#mother mary i have many things to say

[russeliarat]

I apologise to the Zelda people but I have many thoughts and feelings about Mr Jash and I must throw art about it into the world. Zelda will return shortly, if not by the end of the month when TotK is released. Until then, just look at my funky designs without context and hear my unfiltered screaming about lore and memes for a bit

[ominouspositivity-or-else]

one of the reasons i like kate chopin so much, especially through a catholic lens, is that one of her main themes is that there are so many ways to be a woman. there are so many ways to be a mother. there are so many ways to be a wife. there are so many ways to be the person God wants you to be. don't let anyone tell you who you should be. don't let anyone make unrealistic demands on your heart. don't let them kill you. don't let them get you down. they don't know you. they don't need to. you know you. do what God put you here for. he is asking you for right now. that's all you need to give to be the person you're meant to be.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

don’t forget the reason for the season (would you kiss your clone? yes. and you’re mr. maccabee)

[aabernants]

i have so many things to say about the new fhjy episode, but i find it so funny that Jace spent a portion of this battle trying to keep his 6 children under control 😭

“Buddy, Bacarath isn’t real!”

Mary Ann tugging Jace’s shirt numerous times to tell him she doesn’t feel good

Jace you single mother, you need a vacation..

[fatliberation]

Freddie Mercury was bisexual though

Nope, this is false! 🏳️‍🌈 Freddie was gay, there’s a lot of misinformation out there about his non-existent affairs with women, and much of it can be chalked up to a shit biographer named Lesley Ann Jones (aka my arch nemesis).

I've been deeply fascinated by Freddie Mercury and studying his personal life for years and years so excuse the following infodump (or jump in for a queer history lesson!)

Contrary to popular belief, Freddie was an out gay man. “Gay as a daffodil, my dear!” He’s clearly stated his sexuality in a handful of interviews; “I’ve done all that but I’m gay. Mary was my last woman.” (This interview was removed from youtube but you can find it mentioned in Freddie Mercury: A Life, in His Own Words which is a compilation of his actual quotes from interviews over the years.) Those statements got buried from the media in favor of promoting his more promiscuous quotes like "Darling, I'm doing everything with everybody." (Journalists LOVE to include this quote when talking about his AIDS...) He did purposely retain an aura of mystique around his sexuality, especially because it was much safer (trendy, even) for musicians to flirt with bisexuality than to be homosexual back then.

Here's a quote from Peter "Phoebe" Freestone, Freddie's personal assistant of twelve years, close friend, and "agony aunt" in his memoir, Freddie Mercury: An Intimate Memoir by the Man Who Knew Him Best:

"When the interview appeared, it was half the length that he imagined it would be. When confronted, Judy Wade said that it would have been impossible to have printed the whole text. She said she was holding back for his benefit, not for hers. Admissions such as, "I'm just going for a line and I'll be back in half-a-minute," would not have done anyone any good. However, she was fully prepared to underline in her second sentence that admission of being a fully 'out' gay man, although this does not lay the later myth which was popular which claimed that Freddie had never admitted his gayness."

Freddie's close friend Thor Arnold, a gay man and member of the "New York Daughters" (Freddie's gay friend group in NYC, of course Freddie was "mother!") corrected misinformation when fans on the Queenzone forum argued that Freddie was bi:

"Freddie NEVER tried to hide to his friends that he was TOTALLY gay. In his industry, he had to hide it to some extent although as I have said before, he certainly gave clues. This is the same man who came up with the name QUEEN for his band. This is the man who dressed very sexually, ambiguously 'glam' up until 1980. This is the man who threw an Easter bonnet party and had us all create Easter hats. This is the man who used the term darling (or Dahling) more than he used proper names, and renamed his friends with old actresses names. These things are doubtful for a straight or bi man. Many gays don't even act like this... I've never seen Freddie look twice at a woman but I have seen him look 3 or 4 times at an attractive man and say, 'Thor, Thor... Oh just look at him... Just gorgeous. I'd love some of THAT' We were genuine friends of Freddie and he would never hide that he was really bi. FREDDIE WAS A GAY MAN through and through...everyone...please get used to it."

LAJ, the biographer I previously mentioned, worked VERY hard to straight-wash Freddie in her book by erasing his gay relationships. She was obsessed with his relationship with Mary Austin and is the main reason modern journalists consider Freddie to have been in profound, romantic love with her his whole life. In reality, they dated for a few years in the 70s and remained close friends after they split up (because Freddie was having affairs with his boyfriend). However, he did rely on her as his "beard" to keep up with appearances for the press.

LAJ completely skipped over Freddie's first official boyfriend, saying it was "a covert fling with a young theatre." His name was David Minns. Freddie loved him so much he left Mary to be with him. They were in a serious relationship for three years.

If you're a Freddie fan, you're familiar with Mary's story of him coming out to her, saying "I think I'm bisexual," and her response, "I think you're gay." This story is probably not the truth. Mary has been very inconsistent with her story of how Freddie came out to her.

Another version she told for BBC Radio:

"I don’t know what sparked the conversation. But I remember standing in the kitchen and he was trying desperately to articulate how he was feeling, and his lifestyle and I just said, 'so you are telling me you're gay?' And he just smiled and 'we'll take it as a yes, you know, we'll leave it at that.' And that was it, it has been a long road getting to that point."

Honestly, I am a bit mistrustful of Mary Austin's intentions in general. If you're curious as to why, this post is a good primer on the ways she might have betrayed Freddie's wishes, namely being cruel to his chosen family after his passing.

Freddie only had one other girlfriend before Mary in college, Rosemary Pearson. When asked about Freddie on ITV's This Morning show, she said that he was more interested in her male friends than in her, and she suspected then that he was gay. This was in the 60s.

LAJ refers to his relationships with women throughout her book, but she doesn't list any names. That's because they don't exist. I could name at least seven of Freddie's boyfriends off of the top of my head. Minnsy. Joe Fanelli. Tony Bastin. Vince the Barman. Bill Reid. Winnie Kirchberger. And of course, his husband Jim Hutton, whom he spent the last six years of his life with.

There is one name that LAJ has chosen to platform and exaggerate her importance, and that's German pornstar Barbara Valentin. If you've heard of her, you might think she had a relationship with Freddie in the 80s, you might have heard the story where he had wild threesomes with her, that they lived together, that he even proposed to her. Not one word of it is true. Freddie hung around Barbara during his time in Munich because she was his 'in' to gay clubs and cocaine dealers. She also served as his English translator and conveniently, another beard for the press.

Not a single person in Freddie’s life has ever corroborated that Freddie and Barbara were anything but friends. As for the claim they lived together, according to Peter Freestone:

In the event, Freddie never actually lived there although Barbara fulfilled a huge role in Freddie’s life at that time… Freddie became very disillusioned when with more and more frequency articles were appearing in the German press’s gossip columns… about the relationship between him and Barbara… After one article claiming to have knowledge of him and Barbara getting married, Freddie concluded that it could only be Barbara who was providing the information.

(He was actually living with his Bavarian boyfriend of the time, Winnie Kirchberger.) Freddie stopped seeing Barbara after he found out she was gossiping about being his lover and these stories started appearing in the newspapers. Barbara continued these lies after Freddie's death, making up ludicrous lies like how Freddie tried to kill her by smothering her with a pillow?? She also claimed that he put her at risk of contracting AIDS by having sex with her after his diagnosis in 1987, which is the lie that burns the most. Freddie stopped having sex altogether before his diagnosis because he was terrified of contracting it. Before there was any information of how it was transferred, he showered compulsively. There is such a fucked up narrative that Freddie threw caution to the wind and wasn't careful during the epidemic, that it somehow fits this twisted narrative that his death was a result of his immoral lifestyle. That's the pervasive homophobia that stained the Bohemian Rhapsody biopic.

LAJ is one of those biographers who publishes their books after the celebrity has died, so they wouldn’t be able to deny the information being written in the book. So if there's anything to learn here, is that you can't always trust a biography!

Anyway, Freddie was gay as a daffodil my dears, and he deserved better.

[enwoso]

GRUMPY - alessia russo x child!reader

navigation

people always liked to comment on the fact that they could tell you were alessia's daughter, not because of the obvious reason of the fact that you looked like your mother but for the way you were a ray of sunshine, always a smile on your face and always giggling away at the smallest of things.

however today you were being the total opposite and nothing anyone seemed to do could cheer you up, not even grace could get a smile from you by pulling funny faces at you or beth telling you silly jokes.

you were just being grumpy but that came with a good reason.

you had spent all of yesterday travelling, from london to st george's park and then to marbella meaning that with all the excitement of seeing your aunties after a few months and then the excitement that followed from going on a plane and being in a new place meant you were no rush in wanting to have your usual nap much to your mum's distaste.

she thought you would have crashed out early however that was not the case, you had eventually fallen asleep but after many attempts of putting you down to sleep. you waking up a few times before falling into a deep sleep.

and then this morning you had woken up earlier than what alessia was expecting and your tiredness from yesterday had carried through to today and alessia knew she was in for a hell of a day.

"lovie, you need to eat your breakfast!" mummy said as she pushed your plate back in front of you for what felt like the hundredth time in the past 10 minutes.

"no" you said, arms held across your chest turning your head away from the plate. a hand pushing away the plate away once again.

"if you eat just half of your toast, then we can go in the pool with the flamingo floaty" ella smiled hoping that may try to persuade you as all last night it was all you talked about however you didn't budge only moving your head further away from ella.

"y/n, don't do that, it's rude!" alessia scolded as you moved your head back to where it was however your arms stayed present on your chest and the scowl remained on your face.

georgia then came along with lucy and keira and they both tried there best to cheer you up, as alessia sighed head hitting the wall behind her. "less don't worry she's just overly tired, just after lunch put her down for a nap" mary smiled squeezing the blondes shoulders in reassurance as the blonde nodded.

"i should have just made her go for her nap on the plane yesterday"

"no, you just didn't want to ruin her fun and excitement yesterday" mary said as she bumped her shoulder into alessia's as her head turned back to you as you were now beginning to fuss, throwing your arms around and kicking your legs against the high chair you were sat in.

"hey, hey, stop that. remember we don't hit, it's not very kind. say sorry to auntie lucy" your mum said lifting you out of the high chair and facing you towards lucy as she caught you lifting your hands to lucy.

"sorry lucy" you said a frown now appearing on your face as lucy smiled, "it's okay kiddo, we just wanna see your cute little smile, not that sad little frown" she said tickling you under your chin a little.

everyone was beginning to file out of breakfast and you were sat on chair your mum had sat you on while she put everything you needed into your small backpack which went pretty much everywhere will you.

“come on then lovie” your mum smiled holding out her hand for you to grab as she had her training bag and your backpack in her other hand, but instead of bursting up in a ball of energy like you usually would - you didn’t move a muscle.

staying exactly where you had been sat for the past five minutes. you didn’t even make an effort to move. “we need to go, everyone’s gonna beat us there!” the blonde tried, knowing that even though you were small you were very competitive, you didn’t like to loose. alessia had her brothers to thank for that.

“no” you said simply, alessia sighed having enough of trying to bargain with you and instead just gave up and walked over to where you were sat, picking you up so you were sat on her hip as she walked a little faster trying to catch up with the rest of the girls.

“what do we have to do to cheer you up today?” alessia asked as you rested your head on her shoulder and hummed.

since you hadn't ate much of your breakfast, alessia sat you down in the shade away from the hot sun of marbella but still so that you were within close proximity of her with a fruit pot and some colouring to do as well as some of your toys. after lathering you in factor 50 sun screen and making sure she had put put your pink bucket hat on your head.

"right mummy's gonna go and train now, if you need anything shout me over or ask one of the trainers to get me, okay?" alessia told you as she sat you down on the your blanket, you nodded reaching out to grab your green pencils.

"i'll be back soon to check on you, i love you" she cooed kissing you on the forehead as a small smile quickly came but as quick as it came it left. "love you mummy" you said quietly but still loud enough that alessia heard you, as she walked off to sit next to ella and put her football boots on.

training had never felt so long, you had quickly gotten bored of your animal colouring in sheets and everytime your mummy was sitting on the sidelines during the small sided games you were tucked away in her arms.

when alessia was due to play in the small sided games she would take you back to your little play area she had set up for you and jog back to play in the training game and then the cycle repeated every time you saw her sat down on the sidelines you were in her arms.

finally when training was over you were stood next to your mummy clinging onto her leg as she spoke with millie and maya. "what's happened to our little giggle box?" millie asked as she looked down at you.

"she's a little grumpy today" alessia sighed picking you up and placing you on her hip. "grumpy? well we can't be having that!" maya said as the four of you began to walk back into the hotel for lunch.

"she's going to have something to eat and then it's nap time!" your mummy said as you whined, "no! me not tried" you frown, pushing your head further into her shoulder. 

"oh, of course your not!" your mummy chuckled along with millie and maya.

“well i hope grumpy turns happy because otherwise who is gonna cheer us on, on friday?” millie said as she looked at you, the little pout that had been on your face all day growing deeper.

“oh yeah we’ll have to see if georgia will help you practise your chants again” your mum said, knowing that you and georgia would sit usually for a while going through each players chant and sometimes making your own up even if sometimes they never made any sense— they did to you.

“oh that’ll be fun won’t it, y/n!” maya smiled as you groaned and moved your head so that your face was no longer visible to millie and maya by tucking it into your mummy’s neck.

“definitely needs a nap” the blonde whispered however you still heard her as alessia then fell back into talking with millie and maya about boring adult things.

lunch was finished and you had spent the time watching your mums phone with a side of eating your pasta that had been given to you but realistically you just pushed it around the plate. you hadn’t said a word the entire time during lunch so much so beth had asked alessia if you were having your afternoon nap.

now the girls had the rest of the day off to have some down day, now alessia was praying she was going to be able to get you down for a nap considering you were getting more and more clingy and grumpy.

"do you want a bopbop?" mummy asked you as she slowly nodded again resting your head on her shoulder as you watching from behind mummy all of the other girls begin to slowly leave the lunch room.

mummy got your bottle and asked one of the kitchen staff if they could put some warm milk in it, but not a lot as alessia was trying her best to wean you off it — but for circumstances like this, you could have as much as you needed in order to get you to sleep.

alessia made her way to where the sun loungers were and the rest of the girls hoping to soak up a bit of the sun while you were hopefully napping in the shade.

you were dressed in your pj's which were pink and had little hearts spread all across the shorts, while the top was just a pale pink colour.

alessia sat herself down next to ella who was trying to do her puzzle book which alessia had brung although with you being a little difficult today the blonde hadn't had time to pick it up.

"she still not asleep?" ella asked turning to the blonde who shook her head, "give me twenty and with a bit of luck she will be" alessia smiled as she got herself comfy as well as you, as you hugged your bunny stuffed animal.

"here" mummy said as she handed you the bottle of warm milk and you began to drink it laying on your mummy's chest. a quiet chatter of ella and alessia was all to be heard as they discussed some of the answers to the puzzle.

alessia thought you were nearly asleep but you sat up on her tummy, bottle which was still half full hanging from your mouth.

"mummy?"

"yes baby?"

"too hot" you mumbled your eyes heavy and almost fluttering shut. "c'mere and you can take this off" mummy whispered as she took your pj top off feeling the cool air hit your back as you flopped back down onto your mummy's chest as she begins to play with the ends of your hair.

minutes pass and which each one your body relaxes that little bit more, the grip on your bottle gets a little slacker and before long a deep sleep is taking over you.

your body fully relaxing and becoming limp as your bottle falls from your grip and mouth landing sideways on the sun bed.

"and finally the long awaited nap has came!" alessia sighs still playing with the ends of your hair. "let's hope she wakes up a little more like her usual sunshine self!" ella laughed slightly placing the puzzle book to the side having given up on the one she was trying to do.

"hopefully, as long as nobody wakes her up!"

liked by stanwaygeorgia and 681,502 others

alessia sleeping angel

comments -

ellatoone always an angel👼🏻

1h 308 likes     reply

-> alessia she has her moments!

stanwaygeorgia when she wakes up i wanna practise my chants with her!

27m 213 likes     reply

-> alessia yeah, give her time to nap first g!

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

The Viscount is set on finding a wife this season, and you are trying again for your second season. While Anthony is dealing with trials between Edwina and Kate Sharma, you are dealing with trials of your own. Benedict Bridgerton is ever present in your life, but your pursuit to find a husband must come first. Society is ever so exhausting.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season Two

Chapter Twenty - The sisters

You step out of the carriage and look around you. The first ball of the season was always a grand affair. This one in particular as the queen had not yet chosen a diamond.

Last season, Lady Whistledown called Daphne Bridgerton a diamond of the first water, which made her stand out in the ton. Now, the queen was expected to choose a diamond every season. One lucky debutant would sparkle among all the others.

You take your mother's arm and head inside. Many were already present. Lots of lovely young ladies looking for partners for the evening. Your mother leaves your aide to go speak to some of the other mama's.

You stand alone near the entrance and look around. You couldn't spot anyone you knew. You decide to take a walk around the room.

Nerves were setting in. It was strange. You felt like you were doing all of this for the first time again. A few gentlemen glance at you as you pass by. You smile. They smile back. You keep walking.

As you make a turn about the room, you spot the Bridgertons arriving. You see Eloise dressed in a beautiful gown, yet looking uncomfortable. Violet looks very proud and excited. Then there's Benedict. Handsome and smiley.

You move quickly out of sight to avoid him. The way he had sketched you yesterday and what he had said had caused butterflies to rise in your stomach. You're not sure what to make of him right now.

While you try hard to avoid the gaze of the Bridgerton family, you do not escape the sight of Lady Danbury. As she sees you loitering around corners, she calls your name. Startled, you turn quickly in her direction. With a beck of her finger, you make your way over to her.

"Lady Danbury."

"Allow me to introduce you to my guests this season. Lady Mary Sharma and her daughters. Miss Kathani Sharma and Miss Edwina Sharma."

"Delighted," you smile at them.

Mary smiles politely at you. Her daughters do, too. Edwina, in particular, shares a striking resemblance to her mother. You take a look at the two sisters. Kathani is taller than Edwina, who is rather petite. Both of them have eye that sparkle in the lights of the ballroom. Their smiles are kind, though you sense a little nervousness from Edwina.

"A pleasure. You must call me Kate," the eldest of the two says, stepping forward ro greet you properly.

"Kate. I am looking for friends this season, I would be delighted to help make you both feel more comfortable this season if Lady Danbury agrees?"

Lady Danbury gives you a nod with an amused glint in her eye.

"I would be delighted. As would my sister, I'm sure." Kate turns to look at Edwina.

"Very much so." Edwina smiles.

Edwina's voice is higher than Kate's. She speaks softer, too. There are clear differences between them, but at the same time they are rather alike.

You smile at them both.

Lady Danbury comes up beside you and leans in rather close. "Avoiding your friends?"

"Not exactly."

"No? It looked to me like you were hiding." She chuckles.

"I was merely taking some time to myself. I need to get back into this. Last year did not quite go to plan." You avoid looking at her.

"Good things come to those who wait. I recommend branching out and growing your social circle. Miss Penelope Featherington could perhaps use another friend."

You look in the direction Lady Danbury is looking. Penelope stands among mamas gossiping, no doubt. You get the hint and make your way over there, hoping to spend time with the Sharma sisters again soon.

Perhaps this year is, in fact, a good time to make mkre friends. It gives you an excuse to avoid Benedict for a while, too.

"Penelope," you greet her softly.

"Oh, hello." She smiles shyly.

"May I keep you company a while?" You ask.

"Would you not prefer being among the others?" She asks in return.

You glance around the room and then back at her. "For tonight, no. I think I would much prefer to be a wallflower."

Penelope smiles slightly.

"How are you?"

"I am well." She nods. "Just... biding my time, I suppose."

The truth was that Penelope was watching and listening. Though she couldn't quite tell you that, or for what purpose. You would never believe her anyway.

"Is that Lady Mary Sheffield Sharma?" Portia asks, watching the Sharma family walk by. Kate smiles at you as she passes. You smile back at her. "I can't believe she would show her face here again," Portia continued.

"A scandal, mama?" Cressida asks her mother.

"Lady Mary was the incomparable of our season, until she fell in love with and married some kind of clerk, I hear. The two of them absconded to India, thereafter."

"A maharajah I would have understood, but the man was no more than a common worker who already had a child." One of the other mamas chimed in.

"That must be her. The older one," Portia points out toward Kate. You look at her from beside Penelope. There was no denying Kate was gorgeous.

"Lady Mary's parents, the Sheffields, never lived down the shame, did they?"

"Too ashamed to show their faces in London."

"If only every family could be as respectable as ours. Yes, Lady Featherington?" Lady Cowper chuckles softly.

You don't see Portia's response, too focused on watching Kate and Edwina.

You turn to Penelope. "No luck for you either?" You ask softly.

"Hm? Oh. No..." Penelope looks down shyly. "Excuse me." She leaves your side and walks away. You sigh softly. You ignore the chuckle of Cressida behind you and walk off in the other direction.

You have so far managed to successfully dodge Benedict, and for that you feel great relief. He must be preoccupied elsewhere. As you walk about the room you spot Edwina being asked to dance by Lord Corning. He's a tall handsome fellow with a good background. Edwina dances elegantly with him.

"Do you know him?"

You turn to find Kate looking at you. You smile and shakes your head. "Not personally. I know of him. He's very kind."

Kate watches her sister quietly.

"Are you not dancing?" You ask.

"I am here for my sister. Hers is the only match I care about. What about you?" She asks in return.

"Oh, no. I don't think I fit into society. It's too busy, too wanting. I don't think there is a perfect match for me. I got close last season, but it did not work out."

"What of him?" Kate nods across the room. You follow her gaze and find Benedict looking at you. He makes his way over once you spot him.

"I must go," you excuse yourself and flee.

Kate watches you go, and then watches Benedict follow the path you have taken. She wasn't sure what that was about, but she felt inclined not to intervene.

You find refuge in a dark corner behind some flowers. You sigh as you lean against the wall. Dodging Benedict all night was going to be harder than you thought.

"Are you hiding from me?"

You jump and turn to see Benedict looking at you. "No."

"It seemed like you were."

"I just need some space. All that dancing..."

"I didn't see you dancing." Benedict reaches for your dance card. "Your card is empty."

You take your hand back and sigh. "I'm sorry. I was just... confused."

"About that?" He asks.

"Forget about it. Why aren't you dancing?" You ask.

"I'm avoiding the mamas."

You chuckle softly.

"Dance with me?" He asks.

Your heart skips a beat. He offers you his hand and you know you can't really say no without making him worry. You take his hand and let him guide you to the floor. You join in with the dance.

Benedict looks at you as you both dance. "So tell me, why have you been avoiding me?"

You know he's not going to let this go. "I was embarrassed, I suppose."

"Embarrassed? Why?"

"Can I ask you something?" You ask softly.

"Of course."

"What do you see when you look at me?"

Benedict is struck into silence. He wasn't expecting that question from you. He has to remind himself that you're both dancing and take care not to step on your toes.

"You're beautiful, kind, honest, smart. You brighten up a room just by being in it. Your smile is genuine. You worry a lot, but I like that about you. It shows just how much you care about things and people. If I like you, other shall surely adore you."

You feel breathless. Benedict always knows just what to say to send you into a tizzy, but his last few words stung. He likes you, but not like that.

You put on a brave smile.

"Thank you, Benedict."

You both finish the dance, and he escorts you over to the refreshment table. He grabs you a glass and takes one for himself. You both sip your drinks. Before either of you can pick up the conversation, Violet comes over and leans into Benedict's other side.

"Have you seen your sister or your brother?" She asks, looking rather flustered.

"They managed to escape you? Good for them." Benedict smiles.

You nudge him harshly with your elbow. Benedict lets out a quiet ow and walks away, leaving you with Violet. You turn to her with a soft smile. "I'm sure they're not far."

Violet smiles softly and nods. "Have you two made up then?" She asks, referring to you and Benedict.

"Made up?"

"I was under the impression something happened." She looks a little confused.

"All is well. Your son has helped me see something in me I hadn't noticed before. That's all."

Violet smiles and then shifts her gaze as Lady Danbury approaches. You greet the other woman and she nods at you with a pleasing smile.

"Lady Danbury. Splendid evening," Violet comments.

"For the most part. There are a few guests whose absence I might not have regretted."

Lady Bridgerton laughs. "I do hope I'm not one of them."

"You and I have common interest this season, it seems." Lady Danbury tells her.

"I heard. Your wards, I look forward to meeting them."

"I met them earlier," you chime in. "Two very beautiful ladies."

Violet seems pleased by your words.

The two ladies talk away, and you find this a good opportunity to sneak away. You miss Kate and Edwina leaving rather quickly from the ball, unaware what had occurred between Kate and Anthony in the garden.

Benedict finds you again rather quickly. He comes up beside you and looks around. "Has my mama ended her pursuit?"

"I don't know why you're worried. She has her hands full with Eloise and Anthony. I don't envy her position with those two."

Benedict chuckles. "Is my mama not helping you, also?"

"She has offered her assistance, yes. Yet, I do not expect to come first. Her own children are her priority, and for that, I understand. I think I shall push the subject to the back of my mind for now."

Benedict regards you quietly and then nods.

The rest of the evening passes in quiet company with the second eldest brother. He sees no reason to leave your side when he's finding himself enjoying his time so much.

He even escorts you outside at the end. Everyone is too occupied with themselves to pay any attention to you two.

Benedict sees that you get in your carriage safely and bids you farewell. You wave as the carriage leaves. He watches you go before joining his family again.

Another season, another opportunity for chaos to arise.

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd -

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff - @orchiidflwer - @crazymar15

@cosmixstar - @bree3parchen - @berrnuu - @charmainemaclendon - @pinkpantheris - @krismdavis

@biancamde - @ifgslsofbsodbf - @kniselle - @berarenado - @grassclippers - @bwormie - @avengersgirllorianna

[phasecornnuts]

Hiiiiiiii! If you’re still open for requests maybe you might wanna write something where the reader casually mentioned that they/she had a partner on earth before they died and Alastor takes it a bit too drastically and has just been very salty and asking too many questions 😭 if you like that

Please & thanks ❤️

Hey guys I've returned! Sorry for taking a little while, I was busy with finals/I wanted to relax on my spring break so I didn't have a lot of time. I lowkey kind of cooked with this one too so enjoy :3

Also, I sorta made the reader be from around the same time period as Alastor (sorta late 1910s early 1930s) for extra spice

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

It had become a daily routine for you and Alastor to have afternoon tea together in cannibal town. Always, between the hours and four and six o’ clock after Alastor had finished his broadcast and you, your hotel duties, the both of you would walk down to Rosie’s Emporium to nibble on finger sandwiches, candied eyeballs, and other treats. 

The sun was still high in the sky, sending fingers of light through the windows of the cafe; the building was alive with the chatter of demons and hell-born alike. You and Alastor had just sat down, a short cannibal girl with a heart-shaped face and glowing brown ringlets placing your usuals on the table. Oh how beautiful they were! Too pretty to eat, garnished with tiny sprigs of mint (or, at least, it may have been mint) and resting on plates of delicate porcelain. With polished silver beside them, and matching teacups and saucers too, it all looked like a party for a girl’s favorite doll.

That is, if it weren’t human meat. 

Looking up from your plate, you saw Alastor turn his head to follow the cannibal girl making you frown. His gaze returned to you before he caught you staring, a chipper grin on his face as always.

“She could be a dead ringer for Mary Pickford, don’t you think?”

Your eyebrows perked. You hadn’t looked long at the girl admittedly, though you stared long enough to know that she was no Pickford. You pursed your lips,

“I don’t see it, Lillian Gish maybe.”

He looked at you like a mad-woman, “You don’t!?”

“No! Her eyes are much too large!”

Alastor chuffed, proceeding to rest his chin on his dark hand, “In the eye of the beholder I suppose.” 

You rolled your eyes, “You only say that because of her curls,” you stated while picking up the teapot and pouring yourself and Alastor your cups, “Now, drink before it gets cold.”

For much of your lunch neither of you spoke, merely enjoying each other’s presence while pecking on some food here and there. Throughout the meal the waitress brought more plates, pancreas tarts, minced tongues coated with cinnamon sugar, and sweet pies filled with rotted venison and cooked kidneys, all Rosie’s treat. Alastor had been taken by the small pies in their mulled deliciousness, the meat so tender you saw his eyes water. He pleaded you to try one, though you couldn’t, your stomach filled to the brim from the other treats and delicacies. 

Alastor picked up the small pair of silver tongs from beside him and placed two sugar cubes in his tea, “I do say, it’s nice to have a meal companion again.” He took a sip from his teacup and grinned. 

You nodded in agreement, lifting the milk jug from the table and pouring a generous amount into your cup. “Likewise. Good dinner conversation is a horrid thing to lose.”

“Truly.” He took another drink. “Before you, I hadn’t had a proper luncheon since my mother.”

“From what you tell she sounded like a fine woman.” His grin lost its eeriness, becoming fond instead. 

“She truly was, and such a fine cook too.” Alastor gazed at the fine pattern painted on the rim of his saucer, “her jambalaya was the best, our side of the Mississippi” he chuckled. He began to remember then, “And her gumbo and her crawfish etouffee and her pecan pralines”

It was odd to hear his voice so full of affection, but nice too. So strange, to think a man who broadcasted his murders of other overlords and feasted on their flesh was once a little boy who clung to his mothers skirt and happily ate her cooking. 

“Maybe one day you’ll cook for me then?” you teased

“Oh why wouldn’t I for my favoritest of sinners?” He took your hand.

You leaned in towards him, a silent flirtation. “Or perhaps I could prepare something for you?”

He looked at you from his dark, hooded eyes, a certain intrigue radiating from them. “Would you now?” he said, leaning in closer. 

“Oh I would, anything you’d like.” the tip of your oxford lingering at his ankle. “My food was good enough for my darling back on earth, why would an overlord of hell have any complaints? Other than not enough seasoning I suppose.” 

That was when the laughter in his eyes died. Alastor bit the inside of his cheek before finding the words to speak, “Your darling?”

 “Pardon?”

“You had someone,” He straightened up, pulling himself away from you, “back on earth?”

“I hardly see how it matters now.” 

Alastor’s tone grew curt, had such a simple word bruised his ego? 

He crossed his arms, “What were they like?” each word as sharp as his teeth.

You pulled your hands close to you, confused at his curtness, “They were….they were nice. Cordial, spirited, vivacious, however you would put it. If you’re-” Alastor cut you off. 

“How did you meet them?”

“On the trolley.” That only served to make him scoff.

“Tch, how common. The trolley.”

You chewed your bottom lip, trying to deny the anger towards him that began to knot in your belly. “It was a different lifetime.” You asserted, a hard finality to it. Pushing yourself from the small table you smoothed your skirt and adjusted the ribbon that was tied so nicely in your hair. 

Without looking at him you said, “Tell Rosie I’m grateful for her hospitality and I will try to find a way to repay her. Also that I’m sorry that I had to retire without saying hello but I feel rather…faint.” Before leaving completely you said, “See you back at the hotel.”

The rest of the day you hid in your room, sulking and pacing. Charlie had tried to coax you out, seeing how angry you’d been when you came back, but you denied every effort she had. 

“It’s not good to stay cooped up in there,” the Princess pleaded.

“I like my alone time.”

 “But- but I had games planned! Husk was going to show us how to play Blackjack and Dominoes!”

“I prefer bridge, and he’ll just cheat us anyways.”

She gave a disappointed sigh, and outside the door you could hear Vaggie talking to her, telling Charlie to give you your space. 

For three nights straight you avoided Alastor, finishing up your hotel duties quickly before hiding in your room. You grew bored after the first day admittedly, a person could only sleep and bathe and read so much. The fourth night is when he knocked on your door while you lied draped on your couch, your nose in a book you’d already finished before. Thinking it was Charlie, you ignored it, sure she’d get the message. It insisted however, rapping harder the second time. You sighed, annoyed. “Who is it?”

“Alastor, may I come in?”

A sour taste came in your mouth, “No.”

“You cannot lock yourself away from me forever.” 

You lifted yourself off the couch, full of bitterness, “I can and I will!”

An electric hum filled your ears, the sound of Alastor weighing his words, “Could you at least entertain my attempt?”

Walking to the door and opening it slightly you saw his face, those deep, hooded eyes dark as blood, cracked lips, and hollow cheekbones. All of those beautiful, haunting features draped in remorse. You sighed, cursing the affection you had for him. 

“Fine, but I’m still cross with you.” That made him smile, if only a tad. 

Opening the door fully, you saw he’d brought one of the dining carts from the unused kitchen clad in a clean white sheet. Alastor pushed it to the center of the room before spiritedly ripping the cover from the cart, presenting polished silver dishes of raw meat and organs. From the bottom shelf of it, he had pulled a fine bottle of wine and two shining glasses.

“I helped myself to a bottle of Husk’s finest, the patrons here don’t have as refined tastes as you and I.” He gave a small grin. So this is what he brought with him, a peace offering. Your stomach was empty from only eating a small meal earlier in the day, so perhaps it was not in vain, though you weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive him. 

“I’ll help you set the table,” you offered, feeling guilty he put so much effort into pleasing you. 

Alastor held his hands up, “No need darling.” He put his hand on his throat, “What I said the other day was very…” he coughed into his hand, “ungentlemanly of me, and I wanted to make it up to you.” 

You folded your hands and held them to your chest, looking at the embarrassment he tried to hide. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, and raised your gaze to his. “Thank you, Alastor.” His grin widened as he sat down beside you. 

He uncorked the bottle of wine, beginning to pour it into the glasses, “Of course.” He handed you the glass which you took gladly. The vintage was so dark it looked black, reflecting the lights that glowed from the ceiling. Swishing it, you could see the hidden shades of red that the wine hid.

“Demon’s blood, Husk calls it.” Alastor told you before he took a long sip. 

“Fitting. Do you know how long he’s aged it?” Alastor shrugged, taking another swallow. 

“I didn’t care to ask, but it tastes so good going down. Come, drink, I didn’t bring this up so I could get drunk by myself.” That made you giggle, how much he valued the both of you eating and drinking together. 

Taking his lead, you titled your head back, savoring the warm burn of the wine going down. Its hot fingers lingered in your chest before fading, like drinking cold medicine. In three large gulps you finished your glass, noticing the way Alastor’s eyes watched your throat as you drank. After finishing your second glass you began to dig into the food he’d brought, pancreas tarts, cooked kidneys and…oh good god! On the largest plate was a raw heart, fresh and bloody. 

“Where did you get this? You shouldn’t have!” Your eyes went wide and your mouth began to salivate. A raw heart! Oh and it was human too! Such a fine delicacy must have taken so much begging from Alastor!

“Rosie owed me a favor. And I owe it to you, for making such a jackass of myself.” 

You took another sip of your wine, feeling your face begin to flush. You helped yourself to a tart while Alastor poured himself another glass. As you ate you felt his eyes on you again, focusing on the way your teeth bit into the pastry, your swan’s neck showing your swallow, and how your tongue dragged across your lips. Feeling bold, you placed your feet in his lap and wiped the corner of your mouth with your finger, licking the tip of it with your tongue. He swallowed, hard, his eyes growing wide. 

“Are you looking at something?” Your voice a heavy seduction.

“Possibly.” He drank again. Leaning back on the arm of the couch, he placed his glass on the floor. The tips of his fingers grazed your legs, “Though I do have another question for you, if I may.”

A sultry smirk grew on your face, “That depends on what it is, Al.” God, you could see the glint in his eyes then.

Alastor looked up at you from his hooded eyes, “I’ve been wondering…about your “darling.” You arched an eyebrow; your interest piqued. “Did they ever have…you?” His breath shuddered. 

“Have me, how?” You teased.

“Oh humor me my dear,” He purred

You smirked and shifted your legs in his lap. “Hmm, maybe once or twice…” You sit up from your recline and crawl onto his lap.

“What sorts of things did they do to you?” 

Running your fingers down his chest you savored the way he squirmed and shifted, “All sorts of unholy things” 

Alastor choked on his breath, his eyes transfixed on your face. Slowly, he caught it, regaining a certain boldness afterwards. His hand found the top of your stocking, fingering the nylon taut to your thighs. “Getting rather comfortable aren’t we my dear?”

The smirk you had deepened and you pulled in closer, feeling the heat of his breath tickle your cheeks. You looked into his eyes, “I could get much more comfortable if you like, Al.” For what seemed like ages you lingered, until you felt you had tortured the man enough. Slowly, you leaned in, seemingly ready to kiss his shiny red lips. Grinning, you pulled a piece of dry skin from his bottom lip between your teeth, peeling it to show the bleeding flesh beneath. 

You sat back on his lap and spat out the skin. Looking at him, you saw that hunger in his eyes again. That fine line of decorum the two of you had with one another, ignoring the lingering gazes and longing touches, all thrown away with one bite. Underneath, you could feel his arousal beginning to grow hard. You rolled your hips slightly into him, earning a throaty groan from Alastor. From the silver dining cart you pulled the piece de resistance, that raw bleeding heart, and sunk your teeth into it, tasting the sweet flavor of iron. Trails of blood dripped from your mouth onto your decolletage, slowly turning brown and flaky.

Alastor’s breath heaved, growing even harder from that sultry cannibalistic display. He pulled you towards him and pressed your mouth to his, saccharine saliva mixing with sanguine. His tongue slid and twisted about yours, savoring every inch of its taste. You pulled away from him to catch your breath, making him whine. Leaning in again, he dragged his tongue along your neck, cleaning up the drying strings of blood. 

Both of you straightened up then, him holding you proper now. One hand ran its fingers through his shiny red hair and the other cupped his aching sex, so taut against his trousers. 

“Is that what you were so upset about Al? If they fucked me or not?” You purred into his ear.

The tips of your fingers fluttered over his hip, tracing its edge before returning to his cock. “I bet you wondered if I did this to them, didn’t you?” A small nip was placed on his neck, leaving a red half-moon. Your breath grew hot against his cheek as you whispered into his ear again, 

“Maybe I did, and maybe I did so many more dirty things to them.” 

Alastor enraptured your mouth in another needy kiss. His words heavy with radio static, “What sort of things my dear? Or are you all talk?” Your grin widened seeing the shock in his eyes when you began to unbutton his overcoat.

“Let me show you.”

Four little words was all it took to send him over the edge. Picking you up, his hands traced over all the parts of your succulent body. When he flopped you on the bed, hair as tousled as a pin-up, you reached out a stockinged leg to him, that devious look on your face growing. Oh how badly he wanted to have you, hastily unzipping your dress as you stripped him down to his undershirt and trousers. Deft fingers hooked around the tops of your stockings, pulling them down as fast as they could. You dropped his trousers and took off his shirt, admiring all of that soft, gray skin.

You pressed your mouth to the flesh of his stomach, blessing it with small love-bites that made him shudder. All along his torso you left red patches and traced your cool fingertips along the hard edges where his ribs poked out. You tilted your head up and moved his hands to the straps of your brasserie, exposing all of your hot, yearning flesh. He cupped a breast and lied on top of you. Grinding his sex to yours he moaned into your mouth. It had been so…so long since you’d been wanted, since someone pressed their body to yours and you felt all of their heat as they slid into you, over and over again. 

“Al,” You breathed

“What is it?”

“Get on your back.” 

And so he did. 

Alastor’s back against the mattress and your palms against his chest, you let him enter you. He let out a string of curses when you did, and even more when you started moving in those easy rolling motions. Those large hands of his held the curve of your waist as you rode him, his eyes half-lidded as he watched your breasts bounce. 

“The first time I saw you…” You began, going a little faster, “I wanted you,” You heard a small thud as he dropped his head against the pillows.

“I thought about you kissing me and touching me all over” That’s when the pulses of pleasure started to build up, prickling you in sweet needles that went all the way up your spine.

“And about you sticking your fingers in me and..and your tongue too” You felt your face heat up and your sex grow slicker, admitting those indecent thoughts you only entertained during late nights when your fingers wandered. Alastor gripped your waist tighter, making your rhythm harsher. You looked down on him, his eyes glazed over with euphoria, and felt your mouth pool with saliva.

Digging your nails into the skin of his chest you kept on. “For a whole week I couldn’t keep from slipping my hands between my legs.” Your voice, thick and hoarse. “I wanted to know what you tasted like, if-if your mouth tasted like blood,” that was when he quickened the pace even more. Your sex was so hot and wet, all the way at the base of your spine you could feel your orgasm coming to you, a full-body shiver that made your eyes well with tears. 

The last part was what sent him over the edge though. 

“Sometimes, I’d bite myself so I could taste the blood when I’d touch-” was all it took to make him come. 

Fuck it felt good too. A weak falsetto escaped your mouth when he released, so warm and filling. That’s what made you reach your end too. You clawed your nails in his skin so deep there were two broken half-moons on his chest. Your thighs clenched against his torso, quivering, as you could feel your body become as light and floaty as chiffon. 

Alastor let the both of you ride it out, that sweet joyous bliss. When your mind returned from the heaven it was sent to, you leaned over, resting on top of him. He moved you gently, pressing you closely to his chest. For a while, neither of you spoke, the air lingering with the smell of sweat and blood and sex. You ran your fingers through his hair again; He kissed the back of your hand before speaking. 

“If I’d known all that would come out of making you angry at me, I would’ve earned your ire a long while ago.” You rolled your eyes, flicking his chest playfully. 

“Perhaps we could do this again, without the arguing?” You propose, “You’re quite good at it.” 

A smile stretched across his face as he played with a lock of hair that rested near your face, “Expect nothing less from an overlord of hell cher.” One of his hands slid to your lower back, tracing small circles on that creamy flesh. 

“How about we try one more time without the arguing, for good measure?”

You smirked and kissed him again. All for good measure.

[specific-dreamer]

stay gold is for darry too

“when you’re young and the world is new / it’s easy to forget when you’re trying just to make it through”

bc, cmon guys, darry is twenty. 20, two-zero. idk how different college was back then, so bare with me.

he’s from tulsa oklahoma, the south, and he’s twenty years old. assuming he didn’t take a gap year (i’m going off the musical sayin he had to drop out, instead of not go all together) he would’ve been in his second year of school.

(i’m putting a break here because this turned more into a headcanon than an analysis i fear)

and we know darry’s a lil extroverted social butterfly, i’m sure he made so many friends. do you think he told them he was going home for the weekend but would totally be back for that frat party? or do you think he had a best friend on campus that he couldn’t wait to introduce to his family and the gang because he just knew how’d great they’d get on?

because he’s at a state college likely, there’s gonna be greaser/soc rivalries still but chances are so high that the max tension will be arguments. so it’s likely he even got to (freely, and guilt free) make friends with socs.

his biggest worries sophomore year was if he would finish his homework and papers before the weekend so he could go home for his birthday. his biggest worry was working up the nerve to still his dad he blew his allowance that month on some girl. his biggest worry was struggling with being a first gen college student, juggling his papers and football practice, and his work study.

i’m willing to bet he didn’t even tell his parents he’d be home that weekend. i’m thinkin he told dally, because dally would likely forget to tell the others he was comin and everyone else can’t keep their mouths shut for shit.

i think he went to Oklahoma State, which is only 2 hours from tulsa. so, i’m thinking he caught the greyhound really really early that morning, like crackass of dawn early. and when he gets there it’s probably 6:00 and through the window darry can see his parents rousing soda and pony up for school. (school may start at 8:30, but they got two rowdy teenage boys one of whom hates school to get ready, they’ll wake up an hour earlier than necessary)

darry, in all his older brother glory, probably waits for the perfect moment to make his grand entrance. he’d wait until he hears ponyboy loudly complaining that “darry doesn’t have to wake up this early” and he fuckin grins because that’s the most perfect entry for him.

but he can’t get excited, not yet. he’s gotta act like it’s no big deal that he’s here, so he opens the door all casual like and starts toeing off shoes as he closes it behind him. and in his arrogant, i’m-the-eldest-of-course-i’m-right voice he says, “you’re so right, little brother. i actually woke up three hours ago.” and darry tries his damndest he really does, but he can’t help the way his chest loosens and his grin widens and it feels like every stressful thing he’d been worried about rolls off back when he hears the gasps and “sweet mother mary” from his family when he announces himself.

he probably doesn’t even get his second shoe off before he’s knocked to ground by pony (soda would have too, if he was anymore awake, instead he’s just staring at darry in confusion).

i’m gonna write a fic BUT BACK TO WHAT I WAS SAYING

do you think darry feels guilty for not having called ahead of time? do you think he wishes he stayed at school that weekend so parents wouldn’t have gotten in that wreck? do you think a small of darry, a part that he hates as each day passes, wishes that he let the social workers take his brothers? only to instantly regret that train of thought when his brothers crawl into his bed at 10pm trying to stop shaking and crying so they don’t “wake” darry

do you think that it was in that moment, that all those childhood jokes with his parents and phony arguments with paul suddenly became real. that sodapop and ponyboy are his babies. they may not be his in the same way that curly and angela are tim’s kids, but his friends at school are always sayin darry needs to stop referring to pony as his “littlest”.

we know darry didn’t cry at the funeral (or at all, at least to pony’s knowledge) but i really think college was such a breath of fresh air for darry that he was probably holding back sobs when he called his schools admission office to drop out.

i think before they could bury their parents properly, darry had to convince his brothers to go down to school with him so he could pack his things up. (i say convince because i think pony might’ve cried himself hoarse thinking that darry was going back to school and leaving them alone)

do you think darry cried the night before they went down to oklahoma state? because his friends were finally going to meet his littles that he could never seem to stop talking about. he’d have to find some way to apologize for missin the frat party (and his 20th birthday, hell, darry thinks his might’ve been more excited than he was) because saying his parents just died and he legally became a father of two is a little too comedic to sound real despite things.

or do you think he avoided his friends like the plague because he knows he’d break down if he saw their pitying eyes? he knew he’d break down if that one girl he couldn’t keep his eyes off of from his psych class saw him and soda carry his boxes to the car and stopped and ask him why he was leaving.

do you think after the funeral when darry made sure his brothers were alright, tucked in for bed and knew they could go find him if they needed anything at all, instead of going to his room he went to his parents room? just to feel their presence one last time. he probably went under their covers too, in the middle like when he was a kid so he could turn left and smell his daddy’s cologne or turn right and smell his mamas rosy perfume, just so he could get one more hug from them. just one more hug before he had to let them go

(do you think when ponyboy inevitably came lookin for darry to scare his nightmares away later that night he got scared when darry wasn’t in his room? do you think he started crying all over again unable to be tough because what if darry’s dead too or worse what if he really did leave them? do you think that’s when pony started sleeping with soda instead. that that’s when his image of darry being a hero cracked because what kind of hero leaves when people are still needing to be saved?)

[punkpandapatrixk]

🌟Blessings to Expect throughout 2024 ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

‘You’re always here. What are you doing?’

‘Nothing…nothing in particular.’

‘You’re Saibara’s grandson, right? Aren’t you working at the Blacksmith shop?’

‘I’m not interested in that. I want to go back to the city.’

‘Oh… I came from the city, too. My dad moved the family to this village because he was going to study plants. I felt lonely at first. But the people here are all very kind.’

‘I don’t feel lonely. But I can’t find what I want to do in this village.’

‘What is it you want that you can’t find here?’

‘Well, it’s…oh, nothing…’

‘My mother always says that if you can’t find what you want to do, then do what you can see to do now. Nobody finds what they want immediately. But if you waste your time every day because of that, you’ll never find anything... To tell you the truth, I haven’t found what I’m looking for yet, either. See you.’

— Mary and Gray’s conversation from Harvest Moon: Back To Nature

SONG: Somewhere Over the Rainbow by Judy Garland

MOVIE: The Wizard of Oz (1939)

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Welcoming Love, True Love

VIBE: Ready for Your Love (feat. MNEK) by Gorgon City

end of a struggle – King of Swords

You’ve been incredibly and marvellously responsible for…quite a number of years, I think? For some of you maybe a couple of months or so. But your struggles have ended; nearing ending; or you just haven’t realised yet how everything has changed for the better now. If you take a moment to really notice yourself, I’m sure you can tell just how much clearer you’ve become about many things pertaining to your surrounding and sense of Self. I feel you’ve worked really hard to overcome excessive trauma noises that have caused you a great deal of psychological pain.

Starting this year, you can feel more confident in your intellectual capacity to gauge situations right in front of you. Making choices will be a lot easier now because you’re clear about who you are as a person and what it is you truly want out of your own existence. You’ve clearly set enough boundaries with those who didn’t have your best interest. Seems to me you’ve learnt the hard way to be more selfish in the spirit of self-preservation. And so, the adventure of a lifetime begins right this moment.

In fact, I feel like your entire Life up until this point has been quite the adventure—only it has been filled with sorrow and misery, sorta. Surely it was your Hero’s Journey taking shape for the early chapters of your Life’s Story. A slow burn of a lifetime, if you will. Beginning this year, you’re entering the most exciting part of your rise to glory and everlasting happiness!

in your favour – 8 of Pentacles

You’ve been hustling behind the scenes for the most part. At least, those who aren’t close to you will never know just how much work you’ve put into bettering your world from the inside out. You worked so much on your mindset; you must’ve exercised a lot, too; tried to eat more cleanly and healthily; worked on your glow-up; brushed your skills; etc. You were investing in yourself for the future vision you’ve always held close to your heart. And for that reason, the seeds are now blooming.

You’re making me think of the bamboo plant. Did you know that a bamboo seedling takes around 5-7, maybe even 8-10, years to gestate underground? All alone in the dark without anyone knowing what’s going on down there. And when the seedling shoots up to the surface, the bamboo plant is famous for being the fastest growing plant there ever is.

So yeah~ fast or no fast in your mind, the point is that you’ve done the work on yourself and all the plans you’ve ever had for your Life. This year, 2+0+2+4=8, is the year you reap all the rewards and grow even faster from where you are now. Whatever undertaking you begin this year will gain traction super fast! Pat yourself on the back because when things get super good, you deserve to take a small break and just enjoy how far you’ve come~! Breathe~

catching stars – Page of Wands

Your Story is totally far from finished. With the Page aenergy—a kid’s aenergy—you’re only on the precipice of entering a Life of passion and purpose. You could almost say, it’s a new Story altogether just because this chapter of your Life is SO SO SO super good in comparison to the chapters about your struggles. I guess you’d call this a new arc huehue

You’re young Hercules now. Pretty soon, there will occur some big event that propels you into a bona fide hero, and then, you’ll meet your Megara~ This part of your Story is where you enter a circle of true—at least truer—friends and lovers who will motivate you throughout the next chapters of your Life. Sure, sure, struggles don’t just end, poof, like that and you will continuously need to learn to sift through these new breeds of friends and acquaintances. But that’s also part of your next level growing up, so don’t sweat the possibilities XD

Throughout 2024, you could be moving to a new environment and then meet new friends. Highkey you’re gonna be meeting Soulmates and Soul Fam members; these are the people who resemble you so much either on the inside or outside. These are people who think like you, care about the same things as you; basically you’re gonna finally feel like you truly belong somewhere on this Planet. Love is in the air because you’ve been giving so much Love to yourself before this point. You are Love. You emanate Love wherever you go because you love yourself, and thus you become a magnet for people who also will love you just as good~

APPLE STRUDEL🔻💛

honey lemon juice – Silver Magus (Merlin)

have a sweet time, honey – Priestess of Love

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Rising Up to Accept Yourself Wholly

VIBE: She Said from Kamikaze Girls

end of a struggle – Knight of Cups

You’ve kinda just gone through a death of a paradigm of sort. I feel that in the past, you simply didn’t really know who you were or what you were meant to be. This confusion of an identity was caused by your parents/caretakers not really appreciating you for who you were as a child or it could also be caused by your environment, race, culture, custom, tradition, stuff like that. It wasn’t your fault, you know. You literally grew up on your own and finally got clear about your own identity—you stopped caring if your real identity is too weird, too eccentric for this world.

Basically, you got tired of rejecting yourself. And you realised that you were doing that because you knew others wouldn’t accept you. Then you realised people are shitty and lame for the most part anyway, so you learnt to be OK with embracing all of your weird heart’s little desires. And you nurtured yourself and nurtured yourself until you rose above the lameness of most of Humanity. Did you know? You did the right thing, really. Through and through.

You’re definitely an Advanced Soul. I think even when you were a kid you always felt like there was some spirit/shadow parental figure walking behind you, guiding your thought processes. This older/bigger unseen figure was really just your own Higher Self, you know :D More than others would give you credit for, you’ve been such a good gal/boi for always listening to the guidance of your Higher Self~

in your favour – 3 of Pentacles

Beginning this year, you’re going to finally meet people who are similar to you. Similar as in, you’re going to meet a lot of colourful characters, really. People who also feel somewhat like society’s outcast. These people are going to come from various backgrounds and they will each have very interesting back stories and life experiences that will entertain you for a long time. These people could also have very strange, unusual hobbies that will spark your interest in new, alien pursuits.

With that said, this year could be the year you begin a new passion project of your own, with these people, new friends, you share a vision with. They do care about you and want to succeed together, so you can trust that these connections are going to bear sweet feelings for you. Most importantly, this year you’re going to know the sweet feeling of doing something meaningful with your natural talents born out of your innate interests. When you finally get the money, you will first and foremost taste gratitude from those who seem to love and enjoy what you do or have to offer~

Life really is getting better now because you’ve mustered the courage to explore your possibilities in all your eccentricity. Your Higher Self never meant for you to fit in anyway. You were always meant to be some sort of a genius trailblazer—a source of inspiration for the other lameass Humans who are too afraid to be themselves.

catching stars – 10 of Pentacles

What more can be said? On top of embracing yourself fully, loving yourself wholeheartedly, and meeting kindred spirits, you’re also going to gain a massive amount of money! Life’s always good when you have a lot of money! More money means a happier heart and more to share as well. But in your case, if you’ve chosen this Pile as your main pile, know that before a lot of money even trickles into your reality, it is the sense that you’re serving your Life Purpose what will make you feel rich.

After all, there could people reading this who came from a wealthy background and you may think you don’t crave or even care about money. Exactly. You never cared about a lack of money but didn’t you struggle with grounding yourself to this Reality because you didn’t know what you were put on Earth to do? This ‘10 of Pentacles sense of abundance’ encompasses a sense of material abundance that feels deserving; you can now feel worthy of getting paid for some passionate, incredible, show-stopping contribution you’ve made to society. Isn’t that such a wonderful feeling?

Some of you reading this could mend some broken bonds with family; some others could finally find a tribe—a Soul Family—and feel that you belong; some could start a family of your own with someone worthy of your high-grade affection. Congratulations~! You’ve really made it this far~ Things can only get better and better from here♥︎

APPLE STRUDEL🔻💗

honey lemon juice – Green Historian (Herodotus)

have a sweet time, honey – Priestess of Patience

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Stepping On the Pedestal of Destiny

VIBE: Cheer Up, Charlie from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

end of a struggle – King of Pentacles

If you’ve chosen this as your main pile, I just know it that you’ve been working so hard on yourself, on a level that’s practically incomprehensible for most people. I’m sure you’ve survived so many deaths of the spirit—and perhaps even some of the more dramatic attempts. And you’ve come on top of your misery now. You’ve gotten healthier and clearer about where you’re going next. I sense sometimes you still doubt yourself but it isn’t a sin to doubt, it’s just a sign that you want to do well. And on so many levels, sometimes you’re afraid because you genuinely want this dream/vision to happen to you.

I assure you with this reading that you’re on the fast track towards a rendezvous with Destiny. Fast…is honestly relative to each Soul’s blueprint tho XD Time is on your side and what’s meant for you can’t miss you. So chillax, OK? One thing to know about this great dream/vision of yours is that you’re going to see it manifest because you’re different from the rest. Different in that you want to see it manifest to be of service to the rest! When you really think about it…

Don’t you just know from deep within your Soul that you’re deserving of this great destiny? It’s because you’re going to serve a massive purpose with it! So many people would benefit from your realising this dream. And that’s the very thing! You’ve been holding on to this vision, and you want it, because you’re MEANT for it.

in your favour – 4 of Cups

I’ll be referencing the 1971 ver. of Willy Wonka here. And honestly, I think you should watch it by the weekend or something because that movie’s whole vibe will feel tremendously validating to you, I sense hahah

Have you heard of the theories that say Charlie was literally singled out by Willy Wonka from the very beginning? That he had chosen all of those horrible brats because he wanted to punish, oops, teach them a lesson, and that principally he had been watching Charlie and wanted HIM to inherit the Chocolate Factory. If you watch the 1971 film you’ll literally get it! And with this 4 of Cups, know that that’s how the Universe feels about you stepping into your destiny. Willy Wonka, or God idk, doesn’t want anybody else but YOU to fulfil this role~!

You’ve literally been chosen and singled out by the Universe to win the grand prize! Just so you know, as I’m typing these words I literally have the Willy Wonka movie playing on another window and as I typed ‘grand prize’, the person in the movie is saying it right at the same time at around the 19:11 minute mark. Things can’t get any more synchronous than that!🤯

This year, you’ll really see how every single thing is going to work out in your favour. And knowing the inner work you’ve done on yourself, I’m sure you’re spiritually mature enough to sense, to notice every small nudge that tells you what you need to do at a given time😊New adventures are just around the corner, baby~!

catching stars – 5 of Pentacles

So you see, how is 5 of Pentacles appearing for a segment about you catching stars? This is, in fact, reaffirming that your dream come true will also serve as a salve for those who are wounded and hurting. You really are a medicine for this sick world. This year, you’re going to see serendipitous events and meetings what will open the door towards the physical manifestation of your dream Reality. Once you step on to the pedestal of Destiny, there’s no stopping you. You’ll be moving so fast it drives you mad!

This card is also saying you must be careful of possible leeches coming towards you; it’s best to use caution and discernment when revealing to others your plans and goals. Be stingy with information as per your gut instinct’s nudges, OK? Be mature enough to know not everybody will be happy at the prospect of your massive success that could potentially change Mankind. People get envious of such ideas, alright? Be careful not to hit the already low self-esteem of some people around you LMAO

I also feel that this year you will begin new routines that benefit your health and physical strength. If this is something you’ve been working on, you will see this year that the implementation of these routines feels more natural and effortless. You’ve managed to master your thoughts, emotions, and time management—or soon to do. Money will also come more abundantly, so all your basic needs are easily met. You’ve become a magnet for good luck—or soon to notice you’ve done so!🍀

APPLE STRUDEL🔻🧡

honey lemon juice – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

have a sweet time, honey – Priestess of Innocence

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[fic-over-cannon]

Words Left Unsaid

jason todd x f!reader

ao3 link

summary: jason todd is your childhood best friend. he dies before his Words come in, the first words his soulmate will say to him, and you have to pick up the pieces.

tags: soulmate au, major character death (temporary), grief

rated mature | wc: 8.8k

a/n: so this monster of a story was based on an ask i sent to @jasonsmirrorball a while back (don’t read for spoilers). it pretty much took on a life of its own, and now here we are nearly 9k later. it does get pretty dark in its exploration of grief, so please take care of yourselves my lovelies.

Everyone’s born with Words somewhere on their body, unreadable at first. The skin is shiny, like an old scar, the words blurry and undefined. One day, you’ll see the first words you’ll ever hear your soulmate say to you, that shiny patch of skin blooming like ink (there’s superstitions about the colour your Words fade into, as popular as astrology). The trick of the thing is, you won’t find out what your Words are until you’ve become the person who is meant to hear them. You could meet your soulmate a hundred times and not know it, not until you’ve both grown into the people you need to be. The youngest person to get their Words was seven, and the oldest 92 years young. Or so the stories go. When you’re young, still poking at your loose front tooth with your tongue, it’s a story that comforts you. It’s the story you beg your parents for before bed every night. It’s the carrot they use to get you to try new things and go new places. What if you meet your soulmate at the new movie theatre downtown? How do you know eating your veggies won’t develop you into who your soulmate needs you to be?

It’s what your mother uses to try and coax you out of the car for your first day at a new school. She’s driven you to school for your first day, a one off so she can finish up your admittance paperwork. In this moment you hate her for it. It’s February and the year is more than halfway over. The snow has melted into dirty grey slush in the streets and the pinching Mary Janes the school mandates as part of the uniform are going to provide no protection. It’s halfway through the year and you’re certain no one is going to be your friend at a new school in a new city. You’re twelve years old and to you this is the end of the world. You’re trying so hard not to cry, hugging yourself together and burying your chin in your chest.

“Come on, honey, this is a school. It’ll help you become who you need to be.”

Your mother’s voice is cajoling, trying to coax you out the same way she coaxed a stray cat into her arms. It worked on the cat, now named Haley after the comet, but it doesn’t work on you. She tries to catch your eye in the rear view mirror but you stubbornly turn your head to look out the window instead.

“Please. Work with me here. We’ll go in together, you’ll have a wonderful day and make so many friends. And after school, I’ll take you out for donuts and you can tell me all about it before your Dad gets home.”

You keep silent, continue to stare out the window at all the other kids walking into the building.

“Honey, please. Can you just do this one thing for me, please.”

She’s almost begging now, and you hate the way it makes her sound. You want to tell her how scared you are, how there’s nothing more you want to do except huddle under your covers in your unfamiliar bed and hold Haley close. But your fear is a hot ball in your chest, choking off any words that might come out. You look at her though, plead with her with your eyes to understand how much you don’t want to do this. She stares back at you, an exhausted slump to her shoulders and lines around her eyes you don’t remember being there. Slowly, you unwrap your arms from around your rib cage. Place a hand on each knobbly knee and slowly curl them into fists before nodding, once, sharply, eyes firmly fixed on the car seat in front of you. Your eyes burn, but the sigh of relief your mother heaves out is worth it.

Gotham Academy is housed in a collection of gothic stone buildings which should have been strange in a large city like Gotham but weirdly works. You just think it’s creepy. Head down, you follow your mother’s back weaving through the crowds of students. You don’t want to see the stares, but you can already feel them boring into you. Sitting in the secretary’s office, you pick at invisible lint on your knitted tights. You know your mother’s having a conversation with the secretary but it all flies over your head in shushing murmurs. Your back aches from the overstuffed chair. The Mary Janes do pinch, makes you worried that you’ve already twisted your ankles from the way they throb.

“I’ve got to get to work now sweet pea, but I just now you’re going to have a great first day. I’ll pick you up at 4:00 and we can go get those donuts okay?”

Your mother’s crouched down in front of you, eyes searching your face for any kind of reaction. She looks worried and that’s what causes you to crack. You fling yourself out of the chair and into her arms, allow yourself one great heaving sob into her shoulder. She strokes your hair and hushes you, squeezes you tight like she could make you part of her.

“Oh honey. Everything’s scary right now but I promise it’s not going to stay that way. I believe in you and you’re going to get through this.”

You draw back from her, scrub at your face with your fists. Heaving breaths don’t help but they don’t make it worse. You go with the secretary, new schedule twisted tight in your hands. She lets you discard your coat and backpack in a locker, before walking you to your new homeroom. You only hope that you’ll remember the locker combination.

You hate the way your new homeroom teacher makes you stand at the front of the room. Mr. Mulligan won’t let you sit down until you introduce yourself to the class, a thing he could have done so easily himself. Pulling at your sleeves and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, you stutter out a few basic facts. Hate the way you can feel the other students catalogue you, the way your hair doesn’t look shiny and straight like its fresh out of a salon, your too small shoes, the unfashionably long length of your skirt and the lack of designer accessories. Your cheeks and eyes are burning by the time you can slide down into your assigned seat near the back of the class. There’s only one other person sitting in your row, a boy with dark curling hair and a shy grin. He leans over to your desk just Mr. Mulligan starts the lecture.

Whispers, “Hi! My name’s Jason. I already know your name, figured if we’re going to be seat mates its only fair you know mine.”

You smile tightly and turn back to the lesson. You’re desperate not to miss anything, already feeling like you’ve been left behind. At your old school, you were in the middle of The Great Gatsby, but Gotham Academy is doing Romeo and Juliet for their seventh grade English class. You don’t have the play book, have no idea what part of the text they’re talking about, and this is the first time you’ve actually heard Shakespeare read out loud. Writing as fast you can, you try to keep up but it doesn’t matter how good your notes are if you don’t understand what the teacher’s talking about.

Usually you love English class, how uncovering symbolism and hidden meanings make you feel like you’re uncovering secret messages sent by the authors years in the past. Now it’s all going over your head and you hate it here so much already. The one class that you might have been looking forward to and you’re overwhelmed by it. You press too hard with your pencil, tear through the sheet of paper in front of you.

A notebook slides across your desk. Messy but legible writing on the first few scenes of the Act are written on it. Looking in the direction it came from, you make eye contact with Jason. He grins toothily before turning back to the front, Mr. Mulligan having moved on to a different quotation. The gesture makes your chest tight.

The rest of the class goes by uneventfully if still a challenge. There’s a short break between classes in which you frantically copy down the notes and slide the notebook back to him before your next teacher arrives. The next class isn’t so bad, still difficult and you’ve never liked math as much as you probably should, but it’s less intimidating than English. Someone must have fiddled with the thermostat during the break because the room feels colder than before. You wish you were on your old school’s schedule with shorter classes and more breaks. Sitting still for so long at your desk is making your back ache and cramp up. Math is almost over, Miss Lewis writing out the assigned homework on the board, when a wave of something comes over you. It’s an effort of will not to curl up on your desk.

The bell rings for lunch break and you just about bolt to the first bathroom you can find. Something’s wrong with you, more than just nerves over the first day. You’re cold but you’re sweating, nausea burning at the back of your throat. The ache in your back and stomach are almost unbearable, makes you want to curl into the fetal position to ward off invisible blows. Rolling down your tights in a hurry, you sit down on the cold toilet as fast as you can. Your hand is wet, and for a moment you worry that you’d lost control of your bladder on the way to the bathroom. But the stain on your hand is dark, matches the blood slick crotch of your panties. You hang your head and can feel the tears you’ve been holding onto all morning drop onto the floor. Just another thing you can’t control in this shitty new town and its stupid new school. Your first period.

The bathroom is cold, hard tile under your feet and wintery sunlight weak through the windows near the ceiling. The blood on your fingers is cold and tacky now. There’s a boundary here, between childhood and being an adult that you aren’t ready to cross yet. I want my mom, you think, only on the edge of hysteria. But she’s at work, wouldn’t be able to come if you called.

So you do what needs to be done, stop your tears as best as you can and sniffle. Wipe your face clean with the back of your sleeve and do your best to dab at your underwear with the single ply toilet paper. Layer sheets of toilet paper between your tights and underwear, build a makeshift pad in your sort-of dry underwear out of toilet paper and hope that it will hold up. Luckily you’ve escaped staining the regulation uniform skirt, so no one should be able to tell what happened. You get transfixed by the swirls of blood washing down the sink drain, hands gone numb under the stream of water. Splash cold water on your face in the vain hope it’ll calm down your puffy eyes. As ready as you can be in this situation, you eye yourself in the mirror and tell yourself to get moving before the bell for third period rings.

The boy from the back row is waiting outside the classroom for you. He looks nervous until he sees you, lights up with that shy smile again.

“Hi! I uh noticed you weren’t at lunch today so I grabbed you an apple in case you didn’t grab anything to eat.”

He’s babbling on about the cafeteria food not being that bad if you’d just try it, even though finding a table the first time can be rough. All you can do is stare at the apple in his hands, transfixed. You’re only shaken out of your stupor by the sound of him calling your name.

“So… are you going to take it? The bell’s going to ring soon and the teachers really don’t like us eating during class.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely shocked and touched.

He goes a little bashful at that, looks away as you take the apple from him. The apple’s good, sweet and crisp under your teeth. You make quick work of it in the hallway, finishing it up just as the bell rings. Jason stands right in front of you the whole time, hides you from the penetrating eyes of your classmates.

“All done? We should probably find our seats now. Monty,” and here he adopts a snooty British accent, “Archibald the Third is a real stickler for being on time. He’ll mark you late if you’re not sitting in your seat, even if you’re in the classroom.”

His impression makes you snicker and forget, just for a moment, how miserable you are. Mr. Archibald the Third is just as ridiculous as Jason’s impression of him predicted, but you get through it by making eye contact with Jason over the most ridiculous moments. Mr. Archibald really does have you call him “the Third”. It’s probably got something to do with his Words, a flowing script running vertically down the side of his face reading, “The Third, dear God how many of you are there?”. History with Mr. Archibald manages to be fun despite his absurd demeanor and your own private hurt seeming less terrible for a few scattered moments.

The final class of the day drags on, the pain in your front and back growing. Your hand moves across the page but your mind isn’t really paying attention. There’s a commotion as people gather their things and stand, already streaming out the door. You blink, stupefied, then slowly gather your things.

“Same time, same place tomorrow then?”

“—Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow Jason.”

Your mother’s waiting for you in front of the school, car idling puffs of smoke into the darkening afternoon. Your backpack lands in the back seat and you crush your face into her coat across the console. Her hands come to your back, patting and rubbing circles until your breath comes in long, even draws.

“Honey I’m so proud of you. Your first day done! Let’s go celebrate, hmm? How was it? Did you make any new friends?”

“Can we get the donuts to go? I— uh, um I— I might have started my period today?”

Your voice lifts on the end of the sentence, suddenly absurdly worried about her reaction. You needn’t have worried though.

“Oh sweet pea, on your first day too? We can go home, get you a bath and something for your cramps.”

“No, I just really want to go get donuts with you because today kind of sucked and I’ll still feel kinda shitty but at least then I get donuts while I feel bad.”

“No more swearing and we’ll get a whole box to go, okay?”

Lying in bed that night, wrapped around a hot water bottle with Haley on your feet, you think that your day wasn’t that bad. It could have been a lot worse, and Jason was surprisingly nice. You stare at the shiny patch of skin on your wrist and hope that one day it will all be worth it. You drift off to the thought of blue eyes.

For the rest of that week you join Jason at his corner in the cafeteria. Between Math and History you slowly start to get to know one another. He offers to let you borrow his notes for the upcoming test in English, gets a little sheepish when he mentions that he practically knows the content by heart anyway. Jason’s sweet and funny and by Friday you two are the best of friends.

Once your mother is confident that you can handle the commute to school on your own, she doesn’t mind if you’re home late as long as you send a text first. Something about socializing with more kids your age being good for you, not that you’re listening too distracted in the haze of victory. So the two of you hang out after school, the city your shared playground. Jason treats you to your first chili dog and laughs when you get some on your nose. In revenge, you dare him to cover his lunch in chili oil at lunch the next day. The way Mr. Archibald threatens you both with detention for being disruptive is so worth it.

It’s not until the middle of April that you get the courage to ask Jason why you. Why out of everyone in the school he chose to reach out to the new kid and make her his friend. It’s probably the most personal thing you’ve asked him yet.

“It’s ‘cause no one else would’ve. Most of the kids here, their families founded Gotham and they’re not keen on outsiders. Most of the scholarship kids, they start at the same time, form a group so the rich kids don’t pick on them so much.” He pauses here, has to look away before he goes on. “Most of the others don’t like me ‘cause I don’t really fit into either category, you know? Like my dad’s a big name in Gotham but he only just adopted me so I’m not really one the rich kids but he’s doing more than just paying my school fees. You looked just as lonely as I was,” here he turns to grin, “and I wasn’t going to give up an opportunity to make someone carry my lunch tray.”

“Hey, idiot, if I remember right it was you bringing me lunch the first time.” You shove at him indignantly, but he dodges too quickly for you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t remember, on account of me being an idiot.” He flicks you on the tip of the nose and goes running.

And then it’s on. You chase him around the park, laughing and swearing to get your revenge on him. The two of you collapse breathlessly onto a mostly dry patch of dirt under a skeletal tree. Staring up at the sky and trying to catch your breath, you feel Jason nudge at your should beside you.

“So what about you? What brought you to the happiest place on earth?”

“My dad got headhunted for a promotion. He’s researching something for Wayne Industries and all of us had to move here for it. So mom gets a new job and I get transferred to a new school.” You sit up suddenly, look down at Jason lying in the grass. “Promise not to tell anyone?” You wait for him to nod first before continuing. “I only got into Gotham Academy because of my dad. I heard him and my mom arguing about it; he made it part of his contract that I’d get to go to school there if he accepted the job.”

“So? I’m only at GA because of my dad too. You think a kid from Crime Alley gets to go to private school without a little nepotism?”

You slump back down on to the grass, stretch a hand out to the sky and look up at it.

“To nepotism I guess.”

A hand reaches up to the sky next to yours. Slowly, ever so slowly he reaches a pinky out and links it with yours.

“To two misfits only here because of nepotism.”

School lets out in June, the city air ridiculously hot and humid. You can’t say that you’ve made any good friends outside of Jason, but there’s some girls you say hello to in the halls. You mourn not being able to see Jason everyday, but the plans you have to meet up are enough to soothe the ache.

He takes you to an arcade first, the two of you spending hours trying to beat each other at Pac Man. Tired but happy you split a basket of fries at the attached cafeteria. You’re enjoying the greasy fried goodness of the snack but you notice Jason isn’t reaching for the basket as quickly as you are. Looking over at him, you notice him staring at a pair of brothers playing a game. The younger whoops, jumps up and down in excitement. The older one ruffles his brother’s hair and challenges him to a new round. You toss a fry in Jason’s direction, surprised when he actually manages to catch it.

“You good?”

“—Yeah. It’s just, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it? But I kind of have an older brother and he was supposed to take me to the arcade last weekend but he got in a fight with Dad and just left.”

“That’s a real dick move, ditching you over his issues.” At that, Jason breaks out in hysterical laughter, almost choking on the fry in his mouth. There are tears in his eyes by the time he stops coughing but he looks slightly less like a kicked puppy.

“It really, really was. You don’t know how much it was.”

Happy that the mood has lifted, the two of you finish off the basket of fries. You challenge Jason to Dance Dance Revolution and he wipes the floor with you. He’s way more athletic than you’d expected from him. The two of you part ways happy, already planning your next hang out. It is enough.

You meet up almost every week that summer. Jason shows you the Gotham he knows, little hidden gems only locals know about. A movie theatre that only shows movies made before 1980, a diner with the best milkshakes you’ve ever tasted, the best places in the public library to read undisturbed. Teaches you about the safest places to evacuate when disaster hits, which parts of the city are most dangerous. The park and its chili dog stand quickly become a favourite for you, a place to just hang out without any responsibilities. It also becomes a kind of confessional of sorts, where you end up telling each other your worst fears and secret hopes.

You confess once, after riding out your first Rogue attack with your fingers buried in Jason’s T-shirt, that you’re worried you’ll never feel at home again. That you can never go back now to your old house and feel at home there now, but that Gotham still feels too alien to be called home yet. Your darkest fear, that you’ll end up alone one day, deserted by everyone that you know and love. Jason tells you about his fears that one day all of this, Bruce and Alfred, the manor, school, will disappear one day. That the big brother he looks up to will never start to like him. Every time the two of you bare your souls to each other, Jason will hook his pinky over yours and squeeze. It’s a friendship built on shared secrets, on fears assuaged, and worries made better.

Your last year of middle school is largely uneventful. You got to classes, have lunch with Jason, hang out after class with Jason, text Jason. You get into a routine and that brings you comfort. There’s a slight period of awkwardness right before the 8th grade formal. A weird tension envelopes you both, the nebulous question of if you’re going together hanging over you. You don’t like it, the way Jason seems almost hesitant in all your conversations these days. It sets your teeth to itching and you can’t stand it anymore.

Slamming down your textbook, you say “Okay that’s it. I can’t stand whatever this is. You and I are going to the formal as friends. We’ll get all dressed up and if it’s lame we can ditch and go get Batburgers.”

“Oh thank God. I didn’t want to say anything in case it made it awkward but then it was just getting more awkward and then I just didn’t know what to do.”

The party is lame, but the burgers make up for it. Your dress is nice though. Your mother helped you pick it out, the fitted bodice and loose swing of the skirt making you feel passably pretty. It’s been hard to feel pretty with the way your body’s changed over the year, hips widening and chest starting to grow in ways you can’t predict. Jason cleans up nice, though whoever slicked back his hair went overboard on the gel. You pose for a picture all dressed up together, faces pulled into silly expressions, your burgers held in front of you like trophies. You pin a copy of the photo up in your bedroom. It makes you smile every time you see it, something warm in your chest.

The first day of high school brings back those first day jitters. You’re not even transferring schools, just switching to a different building and still your palms are sweating. It’s not until you see Jason, sitting in the back row with an empty seat behind him that you can release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s different teachers and different subjects, but in some ways it’s like the day you met again. Scribbling notes until your hands cramp, Jason passing you notes in class, struggling to keep up with what the teachers are saying. At lunch, you and Jason even split an apple between you. It’s terrifying and familiar and all the more bearable because you aren’t going through it alone.

High school is different. Everyone’s more aware of each other in ways they weren’t in middle school. Girls wear brighter lip glosses and flaunt the shiny spaces where their marks will come in. Boys douse themselves in too much body spray and start eyeing up anything that moves. But through out it all, your friendship remains the same. Something about high school solidifies things, has you go from You and Jason to YouandJason. At school you’re a unit, almost impossible to think of you as separate beings. After school, you still spend time together, still explore the city, still message all the time. But you’ve still never been to each other’s houses. Never met each other’s families yet.

Jason offers, once, to have you over to the manor during the winter break, but you’re not keen on it. Crinkle up your nose and ask to think about it.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you over the holiday, or meet your family Jason. It’s just that I kind of like the way things are? My family knows that you’re my best friend, they’ve seen pictures of us, but the way things are now, you’re still entirely mine. Our friendship’s just for us. Meeting your family kind of changes that.”

“I like us being us. But would it really be that different to come hang out for a few hours? You could come over when Dad’s out and it’d just be me and Alfred.”

Eventually you agree, spend an afternoon with Jason at the manor to cram for your next round of tests. Mr. Pennyworth is lovely, keeps bringing snacks up to the library as an excuse to check up on you. Bent over your books, you miss the significant looks Alfred is sending Jason over your head and the blush that lights up his face in response. Mr. Wayne is thankfully not home. You’re not sure you could have handled meeting Jason’s grandfather and father in the same visit.

Jason makes it over to your apartment a few times over the spring semester. Your father’s always working, but your mother likes him well enough. She makes him stay over for dinner, won’t let him leave without feeding him first. She calls him a nice boy and tells him to come back any time. Still, you two prefer going out to coffee shops or the library to hang out, uninterrupted by well-meaning adults.

It’s on one of those summer nights, the two of you some of the last people in the public library, that the subject of your Words comes up. The skin across your left wrist catches the warm light of the lamps in a way that’s distracting. You’re startled by the feeling of fingers tracing featherlight over still-shiny skin.

“You ever wonder it about it sometimes? What it’ll say or who’ll say it?” The tone is unreadable but Jason’s voice is above the whisper he usually uses in the library, but with so few people around you figure there’s no harm in mimicking his volume.

“I used to. I was obsessed with Words when I was little. Couldn’t go to sleep without hearing about them as a bed time story.”

“Used to?” And Jason’s fingers are still there, drawing maddening little patterns across the thin skin of your wrist.

“Well, I’ve got other things to think about now, things that are actually within my control.”

Jason presses down, gently, with the broad of his thumb on your pulse. You snatch back your wrist, cradle it to your chest, uncertain of how intimate that gesture felt.

“Fair’s fair. I showed you mine, now you’ve gotta show me yours.” Your tone is teasing, trying to capture the earlier lightness of the afternoon.

“Oh I do, do I?”

He reaches for the top button on his uniform button down, starts undoing two more. Horrified, you reach across the table and grab at his hands.

“What are you doing?! You can’t just go around stripping in public!” Your hissed whisper may not have been said at all for all the impact it makes. Jason shakes off your hands and goes back to undoing his shirt.

“Not all of us are blessed with easily accessible Words. Relax, I just have to get the shirt wide enough to show how far the Words will go.”

Across his collarbone is a thin strip of shiny skin, reaching from one side of his neck to the other like a necklace. Whatever it will say looks pretty lengthy for someone’s Words. Mesmerized, you reach out to trace it with your fingertips. Jason shifts back before you can make contact.

“Gotta buy me dinner first sweetheart. I’m a classy lady like that.”

You flush at the term of endearment, but cover it with indignation.

“Hey! What do you call the tacos I bought for us yesterday?”

He laughs it off and the tense moment is broken. You pack up your things, smiling at the ground. You like the way sweetheart sounds coming from Jason, not that you’d give him that to tease you with. Despite how much you tell each other, there’s one secret you haven’t told him yet. That privately you hope your Words will be his. It’s so easy to fall in love with Jason, or at least what passes for love at this age. The light in his eyes when he rants about the latest book he’s read, when he shares the biscuits Alfred packs for him, the way he listens to you so intently even if he doesn’t have all the answers. You can admit to yourself that you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend, but never out loud. Your friendship is one of the most important things in your life and you are terrified of destroying it.

You don’t see Jason much after that, that summer. Your texts and calls still get answered, but he’s frustratingly vague about meeting up. He says that his dad has him in a kind of summer school, wants him to learn from private tutors before school starts up in the Fall again. Asking about what it is that he’s supposed to learn (his marks are already incredibly good) makes him cagey about it. You don’t want to push, but it feels like he’s pulling away from you. Phone calls get shorter, sentences more clipped. Your offers to just drop by the manor to see him get turned down automatically. It’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing him since you’ve met. You’re terrified that he’s done with you. That for some unnameable reason he’s decided to end your years of friendship and there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. Gotham seems colder without Jason at your side, the dangers more obvious and your usual haunts less welcoming.

Finally, after nearly two months you manage to pin him down, get him to agree to meet the day after his birthday. Your heart is in your mouth as you wait for him on a bench in the park. There’s a trickle of sweat running down your back. It’s a hot day but the park is a lush green, an after effect from an Ivy attack the night before. You release your grip on your present for Jason, smooth the envelope and hope you didn’t crease it with your sweaty fingers. A voice is calling your name.

Jason’s been changed by the weeks apart. He’s a few inches taller now, filled out in the shoulders more. You have to crane your neck back to see his face. The anxiety in you is reflected in his face, the way he nervously runs his fingers through his hair, his darting eyes. Uncertain how to proceed, you thrust the envelope out between you.

“Happy Birthday.”

“I— thank you.”

There’s silence again, and the awkwardness between you is a tangible thing. It’s worse than it was in eighth grade only this time you don’t know how to bridge the gap. You look down at your shoes, the toes scuffed.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” It comes out of him in a rush. “I’ve been a really shitty friend lately. Just, all summer my dad’s been on me about studying with these private tutors except they’re all friends with Dick so nothing I do can ever be good enough in comparison and every day I’ve felt like crap but I didn’t want you to see me like this which only made me feel worse ‘cause then I basically had to avoid you all the time which is the exact opposite of what I wanted to do and all I wanted to do was have you tell me there’s nothing wrong with me and they can all go kick dirt but then I’d have to talk to you about it which I wasn’t ‘cause I was already embarrassed.” He has to pause here to catch his breath, words running together at the speed which he was going.

“You planning to breathe any time soon?”

He deflates, collapses onto the bench next to you, an arm tucked around his right side awkwardly holding the card so it doesn’t get crushed. You sigh, heavily.

“I thought you didn’t want to be friends anymore.” Your confession is barely above a whisper. You can’t even look at him as you say it.

“I didn’t— I wouldn’t. I need you to know that I never, ever don’t want to be your friend okay? I was an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Promise not to cut me out again and that you won’t take out your own issues on our friendship, and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“Pinky promise.”

Jason places the card in his lap, goes to link your fingers together, then winces at the movement of his arm. Suddenly sirens are going off in your brain.

“What’s wrong with your side?”

“Nothing, must have just pulled a muscle or something.” He tries to laugh it off nervously, but you can tell when he’s lying. His eyes dart to the left over your head, knee bounces almost imperceptibly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you know he’s not telling you the truth.

“You can’t even go a full minute without cutting me out! Jason, I know something is wrong. Now tell me.”

He hesitates, and you’ve had it with the lies and the avoidance and the being kept in the dark. You fingers go to the hem of his shirt and you start tugging.

“Hey! Wh-what are you doing?”

He tries to squirm away, batting at your hands but you get his shirt up far enough to see the bruise on his ribs in the shape of a boot. It’s purple going a sickly yellow, mottled and stark against the dips of his ribs. You can feel all the blood drain from your face. Jason’s pushed up against the far side of the bench, pulling his shirt down with shaking hands.

“Jason. Jason if someone is hurting you, you need to tell someone. If it's your dad or one of the tutors, we can find someone to tell together.”

“No one— no one’s hurting me, all right? I just didn’t get out of the way fast enough during a Rogue attack. I didn’t want to worry you, that’s all. No one’s abusing me, okay?”

“But you’d tell me if they were?”

“I tell you everything important.”

It’s not enough, not nearly for you. From the look in his eyes Jason knows this too, but its all he’s willing to give. There’s a crossroads in your relationship here, a road where you push and push until you get the full story but shatter the tattered strands of your friendship or you accept that you’ll never have all of Jason but maybe your friendship will survive. So you do what needs to be done.

“Okay. If you say that’s what happened then I trust you.”

It’s a low blow, to twist your trust in him like a knife, but it’s your only way to express your frustration with him. You gesture to the envelope, fishing around to change the subject.

“So you going to open that or what?”

And just like that, there’s a new normal. You see Jason everyday in class but he begs off your after school hangouts as often as you two actually spend time together. Conversation is stilted, hidden undercurrents to them of subjects neither one of you wants to address. You’re wary, suspicious of every bump and bruise Jason shows up with. The ease to your friendship has gone, disappeared to the realm of the past.

At the end of October, Jason becomes obsessed with the news. Keeps checking headlines and obituaries, fearful like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. The death of Felipe Garzonas makes the news and the tension in Jason ratchets up. He’s irritable, stops paying attention in classes, blows up when you try to feel out what’s wrong. He’s apologetic every time, promises it won’t happen again until you eventually stop trying to ask questions. Hope that your presence is enough to steady him through whatever it is that is tormenting him.

He asks you once, if you’d believe in his word, no matter what the evidence of something told you otherwise. You tell him you would, always, but that answer doesn’t seem to make a difference.

Winter break comes and goes, without an invitation to visit this time. If anything, Jason comes back more irritable and closed lipped. Mutters something about a fight over Christmas dinner, his brother and Bruce clashing over something. You’re worried about him all the time now. He’s more reckless with himself, won’t look before crossing the road, reacts aggressively to every perceived challenge, throws things when he gets frustrated. He’s changing into someone you don’t recognize in front of your eyes.

April comes and there’s a new light in his eyes. It’s manic and hopeful and the first emotion you’ve seen in him other than fear in months. He won’t tell you what it is, just that there’s something new he’s found out, something about his mother. This time you hope, fingers crossed and a wish on every star that whatever has brought him this hope won’t hurt him.

On Monday, Jason doesn’t come to school. He doesn’t answer your messages or pick up any of your calls. Even when he’s been out sick he at least lets you know. On Tuesday you get called into the office in the middle of first period. You haven’t been back to the secretary’s office since the day you enrolled. The seats are still as overstuffed as you remember. The secretary is the same, a few more grey streaks in her perfectly set hair. Her eyes are red, and she’s got one of those old fashioned handkerchiefs in her hands.

“I’ve got some bad news honey, and I— I think it would be best if you sit down for it.”

“Oh— will this take long? Only I got pulled out of class and we’re reviewing for the exam next week.”

“Oh honey.” She has to pause to dab at her eyes before continuing. “You’re going to be excused from all exams next week, okay? I need you to know that the school will do whatever we can to support you through this.”

Now, now you are scared. “Support me through what? It’s not my mom is it?”

“Honey it’s Jason, Jason Todd. I’m so sorry but he passed away yesterday. I’ve contacted your parents and your mother is on the way to come pick you up.”

Her words don’t make any sense.

“But he can’t be. I saw him on Saturday. There’s been a mistake. He’s not dead.” Your legs don’t work anymore and you hit the couch, hard, sliding off the overstuffed pillows to kneel on the floor. You don’t feel any of it. There’s copper in your mouth, you must have bitten your tongue on the way down but you can’t feel it. There’s movement in your peripheries, and your mother crouches down into your field of vision.

“Mom, mom they made a mistake. She’s— she’s saying that Jason’s dead, but he can’t be. Mom he’s not dead.”

“Sweet pea, I’m so, so sorry. It’s been on the news all morning.”

It rips through you then, grief. Sobs shake your whole body, your mother doing her best to hold you together. There’s a roaring in your ears like you’re caught in a vacuum. You can’t see through the tears. Your body is trembling violently and you can’t care enough to try and stop it. Nothing matters anymore. Jason’s dead.

To get to the car, your mother has to half carry you. There’s no point in moving. You’re not sure how you end up in your bed at home but you do. You don’t sleep but you aren’t really awake either. The tears don’t stop coming. You’re nothing but an open wound, not even really a whole person. The world’s burned down to ash and you’re just floating through it. You know your parents come in to talk to you, can hear the murmur of their voices but you don’t care. There’s food put in front of you but it holds no interest to you. You might have had sips of water, maybe some broth but you don’t remember and you don’t care. The only thing you really register is Haley, nestling up to you and making biscuits with his paws in your blankets.

Jason’s funeral is on Friday and you can’t get out of bed to go. Jason’s not in that coffin, not really. He won’t be there and so you won’t be. Jason’s never coming home. Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead plays on a loop. You never got to tell him. He died without knowing you loved him. His death has ripped you open like nothing ever has before, regret a constant salt in the wound. He never told you that he was thinking of leaving, of going anywhere. It feels wrong at this point, to interrupt his family in their grief, another stranger claiming to have known their son. After all, how well did you really know him if you didn’t even know he was going to leave?

Grief swallows you whole, but over time you learn to live with it. Days blur together. The tears dry up but the not caring doesn’t. Inside of your head is a wall, separating you from the reality of a world without Jason. You’re wrapped in wool and safe behind glass, unable to care about anything. It’s easier that way.

The school passes you for the year, citing personal tragedy, and you don’t care. Summer comes and the only difference is that your mother comes in and throws your windows open every morning. It’s Jason’s birthday soon, too soon. He’ll never be sixteen but you will be. He’ll never have his Words come in. He’ll never get the chance to do all the things he talked about, make Gotham a better place, travel the world. But you can.

It makes no sense to live for a dead boy but it’s all you’ve got. So you do what you have to do. It gets you to leave your bed for the first time in months. To start eating again, even if there’s no taste to the food in your mouth. To shower and take care of yourself for the first time in ages. Your room is clean for the first time in months and the first thing you do is take down your photograph from the 8th grade formal and put it away in a desk drawer.

By September, you have gathered yourself enough to return to school despite the worried looks of your family. It is hard, the hardest thing you have ever done but you do it for the boy that will never graduate high school. You sit by yourself at your desk, you eat lunch by yourself, you go straight home after class without any detours. The school play this year is Romeo and Juliet. You take home the sign up flyer and consider it, hard. In the end you decide to leave it. Jason may have always wanted to try out for the play but you won’t survive torturing yourself with this. On opening night you tell your parents you’re going to see it and get drunk on the gymnasium roof.

You make it through your last two years of high school a ghost. Administration tries to pressure you into meeting with a therapist but you refuse. You don’t want to experience your grief at all. Numbness is the only way you are going to survive this, your new reality. You do take them up on their suggestion of volunteering. Working with the Martha Wayne Foundation for Underprivileged Children gives you a sense of purpose. Of helping other Crime Alley kids without the benefit of nepotism to get them into places like Gotham Academy. It stokes the first emotion in you other than numbness, and that’s rage for all the ways in which these kids have been failed.

You accept a full scholarship to Gotham University. Your parents couldn’t be more proud of your achievement but you can barely muster the energy to smile. Keep up the volunteer work while rushing through your degree in two years instead of four. With nothing else to drive you, you’ve got nothing but time for school. The Martha Wayne Foundation offers you a position in fundraising, and you accept. It’s not what you envisioned for yourself, but it’s a path forward with purpose.

You move out, into your own apartment in an area that’s probably too dangerous for a girl of your age but you can’t stand to be at home anymore. The job consumes your life and you are grateful for it. It’s important work, even if some of the policy meetings on accepting donations from the Red Hood make you want to fall asleep. You make use of your Gotham Prep connections, rubbing elbows with the rich for just as long as it takes to pry open their wallets. It’s ridiculous but the higher ups trot you out to entertain at fundraising events, a pretty young face to pull in more donors. Occasionally you see Bruce, or Dick, or the newest ward Tim at functions, always across the room before you quickly excuse yourself. The numbness carries you through your life but there are limits to it and you’re not eager to test them.

Even five years later, you can’t go back to the park. You’ve never had another chili dog, though you’ll hire the vendor to cater community events. You’ve worked your way back into the public library, but still avoid the alcove on the second floor in the encyclopedia section. There’s a handful of arcade tokens in a plastic bag in your apartment still unused. Batburger is still your favourite, but you still can’t set foot in the location nearest to the Academy.

You keep yourself so busy that when your Words come in, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know…”, you barely give it a thought, just pulling the cuff of your shirt lower to cover your wrist. Carry on with the rest of your morning routine and head into the office. From that point on, your sleeves are always long and your gala outfits gain elbow length opera gloves. You never bother trying to read the rest of it. It doesn’t matter anymore.

It’s a cold February morning. The bus broke down two stops from the office and now you have to walk the rest of the way in the snow. Standing at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change, you pass the time by scanning the headlines on the nearest newsstand. “Lost Wayne son found alive” screams out at you, tearing into your heart bloody. You lose grip of your work bag, but manage not to lose your mind in the street. Picking your bag up out of the slush, you run into the nearest bodega bathroom and lock the door with trembling hands. Shove a fist into your mouth and scream as the tears pour down your face. You’re shaking, worse than you were all those years ago. Snot blocks your nose and you have to stop screaming to breathe. So you do what needs to be done. Fumbling with your coat pocket, you pull out your phone and call the office, call out sick. It’s the only time you’ve done it in all the time your supervisor has known you but the tremor in your voice and frequent sniffles must alarm her enough.

In a fog, you somehow make it from the bodega bathroom to the front gate of Wayne manor. It doesn’t look like it’s changed at all since your last visit over five years ago, except for the heaving mass of press. You circle round the property and enter through the bushes, the way Jason showed you years ago on a tour of the property. You slip on the snow, fall to your knees but get back up. This is the only thing that matters now. The back door has an elaborate knocker that takes both of your hands to lift. It takes what feels like ages for someone to answer the door. It’s poor Mr. Pennyworth, looking more ruffled than you’ve ever seen him. You’re indescribably rude to the poor man, pushing right past him and into the building. Only one thing matters now and your vision has narrowed out anything outside of achieving your goal.

There’s voices coming from somewhere inside, up the stairs and in the direction of the library. A hand, probably Mr. Pennyworth’s, tries to grab at your wrist but you’re too quick for that. You’re running now, clutching at the bannister as though it will pull you up the stairs faster. A shout from behind and the tone of the voices change, a door slamming in the distance. Finally, finally you reach the library but a body tries to come between you, stopping you in your tracks. Years of grief, anger, and battered hope come roaring through you at the thought of being denied seeing Jason, alive after all this time.

Your voice when it leaves you is dangerously low. “Dick, I presume? You don’t know me, and I’ve heard very little about you from Jason and what I did hear I didn’t like. I’m going to make this simple.” The door behind him cracks open, but you soldier on anyway. “Jason Todd was my best friend and first love.” The body stiffens, but that doesn’t matter in this moment. “You are going to step aside and-” anything else doesn’t matter because a door is thrown open and there is Jason.

Eyes wild, a good deal older and more scarred than before, but he’s alive. And then nothing else matters but the feel of his arms warm around you, the imprint of his jacket on your face, the smell of him largely unchanged. He’s alive and he’s real and you can touch him. You draw back to look at him, drink in the sharpened angle of his jaw, the blue-green of his eyes, the white streak in his hair. He’s grown taller and broader than he had over that wretched summer so many years ago. What catches your eye is the writing at the hollow of his throat, a stark black spreading across his collarbones exposed by the v of his t-shirt. Jason Todd was my best friend and first love, it reads.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know you felt the same.” He says and your wrist starts to burn.

[sagelasters]

Imagination was always considered the opposite of reality, we learnt to distinguish the two at a young age. Even though imagination and reality are really twins of different faces in the same coin, made from the same flame. Say, we use the limited logic this world has taught us; even imagination is the mother of creations, and this is most likely because someone had to envision how to make an air conditioner. The only thing that comes before imagination is consciousness, which is something you and I both have, and it’s a tool that’s not utilized as often. 

Philosopher Mary Shepherd emphasized on the idea that there must be a start to everything, a sudden movement in nothingness before something can truly “exist”. Which is a vague point but really, it made sense in this context – imagination is the start to everything. Just by painting a picture in your head, it breathes life into the knowledge that your imagination exists in another realm.  If we combine that with the law of assumption, it makes an incredibly powerful mixing pot. What exists in your mind can and will reflect into physicality, the self is the first movement and starting of an existence, but only if you allow it. 

Lack is an illusion but it is there to help you realize what you want, therefore is the first act into actual manifestation. When you stop perceiving lack as something negative, you’ll start to observe it as a beneficialness, thus you won’t put it on a pedestal. Unfortunate circumstances can be bent to our will, if we so much as imagine that we’re living a completely different life. Neville had to experience yearning for return, for him to realize that he didn’t want to fight in the war. 

Lack → Realization → Imagination → “Reality”

In Law of Assumption and Dualism, the mind and body are two separate matters that can be distinguishable. Emotions do not affect the process of manifestation, it can influence imaginations but with little effect, unless you (the self, the soul) allows yourself to be caged in your own body. This is why many loa bloggers tell you that it is okay to feel negative emotions, as long as you don’t let it dictate what your reality looks like. Stick to the inner-self perception of reality and keep persisting till the birth of physicality. It doesn’t matter what the body senses and sees, it is no longer your reality, a completely separate nature. Although do what you must while also keep sticking to the inner reality. 

With such an incredible tool in your possession, why not cultivate it?

[girlystories]

Two sides on the same coin

— pairings: Joseph Descamps x ex-rebellious reader

summary: you get expelled from your all girls school after an incident you get yourself into. cutting all ties with your troublesome friends, your parents send you to voltaire lycée in hopes you change your ways. an annoying prick, though, gets in the way of that, making you constantly on the verge of breaking your promise to your parents.

additional warnings: underage smoking, usage of foul language, mention of boobs ig?

authors note: very creative chapter title, ik. also really sorry for this late update, but i honestly don't haven't any excuse. it's finally here so I hope you enjoy. also i added a character from another movie cuz i can.

words: 3.9k

Chapter 1: The bastard with the dumb glasses

[Name] [Last Name] certainly wasn't expecting her first day to occur like this.

She fell down on her knees next to the wounded boy, who held on his left eye. He was whimpering in pain, making it obvious the punch he took to the face was serious.

Placing a hand on his back, she tried to receive any attention from him. She called out his name but didn't get an answer. Blood was dripping from between his fingers and his groaning increased before she was pulled away from him.

...

Lumière Lycée was nothing but a memory now, all what happened there only for the driven girl to want go remember, whenever she even wanted to. If she wanted to. She couldn't lie to herself and say it was a good time. On the contrary, it was a living hell for her. It wasn't a catholic school, but it was somehow aiming towards it.

She'd gotten in trouble one, two, three, or more times. Times she couldn't even keep track of.

Not that it even mattered now. No one would know of her past, her previous troublesome and somewhat rebellious nature in a place for her old school and only herself. It was a year ago from now, certainly she'd have changed from then. Or, in better words, she wanted to mask it deep inside. She promised it to her parents.

Moving schools meant moving overall, but she was sure she'd get used to the new environment sooner or later. Voltaire Lycée, the only academy daring to take things further and expand into a mixed school containing both boys and girls. Such a big change, things were seemingly passing so fast. It was the only thing the newspapers and radio were discussing about all day long for the past three days.

She was now brushing her hair, styling it while in her bathrobe. She added a small touch of makeup on her lashes, in a effort not to seem as tired from sleeping late the earlier day. Her anxiety forbid her from it. To bring some sort of color to her lips, she applied some chapstick. She didn't want to impress anybody, but didn't want to stand out by appearing like some sort of messy girl. That'd make a horrible impression. She opted to blend in with everybody else, which wasn't as easy since she was expected as one of the other few new girls. She'd stand out either way. How many girls would even attend that school anyway?

Either way, she hoped for a change. From having more than fifty absences, five to nine out of twelve marks, constantly snapping at her other classmates and breaking into fights, to becoming a lady with a future ahead of her.

There was a knock on her bedroom door, "[Name]," a soft voice called from behind it, "are you ready yet? Your father could give you a ride to school."

"No, it's okay," she got up from her chair, giving a last look at herself from her mirror. "I'd lather walk on my first day."

Her mother nodded and left without a word, leaving her to finish in getting ready.

[Name] opened her wardrobe, inspecting her clothes and in the end decided upon a matching set of a top and short skirt that she tried out the day before. Before leaving her room she wore her pair of Mary-Jane's.

She headed to her kitchen, where her parents were already awake, eating their breakfast before work. She took a seat and took a sip of her prepared coffe. "Good morning," she said.

Her father swallowed his own coffe before speaking, "Good morning. How do you feel about your new school?"

"Rather anxious."

"No wonder," her mother said. "A mixed school? It's a much troublesome shift from what we're used too. Wouldn't you agree, dear?"

Her dad finished his coffe, placing his mug down. "Well, we do what we can do. If only you would behave, [Name]."

"[Father name], " her mother glanced at him with knotted brows. "Don't start again."

He ignored her warnings, "Now make sure to get your shit together or else things will be really complicated. I'm saying this from the bottom of my heart."

"I know," [Name] simply said.

Her mother still kept an eye on her husband and sighed, turning her attention at her daughter. "Now you have a nice day, okay? Be home right after school or if you want stop by the bakery."

[Name] finished her butter bread, taking her bag as she got up and went to the front door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she got interrupted. Internally groaning, she went back and kissed her parents on the cheek.

"Alright, bye," she finally said and left.

Since it was still early, she stopped at her neighborhood supermarket to buy herself a pack of Gauloises, thanking the owner and lighting one while on her way. Just then she realized she didn't know the way.

Minutes later she regretted not accepting her parents' offer to drive her to school. Cursing under her breath at her possibility of being late on her first day, she kept her fast pase as she took a turn on the street she thought the school was located.

To her utter luck, she was right. When she noticed the front gate inspector closing the door she jogged there yelling for him stop. He rose his head towards her, earning his attention.

He threw his cigarette, chuckling softly. "Lucky for you, it's your first day, miss, otherwise I'd have left you locked outside," he said and opened the gate for her.

"Sorry, it won't happen again..." she breathed out.

"Well, they haven't made their way inside. Mr. Belanger is giving a speech."

"Thanks," she said and walked hurrily where everyone stood.

On top of the building's stairs stood the school staff, the students surprisingly listening from bellow. She shoved herself between the crowd to catch a word he was saying.

"-Gentlemen, I expect you to...to be as polite, respectful, magnanimous and dignified as I know you can...when on your best behavior."

"Who is that?" she asked herself.

"The school's Dean," she wasn't really expecting an answer, yet a guy replied from beside her.

She nodded at him, staying silent for a moment before talking again. "Damn, I don't even know in what class I am."

"Don't worry. They'll call your name anyway."

Just then, a woman walked forward, holding a sheet or paper. "I'll now be calling the first-year's, then proceed the second year's due to the addition of female students."

"Just like that," he smirked and Mr. Bluebeard began reading the paper.

[Name] breathed out a sigh of relief. "Good. Because I was afraid of almost getting detention from being late."

He let out a laugh, "On your first day? There's no way a person could achieve that record. Not even me. I can assure you I've tried. I don't think you get detention from being late."

"No," she said. "I said almost. Wait, what do you mean y-"

The call of her name interrupted her question.

"That's your name, right? Seems like you're in class 1B."

"Oh, yeah," she said looking as some other students walked up the starts when their names were called. "See you."

She took a seat behind two girls, and as she did so smiled at them when they seemed to acknowledged her. Little by little everyone gathered in class, each taking their seats.

The woman that was calling out the students from before walked in. "I am Mrs. Giraud, your homeroom teacher."

Then, a girl with blonde hair entered the class, eyeing the empty seats anxiously. She had her hair styled with a headband that matched her dress which was beautifully complimenting her figure. It was no surprise everyone was looking at her with either admiration or a tint of desire.

She took a seat at a desk in the front, and [Name] felt somehow disappointed she didn't choose to sit next to her instead.

Mrs. Giraud noticed her gesture. "What's your name miss?"

She got up from her seat, holding her hands together politely. "Annick Sabiani."

"Where do you think you are, miss Sabiani?"

She didn't get enough time to respond at her question.

"Do you think it's okay to sit next to a boy?" she asked sternly. "Get your things."

She began doing so, but Mrs. Giraud interrupted her again. "No. You," she pointed towards the boy next to her. He looked at her for a moment and she continued, "Get up. Go sit in the back."

"But I can't see from there."

"Back row, now," she then looked at [Name], realizing she failed in noticing her presence before. "And what's your name, miss?"

She got up, awkwardly looking around the class and trying to ignore the stares. "[Name] [Last name]."

"You sit in the front."

She gathered her bag and did as she was told, still feeling the stares accompanied with whistling sounds and whispers. The boy tried to do the same, but someone put his foot in the way. That made him trip and almost fall, the group of boys laughing and making pig noises. "It's not your day, piggy."

The teacher did nothing about it, only complaining about being interrupted. "Quiet! As I was saying... Mrs. Giraud, with a "D" as in "discipline.""

[Name] wasn't listening what she was saying anymore, glancing at the person who was at fault of tripping the poor guy. He was grinning at his friend beside him, finding it wholehearted hilarious, like it was comedy gold. He fixed his glasses before he pretending he was paying attention to Mrs. Giraud. Instead he wrote a note and showed it next to him, the duo starting cackling quietly.

Next period was Latin, where she was met with Mr. Douillard. She ultimately ended up not having a really good idea about him, earning already a bad impression by him ignoring the girls when they raised their hand. She grew more and more annoyed when he pretended not to noticed her and she just stopped trying. Sabiani did not back down, though. Still, Mr. Douillard picked the only guy that had raised his hand.

"I think she raised her hand," the same guy with the glasses pointed out in a snarky tone. He pressed his lips together to hold himself from laughing.

Much to the teachers dismay of having to pick a girl student, he side-eyed Sabiani. "Indeed. So?"

She pushed her chair back, fixing her dress. "The Romans welcome Horatio with joy and congratulations and escort him to his house."

"The Romans "cheer" Horatio," he corrected, obviously not wanting to lower to the level of ever praising a girl, wanting to dismiss their existence entirely. "Can you conjugate the verb "ovare"?"

As Sabiani was answering, [Name] noticed the guy from before writing something on a paper, giving it to the person next to him and whispering something. The note was passed down until the teacher noticed.

"Give me that," he ordered, interrupting Sabiani.

The poor guy sighed and stood up walking up to the teacher and handing the note. From where [Name] sat she couldn't see anything but by the expression of Mr. Douillard she could tell it wasn't good.

The unlucky person sighed and stood up walking up to the teacher and handing the note. [Name] knew of him. He was Alain Laubrac, a guy who happened to be in the same gang she used to hang out last year. She stopped hanging out with them after her expulsion, when she was grounded all summer, cutting all ties with them thankfully. She hadn't spoke to him since like the rest. From where she sat she couldn't see anything but by the expression of Mr. Douillard she could tell it wasn't good.

"Think this is funny?"

"It wasn't me."

"Who is responsible for this masterpiece?"

No answer. The guy who drew it pretended he didn't know a thing, placing his pen under his bottom lip.

"Your name?"

"It wasn't me," Alain repeated.

"'It wasn't me'," Mr. Douillard sighed, "All culprits have the same name. They must be related. Okay, Mr. 'It wasn't me'...'"

"My name is Laubrac," he corrected.

"Are you the boy from the foster care?"

The whole class chuckled at that.

"Some nobody's son's trying to graduate? How amusing. Didn't anyone teach you discipline in the care system? I won't let a bastard disrupt my class. Get out."

"But he didn't do anything!" a girl with blond pigtails protested.

"Nobody taught you to raise your hand in your girls' school, Miss Magnan? Or maybe you think you have a free pass because your uncle is the Dean," the teacher mocked, hitting the paper on his palm. "Escort your new friend to your uncle's office. He'll give you detention too."

They both left the room with their heads low, the class filled with silence.

[Name] bit the inside of her mouth, raising a hand.

"Yes, miss?" the teacher complained.

"With all due respect, sir, but you're being really unfair," she said. Mr. Douillard was taked aback and she continued before he interrupted. "It was Picasso over there who did it," she eyed the glasses-guy from the back.

The smile he wore dissappeared, now glaring at her and preparing to argue something back.

"You've got a nerve talking to me like that, miss [Last Name]," the teacher said. "Don't think I haven't been informed of your performance in your past school. I'm not afraid to get you expelled here too."

The class suddenly filled with murmurs.

"Unless you want detention as well I advice you to sit back down."

She looked down and without having anything else to say she sat on her chair. Her grip on her pen tightened when she looked back and seeing the guy still stare at her, slowly forming a winning smirk.

Bastard, she thought.

Finally lunch came, and she exhaled a sigh of relief as she stood up from her seat, an instant need to stretch her body overtaking her. She only wanted to smoke as soon as possible, the necessity of nicotine calling out to her from not being present for a while. She closed her notebook and walked out the classroom as soon as there was space for her to walk through the students.

She walked down the big row of starts, avoiding in pushing the boy in front of her, but still having trouble keeping her patience.

Just as she was about to turn a corner she felt her face being hit with a flat surface, being jolted back.

"Woah, what's the rush?" she felt an arm on her shoulder and was met with a silly smile. It was the guy from earlier in the morning.

"Sorry," she said, feeling embarrassed. She allowed herself to groan, feeling free from expressing her feelings. Even in front of this guy she just met. "I just couldn't stay in that room anymore."

"I didn't know class 1B was that far off," he joked.

"You know anyone from there?"

"Certainly. I could name quite a few if you ask me."

"Ugh, then I'm sure you know. Speaking of, in what class did you end up?"

He placed a hand in his pocket. "2B," he smiled. "If my last name was different we could've been in the same class. Maybe then the school year wouldn't be so bad."

"Yeah, talk about luck," she played along his playful attitude. She didn't know where he was getting at, but he was at least tolerable. "Oh, hey, we haven't met properly before."

"You're right," he extended his palm, smiling at her. "Mick Travis."

She replied with her name, shaking his hand. "Mick Travis? Is that French or..."

"I'm originally from Britain, but I've moved here for a while. I don't know for how long but I'll do what I can in the meantime. Second year in this school and I can't wait to get out of here."

"Did something happen last year?"

"It's a long story," he said simply, changing the subject. "So, where are you headed?"

In the end they sat at a bench, under a tree to avoid the bright sun from blinding their eyes and having to constantly squint at each other. Travis sat sideways, his one leg crossed while the other was extended freely, his head resting on his palm, the other holding his cigarette.

[Name] lazily looked up at the tree as the wind moved it's leafs, making her almost fall asleep. "Are they gotta tell us something for not going to eat?"

"Hell no, I'm sure they know how ass the food is anyway. We're just saving our lives at the moment."

She hummed, putting out her finished cigarette.

"So," he adjusted his head, in a way to look at her. "What do you think of this school?"

"I don't know. But I hope this year passes quickly. Last year was the worst year of my life."

This peacked his interest. "How so?"

"Long story," she laughed when she realized he responded the same way before. "Maybe I'll tell you if I skip a class."

"Fine."

Break ended too quickly for [Name] to enjoy and she dragged her feet to class, with Travis having to sometimes push her while she groaned in annoyance.

She walked inside, making eyecontact with Sabiani and giving her a look of "I can't stand being here already." The poor girl only giving her a sympathetic smile in response.

She was about to sleep on her desk, when a commotion made her raise her head to see what was going on. Descamps and his friends – whatever their names were, she didn't even bother to know – were making a fuss over something, and she noticed quickly a bucket filled with water behind the door. Descamps grabbed it and attempted to place it on top of the door, ordering one of his friends to keep watch from outside in the process.

The class did nothing, and so did [Name]. It took her a while to realize that a prank was happening, so whoever were to walk in would get drenched in that dirty bucket water. She rose from her seat, throwing her chair back and scaring Sabiani from beside her. She did promise not to act out, in hopes of not getting unwanted attention from the teachers, but she had enough from that Latin teacher anyway. She wouldn't let anyone stop her now.

She walked up to him, pushing him and making him almost spill the water. He narrowed his eyes at her, before he flashed her a cocky smile. "What's that? Didn't you learn your lesson from getting expelled from your last school? Are you planning on doing the same thing here?"

She clenched her jaw at the nerve he had. He didn't even know of her, yet acted better than her. "I'll get expelled for this? You're the one putting a bucket on top of the damn door."

She felt a hand grabbing her wrist and she turned around. "Don't get involved, just continue sleeping on your desk like you were before," it was one of Descamps friends.

She snatched her hand away, "Don't touch me." Turning her attention back at the vile glasses-wearing guy, she attempted to take the bucket away from him, only for him to raise it over her head, mocking her in the process. She would've been intimidated by his height, but she was already used to scarier guys from last year. Descamps laughed at her unsuccessful attempts, then motioned something to his friend. He got the memo and held back [Name] by restraining her.

"Let me down!" she yelled, but they ignored her, finally Descamps putting the damn bucket where he planned from the beginning. She looked at the rest of the class, everyone doing nothing about the whole thing and staying silent in their seats. She made eyecontact with Laubrac, her eyes seeking for his help. He only looked away, hiding his shame.

The victim of the prank was Magnan, as the water completely covered her from head to toe. Her braids were starting to fall apart from her cute style. Her frozen body left in shock as she looked around the class, everyone watching her without reaction. [Name] felt shame when she realized the water made the fabric on her chest area visible, being stuck on her skin.

Descamps and his friends were the only ones breaking the silence in the room, chuckling to themselves and breaking out laughing, [Name] being no longer being held back.

Suddenly he swallowed hard and composed himself at the sight of Mrs. Couret. He looked at her nervously and placed both his hands in his pockets.

Mrs. Couret was in shock at first, but acted quickly, taking of her jacket and putting it around Magnan. She ordered [Name] and Sabiani to look over the class, but they knew that with both of them combined they couldn't control Descamps and his dumb crew. Moments later, they exited the classroom, headed to the nurses office.

If that wasn't enough, Descamps even drew on the chalkboard, being a picture of who she assumed was Magnan, her chest area being the most prominent. [Name] was about to go off again, but Sabiani grabbed her wrist instead, shaking her head at her to tell her to stop. After a bit of contemplating she backed down. Before she could even sigh in disappointment, a senior barged inside the classroom.

He pushed a guy from his way and swing at one of the guys that indulged in the "prank". Sabiani yelled at them to stop but it escalated even worse. Descamps went to defend him, and this lead to him being hit. In the eye area. Next thing she knew, he was kneeled to the ground. Everything had happened so fast, [Name] was frozen in place.

Without thinking she fell next to him, trying to get a look at his injury. It was pretty hard to do so, as he pressed onto his left eye, his back slouching more and more as he couldn't contain his pain anymore. His groans made him so he couldn't hear the girl from beside him, but the warm touch on his shaking body comforted him even for a bit.

[Name] felt herself suddenly being pushed back, and she calmed herself when she realized it was the Dean.

"Let me see," he said, crouching to Descamps' level.

"My eye...! I can't see..."

"Don't touch it okay? Can you stand up?" when he nodded, he helped him get up. He then ordered Pichon to get the nurse, but she was already there.

"He's got some glass in his eye," Mr. Belanger said softly at his wife, as she placed a hand on his back and led him outside, mentioning something about taking him to the hospital.

"Get back to your class!" he yelled at the students that were watching from outside the door. "Dupin, take your seat. Jean-Pierre, my office. You two, put the chairs back. You wipe that off. And you, clean that now!" he looked at the rest of the class, his piercing look sending shivers down [Name]'s spine. "Everyone else, take your seats!" he ordered and the tone of his voice made everyone do so without question. "Quietly!"

He sighed, "I'll leave you to it, Miss Couret," he said, giving a last look to the teacher that had just arrived before storming off.

The rest of the day seemed to pass way slower that before.

tagging: @kpoploverxx-12 @puchosdementa @tropicalheart13 @luvmacyyyy @aiuragf @idontlikemonday @helchronicles @bubblegum-bitchhhhhhhhh @visndcaitswhore @blueberryblood11 @remusmuse @pookayyyyy @blvckdress @lirominissss @issoais-blog @murxhavia @b3l1z8 @nikkoiiii @beau-min

©ssnowville ©snowville

[mochinek0]

Daminette December 2023: 13-Wednesday

Paris couldn't believe what they were seeing: Marinette Dupain-Cheng was in Gotham Academy, in uniform! They hadn't see her in four years! What shocked them even more was seeing her arguing with some guy and she wasn't backing down.

The students in Gotham Academy didn't pay them any attention. Everyone ignored the shouting and yelling; they just kept walking as if they didn't see or hear them.

"Shouldn't you get a teacher?" Nino asked a student passing by.

"For what?" asked the brunette.

The class pointed at the arguing students.

"Wat day is it?" the brunette questioned.

"Wednesday." Max answered, "Does it matter?"

"It's their 'Argue Day'." the Gotham student declared.

"Argue day?" Mylene asked, confused.

"Yeah." the student stated, with a shrug, "Like clockwork. Teachers learned to deal with it. They get competitive, too."

"My boyfriend wouldn't put up with this sort of thing." Lila declared, "He hates violence."

"Oh, who is you boyfriend?" the brunette questioned.

"Damian Wayne." Lila smiled.

The brunette started laughing and pointing at Lila.

"Dude?" the blonde nearby questioned.

"This bitch said Damian Wayne is her boyfriend! She also said he hated violence!" the brunette answered and continued to laugh.

The blonde joined, howling with laughter. The Paris class shifted uncomfortably.

"Listen here, Faker," the blonde spoke, "you're not dating our ice Prince. Not to mention Damian is one of the most violent Waynes to roam these halls."

Lila sniffled, "He just doesn't want the media to know. I'm not lying."

"Well, that's lie number two." the brunette counted, "Damian doesn't care about the media. They gave him the title 'Ice Prince'."

"Do you know how many reporters have broken their arms, hands, or fingers trying to get a scoop from him?" the blonde questioned.

"You the ones lying!" Aly shouted, "Lila said he was kind and helpful Damian Wayne does charity work with her, for the environment!"

"It's not that hard to look up." the blonde scoffed, :About every other weekend, he's in the park casually talking to Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, and playign with their hyenas as they plan 'How to green up Gotham'."

Lila paled hearing how he associated with rogues. That hadn't been what she expected.

"Supposedly, his mother is just as bad as they are." the brunette declared, "If not worse."

Lila gulped, trying to figure out how to keep her classmates under her control as her lie began to unravel.

"If anything, it sound like you googled 'rich kid+my age in Gotham' and Damian Wayne popped up first." the blonde responded.

"How can you say that about our friend?" Kim demanded.

The boys pointed to Marinette and the boy arguing still.

"That is Damian Wayne." the brunette answered, "By tomorrow, they'll be back to cuddling and kissing, like they have been for the past three years."

"They basically chose one day a week to let their frustrations out on each other." the blonde spoke, "It just happens to be on Wednesday."

The Parisians turned to Lila for an answer.

"I-I'm sure that's not it." Lila declared in a panic.

"Oh, really?" questioned the blonde boy, "Yo, Mari! How many times did Damian drug your coffee and drag you to bed, last week?"

"Four!" she shouted, still glaring at him.

Damian scoffed, "It was three."

"Liar!" Marinette screamed.

The class watched on in confusion.

"Damian, how many times did Mari make you new clothes last month?" the brunette asked.

"Ten!" Damian exclaimed in frustration.

Marinette scoffed, "Like you don't complain about those 'monkey suits' and how uncomfortable they are."

"I didn't ask you to go out of you way, Angel, and make me those things!" Damian rebutted.

"Oh, so now my designs are things?" Mari declared, "I just wanted you to be comfortable!"

"I'm fine!" the young Wayne sighed, "You need to sleep!"

"How long did she stay up?" the blonde questioned.

"She didn't sleep." Damian growled.

Marinette threw her hands up before resting them on her hips, "I slept on the drive over. I drank Tim's coffee. It usually has at least five espressos. Not the most I've had."

"What?" Damian shouted.

"Ah, so that's the reason this time." the brunette spoke.

"Sorry, Liar, but no one in Gotham will believe that you are anything to Gotham's Ice Prince when there are pictures being posted, like this, by his very own brothers." the blonde declared.

He turned his phone around to see Marinette and Damian dressed in pajamas and curled up in bed together.

"Everyone in Gotham Academy knows they live together at Wayne Manor." he continued, "Not to mention, the moment someone tries to touch her or get in her personal space, he threatens to kill them."

"He had five knives taken away this month." the brunette stated.

"Actually, it was eight." the blonde commented.

"Oh, when did I miss those?" the brunette questioned.

"You were sick for a week." the blonde answered.

"Gotha." the brunette spoke, "So, good luck and welcome to Gotham."

"Have a good Wednesday." the blonde spoke as they walked away.

Marinette yawned, "Why am I yawning? I drank Tim's coffee."

"Todd switched his coffee with decaf." Damian smiled, "You just happened to drink it, instead."

"No." she whined, "You did this on purpose!"

"I did not force you to drink Drake's coffee not did I force you to stay up all night." he answered, "If anything, Todd is upset that you ruined his prank."

"But-" Mari yawned again.

Damian smirked and picked her into his arms, "We are going home and you are going to bed."

"School." Marinette replied.

"I already messaged the teachers on the ride over that e would be missing the next two days." the young Wayne answered, "I've also paid Todd $100 for messing up his plan. In exchange, he will bring you lunch and dinner."

Marinette didn't respond and curled up in his arms. Damian just walked out of the school.

"Okay!" someone shouted, "Who had them making up under fifteen minutes?"

"Awww, man!"

"I could have sworn they would argue longer today."

"Didn't expect her to not sleep."

"Or have decaf."

"If she had just had that coffee."

"How much did you lose?"

"$20."

"Lucky; $30."

"50."

Paris watched on as money was exchanged. Marinette and Damian Wayne's couple argument had gotten so common that people were gambling on it. They started to turn to Lila, who obviously had no idea how to explain what had just happened.

"So, you really were a liar." Nathaniel whispered, "Marinette was right, all along."

"I don't think we'll get to apologize to Marinette," Rose sniffled, "But she looks happy."

"Can't say you will be by the end of this trip, Lila." Alix sneered.

Lila was out of her element as Gotham had quickly spread her lie about dating Damian. No one believed her and if she said anything, they would just laugh at her. Not to metion her own classmates were now ignoring her. This hadn't been what she had planned; it was just another Wednesday. Nothing special about it.

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events@animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

[the-muppet-joker]

Jesus will not love you if your a misogynist because he loves his mother very much. You will go to hell for this blasphemy. Jesus did not die on the cross for you to fuck a puppet and also be misogynistic. GOD KNOWS ALL AND YOUR SINS ARE PLENTIFUL.✝️✝️✝️✝️✝️✝️✝️

Repent and go to therapy for the women hating thing. then you will be forgiven.

Mary's last words in the Bible are "Do Whatever He Tells You." She is present many times afterwards throughout Jesus's life and death, but she never says another word. Nothing of note, anyways. Nothing worth being recorded. She was refering to her son when she said this, saying simply that he is to have whatever he wishes. And then she never spoke again. I wonder if Jesus ever asked his mother for advice? I cannot imagine he would. What advice could one give who only knows how to do whatever God asks and never question it? They cannot give the advice themselves or impart knowledge from their own hollow, obedient minds. I despise a puppet who never cuts their strings. I hated looking at her plastic, dummy smile. My father was able to puppeteer her without moving from his permanent spot in front of the television. His voice coming from her mouth without moving his permanently scowling lips. A masterful ventrilloquist. Mary gave up her life the second an angel asked her. Did she have dreams before being asked to be the vessel of God? Did she know to resent the child that took them from her? I wish she would just confess how viscerally she must despise me. I want to shatter her perfectly painted mask. Maybe if she screamed in rage I would know what her real voice sounds like. Did Mary curse God when he killed her son? I don't think so. I think she cried passive and obedient tears. The perfect picture of a mother in mourning. I wonder if a guilty, selfish part of her was relieved to be Mary again, not Mary the Mother of God. Who knows. If you asked her what it was she really wanted, her painted smile and dummy teeth would clack open and shut and open and shut. "I want the same thing you should want, honey," you would hear the Voice of God. "To do whatever He tells you."

[lunajay33]

Surprise🩶

Summary: Being away from your soulmate is hard but one day Sam surprises you at your dorm

Pairing: Sam Winchester x f!reader

•Masterlist•

I first met Sam in class when we were partnered up for a project and instantly hit it off, we grew closer over the next few months until he asked me to be his girlfriend and I was over the moon, I mean it’s Sam Winchester he’s gorgeous, eventually we moved in with eachother and everything was going great until one night his brother showed up, Sam explained to me that his dad was missing and he had to go, that was 5 months ago we still call on the phone but the answers he gave me never made sense I know deep down he’s keeping something from me, but honestly I just miss him

“Sam when are you coming home?” I ask over the phone hearing him sigh

“I hope soon Angel, I hate being away from you”

“Me too and it’s getting creepy here all alone” I say feeling a chill run up my spine

“What do you mean?” He asked immediately concerned

“I don’t know ever since you’ve been gone it’s just felt weird like someone watching me, it’s cold sometimes and the lights flicker I don’t know maybe I’m just crazy”

“I’m sure it’s nothing just get some sleep okay? I’ll call in the morning”

I fell asleep that night with a bit more ease until I shot up in bed my body covered in a cold sweat, the lamp on my bed side table flickering I look around frantic until my eyes land on a woman standing in the corner, she was wearing a long white dress with blond hair and a sense of familiarity struck me

“What are you doing here?”

“Do not fear I’m only here to watch over you”

“I know you….youre Sam’s…..but how?”

The door to my bedroom slammed open to reveal Sam and Dean, I look back at Mary as they followed my gaze

“Mom?” Dean said a quiver in his voice

“She’s not safe alone son, but now that you’re back I’ve fulfilled my duty” she faded as the room became warm again and the light went back to normal

“Sammy?” So many unanswered questions in such a short time, he came to my bed side and held me close, I missed this being held in his strong arms, his cologne calming me

“I’m so sorry I should’ve never left you, I’ll tell you everything just promise you won’t leave me” he seemed so fragile and vulnerable

“I’ll never leave you Sammy, I love you”

“I love you too angel”

He explained everything to me, I probably wouldn’t have believed him if it wasn’t for what just happened with his mothers ghost

“But how did you get here so quick?”

“I was coming home as a surprise, good thing too, you’re not safe here now that you now everything and the target I have on my back someone will try and use you against me, are you willing to come with us, so I can protect you?”

“I’ll go anywhere with you”