#me wearing my self-ish shirt when i saw this

[the-count-and-the-raven]

Will’s Words and the Shake pears

[herofics]

A day worth waiting for

A/N: I really felt like writing some angst with Gojo. Also, I’m feeling kinda shitty, so I needed something to cope with it. I’m not suicidal specifically, but it keeps kinda flashing in my mind as a “you could do that though” if that makes sense. I started writing this like 3 months ago, but I didn’t finish it then, so I’m writing it now

Warnings: Self-harm, blood and suicide attempt-ish

You were just laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. You had no clue how long you’d been laying there. It might have been minutes, or it might have been hours, you had no idea.

You didn’t feel anything, you were just numb, maybe not even numb, every emotion just felt the same. It was like all the colors were gone.

You stretched your hand towards the ceiling. You were wearing a t-shirt, so you could clearly see the scars that covered your wrist. There were no fresh ones, hadn’t been in a while, but the urge was still there, the urge to rip your skin open and let your life bleed out of you.

And why wouldn’t you? There wasn’t anything here for you. Gojo would be fine without you, he was the strongest, after all. He would probably even be better off.

“It’s decided then” you muttered while getting up from the floor.

You tried writing a note, and even though the idea of ending your life made so much sense in your head, you couldn’t figure out a way to explain it on paper. The only words you managed to put down were “Forgive me, Satoru. I hope you don’t curse me too much”. A few tears fell on the paper, smudging the ink.

You went to draw yourself a warm bath, before rummaging through the drawers under the sink to find a razor blade. You threw off your sweatpants and climbed into the tub in your underwear and a big t-shirt.

You exhaled deeply, before looking up at the ceiling. Were you really going to do this? Were you ready to leave yet?

That’s when you heard the bathroom door open. You quickly submerged the razor blade and hid it under your thigh before Gojo saw it. You managed to cut yourself in the process. How did you not hear him come into the apartment?

“Whatcha doing in the tub with your clothes on?” he smirked from the doorway, not yet putting the situation together.

He was just standing there, looking like his normal dashing self. He took off his blindfold, like he always did when he came home to you.

“I fell in” you lied.

Gojo took a step closer, chuckling, about to say something, when he noticed the blood in the water. The smile died on his lips as he realized what was going on. He knelt down next to the tub and grabbed both your hands, checking your wrists.

He sighed in relief as he realized you hadn’t done anything yet. Then where was the blood coming from?

You saw the panicked look in his eyes as he still held your hands in his while looking for the source of the blood.

“I nicked myself-myself when trying to hide the razor blade” you hiccuped, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Oh doll” Gojo said softly, before pulling you up with him as he stood up.

He took your shirt off you and grabbed a big, fluffy towel, wrapping it around you.

“I need you to talk to me, and I think you need that too” Gojo said as he stood in front of you.

There was something different about the way he looked at you. Anger you would have recognized, but this wasn’t it. Fear? Was it really fear you saw in his eyes?

“Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay? You look kind of scared” you noted.

“First of all, I think I should be asking you that. Secondly, I think my fear is pretty justified when I find the person I love sitting in a bathtub filled with water, ready to open their wrists”

“Well that sounds a bit gruesome” you muttered.

“Am I wrong?” Gojo asked, tilting his head to the side.

There was a moment of silence between you, before you spoke a simple, quiet: “No”

You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. Once you said it out loud, admitted what you were going to do, it was like a dam broke. You just started sobbing uncontrollably.

“It’s okay doll, it’s okay” Gojo assured as he picked you up and carried you out of the bathroom.

You were still wrapped in the towel and holding onto Gojo’s jacket for dear life. You didn’t even remember what had originally gotten you so upset that you would resort to what you had attempted to do.

Gojo had been through this with you before. The last time this happened, it was with you trying to overdose on your medication. It was one of the few times in his life he had been absolutely terrified. Seeing you laying there unconscious, with an empty pill bottle next to you, had been one of the most horrific moments of his entire life.

Now it was happening all over again, but this time he had been on time. This time he had gotten to you before you’d done anything stupid, this time he’d managed it. After Suguru left, Gojo had sworn he wouldn’t lose anyone else like that. He wouldn’t let anyone else disappear into the shadows again.

Gojo sat down on the bed, still holding you in his arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-so sorry” you kept blubbering while burying your face to his chest.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay” Gojo said, grabbing your hand and attempting to ground you through his touch. “Just breathe”

After your breathing and crying calmed down, you looked up at him with tearful eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened” you muttered, trying to get up from his lap.

“Nu-uh, you’re not going anywhere till we talk” he pulled you back.

“What am I even supposed to say?”

“Just something, I don’t want you to be alone with this. You know I won’t leave you alone before I get a satisfactory explanation” he half joked.

Gojo just wanted to hear you say that you’d be okay. He just wanted to hear you say this was just a fluke, and it wouldn’t happen again. At the same time, he knew you couldn’t promise that. That you wouldn’t just magically start getting better, because you or he wanted you to.

“I don’t know what happened. It just seemed like the right choice, but the second I saw you, I was like “What the fuck am I doing?” and it didn’t feel like it made any sense anymore”

You kept staring at your hands while leaning the side of your head against his chest. What you said was true. Seeing him had made you change your mind in the end. You could have tried to reach for the razor again, even though it would have been futile with him in the same room. He would have stopped you, no doubt about that, and besides you didn’t want him to see you do that to yourself. The act itself was way different from just seeing the aftermath.

“Well I’m glad I have that effect on you, but that doesn’t really give me much insight to your mental state right now”

“I guess it doesn’t, but I don’t really know what else to tell you” you sighed.

You just sat there in silence, Gojo embracing you and you leaning against his chest. You didn’t know what to tell him. Even if you managed to formulate something that would make sense to you, it would probably just sound crazy to him. It was so hard to put any of it into words, let alone in a way someone else would understand.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, but I just want you to know that no matter what you think, I’m not better off without you, and neither is anyone else you know” Gojo said suddenly.

“Thank you” you said after a while more of silence, looking up at him.

“What for?” he asked as he met your gaze.

“I guess I just appreciate the reminder at times like these”

“I’ll remind you for the rest of our lives, if you’ll let me” he smiled softly.

You placed a hand on the side of Gojo’s face and caressed his cheek with your thumb.

“I’d like that”

Maybe one day you’d love life as much as you loved him, maybe that day was worth waiting for.

[navstuffs]

The Lady in Red

Pairing: Ada Wong x GN!Reader

Summary: The Lady in Red asks you to dance. Based on the song "The Lady in Red" by Chris de Burgh.

Warnings tags: reader has low self-esteem, shy and nervous!reader (so self-indulgent, id tremble in front of this woman), angsty-ish, ada being ada

Author's Notes: IT IS ADA WONG DAY! to celebrate i decided to post this very special fic with her song on her day. enjoy!!

"The lady in red is dancing with me, (...) There's nobody here It's just you and me It's where I want to be But I hardly know this beauty by my side I'll never forget the way you look tonight"

(Chris de Burgh - The Lady in Red)

She enters through the doors at precisely 9:35 p.m. She might be able to enter unnoticed, but all eyes are on her as she takes off her coat, revealing a red dress today. You wonder why that color means so much to her, but you are (again) too nervous to even glance in her direction. You don't want to be considered a perverted, like all the other guys who tried to flirt with her.

She always wears red: either a social shirt, a dress, or a jacket, the Lady in Red makes justice to her nickname. The only other color you saw her wear was black, always with some sort of red in her outfit.

She sits alone by her usual stool, three down from yours, as the bartender places the regular tall glass of Martini in front of her. She has no company; Lady in Red is always alone when she appears. You always expect some sort of model boyfriend or girlfriend to appear and stop your curiosity or any chance you could consider having, but Lady in Red is always alone. Not in the sense of loneliness (like you), but alone by choice. You watched her as weeks passed, man after man denied a dance, a phone number, and even a "hello." You don't think badly of her, obviously not, some men could be real jerks.

You sigh, turning your attention to the drink in front of you. There is a loud group of men at your side, celebrating some sort of office party, who seem to ignore your presence. You were never that interesting where people would glance twice at you. A commotion starts behind you when another man joins the group, to which they call the boss, and in the excitement, one guy accidentally bumps against your back.

"Sorry." He says after ignoring you completely.

You shake your head, unaware of the person joining your side. You quickly look to see the Lady in Red placing her cup near you as she sits down. You gulp, looking around as some sort of joke or prank.

"You wouldn't mind if I sit over here, would you?" Her voice is smooth as she turns to look at you. She was even prettier up close, with soft porcelain skin and lip gloss on her pink lips. Short, straight hair parted to one side, dark as the night without stars. Your mouth opens and closes a few times before clearing your throat.

"Not at all. Not really expecting anyone, anyway." You add, wanting to hit yourself in the head. She smiles, satisfied, before taking a small sip of her drink.

"Having a rough night?"

"Does it look that obvious?"

"Just a little." She jokes, and you nod, defeated. The day you come to the bar exhausted, looking at your worst, is when the Lady in Red joins you. Perfect.

"I promise you I don't look like this every day." You defend yourself, which is a lie "Just most of the time."

"I see."

"Not all of us can look insanely pretty and perfect all the time, you know?" Your flirtatious joke doesn't go unnoticed as she smiles back, reassuring it is all good.

"My condolences to them. And to you." She raises her cup, taking another sip. You toast back, laughing. So, besides looking extremely beautiful and charming, she had a sense of humor.

The loud group at your side decides to go to the dance floor. You don't notice as Lady in Red's eyes follow them. She then asks a question that would have made you spill your drink if you had any in your mouth.

"Would you like to dance?"

You freeze, looking at her face for any sight of a joke. There is none. She seems serious, waiting for your answer. You look at the improvised small dance floor, almost packed with drunk men, and look back at her. You better answer before she runs out of patience, you think, nodding in response.

All eyes are on you as Ada leads you to the dance floor. You can't believe your luck. You probably will look ridiculous with her, tired and awful, as Lady in Red looks perfect at your side, not one single hair out of place, dress hugging all her curves. It almost seems wrong someone so stunning like her dancing with someone so, so like you.

"I must warn you: I don't dance."

"Good. I don't either." Lady in Red closes the distance between your body, getting awfully close. The song is a happy beat, and the drunk men don't seem to care about your presence. Good. You do your best to avoid stepping on Ada's feet as she dances flawlessly to the music.

When the song ends, and another slower ballad starts playing, you begin to leave the dance floor back to your stool, but Lady in Red stops you, her hand in your arm.

"You don't have to leave just yet. If you don't want to." She whispers near your ear, bringing goosebumps to your body. You don't want to leave: get as close as possible to The Lady in Red. You want to bury your head on your neck, hiding yourself from the world. Have your hands travel her body; feel her against your skin. You want to be intimate, fall in love with Lady in Red, and hope she falls in love with you back. Even if it was just for that night.

For someone who said she couldn't dance, you are thankful Lady in Red is there leading you, or else you would have hit against a chair or someone else. You are close now enough to feel her warm breath against her skin. Close to see how brown were her eyes, her lips parted. You want to ask her why she chose you over all the other people. There must be someone as unique as her in that place, and you weren't that one.

The magical moment is broken when one of the drunk guys spills his beer over your back, wetting your shirt. You let go of Lady in Red, startled. At least, it didn't seem no beer was spilled on her.

"Shit. I'm sorry about that. I guess I will go to the bathroom to try to clean up."

"I will be waiting for you." She answers, smiling as a promise. You smile back, feeling flustered like a teenager again. As you walk toward the bathroom, you look at her again, still standing in the middle of the dance floor, her eyes locked in your direction.

Like a damn illusion. 

After using some paper to dry most of your back, you look at yourself in the mirror: you look terrible, and you have no idea why Lady in Red took interest in you. But no time for self-pity. You throw water in your face, fixing yourself the best you can. If she had found any interest in you, she probably had a good reason for it.

She isn't on the dance floor when you return from the bathroom. Fair enough, you think, she probably didn't want to stay around the drunk men. You look toward her usual seat at the bar counter, but she isn't there. You walk quickly, searching for her at the occupied tables. Maybe she found someone attractive, though she is nowhere to be seen. You even attempt to go outside, but it would make you look like a creep. If she had left, she probably had a good reason for it.

You fall into your stool, convinced your magical moment is over. It was nice to feel important for a few moments while it lasted. As you look down, a napkin is neatly folded under your cup. You unfold, finding her handwriting.

"Really enjoyed dancing with you, handsome. Hope to see you again sometime. - Ada"

Ada.

Ada.

The Lady in Red had a name, and it was Ada. You look around as if Ada will appear magically at your side again, and you will throw yourself into her arms, dumb and in love.

But you had a name. And a note. You place it in your pocket, being careful to not damage it, a secret kept well from the entire world. Only you and Ada knew about this.

You couldn't wait to see Ada again.

-x-

Ada Wong watches from the outside as you sit on your stool, back from the bathroom. She plays with a badge - your badge - in her hands, spinning. She should have left already since she was done with her mission, but something kept her there. Curiosity, maybe?

Ada watches as you unfold her note. Ada didn't know why she even left it there. Ada had been observing you for weeks, waiting for a chance to steal your badge. After tonight, she really didn't need you anymore. But as you turned to leave for the bathroom (after she picked the badge from your pocket) and smiled, she felt strange. Maybe you would follow her outside after she left, worried something happened. So that's why Ada left the note. You open a smile as you finish reading, again, that foolish smile.

A big and genuine smile.

You look toward the glass window, and Ada hides more against the corner, worried you might see her. But you don't, too focused on folding that note back carefully into your pocket.

Ada already observed too much. She leaves with one last good look in your direction, placing your badge into her pocket. Maybe, one day, you two would see each other again. And maybe, just maybe, Ada Wong would give you another dance.

[emeritus-fuckers]

„Love Story” ♡ Terzo x f!Reader oneshot (fluff to angst to yandere-ish?)

Loosely based on the song "Love Story" by Sarah Cothran and heavily based on a video made by the wonderful foggyweaver on TikTok. ♡ - Jez

CW: female aligned reader, reader is around Terzo's age, death, murder, blood. slight yandere themes. mentions of masturbation and sex, slight non-con touching (not sexual). chapter i is safe and can be read as a stand-alone for those looking for something lighter. not proofread, we die like my self-respect after discovering this band.

i. romeo take me somewhere we can be alone

Terzo Emeritus, the youngest of Papa Nihil's sons, has always held a special place in your heart. Ever since you remembered. He's always been there, since you were both small children.

You'd learn together. Eat together. Play together.

You'd even have sleepovers together, cuddling together as you slept in his bed. You were inseparable. Terzo would always be there for you, holding your hand as your friendship bloomed and eventually became something more.

Terzo and you would sit on the balcony, enjoying the last few warm days of summer. You enjoyed the sunset, watching all the beautiful colors that would only appear on the sky for this one, special show.

It was a quiet day. You could both hear a few birds still chirp, hidden within the branches. Perhaps they, too, were enjoying the peacefulness of the day. Everything else seemed to either sleep or prepare to sleep, even if it wasn't late yet.

"I wish it was always like this." Terzo spoke up, but his voice didn't disrupt the peaceful silence that was embracing you both as he laid down on the blanket, his head in your lap as one of hands held one of your own, stroking your index finger with his thumb gently.

"Me too." You smiled softly as you looked down at his face. He didn't wear his cardinal make-up today, nor did he wear the cassock he despised. He was dressed more casually, and so were you. Because right now, on this warm, peaceful evening, he wasn't Cardinal Terzo Emeritus. And you weren't Sister [Name]. Right now you were just two childhood best friends who have finally managed to find a peaceful moment together after being challenged by the new responsibilities of adult life. "It's nice. I'm gonna sound stupid, but I miss you. Even if I see you everyday... It's just not the same, you know?"

He smiled softly at your awkward little chuckle, his eyes filled with adoration and pure happiness. You had no idea what you were doing to him. What you have been doing to him for years.

He raised his free hand to cup your cheek. And like the precious darling you were, you pressed your cheek into his palm, your own hand coming to rest on top of his as you smiled at him. Oh, that beautiful, beautiful smile of yours... It would always melt his heart. It was what got him through his days, the memory of your smile always there in his mind, as if branded with hot iron into whatever part of his brain was responsible for happiness.

Of course, the memories of your smiles were nothing compared to the real deal. A memory could never capture all of your beauty. The way light shined in your skin. How your hair framed your face, a bit messy after taking off the dreaded headpiece you were expected to wear as a Sister of Sin. How your eyes would sparkle even in complete darkness, as if they held their own [eye color] galaxies in them.

He sometimes wondered if you felt anything like that towards him. If your day was brighter when you saw him. If your heart ached when he wasn't there with you. If you also stole a T-shirt of his to shove your pillow into just to feel like he was next to you in bed. He doubted you did, but he counted his clothes religiously either way, hoping one day a shirt or a pair of underwear suddenly go missing after one of your visits. He stole your shirts and panties before, just to feel closer to you when he would be lonely at night. Holding your panties in his fist when he touched himself was the most he could get for now, even if it was hardly enough. He was lucky he had a really wild imagination, he could imagine it was your fingers on his cock instead of his own. But at the end of the day, he knew it was nowhere near how good the real you would feel.

He wanted to be your first. He needed to be your first. It was only fair. He's been your first for everything so far, and you were his. He was your first friend, your first kiss, he should also be the first to sleep with you, shouldn't he? He loved you for years and loved him back, wouldn't it be fair if you took each other's virginities as well? If you were the first to touch him? If he was the first to touch you? The first and the only one to touch you.

"It's gonna sound stupid, but..." You spoke up quietly, a small giggle trying to leave your lips. His heart would always melt when you spoke. Especially when you spoke so quietly, when your words were meant for him and him alone. He would drink up any sound you made, every word, every giggle, every sigh. "Sometimes I wish we could run away together. Not have to deal with everything going on here. Just the two of us."

Terzo sat up, making you look at him, a bit surprised, considering how much he loved to rest with his head on your lap. He chuckled at how your eyes widened slightly as you followed his movement.

He moved closer to you, your knee gently bumping into his as he held your face in his hands and looked deep into your eyes, leaning closer until your lips brushed against each other, but not kissing you yet.

"Then let's do that. Let's escape together, somewhere nobody will find us. Somewhere we'll be completely alone."

You nodded slowly and he smiled, closing the distance between your lips. Every kiss he gave you was just as sweet as the first one years ago. It was always so warm, made you feel so safe when he would carefully pull you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist to press your chest against his after he carefully pulled you to straddle his lap.

That summer evening, one of Terzo's biggest dreams came true. He got to be your first.

ii. romeo save me, i've been feeling so alone

"You broke your promise, you miserable old bastard." You wept softly, your heart aching in despair and your knees hurting from the time you've spent on the floor, crying by Terzo's feet.

He remained silent, not even sparing you a glance. He didn't acknowledge you, no matter how much you would beg, scream or cry. You've banged your fists on the floor in a pathetic attempt to get anything out of him. Still nothing.

"Terzo, please... You swore to me... You swore to never leave me, remember...? So keep your promise and get up... I'm begging you..."

Yet, no matter how much you would plead, you had no way of getting his attention. You had no way to make his eyes open, to make his lips smile again, to make his arms hold you close just this one more time. After all, a dead man could do none of that.

Since his death, you'd spend hours in the room he and his brothers were kept, weeping by the glass coffin he was kept in. Although you wouldn't even call it a coffin, no. It was a fucking display case.

A display case so Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator could send Terzo and his brothers on a "tour". So the fans could see their favorite Papa up close, limited only by the glass box they were kept in.

The glass box you knelt next to every night for months now, bawling your eyes out. You knew how pitiful it was, an old satanic nun, a woman entering her 60s, kneeling and crying every night by the coffin of her lover until the Ghouls found her and took her back to bed. It was usually Omega, he was one of the very few people who still came to pay respects to his dear old friend.

Sometimes you'd sit together and talk so you could feel better. The Ghoul has been a great help all this time, always willing to offer you a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen. You'd reminisce together, you more than him. You've known Terzo longer, you've had more memories of him. More tears to shed at his loss.

"Terzo... You can hear me, right...?" You whispered, fully aware of how pathetic you were. How pathetic you looked and sounded. But you'd take any chance to see his mismatched eyes look at you again with the warmth they once held whenever they looked at you. To feel his lips smile as you both kissed, exchanging hushed love confessions each night. To feel his arms wrapped around you protectively, possessively even. To feel the intimacy of feeling him inside you, both of you lost in each other's love. "Please... You must... You must hear me..."

You pressed your palm to the glass, still on your knees. You couldn't get up, you couldn't look at his body. At how his head was stitched back to his body after that dreadful photo session. They cut his head off and made the poor, terrified cardinal pose with it, only to stitch it back to let more fans see him. Pose next to his corpse and take silly selfies. Oh, how you longed to rip their phones out of their hands and break them. But you were forbidden from being in the room altogether, only allowed in because of some arrangements Omega made for you. If you were gone by sunrise, you could remain by your beloved one's side for the night.

"Please... You have no idea how alone I am..." You whispered, as if confessing your sins to him. Sins he always already knew you committed, as he committed most of them with you. "The Ghouls are trying to be there for me, but it doesn't make the pain go away, you know...? It's always there. The aching in my chest, it never leaves."

Your words echoed in your own mind, hoping to hear any response from him. Anything at all, even if he were to yell at you for bothering him in the afterlife. Even if he told you he hated you. All you wanted was to see him again, no matter if he never wanted to deal with you again. You'd be happy enough knowing he was alive and well.

Your heart felt like it was about to either shatter or explode out of misery, tears still falling down your cheeks, as if they could never end, no matter what, your eyes would never stop shedding tears for the love of your life, who just laid there, unmoving, never to respond to you.

"Please... Terzo... I love you... I'm still wearing the ring you gave me..." You wept, the engagement ring he gave to you the day before he died. He proposed to you at sunset, as you both sat on the balcony, like all these years ago, when you took each other's virginities. And you accepted, of course, even if theoretically you couldn't exactly get married. But it was the sentiment that mattered to you both. "Wake up... We'll run away, just like we wanted... We wanted to run away, remember? Together? Please... We can do that, just wake up... Don't leave me alone..."

Yet no matter how much you cried, nothing happened. After all, a dead man can't respond to you.

iii. marry me, juliet, you'll never have to be alone

Every Papa had his own followers. Ones that joined the Clergy just for the Papa they follow. Terzo was no exception. He was charismatic, charming and easy to talk to. He pulled people in easily and gained their loyalty without really trying.

Usually the flame of attraction to a Papa would slowly settle. It would still be there, but after months, it usually was already about the ministry and not just the Papa the people chose to follow. And as it would seem, in this case, Terzo was an exception.

Even after his death, his followers remained loyal. They didn't refuse to acknowledge the new Papa, a man named Copia, but it was clear they didn't really care about him as much as they did for Terzo. Papa Emeritus III was referred to as the Heart of the Clergy, because he was. He brought new life to it when he took the stage, but no matter what he achieved, it was never enough for Sister Imperator. It didn't matter that Terzo was the Papa the people wanted, because he was not the Papa she wanted.

His devotees were growing more and more upset every day. Their rage didn't water down with time, no, it only got worse, it burned more furiously each day. They wanted Terzo's return, just like you did. But while you only cried for him, weak and powerless, they decided to act.

They decided to resurrect Papa Emeritus III.

They got his Ghouls on board, as their souls were bound to their Papa. It took time, but it finally happened. Deep down in the Ministry's basement, in a secret ritual room, they did it. They stole his body, keeping it a secret from everyone. Even from you.

You wanted to visit him again, tears slowly falling down your cheeks as you entered the room where he and his brothers were kept, only to find two glass coffins instead of one.

You fell to your knees, holding back a scream. He wasn't there. The coffin wasn't there. You started calling out for his Ghouls, running around the Ministry. You didn't care if you woke anyone up, it wasn't your problem. Your problem was that the body of the man you loved was missing.

You wanted to wake people up, to get someone to help you search for him, but you were stopped before you could do anything. A Sibling of Sin gripped your arm and pinned you to the nearest wall, covering your mouth with their free hand.

"It's okay, Sister [Name]. I'm a friend." They assured as you struggled to push them off. They waited for you to wear yourself out before taking their hand away, still holding you against the wall so you wouldn't run off.

"What in Lucifer's name do you think you're doing?!" You hissed at the sibling, their fingers leaving bruises on your arm from how tight their grip was, but they didn't seem to notice your discomfort. If anything, they seemed excited for something.

"Omega sent me for you." The Sibling explained, making your already teary eyes widen and threaten with more tears. Omega? Why would he send for you? Did he know what happened? Did he find Terzo's body? Did something happen to him when Terzo was taken away? The Ghouls were connected to their Papas, even after their deaths. So maybe... Maybe Omega was hurt?

Were you about to lose one of the few friends you could actually talk to?

"What happened to Omega?" You asked quietly, trying your best to put the despair of your beloved one's disappearance. You wanted Terzo back, yes, but you knew he was dead. And Omega wasn't. Hopefully he wasn't.

"I cannot say. Not here. Please, come with me. Everything will make sense then."

It was frustrating, not knowing what was going on. Terzo being gone, now something was going on with Omega... Why was so much happening in one night? And what exactly was happening, anyway? You were confused, your heart and mind racing. You had so many thoughts rushing through your head, you were overwhelmed, and yet somehow at the same time you felt like your head was completely empty.

When Terzo was alive, you've always felt well. Even as years passed, he would always make you feel young. No matter how insecure you would feel as you hit another birthdays. Even if you were both in your 40s and 50s, his soft touch and warm gaze would make you feel loved, like back when you were both young, still discovering each other's bodies. Even as you got older, he'd still whisper praises to you, talking about how beautiful you were, how wonderful you felt and how sweet you tasted.

Even as your hair started greying, even as signs of aging slowly got to you, his gaze never changed. He'd always say you were just as beautiful as you were years ago. While you remained aware of changes in your body, he'd make you believe you were still beautiful and worthy of all the love he was giving you.

When he died, you truly started to feel your age. You felt old, lonely and vulnerable, his Ghouls remaining the only friends you still had. And now something was happening to the friend you held closest. It must've been serious, if he sent out a Sibling of Sin instead of getting you himself or sending another Ghoul. You could only hope Omega was alright.

"Where are you taking me...?" You questioned quietly, following the Sibling to the basement. You thought they'd take you to the Ghoul's lair, but that was not the way. You did not recognize the halls you were walking through, which only spiked your anxiety even more. "Where's Omega?"

They didn't give you a proper response, only telling you not to worry about it. You got a very bad feeling deep in your stomach, a pain that told you to run, to get away. And you tried. You walked slower, gaining some distance before trying to slowly get away from the Sibling. You didn't run, you were already exhausted from all the stress you were going through just this night. Instead you hid behind a pillar, trying your best to sneak away.

The Sibling must've realized they've lost you, because a few minutes later, as you quietly tried to make your way back to a more familiar looking area, you heard some frantic yelling, accompanied by almost an animalistic growl. And then you could hear someone running around, most likely in search for you. You panicked, trying to get away a little faster. You heard many voices call out to you, none of them familiar. You started doubting Omega had anything to do with all this.

Why would they search for you? Could it be because you noticed Terzo's body missing? Were they the ones responsible for the disappearance? But why? It didn't make sense, why would they take him? Were they going to sell his body? Sister Imperator wouldn't have ordered anyone to get rid of the bodies, they were too profitable. And Terzo wasn't hated, no, everyone who ever met him easily grew to adore him.

Perhaps they wanted to steal the other dead Papas as well? Some obsessed fans would give a lot to have them in their possession, as sick as it was. Would that be it? They probably wanted to get rid of you because you discovered them.

"[Name]!" A familiar voice called out to you, making you look over your shoulder. A familiar, tall Ghoul. One that let you cry into his shoulder for so many nights. So he really was here.

"Omega...?" You slowly walked over to him, putting your hands on his arms, still shaken up from the situation you've found yourself in. This was not what you were expecting when you were awoken by nightmares, like you have been for the last months. You couldn't sleep, so you went to see him again, even if some younger Siblings of Sin started to gossip about you, turning you into some local urban legend or cryptid. You needed Terzo to comfort you after the nightmares, even if you would always end up breaking down in tears when you saw him. "What's going on? What's the deal with all those Siblings? Where's Terzo? He's gone, the... The body, the coffin... It's... It's..."

"I know. He's not gone." Omega gently put his arm around your shoulders and squeezed your arm comfortingly, like he did many times before. He started leading you somewhere, and even though it was the same path the Sibling of Sin had lead you down earlier, you felt safe. You knew Omega, you knew you could trust him.

"He's not...?" You looked up at him weakly, trying to keep your tears at bay. Your sight was blurry already, but you could easily recognize the Ghoul's features. "Wait, what's that on your chin...?"

The Ghoul glanced up at you as your 'old people instincts' took over and you moved your hand to wipe the stain under his lips with your thumb. His eyes flicked away from your nervously and if you weren't so distracted with all the stress you went through before, you would've noticed him tensing up.

He then explained to you that he was eating before he found you, so he just wiped his mouth and must've missed a spot. And knowing how Ghouls fed on raw meat (more often than not, raw human meat), you simply nodded, sighing heavily as you took off your headpiece to feel better. You were never fond of the uniform you had to wear, but you also didn't want to risk getting scolded, so unless you were alone or with someone you trusted, you kept it on. You were too old to rebel against it, anyway.

"Were are we going...?" You asked nervously, playing with the headpiece in your hands. You wanted to rip it to shreds, and you would have, if you were less shaken up.

"To see him."

"So you know where Terzo is?" You looked up at him, your eyes shining with the tiniest sparks of hope. And he nodded, leading you to a large double door.

The Ghoul gave you one last comforting squeeze before opening the door for you. It must've been really heavy, considering that even he struggled with it a bit, and he was by no means a small or weak man. Especially since even the smallest of Ghouls were stronger than most people.

Once the door was open enough for you both to squeeze inside the room, you were met with a place very similar to one of the many chapels upstairs. The benches where Siblings of Sin would normally sit were empty, but you could see the rest of Terzo's Ghouls in a tight circle around the altar, whispering and muttering.

The glass coffin, or whatever was left of it, laid shattered on the ground, Terzo's gloves and robes next to it. The robes were torn up, and you were almost sure the clothes were bloody. A thought of the Ghouls eating him crossed your mind, but they were too protective over him, they'd never doo that. Not even the fact that their fingers and faces were covered in blood made you doubt that, not even the heavy metallic smell of blood.

You didn't realize Omega announced his return with you until the other Ghouls moved away from the altar, revealing Terzo sitting on it. He was alive, wearing just the white shirt, dark pants and shoes, the clothes he'd always wear under the Papal Robes. His hair was messy, but still remained somewhat in the brushed back look he always had. His facepaint was still on, surprisingly not smudged too much, but what truly was disturbing was the blood. It was normal on Ghouls. It wasn't normal on him.

It was around his mouth, like he was ripped away after taking a bite from a large, bloody piece of meat. His hands were covered in blood, too. And his neck... The wound on his neck, although the neck itself was stitched back and it didn't look like it would fall off, the wound was slowly bleeding, getting his shirt as just bloody.

You were frozen in your spot, Omega gently holding your shoulder and observing you from the corner of his eye, ready to catch you if you were to faint. But you wouldn't faint, no. You just stood there, your eyes wide, as Terzo slowly slid off the altar and walked over to you. He stumbled a bit, but it didn't seem to matter to him, considering his smile.

It was the same and completely different at the same time. How he called out your name in the same loving tone, a sound you've yearned for ever since his death, but it wasn't like you remembered it. Was felt like it was trapping you, like he was luring you in with his voice. It felt possessive.

His eyes were different, too. The still looked at you endearingly, like you were the most beautiful and precious person in the world. But there was something else, something that seemed crazy, how his gaze was quickly scanning your face and body, it no longer seemed like he was in love. It felt like he was obsessed.

The smile on his face, the same warm and loving smile you would see every morning for years when he held you close and whispered a sweet "good morning, beautiful" to your ears... With the blood and his obsessive gaze... It didn't feel like Terzo. It felt like a demon, maybe even Satan himself, stood in front of you, merely posing as the man you loved.

"[Name]... Oh, my darling... You're even more beautiful than the day you were ripped away from me..." He spoke quietly, taking your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing your cheek bones as Omega walked away to the rest of the Ghouls. It felt weird. It was Terzo's touch, yes, but it didn't feel like Terzo touching you. His fingers lacked the softness, it no longer felt like all these light touches you've known at nights with him. He wasn't squeezing your face, no, but the way he held it was different. The way he brushed his fingers through your hair was different. It felt like he was enamoured with you like a little child is excited for their favorite toy.

You felt wrong. Everything in the situation felt wrong. You loved him, you longed for his return, but it was always just a fantasy. To have him actually stand here, in front of you, his fingers covering your your face and hair in blood... It was the truth. It was the real life, even if it felt like a lie. Somehow, your biggest dream coming true made you feel like a nightmare caught you, sinking its claws into your skin were your newly resurrected beloved touched you.

"So beautiful... So precious... Oh, how happy it makes me to see you again..." He spoke quietly, leaving small kisses all over your face making you squirm away anxiously. He seemed shocked as you took a step back from him, but he was always quick to act, so without hesitation, he held onto your wrist, pulling you right back into him. "Please, don't run away from me, amore. I've missed you so much, I need you to be with me, sí? Need you right next to me, at all times..."

"Stop touching me..." You whimpered and he looked at you with the most heartbroken gaze you've ever seen. Like his heart was just shattered, and that made your already wounded one break just a little more. "Please, I... I just need a minute..."

"Oh, my love..." He muttered, pulling you closer instead of letting go as you longed for. Just this once, he promised himself, just this once he'd put his needs over your comfort. Just this once, and only for a little bit. You'd understand, won't you? Yes, of course you'd understand. "We're reunited at long last, doesn't that make you happy?"

His thumb stroked your lower lip as he held your chin. A feeling so familiar, yet so foreign. Your mind raced with uncertainty and anxiety, but your body reacted, your lips parting, as if begging him to just kiss you already. And he did. The kiss was the only part of this that felt exactly like him. Like it always did. There was no new-found possessiveness, because it was always there. His kisses were always starved, longing. Just like now. And you kissed him back, your own longing for him taking over. Oh, he missed you so much, and you missed him.

He was visibly calmer once he had his first kiss since being resurrected, the obsessiveness and possessiveness replaced by the tenderness and admiration he always held for you. And so he kissed you, again and again. And you kissed back, again and again.

"You still have the ring..." He noticed once you finally ended the kissing session to catch your breath. He held your hand and now started kissing all over your fingers only to rub the back of your hand against his cheek. "So it's still a yes, right, my love? You'll marry me?"

And then, seeing how genuine he was about the question, you stopped holding back. You nodded, letting your tears fall freely as you threw yourself at him, crying into his shoulder about just how much you've missed him. He held you tightly, whispering comforting yours into your ear and kissing your hair, smiling softly at you before giving the Ghouls a subtle glance.

They understood and quickly got rid of the dead, massacred body that remained hidden away from your sights so far. The ruined body of the Sibling of Sin that was supposed to bring you to Terzo, hidden behind the altar, their throat ripped out with your lover's very own teeth.

"I love you, my darling..." He whispered to you, your face pressed against his chest. "You will never be alone again."

[e-dubbc11]

A Better Night

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: A couple of swear words, fluffy bunnies and unicorns, alludes to smexy time but PG-13 for the most part. Mention of conceal carry, other self defense weapons

Word Count: 3.3k-ish

Summary: You’ve had a terrible day at work, Billy surprises you at home with dinner and ready to pamper you and make sure you have a better night

A/N: I finished this before I left for my vacation so it’s just been sitting for a month and a half, waiting patiently to be published. I’ve had dreams about this, we all just want to be pampered, right? Especially by this man! I wrote it pretty quickly so if there are mistakes or if it’s boring or bad, I’m sorry. But I hope you enjoy it!

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

It had already been a long day and it was only noon. Your morning was filled with meetings, emails and zero time for breaks. He had called you on your lunch break, as usual, and you had been short with him even though you didn’t mean to be. His initial reaction was to snap back at you but he’s learned a few things since the beginning of your relationship.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking again. “Well I hope your day gets better, sweet girl.” He said that knowing full well that while your work day may not get better, he was going to try his hardest to make sure your night would be. You’ve gone above and beyond making Billy feel better after a hard day at work, so it was his turn to return the favor.

After hanging up, you immediately regretted being snippy with him. All he did was call to see how your day was going just like he did every day. It was the sweetest thing and you loved him so much for it. Billy didn’t deserve that, so before your lunch break was over, you sent him a text. I’m sorry, handsome. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I love you. But you didn’t receive a reply back and assumed he was probably mad at you. Great, having your boyfriend mad at you just adds to the already banner day you were having.

Your work day didn’t get any better after lunch either. The papers just kept piling higher and higher, the emails kept coming in, the phone never stopped ringing, and all you wanted to do was to go home and relax with a glass of wine until Billy came home. Apologies were better in person anyway.

Billy was on your mind for the rest of the day because of how you treated him and you felt awful. You just hoped he would accept your apology.

After pulling your keys out of your purse, you thought you heard music coming from inside your apartment. Was the television on? Billy never got home before you did, so you couldn’t be positive he was on the other side of the door. He did like to watch the news in the morning, maybe he accidentally left it on.

As you were putting your key into the lock, you noticed one of your freshly manicured nails was broken. Fantastic. You couldn’t get inside fast enough but you were ready in case there was an intruder inside—an intruder who liked listening to romantic music while they robbed you. That sounded absolutely ridiculous but you never know so you had your kitty knuckles on one hand and pepper spray in the other.

Billy heard your keys so he stopped what he was doing in the kitchen to greet you when you walked in.

You carefully opened the door and peeked your head inside and saw him standing near the dining room table. He was wearing your apron that said “No Bitchin’ in My Kitchen,” his dress shirt sleeves were undone and rolled up to his elbows, and he greeted you with his million dollar smile like he always did. “Welcome home, beautiful.” He noticed your weapons of choice in your hands. “Shit baby, put your kitty knuckles and pepper spray away, it’s only me!” Billy started to laugh. “I am very proud of you for being ready though, just in case. I’m surprised you don’t have your piece out.” He joked. Billy made sure you were prepared and equipped at all times.

“Well I didn’t think an intruder would be listening to romantic music while stealing our stuff but I still wasn’t sure. I was just on high alert after the day I had.” You joked back with a smile of your own.

Immediately, you started to apologize profusely. “Billy, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

He cut you off.

“No, no I know you were just having a hard day, my love.” He said as he removed your purse from your shoulder. “Now, don’t move.” He turned on his heels and headed towards the kitchen, whatever he was cooking smelled delicious. The scent of garlic, onion, and Italian herbs hung in the air.

The red wine sat out breathing in a decanter on the kitchen counter, there were fresh long stem, red roses in the tall vase on the dining room table, and the tapered candles were lit. Everything looked so beautiful.

Like he had read your mind, Billy came back with a glass of wine and he kissed you on the forehead. You didn’t deserve all of this and you couldn’t help but smile because of how adorable he looked in your apron.

“You did all this for me, baby?” You asked, still surprised by it all. Setting your wine on the table, you went to him, wrapped your arms around him as he embraced you too, the scent of his cologne still clung to his shirt from this morning, and you stood there holding each other waiting to see who would let go first.

It was you who pulled away first but it was only to clasp your hands behind his neck and pull him towards you for a kiss. He tasted like tomato sauce and basil. “Well I left work early because I wanted to make sure your evening was better.” He leaned down to kiss you again, the tension in your body loosened slightly, and you were just so relieved to be home with the man you loved.

“So have a seat, my love. Dinner will be ready in a little while.” He gestured for you to go and sit on the couch. “Go on. And don’t distract me.” He winked at you and gently smacked you on your ass, as you let out a little yelp.

You could see why Billy was in charge of people. They listened to him, followed his orders, and worked hard for him. It was because he took care of his employees and now he was taking care of you.

So you removed your shoes, walked over to the couch and sat down with your wine. You were so used to doing chores and cooking when you came home, you weren’t exactly sure what to do with yourself so you asked Billy if he needed any help. “Do you need any help, handsome?”

He yelled from the kitchen. “You’ve been on the couch for 30 seconds and you wanna help?! RELAX, baby! Can you do that for me, please?” You could tell he was smiling as he was saying it but he was very serious that he just wanted you to decompress from your day and you can’t do that if you’re on your feet, trying to help him.

So you just continued to sit on the couch, with your wine, while Billy did whatever he was doing in the kitchen. You were pretty sure he was making the lasagna he knows you love so much.

It was easy to get a rise out of Billy by bothering him and asking him questions, especially while he was cooking. “What are you makin’ in there, anyway?” You asked as you tried to keep from cracking a smile.

“Don’t you even worry about it.” His slight New York accent showing through and sounding incredibly sexy.

You angled your body so your back was resting against the arm of the couch, swung your legs up and turned your head so you could watch him through the breakfast bar window, even though you could only see him from the waist up. His profile was sharp, he had just taken his beard down a little that morning so you could see all of the angles on the side of his face.

Billy’s deep brown eyes concentrating on cutting the herbs to add to the sauce, tasting everything and adding spices when needed. You watched his lips touch the wooden spoon to taste the sauce, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip, he raised his eyebrows, nodded his head and set the spoon down on the stove.

He must have felt you staring at him because he turned to face you, smiled lovingly at you and his eyes were glittering like chips of dark glass. “You see something you like, beautiful?” Billy asked.

You smiled back. “I always see something I like when I’m looking at you, my love.” His nose turned a little pink as well as his ears, he was blushing.

Dinner was delicious, Billy did make his lasagna, a Caesar salad and for dessert he picked up some cannoli from the bakery. You each talked about your work day, made each other laugh, and you just felt the stress melt away from your body.

This was exactly what you needed after the day you had, but he wasn’t finished spoiling you yet. You started to gather the dishes to bring to the kitchen when he stopped you.

“No, no love—I’ll do that.”

“But you cooked, Billy so I clean up, those are the rules.” You said, looking a little confused.

“I said I’ll do it, baby.” The tone of his voice was tense, he really did not want you to help. “I laid something out on the bed for you, go put it on.”

You bit back your smile. “What? Billy, you’ve already done so much for me.”

“Just go put it on, sweet girl. I’ll be there in a minute.” He winked at you again and started to clear the table.

Curiously, you proceeded across the living room floor and headed towards your bedroom, glancing over your shoulder a couple of times because you could feel Billy looking at you, waiting to see what your reaction would be.

You adjusted the dimmer switch to give your bedroom a dim glow, he had candles burning in there too and there on the bed was what looked to be the warmest, fluffiest bathrobe you think you’ve ever seen. You reached out to touch it, the fabric ran through your fingers like butter, it was exceptionally soft. What was he up to, anyway?

You undressed and slipped the robe on. It was the softest thing that has ever been on your body, you just stood there for a minute, admiring it, touching it, and you couldn’t believe it was yours. Sitting on the edge of the bed with your legs crossed, you waited for Billy.

You could hear him rinsing the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher, the silverware made chime like noises, and he had wrapped up the rest of the food and put it in the refrigerator.

“Do you like it, baby?” He asked you with his hands in his pockets, while leaning against the door frame, looking at you from head to toe, and smirking while he did it.

“Like it? Billy, I LOVE it! This is beautiful and so cozy.” Your boyfriend was just full of surprises tonight.

“Ok, stay right there.” He walked into your bathroom and began to run the water in the bathtub. You watched him scurry back and forth between rooms, carrying candles, more red roses, a glass of wine, and the strong scents of lavender and rose coming from the bathtub smelled like heaven.

After the tub was full, he turned the water off and shuffled more things around. You bit down on your thumb in anticipation, smiling from ear to ear as you did so. Billy always had to be the best, even if his only competition was from himself.

He tried so hard to make you happy but sometimes smaller gestures meant more than more extravagant ones. The fact that he cooked dinner for you would have been enough but he always wanted to do more.

He made sure everything was exactly the way he wanted it before leading you into the bathroom, he had you close your eyes of course and when you opened them it looked like a scene from a movie.

The warm soft glow from the candles gave off just enough light to see everything he did, your glass of wine was resting on the edge, an inflatable pillow for your head, and red rose petals covering every inch of the surface of the water.

“Billy…it’s beautiful. I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” You said as you snaked your arms around his long torso, he hugged you back and kissed the top of your head.

“I just really wanted you to have a good night, love.” He squeezed you tight and tilted your chin up so you were looking into his endless dark eyes. He inched his face closer to yours and your lips met in the middle, softly at first, and then with more vigor and passion. His tongue twisted and knotted with yours as he started to untie your robe, but he pulled away. “Didn’t I say not to distract me?” He said as you shied away slightly while looking up at him. “Come on, baby. Get in the tub and enjoy your bath, ok?”

It did look very inviting and you actually could not wait to get in. Billy untied the robe, opened it to reveal your naked body underneath, the look in his eyes was primal and raw, his eyes roamed all over you like he wanted to take you right there but tonight was about helping you relax. He let the robe fall completely to the floor, took your hand in his, led you to the tub, and helped you in.

The water was hot, borderline too hot but it felt amazing and the lavender bath oil you could already feel it on your skin. You were at complete ease, he made you forget all about the bad day you had.

Time seemed to stand still while you relaxed in the bath, you haven’t felt this calm in a long time. The tightness in your body let go and when you finally stood up, your legs felt like jelly. You wanted to thank Billy for everything he had done for you tonight, no one has ever done anything like that for you so you dried yourself off, covered yourself with the robe and headed for the living room.

When you walked into the room, there was Billy. He was sitting on the couch with his eyes closed and his head propped up with his hand and his elbow resting on the arm of the couch. “He sleeps.” You said quietly to yourself while smiling. Not wanting to disturb him too much, you carefully walked over to the couch and sat down next to him with ease. Brushing a stray hair away from his face, you sat up on your knees and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, the bristles of his beard tickling your soft lips.

You weren’t exactly sure why, but tears welled up in your eyes thinking about all of the things this sweet man had done for you today and what he does for you every day. A tear fell down your cheek, that’s when he opened his eyes, somewhat startled. He must have been sleeping hard.

Billy looked over at you, eyes half open and gave you a smile. “Hey sweet girl. How was your bath?” He quickly noticed your tear stained cheek. “What’s wrong? Did I do it wrong? I did it wrong didn’t I, the bath oil was too much? Not enough?”

You grazed his beard with your thumbs. “Billy, no no everything was perfect, baby.”

“Then why are you crying, my love?”

You crawled into his lap, buried your face into the crook of his neck, and kissed him under the shirt collar, his skin was warm and you felt the smile spread across his face. “I don’t know, I just—well, no one has done anything like this for me before. You thought of everything—this was so sweet—and, I just want to say—thank you and…I love you.” Another tear fell down your cheek.

Billy swept his thumb across your cheek to gently wipe the tear away. “Y/n, I just wanted to pamper you a little bit. You put up with me working long hours, my moods, and just…me. You put up with me so it’s the least I could do.” He looked away from you, he did that when he was embarrassed or ashamed of himself in some way, even though he had no reason to be.

“Billy, look at me please.” He turned to face you and pressed his lips together. “We take care of each other, baby. That’s why we, for lack of a better term, work. You love me, right?”

The expression on his face softened and he furrowed his brow a little, like he couldn’t believe that you could even question something like that. “More than anything.”

You gently scratched his scalp with your fingernails and gave him a warm smile. “That’s why we do things for each other, I don’t just put up with you…I love you.”

Billy still really wasn’t used to having someone love and care for him as you do. In the beginning, he always felt the need to buy you something to show you how much he cared for you or take you to an expensive restaurant. While those things are nice, you would try to convey that it wasn’t always necessary.

He’s learned that little gestures like surprising you with flowers, or a cup of coffee, bringing home ice cream because it’s your favorite, are all ways to let you know that he cares about you, they tell you that he loves you, just like he did tonight.

He didn’t give you a diamond bracelet or take you on a fancy vacation, Billy made you feel loved by making you dinner, drawing you a hot bath and making sure you were relaxed. That was more special than any piece of jewelry he could buy you.

“I love you too, sweet girl.” He leaned forward slowly to have his lips meet yours. They tasted like red wine and chocolate from the cannoli.

“Did you eat that cannoli without me?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

He gave you a surprised look. “Cannoli? What cannoli? I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, beautiful.” Even though he was trying to bite back a smile, it didn’t matter because his eyes were doing the smiling for him.

You inched closer to him and pressed your lips to his again. “Nice try, handsome. I can taste it on your lips ya know.”

Billy touched his tongue to his top teeth and looked down at the tie for the robe then back up to your face.

“You see something you like, Mr. Russo?” You knew calling him that drove him absolutely crazy.

He started to untie your robe.

“I think I could see it better without this on.” He tugged on the robe a little.

As you sat back on your heels, straddling him, Billy untied the robe and lightly touched your smooth glowing skin underneath. He took in the scents of lavender and rose that were leftover from your bath as he nipped at your jaw, your chin tilted up to give him better access to the sweet spot on your neck, and you started to unbutton his dress shirt.

“Let’s go to bed.” He growled in your ear.

Your bathrobe fell to the floor on your way to the bedroom, Billy audibly gasped as he followed close behind you.

You turned around to face him in the doorway to your bedroom, he pulled you by the waist so your body was flush with his as you asked him “Are you finished pampering me, my love?”

“Oh I’m not even close to being done with you.” Billy whispered. “Not…even…close.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @munsonownsmyass @music-indie-tv

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕

[silentwillowwhisperer]

Ok ok ok.

I want you to picture Keith, in all of his Keith-ish glory.

Now instead of the red cropped jacket and black shirt, imagine a turtleneck tank top. One of the fancy ones made of the same material as a sweater.

And now give him a black flower crown with rainbow blooms weaved in here and there.

This is what you could expect Keith to be wearing while running his self-owned flower shop.

Not what you would expect, right?

But his dad had taught him to respect nature and always find beauty in the simple things around him.

So when he saw this perfect building for sale that had plenty of space for him to grow things in the back and sell them in the front, he jumped at the chance.

And anyway, he kind of liked the flower crown.

When a tall, blue-eyed man enters his shop, he swoons internally.

Like, guys, there's a hot guy standing in Keith shop right now. Hit the panic button! Throw water over your head to calm down! Throw water over the hot guy's head to cool him down! Help!

Keith realizes that he's been staring at the guy for way too long. While blushing lightly, he hold his hand out.

"Hi. I'm Keith. You're pretty."

As soon as he realizes what just came out of his mouth, he wants combust. Wait, scratch that, then his guts would be over Mr. Way Too Hot For His Own Good. That would be even more embarassing.

But to his surprise, the guy starts laughing hard enough to bust a lung.

"WOW. That was so awkward. Damn, you really don't know how to socialize, do you? Anyway, I'm Lance, and you're cute."

Keith was slightly put of that he was described as 'cute,' but he let it slide.

Lance reached forward to grip Keith's hand in a firm shake.

"Now, how about you help me find some flowers for my friend? I need something that says, 'I'm really very sorry, please don't kill me.'"

Keith grabbed Lance the biggest bundle of white tulips he had. He took it into the back to wrap it gently.

After Lance had paid and was walking out the door, Keith finally worked up the nerve to call out his name.

"Lance! Wait! Can I... can I have your number?"

Lance only grinned. "Don't worry. I've got plenty more friends to apologize to. See you tomorrow, flower boy."

Keith was so caught up melting into a puddle behind the cash register while watching Lance leave to notice that the guy had already forgotten him name.

The things we do for love.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Yesterday I watched this wrestling thing, and it featured Matthew Crosby, and that reminded me of how much I like Matthew Crosby every time I see (or hear) him, which isn’t all that often. That made me decide I should listen to some of his actual comedy, which I’m now going to do, but before I do that, I thought I’d make a list of everything I know about Matthew Crosby:

- Turned up in Catsdown’s dictionary corner a couple of times, was very funny both times. I think I mixed him up with Adam Buxton at first because they both sat in dictionary corner, wore glasses, and discussed something vaguely nerdy.

- I also saw him in an episode of 8 Out of 10 Cats, where I think he said almost nothing.

- Got referenced sometimes on Russell Howard and Jon Richardson’s radio show, and I think he co-hosted the show with Jon sometimes after Russell left, though I haven’t actually heard any of the post-Russell episodes.

- Does a radio show with Ed Gamble, which I also haven’t heard.

- Is wearing a 30 Rock t-shirt in his Wikipedia picture, which immediately makes me like him.

- Co-created and co-wrote Hypothetical. I thought I remembered him appearing on the show at some point, but I just looked it up and he hasn’t.

- Did an episode of Alan Davies: As Yet Untitled, in which he talked a lot of shit about Cliff Richard and discussed how he used to be a terrible teacher.

- Used to date Josie Long, so he has to be pretty cool, right? I assume that if Josie Long likes or has ever liked someone, they have to be, at minimum, all right. Like how I don’t know much about Ellis James but I assume he must be cool because Isy Suttie likes him.

- Was referred to by Daniel Kitson, in 2007, as his hipster friend. Given what Kitson himself was like at that time, I cannot imagine how hipster Matthew Crosby must have been to get that title.

- Is in a sketch group called Pappy’s Fun Club that has existed for a long time. They turn up a lot when I watch videos from comedy festivals, even the ones from many years ago. They also have a podcast that I haven’t listened to, but have heard a couple of episodes recently (a regular one and this Christmas special they did) and really, really enjoyed both.

- Did one of those radio show episodes with Daniel Kitson, as part of a series of episodes that Kitson did from 2-6 AM, while at the Melbourne Comedy Festival in 2008, with a different comedian as a guest each time. Crosby spent much of the episode rolling his eyes (or doing the audio equivalent of that) about Kitson’s insistence on playing an entire Lucksmiths album all in one go, and trying to show off for his then-new-ish girlfriend, whom he said was listening from England.

My main thought about that one is that Matthew Crosby came off as the most normal of all the guests on those radio episodes, though that might just be because he was following Steve Hall, who wasn’t so much a human radio presenter as a hundred balls of self-loathing stacked on top of each other under a trench coat. Matthew Crosby managed to come off as relatively normal compared to that.

It’s like – okay, you know how everyone in comedy, very much including the heterosexual men, sort of has a crush on Daniel Kitson? It’s like that Heat Magazine thing that people made a lot of jokes about for a few years, with Jon Richardson and Russell Howard being declared people’s weird crushes. Well Daniel Kitson is everyone’s weird crush, in the sense that it causes everyone to be a bit weird while working with or talking about him, and in each case that comes out in a slightly different way. Steve Hall might be in the top position as the person with the weirdest crush on Daniel Kitson (I’d put Stewart Lee in second place, in case anyone’s wondering, though David O’Doherty has to be in the running), and Matthew Crosby on the more normal end of the spectrum. He was able to spend a night doing radio with Daniel Kitson and be, especially compared to the others, almost a normal person about it. My main takeaway from the episode was “Wow, that was surprisingly normal.”

- Did a really accurate parody of annoying fight hype reporters at The Wrestling event yesterday.

Anyway, I think those are all the things I know about Matthew Crosby, before actually listening to any of his comedy, which I shall do soon.

[ray-the-fanatic]

gave april, casey and karai redesigns in my au, via picrew cuz my drawing skills are still a wip, for fun vibe purposes

for april:

- made april's skin have a pink tint to fit her kraang origins (i also think it fits her character design)

- gave her heterochromia, her right eye is blue-ish gray while her left is dark green (again to fit her kraang origins), i always felt her n mikey's colors were too similar so i made her eyes more distinct

- her hair is more dark strawberry blonde-ish than red cuz i actually like the concept art of her being blonde

- i was torn between giving her braided pigtails or a pixie cut, in the end i stuck with the pixie cut as a homage to one of her concept designs and also cuz short hair april is a look™

- her clothing is more diverse, she still has her number 1 shirt but she changes styles from time to time depending on her mood (me fr)

- she's basically the plucky, fun loving big sis/aunt but will not hesitate calling out anyone's bs (esp her little bro's) and definitely wrecks any bad guys' shit. she's also kind of a snarky brat when it comes to the lesser villains and i love it lol

for casey:

- made casey's skin tone somewhat similar to his 03 incarnation but more distinct

- gave him dark brown eyes, i noticed there wasn't a lot of brown eyed characters in the 12 series so i took it as an opportunity

- poofier hair. i know casey's a rowdy boy but i feel like fluffy-messy hair fits him better both character wise and aesthetically wise

- also longer hair cuz he deserves it (he still has the bandana to keep his hair from getting in his eyes)

- he's a hockey player and a vigilante so he's got bandaged wounds along with cuts, bruises and scars galore, makes him feel scruffy y'know?

- short sleeve hoodie with flames (that still has spray paint marks) and cut jeans is this boy's clothing, he absolutely doesn't care abt his sense of style imo

- he's still a chaotic menace wanting to provide justice ™, just looks more scrappy and is an uncle now (he's also hispanic, fun hc)

for karai:

- tanner skin tone, she also has a more hooked nose shape and love it

- gave her red eyes instead of gold cuz it works for her, it also connects her with splinter (and donnie on some level)

- much like casey, her hair is bit longer n fluffier just styled somewhat similarly to her hair in canon, minus the bangs

- she has a different hair color on her streaks/to the roots instead of underneath, tho wasn't feeling the gold blonde so i made it white instead, it goes well with her eyes tbh (i made her sides and eye shadow white as a homage to her snake form but mostly cuz in my au instead of getting mutated she becomes heavily imprisoned and her sides turn white due to stress... did i mention this au gets angsty?)

- she has massive scars, she's been fighting since she was a kid so she's bound to have plenty of them, they're more visible than casey's tho and she's got a lot on her back as well

- for her non-battle ready clothes, she's mostly got a biker chick sorta style but on the clamer days she wears tank tops and black yoga pants, just a casual badass

- misguided antagonist turned big sister/aunt who's still processing her trauma just more healthier, therapy via baby turtle nephews. she's still cunning n sneaky just without the misguidedness. she also loves to spite her former villain allies, tiger claw esp

sorry this got long winded, just wanted to share my redesign n i got carried away with the explanations, i also gave everyone piecings cuz again... self indulgence 😅

Okay first off sorry for taking a bit to get to this be toed up with work and I wanted to give this a good read over when I saw the length cause I llve what you tell me for this fic ;3;

April:

I love the idea of her having some pink in her skin tone to allude to her being part krangg I loke the shorter hair as well mostly cause I enjoy the short hair style look I lole your idea for a strawberry blond in color cause in the concepts she was going to be blonde at one point. I think tje desing fits well for her personality idk but she got those cool aunt vibes to me xD

Caesy:

I love that you kept his brown eye. Maybe cause I have brown eyes but I love brown eye charayers cause brown eyes are very underrated u_u also love bringing back his skin tone from 03 ;3; and him being Hispanic yes look I'm Latina give me the rep!! I also see casey being Latino any way xD personal headcannon btws. So I enjoy when others put him as Latino or Hispanic;3; and I llve his look it fits casey has his own style and gotta stick to it uwu

Karai:

I love her;3; I like the white hair stripes though over tje blonde idk I feel it works better with her look and the homages to her snake mutation also yes give the angst I love angst 👀

[rinneheart]

so there was this weird liminal nightmare i had...

there was this dream of mine in 2020, it was very weird. there is something about it that i cant explain in words, but ill try.

i had just moved into the new house with family and we decided to take a walk down the road. take note that at this time, not all the houses on the streets were fully constructed in real life, a fact that manifested itself into this dream. as we walk along the road, we see this house in the same model as ours, but there was something wrong with it, i just couldnt figure out what. it gave me this weird, eerie feeling. like something was clearly wrong here. i look up to where the terrace is supposed to be when i see him. this man, he had his hair neatly styled to the left. he wore medium rectangular glasses. he was tall, attractive, and classy. i cant quite remember what exactly he was wearing but it seems to be a white button up shirt with nicely fitted, not too tight, denim pants. i dont remember exactly how, but my family and I made it into his house. everything is exactly where it should be according to the model house. same floor plan, same measurements, but definitely not the same house. it was strange. almost as if i was being watched. and me alone. the house was nicely furnished with a bit of human touches here and there, but absolutely nothing about the house screams human. the house was just a nightmare waiting to happen.

my conscious self bore curiousity like fruit, and i found myself coming up the stairs, somewhere i definitely shouldnt be. again, same floor plan as it should, so i went towards the direction of this one room, which should be my sister's bedroom at home. as i entered, though not without struggle as the door was locked, or rather, stuck, there was coquette furnishing everywhere. this was when coquette was barely a thing, in fact, it was a year before the initial trend started. it was giving melanie martinez with shades of mental hospital lighting. the laced decorations on the cushions of chairs and bedsheets had little to no contrast to the extreme white of the walls, floors, and light. everything was so white. too white, if that's even possible. then there was this girl, on the floor, across the room from me. she looked starved. she looked controlled, if that makes any sense. a victim of sadistic "dollkeeping". she was in chains, or handcuffs, i cant remember, but she was bound on the bed. her eyes screamed help but her mouth remained silent, yet i could hear every word in her mind. i panicked after hearing the man from earlier walk up the stairs. i quickly left the room and went into his bedroom. somehow it looked even whiter than the previous one. even more sadistically white. there was a little pulley attached to the ceiling, and with my curiosity, i pulled it, revealing a hidden staircase to an attis. this room should have been impossible to construct, especially with the way the house is designed. this part of the dream has started to be less vivid, and most of it i couldnt fully remember. i remember going into another room, which would be my room in real life. it had the same eeriness the previous ones held, however it felt somewhat comforting. the same coquette-ish furniture was placed, and another girl was sitting on the floor by the vanity, a younger one this time. once i saw her, i was caught by the man in glasses. i was then forced out of the house.

after leaving the house, i took one last look at this nightmarish sight, still feeling uncanny from my experience. nothing i saw was particularly frightening, but the vibes, the feeling that place gave me was, to say the least, the most horror ive ever felt asleep. somehow, i still miss that dream, and would wish to relieve it again. ive had dreams with a similar effect to this one, but not quite as good. I've heard songs that weirdly remind me of this dream, despite having different, if not opposite vibes. whenever i listen to these songs, it takes me back immediately. I've seen some pictures of liminal spaces that give me the same vibes, but nothing could top the eeriness of this nightmare. it gave me a certain hyperfixation of liminal spaces, dream core and backrooms. this dream had haunted the back of my mind for years, and only now have i found a way to give it some sort of closure. some way to let it go once and for all. it will probably still haunt me, but at least now ive let it out through words, and not through nightmares.

[lucysweatslove]

Hidden because (self/personal) body negativity which can be triggering for people.

So, I got connected with my preceptors + tonight we have an orientation meeting via zoom. This has all reminded me that a) my body has changed substantially since the last time I bought any clothes to look “professional,” and b) my body had changed substantially since the last time I even needed scrubs.

I have been thinking about how to dress my body etc to feel comfortable + look appropriate for the settings I’ll be in for clinicals. I have a kinda healthy-ish relationship with with my body on a normal day, mostly neutrality and I’m okay with that after like, my first decade of life being primed to hate my body, and the next decade and a half actively hating it, and only trying to embrace myself in a more neutral (since honestly positivity seems impossible) way for 5. So I was looking at Kibbe body typing and, being unable to figure it out, I decided to take a “chest height” picture and try on the clothes.

Note that I haven’t actually looked at myself in most of my clothing in a while, as since I started applying to school and Cold Weather hit, I’ve mostly been in loungr clothes. I’ve gained a bit of weight since last year and re-measured myself to get a couple good fitting bras. So I have two bras that fit well (36D4 which is like a F-H depending on the brand). My bust line is larger than that but because of my shape, these cups seem to work well.

Anyway I first took the picture and just. I couldn’t. I took it in a pair of leggings + a loose top, what I normally wear to the gym but I’m a bralette top instead of a sports bra, and I stood there as I saw the picture and just thought “I went out of the house looking like this!? I GO out of the house and into public at all like this?” And I try to deconstruct it- imagine in a different bra, with different clothing and different lines, and I couldn’t see myself in anything that looked even just okay.

I’m really trying to continue to see myself neutrally, but today is a very negative body image day, and it’s not so much my weight or size that triggers me as much as it is my weight distribution. I’m slightly more leggy than torso-y, which I think leggy is considered one of those stupid “beauty standards,” but at just under 5’4” this just translates to most jeans fitting my inseam and not me actually looking super leggy or tall. And that’s where anything “normal” or “ideal” ends.

I’m relatively short waisted, so my hip bones sit a little higher. My hips are also narrow. They do not collect weight. Sure, they “grow” in inches when I gain weight, but it’s slower and they don’t get a curved appearance. I have a larger bust, and I do get some weight gain there. And while I do gain a little flesh in the arms and thighs, my arms typically look a bit disproportionately thin compared to the rest of me. I mostly gain weight right at my midsection, only collecting a little bit in the rib/under bust but collecting a lot from waist to pelvis. I don’t have a very well defined waist and I never have. My whole midsection is WIDE and always has been, even at my lowest weight. I don’t mean just inches/size, but I have always LOOKED wider- like at a 26-27” waist I know I looked wider than that. Part of this might be the relative straightness of my lines, and like, no ass. I mean that. Idk HOW but apparently my weight collected mostly ABOVE the butt so it literally looks so flat.

And the bust… don’t get me wrong, I generally like them, but attempting to dress them in a modest way is so hard. A V often looks best on me, I’ve found, but finding work appropriate Vs are hard because my breasts sit up high and often get squished so cleavage is super noticeable and inexcusable. The new bras help with a separation, but many shirts still pull them and squeeze because they aren’t large enough in the bust. In in order to fit the bust still in a way that still gives some separation, the rest of the shirt is looser, which, with a shirt that has waist emphasis (ie not a box), looks really off. These waist emphasis shirts also typically hit at the wrong spot because of the short waist, or because of my larger breasts, the waist sits at the rib cage instead looking more empire waist and shortening my torso even more, which I think makes me look both childish and even frumpier in the mid section.

I’ve been having decent-ish luck with cropped jeans and boxier shirts, but it’s still not… right.

I know I will likely drop some weight this summer as I usually do- summer is when I hike more and gravitate towards more fruits like berries and just naturally I lose a bit. But, I don’t have time before I start at my clinic for this, I will have winter and spring clinicals too, AND I shouldn’t have to change my body to find clothes that fit and look professional and harmonious on me.

Also my body shape is nearly never representing in plus size fashion in general. It’s always flat-tummy (or slightly larger) and large asses and hips, which is also beautiful and should be represented as some plus size women obviously look like that… I just think the general message is “your body is so unattractive that if we showcased it, we couldn’t sell clothes.” And THAT makes me sad.

[cyborg-franky]

One Piece Character Wearing Lingerie For You Part 2

Part 2 The boys wearing sexy lingerie for you. Undercut is slightly perhaps N/SFW-ish images and defo horny writing . Art by @rosiinante headcannons by me!

Sanji - When you suggest it to the cook, he just grins at you. - “You assume I don’t always wear something under my clothes?” He said with a chuckle and untucked his dress shirt, showing you a little of the black lace. - “But if you want to see something a little spicier Swan, I can do that.” - Told to meet the chef late that night. - When you knocked on his door, told to come in you did just that. - You never expected Sanji to be posed on his bed like you were about to paint a picture of him. - The pink strappy number looked amazing on his skin. - The way Sanji looked you over, you must have looked stupid stood there with your mouth open before he nodded for you to join him. - He ran his fingertips over his body, each time he got to one of the straps he tugged at it and you watched how all the connecting ones dug into his flesh just a little. - You could tell the chef was feeling himself in this sexy number because the small pink panties weren’t enough to contain his cock. - His erection peeking over the lacy hem…

Law [preskip] - You always thought the man was kinkier than he seemed. - How he dressed in such normal clothes, the jeans and baggy sweater hid everything. - Seeing him now, sat on his chair dressed the way he was, well, it was a shock. - A very pleasant one at least. - “Too horny to put a thought together?” He chuckled, taunting you as you approached him when he beckoned you with one curled finger. - Black lace on tanned skin was intoxicating and driving you crazy. - You just wanted to run your hands all over him. - Law knew that’s exactly what was on your mind and beat you to it, running his own hands up and down his form, a wild smirk on his face. - You watched as inked hands went to his chest, tracing over his nipples, never breaking eye contact with you. - You couldn’t help yourself, you sat at his feet, hands running up his stocking-clad legs as he grinned down at you.

Corazon - He spat out the tea he had been drinking when you asked if he could wear something nice for you for your anniversary. - He wasn’t against it he was simply shocked. - He agreed, you even picked him something nice out. - He was self-conscious at first, his long, long legs completely exposed and showing off miles of scars. - You ran your hands up and down his legs, you kissed each scar as he sat on the bed with a blush on his face. - “They are part of you and just as beautiful.” You commented making your way up his legs, never missing a single scar, each getting a kiss. - Despite how embarrassed he seemed, his thick cock bulged against the sheer fabric of the panties and you glanced at him hungrily. - His nipples were stiff and pert from the cool air, the cutouts in the top part of the outfit doing nothing to help. “Your very handsome.” You commented as your hands found their way to his skirt, flipping the fabric up.

Sabo - He stared at the cards in his hand before the ones you’d laid down. The grin on your face spelt his doom. - “Another round?” He chuckled and saw you shake your head. - Sabo had been keen to get you into something embarrassing and was less than happy with how the tables had turned. - You were soon sat on his bed and waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. - “Come on, I at least picked a nice one and a matching hat” You called, getting bored, tapping your foot on the floor. - He peeked around the corner and saw you raise an eyebrow. - “Don’t laugh, I think it actually looks nice..” He mumbled. - “Just come on already.” - He stepped out and showed off his legs, you admired them, scars and all. - “You... wow... you do look good in that,” You said gawking at him. - The blue-suited him, the way it hugged his muscles was perfect. - He walked over to you and you could tell the compliment hand landed well. - His erection lifted the frilly skirt. - He was now grinning down at you as he stood over your lap, lifting said skirt and showing off his hard cock. - Oh, you both enjoyed this more than you thought…

[itsclydebitches]

Okay, I’ve been trying to pinpoint why Trent comes across as so damn soft in the S2E12 parking lost scene, beyond the obvious acting choices (heart eyes) and dialogue (“I love our chats”).

What I’ve realized is that - for me anyway - Trent is a character who initially comes across as so put together, so self-assured, that any change to how he presents himself feels like a pretty significant departure from where we started. More-so than, say, the already emotionally approachable Ted dressing down in sweats at home. Take a look at Trent Crimm, The Independent when he’s on the job:

Despite the cool “vibe” he’s got going on, he’s clearly leaning towards presenting as a professional. There’s almost always something paired with his blazer to up its formality just a bit: a collared shirt (image 2), a collared shirt alongside the less formal t-shirt (image 1), or a tie (image 3). Even when he’s not wearing a tie (image 1) the lanyards the press have provide the same basic shape and, of course, they are a mark of his function in this space: he’s a journalist. He’s a professional.

Alongside his clothes, in most of the press scenes Trent’s hair looks deliberately styled. He’s gotten rid of his natural part down the middle, his hair overall has a lot more volume, said volume has helped to spread the white out, and there are sections (particularly in image 3) that look like they’ve been dried and then had the wave put back into them. It’s a look that, as someone with curly hair that has never once listened to reason, makes me seethe. (Insert obvious reminder that actors have a whole team of stylists and we can’t compare ourselves to them here.)

Finally, Trent is a character who is constantly moving. If he’s not writing something down in his little notebook, he’s removing, fiddling with, or pointing with his glasses. This is a guy who just naturally uses whatever is in his hands to help make his point, while also being a man who ensures he always does have something in his hands, which makes any moment of stillness really stand out.

So now compare all that to this:

First, he’s only got a novelty t-shirt under the blazer, rather than the collar and/or tie/lanyard combo. It’s not the first time we’ve seen one of his tees, but notably the scenes before this also carry with them an air of informality: his potential date at the pub and his awkward little gesture/smile in the press room when Ted tells him to, “bring it on, baby!”

The blazer he’s in isn’t the mustard one we saw three-ish times at the beginning of season one (and it’s interesting how overall Trent’s style loosens up after he’s converted - for lack of a better word - by Ted in S1E3). His hair looks a lot flatter here. Which isn’t to say it looks bad (is that even possible?), just that it doesn’t appear to be styled in the same way as when he’s on the job. Less volume, less curl, a visible part, streak all in one section, hair tucked behind his ears... it feels like a low-maintenance weekend look, which is arguably more intimate. “This is what I look like after just a quick brush” vs. “This is what I look like after taking time to look my best.” Though it’s not visible for most of the scene, those cheetah print shoes are absolutely a choice - far more daring and individualized than the white sneakers he’s worn before. And, most interestingly, Trent does away with all of his usual tools. He doesn’t have his notebook out for obvious reasons. He starts out with his phone in hand, but chooses to put that away once Ted comes out. He also puts his glasses away, despite them being his go-to prop for most conversations. Here, Trent is completely relaxed and completely focused on Ted.

A lot of these subtle changes can obviously be chalked up to the fact that he isn’t a journalist anymore. There’s no need to do your hair and put on tie when you’re not going into work. But the fact that this conversation takes place while Trent is comparatively relaxed helps sell the feeling of them not just having any old chat, but one that’s a lot more personal and, perhaps, is the start of a closer relationship moving forward. As said at the start, the “Oh damn, this guy is besotted” feeling stems primarily from the really big stuff: flirty dialogue about his “vibe,” changing what he loves from “writing” to “our chats,” the fond smile, just straight up admitting that he blew up his career for Ted. But alongside that, I think Trent’s comparatively dressed-down getup and his unnaturally still (for him) approach to the conversation reinforces the idea that this is a man who is both comfortable in front of Ted and utterly enthralled with him. I think the depth of “I love our chats” isn’t just Trent enjoying the literal dialogue, but also the ease with which he can be himself in front of Ted. Trent doesn’t need the barrier of clothes and glasses fiddling to wheedle out a story because he’s not a journalist anymore, but he’s not a journalist in large part because Ted taught him to cherish something “deeper.” We saw this work all the way back in S1E3 when, in the face of Ted’s good nature, Trent found himself ditching his jacket, loosening his tie, and - with the help of some spice - giving in to a less than perfect presentation of himself.

That was a Trent who stumbled over his words, got caught with his mouth full, came to realize how badly he’d misjudged Ted... but Ted still loved spending time with him (“You really mean that, don’t you?”). Now, this is likewise a Trent who is kinda awkward in his speech, admits to stuff he can’t do, blows his own offer by locking his keys in his car. Trent Crimm: Independent is a far more humanized character than Trent Crimm, The Independent was, and that change is explicitly tied to his relationship with Ted. Embracing that part of himself speaks as much to Trent’s love for Ted (in whatever form that might look like) as straight up saying, “I love our chats” does. To me, those subtle changes basically say, “You helped make this version of me, Ted. Here he is! Hope you like what you’ve made.”

(and then Trent continues listening to Ted by taking the “follow your bliss” advice and literally following him out of the parking lot, thanks for coming to my TED talk.)

[anythingwriter]

The Doe Eyed Woman

Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: Nothing really, just swearing and my bad writing:)

Requested by: anonymous

Word count: 1,923 of pure trash

Summary: Grace doesn’t understand why Tommy won’t give her the time of the day, but when she sees a beautiful doe eyed woman comforting Tommy she’s even more confused. So she decides to ask Harry who the mysteriously beautiful woman is.

*******************************************************

Grace was having a hard time figuring out Thomas Shelby. She thought he was going to be easy to seduce, what more could he want? She was a beautiful woman who seemed to care about him. So why wouldn’t he even spare her a glance?

She had been working at the Garrison for weeks now, always making sure to push up her breast a little more than normal and look at Tommy like she wanted to pounce him when he walked through the doors, but when she was only receiving hungry and lustful stares from his brother John, she gave up. Was she not trying hard enough? Or was she trying too hard?

One day she dolled up extra nice, wearing a beautiful emerald dress, enough to catch eyes but nothing too extra. She was probably the only color Small Heath had to offer.

Walking into the Garrison that morning she knew it was going to be a busy day, judging by the line of men waiting outside the doors. Some of which she recognized from being regulars.

“Good morning Grace!”

“Mornin’ Mr.Harris,” she gave him the nicest smile she could, knowing he brought in a majority of Harry’s funds.

She went into the back after bidding Harry a good day, and put away her coat and such. She checked herself in the mirror, making sure everything was perfect before going to the bar and getting ready for business.

****************Time Skip***************

Later in the afternoon it had surprisingly calmed down, Grace was just refilling a glass here and there, having small talk with Harry, but then her moment of peace was broken.

Everyone could hear the yelling from outside, no doubt the Shelby brothers had gotten into something. The yells were full of harsh words and they were steadily getting louder, meaning they were coming closer.

Most the people in the bar decided to leave now while they could, not ready to face the wrath of the angry brothers. It was very clear they were not having a good day.

While the shouts were getting increasingly louder and more men scurried out, Grace double checked herself in the mirror, undoing a button or two from the top of her dress.

The three brothers and even their Aunt Polly stormed in, they all had fire behind their eyes. Tommy was looking the most pissed between the four of them. Maybe now was her chance to comfort him.

She looked up at him through her lashes, “would you like some whiskey, Mr.Shelby?”

He gave her a brief glance before nodding his head, and walked back towards the private booth.

Grace frowned a little, maybe today wasn’t her day after all. Surely he would break soon though, right? After all he was Thomas Shelby, he was a very closed off man. Just a little bit longer and she was sure he would break.

The rest of the Shelbys/Grays decided to follow Tommy’s lead into the back, all nodding to Grace to let her know they would like whiskey as well. As they were all entering the private booth, John was the last one in. Before he shut the door he turned and looked at Grace with a knowing look on his face, “nice dress, really matches your eyes love,” and winked before shutting the door. Grace blushed profusely, why wouldn’t Tommy compliment her?

After grabbing the whiskeys and heading towards the booth Grace heard the door to the bar opening, but she didn’t bother to look, too preoccupied with trying to get Tommys attention. She made sure she bent down low enough at the table for anyone to see down her shirt. Naturally Tommy didn’t look, but she could feel Johns eyes on her and sighed.

She was a little shocked when she walked out the booth to see a beautiful woman talking to Harry, she had never seen you around before.

After hearing the door to the room shut, you kindly ended your conversation with Harry and turned around to walk in. Grace was astonished by your beautiful doe eyes, they made you look so pure and innocent. At that moment Grace became a little self conscious of her own eyes, yours were absolutely breathtaking.

Walking towards the door to see your husband and family, Grace quickly stopped you saying you were not allowed to go in there.

“I’m so sorry miss, but the room is occupied at the moment and is for family only.” She said it like she was proud, keeping a treasure like you away from Tommy was probably a good thing, she couldn’t have the attention taken from her.

You looked at Grace for a moment, thinking she was joking. But when you realized she wasn’t you let out a chuckle.

Grace turned a little red in the face, why were you laughing? She said nothing funny. “I’m sorry, but who are you? You can’t go in there so stop laughing and go sit somewhere else!” She increasingly became frustrated as you began to laugh harder.

Harry did not look pleased at all.

“Look-“

Harry finally had enough, scared to let it go too far because he knew how Tommy acted when someone disrespected his wife. “Grace, she is fine. Let her through.”

Grace looked at Harry stunned and unwillingly moved to the side to allow you in. You turned and gave a great full smile to Harry before making your way toward the door. Before you got there you made sure to “accidentally” hit Graces shoulder for a little dramatic affect. You chuckled one more time at her flabbergasted face and shut the door behind you.

Grace turned to ask Harry a question, but he was already dealing with another customer. She would just ask him later then.

**************20-ish minutes later*************

Around five minutes ago Aunt Polly and the brothers had left, leaving you and Tommy in the private booth. You could tell he had a rough day, you could see it in his eyes. Oh how you could get lost in his eyes. You could look in them for hours feeling like you were drowning in the sea, and you told him too. He always says you’re being dramatic but then tells you how much he loves your eyes. Claims they’re like beauty he’s never seen before.

“Tommy,” you said softly. You didn’t want to disturb him, he seemed lost in his own world. When he didn’t acknowledge the calling of his name you took it upon yourself to move closer towards him. You carelessly swung your legs over his lap so you were straddling him, banging your knee on the table in the process. You silently cursed yourself, feeling the bruise forming already.

Tommy had finally focused his attention on you, laughing at your clumsiness. He sat down his whiskey and rubbed his hands up your thighs affectionately, smiling as your eyes met.

“You okay love?” He struggled to keep in his chuckles at your pained look. “Gotta’ be more careful baby, can’t have you marking up your beautiful body.”

You stared at him with the look, the one that made his heart swoon, your captivating doe eyes boring into his ocean blues.

“Well to be fair, Thomas, I wouldn’t have bruised myself if you paid attention to me,” you stopped and reached up to grab his face, forcing him to look at you, “ what’s going on in that big head of yours, eh love?”

Tommy sighed, deciding to let the insult you threw at him pass. “Just a busy day love, that Solomons is a bloody pain in my arse.”

You chuckled at this, knowing of his rocky relationship with the crazy London man. You liked him though, he seemed to be the only one to truly challenge Tommy. He kept him on his toes and you enjoyed their childlike banter. No one would think either of them were notorious gangsters if they saw the way they acted together.

“Give Alfie a break honey, I’m sure he says the same about you,” you giggle to a very annoyed Tommy.

“At least I’m tolerable, he’s like a rooster who crows at the arse crack of dawn,” he smiled when he heard your loud bark of laughter. He couldn’t help but join in himself. After moments of laughing together at the despair of Alfie Solomons, Tommy looked at you with a loving look on his face. He loved when you laughed like that, completely getting lost in the moment.

You looked up at Tommy too and smiled at him, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck before leaning in to give him a kiss. Tommy squeezed both your thighs tight, smiling into the kiss himself like a lovesick teenager.

*******************************************************

Unbeknownst to you and Tommy, Grace had seen everything through a crack in the side window. She was going to hand Tommy a drink through it, but stopped when she heard your giggles. She had yet to ask Harry who you were.

When she saw you on Tommy’s lap she was shocked, must be a whore she thought. But then she saw the look in Tommy’s eyes, a look she had never seen them portray before.

Love

Thomas Shelby was in love with whoever that woman was. Was this why she couldn’t get through to him? Were you the one clouding his judgement this whole time?

Looking through the crack one more time Grace quickly looked away when seeing you kissing. She may have been spying on him but she wasn’t a creep. Seeing that her suspicions were confirmed, Grace became even more curious as to who you were. The doe eyed woman was the one dancing through his mind all day, not Grace.

But just who were you?

Just as Grace was turning around she saw Harry making his way over.

“Harry!” She called waving down his attention. Harry cocked a brow before making his way over to the barmaid.

“Who is that woman in there with Tommy? The one you told me to let through earlier?”

Harry looked at her momentarily shocked, had she not known ? Surely everyone in Small Heath knew about the beauty that tamed the beast.

“That, in there is y/n Shelby. Tommy’s wife.”

Grace looked at him with wide eyes. Wife? He was married?

“Oh, I didn’t know he was married. How long have they been together?”

“Since before the war Grace, she’s always been by his side for as long as I can remember. Just know they’re happily married and to never be rude to her, woman or not Tommy will have your head. Now be a dear and go serve the man in the back, he’s been waiting for minutes.” And with that Harry walked off.

Grace stood there for moments in shock. Why hadn’t she known he was married?

As she was walking away to serve the man in the corner, she looked through the crack one last time.

There sitting in the booth was Tommy, with you snuggled into his chest while he adoringly rubbed your back. When she grabbed a refill for the man she realized something.

She was jealous of the doe eyed woman

*******************************************************

a/n: hope y’all liked it, have a great day sugars!❤️

@shadowfoxey

[chubbology]

Inertia

prompt: a man gains weight trying to get his ex-girlfriend back, but goes way too far and gets addicted to gaining

He hadn’t gone to the gym even once in ages.

After a year of singlehood, he wasn’t ashamed to admit anymore that he’d only really gone in the first place to impress women. Ironic, of course, since his ex had never been more than vaguely dissatisfied about his gym habit.

When they first started dating, he had love handles he hated and his thighs had been too thick. He assumed she dated him despite these flaws. Only after he lost weight to please her did he find out that it was his chub that caught her eye. It was bigger guys she was into. It was a lot of miscommunication. A lot of insecurity on his part, since what her preferences meant was that she wanted him to be a little heavy, and he couldn’t possibly accept that with his society-ingrained doctrines about attractiveness.

But those doctrines meant fuck-all now; he was eating a double cheeseburger in his car, helping it down with an orange soda, thinking about dessert. He was wondering if she’d be proud of him now that he’d gained thirty pounds. He wondered if she’d look at him with half-lidded eyes like she used to, if he put on another thirty. Fifty. Whatever.

His phone buzzes. He sits up straighter, belly swelling a little into his lap. It’s her.

Hey. My friend needs to sell her two tickets. I know it’s your favorite band. Interested?

The next text was a link to an information page about an upcoming concert. He’d been so disconnected lately, he hadn’t even heard about it.

Even though he wasn’t actually all that interested, he replied that he was, and they set a date to meet up the next week. Shit. He looked down at himself. If she were someone else, she might be repelled. But she wasn’t someone else…

He was hit with a brilliant, maybe brilliantly stupid, idea. It’s execution began with going right back through the drive thru.

In the days leading up to seeing his ex again, he ate almost constantly. Since he was only doing freelance online at the moment, his work didn’t get in the way of this. He let himself eat whatever he wanted, in amounts three times what his body craved. He pushed himself to a state of being constantly past full. She liked fat guys? Fine. Even if she still didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted her to see what he could have been, if he hadn’t been such a gym-rat douchebag. If he’d let himself become a lazy, docile boyfriend like she wanted instead, weak and overweight.

It was hard, gaining a lot of weight in a week. The number on the scale didn’t go up as much as he expected, even though he’d eaten enough calories to gain twenty pounds at least. He compensated by showing up to their meeting spot wearing clothes that tightly hugged his body, which now had a good forty-ish pounds of fat clinging to it. Looking in the mirror before he left, he’d almost seen what she was into. His ass had gotten kind of wide and dumpy, but in a sexy way?

He was all nerves when she showed up looking healthy and cute and indifferent about him, holding the tickets in her hands. Almost indifferent. She definitely gave him a once-over, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He could tell she bit the inside of her lip.

“Well,” she said, meeting his eyes fearlessly. Were her cheeks a little red, or was that wishful thinking? “I’ll see you.”

“Really?” he blurted. “Kinda miss hanging out.”

She smiled and turned to leave. “Maybe.”

He went home and binged hard.

*

In contrast to how he grew too slowly in the week before meeting up with her, in the weeks afterward, he gained weight doubletime. Fat rounded him out as easy as if he were a swiftly filling water balloon, engorging his thighs and belly and ass and hips wide and heavy. He ate compulsively as his appetite skyrocketed, as cravings crushed his will to restrain himself. His budget was thrown out of whack as he spent his savings on pantry loads of unhealthy food. His clothes stretched and seams snapped as he struggled to fit in his largest clothes. He shopped in the plus sized section first for comfort, then by necessity.

All the while he could only think: I wished she was watching.

He started imagining her with him. In the car as he ate fast food. At the store as he bought new clothes. Walking beside him as he forced himself to get exercise.

“Slow down, big guy.” “No, I think you need one size bigger.” “Sweating already? You’re so out of shape.”

Why did he like it? Imagining her mocking him? Teasing him? Eyeing his body, fleshy and overfed.

The next time she texted, it was late at night, and his eyes were glazed watching television, eating huge spoonfuls of that miracle drug called Nutella. His belly swelled out of his shirt. His breasts and face were puffy. According to the numbers he punched into Google, he had long crossed the threshold of obesity.

How was the concert?

He stared at the words. This was it. Maybe his only chance. He replied: Didn’t go after all. Been feeling off lately.

To his (very manly) delight, this prompted more questions, and it became clear she wanted a real conversation. Was she thinking of him? Missing him like he missed her? He thought out every response with the careful focus of a rocket scientist. He wasn’t going to mess this up.

He didn’t seem to, and they texted into the early hours of the morning, catching up. Finally, finally she asked to meet up with him again, and - feeling more eager, a little reckless - he tapped out a disclaimer. Or to her, hopefully: motivation.

Just so you aren’t shocked when you see me, I’ve put on weight since I bought those tickets from you. I’m not sensitive about it or anything, but it’s a lot. So here’s a fair warning.

He held his breath as he waited for her reply. Held his breath. Held it…

Oh. Really?

Like before, they set a time the following week. This time, to get coffee. No big deal.

He knew he had more than fulfilled his little scheme of putting on weight to catch her attention, and he could push the breaks now, but he felt helpless against his inertia. At this point, he’d cultivated half a dozen habits that had his weight steadily rising, and he couldn’t just turn them off. If he so much as thought of eating less, his whole body seized up in fearful anticipation and unhappiness, and he found himself cramming a couple moonpies into his mouth just to calm down.

He gained another six pounds between their text conversation and their coffee date. He felt so out of control, so out of shape, so out of line with the standards of popular society that he felt oddly…free. In a way, he felt free of anxious self-consciousness as he heaved himself out of his car and waved at her through the coffee shop window. She was sitting in a corner at a table for two. Despite his warning, she looked a little shocked.

When he sat down across from her, his huge ass hanging off the ends of the seat, she appeared to inhale deeply. Her expression was inscrutable.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said.

Blushing, he supposed he deserved a bit of tactlessness, for the tactless way he broke up with her. “What? Oh. Yeah, no. I wasn’t.”

She sipped her coffee, eyes flicking between his flabby chest and his flabby face. In a low tone that no one else would hear, she said, “What happened? For you to get fat as fuck.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. This wasn’t how he was expecting this to go. “Well. I’ve been working from home, stressed out. I let myself go and…” He trailed off when he realized her eyes were cold. No - so hot they seemed cold, like his shower water when turned to the highest setting.

“Is this because of me?” she asked, cutting to the chase. She crossed her legs, now openly surveying him. “Did you decide it was okay to gain a hundred pounds because you thought I’d be into it?”

He was speechless. He swallowed.

“Well? Do you want me back that badly? Ever since I saw you last time, all chubbed out, I’ve been thinking maybe I should give you a second chance.”

“Um.”

“But I don’t know…” She shrugged, but a smirk was hiding just behind that indifferent frown, and he wanted. He wanted her forgiveness, whatever that meant. “How about you gain a hundred more and we’ll go on a real date? Sound good? You’re not the only fat guy out there.”

She was full-on grinning now, and he missed her little games like this. He could play them, too.

“Maybe, but I bet I’m the only guy who’s gotten this fat for you,” he said. She was immediately affected by this, and he licked his lips. “You really want to wait to see me a hundred pounds bigger than this, or do you want to stick around to watch?”

Even quieter, she said, “You saying you like gaining weight? How convenient.”

So she still doubted him. He put out his hands for her to see. “Just look. Look at how fat my hands are. I can’t…” And finally his composure cracked a little. “I can’t stop. I couldn’t stop if I wanted. Even if you never talk to me again, I’m gonna gain weight.”

Any playfulness was gone now from her. She looked like she wanted him, too. “Hmm. Maybe we should go before you break that poor chair, huh?”

He blushed again. God, he was getting docile. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered. But she gave him a cruel grin. She hadn’t entirely forgiven him. “You will be.”

And he knew then: he was doomed. He was already a little bit into his own heaviness, and she was going to take that feeling and amplify it tenfold. She was going to enable every bad habit he had, watch him flounder under his increasing size and become weaker under layers and layers of fat until he could barely lift a two pound dumbbell.

He knew she wanted this to happen, and maybe he’d broken up with her before because he’d been afraid.

But he wasn’t anymore.

“Let’s go then,” he said.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 1

... I have no self-control do not perceive me

Marinette stared at the pile of bright red, yellow, and green clothes on the ground. It was all she’d done in the five-ish minutes since she’d portaled onto the scene. Just… stared.

It wasn’t like there was much else to do, anyways. Red Robin was currently beating the absolute fuck out of the person that had the audacity to disintegrate his brother right in front of him. It wasn’t like she could even fix it because the witch had been out cold before she had been able to pull Red Robin off to get a hit in so she could use her lucky charm.

So, she stared.

It was weird. She could almost feel a person inside the clothes but… maybe that was the residue or the ashes or whatever gets left behind when you zap a person out of existence? She didn’t really want to check, to be honest. Gross.

Eventually, though, she hesitantly leaned down and brushed her hand over it, trying to find the energy and get rid of it because it was really uncomfortable --.

… oh hell no that pile of clothes did not just fucking giggle at her.

She narrowed her eyes and carefully lifted up the bottom of the shirt, only to yelp and fall back. She scrabbled on the gross Gotham alley ground until her back hit Red Robin’s arm and he was forced to pause or risk hitting a meta (which would not have been good for his health).

“What?” He hissed.

She swallowed thickly. “That’s a child.”

“... what?” Red asked, all the anger bleeding from his tone in his confusion.

“We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby,” she whispered… then, it sunk in more. “We let Batman’s kid turn into a baby.”

He straightened on top of the thing that was really more bloody pulp than person at this point. “What do you mean ‘we let Batman’s kid turn into a baby’?”

But she didn’t really get a chance to answer because the baby chose that exact moment to be sick of being suffocated under all the armor and pushed it off.

Red Robin gulped. Because, yep, that was Robin as a baby. Batman was going to kill them.

Except he wasn’t going to kill them. Because Batman doesn't kill. No, Batman would find something even worse and that would suck.

The baby -- Robin? Should she still call him that mentally? -- giggled at their pain. Like an asshole.

They were so fucked.

~

He’d let B’s favorite kid get turned into a baby. Was there a way to get unadopted? Because if there was it was totally going to happen. Or maybe his dad would just cut him off because he was 19 now and could just get kicked out.

No. Nope! Not going to happen. No. He could fix this.

“Okay. Okay okay okay. We need a plan,” he heard himself saying.

Ladybug scoffed. “We? I was barely even here, this is on you.”

“Leave me alone to deal with this and I swear to god I will tell B that you did it.”

She paled. “You wouldn’t. No way.”

“Yes way. So, help me think of something.”

The baby giggled and started crawling over and both of them averted their eyes because, unfortunately, the child did not get baby clothes to go with his random transformation. Baby Damian didn't seem to care as he reached them and started climbing on Ladybug since she was closest. At least it wasn’t him. He did not want to see his adoptive brother’s… ew.

Ladybug made a gagging sound and then quickly summoned a lucky charm. She kept her face turned away as much as her neck would physically allow as she fumbled her way through swaddling the child in a polka-dotted blanket.

And then her shoulders slumped a little. “Great. Great. This is… great,” she muttered, picking up the bundle o’ baby.

He let himself look down now that it was safe.

“Alright, we need to go to another dimension where time moves faster,” Ladybug said after a few seconds. “And then we wait for him to age… fifteen-ish years. Best way to not make Batman notice.”

“... what about us? We also age.”

“Huh…? Oh. Right. You’re human.” She pulled off the glasses she was wearing and blinked a few times before handing it over. “Congrats on your upgrade. The tiny horse god is named Kaalki. She likes cake.”

“The tiny --?” He let out the world’s manliest screech as his eyes landed on the floating bug horse hybrid thing holy shit no no no no no the sci fi movies didn’t prepare him for this shit.

Kaalki looked a little offended but then her eyes landed on the baby and she gasped. “Aw, baby humans are always so cute.”

“Great, Kaalki, you take it,” said Ladybug.

Kaalki did try, to her credit. It just so happened that the approximately one-year-old baby was a lot bigger than the… whatever she was. Tim was refusing to believe that this was a god. Too many implications. He already had something to have a breakdown over, he didn’t need another thing right now, thank you very much.

Tim rested his head in his hands but he had more things to worry about than the blood that he was accidentally streaking through his hair.

“Okay. Okay. We can go to another dimension and try and raise him. Maybe we can make it have a ratio of one month here for every year there so any differences could be blamed on that.”

“Ya!” Said baby Damian. He probably didn’t actually know what was going on but he sure seemed excited so that was cool.

Ladybug sighed and nodded. “Great. You get food and money and clothes and I’ll take this lady to the cops… and I guess I’ll watch the kid until you get back because your dad cannot know.”

They shook on it.

~

This may be the dumbest idea that she’d ever had, and that was saying something. She didn’t know if she could trust Red Robin on this one, they hardly ever worked together. What if he just left her alone with this kid and let her try and figure this out on her own?

No. He wouldn’t do that. He was the last person known to be with Robin. Robin going missing would be bad for him, too. And, besides, she was pretty sure that he was a duty-driven person based on what she’d heard, she just had to hope that he saw this as his duty, too.

She turned the baby in her arms to get more comfortable as she waited for him to (hopefully) come back.

Part of her wanted to try and find someone from this world to reverse this but she didn’t know any outside of her, Adrien, Alix, and (now) Red Robin. Not on a personal level. Not enough that she knew for sure that they wouldn’t blab to Batman about it.

So, no, this is what she was doing.

But she had things to do. So, she pulled out her yoyo-phone-hybrid-thingy and wedged it against her ear.

“Chaton,” she said the moment he picked up. “You’re alone, right?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“Great. I, Ladybug, relinquish the Miracle Box and name Chat Noir the new guardian.”

“WHAT --?!” He didn’t get to finish as a box dropped on his lap and knocked the wind out of him.

“Just for, like, a year and a half. Sorry. Bye!”

“DON’T JUST ‘BYE’ ME WHAT THE --?!”

She hung up and closed the yoyo, hooking it back to her belt and ignoring it when it started buzzing again.

She looked down at Robin, who was squinting up at her. She returned the squint. Why was this baby so quiet? She didn’t get it. Surely, he should have been crying at this point.

“Do you still… remember things?” She asked, hoping against all hope that maybe he had retained his memories at the very least.

Robin smiled at her, but it was the blank-eyed baby smile that meant he wasn’t really understanding her. She bit down a curse.

Great. So, she’d not only gotten a baby but she’d gotten a fucking weird one. Great.

~

Tim left a note for his family saying that he, Damian, and Ladybug were bored and were going dimension hopping. His family would probably be suspicious but, hey, at least it wouldn’t be his problem for a good fifteen years on his end.

And, yeah, he knew this was probably one of his dumber plans but… it wasn’t the dumbest. And he was always one to commit when it came down to it. One time he had faked being shot and dealt with crutches for an entire year just to convince Vicki Vale that he wasn’t Red Robin. He had no fears that he couldn’t see this through.

Ladybug, though? A total mystery. She did nearly everything on a whim as far as he knew. She hopped from city to city fighting crime for absolutely no reason outside of boredom and made up all of her plans on the fly. No, he was a bit concerned about her ability to keep doing it.

So, he went as quickly as he possibly could. There was no rhyme or reason to what he was grabbing. He was just… putting stuff in there. There was money and three watches to help them move between dimensions, yes, but there was also a fanta orange and a copy of Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy and exactly seven pairs of socks.

… yeah, he had the necessities. Probably.

He nearly got out the door before he realized he was still in his crime-fighting gear and he quickly shucked it all off and tossed it into the tub so the blood wouldn’t track any more than it already had. He did not need to avoid Batman’s wrath only to end up on the receiving end of Alfred’s.

He pulled on the first hoodie and jeans he could grab and looked around to make sure he hadn’t left anything of importance.

Okay. Now he was ready to go.

~

Marinette was awkwardly bouncing the baby when Red Robin finally showed up.

… not that she would have recognized him if she hadn’t felt Kaalki hovering in his pocket. In her eyes, he was just a random white guy wearing shades in the middle of the night.

She glanced up at him and gave him an awkward smile.

“Ready?”

He smiled back and held out two watches. Neither fit baby Robin so she prepared herself to choke out a literal baby holy fuck what even was her life.

“Which dimension should we go to?”

“Preferably one without miraculi,” Marinette said. “I don’t want to know what happens if there’s two of the same god in a dimension.”

He nodded slowly. “Probably best if Batman doesn’t exist, either, he’d probably notice my existence.”

“... so… no heroes at all?”

“Looks like we’re going cold turkey,” Red Robin said in a tone that was probably supposed to be joking but just came out flat.

She pushed herself to her feet and waited as he scrolled through the millions of dimensions.

Finally, he came upon one and she added the coordinates to her and Robin’s watches.

She readied Robin’s watch against his neck and tried to ignore the kid’s sudden squirminess.

“3… 2… 1…”

They were gone in a whirl of blue light.

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Two people I know from my sports community have died in the last few days, both too young, still active, unexpected. I didn’t know either well. One was a ref that I hated, but not so much that I wanted him to die. He wasn’t one of the ones who creeped on young girls or harassed female coaches or engaged in financial corruption. His crimes were being biased in his calls, running tournaments with weird rule modifications that he liked any time he was the head official, and being a dick to any coach who questioned him. He’s actually the only ref who ever kicked me out of a corner, in the 15-ish years I’ve spent as a coach. He did it because I rolled my eyes after he yelled at my athlete for taking a drink of water after being called back for the second round, even though he only did it because he’d been called back way too early, because that ref clearly just wanted to get through the match fast and go have lunch. For years there’s been a rumour that one time, he gave out so many yellow cards for such tenuous reasons that they took his yellow cards away from him, so he took some scraps of paper and coloured them yellow, and just used those instead. I still don’t know if that one’s true.

The other guy who died coached another team from my sport in my own city. When he first showed up on the scene a few years ago, no one knew who he was, and we thought it was a joke that he believed he could make a new team that was competitive against us, as we’d been established for years and he had no credentials. But he showed up everyone who doubted him. He got good by watching videos and following the highest levels of our sport really closely, even if he’d never been there himself. Produced a few really good athletes who did give our team a run for our money, made the sport more competitive in our city and made us all better. I always respected him.

I wasn’t close with him or anything, but I was friendly with him at tournaments. One time I saw him breaking a silly rule at some tournament that says you can't wear a shirt with particular insignia on it, and assuming he just didn’t know the rule because he was new, I told him about it. I was just trying to be helpful and save him from getting in trouble, but I worried later that I’d probably come off as condescending. He always had a chip on his shoulder about being new and needing to prove himself. I liked him, but I think he thought I looked down on him. He was always nice to me anyway, though. Chatted with me at the tournament, and then again when we awkwardly ran into each other at the service station on the way home, every time because there’s only one place where it makes sense to stop on that journey. Once or twice I had a conversation with him that went a bit beyond small talk, about the landscape of the sport in our country and how we fit into it, and I tried not to seem like the looking-down-on-him person I think he thought I was.

One time I thought I saw one of his athletes in our provincial team gear, meaning he’d sent her away to be coached by our provincial coaches. Athletes who live in more population-centric areas of the province often fight for spots on that team, but where I am, we take pride in eschewing that and trying to beat the athletes who get picked for that sort of thing, to show we don’t need him. When I saw his athlete wearing it, I was surprised, and muttered, “Come on, [name of that team’s coach], have some self respect,” to my friend who was next to me. Then the athlete turned around, and I realized she wasn’t wearing the provincial team’s shirt at all, I’d made a mistake. Later that day, I saw her coach around, and out of curiosity, asked him if he’d had any of his athletes recruited by the provincial team. I knew that question would probably be taken as some sort of subtle jab, like he’d assume I was getting competitive about which of us had more kids recruited, but I genuinely wanted to know what he thought and I decided having my question misinterpreted was a risk worth taking. So I asked, and he laughed and said they recruited a couple but he told them no, and he wants nothing to do with them. He asked me the same question, and I said it’s a running joke that I’ve trained my athletes to take any letters they get from those recruiters, rip them up, and throw them in their front lawn. He said, “Yeah, I mean come on, do they think we have no self-respect?” And that day I decided I definitely fucking liked this guy.

I know he was losing it a little during lockdown, posting all these outlandish things about what we could do when it was over, things that he'd normally be smart enough to know would never work. Sometime in late 2020, I made a post on here about how I’ve decided I believe in amnesty for any weird shit people got on to during lockdowns, if it didn’t hurt people. The coach from another city that’s filling my Facebook feed with racist conspiracy theories about how Canada can’t trust its chief doctor because she’s Chinese-Canadian and therefore working for the people who created the virus? The guy who posted that shit even though he’s followed on Facebook by the several kids I coach who are of Chinese heritage and will see that? Yeah, I will need, at absolute fucking minimum, a public and very serious apology before we just let that be forgotten. But the guy who was just posting completely unfeasible ideas for ways to grow the sport? He’s instantly forgiven. That’s what I said in my post, automatic amnesty if the stuff you came up with during your breakdown doesn’t hurt people. When I finally see you again, I’ll do you the favour of pretending I never saw any of those posts. And I will feel very pleased that I chose to have my own breakdown on a social media platform that’s anonymous.

Well, I actually haven’t seen him since then, so now I’ll never get to do him the favour of having a conversation with him in which I don’t acknowledge all his weird posts. It’s just weird. I wasn’t close with either of them, but I did know them. I feel like I should feel something about them dying. Not devastated or anything. Not like last year, when the death in our sports community was of a good friend of mine. That absolutely fucked me up, knocked me on my back for several weeks during which I was unable to do anything but watch Simon Amstell shows and listen to Nirvana and cry a lot. But still, there should be something. It’s happened in pre-pandemic years that our community has had deaths of people I didn’t know well, and I’ve still felt sad about it. This week, I felt more emotion about Mock the Week ending than about the death of people I knew at least a bit.

This pandemic has done weird things to people.