to live with my brokenness for the rest of your life?”

You laugh, lifting yourself to kiss him. “Yes. That wasn’t much better, but yes. I’ll be your spouse.”

He sits up, a small grin spreading across his face. Your heart flutters. You haven’t seen him like this in months. 

“Need to tell Ada.” He stands and reaches down to help you up. “Been bothering about it for weeks.”

“It’s the middle of the night!” You shove him, pushing him against the bathroom wall and pinning him there with both arms on his chest. “You menace! Don’t go waking her up.”

Betraying all the trust you ever had in him, he reaches out and tickles you. You screech with laughter, pulling away from him and twisting to get away. 

“You’re worth waking up for.” He starts for the door. “Let’s make our announcement.”

[hesmystarlet]

𝐃𝐨 𝐈 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫?

Summary:

Bruce Wayne has been spending a significant amount of time with a feline foe and former lover of his. Clark Kent, feeling the absence of his partner attempts to make himself what he believes Bruce is craving. A dark, feline esque lover, instead of his usual sunshine self.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

A/N: I tried my best to stick to character but I haven’t written any sort of fic since like 2022 so please bear with me. I truly hope you enjoy! Also note that the spacings might be off slightly because I did type this all out on my notes app # trooper

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Any irrational Tuesday could pass by and Clark would still freak out, especially if he made it to the manor to see Bruce and he wasn’t yet back from patrol, even though his usual patrolling hours were well over. Maybe he’d just gotten the clock wrong, maybe he entered the wrong side of the manor. He knew neither of these were true yet he couldn’t help but wish they were. He couldn’t just barge into Alfred’s room to figure out where Bruce was and why he wasn’t back yet, and he had no intentions to break Bruce’s trust but sneaking into the batcave to find out. He sat around, waiting for his return for another forty minutes before grabbing a pen and paper from his office and writing a note on it. “Missed you tonight, I’ve got work in the morning so I couldn’t stay. Love C.” That should suffice, he’d see Bruce the next day. Eventually, hopefully.

The next day came and he hadn’t slept a wink. He had a feeling Bruce might not have felt bothered to read his note. He knew he shouldn’t think like that, he was thinking of his boyfriend after all, but he couldn’t shake the feeling Bruce had bigger fish to fry, and that he wasn’t even on the menu. When he walked into the Daily Planet he felt something grim hanging in the air, Lois must’ve noticed it cause she was walking towards him but turned around and came back with a macaroon in her hand as well as a Manila folder. “Wish I could tell you to cheer up but this article they want you to write is going to make you rather upset, so please don’t use your laser vision on me, I’m just the messenger.” She joked a little, hoping Clark wouldn’t be too mad at the folder she gave him, it was filled with photos of Batman and Cat Woman. “The Gotham Press read some of your work about Superman and was hoping you could write something up about these two meandering together after Batman’s typical hours,” she took a deep breath placing her hand on Clark’s shoulder and taking another macaroon out of her pocket and setting it on his desk before whisking away to a meeting.

He opened his desk drawer, it was a drawer reminiscent of one from a filing cabinet, and saw a bright red envelope sealed with blue wax and the Wayne family emblem. He recognized the handwriting the moment he saw it, the envelope said his name in the most fine script in Gotham. He wasn’t sure whether his face heated up from embarrassment or annoyance, but he opened up the letter anyway. “Clark, I apologize for not making it in before you left last night. I had some business to attend with Ms Kyle last night, I hope you can forgive me. I’d be delighted to have your presence grace me at that little hole in the wall diner you love so deeply, I’ll be there regardless waiting for you. Sanguinely, I shall see you for lunch. Keep that illustrious chin of yours up darling. Yours always, B”

Clark couldn’t help but break a smile and tuck the envelope into the inner pocket of his oversized work suit. Bruce had tried to get him to allow him to purchase him something a little more grand than what he owned, or at least a little more fitted, but Clark denied saying it wasn’t necessary no matter how hard Bruce tried to get him to budge. The moment he started writing he felt sick to his stomach, he looked over the header he’d written feeling himself get queasy so he ate one of the macaroons Lois had given him. The headline read “The Bat and the Cat, are we seeing the return of this perfect coupling of an alliance?” It was the only time in history he’d wished that he wasn’t noticed as a journalist, but at least he was making a few extra penny’s at the expense of his own agony. Why couldn’t they get some journalist in Gotham to write it, why’d they have to pick him. Writing about a public sighting of his boyfriend and said boyfriend’s ex in their vigilante getups felt like some sick joke.

By the time lunch came around he’d finished the article, he was one green eyed monster as he made his way to the diner. He saw Bruce through the window before he walked in, stopping to fix his hair then beginning to feel like a fool as he shoves his phone into his pocket, hastily walking through the restaurant and sitting across from Bruce. “Mr Sunshine, it’s kind of you to join me.” Bruce studies Clark’s nervous hands, fidgeting and picking at his nails above the table. He’s hesitant as he reaches out and grabs Clark’s hands, a look of reluctance in his face. It wasn’t a surprise to find reluctance or hesitancy in his eyes every time he showed affection, he tried a little every day to show some sort of affection, even if he felt as though he was coded to be opposed to it. Bruce was no stranger to detecting emotion, it didn’t mean he understood why Clark was so uneasy, and the man had no intention of letting him know. He just had a plan. A plan that caused him to send a message to Diana asking her to cover Metropolis for one night so he could take care of some business. “I know I’m no sponge of emotion and no saint to understanding, but if you need a shoulder I’m always here for you. What’s that thing you tell me, some midwestern sweetheart thing about only being able to hold what you know.” Bruce was so utterly off about the saying that it made Clark crack a smile, his teeth shining in the dim lighting of the diner. It was exactly what Bruce was hoping to see. The beautiful apparatus of the man sitting across from him. Besides his many heathen children, the best thing Batman had ever given him was Clark Kent. Though he had a tendency to struggle expressing his emotions to more than just him and the angry persona of Batman that he carried within, he loved his partner deeply. It occasionally became a problem when he got a tad too handsy after not seeing him for an extended period of time due to missions and Wayne Enterprises taking their time together away from each other. But typically Bruce kept himself in check. Like he was right now, even though he had a burning urge to kiss the man before him and hold him till he told him what was wrong. This was an apology lunch, it wasn’t the appropriate time to do what he wished he was doing. This was an apology for fraternizing with Selina Kyle instead of spending time with him, that’s why he ordered his food before he arrived. An American cheeseburger and a slice of apple pie to remind him of home. Martha Clark made the best apple pies, maybe it was that midwestern farmer love.

Clark ate in silence, stealing glances at Bruce wondering how a man like that could love him. A man with so much depth could love someone like him, someone who many considered shallow and ignorant. Several also tagged him with the gold digger title. Bruce stood to pay the check, walking back over to Clark with a pang of guilt in his eyes. He’d been spending a decent amount of time with Selina, but a part of him couldn’t help himself. When Clark finished he gave him a hand to help him out the booth, even though it wasn’t necessary. Bruce pulled him into a sweet kiss tasting the whipped cream and pie on his tongue. Clark craved more but he knew he needed to get back to work or someone, most likely Lois Lane his cherished best friend, would have his head. Clark denied Bruce’s offer for a ride, stating that if he was going to spend the weekend in Gotham he wanted to soak up some sunshine while still possible. Bruce excepts the excuse and gives him a peck on the forehead, sliding into his car but waiting as he watched Clark walk towards the Daily Planet.

The moment Clark tripped into that building he went over his article a minimum of seven times before submitting it for review. He told Lois he had some personal business to handle and that he’d work overtime next week to make up for any shortcomings before he bounded out of the building with a plan. He found himself sulking around the more lavish part of Metropolis, standing out like a sore thumb. He walked into a men’s lingerie shop, silently swearing he’d pay Bruce back. He’d been given a card, Bruce encouraged he used it but he never did. He felt his heart beating in his stomach and ears, this wasn’t something he ever planned to do. Yet here he was, trying on black bodysuit style lingerie in hopes that Bruce would find whatever he was missing in that outfit. He tossed a catlike masquerade mask into the purchase and paid for it without much of a word. He felt odd to be perceived, it felt wrong for people to be able to see him shopping for such an intimate thing. He shook his shoulders and headed to his place, waiting for midnight to hit so he could fly over to Gotham without worry of being caught. The back door was unlocked, he’d asked Alfred to leave it as such so he could enter more humanly than normal. He walked through the manor, taking in the state of everything, it was such an ostentatious display of a home. He couldn’t help but wonder how many times Bruce made love in a specific spot to Selina each time he passed any remotely flat space. Selina behaved like an exhabitionist in the workspace, so it would make sense for the two to have had fantasy inspired adventures on different surfaces of the house.

There was this pang in his heart, what if he could never make up what he lacked, whatever Selina had that he didn’t. He wished for nothing more than to have everything Bruce desired, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t enough. As it grew closer to two he finally made his way to Bruce’s room, he undressed in the connected bathroom. Bruce arrived home an hour earlier than normal, he must’ve gotten one of his older kids to finish patrol for him. It was a Friday night, there was no way crime was dead in Gotham at only three in the morning. He heard Bruce stripping off the suit belonging to the dark knight down in the batcave, slowly ascending towards his room. Clark quickly finished decorating himself in his gloomy attire, gloomy compared to how he normally dressed.

When Bruce sat on his bed in his boxers and his robe Clark exited the bathroom, trying to have this faux confidence about himself. He had the entire lace black bodysuit on, he didn’t look nor feel like himself. The feline like mask adorned his face and Bruce heard his footsteps, his heart picking up its pace a bit till he turned to see someone foreign to the man he loved. While he was aware how utterly handsome Clark looked, as much as he’d love to love him in this dressing, this was a show. And he was picking up the same off feeling from their lunch. His eyes raked over his partners distinguished muscles and dashing eyes, his wonderful build and breath taking lips. He stood up, reaching to grab that mask off Clark’s face but Clark dodged him. “Darling, let me play the role of who you wish I was. Just for the night.” Bruce was shellshocked, he pulled the hurt man before him back towards him. He’d hurt him, and it didn’t take more than another quick scan over Clark’s outfit to see why.

“Sunshine, Clark, you’re exactly who I want you to be. I frequently end up overwhelmed by how much I, Clark I often end up overwhelmed by how much I love you. No I won’t repeat that, not till later.” He reached around to Clark’s back, carefully untying the bodysuit style lingerie with one hand, the other hand moving to slide the mask off Clark’s face, crushing it in his hands before tossing it well out of his way. “You don’t need to be Selina, there’s a reason I’m not together with her anymore. There was no trust, she did not trust me. I lost the minuscule amount of trust I had for her. Now you’re making me talk an awful lot, come here.” He carelessly tore the lingerie off of Clark, he hated how the darkness of it captured his light. Even though that could be contributed to himself, he’d spent a decent amount of time with Gothams greatest thief. There was a reason behind it, he didn’t even look at himself in the mirror without a reason. The moment Clark was left standing bare, in nothing but his boxers, Bruce pulled him into bed, wrapping his arms around his lover and stroking his hair. Every so often he’d plant kisses on his forehead, keeping him in reality as he felt him silently cry. Bruce wasn’t a man of many words, and he’d used almost every word he’d had that night, but he had enough in him to say another sentence. “Never change yourself, I’ll be right here…” He didn’t frequent this word, but he knew more than anything his man of steel wasn’t completely steel, he was a sweet farm boy with a heart of honey. “I’ll be right here cause I love you.”

Those were never his words of choice, but he knew they were Clark’s. And as much as he was reluctant to say them, for every time Bruce said them something tragic seemed to happen, he could face the tragedy if it meant that the man he loved was a slight more comfortable in his arms.

As for Selina, Bruce would just have to text her about the best rings in Gotham instead of meeting up with her in person. And he’d just have to pray that Clark never needed to open his phone, not until he had the chance to ask his mother for permission to propose to her son. Bruce found himself grossly optimistic, Clark typically left that effect on his usual grouch, he found himself oddly optimistic that they had all the time in the world to waste.

As Clark fell asleep against him, Bruce found himself almost amused that this man had earned the title “Man of Steel” when anyone who knew him was more than aware he was made of the most delicate, sculpted porcelain the earth had ever seen.

[campbyler]

hi! member of privtwt here! i know it’s been a few months (god knows how long) after the whole Thing some of my mutuals had with you but i couldn’t stop thinking about it. i am frankly very embarrassed. i wasn’t involved in the Publicly Replying and Chasing You With Pitchforks stuff i just observed but not from afar. even then then, that was really really shitty and i’m truly very sorry for causing you any form of distress that you have felt. hope you guys are feeling a lot better thank you did in that time period. have a great day ! :)

shit forgot to put this in - most of us, including the people who weren’t involved, were offended because these were just assumptions that we, well, assumed didn’t interfere with the storyline. wallahi i thought it was just lighthearted banter until my mutuals were expressing their annoyance and the apologies came in (ours was very minimal, which was undeserved, sorry) not saying all this as an excuse btw! because after all this is *your* fictional world that you have intricately built and carefully detailed, and it was shitty of us to be annoyed at you turning down headcanons that like. go against the laws of YOUR world. especially since, if i recall correctly, they were *asking* you about their headcanons and left space for *your* opinions, in which you politely supplied. we treated it as a rhetorical question and expected validation which was very wrong. i hope any form of discouragement we unknowingly threw at your way has been gone. i mean it’s been months it probably has but i just thought i’d properly apologize because it was really irrational and frankly idiotic. i really love your fics! i’ve been closely following them a bit before acswy and i genuinely get so happy when i get an email about a fic update or a snippet etc. once again, i am sincerely sorry for all this bullshit. please keep writing 💙💛aaaand i forgot to add that the dogpiling you faced was deeply shitty and very undeserved i am truly truly sorry i exposed you to all that.

i posted this too early so everyone ignore this for now lol. it is being answered in a reblog.

[i-heart-hxh]

i want to thank you for talking about the doomery takes about Gon and Killua's separation with the level of patience & respect you do. i think people sometimes believe they parted on worse terms than they really did and it leads to people asking questions like "why would Killua say that to him?" or "why didn't Gon give a 'proper' apology?" with a preconception that the situation is irreparable. theyre intelligent kids who love each other a lot, so these things can feel really mean or insensitive to us because we see it as such a high stakes situation when in actuality, the characters kind of know what's happening already and can intuit each others feelings or intentions to a reasonable degree.

like, ex: Killua calls Gon stuff like an embarrassing moron frequently and Gon sees its because he's emotionally constipated and not because Killua actually thinks he's stupid. conversely, Killua knows that what Gon said to him in the palace came from an irrational place of lashing out at the only safe person in the room, and the reason why he can make fun of Gon later for it is because its clear he regrets it. they understand each other quite a bit and though the separation makes them really sad, i'm sure they both get, on some level, why it has to be like this for a bit

Thank you very much for the sweet message!

I honestly get exhausted by how many doom and gloom takes exist about HxH in general, and especially around Gon and Killua's relationship. I hope that by talking about my own perceptions of the series after spending all these years thinking about it and pulling it apart, more people can come to the side of having hope about it and being excited about what's ahead for them.

What they went through was immensely painful, and it certainly hurt those of us who love their relationship, too, but there are far more reasons to believe they have a path of healing and reconciliation ahead of them than all the angsty alternatives. They may have more to go through first before they reach that point, but in my opinion it would contradict the themes of the series for them not to have a second chance to rebuild their relationship even better.

That's a good bit of insight about them and how their interactions are much more than just what they're literally saying! I totally agree that they're quite perceptive about each other and aware of at least some of each others' feelings below the surface. There are actually several scenes where they explain things about the other with a surprising amount of insight--for instance, when Killua is talking to Wing about Gon's tendencies after the Gido match, or Gon knowing Killua will reluctantly fold to him if he insists on something when talking to Meleoron. Their relationship is complex and they both have areas where they need to improve with regards to communicating and understanding each other (especially how they see themselves and the way that warps how they see each others' feelings), but they deeply love each other and I'm sure they're going to want to make the changes needed to fix things between them and not have something like Chimera Ant Arc happen again.

The separation has a lot of layers, but it portrays them both as sad to split up even though it's what's needed for now, still hurting about what they went through but grateful for each other nonetheless, comfortable enough with each other still for Killua to tease Gon and Gon to openly mope about it, and they make it clear this isn't forever. Even with the various subtextual things going on (like Gon's use of "nakama" after Killua had a crisis about that very word and Killua saying Gon is now number 2, for instance) don't erase the overall tone of the separation. It's bittersweet and hard for them both, but not on bad terms!

HxH is a story about human connection and second chances and how love transforms people. The two characters at the center of the story epitomize these themes, so having a cynical view of their bond and future feels like having a cynical view of what the series as a whole is saying. There's nothing wrong with exploring or thinking about angsty themes, of course, and I truly love how much darkness, sadness, and trauma HxH explores throughout, but I don't believe the ultimate trajectory of the series is one of hopelessness or cynicism.

I hope those who are concerned about their future can zoom out and look at the series as a whole and see how many reasons there are to be hopeful for them.

[all-pacas]

random house ask (slash musings)…

i’ve been reading your chase and thirteen metas, and it struck me… there’s another character in the show who’s referred to by house as the “prodigal son” - amber. (s04eo3)

house says it as a joke, obviously, but thematically seems like it’s either totally irrelevant or the key to the whole show and i can’t for the life of me figure out which, or what (if anything) it means. just wondered if you had any thoughts, given the show’s general wealth of symbolism around amber and that line specifically being deeply tied to chase (and arguably thirteen).

I saw this just before I went to bed last night and my guy, I've been thinking.

So, what's immediately interesting to me is this:

13 calls herself the prodigal daughter. She's the only one comfortable enough to define her and House's relationship like that: she's the most comfortable with him, neither trying to impress him or become him. 13 and House aren't actually that alike in a couple of crucial ways: she's independent to a fault, cutting her phone lines and making huge life changes, and House needs to be around others as much as he hates them. For all that 13's mysteriousness is a self-imposed meme, she's actually very single-minded in a lot of ways: she decides something and she acts. And in that way she is like House, in that she acts according to her beliefs and doesn't like to involve others or change her mind. She cuts her phone lines and goes to jail. She quits medicine and moves to Greece. She asks Chase to bring her an ultrasound, then punches him when he tells her they need the hospital, even though he is right. And that stubbornness is very House, but that independence isn't. House in his own way is very social: he needs people to react to, to bounce off of, to antagonize. He doesn't do well alone, he doesn't like to be alone. He hates people but he thrives when he's around others. He doesn't make decisions in a vacuum like 13 does, he isn't really capable of making the huge life up-ending changes she does once per season. And they're both stubborn and single-minded and sarcastic and get along great, but it's interesting that 13 is the one who calls herself the prodigal daughter: not that she's wrong. But she decides. She leaves on her own, exists on her own. She is comfortable defining her and House's relationship.

House calls Chase the prodigal son, and it's a joke, but it's also not. Chase in early seasons is defined by wanting to be like House and failing, being a bit pathetic and silly and ridiculous for the ways he emulates House despite being insincere (House is deeply sincere — not the same thing as being pleasant or kind — Chase is an actor), despite Chase being presented as a bit dim. Foreman is like House without trying; Chase has to try, isn't that slightly embarrassing? It's only later that Chase is shown to be just as brilliant as House when he wants to be, not just solving cases but cases House can't. It's only over time that Chase becomes more House-like, and they're still less similar as people and more similar in terms of their lives: Cameron is basically Stacy. Chase becomes more cynical and isolated and lonely over time, staying static and unchanging as everyone around him moves on. He might have wanted to be House once, but by S8 he feels stuck and lonely and that House is all he really has, something he accuses House of enabling. He's also the one House tells not to be like him: House sees these parallels and tells Chase he wants better for him. Don't be like me. Don't be stupid and irrational and angry, don't react just because you're scared. Calling him the prodigal son was a joke, the hug was a joke, but Nobody's Fault/Chase were not jokes: Chase is like him, and House wants better for him. Chase has always wanted validation from House, wanted House to say I care for you or I'm proud of you (House wanting his father to say you did the right thing, Chase doing the right thing in Finding Judas and getting nothing); House instead tells him don't be like me.

13 isn't all that much like House and is comfortable with it and their relationship. Chase is forever insecure in his and House's relationship and is told to not be more like House than he is. They're House's favorites, but the dynamics are very different. Chase would never call himself House's son, because that's too big and huge: 13 is fine joking she's House's daughter because she's secure in who she is.

So here's where Amber comes in: she's the one House thinks is just like him. They're quickly made to be social equals (as Amber points out), and fall into a series of power plays and games that are very equal: they're fighting for Wilson. House doesn't treat her as a subordinate or a follower; he engages on her outside of work, at her home, in social spaces. This isn't something House does with his fellows, especially not in S4. And part of that is her relationship with Wilson kind of elevates her, right? He can't treat Amber as an employee. But House calls her a female version of him (conniving, manipulative, defensive, intelligent, not very likeable). House doesn't seem to like Amber much, but he respects her. She's the one he hallucinates and who becomes his sort of… well, literally his subconscious. Where you can make a case House sort of sees 13 and Chase as his surrogate kids (they're definitely his favorites), he definitely doesn't think of Amber as one of them. They're equals. She's just like him. And House doesn't like her.

13 isn't much like House, Chase is but shouldn't be; Amber is House, and where the first two are his favorites, he of course doesn't like Amber at all. And so of course she's, in a weird way, the most important of the three to him.

[kellycataclysm]

🍬🔪🦴🎨 for the ask template! 🖤🖤

Hello my dear! Thank you for these asks! They really got me thinking!

Post an unpopular opinion about a popular character - Okay so, I am deeply sorry for this and I really hope people don’t hate me for it because I know it is so silly… but… I developed a completely irrational dislike of Leah. I know where it came from and I’m an idiot. I read a fic where Leah was paired with the lovely doctor, and oh boy, did it have some delicious smut. However. I had a thought. My brain said ‘But wait… he’s for all the farmers…’ I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I can barely read her now without finding her ever so slightly irritating! It is so silly and I feel awful!

What’s the weirdest topic you’ve researched for a writing project? - So we know a lot of my content is spicy. I have done some interesting research! This is so embarrassing BUT… well, there was one time a couple of friends and I did an internet deep dive into what an orgasm feels like for a person with a penis… so there’s that… MOVING ON… Another time, and this isn’t exactly weird, I spent an inordinate amount of time researching how to give hand massages for literally one paragraph in my fic Ask Me Anything. Bonus content - I once wrote a scene where my oc and Harvey get frisky on the rug in front of the fire. Still think about the rug to be honest. I’m surprised I didn’t start researching how to get certain stains out of fabric and upholstery… There’s still time, I guess.

Is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? - It’s hard for me to pick just one! There are many fic writers that are an inspiration to me. I am also inspired by many artists and their interpretations of these characters. In The Real World, I also read a lot, watch a lot of TV, watch a ridiculous amount of movies. So maybe I could perhaps say visual storytelling. Much of my writing is quite descriptive in terms of environment and atmosphere. I try to almost paint the scene with words; visualise it and then find language that pulls you into moment, so you can almost feel it. I hope I’m able to do that. 

Link your favourite piece of fan art and explain why you like it. - omg this is so hard because I have a lot of stunning pieces of art that I’ve commissioned over the last year of writing my oc and Harvey and I really love all of them so much! So, instead of choosing a piece of art that I've commissioned, I'm going to share this piece by the really lovely @shreddies-scribbles, which I am completely and utterly obsessed with. Harvey, asleep at dawn. The farmer is about to leave, but upon seeing this sight, do they go? I love this art SO MUCH that I even wrote a moment in my long fic inspired by it. I feel like it shows Harvey in his happily ever after, settled with his love, no longer just the bachelor. He belongs to someone, they belong to him, and I just know he sleeps so peacefully at night with them by his side. I adore this art and will yap about it for ever.

Thank you so much for these wonderful asks! <3333

[frogsmulder]

When the Ice Melts

Chapter 2/4, prev chapter

What if all the sexual tension in that Ice scene was for a reason? Mulder and Scully hook up before Mulder is locked up in storage, and she comes to believe that he was infected; 1.5k words; rated e; tagging @today-in-fic

Read on AO3

Scully slowly comes to with the sense that something is different–out of place. Rubbing her eyes, she eventually sits up on one elbow. Mulder is nowhere to be seen. She hesitates, clinging closely to the warm comforter but a cold dread slicks down her spine, settling uneasily in her stomach.

"Mulder?" She calls out in a raspy voice. His name sounds so different now, irrational though it may be; the ghost of it tangled in her whimpers and moans makes her blush to even whisper it like it's simultaneously sacred and profane. The heat of arousal and embarrassment rise through her body from her core, reminding her of the wanton ache that resides there. She snakes her hand down her body to cup the feeling. Eyes closed, she bites her lip, aware that there is no returning from this. She allows herself a moment to grieve the future that could have been as a smile overcomes her with the urge to find Mulder.

Her discarded clothes were still at the bottom of the bed and she hastily throws them on. Making her way over to the door, she slowly turns the handle, trying to be as quiet as possible. The hallway is dark save for the dim red glow of the emergency lights. It stains the walls with an eerie wash of foreboding.

Suddenly a loud crash comes from down the hall. A little afraid, she begins to run down the corridor, hearing other doors open behind her and following footsteps. When she finds the light switch for the lab, she is overcome with a nausea she has never known. Fear and dread and anger and confusion and disbelief, but mostly hope. Some faith worth clinging to that there was an alternative explanation to the scene that lay before her than that that immediately came to mind. Mulder was kneeling over Murphy's limp body, stained with his blood. Her thoughts started to spiral but she pushed it aside. Yet the panic creeps in in the rise of her tone, the break of his name in her throat. "Mulder, what are you doing?"

"Murphy's dead," he states coolly, looking up from him to her. She glances down at the body: Murphy's throat cruelly slit.

"You killed him," Hodge says from behind her.

"I found him like this." Mulder's voice cracks with the emphasis–from either shock or anger, she cannot tell. He stands to his feet, defensively, "I heard one of the doors close. I came to check it out… it's one of you."

The notion is a sharp blade to her stomach. That he was so adamant just hours ago that she wasn't infected; to turn her trust for him against her so quickly insulted her deeply. Did he think it was her? She was still praying it wasn't him.

"He's lying," Hodge quickly says.

Da Silva adds, "You could have done it and not even known–"

"No." Ranks were drawing faster than she could breathe. She was still clinging to faith like a life ring in a brewing storm. "He said he didn't."

Mulder locks eyes with her; a plea for understanding but his gaze is hot and uncomfortable. "I don't have any symptoms."

Scully knows this, having seen and felt the smoothness of his skin. His kindness and compassion and effortlessly calm demeanour had reassured her. She had trusted him with her life and more. It couldn't be him–it had to not be him–but she couldn't whisper a word of it. So, she turns to Hodge, "You checked him."

"Yeah, six hours ago–"

"It was one of you!" Mulder strides forward and she moves to put herself between him and the others, but she doesn't know who she should be protecting from whom.

"Stop it!" Her resolve starts to crack and she finds that she can't look at him. "Stop it! Shut up!"

The floor provides a quiet neutrality to compose herself and forget the anger she can feel coiled inside of him. And yet she feels cowardly, hiding from her own feelings in all of this.

"Mulder…" She lifts her head to look at him. There's sweat on his brow and fire in his eyes, and his jaw is tense with a quiet rage she's never seen before. "Just put. The. Gun. Down and let Hodge give you a blood test."

"Oh, so he can doctor the results?" he spits. "I'm not gonna let him stick a needle in me, he could be infected!"

"He has to be confined now!"

Scully ignores Hodge's interjection. "Then just turn around and let us take a look at your neck."

He raises his arm, and with it, his gun, scanning it threateningly between all of them. "I'm not turning my back on anyone!" He continues to back away slowly. "As far as I'm concerned you're all infected!"

"Hodge is right, we ought to lock him up!"

From the corner Hodge turns with a pipe in his hand; Mulder swings his gun to aim at him, but it's Scully's hope he shoots a hole through.

She whips up her gun instinctively whilst her heart tells her to lower it. This is Mulder: she never once dreamt she would have to hold a gun up to her partner. But the bullet of betrayal sears her soul and she can still feel the burning. The only thing she has left of herself is to plead, "Mulder…"

"Scully! Get that gun off me!"

She turns cold. Ice runs through her arteries and she finds herself staring down the barrel of his gun, hoping this is nothing more than a nightmare; that she's still safe wrapped up in his bed. The stinging cold smell of metal mixed with sweat tells her this is all too real. She tightens her grip on the trigger despite her shaking hands. She is convicted with the truth of his infection. Flashes of his body beneath her, above her, around her, moving within her cloud her vision. What has she done? Truly isolated and alone at the edge of the world, without the one person she needs–wants the most. "Mulder! You have to understand…"

"Put it down!"

Tears burn like acid behind her eyes. "You put it down first!"

"Scully!" He screams her name, shattering her heart. Then his voice breaks and softens something akin to pain. "For God's sakes, it's me."

She shakes her head, hesitating, out of options. "Mulder, you may not be who you are."

He lowers the gun, seeing the fear in her eyes. Short-lived relief overcomes her. She swallows, knowing and not liking what they will have to do next.

.....

“In here, I will be safer than you.” His words chill her as much as his cold stare as she slides the door shut and locks the bolt in place. Holding onto the handle, guilt and regret pick their way through her gut; she can still see his betrayed face disappearing from out of sight. Hodge and Da Silva walk easily away but Scully’s body is caught paralysed like a sack of bricks on a river bed where it’s difficult to breathe. Behind the hulk of red metal Mulder–or some version of him–sits alone, lost while so close. She wonders if she'll ever reach him again, the real him, the one that cracks jokes and sunflower seeds, and offers her comfort. Lowering her head, Scully picks her feet up and turns around, heading back to bed.

The last several hours turn around in her mind, slowly burning as she holds them too close under the flame of inspection. In his bed, she folds the edge of the blanket around herself, shutting out her own thoughts. Scully buries her nose into the soft material and sighs heavily. It smells of them still, but his bed feels empty as the last traces of him evaporate with every inhale. Curiously she wonders why her room was never even an option. His things scattered about the floor, spilling from the overnight bag by the foot of the bed are more familiar than her own, neatly tucked away in a separate room. How quickly in the last few months he has wormed his way into her life, inside her head, inside her heart. She can’t shake him – she doesn’t want to – and yet she fears that may be the exact conclusion to this trip that she will have to write in her report.

Turning over in the sheets, she pictures him in the storage locker selfishly hoping she preoccupies his thoughts as much as he does hers. She can see his face contorting in anger and screams so loud and brash in the dimness of the room. The memory haunts her as he holds her at gunpoint over and over – no escaping the nightmare. It sits with her cold and quiet yet relentless. How long had he been infected? Scully turns again. How long had she been asleep while he was gone? Or was it earlier? When she knocked on his door? Oh god what if that wasn’t him?

A tear slipped down her cheek and soaked the pillow below. Quickly she wipes her cheek and turns over again.

[sierrawr]

Summary: Your secretary, Soobin, failed for the first time in his task that you assigned to him. It sparks your rage, and he is shocked to learn that you knew his past history and relation with the infamous Korean-Italian mafia, Vincenzo Cassano.

TEASER | TEASER 2 | CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

Pairing: Attorney! Reader X Undercover Police! Jay Cameo: Secretary! Soobin Genre: Thriller, mystery, slow-burn, Kdrama spin-off Triggered Warning!: None Word Count: 1196 Words Inspired by: Kdrama "Why Her?" and "Siren" by Taeyeon Song Recommendations: "Adrenaline" by Aalia (Vincenzo OST)

You stared at the file that Soobin just handed to you a few moments ago before you let out a heavy sigh. You can’t deny the fact that Soobin, who is standing straight in front of your office desk, has always shown a great effort and excellent job when it comes to tracking and getting information of someone regardless of their social status and private life. However, you also can’t believe that for the first time in the history of 3 years since he has been working for you, he failed to complete the task that you gave him.

“I’m sorry, Serena 님. Please do punish me as your heart wishes. I have failed you this time after all.”

Soobin bowed to you as he admitted his failure to carry the task of searching the 2019 hit and run victim’s background.

“That’s bullshit Soobin. You have never failed a task and a mission from me or my father before. Are you sure you are still on our side? It’s been 10 years since you knew my family and you have worked for me for 3 years already. I wouldn’t be surprised if you turned out to be a backstabber. You better come clean right here and right now before I found something else that you might hide from me,”

You can't understand why it is so hard to obtain the information of the victim since her social status is not that impressive. This is because you have a vivid memory about what she wore on that night of the accident, which is a convenience store uniform. Based on your theory, considering the fact that she was 16 years old, you assumed that she was most likely a part-time worker of the convenience store where came from before the accident happened, according to your knowledge.

Soobin remains calm and stands very still as ever, but his sharp eyes can't hide the hurt that penetrates deep inside of him to the core. You noticed that very well, but you won’t take any risk of him being a betrayer to you and your family. There is nothing that you can do but to accuse and threaten him just a few seconds ago. And as if it’s not enough, you even questioned his status of loyalty towards you and your father.

“I know my place and understand your point of view regarding this matter, and you are disappointed that I failed to perform well in that task. Therefore, I am prepared to take your blame and did not hesitate to receive any punishment from you. However, when you are doubtful of my unconditional loyalty and undying support towards you, Chairman Yang, and the Young Group, I must say that I am deeply hurt and upset by your accusations and careless remarks.”

As if water is being splashed in your face, the realization of you going overboard with your accusations instantly came afterwards. It makes you look away from his eyes and cup your face out of embarrassment, and you are ashamed of yourself for being irrational and making an immature way of thinking just now.

“I’m sorry, Soobin, I- I don’t know what’s going on inside my mind, and I don't feel like myself at all ever since the news of the case reopening broke out.”

Your eyes almost teared up again, just like the moment when you saw the news had been covered everywhere and anywhere in the whole South Korea. With a stoic expression, you mustered up a little bit of courage to look at his eyes after what just happened.

“Also, I know I have said this before, but if there’s anyone that can downgrade you, that person can only be me. Not even my father can do that to you. Don’t you dare forget that even without the Choi’s connection with the Yang family, you too have so much power just like us, Consigliere Soobin.”

You smirk, seeing that his pupils dilated. Of course, it is surprising to Soobin that you knew about him being a consigliere of a Korean-Italian family, the Cassano especially their sole heir, Vincenzo Cassano who used to be his former boss, before he works for you and your family at the moment. You were trying to think of ways that can make your father, Chairman Yang, change his mind about assigning Soobin to work under you.

However, you found a shocking discovery about that fact of him. Thus, you stopped bothering your father about Soobin’s recruitment and agreed to take him as your secretary and right-hand man. That’s also why the Choi was desperate for the help from your family in order to conceals Soobin’s relation with the well-known mafia family considering the fact that your family has such influence and power over laws in the South Korea especially in the city of Seoul and Jeolla Province with 2 of its cities, Gwangju and Mokpo.

That’s why the Choi family and the Yang family go way back, be it in the matter of good days or bad days. Even so, the Choi did not state about that part of Soobin to any of your family members, including your father. That means only you know the secret that Soobin has been keeping all this time, and he had no idea that you knew about that until now.

“I do not just agree to have someone working for me for no reason, I must know every single damn thing about them first thing first. If you are that ordinary, you wouldn’t be here or survive from the first day you started working for me.”

Soobin nods his head, and you sense that he is acting a bit stiff and tense after you mentioned that you knew his secret. He is looking everywhere but you and let out an awkward cough to probably cover up the nerve-wrecking atmosphere to him at the very least.

“So my punishment is my secret being exposed to Chairman Yang isn’t it?”

He asked, finally looking at your face. You chuckled and twirled your office chair that you are seated on currently.

“No, why would I do that when it’s fun to mess around with you sometimes? I assure you that no one of my family members will ever know about this, I’ll give you my promise on that one. As for your punishment.. I will delay it first and let you know about that when I have decided what to do with you.”

You said as you picked up your YSL handbag. Soobin immediately fixes his blazer as part of his habit every time he sees you getting up from your office seat.

“Are you going somewhere? You don’t have any appointment for today, though.”

Your expression is unreadable to Soobin, and he feels uneasy knowing how you can act really impulsive and unpredictable sometimes.

“I’m meeting someone. I might have dinner as well. You don’t have to follow me because I will drive myself. Just make sure to try anything to get the victim’s background information. You must succeed no matter what. Use everything and anything that you have. Including your connection with Cassano.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Notes: Starting from chapter 3 onwards, it would be a background story for each character starting from Soobin. Each story contains a hidden hint or a clue to the incident. Try to find the clues from each background.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

© 2023; sierrawr on Tumblr.

[real-reulbbr-band]

There was no jellicle sun, but Victoria. She was his. For she filled his life with a light nothing in the air should ever dare to compete.

Platoria headcanons

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ When they were kittens, Plato used to have an irrational fear about losing Victoria in the snow so Victoria would always stay by his side as they were walking together. Over time Plato got over this fear, but he and Victoria still walk by each other with their tails intertwined during winter.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plato is training to be a protector, so sometimes Victoria calls him her knight.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plato never really considered himself a dancer, sure he would dance as all the jellicles do. But he only truly became passionate about it when he met Victoria, watching her dance only inspired him to further his own abilities.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Victoria didn’t pursue Plato at first, she dismissed her earlier feelings for him as a one-off crush that she’d get over in a week. To be fair to Victoria, that was the case with most of her crushes.

But Plato was different, she started unknowingly paying attention to the little things he’d do when they spent time together. Like how he’d lick his paw and brush it against his mane when he felt someone was staring at it for too long (he thought it meant his mane was knotted), or how his tail would go into a zig-zag shape whenever he got embarrassed. The more things she noticed, the more drawn to him she felt.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ For Plato, there was no initial doubt of his love for Victoria. When he fell he fell hard. He was sure he was in love with her, however, what held him back most was his hesitations about Victoria being too good for him.

So he longed for her from a distance for a long while, but the more he longed for her the more he wanted to make her his. He began courting her, eager to show her just how deeply he cared for her. Even if he felt his love wasn’t returned, he cared for Victoria and wanted to thank her for being his dearest friend.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Victoria dislikes being infantilized, while it isn’t a thing that universally happens to her; a few queens and toms did have their “treating her like a child” moments as she’d say. Plato was always her friend and was the first to see her for what she was in the present. A young queen and no kitten.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plato was the first to say “I love you” to Victoria, and when it happened he didn’t even realize he said it. They were both alone. About to say goodbye after the night at the ball, as Victoria moved her paw out of his grasp to leave he blurted it out in a whisper.

Vocalizing his internal thoughts unconsciously. They already knew that they loved each other; they'd just never said it before then. There was some small silence after that which Victoria broke with a kiss.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ While Victoria is well aware of Plato’s romantic gestures for her, she does enjoy playing coy when she can tell he’s nervous. Most of the time it’s to get Plato to finally coax out of his nerves. The teasing is never anything generally mean-spirited, Victoria just keeps asking Plato questions until he feels comfortable enough to spill. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Both Victoria and Plato speak ever so fondly of each other. To Victoria, Plato is all she had dreamed of embodied and with additional quirks that just make her admire him more. Which did lead to her gushing about him to her friends before and after they started dating.

As for Plato,  he feels eternally grateful for having Victoria in his life. While he doesn’t boast about Victoria too often to others, say maybe occasionally to George or Etcetera (which Cettie normally prompts) he’d rather show it to Victoria directly. Reminding her of just how much she means to him through his words is almost routine for the couple.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Victoria helps Plato see beauty in almost everything. Plato used to hate NewYear's, which isn’t particularly unusual among most of the jellicles. Only very few seem to enjoy the sight of fireworks, Victoria being one of them.

The first time she saw the fireworks she was standing at her humans’ window, the loud noises did scare her at first but before she could fall off the desk in fear the bright glittering lights in the sky caught her attention.

She was almost entranced by the sight, staring at it in awe. Victoria after discovering new years was an annual thing for humans, began to look forward to it deeply; she had a special spot in the junkyard where she’d watch them from.

Plato wanted to join her many times but couldn’t bring himself too, the fireworks only reminded him of his father’s magic and brought back some memories he struggled to move forward from.

One time, as Victoria was preparing to watch the fireworks again she caught sight of Plato watching her from a safe distance and inside a crate. She invited him to sit with her and they opened up to each other about their own feelings on fireworks.

Victoria sympathized with Plato but wanted to offer her own perspective on the “dancing stars” as she calls them. Victoria’s description, and the way her voice was full of such immeasurable joy it made Plato’s heart melt.

Before they both knew it the first firework set off in the sky. Initially, Plato's ears drooped and his eyes dilated, but then he felt Victoria's tail draping over him, shielding him from his inner turmoil. In that moment, Plato truly saw the beauty both in the sky and in his heart.

[nabaath-areng]

I've struggled so much with english these past few days and it's so annoying and embarrassing, and what's even more embarrassing is that I'm embarrassed at all in the first place!!! Everytime I make a rushed error with my unmedicated brain, or swap around with word order, or struggle to pronounce things or outright just fail to recall even basic words entirely I get so ashamed and stressed out.

And I hate being told things such as "you're better than some native speakers" because I know that isn't true! And I wish it could just be fine that I'm not! Sure, I've improved immensely ever since I actually tried to learn it properly 10 years ago, but it was such a bumpy and embarrassing road that it's practically a mercy for my self confidence that I was psychotic for a majority of the time, what with all the things I've forgotten or outright never memorized in the first place as a result lmao.

Everytime I have to edit captions and such after hitting 'Post' I always feel this overwhelming sense of dread that people will just pour in to nag and to correct me even over the smallest things, all without anything good to say. Which sucks, cause so many times where I've had people be condescending or outright degrading, the errors in question didn't even impede on the clarity of what I was saying. Just stupid, unimportant things like using 'has'/'have' wrong, using 'were' two times in a sentence, putting words in the wrong order in a sentence etc.

It's been years now since that was a thing that happened regularly, but that fear is apparently still so deeply imprinted that, even now, I can't read what I'm writing right here and now without this looming fear about how it will serve to make native speakers perceive me as stupid and unintelligent or outright infantilize me. Even though I know that's more than likely irrational of me to feel now. I seriously need to figure out how to overcome this mental roadblock, or at least not let it get to me like this. It's rarer these days, but I still feel it too strongly for my liking whenever my reservations do kick in.

[thedreadvampy]

anyway I am in, as they say, a Very Activated State, and I have been on and off for several days, and one of the things I most resent is that I repeatedly get in situations where this person who I did not invite into my life and do not want there gets me so angry and upset and stressed and guilty and chest-shaky and picking holes in my own sense of reality. For what???? For someone who I don't even particularly like? For a friend of a friend? Jesus fucking Christ. What a stupid thing to get upset about. What an embarrassing state to be in.

They've never even really done anything to me except be annoying and yet every time I have any kind of conflict with them it dominates my entire week and puts me in pre-therapy-survival-mode bodywise and it's so fucking irrational and it makes my position so much less defensible even though I know that, my own brain stuff aside, a lot of other people find the same stuff about their behaviour and influence aggravating.

and it makes me act shittier and I know this. it makes me obsessively catalogue my grievances and gripe endlessly bc I want to hear other people say 'yes I also find that deeply angering' but then THAT makes me feel WORSE because it feels like I'm just being a bitch rather than that I have any legitimate reasons to be angry.

it sucks. I want it gone. I do not like to feel that I am acting out of pure emotionality and I do not like to pretend I'm not when I clearly am. and I do not like to feel like my lungs are vibrating offtempo, also.

[quirkthieves]

pulling a lot of this from my dms with lys but what really pushed me to change up ibara's backstory was re-examining the way she talks to and about things

ibaras ocd just seems so deeply unmanaged/overlooked that i have to wonder if shes just been in an environment that encourages it yknow. like there is no self soothing happening here she is collapsing in public

she thinks its appropriate to tell people they need to be flogged like i feel like at some point this has to have been encouraged bc she doesnt seem to feel the shame of it being "socially abnormal" the way it feels with ocd when you know its kinda irrational and nobody thinks that way. in general honestly she communicates in a way that indicates she doesnt understand that nobody else understands the religious talk + jargon, even when theyre clearly taken aback by it. i cant imagine she called shishida "beast of revelations" out of any malice or even to be mischievious, i think to her thats just basically a synonym for him. while she clearly gets upset and embarrassed abt other things, it feels like her fundamental reality hinges on Everyone Being On The Same Page With Her when they very much are NOT

Ibara is obsessed with things being completely clear to the point of getting upset at mic for a funny one-liner i cant IMAGINE shes trying to be obtuse on purpose. but she even uses a personal pronoun thats so formal and archaic its not used by anyone except corporations/politicians making official apology statements theres also in LN2, at a girls slumber party at the training camp, a gag where mina brings up love and yaomomo is like "Love?! before marriage?!" and shiozaki agrees and says something abt marriage being a promise before god. which like is just meant to be a silly gag abt how sheltered yaomomo is but again that + the way ibara speaks + other things seem to indicate not even just a religious upbringing but an incredibly insular one. when the girls in that chapter are talking abt potential dates, ibara says she thinks someone needs to "pull the thorn from endeavors heart" and everyones like. YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON ENDEAVOR? GIRL? and shes like. what? no. i just think he needs help like mentally

& ibara never tries to proselytize in canon. she talks abt the lord vaguely, but she never mentions it in a way that insinuates she expects her classmates to convert, just that she holds them to the same moral standard she holds herself, and a general obliviousness to the fact they dont know what shes talking about to her it seems like god is just a literal physical reality untethered to personal affiliation in fact shes like. bizarrely un-denominational in her christianity she never references things outside of allusions to bible stories, the lord as a concept, or her moral ethos. and again, in all the christmas material we see of her she almost looks confused as to why shes there

which. sure in part probably has more to do with horikoshi but the way i interpret it is just that these "official cultural aspects" like the celebrations themselves / decorations / etc are completely divorced from "actual christmas" in her mind. she has no fucking clue why there are elves involved what the fuck does this have to do with jesus which again would point to an incredibly, incredibly insular upbringing. like, more than MLA insular shes completely alienated from the culture of her peers but doesnt understand why because she still hasnt felt any need to question her concept of culture or reality in general. so instead shes just baffled all the time. no wonder shes so high strung. AUGH