#mentioned maria/michael

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

why does no one ever talk about how rapey the lis2 villains are

[seattlesellie]

Jealous. 🎀

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

cw: mean dom!ellie sub!reader, jealous kinda toxic ellie, eating it through the panties, orgasm denial, spit play (literally spits down ur panties like), exhibitionism, some dude named michael.

an: pls be gentle, i haven’t written in a long time! 💗 credit to angel gbc for the mod used in the picture above <3

something we can all agree on is the importance of aftercare — right?

Ellie is big on that obviously, as she should. Caressing her slim fingers down your body, planting wanton kisses on your shoulders, running her palms across your shaky thighs, whispering words of encouragement in your ear;

“Did so good for me, babe”

“I love you, so much”

“Need anything? hm?” She’d murmur against your skin whilst cradling your body from behind.

And she always insists on cleaning you up. She consistently renders you nothing but an achy mess, dried up juices staining your wobbly jelly thighs, combined sweat on your breasts and ribs, back of your neck. The ritual of bringing a wet towel to bed, swiping it’s fabric across your inner thighs, your face, your behind — is a sacred one for her. Not solely because she loves hearing your sweet, exhausted sighs of relief as she cleans the soil away, but also not solely because she gets to see your naked body in all of its glory again.

It’s the act of taking care of what’s hers. In a way, when she wipes your cum away, she’s taking care of herself — too.

Here, lays a solid proof that she can break things apart and put them back together again. She’s not a total fucking fuckup.

The ability of making you scream and cry, then moments later have you whisper in that saccharine voice of yours an airy “love you s’much, Els…”

It’s fucking exhilarating.

She loves it every time, she does it every time.

But today… today you pissed her off. You poked the bear, for real this time.

There’s this new Michael guy in Jackson. He’s handsome, tall, has coal black curls that somehow stay soft and shiny even in this apocalyptic hellscape. He told Ellie and you where he was from, what he did, why he came. Ellie didn’t listen to a thing he was saying. It was like he turned into a fly and started loudly buzzing in her ear. He kept looking at you weird. Smiling at you, smirking, laughing at your jokes, even the ones that weren’t all that funny. She knows you have this affect on people, that damn charm, hell — you have this affect on her.

And she’s usually just playfully jealous, manages to keep it relatively tame and simple by tightening her grip on your waist.

But you just wouldn’t stop bringing him up. “Michael” this, and “Michael” that, “Michael invited us for dinner”, “Michael said this funny thing earlier”,

For all Ellie knows Michael could die in a ditch and she wouldn’t give a fuck.

You're on your way back home from the Tipsy Bison on a chilly Thursday night. Jesse was there, Dina, Maria... and Michael. She thinks of his name and it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, tart, pungent.

"Meh, I'm more of a Tequila girl, Whiskey tastes like shit" you announced with a giggle. Michael rested his hand on your thigh, and agreed with a nod and a chuckle. For you, it meant nothing.

For Ellie, it meant everything.

Her blood pressure was usually low, steady, healthy as a bull. As of now, Ellie felt like she just ran a marathon. The blood rushed to her head and her brows furrowed without intention. She cracks her neck and moves it left and right, takes a long and burning sip out of her Whiskey and shuts her eyes. She repeats a mantra in her head; "I'm not angry, I'm not angry, It's fine."

But you're so damn intuitive.

"Els? y'tired?" you murmur towards your auburnette girlfriend. She suckles on her bottom lip and considers saying no, but she lies.

"Exhausted"

You leave the humble bar hand in hand, wrapped up in her big coat that smells of mint and wood and Ellie. She prays you won't mention his name, prays you could just go home and forget about this whole thing, but you do, innocently.

"Oh, Michael said one of the horses is sick, I'm thinking of helping out in the barn tomorrow an—"

She stops you mid sentence with a scoff and a tightening grip on your hand. "Oh, mhm, Michael said that?"

Her voice mocks your own a little.

You stop and shift your gaze towards Ellie who has her lips tucked in a tight line. Internally, she's cussing herself out. You don't deserve her anger, but she can't help herself. Your answer is an unsure hum. Her grip tightens even more, and it hurts your palm but you keep on walking side by side, quietly. Five minutes manage to pass with no words being muttered by no one. That's until she shakes her head and lets go of a husky chuckle.

"Did I do something?", you mutter doe eyed. Ellie stops in her tracks and inhales. She grabs you by your waist and walks towards you, making you have to clumsily pace backwards until your back meets a cold grey brick wall with a resounding thud. "Uhg!" You hiccup, breath catching down your throat. You even sweetly giggle, thinking in your head that this could possibly be just a sweet attack of PDA.

But her eyes are dark, gone from emerald to pine, pupils pitch black as big as a button. Her warm whiskey breath meets your nose and your top lip, you gulp. Why isn't she laughing? teasing?

"El?" your voice is still candied, always. Ellies mouth is agape, scarred eyebrows scrunched and furrowed as if she's confused, or pissed, or provoked. Her forehead meets yours so automatically, you attempt to connect your lips with a kiss but she backs away meanly. Albeit her taunting position, how intimidating and truly scary she looks whilst you're caged within her frame, your'e still smiling, you're still thinking she's just teasing.

You're not used to this, she knows, but god knows she yearns to teach you a lesson.

You don't fuck with what's hers.

She licks her bottom lip before she starts speaking.

"Take off your skirt"

Her voice nearly renders you drunk, It's huskiness, gruffness, it's depth, and really, you've only had one shot. Your cheeks heat up and your ears feel as if they're nearly burning. Her lips are so damn close to yours and she still won't let you kiss her.

"Wh... we're in public, we can't—" you stutter, eyes shifting downwards towards the knee she has shoved near your barely covered crotch. When she brings it upwards just to brush delicately on your inner thigh, you let go of a small gasp.

She responds to your gasp with a barely audible "Mhm?", her eyes sharpening with intent.

"Yes we can", she tsk's, and her voice taunts. Her eyes graze over your face, and you expect her next sentence to bite like the last one did, but her voice goes softer. "For me?", she cocks her head to the side.

And it simply pushes you over the edge.

You peel your skirt off of your body, asscheeks plastered over the brick wall as her body squeezes you further back, and you're left half naked with a piece of fabric scrunched below your knees, resting on your shoes. She eyes your body up and down, meeting your pleading and still confused eyes — and for a moment, thinks of just carrying you home and taking care of business once you get there. No jealousy, none of that.

But it's still bitter down her throat, and she can still picture his disgusting hand meeting your soft thigh, her soft thigh — as your body is hers, so that thought is ever so fleeting. It's either now or now.

Her cold as ice finger traces faint circles on your lower tummy, making the fine hairs of your body rise like soldiers. You whimper quietly as her finger snaps the elastic band of your panties and lets it smack down your pelvis. You rub your thighs together, but you're ever so pliant as she makes your legs spread wide with a boot covered foot opening up your calves like a gate.

She whispers in your ear. "Are you wet?", it makes you shiver.

"M'cold" you whine.

She scoffs.

She kneads your bra cup with her palm, squeezing an erect nipple with her thumb and middle finger. "Didn't ask that"

Her eyes meet your gaze and again she reconsiders this whole thing — because you truly look so needy, and your lips are so pouty and sweet and red with cold, you look as if you'd die if she didn't kiss you right now so how can she even be worried, let alone be jealous?

She knows how much you love her, how much you yearn for nobody but her, how her touch leaves you speechless time and time again.

But it's like something takes over, a dark figure, a figure that's thirsty and starving and wants to prove a thing it already knows.

It's an internal struggle, she doesn't want to be possessive,

She can't help it.

Your panties are striped with pink and white, and she looks at them as if they're the most expensive lace in the whole entire world. Her breathing gets heavier as she curls her fingers inside the cotton fabric, pupils darkening when she notices a sweet clear string of your arousal clinging from the entrance of your cunt to the bottom of your underwear.

She chuckles, followed by a sigh of relief that you notice. You are wet, right in the middle of the street where an innocent soul could catch you at any given moment. "Didn't answer cause you're shy?" She knows you so well. You bite your lip and nod, butterflies fighting in the pits of your stomach. A chaste kiss on the lips is all you get from her, and you deeply whine into the air. "At least kiss me!" you beg, — god, you're so cute when you're pissed.

Before landing on her knees, Ellie looks from side to side in order to check that there's truly nobody around, and no — not because she's scared to get caught, but because she'd die before she let someone see her girlfriend half naked with her skirt down her thighs.

Ellie is face to face with your quivering, pantie covered cunt. A wet patch greets her — a fuckin' pleasure, one she can't help but swipe her tongue across. Your choked up, terrified sound of a moan is a symphony to her hears, fuck Mozart. Her eager muscle of a tongue is so warm against your pussy you nearly forget it started snowing yesterday.

You buck your hips inwards, she groans. "No moving", she warns — simply to assert a dominance that has already been asserted. She kisses your little clit, coo's at the way it slightly pokes out of the fabric, erect and pumping on her tongue. "Ellie... Ellie... Ellie", you babble like a prayer, which she nods to. "S'my name, that's fuckin' right", she groans as her husky voice is muffled by your soaked panties.

"Ellie..." you repeat, thighs beginning to ache as you try and spread them further apart, almost sitting on her face.

Ellie, not Michael.

She smiles, greedy, triumphant.

She flicks her tongue on your clit, once, twice, three times before biting on your meaty pussy lips. You bite your knuckles in order to keep your voice down, but she glares up at you. "Do that again n'I swear to god I'm stopping" she growls.

You're not used to this side of her at all, but her voice makes your hole leak a small stream from deep inside. She feels it's wetness on her tongue, eyes closing in ecstasy as she audibly suckles your sweet, tangy, heavenly juices from the now sheer fabric. Her own spit runs down her chin, she doesn't even bother to wipe it off. All you can hear are your breathy, whiney moans, tiny begs of "take 'em off, please", regarding your panties, and Ellie's throaty groans. You're so wet from your own juices and her saliva it nearly gets uncomfortable, but then again you're so goddamn close to cumming.

You try taking matters to your own hands, attempting to peel off your panties from your waist with a shaky hand but she snarls and slaps your wrist away.

"Nuh uh, pussy's fuckin' mine, don't touch it"

With relentless sucking on your drenched clit, and soiled panties, she opens her eyes to merely glare at you again with a warning look. "When you're close, you let me know" she bites.

You don't respond.

A stinging slap meets your pussy, which makes your thighs shake, whole body jolt, and throat ache with a high pitched yelp.

"You're not listening" Ellie warns.

"You listen when I talk" she warns again. Her tongue meets your clit and it pushes it further and further up. You shake, eyesight gone blurry, you're close, you know it by the way the coil down your stomach threatens to snap, and by the way it tickles down there so damn bad.

"M'close" you brokenly wail.

She grunts deeply and stops completely. your heart nearly breaks, no no no no no. "Ellie, Ellie, Els, no!" You try and buck your hips forward but she holds you in place with an iron like grip. You buck them again and she peels off the fabric of your underwear, slightly rising up as she stares inside at the mess she made of you. There's a devilish smirk that creeps up from her lips, apple of one cheek rising. You let out a sigh of relief, thinking that perhaps she'll actually fucking eat you out properly instead of letting you suffer inside a warm, wet material of a mess that truly doesn't look like something wearable anymore. Instead, she audibly spits inside with a "Ptu'", letting the band snap shut. Her saliva mixes with your warm sleek. You're so confused she nearly feels bad, but she's such a cunt that she really doesn't.

"Were going back inside," she murmurs so casually as if she didn't just fuck you up in the middle of the street, as if her chin isn't shiny with your precum. "N'if Michael puts his hand on you again, I'm eating it in front of him"

[literalite]

supporting cast !!

heiya is lily's guardian, pernilla (mentioned ingame) is greg's mother, daniel is lily's boyfriend, maria (mentioned ingame) is kris' mother and current alpha of the pack, lorna is avelina's mother, michael is daniel's older brother, and jorge is avelina's father

[jungle-angel]

Home Again To The Sea (Hangman x Reader)

Summary: You and Jake never thought you'd have to see the day when his grandfather returned to the sea

Warnings: Mentions of death, war, religion, angst with a happy ending etc.

Tagging: @bradleybeachbabe I didn't wanna write this just yet but I figured I might as well

Pearl Harbor Memorial

Hawaii, November 11

It had been the toughest three weeks of your life.

And now it all led to here.

You never forgot the look on Jake's face when the VA hospital had called and told him that Grandpa Seresin had passed away in his sleep. Jake wasn't usually one to crack, but he had. He had been so close with his grandfather, the man having practically raised Jake and his siblings while his father had been on deployment and Jake's mother having to go with him. Jake's best memories had been with his grandfather on the ranch in Texas, walking the fence, learning the lost cowboy trades and of course his Navy graduation. You never forgot when Grandpa Seresin had stood there in his vest and baseball cap with all the patches, saluting his grandson who had just graduated from Top Gun.

You and Jake were saddened beyond words that Grandpa Seresin was no longer walking the earth, but deep down you were glad that he was in a much better place and with Jake's grandma again. The man had lived to be a hundred, something no one had expected due to the ungodly amount of cigarettes the man had smoked over the years.

You squeezed Jake's hand when his parents had pulled to a stop in the parking lot. "I don't know if I can do this," he croaked.

"You can," you told him. "It's what Grandpa Seresin would've wanted."

Jake sniffed away the tears, holding onto both your hand and the silver urn containing his grandfather's ashes. Already, so many people had arrived, Tom and Sarah Kazansky with their brood of kids and grandkids, Mav and Penny with Amelia and the boys. Rooster and the rest of the Daggers were there too along with Bob and Mary and the rest of the Floyd clan.

Val and Maria, your two little girls were eager and excited to see everyone despite the heaviness of the morning. You and Jake shook hands with all the higher ranking officers and people you knew. Cole and Natasha were both in the dress uniforms and their son Gabe in his best dress suit. Jake's brothers and sisters had all showed up with the nieces and nephews, his older brother Eric having gotten leave from Camp Pendleton to come and attend.

It was hard having to stand near the end of the dock while Father Sasigawa gave the short funeral mass, the urn sitting on top of the flag draped over the stand. Bob and Mary stood with you, Jake and the girls along with Jake's father, Michael, Joe Floyd, Tom Kazansky and Mav.

Michael, Joe, Ice and Mav stepped forward when Father Sasigawa had finished. The sound of TAPS being played close by, echoed across the harbor, a ghostly voice from the past having come back to haunt the grounds where the USS Arizona had once been docked. The four of them folded up the flag, corner to corner and edge to edge until it was perfectly folded into a triangle.

You and Jake were called forward before Mav handed him the flag, the two of them saluting each other with tears in their eyes. Jake completely broke, his shoulders shuddering as the memories of Grandpa Seresin flooded back to him.

Bob, Mary and Jake's brother Eric, helped Val and Maria carry the urn to the edge of the dock. All was silent until somewhere in the distance, a long bagpiper had begun to play "Amazing Grace", the music whispering in the breeze that rustled the palms and the waves that lapped at the dock. The guns fired in the distance with it, a final salute to Jake's grandfather.

"Bye bye gate gampy," Maria chirped, blowing a kiss and waving with her tiny little hand as the urn sank into the water.

And down to the sea he went, Grandpa Seresin joining his brothers he had once been so close with, some still enshrined behind the walls of rust and steel and where they would rest for many years to come.

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

The air was a bit more cheerful at the bar that night with hundreds of Navy families having gathered to celebrate Grandpa Seresin's life and the memories people had made over the years.

"Aw look at this one," Bob chuckled, holding up a rather embarrassing photo of Jake as a baby, his grandfather holding him up with a cigarette between his lips.

"That's Grampy for you," Jake laughed. "Cigarette in his hand and a drink in the other."

"Man sure loved his whiskey," Natasha half laughed.

"You have no idea," Jake told her.

All of them laughed when they found the photo of Grandpa Seresin as a young man in his Navy denim, once again with a cigarette in his mouth and both middle fingers held up for all the world to see. The bottom had been marked in fresh black ink, Leyte Gulf, October '44.

"Hey Nancy, is this one your dad?" Bob asked, showing the bartender the photo.

"AUE!" Nancy Kuakini gasped. "Yup that's him and Jake's grandpa alright! I dunno if it's in there but see if you can find the one where they got the tattoos, that ones hysterical."

As they sifted through the photo albums and through other memorabilia, Val came waddle running through the crowd and tugged on the sleeve of her father's dress blacks.

"Daddy Mommy says you gotta come quick," she told him.

Jake followed her right outside where you and Mary were both seated at the picnic table. It had grown dark, the waves crashing on the shores and the black field above dotted with stars. You breathed through the pain that tore through your body, but you weren't sure it was real or false pains just yet.

"Babes you good?" Jake asked, kneeling next to you.

"Oh God baby wants out," you groaned. "Yup.........yup he definitely wants out."

"Aw shit!" Jake blurted out. "Ok ok......gimme a sec and I'll go get the truck."

In no time at all, Jake was back with the truck and helping you in while Bob and Mary took care of Val and Maria. As soon as you had gotten to the Navy hospital and were wheeled in, Jake promptly sent a message to the Daggers, his parents and his siblings.

It didn't take long at all and by morning, John Michael Seresin had finally graced your family with his presence. The Daggers and everyone in your family could hardly stay away, wanting to come and visit and see the newest addition to the family. The girls were eager to step into their big sister roles and for a moment, you and Jake know that John Michael is a gift from Grandpa Seresin. And as you and Jake rest that night, you know deep down that Grandpa Seresin is still with you, watching over you all, just as he did all those years.

[jesuisgourde]

A list of all the books mentioned in Peter Doherty's journals (and in some interviews/lyrics, too)

Because I just made this list in answer to someone's question on a facebook group, I thought I may as well post it here.

-The Picture of Dorian Gray/The Ballad Of Reading Gaol/Salome/The Happy Prince/The Duchess of Padua, all by Oscar Wilde -The Thief's Journal/Our Lady Of The Flowers/Miracle Of The Rose, all by Jean Genet -A Diamond Guitar by Truman Capote -Mixed Essays by Matthew Arnold -Venus In Furs by Leopold Sacher-Masoch -The Ministry Of Fear by Graham Greene -Brighton Rock by Graham Green -A Season in Hell by Arthur Rimbaud -The Street Of Crocodiles (aka Cinnamon Shops) by Bruno Schulz -Opium: The Diary Of His Cure by Jean Cocteau -The Lost Weekend by Charles Jackson -Howl by Allen Ginsberg -Women In Love by DH Lawrence -The Tempest by William Shakespeare -Trilby by George du Maurier -The Vision Of Jean Genet by Richard Coe -"Literature And The Crisis" by Isaiah Berlin -Le Cid by Pierre Corneille -The Paris Peasant by Louis Aragon -Junky by William S Burroughs -Absolute Beginners by Colin MacInnes -Futz by Rochelle Owens -They Shoot Horses Don't They? by Horace McCoy -"An Inquiry On Love" by La revolution surrealiste magazine -Idea by Michael Drayton -"The Nymph's Reply to The Shepherd" by Sir Walter Raleigh -Hamlet by William Shakespeare -The Silver Shilling/The Old Church Bell/The Snail And The Rose Tree all by Hans Christian Andersen -120 Days Of Sodom by Marquis de Sade -Letters To A Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke -Poetics Of Space by Gaston Bachelard -In Favor Of The Sensitive Man and Other Essays by Anais Nin -La Batarde by Violette LeDuc -Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov -Intimate Journals by Charles Baudelaire -Juno And The Paycock by Sean O'Casey -England Is Mine by Michael Bracewell -"The Prelude" by William Wordsworth -Noise: The Political Economy of Music by Jacques Atalli -"Elm" by Sylvia Plath -"I am pleased with my sight..." by Rumi -She Stoops To Conquer by Oliver Goldsmith -Amphitryon by John Dryden -Oscar Wilde by Richard Ellman -The Song Of The South by James Rennell Rodd -In Her Praise by Robert Graves -"For That He Looked Not Upon Her" by George Gascoigne -"Order And Disorder" by Lucy Hutchinson -Man Crazy by Joyce Carol Oates -A Pictorial History Of Sex In The Movies by Jeremy Pascall and Clyde Jeavons -Anarchy State & Utopia by Robert Nozick -"Limbo" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge -Men In Love: Masculinity and Sexuality in the Eighteenth Century by George Haggerty

[arbitrary line break because tumble hates lists apparently]

-Crime And Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky -Innocent When You Dream: the Tom Waits Reader -"Identity Card" by Mahmoud Darwish -Ulysses by James Joyce -The Four Quartets poems by TS Eliot -Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare -A'Rebours/Against The Grain by Joris-Karl Huysmans -Prisoner Of Love by Jean Genet -Down And Out In Paris And London by George Orwell -The Man With The Golden Arm by Nelson Algren -Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates -"Epitaph To A Dog" by Lord Byron -Cocaine Nights by JG Ballard -"Not By Bread Alone" by James Terry White -Anecdotes Of The Late Samuel Johnson by Hester Thrale -"The Owl And The Pussycat" by Edward Lear -"Chevaux de bois" by Paul Verlaine -A Strong Song Tows Us: The Life of Basil Bunting by Richard Burton -Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes -The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri -The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling -The Man Who Would Be King by Rudyard Kipling -Ask The Dust by John Frante -On The Trans-Siberian Railways by Blaise Cendrars -The 39 Steps by John Buchan -The Overcoat by Nikolai Gogol -The Government Inspector by Nikolai Gogol -The Iliad by Homer -Heart Of Darkness by Joseph Conrad -The Volunteer by Shane O'Doherty -Twenty Love Poems and A Song Of Despair by Pablo Neruda -"May Banners" by Arthur Rimbaud -Literary Outlaw: The life and times of William S Burroughs by Ted Morgan -The Penguin Dorothy Parker -Smoke by William Faulkner -Hero And Leander by Christopher Marlowe -My Lady Nicotine by JM Barrie -All I Ever Wrote by Ronnie Barker -The Libertine by Stephen Jeffreys -On Murder Considered As One Of The Fine Arts by Thomas de Quincey -The Void Ratio by Shane Levene and Karolina Urbaniak -The Remains Of The Day by Kazuo Ishiguro -Dead Fingers Talk by William S Burroughs -The England's Dreaming Tapes by Jon Savage -London Underworld by Henry Mayhew

[the-modern-typewriter]

Can I ask for your book recommendations / your favourite reads?

I've done posts like this before, so for something a little different even though I'm probably still recommending the same books every time haha, have my favourite few books that I've read every year since 2017.

2017

A Darker Shade of Magic series by V.E Schwab

If We Were Villains by M.L Rio

Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn

2018

Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente

Six of Crows duology by Leigh Bardugo

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik

2019

The Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone by Olivia Laing

Normal People by Sally Rooney

Things We Say In The Dark by Kirsty Logan

2020

Girl, Serpent, Thorn by Melissa Bashardoust

Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson

In An Absent Dream by Seanan McGuire (part of her Wayward Children series, but a lot of them have a standalone novella vibe to them).

2021

In The Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado

The Invisible Life of Addie La Rue by V.E Schwab

A Spindle Splintered by Alix. E Harrow

These Violent Delights by Micah Nemerever

2022

Salt Slow by Julia Armfield

Dark Rise by C.S Pascat

Honourable mention to the podcast, The Magnus Archives, which I listened to instead of audiobooks for a significant chunk of the year and really enjoyed overall.

2023 (so far!)

Summer Sons by Lee Mandelo

Once Upon a Broken Heart trilogy by Stephanie Garber

Yellowface by R.F Kuang

In The Lives of Puppets by T.J Klune

The Wicker King by K.C Ancrum

Honourable pre-2017 mentions go to...

The Secret History by Donna Tart, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon and The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller.

[thorntopieces]

assorted pjo/hoo headcanons pt 2

part 1 - part 2

A popular one, but Percy grew up speaking Spanish with Sally. Once Gabe came into the picture it became something shameful and something to be hidden. In the same vein as him never talking about Gabe, he never gives any indication that he knows any Spanish, not even when people speak it around him

Annabeth and Percy 'adopt' Will. Annabeth the winter session following TLT, Percy and Annabeth together following the Battle of Manhattan. They don't properly parent him or anything, but they check in on him and help him come to terms with being Head Counsellor. At first Will thinks they do it only because he saved Annabeth's life, but no, they really just care about him that much

Something I will elaborate on in a different post: both Jason and Nico have DID (dissociative identity disorder), presenting in very different ways. Nico's alters are all him at varying ages, except for one introject of Bianca and one of Percy (that never fully front, they work internally or influence passively). It could very easily be confused for just very severe mood changes and PTSD. He's not really aware of it and considers himself to just be moody. Jason has a more 'typical' presentation in that the different alters have different names, genders, ages, roles. He becomes aware of it around the time of the Battle of the West Front/Mt Tam, and again learns about it following TLH. It is the only way to cope, caused by both of them being exposed to continuous and repeated trauma at a young age. Nico is aware that Jason has a thing, while Percy knows something is up with Nico. They both just lack the terminology to explain it well. This is one of the reasons why Nico and Jason quickly get along at Camp Jupiter before the kidnapping and then again following the encounter with Cupid

After starting to recover from dissolving into darkness, Nico slowly starts going back to school. He's too busy, too ill and too behind to go full-time, so instead he goes two days a week for core subjects at Goode. To do this he spends two nights a week at Sally and Paul's place. It helps give him some of the normalcy he so desperately needs. The rest of the week he spends at CHB doing various things (teach classes, infirmary work, head counsellor duties, therapy). Will goes to a different school in NYC during the week but they make plans for him to transfer after Christmas break

Will doesn't like crying because it literally hurts him. Whenever he cries it's like his eyes are on fire so instead of trying to figure out why that is, he will do anything in his power to not cry at all

Healing and medicine are two separate traits for Apollo kids to inherit. Lee could heal, but Michael was the one with the field medic skills and thus the one to mostly train Will. When Lee died, the infirmary went to Will because divine healing is prioritised above mortal medicine. Will's not special because he can heal, he's special because he can heal and has an innate talent for medicine. Combine that with the photo- and nosokinesis and he's technically inherited four separate skills, whereas most Apollo kids would only get two (basic good aim/vitals reading/minor powers of prophecy does not count, those are universal). He really is all of Apollo's best and none of his worst

In the Last Olympian it's mentioned that Hades met Maria di Angelo in Washington D.C, but in House of Hades that Nico and Bianca grew up in Venice. Headcanon that Bianca was born in Washington D.C in 1930 but shortly after being born Maria di Angelo moved back to Venice in hopes of escaping the worst of the Great Depression. This didn't work (the Great Depression hit Italy in 1931 and peaked in 1932), but by the time it got bad it was harder than ever to leave fascist Italy, especially through official channels - which they would have to do considering Nico's nonno was an Italian diplomat and fleeing would put him in danger. Nico was born in Venice and in 1939, less than a year after visiting Diocletian's Palace they were cleared to reunite with his grandparents in the States, avoiding the outbreak of WWII.

The reason why the conversation with Venus horrified her so much wasn't because she was upset about not being destined to be with Jason, it was because she interpreted 'no demigod shall heal your broken heart' as having to date someone fitting the criteria (not a demigod, powerful because she has power) and the only person she can think of is Octavian. She absolutely thought Venus told her she was doomed to date Octavian

Percy who is the demigod most similar to Jason in terms of wolf traits developed because they had the same amount of 'established identity' when arriving at the wolf house (young age vs amnesia). Percy who learns to be entirely certain of initiating physical affection without fear after being at the wolf house because he learns that even dangerous beings can be gentle. Percy who is scared of initiating physical contact because he saw how Gabe was and how demigods used to react to him knowing he was a son of the Big Three

[annisassintchaska]

Hi! sooo excited you’ve opened your requests, Can I ask one with Lewis and Senna or Schumacher!reader where you meet him at a party or sth like that..

Thanks

I Admire: Lewis Hamilton x Senna!Reader

News had been spreading around the paddock that the daughter of a legendary f1 driver was going to be visiting. Some thought of Nelson Piquet’s daughter Kelly, others thought of Michael Schumacher’s daughter Gina-Maria. The outcome was one that no one was ready for as the literal female version of the late legendary Ayrton Senna came walking through the paddock as her flat shoes were silent on the ground but sounded loud due to the silence. Everyone wasn’t just amazed but shocked as no one knew that Ayrton had a partner much less of a child.

The girl was quickly taken from the middle of the driveway and straight towards the Mercedes garage where she would be spending the day. Throughout her stay, she had met most of the team including Toto, Angela, Bono, Michael, Lewis and George to name a few. She walked around with everyone interacting by asking question and also giving answers. Yet unbeknownst to her, a certain man had become fascinated with her as he studied her posture, her features, her intelligence and kindness along with being polite, the way she would passionately answer questions about herself and the biggest part was how she handled standing before the spot that her father had crashed into and sadly passed away. She held herself together well as she viewed and analysed the area before she said a short prayer in her head, leaving the roses leaned against the wall.

The race had begun and everyone was at the edge of their seats cheering and encouraging the teams as they all navigated the track with grace. While some led the race, others unfortunately dnf’ed until the race had come to a slow finish.

It was now time for the driver’s post race interviews and Lewis was up next. “Lewis, you did an amazing job driving today. Congratulations on your podium but apart from that I would like to ask, how did it go when you met Senna’s daughter earlier?” The journalist quizzed as Lewis straightened himself at the mention of her. “Ah yes I got to meet her. So far I can say that she’s an amazing woman who has her priorities straight, I admire her in a lot of ways as just from hearing the stories she told me. I admire her for her hard work, her patience, kindness, determination, resilience, and the fact that she was able to open up and be vulnerable to me. It really made my day as she is the closest thing the my role model that I’ll ever meet.” He answered not revealing the fact that he also had a huge crush on the young woman but non the less shocking everyone around, including the fans watching as no one expected him to have that much to say.

Meanwhile back in the garage, Y/n was smiling as she took in the compliments that Lewis threw her way, glad to have met her role model after her dad and of course the man she had a silly little crush on cause let’s be honest, who doesn’t? From here on out, it looks like both Y/n and Lewis would be seen together very often. Maybe as friends or even more one day.

[catholic-character-tournament]

Semi-Finals - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Sister Michael

She drives a DeLorean. She does judo on Fridays. She likes a good statue and despises the French. Her full nun name is Sister George Michael, after the guy from Wham!. She is the fiercest nun you’ll ever come across and, if you’re attending Lady Immaculate College, she’s the woman in charge. So whatever you do, if you’re feeling anxious or worried or just need a chat: don’t come crying to her.

joined the nunnery for the free accommodation?

she does love a good statue it has to be said

She is the headmistress of a catholic school <3

sister michael so reminds me of the nuns who taught me. they're tough and sometimes a little harsher than a woman who dedicated her life to god should be but they're also wonderful people. i had a nun teacher who was 60 years old and would do handstands. another nun (also in her 60s) told me god was nonbinary. another was really mean and made me cry. (so did the handstand nun.) while the catholic girls school is The Catholic Experience, the school wouldn't have been the same for me or the derry girls without at least one nun who seemed to have sprung up out of the ground fully formed, ageless.

Shadow

In sonic destruction (the AI generated fan thing snapcube made a while ago) shadow was catholic or something which I think is reallyyyyyyy funny

Ok listen. I know this is a stretch but hear me out. He says “oh my God” in the Twitter takeovers so we know this is a possibility. I see him as a Christ-like figure because I saw his whole confrontation with Mephiles and was like “this is a thing that happened in the Bible??” and the pose Mephiles shows him in is literally like a crucifixion and Mephiles is meant to be a demon / false prophet reference. And also he’s called a demon in Shadow The Hedgehog 2005 then the guy who calls him that is like “I was wrong I’m sorry” and that also reminds me of a thing with Jesus in The Bible. But the biggest reason is his whole thing with Maria cause I think he’d come to earth and hear Ave Maria once and convert to Catholicism idk he’s like we’re comforted by a female familial figure named Mary sometimes called Maria?? And her color is blue????? Heck yeah I’m in because I Will Cry. Also feel free to share this as propaganda obv even if he doesn’t get in the bracket just. It’s funny.

I feel like he’d battle a lot with being seen or portrayed as a demon and how the aliens he’s related to very much look and act like demons idk lmao- and also I feel like confession would just be good for him I think he needs it for his mental health

There is a debate on the lovely website tunblr that Shadow T. Hedgehog is an allegory for Jesus Christ.

He is Jesus, idk what to tell you. He lived, he was sealed away, he was awakened again and deemed the ultimate lifeforms, he’s angry but not evil, does what he believes is best for people and the world at any given time. Total loser.

Vote for Shadow the Hedgehog

There seems to be some confusion in the notes. He is Catholic. It may not be explicit, but it can be inferred.

Shadow was created by Professor Gerald Robotnik, and for the early part of his life, lived with Gerald and his granddaughter, Maria Robotnik.

Robotnik is not a made-up name. Google Search results may only bring up pages related to the Robotniks of the Sonic the Hedgehog series, however, it is a rarely used Polish surname. Poland is a historically Catholic nation, and… come on. Maria is the most Catholic name ever. The Robotniks are Catholic. Shadow was created and raised by Catholics.

Now you may be wondering to yourself: Does Catholicism even exist in Sonic? The answer is yes, at least in the Archie comics, where Protestants are explicitly mentioned.

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Couple this with the fact that several characters, including Shadow, have canonically taken the Lord’s name in vain, it is reasonable to infer that Christianity, and therefore Catholicism, exists.

So… while Shadow’s own religious beliefs may not have been explicitly addressed… at minimum:

Catholic is a cultural designation that Shadow will always be allowed to claim based on the family that made him.

Whether he’d actually want to claim that designation is a different conversation, but the other propaganda does a fine job of explaining why it may be appropriate to headcanon him as a practicing Catholic.

Now that we’ve established that Shadow has as much of a right to be in this tournament as anyone else, there’s one very important reason you should vote for him:

It would be funny if he won.

Thank you.

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Essays are done!! Here’s some Shadow propaganda because the propaganda we currently have sucks and I need to fix that. While yes, Shadow being Catholic is a meme, there is more to outside of the simple “fandub said so” and its not quite stated its Catholicism but just how he behaves and his actions. There’s a lot of Sonic content so I will try to keep this brief. Gonna get headcanons out of the way.

Shadow is Chilean and so are Maria and Gerald Robotnik because I fucking say so and they’re Catholic. He definitely had un rosario next to his like. Bed or test tube whatever he slept in. So did Maria btw. Alright let’s move on because I am 100% correct.

Let’s start with some background for Shadow. Shadow was created as a cure for a girl called Maria and he grew to care for her as a sister and loved her deeply. He was artificially created but still holds a soul that is similar to Maria’s. Long story short, Maria is killed protecting Shadow who watches as she’s shot in front of him. He has his memories tampered by Maria’s grandfather, Gerald, who manipulates him into carrying out revenge on the Earth, even if Shadow ends up as collateral.

Shadow struggles with frequent identity crises, even before Maria’s death and always wondered what his purpose was, what he was made to do. Was he a weapon? Was he a cure? He’s the Ultimate Lifeform, but what does that truly mean? ? He’s Shadow, but what more is there to him? He doesn’t know what his purpose is other than what others have prescribed to him, and he guides himself through the will of others (something that he breaks through afterwards but not yet). Shadow at his core is self-sacrificing and constantly punishes himself. This is where you can see some of that good old guilt that everyone has been using as propaganda, but we also see someone who is giving and kind.

He is snarky in the game, especially when interacting with Sonic, but he’s having what is essentially an ongoing mental breakdown but keeps moving because it is his duty to his sister. He doesn’t believe himself important enough to continue on after her and sees it in himself to act out on “Maria’s wishes”. After the revelation that Maria’s final wish for Shadow was for him to make those on Earth happy and to protect them, he immediately sacrifices himself to do so.

Okay, that’s a lot and you’re probably asking “Okay, you mentioned he is a giving person and yeah he has guilt, but that’s not really Catholicism” and yes you would be right! So let’s go into the more important part of being Catholic. The charity, the community, the kindness, etc. Shadow is a very reserved person and has the habit of being a dumb teenager because well. Yeah. Anyways, he definitely has a soft spot for those he cares about and while his whole arc (in my opinion) is about finding the freedom of self-autonomy, it is also Shadow growing as a person and deciding not to save people because others have told him he needs to, but because he wants to. It is born from his soul and its his nature to care for people. It is who he is, and he knows it now. He’s not doing it because he’s a hero or because he is told to do so. Shadow is a very giving person and I think people tend to forget about that especially due to bad writing from the past decade or so. He is also stated to help out at food shelters and volunteers a lot. He is proud and a bit prickly, but he cares so deeply about those he loves. He is stronger with his loved ones and will always do his best to protect them. These are minor, yeah, but you don’t need sweeping and enormous acts to get attention for the good deeds you do. Most of what you apply of Catholicism is done at the personal level, between your friends, family, and community.He also goes to Mass whenever he can and if he can’t he goes to the capilla and also does the sign of the cross whenever he runs by a church. Cutting this off because this is already 740-ish words and I had to send these across multiple asks I am so sorry Catholic mod

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Beneath Miles of Stone - Part Twenty - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: kind of kidnapping if you squint ; mentions of death ; violence ; angst ; nsfw kudos to @scarlettspectra and @lilspookymeh for being music gurus and basically inspiring my entire writing playlist ❤️

“John, I can’t stay here - I have work, Michael.”

“It’s not up for debate.” 

She scowls at the way he talks to her like a petulant child, looks over at Winston for help and finds none.

“You can’t make me stay here,” she grits.

He fixes her with a dark, mean look, clears the distance between them in one stride, and grabs her before she can think about running. “I can make you stay, but I don’t want to have to do that.”

He’s really just springing this on her. Because the death of Maria puts a target on his back and therefore a smaller one on hers, John thinks the best solution is keeping her locked in the safe house that is Winston’s massive hotel. No consulting her, no talking about options. Just cut and dry. Do as I say. She’s offered alternative solutions, even - “I’ll walk around with Victor’s - sorry, Viggo’s - bodyguards at my side!” - because, of course, her having a private little secret service of her own is now unnegotiable, too. Imagine that.

“You don’t have to do anything,” she retorts, voice quiet despite her lionhearted words. 

“I’m not speaking in metaphors,” John says, “you’re staying here. Either way. I need you safe.”

She tries to tear her arm from his grip, but it’s like attempting to wrestle with a gorilla. “So what? I’m just supposed to stay locked up in your gilded cage and forget I have a life?”

He loosens his hold a little bit, lets her puffy flesh spring back from bruising, and softens, hard rock eyes turning molten. Still, there is fire involved. “You can hate me if you want. You don’t have to look at me or speak to me, but I’m responsible for your safety, now. I need you unharmed.”

Ah, there it is again, that fucking pang in her heart that leaves her whole being bloodless and aching when he reminds her why she’s ultimately here - pity. 

Sure, he’s told her otherwise a thousand times now, and his actions are testament to how much he wants her, but that admittance is all she needs to start thinking she’s a charity case again. 

Tears swell her eyes. 

She can’t believe they’ve gone from bliss to this in such a short amount of time. And now what? She’s trapped here and humiliated? Pitied? 

“No, I didn’t-“ 

“Yeah you did,” she whispers, looking down at the shiny dark floor, watching little tear droplets accumulate on its surface.

He lets her pull away and gathers every ounce of his willpower to avoid following as she walks out of the room and into the bustling hotel. 

“That went well,” Winston comments, flipping through the manila envelope of witness statements.

His knuckles ache to punch something. Marcus isright here, downing scotch like it’s his last day on earth - maybe he thinks it is - one little punch wouldn’t hurt him. 

More willpower used up to not hit Marcus. He decides to leave the room instead. 

Marcus thinks he did it. Winston might as well think so, too. The eight witnesses that put him at the location say he did. 

The only person that knows he didn’t do it - because he was instead with her when he supposedly took a round trip flight to El Paso and fixed a bullet into Maria’s skull - wants nothing to do with him when the only thing he wants is to curl up beside her and lament. 

He needs an outlet. 

———————————

“You need to call the police,” Michael tells her. His voice fades away for a minute while she hears rummaging in the background. 

“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble Michael. It’s not like I’m being tortured or something.” 

“And?” 

“It wouldn’t matter.” 

“I don’t know, they could probably come get you out of there?” 

“I don’t think cops come here, Michael. I don’t think they’re allowed to be here.”

He pauses for dramatic effect, probably. She’s glad she called him. His usual antics calm her. “They’re not allowed to tear gas peaceful protesters either, but….. ”

“No, I think they kill them here.” 

“Sneak out,” Michael concludes. 

“That’s my next bid.” 

“Damn, your pussy must be god tier if this man is kidnapping you, though.” 

She rolls her eyes. 

“What?! I’m just saying!” She hears the no good grin and it puts a smile on her face. 

“I don’t know how I’m gonna pay rent, Michael. I told work, but they’re probably going to fire me - if they even believe me - and then I won’t have income to pay my share-“

“ Are you serious?” Michael sighs. “You’ve just been kidnapped and you’re worried about me ? Babe, stop.”

“We made a deal Michael, and all I’ve done is fuck it up.” 

“Worry about getting out of there, and we’ll sort it out once you’re free of crazy boyfriend.”

“He’s not crazy,” she tries, “he’s just… worried.” 

“Uh-huh.” Michael takes another pause.  “Anyway, what is this place called?”

“You are not coming here, Michael. You’ll get hurt.” 

“Why? I’m not a cop.”

“Michael.”

“Right, right. You’re living the mystery novel life. Is it wrong that I’m a little jealous?” 

“No, I guess not. He just kind of makes it seem like he has to keep me here. I feel like a burden.”

“ You ? Feeling like a burden ?” The sharp sarcasm in his voice cuts. “Have you tried telling him that?”

“Well, no, but I’m scared.” 

Michael sighs. “Jesus, hun, I’m not sure what to tell you here. Sounds like he’s a little bit dysfunctional. Maybe he’s just not ready for a relationship. I mean, he has to know that holding you against your will isn’t okay.” 

She sighs back. It’s like their own little angsty language. “It’s not like I’m normal.” 

“Ah, so maybe the darkness in you calls to the darkness in him?” Michael sounds like he’s reciting breathy Shakespeare.

She laughs. 

——————-

The Continental is massive, shimmering, crystal chandeliers and intricate, antique carpets. 

Spotless, open, airy, a few delicate plants dotted about. Every room or hallway or lobby she enters feels too big - like she’s a kid again, tiny in proportion to everything else. Even the elevators gold and glimmer and loom.

Private clubs with massive polished oak doors to guard against entry, workers in perfectly tailored suits everywhere; one around each corner, in the bars and shops, diligent and watching. 

If she had any hope before of getting out of here, now she definitely doesn’t. Seems like every exit has an individual posted on it who would put Benny’s hulking mass to shame. 

She sees a woman who is taller than John, in a sleeveless tuxedo dress, muscles rippling over her shoulders and neck. She doesn’t think she has ever envied or admired someone so much. Despite the bodybuilder physique, this towering lady moves like flowing water. She just stares at her for a few minutes, entranced by the otherworldly beauty. How can he even think of liking her when women like this live and breathe? 

It’s easy to forget the outside world exists, here. But, she stills feels trapped - heralded off to some magical realm where everyone has a gun tucked under their shirt instead of a magic wand. 

She gets lost in the place, always expecting John to be waiting for her around corners or down a hallway. He’s not, though, instead leaving her alone like he said he would. That pisses her off and disappoints her a little bit; she wants him to follow her, fight for her, extinguish her flame of independence, which must mean there’s seriously something wrong here. He can’t just lock her up and then leave. 

Ignoring the empty John shaped space in her gut, she walks until she finds the library. Wall to wall shelves, rolling ladders carved in intricate, braided designs, a few cozy reading nooks. Librarian fantasy says hello. 

She scowls at the thought, goes to the fairytale section, lying to herself about thinking of John in this instance, too.

As chance would have it, someone she recognizes is here. The older woman from the bookstore in the mall, still sans reading glasses, squinting at the cover of a worn yellow hardback. 

“Do you need some help with that?” 

“Oh, my dear, nice to see you again.” There is an air of poise about this woman even in her shortcomings. She hands the book delicately to her rescuer, smiling softly. “Would you mind?” 

“Oh,” she thumbs the cover, feels the carved gold letters on the front. “This is Alice in Wonderland.” 

“Lewis Carroll?” 

“Yeah, I can tell you about this without even reading it.” She grins, cheeks puffing, pleased to have someone familiar here. 

The woman takes the book from her hands and sticks it back. “As interesting as Alice in Wonderland is, I’d much rather talk to you. You don’t belong here, do you? In a place like this?” 

She looks down at her feet. “Ah, no.” Really, she could pose the same question, but she finds herself unsurprised that nice stranger books in this hotel. Maybe it was the men in suits at her side. Maybe it’s because she’s used to this by now - fitting in nicely, snug as a bug in a rug. Meant for the underground. 

“So why are you here, dear?” 

They end up sitting in one of the lounges. She offers to go grab them both tea, paying for it and tipping despite hospitality, and then settles in to talk. This woman reminds of her of Winston, or like one of the kind, witty grandmothers from sparse foster homes. No matter how mean the rest of the family was, usually the elders were double kind to make up for it. 

She ends up telling her small things. Not too much, but more than she can Michael. This woman is already involved in the ancient crime world, so she feels like she can divulge more info. Plus, she’s confident that anyone here could just type her name into some imaginary database and bring up every detail about her, anyway. 

“Ah, John Wick, Boogeyman.” 

“People keep calling him that. I don’t think he’s that scary.” 

The woman laughs. “I don’t know, I’ve only heard. Never met.”

“Well, he’s actually nice,” she supplies, sipping her hibiscus tea. “Stubborn, but nice.”

“And he’s keeping you here to protect you, so he can’t be all bad.” 

“Yeah… we’ll go with that.” 

The woman laughs. “Oh, there is a fire in you. Misplaced, but a fire all the same.” 

“Misplaced?”

“You desire hardness, outer armor, to be strong, but you don’t realize that your true power comes from your softness.”

“I’m tougher than I look.” 

“I’ve no doubt.” Her contemplative eyes assess the cementing posture. 

“Sorry, I’m just. I’m irritated that I have to stay here.” She drops her shoulders, relaxes her jaw. 

“You’ve got a free spirit. You remind me of someone I once knew.”

“Was it you?” She smiles again. 

“Indeed. Unfortunately, this old bird had her wings clipped long ago.” 

“Your wings are massive and amazing, still.” 

The elder beams at her. “You know, my children think I’m out of my mind.”

“Huh? But you’re not.”

She shrugs. “They want my empire. I suppose I am getting older - should probably relinquish it sooner rather than later.” 

Just like with John, she feels that deep dive questions would be too forthcoming and intrusive here. “So, they’re making up stuff to get it? Sounds like your kids aren’t that great.” 

“Ah, but isn’t that my fault if they are not great, then?” She sighs and leans back into cushions that swallow her small frame. 

This is a hard question. She’s spent a lifetime blaming foster parents for fucking her up so much. 

“See? You can’t argue with that.” Her crinkled smile widens. 

“Mistakes are mistakes. The past doesn’t define the future. You do seem lovely now, regardless of what happened when they were kids.” 

“What do you do for work, my darling?”

“I’m a nurse.” 

——————————-

After talking for a long time with Ella, her mystery bookstore friend, she goes to knock on Winston’s study door, surprised she can even find it again. It takes a while, and she gets completely lost in the process. 

“Won’t find him in there. I think he’s downstairs. Do you need something?” She turns to find a tall, tattooed, beautiful woman folding linens onto a silver cart. 

“Oh, I just wanted to talk to him. Sorry.”

“You’re John’s girl?” She holds out a hand, gives a soft smile. “I’m a good friend of his.”

Why in the hell can’t she repress the jealousy raging inside her as she takes this absolutely gorgeous woman’s hand in her own? “Uh, yeah.” She resists asking how everyone seems to know what she looks like and who she belongs to. Maybe it’s just that distinguishable? John Wick with a fat girlfriend. 

Ouch . Back to hurting her own feelings again. 

“Oh, it’s really nice to meet you. A friend of John’s is a friend of mine. I’m a bell hop, trying to work my way up into bartender. They make more money.” She fixes her pile of cloth and then looks up as if forgetting something. “I’m Addie.” 

She’s at a loss for words, feels incredibly sheepish around this girl for no reason - exposed and open, ready for final judgement. Harrowing.

She introduces herself back despite trepidation and tries to give a warmer smile than she’s capable of right now. “Oh, that’s cool. You like bartending?” 

Addie laughs at some inside joke. “Oh, God no. Not in this city. But in the hotel, it’s great. Not many other bar owners will let you punch their customers for getting too handsy.”

She laughs. “Serves them right.” 

“I don’t mean to pry,” Addie smooths over a crisp sheet. “But how did you meet John?” 

Oh, the million dollar embarrassing question. “The prison. I was his nurse.” 

“Oh, that’s cute as hell.” Addie’s melodic giggle helps lower her raised haunches. “He hasn’t gone steady in a minute. I’m glad he’s happy. I’ve known him since we were kids, I mean, and he hasn’t been this sunshiny in a long time.”

Ah, another one of John Wick’s long time friends. “He’s a pretty good guy.” 

Addie nods. “Ah, we’re not passing the bechdel test.”

She chuckles. “You’re right.” 

“We will next time, promise. I gotta get back to work.” Addie gives her a wink and then she’s off. She calls back over her shoulder, “I’ll tell Winston you’re looking for him.”

“Thanks, but you don’t-“

“It’s fine.” Addie grins back. “He’s not busy.” 

—————————

She gets lost a few more times, maybe just maybe hoping for a tall, dark hero to come swoop her up and apologize. She’s more disappointed than she should be when that doesn’t happen. 

But, she does run into Charon again when she finds the front entrance. 

He gives her a small smile. “I trust you are finding the provisions here adequate, Miss?” 

She leans on his counter, emboldened by the lack of patrons in the lobby. “Could I ask you something?”

“Anything.” 

“I was in the library, and I saw the book with you in it. Behind the big glass display case, you know? You were in an orchestra in the pictures. Do you play… cello, right?”

“That’s correct. Well, was correct. I haven’t played in several years. Do you play?” 

“Ah, no.” She shrugs. “I just saw you in there and you looked amazing. Like really in your element.”

“Do I look.. out of my element now?” His head tilts, smile broadening.

“No, no, not at all.” Her eyebrows furrow. “Sorry, I just meant - you really looked like you loved it.”

“I did. It was exhilarating.” 

“Why don’t you do it anymore?” 

“I suppose I just got busy with other duties. I enjoy working at the hotel. The light of the stage was wonderful for a while, but I realized I was meant for a quieter fate. One with less excitement.”

“This is less excitement?” She gestures around. 

“Continental ground is sacred. We rarely have to take action against our guests for violence.” He pauses. “I know your experience has indicated otherwise.” 

She shakes her head. “Sorry, I didn’t-“

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” His pleasant smile still lingers as testament to that. “It’s alright to be curious. Ask me anything you want.”

She does. She asks who can stay here, who is not allowed to stay here, how long it’s been around, who built it. She asks him about the cello, if his hands got scarred, if he would play again at some point so she could come to his concert. 

Charon is infinitely interesting, sports the same dark humor that John does, and she chats with him until he gets customers. 

—————————

John stays gone. All day, all night. The more time goes by, the more anxious she gets. She should be angry, seething, but instead she just wants him to be okay, to come back to her. She’s grown so miserably attached to this elusive man, and the insanity that goes with that attachment is eating at her like swarms of locusts on fresh fields of grain.

—————————

He’s all bruised knuckles and blood flecked, sinew and tendon and vein. The smell of diesel and sweet liquor and heavy iron. She can’t help but peak at him from under the comforter while he undresses. 

“Good morning.” 

Of course he knows. He’s got sonic radar. She flushes, and doesn’t answer him. 

“I’d ask if you want to join me in the shower, but that would make me a bigger asshole.” 

“I don’t remember even saying you could stay in the same room as me anymore,” she grumbles, shifting under the blanket so a few of her toes peak from the end.

He resists tickling her. 

“You’re right. Let me take this shower, and I’ll book another one.”

“Are you rich?” She asks. 

“I have money.”

“Like, rich money?” 

He raises a dark eyebrow and looks far too good standing nude and bruised on the cold hardwood. 

“Does it matter?”

“I feel like you’re trying to buy me off.” 

He snorts, rubs a flexing hand down his abdomen and yawns. God, he’s fucking delectable. “Would it work?”

“Fuck you, John.” She tries to make her words hurt, but they’re half assed and weak.

He’s got a smile that makes her seethe and clench at once. Infuriating bastard. 

“Want me to fix that attitude with my tongue?” He offers, watches her toes curl up as she turns the other way and becomes a smaller mound under the covers. 

“I want you to go away.” 

He gives her credit for the control in her thickened voice. Saliva, always giving her away. 

“You got it.”

When the bathroom door shuts, she flings the blanket off and goes to get breakfast. For herself. 

Winston catches her in the dining room. “Do the clothes I sent up fit?” He asks. 

“Yeah, they do. Thank you. I appreciate it.” She looks distraught, out of element.

He hums and threads her arm with his, walking with her to the serving bar. “I’m sure he’ll take you to get your clothes and toiletries soon,” Winston promises. “I offered to have Charon escort you, but Johnathan seems to have faith in your ability to weasel away.” 

She huffs a laugh. “I’m not promising I wouldn’t try to escape.” 

“Are you angry with me?”

“No, I get it, he’s a bully.” 

“Ah, can’t say it’s entirely his fault. I’m concerned for your safety, too.” Winston sits with her as she orders cheesy eggs and toast and orange juice. 

“If he would have just explained it better, maybe I would have compromised.”

“Unless you know how to kill someone, I’m afraid there’s little compromise for you here.” Winston pauses, rubbing at the slick surface of the bar top. 

“I’m still mad at him.” She’s not sure why she feels so comfortable talking to Winston about her relationship problems, but the man is more than happy to chat and advise. 

“I can understand that. What can I do to make you feel better?” 

“Oh, no, Mr. Scott, you’ve already done so much. I’m sorry for being like this.” 

He smiles warmly, amusement cresting the crinkles of his face. 

Normally, she’s wary of being touched, but there is nothing except reassurance in Winston’s hand rested over hers. “My dear, you are human. Flesh and bone. Your feelings and emotions are your power, no matter how overwhelming they may become. Never forget that.” 

She feels a little like she has stepped from the mortal realm into fae territory. Everything shines and dazzles, wise figures give her hopeful advice, and there is a beautiful, inhuman man terrorizing her with a small grin from across the room.

She quickly looks away from John, and Winston of course notices the pick up in nerves. 

“Do you want me to kick him out?” He asks her. 

She giggles. “Will he leave?” 

“It’s worth a try.” 

Avoiding John Wick is kind of like being a moth who hates light. 

When he looks at her, she’s looking at him. And vice versa. She tries to eat, but feels too nervous to finish with coal eyes burning the endless fire in her belly, asks for a to go box and gulps the rest of her orange juice down. 

He watches her while she walks out, sipping his black coffee, unabashedly staring directly at her beautiful bottom. 

“I’ve thought about it,” Winston tells him, taking the seat across the table. “And I believe you.” 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” John asks. 

Winston ignores his sour mood. “Someone is trying to frame you, Johnathan. Someone wants you dead. With eight witnesses, the high table will come for you. Especially concerning the public knowledge that Maria put a bounty on your head. This is a war that ends one way.” 

“I know.” 

“So, do something.”

————————-

“I’m sorry.” 

She turns around to find him leaning into the door jam.

“I told you I wasn’t good at this.” He motions between them. “But that’s no excuse to be an asshole.”

“I’m not good at it either, in case you didn’t notice,” she replies dryly. 

“If you get hurt, I’m not sure what I’ll do,” he admits. 

“But I can’t live like a clipped bird, John. And you’re just so forceful about it. I can’t get a word in when your mind is set. Michael has been nothing but good to me, and now I’m bailing on him. I like my job. It makes me feel like I have a purpose.”

“It’s not forever, just until I can figure this out.”

“Is it really that dangerous? If it is why did we start this in the first place?” That kind of sounds like she regrets the relationship, so she doubles back. “Sorry, that’s a stupid question. I would gladly meet you again and again, even if it meant more hardship, John, but I can’t just leave my old life.” 

He gives a deep, baritone sigh, running hands through his damp hair. 

She gets a little waft of the delicious shampoo he used, and itches to go to him. 

“Just give me a day. One day. I’m going to fix this, and I need you to trust me.”

She eyes him, makes him feel vulnerable - raw - with the power of her stare.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” It sounds more like a plead than a demand, so she provides.

“Are you just doing this because you feel like you have to? Am I inconveniencing your life even more?” 

He looks at her for a very long time.

Then, pads over and tips her chin up with his fingers. “I live in a dangerous world. I’m scared to lose you in its chaos.” 

“But is it out of obligation or-“

“It’s because I need you.”

“You need me?”

He presses his forehead against her own. “Yes.” There is frustration in his voice.

She cradles the back of his head, inhaling spice and salt, quiet and still. Some kind of storm will rage and destroy her later, but for now she can keep it at bay while he is folding her up and pressing her into the bed. 

“This doesn’t solve anything,” she says, trying not to lose her resolve in the delicious wet of his mouth. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, lips trailing the sensitive bridge of her ear. 

She doesn’t. Lets him gather her hair back and lick behind her lobe, turn her into a quivering little mess of a human clinging to his sweatshirt. 

He can’t get enough of her in his mouth at once, uses his hands to make up for the loss, cups her tummy and groans at how soft she is. God, he could just sink right into her and never come out. 

“This is all I wanna do,” he says. “Every time I look at you, you just get more tempting. That cute little smile, pretty skin, soft little body. Who sent you here to destroy me?” 

“Th-the FBI.” She’s smiling that sunshine smile, animosity an afterthought, pulling at her new fixation which happens to be his velvet hair, rubbing her fingers into his scalp. 

His cock gives a little jump against her thigh, and he vibrates for her again. Ah, of course it’s the hair. 

“You like it when I play with your hair?” She asks, voice hitched high and tight as he sucks down her neck. 

“Yeah,” he admits. 

“I uh, yeah, l-like your hair, Johnny.” She sloppily threads a strand around her fingers, tugging just a little. 

And to think he was contemplating getting another buzz cut because of this mess always being in his face. Not now. Now he would never cut it again. Now it was his pride and fucking joy. 

He snakes his hands under her shirt, rubs at her bare tummy, pulls and feels and groans about how fucking pillowy she is - about how a bullet would probably just bounce right off of her. 

“Fuck, I love this,” he says, making her giggle and grab his fingers. 

“Tickles,” she tells him.

Immune to bullets, but not to soft fingers digging into her plump. He can’t help the hells grin while he indulges himself and makes her a giggly, frantic mess. “Where you going? Huh?” Chasing her up the bed, pressing her against the pillows, making her scream and curse his name. 

Only a little bit of fun, and then he’s kissing her ribs, pulling her bra up to let these beautiful tits flop in his face so he can nuzzle between them. Giggles into moans, the chant of her hips matching the rhythm of mewling sounds. 

“You’re so fuckin sweet.” 

Her hands make their way back to his hair.

Big cock pressing and grinding into her giving thigh, fingers running circles around her areolas to tease, mouth nipping at the tips of her breasts. 

He gets her begging, whining, needs her to ask him for it. 

“Pretty girl wants to cum on my tongue again, huh?”

“Yeah.” Little shimmering tears in her lashes, lips all puffy and big just like her nipples. 

“Tell me. Tell me, babydoll.” 

Flooding with hot embarrassment, biting her lip, trying not to crumble and break, she does her best for him, tries her hardest to make him happy. “John, make me cum. Please.”

It’s not good enough. “Ah, ah,” he scolds. “Make you cum on what?” 

“Y-your tongue. Want your tongue. Please, fuck.” 

“There you go.” And how could he ever fucking say no? 

How could he not spend a decade between these comfy thighs eating her sweet puffy cunt nice and slow. 

Fucking her on his fingers, tickling her little clit with his tongue and making her her hips spark up off the bed, giving her rug burn on top of rug burn while she pulls his hair and curses his wicked mouth. Sometimes it hurts, especially like now when she’s too drunk on his mouth to be careful or sweet - and he fucking loves it. 

He may never be able to convince her that he’s sorry with words, but he can still use his mouth to accomplish the same goal.

By the sounds of it, she, at least for now, forgives him.

[phoenix--flying]

The curse of the apollo cabin I want details, seriously it sounds too great to.

YEAHHHH!!!! everyone talks about the Cabin Nine curse but I like to think about the cabins I think were actually cursed by a god; Cabin Seven and Cabin Ten >:D

Cabin Ten is for another time so lets talk ab Cabin Seven!!

The reason for the curse is shaky, I like to think it came from Hades, perhaps over the Oracle and Maria. Maybe Apollo brings up the curse on his Oracle, gets into an argument with Hades that ends with the Apollo Cabin getting cursed. Hades couldn't hurt Apollo, but he could hurt his children!

What is the curse, exactly? It's against the Head Counselor of the Cabin! Specifically, the counselor is destined to die, no matter what they do, no matter how safe they are. They will die. It becomes more prominent during the Titan War with Lee Fletcher and Michael Yew dying just shy of a year apart, but nobody thinks anything of it. Its a war, people are bound to die, right?

If we wanna look at it as a curse in the same strand of the oracle, it could be lifted after Nico is accepted into camp, no longer ostracized.

To add some ✨ spice ✨ I have four head counselors before canon who died/went missing because of the curse >:D

Cecilia Ford, the Counselor ~1992-1996, she was seventeen when she died as a result of a plague that broke out in camp :) also wiped out the entire cabin but we don't talk ab that

Lilian Gray, the Counselor ~1998-2000, she was eighteen when she died during the final chariot race. The Apollo cabin mentions the last time they held the races resulted in three deaths, making it likely that at lest one of them was around for said chariot race. She was the fighter for her team, when she got thrown off her chariot she stabbed herself with her own arrow :)

Riley Wilson, the Counselor ~2000-2001, she was sixteen when she went missing during Capture the Flag alongside another camper. Nobody knows what happened to them (they stumbled across the Myrmekes hill)

Kyrene Dawson, the counselor ~2001-2004, she was twenty when she died during a hellhound attack. She was the first counselor in a while who actually managed to leave camp and died a few months after

also the irony of the current counselors bfs dad having cursed his cabin and technically being the cause of countless of his sibs death :D

anyway APOLLO CABIN CURSE LDNEUSHL

[lu15d4]

Kinda ordered

Shin Megami Tensei/Persona/Megaten fans, put some of your fav demons in the tags

[in-my-feels-probably]

Hello!! I would like to do a request for Carmen Berzatto.

Like imagine Carmy x introvert!shy!sunshine!florist!OC (I picture her like Emmy Rossum in TPOTO and with the name Maria, but at the end is your desicion)

Like she's a florist and works in a flower shop in front of the restaurant of Carmy, and he see her everyday and starts having a crush on her and everyone in the kitchen notice that and tell him to go to talk to her but he's really nervous and scared of being rejected. She also filled of flowers the funeral of Mikey as a "present?" for the family, even though she doesn't know them

Then one day she enters into The Beef and everyone tells Carmy to take her order and he's a ball of nerves

Then one day everyone from the kitchen are watching through the windows him asking her for a date

It can be series or just a one shot, whatever you like. Thank you!!

Good Fortune

Request: Hello!! I would like to do a request for Carmen Berzatto. Like imagine Carmy x introvert!shy!sunshine!florist!OC (I picture her like Emmy Rossum in TPOTO and with the name Maria, but at the end is your desicion) Like she's a florist and works in a flower shop in front of the restaurant of Carmy, and he see her everyday and starts having a crush on her and everyone in the kitchen notice that and tell him to go to talk to her but he's really nervous and scared of being rejected. She also filled of flowers the funeral of Mikey as a "present?" for the family, even though she doesn't know them Then one day she enters into The Beef and everyone tells Carmy to take her order and he's a ball of nerves Then one day everyone from the kitchen are watching through the windows him asking her for a date It can be series or just a one shot,  whatever you like. Thank you!!

Hi! This is my first time writing for Carmy! I do try and write as neutrally as I can, so I’m not gonna describe the reader physically that in detail, and I’m using “Y/N” since it’s an x reader, but you can picture whoever you’d like! Bear with me while I try to get the hang of Carmy’s character. I hope you enjoy it!

(Warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide, death, negative thoughts, insecurity, mentions of carmy’s trauma, let me know if i missed anything)

—

You met Michael for the first time when you were trying to unload a truck delivery to bring into the flower shop. 

You were the only person working that day, and of course it had to be the day shipments were delivered. Crates of potted flowers and plants had been dropped off at your front door, and you could barely lift most of them. By the time the last two were all that remained, your arms were aching and your back was making a sound it definitely shouldn’t have been making. 

Michael had been working across the street, and he could see you through the window. It was a slow day, and he figured it would be alright if he left his employees alone for a few minutes. 

He whistled, getting your attention before he ran across the street. “Need some help?”

You smiled at his kindness, but were a little wary of him. Quite a large man on a quiet street, and you were working alone. He seemed to understand your wariness, giving you a friendly smile. 

“Sorry, I’m Mikey,” he said, offering his hand for you to shake. “I own the Beef’s across the street, I saw you through the window. You looked like you can use some help.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, I can handle it—”

“I can see that,” he smiled. “But seriously, these two look heavy, and I spend most of my day here lifting heavy shit. I can help you out with these last two.” 

You finally relented, opening the door for him. He bent down and lifted the last two in each arm with ease, thanking you as he walked through the door. 

“You can put those right over here,” you pointed as you led him to a shelf in the back. “Thank you.”

“That’s no problem,” he nodded, brushing his hands off on his apron. “Does your boss really make you do all this on your own? Asshole.”

“They didn’t use to, but they changed delivery days from Friday to Tuesday. I’m normally scheduled on Tuesday’s, and lately I’ve been the only one on staff. I guess it’s my responsibility now.”

“That’s bullshit,” he said, making you laugh. “How about I come help you out on delivery days? Or I’ll send someone else from the shop, Lord knows it would help getting them off their asses every once in a while.”

You shook your head. “That’s too much trouble, I can’t let you do all that for free.”

“My Mother would skin me alive if she found out I was standing around without helping you out. Seriously, Tuesday’s are slow for us too, I’m just standing behind the counter doing fuck all anyways. And I am still afraid of my Ma, as any sane man would be. Please, let me help you out. For the sake of saving my skin.” 

You hesitated, but finally relented, giving him a grateful nod. “Fine. But you’re letting me give you something in return.”

You walked over to the crate on the back shelf, opening it up and pulling out a potted plant. 

“That crate you brought in, it’s full of Crassula Ovata. Commonly known as the Money Plant. It brings good fortune…and nobody ever fucking buys it. I don’t know why they keep ordering them. I end up taking them all home because I feel bad about letting them die here. Please, take one. I can bring another over whenever it starts to shrivel up.”

Mikey nodded, accepting the plant from you. “Thank you. I’ll see you next Tuesday, then. Come by the shop if you’re ever hungry, we’ve got the best sandwiches in town.”

“I just might have to take you up on that,” you smiled, thanking him again before he left. 

—

As promised, Michael stopped by every Tuesday to help you unload the deliveries. Every few weeks or so, he’d take a new plant from you, and occasionally ask about how to take care of it. 

You’d grin every time you could see it sitting in the windowsill when you looked across the street. 

For months, you carried on like that. And then one week, Michael didn’t come. The restaurant was closed for two days. You figured maybe he was sick, or on vacation. You didn’t think much of it. 

But on the Thursday of that week, Richie came over to introduce himself. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked stressed and overworked. 

“Do you work at Beef’s? I think I’ve seen you before. You’re Richie, right? Michael talked about you when he’d help me out.” 

“Yeah…yeah, that’s me. Listen, um…Mikey isn’t gonna be helping you out anymore.” 

You furrowed your brows, trying not to sound rude. “Can I ask why? He seemed alright with helping me out a week ago.”

Richie frowned, handing you a newspaper. He pointed to the obituary section, and you gasped when you saw Michael’s name and photo at the top. 

“He died Monday night. I don’t know what kind of arrangement you two had, but he isn’t here anymore. I came to tell you. I could send over one of my guys if you need the help—”

“No,” you interrupted, eyes wide. “No, he was more than enough help, I don’t want to trouble you anymore. I can handle it, it’s my job to do so anyways. I…I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

“Thanks,” he muttered. “No offense, but I don’t know how to take care of that fucking plant of yours he kept bringing in. And I don’t think I can watch it die, too, so would you come take it or something?”

“Of course! Do you want me to come get it now? I know you’re closed.”

“No,” he shook his head, moving back to the door. “I don’t have the key on me. I’ll bring it over when we reopen, I guess. Anywhere you want me to leave it?”

“I’m here most days, so you can leave it with me. If that’s too much trouble, you can leave it outside my door, or yours, whatever is easiest for you. I can come to you if that’s better.” 

Richie listened to you ramble about the plant, hearing the desperation in your voice. He had heard a lot of condolences in the last few days, but yours was the first one he actually believed was genuine. 

“You’re nice,” he muttered. “I can see why he liked you.”

You felt an ache in your chest at his words, and you knew your face had fallen when fresh tears welled in his eyes. 

Richie cleared his throat. “Uh, I don’t know where I’ll be. We’ll probably reopen on Tuesday or something. I’ll do something with the plant then. Thanks.”

And then he was out the door. 

You let out a deep sigh, unable to hold back your tears once Richie left. You looked back down at the newspaper in your hand, reading through the full obituary. 

“Michael Berzatto died on February 22, 2022. He committed suicide on the State Street Bridge, age 42. He would have been 43 this November. He was the owner of The Original Beef of Chicagoland. He is survived by his parents, as well as his sister Natalie, and his brother Carmen. He was loved by many, and will be deeply missed. His funeral arrangements are set for this Saturday amongst his close friends and family.”

Tears landed on the page before you could finish reading. 

Suicide? You knew it was stupid to think that you should have noticed the signs. Apparently, no one noticed the signs, or at least didn’t put the pieces together fast enough to stop him. 

Still, you berated yourself for not noticing anything. He seemed so happy around you, always chatty and smiling. He was such a good soul. You couldn’t believe he was gone. 

And his parents? His siblings? The restaurant? They were all expected to move on, past one of the worst things imaginable that could happen to a family. 

You looked over to the restaurant across the street, seeing all the lights turned off. Through the shuttered blinds, you could see the last plant you had given Mikey. You fought back your tears, willing yourself to be strong. You hardly knew him. There were people grieving who knew him far better than you, and you wished there was something you could do to dull their heartache. 

The information about the funeral said friends and family are welcome. But you couldn’t bring yourself to muster up the courage to go. It wasn’t your place. 

But you could do something for them. You could do something for him. 

That Saturday morning, fresh bouquets and plants were sent to the funeral home where Mikey would be. It was a closed casket, so you had an arrangement made to sit on top of his coffin. It wasn’t much, but it was something you could do for his family. 

You hoped it was beautiful. 

—

That Monday, you returned to work. Beef’s had yet to reopen, but a woman came rushing into the shop just minutes after you clocked in. 

“Are you Y/N?” She asked. 

You nodded, coming out from behind the counter. Suddenly, she pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tight. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, clutching the back of your shirt. “For the flowers. He would’ve loved them.”

You put it together that the woman hugging you was Tina. Mikey told lots of stories about here while he helped you around the shop. She sounded like a good person, but a person whose bad side you never wanted to be on. 

Yet here she was, holding you like you were her own child. 

“I’m so glad you liked them. It was the least I could do, after all he did for me.” 

—

The next day, the restaurant reopened. You watched through the windows as the employees returned to work, one by one going in. Everyone was familiar to you, at least vaguely. 

Except one. 

Later that day, Richie came by with the plant. You took it from him, and he followed you outside as you carefully placed it in the passenger seat of your car. 

“I thought you were going to throw it out.”

You turned around, quickly shaking your head. “Of course not! I never throw away my plants. You should see my apartment, it’s a fucking nightmare with how many I have. I just can’t seem to give them up.”

Richie grinned and nodded, moving to cross the street. Before he could go, you caught his shoulder. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. But who is that? I don’t recognize him,” you asked, pointing across the street. 

Richie turned to look, sighing. “That’s Carmen. Mikey’s little brother. Mikey left the fucking restaurant to him.”

You looked back over across the street. 

Carmy was handsome, that was for sure. He didn’t exactly look like his brother, but you supposed if they were next to each other, they may have looked more alike. He carried himself similarly. Except, he looked tired, and stressed beyond the level any man of his age should be. 

You wondered why Mikey had never mentioned him. The rest of his family, you had heard bits and pieces about. But Carmy? He was a mystery to you. 

“We should be up and running again soon. Do you want to grab something to eat? It’s on the house. For the flowers.”

You shook your head, giving him a grateful smile. “No, that’s alright, I don’t want to bother you while you’re getting adjusted. Maybe another time.”

Richie nodded, clapping your shoulder. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He moved to yell across the street, whistling at Carmy. “Cousin! Be a fucking gentlemen, say hello to the nice florist. She’s the one who sent the flowers.”

Carmy looked up, stopping in his tracks when he saw you looking back at him. You gave him a small smile, waving. He raised his hand in return, before heading inside. 

Richie scoffed. “That little shit didn’t even see them. He wasn’t at the funeral. Showed him a picture, though. He said they were nice.”

“That’s alright,” you said, reassuredly. “I’m glad he liked them.”

—

You kept Michael’s plant in your apartment. 

You took care of it better than any other plant you had, refusing to let it die. A plant like that can live for years and years if well taken care of. It was silly, but to you, you felt like the plant was an extension of Michael. You may have not been able to help him, but you could help his plant. 

And you would be damned if you did anything but save its life.

For the next few days, you arrived at work early. Carmy was usually already there, and you could see him walking around through the window. 

You tried not to watch him, but the shop was incredibly boring during slow days. Beef’s had plenty of slow days too, and you wondered how the business was doing without its previous owner. You wondered how Carmy was doing, filling in for his brother.

You had plenty of days to watch and figure it out.

—

The days went on, and days turned into weeks. 

Across the street, Carmy was shuffling around the kitchen. Richie clocked in, putting on his apron while Carmy started cleaning the grill. 

“Cousin! You wanna tell me why I keep catching you standing in front of the window like a fucking deer caught in the headlights?” 

“I think he’s washed those windows at least four times this week,” Marcus grinned, loading trays into the oven. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Carmy snapped, scraping away at the grill. Everyone laughed, continuing with their work. 

“Got a little crush, Jeff?”

“Want me to go over there and see if she feels the same?” Richie asked, and Carmy stopped what he was doing to look up, glaring. 

“Don’t start. All of you, don’t start.” 

“He is crushing!” Marcus grinned, coming over to wrap his arm around Carmy’s shoulders. “Look at him blush.”

Carmy groaned, shrugging Marcus off of him. “What are you, five years old? I’m not crushing.”

“He’s totally crushing,” Sydney said, not looking up from the vegetables she was chopping. 

Richie nodded, agreeing. “Come on, it’s not a big deal. She’s a pretty girl, it’s good to know that the dumbass culinary school of yours didn’t fuck up your taste. So, why don’t you go do something about it? Go over there, talk to her.”

“Nah, she's not looking at me. I’m too busy, anyways,” Carmy sniffed, completely avoiding everyone’s words as he continued to work. 

“I’ll gladly take over for you—“

“Cousin…drop it,” Carmy said stiffly, clenching his jaw. 

Richie nodded, putting his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, calm down. Jesus, she’s dodging a bullet with you, isn’t she?”

Carmy could hear everyone snicker, and he sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I’m gonna go smoke. You all better be acting like semi respectable adults when I get back.”

“Yes, Jeff,” Tina smirked. 

The second he was out of ear shot, everyone turned to each other, laughing. 

“He’s totally crushing.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

—

Carmy took his smoke break just outside the side door. You could see him from the window, pausing what you were doing to watch. 

He sat on the curb, staring off into the distance. 

It wasn’t like they were wrong. From the few times he had seen you close enough to get a good look, you were beautiful. There was no denying that.

But his track record with girls in the past didn’t exactly inspire confidence. He didn’t know how to talk to you. He didn’t understand why you would look at him, if you really were even looking at him at all. What did he have to offer you? Other than a rundown restaurant that he’s barely holding together, and a shit load of trauma he refused to acknowledge that quite literally wakes him up screaming. 

Why would you be interested in that? 

But then he heard a noise across the street, and he looked up to see you opening the door, carting the trash around the side of the building. When you came back around to the front, you saw him still sitting there on the curb, shifting his gaze back and forth from you to his feet. 

The final time he looked up, you were staring back at him, your eyes soft on his form. You gently smiled, waving, before going back into the shop. 

You internally berated yourself the second you rushed inside, leaning against the door. You couldn’t even muster a hello. Just a wave, and then you dashed inside. 

Idiot. 

Although, Carmy didn’t look weirded out by the interaction. He just watched you, with intrigue on his face. 

You decided that later that day on your lunch break, you’d finally take Richie up on that offer and eat at Beef’s. 

You had never actually been inside before. Michael had offered a few times to have you over, but you always politely declined, figuring it was too much trouble. When he died, you couldn’t bring yourself to go in. 

It felt like you’d be stepping into the home of a ghost. 

When Richie offered next, you thought he was just being polite, since you sent the flowers. He didn’t really mean it. But then again, he had offered more than once when you’d pass each other on the street heading into work. So, maybe he really did mean it. 

Either way, you were going to figure it out. Even though the idea of seeing Carmy up close and personal, and in his place of work, made you physically ill. 

You decided you shouldn’t go empty handed, and you picked out yet another Money Plant, acknowledging that you’d make the time to come check on it if nobody else could. 

When lunchtime hit, you mustered up the courage to grab the plant, march yourself across the street, open the door, and step inside. 

At the sound of the door, Richie turned your way, eyes widening. “Y/N? No fucking way. Look at you, you made it all the way across the street.”

“I did,” you smiled, placing the plant in the windowsill. “And I brought this. Don’t worry, I’ll come over and take care of it, if you’ll let me. Or I’ll teach you how. It’s a good luck charm. When this place is booming, you can credit me for it.”

Richie laughed, closing the register and motioning for you to come forward. “I just went on my break, but wait right here. I’ll send someone out for you.” 

You nodded, patiently waiting at the counter while Richie went through the doors and back into the kitchen. 

“Cousin!” You heard him call, and your heart dropped. “Customer! Get your ass out there, I'm going to smoke.”

“Heard!” Carmy called from the kitchen, and you debated bolting out the doors right then and there. 

But you weren’t quick enough, the doors opened, and Carmy came through them before you could get yourself to move. He stopped in his tracks as he saw you, eyes widening. 

“Hi.”

Your voice seemed to snap him out of his haze, and he quickly approached the counter. “Hey. Y/N, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you nervously smiled. “And you’re Carmen, right?”

“Yeah. But you can call me Carmy, if you want. Everyone back there does. Uh…what can I get you?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never actually eaten here.”

He let out a small laugh, pointing to the board above him. “This is the new menu. Well, newish. We’re still fixing it.”

You felt overwhelmed at all the options, finally tearing your eyes away from the board back towards him. Carmy was looking at you with soft eyes, nervously gripping the counter. 

You cleared your throat. “I’ll have whatever your favorite is. I trust you.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” he said, scrunching his nose up as he ran a nervous hand through his disheveled hair. He had clearly already done that a few times that morning.

“It shouldn’t be,” you said. “I’ve heard of you before. You know what you’re doing. Pick anything you like, I’m sure it’ll be good.”

“Alright,” he said, ringing you up. The second he was done, Richie peeked his head back through the door. 

“On the house, Carm. She’s earned it.”

“That was a quick smoke break, Richie,” you mused. 

“Well, what can I say? I’m more efficient than these morons back here,” he said, before turning to Carmy. “I’ll entertain her while you’re gone, go make her food.”

Carmy nodded, brushing past Richie before looking back over his shoulder to you. “Don’t listen to anything he says, I guarantee he’s lying.”

You laughed as the two began to squabble, smiling at their bickering. 

Within a few minutes, Carmy had returned with your food, handing it to you with a small smile. You nodded in thanks, telling him you’d see him later, before rushing back across the street so you could finally breathe again. 

“Cousin!” Richie grinned, high fiving Carmy. “You won her over. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I think I’m having a stroke,” Carmy groaned, walking back into the kitchen. “That was terrible.”

Tina cooed at him, squishing his cheeks between her palms. “It was a good effort, mi hijo. You’ll get her next time.”

Marcus and Sydney were in the corner together, snickering at his emotional turmoil. They couldn’t hold in their laughs, grinning at the flush that had crept up to Carmy’s cheeks.

“Fortunately for you, she seems just as enticed,” Sydney noted. 

Marcus agreed, nodding. “You’re line cook hot. Her type, apparently.”

Everyone else in the kitchen looked between each other as Carmy sulked all the way to his office, ignoring their teasing. Tina leaned over to Richie, lowering her voice. 

“What the fuck does ‘line cook hot’ mean?”

—

As promised, you returned in a few days on your lunch break to take care of the plant. You minded your business, hardly listening to the chatter you heard coming from the kitchen. 

“Hey, hon,” Richie called from the window, making you turn towards him. “How was your food?”

“It was good,” you smiled, turning back to the plant. “Good to see you haven’t killed this yet.”

“Marcus has a green thumb, apparently. Googled what to do. Between the two of you, that fucking plant is probably gonna outlive me.”

You laughed, finishing and coming to stand over by the counter. “It’s a surprisingly hard plant to kill.”

“I bet I could manage it,” he laughed, nodding back to the kitchen. “Give me a minute, someone wants to talk to you.”

You nodded, albeit nervously, remaining in front of the counter. You rocked back and forth on your heels, straining to listen to bits and pieces of the conversation in the kitchens. It was hard to decipher who’s voice was whose.

“Just do it, Jeff! Man up.”

“She won’t say no, look at the way she smiles at you.”

“If you don’t do it, I will for you. That’s a promise, cousin.”

That seemed to be enough to light a spark in Carmy. “Richie, shut the fuck up. Everyone, shut the fuck up. I’ll fire you all if you embarrass me.”

“Jeff? Even me?” Tina asked in a voice that made you stifle your laughter. 

You heard footsteps shuffle, shouts from multiple voices, and then a loud smack. You furrowed your brows in confusion, unable to decipher what was happening. 

“What the fuck!” Richie exclaimed. “That’s my chopping arm.”

“Shut up,” Carmy spoke through clenched teeth. “Shut up. I’ll go, but you’re all staying in here. I swear to God, if I see a single one of you out there—“

“Yeah, yeah. Go!”

There was more shuffling, and finally, Carmy broke through the door. He stumbled to a stop on the opposite side of the counter from you.

“Hi,” you smiled, tapping your fingers on the counter. “Did I just hear your slap Richie?”

Carmy nodded, letting out a laugh. “Uh…yeah. He deserved it, though, I promise.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Carmy looked at you with soft eyes, a small smile on his face. It was quiet a moment before he shook his head, clearing his throat. 

“So…would, uh…would you maybe wanna go out sometime? You know, somewhere other than the restaurant or the flower shop one hundred feet across the street from each other?”

“Like, away from the people currently staring through the window at us right now?” You asked, glancing over at the faces peering from the kitchen.

As you both turned to face them, their heads quickly dropped from the window. You heard them scramble for their work stations, coming up with random conversations to pretend like they weren’t just watching and listening to your every word. 

Carmy stifled a groan, clenching his jaw at the sight. His cheeks flushed a rosy pink. 

You laughed, turning his attention back to you. “It’s alright, I don’t mind. It’s sweet they care.”

“Yeah, they care,” he mused, nodding. “Enough to want me to die of embarrassment.”

With a bolt of courage, you laid your hand on top of his, giving it a squeeze. “You’ll just have to take me somewhere they’re not, then. If that’s alright with you?”

Carmy smiled, a genuine smile. “Yeah, that’s definitely alright with me.”

Suddenly, a chorus of cheers erupted from the kitchen. Half of them high fived each other at their stations, while the other half came bursting through the doors. 

Richie came over to you, squeezing you around the waist as he picked you up. “Yes! Way to go, Y/N.”

“You had it in you after all,” Tina grinned, patting Carmy on the chest. 

“Jesus, get back in the kitchen, both of you. Tell the others to calm the fuck down, it wasn’t a marriage proposal. They’re gonna break something back there.”

Tina finally relented, coming around the corner to grab Richie before pushing him back through the doors to the kitchen. 

You smiled fondly at them, before turning back to Carmy. “They’re enthusiastic.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, leaning his shoulder against yours as he watched them continue to celebrate through the window. “But they kick my ass into gear when I need them to. Worked in my favor this time, didn’t it?”

You nodded, trying and failing to fight the heat rushing to your face. 

“It worked in mine, too.”

—

A/N - Hi! Got a bit carried away with this one. I hope you enjoyed it, though. I don’t completely love the outcome, but it was my first try with his character, so hopefully I did alright. Let me know what you think!

[aspookycrow]

Regarding tmagp 22 - Mixed Signals, I see folks saying without hesitation this was jmart in the brain and like

all theories are valid at this stage, but to be frank that was not my read at all. My initial thoughts were this presence was an outer god, (possibly relatively a young one) pulled here against its will and finding itself separate from its flock. The "we" portion, a representation of its perception of its component parts that we have tried to separate historically, but Jonah saw through. "Come to us in your fullness", the successful ritual summoning its whole, but the ritual was short of being a complete picture because it interpreted the Being feeding on our fear as unique or adult or however you want to put it, and the conceptualization was agnostic of the system/other entities that It might now be separated from.

The cosmic horror is tastier to me this way, that by the very same mechanism that allows It to feed on us (our minds and our ability to perceive being akin the little silver circle you puncture in a capri sun bag), through fostering that link we ripped this thing through time and reality to here where it is present in its wholeness, but now itself is horrified.

Such a stomach turning reversal, the servants/avatars/externals of the web tricking themselves, almost hallucinating that their actions were a representation of It's own volition to come here. It brings to mind the mention of beings like Michael being a flailing nerve, unsure of their own purpose. Why should we think the spider was any more clever or right? Because the humans following it think they were?

In any case, the events of tmagp 22 puts me in mind of Bloodborne yet again, with creatures like the Brain of Mensis being dragged to and trapped in realm by Micolash, Host of the Nightmare. A being that inflicts a frenzy just to gaze upon it, and it hangs there pinned and strung up to a tower by massive nails by those who summoned it, and yet it is also sympathetic to communication.

Forgive me for getting too Bloodborney on main yet again (actually, scratch that - you're welcome) but I think in tmagp, jmart works for me in the fiction a lot like Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower does. Someone who was there for the beachside dissection of Kos, who bore an overwhelming guilt for the Orphan of Kos's circumstances. Someone who worked in the research labs, but also on the ground as a hunter who pursued them manually. And now, she lays in a state of perpetual almost-suicide, acting as both bulwark and watchtower for The Secret Guilt of those old hunters, whose actions unleashed this curse.

In any case, that man got FLCL'd (lol, lmao) and I'm excited to hear more.

[justlightlysedated]

Any chance that you go back to writing the Malex secret marriage fic that you have mentioned sometime ago? I love your rnm stories! ❤️

Hi! Hello! Yes! I am actually currently writing to this fic. I had finished it, but then, decided to change some scenes around, and then added some more scenes that I had previously scrapped, so I'm in the process of writing the new scenes! We are currently at just over 21k words!

But here! A sneak peek!

"Hey, kid!" Sanders calls out in a way that shouldn't scare Alex but does. He never realizes just how relaxed he is in Michael's space until something catches him off guard in a way that would never happen anywhere else.

Alex snaps his phone shut and turns to look at Sanders who is looking at the layout of Alex's surprise anniversary breakfast with something that looks like pride, but then he turns his gaze to Alex and gets all serious.

Alex knows what he's going to say before he says it.

"Sorry to tell you this, but I just got a call from the Sheriff's Office and your husband is in the drunk tank."

That's when Alex realizes all of the mistakes that lead them to this moment.

He sighs, rubbing one hand across his face, "I'll take care of it."

Sanders nods, and looks back down at the table, "I'll keep an eye on all of this."

"Thanks," Alex says gratefully as he stands and heads towards Michael's truck, which had been parked right next to the airstream Michael had recently purchased and had been the reason that Alex had been sure that Michael was just sleeping earlier when he'd been getting everything ready.

It doesn't take him long to get to the Sheriff's Office, since it's still pretty early.

Alex parks across the road, and feels the sleepless night getting to him.

He'd been planning on having a nap after breakfast, and he knows that he's got no one to blame but himself for how this all turned out, but he thinks he's allowed to be grumpy about all of this.

Deputy Valenti eyes him with curiosity as he pays for Michael's bail, but doesn't ask him what he's doing there or if his dad knew he was in town.

She goes through a door leaving it open, and Alex breathes out carefully, turning towards the glass windows and looking out.

He hadn't really been planning on having anyone except Michael and Sanders know that he was back in town. He wasn't even planning on telling Maria, even though he'd promised her he'd come and visit.

He wasn't going to be here long. He had only three days and he wants to fill them up with as much time with Michael as possible.

He feels a prickle across the back of his neck and turns around and there is Max Evans, one half of the reason that Michael refuses to leave Roswell.

Alex frowns but walks towards the counter as Max looks at him like he's a hallucination. Alex thinks that he should be the one thinking that he's hallucinating. Geeky Max Evans turned cop. He knows there has to be a story there. But he's neither curious or interested at the moment.

"What are you doing here?" Max blurts out, making a face like he hadn't meant to say that.

"Bailing my husband out of jail," Alex says as flatly and matter of fact as he can manage.

Max blinks at him like Alex hit him with a bat across the back of his head, dazed and confused.

"Your husband?" he asks like he's hoping he heard Alex wrong.

"Yeah," Alex responds, nodding his head along like he's talking to a particularly stubborn five year old.

"Michael?" he questions like he needs to be one hundred percent sure.

"Obviously," Alex answers, just as flat and matter of fact as before. "Who else would I be talking about?"

[thekatebridgerton]

Eight deadly sins: Bridgerton partners edition

Companion piece to my 8 deadly sins Bridgerton siblings edition. So let's get started

Kate: Wrath

I think I chose her as Wrath because its the driving force behind most of her actions in TVWLM. Take playing pall mall, she doesn't want to win, she just wants Anthony to lose. Anthony pisses her off so much during their book that her almost in perpetual state of annoyance drives most of the actions she takes and also, it is often mentioned in later books, how much Anthony dreads making his wife angry. If you ask me, out of both of them it's Kate who has a tiny bit of an anger management problem. ( She's capable of ruining Maria Rosso whole career in a pique of annoyance, just sayin)

Sophie: Lust

Self explanatory. Sophie spent her entire book acutely aware that her lust for Benedict was a particularly terrible weakness of hers and as such she guarded herself against sleeping with him with all trough thick and thin. So much that when she does fall into bed with Benedict it makes her feel like she betrayed herself and makes her want to immediately run away from the situation.

Penelope: Pride

Penelope's pride was what ultimately led to her downfall. So proud of Lady Whistledown, so happy to have made a name for herself right under the ton's nose, so confident nobody would ever figure it out. Penelope likes being the smartest person in the room, she likes the invisible power her secret gives her. So much that the moment Cressida tried to take credit for LW Penelope's pride wouldn't let her get away with it! And her hurt pride also leads her to lash out at Colin when he discovers her secret. It's her life work! She's not going to let anyone minimize what she's achieved

Simon: Vanity

He does think he's hottest snack in the room and needs protection from matchmaking mamas. No Seriously all jokes aside, for someone that insecure, he does have a very high opinion of himself that borders on vanity. Simon has worked all his life to build his public image, to hide the parts of him that his father deemed undersirable and cultivate an image of aristocratic aloofness. It's Daphne seeing past all that, which makes Simon break character and start liking her

Phillip: Sloth

More like, he was content with the bare minimum, before Eloise came into his life. Most of Phillip's sins in TSPWL can be blamed on inaction, some because he didn't know what to do,(deal with the aftermath of Marina's death) others because he was too passive to actually do what needed to be done (take charge of the raising of his children) Phillip is content with inaction, with isolation and distance. That's all he's ever known. At least until Eloise lights a fire under him and pushes him to make things right

Michael: Gluttony

I guess I put Michael in this category because Gluttony is the sin of overindulgence and he's the merry rake. Michael is an overindulgent person, not just in Francesca's eyes, but also in the eyes of everyone else. Which makes it ironic that the only thing he's had restraint in, has been his desire for Francesca.

Gareth: Greed

His greed comes in good faith okay. We still love him. But truth be told he still has to replenish his family fortune by marrying an heiress and he's still looking for the family diamonds for this reason. Gareth's greed is ultimately channeled into healthy outlets but we all know that had lady Danbury left him to his own devices, he would undoubtedly have married for money

Lucy: Envy

Like Gregory, Lucy ended up getting envy by process of elimination. Which is fitting considering that while she doesn't Envy anyone's life, she does envy the fact that they have a choice in the outcome of said life. Lucy's entire life has been controlled by her uncle while Hermione and Gregory did grow up with families that let them have a choice in how they wanted their lives to be. Even Richard has more choices than she does. And Lucy envies them for this. Not to the point of wishing anyone ill, but yes to the point of trying to make sure the people she loves don't squander the chances they got, because she doesn't get to have those chances

An: honestly this post was hard because I do think all the Bridgerton partners are Angelic beings who have done nothing wrong. Still I did my best with the prompt