#my mistake I thought I was living in a country with affordable housing for a sec and forgot I was in australia

[goodbye-susan]

Inspected an apartment rental today that was $500 pw, looked like it should be $200 pw if this was 5 years ago, and was furnished with a framed psalm verse from the bible. We are in strange times.

[lovelywritinglady]

hi can i recwest a uzui x reader where uzui have a argment and gat a divors and yn is pregnet years later when the child and he rillast that it is his child and has a tak whif yn and trase to fics everifing

if you canpleas do thak you and have a grat day

I’d love to!💜

Mistakes

Tengen Uzui x fem!Reader

You and Tengen got into a heated argument after a demon hunt gone wrong. He says some extremely hurtful words. You decide to leave him because you know you don’t deserve that. What you didn’t know was that you were pregnant with his child. Angst, slight fluff, Tengen being a dick, mentions of pregnancy, cursing, and other mature themes.

Your pov

"You nearly got us killed, what are you and idiot?" My husband Tengen yelled at me.

"It was an accident, I'm sorry!" I yelled back

"You cannot afford accidents like this Y/N!" He roared stepping closer to me causing me to flinch slightly.

"I'm sorry." I whispered

"Sorry won't even begin to cover the fucking stupitity of your actions! You have no right being a demon slayer with how dumb you are. I can't believe I married someone like you!" he yelled looking me dead in the eye with fury.

"Fuck you!" I snapped as my anger began rising as tears filled my eyes.

"Real mature Y/N, get the hell out of my house until you can learn some respect and basic combat moves." he said as he began walking away as I began to sob.

"Where the hell am I going to stay! Tengen, I'm your wife!' I cried walking towards him.

"Hell if I care, just get your things and don't come back until you aren't so incopitent." he snapped walking away into another room.

I stood there unable to think, feel, or understand the situation. My body moved on its own and next thing I knew I was out of mt home with a bag packed walking only god knows where. It was getting dark, but I didn't care all I knew is that I was no longer wanted, needed, or loved by the man that swore he would protect me and love me no matter what. So much for promises. I kept walking until the sun began to rise, my thoughts much clearer now and my tears no longer flowing down my face. I decided to go live with my older sister, Misa, who lives on the other side of the country. Her and I have always been close, and I just hoped I would never see that asshole again.

One Month Later

I feel unbelievebly sick, as every morning and evening I spill my guts out. I have an uncontroable hunger and yet anytime I try to eat something I feel once again that I want to throw up. I feel miserable not just physically, but mentally too. Despite his words, I still love my husband. He use to be my everything, but I suppose I was never his. He claimed that he couldn't believe that he married me and just thinking about those poisonus words make my body ache once more. Tears I try not to spill came fourth with so much eagerness that I had no time to stop them. I hated myself for crying over him, but I suppose I was really crying for the man he use to be. I knew in my heart that I would always love him, but now I can never be with someone who so easily made me feel like my very existence meant nothing. I heard a faint knocking that pulled me out of my thoughts as the sweet voice of my sister filled the room.

"How are you feeling this morning, Y/N?" Misa asked as she sat next to me putting her hand on my forhead.

"Not great." I sighed smiling at her wiping away my tears.

"Y/N, I really think we should get you a doctor. This has been going on too long." She suggested taking her hand off my head.

"I think your right Misa." I sighed

"I didn't want to say anything to you, but I really think you're pregnant." she said in a whisper

"What!" I whisper yelled

"You're showing signs and don't worry if you are. I will always take care of you." Misa reassured

"Lets hope I'm not then." I said nervously.

Two days later the doctor came, she was a sweet older lady that had a warm smile and a small figure. She came into my room and inspected me in all they ways she could. My nerves at this point were all consuming as I really did not want to be pregnant, especially since I knew who the father was.

"My dear you have no fever and no true illness. What you are expierencing, is early signs of pregnancy." she said with a smile

"I see, I guess my sister was right then." I stated sadly

"Are you not happy, I'm sure your husband will be." she stated with a concerned look on her face.

"My husband no longer wants me." I answered doing my best not to cry once more.

"Oh, I am so sorry, my dear." She said grabbing my hand.

"Thank you, I just have no idea what to do now." I said honestly

"That's just something you're going to have to figure out for yourself. At the end of the day you need to do what's best for your child." She spoke seriously

"Yes, I suppose you're right." I sighed

"Of course I'm right dear, I am a doctor." she joked

"Hey, is everything alright in here?" my sister asked as she knocked on the door.

"It will be." I whispered touching my belly.

Three Years And Six Months Later

My son, Kei, is now nearly three years old. He's a rowdy child that seems to always be obsessed with what is going on outside. Whether is rainy, snowy, or sunny, he's always begging to go outside. I can't complain though as I love nature and seeing his little cheeks puffed up when he askes is always so cute. Kei looks a little bit like his father as he got most of his features from me. His eyes are the same color as my ex husband and his personality matches. His hair is a lighter shade of h/c, which gave me relief. I still haven't told Tengen about our son, nor do I want to. Part of me feels selfish, but part of me doesn't want to subject him to a man like Tengen. Although, when they do meet, I hope he is kind to his son. Kei is too sweet and kind to have to be around a father that verbally abuses him. I just couldn't live with myself if I let my baby be hurt by him.

In these three years, I haven't had a full time job. Mostly they have been part time jobs and my sister has been providing for me and my son. She claimes that since she doesn't have a family that this is no trouble, but Kei is old enough where I can start working full time. It took a long time to find job, but one day my sister came into the house screaming that she found a job that was perfect for me.

"Y/N, this is a landscaping job." she nearly yelled in my ear

"Huh, that's a little different than the jobs that I'm looking for, but hey if they are hiring then I'll take it." I said confifently

"Mama what's going on?" Kei asked as he walked into the room with a sleepy expression.

"I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to wake you up." I cooed opening my arms for my son. He then picked up the pace and ran into my arms crushing me with all of his nearly three year old strength.

"Its okay." he sighed playing with his fingers with a small tired pout

"Your mama just found a job, Kei." my sister said with a smile at her nephew

"Okay." he said disinterested. I smiled at this, he's so small and perfect and despite the fact that my pregnancy was not the easiest, it was worth it.

Two weeks later I found myself walking towards my new job. It was a sunny day and part of myself wished Kei was here to enjoy it with me. I can almost hear his voice calling my name begging me to play with him. I was lucky to have been blessed with him. My thoughts of my perfect child came to a halt as the gates of the house I would be working at came into view. Taking a deep breath I began walking to what I thought was the front door. This property was absolutely beautiful. Everything seemed like it was perfect, not even a pebble out of place. It was a calming place that seemed to inspire peace. For some reason this place looked oddly familiar and it only now hit me that this was the place where the master lived. Tengen had taken me here years ago when he became hashira while I was just starting to become a demon slayer. Before I left, I was one rank away from being hashira. I thought about training again, but now that I have my son I felt it was irresponsible. Plus I could never leave him.

"You must be Y/N." The master suddenly said and it made me wonder how long he was there for.

"Yes sir, its very nice to meet you. Thank you for having me." I said bowing to show respect to him.

"Of course. I am aware of your situation and am happy to give you work here." He said with a smile." Come with me and I'll show you the grounds.

Two weeks later

Working at this mansion feels peaceful and the work is harder than I expected, but the pay is well worth it. Today I raked, cut grass, and tended to the luscious gardens. The sun beamed down on me giving me a slight headache. Thankfully the day was almost over for me so that I could go home to my son and my sister. Kei has been begging me to take him here ever since my sister told him that the hashira train here. I have been reluctant of it since seeing Tengen might be a possiblilty and seeing a child in my arms was a conversation that I simply did not want to have yet, even though I knew one day it would happen. I heard light footsteps approach me. turning my head I saw one of the other workers and smiled at him. He was a kind man that was around my age and he and I had talked a few times.

"Hey there, how's the work today?" He questioned with a sweet smile.

"Same as always although its a little hotter than usual." I responded

"Yeah, but I like it when its hot because I know that cooler weather is around the corner." he said with a content smile

"That would be nice." I chuckled

"Oh, you should know that the hashira will be here tomorrow." he said seriously

"Well, I'll make sure to make myself scarce." I said trying to mask my nervousness.

"Don't, all you need to do is smile and show them respect." He smiled

"Will do." I laughed standing up.

"Well I will see you tomorrow and tell your son I said hi." he smirked

"I'll make sure to tell him, see you tomorrow." I bowed

I watched him leave with a fake smile on my face. As soon as he was out of sight I sighed as my stomach throbbed with uncomfortable uneasiness as I began waking to the shed to put my tools away with my head hung low. I was no where okay with the fact that Tengen was going to be here tomorrow. I thought that maybe I should call in sick, but no one would believe that. Even if they did, I’d feel too guilty about it. The best thing to do was to avoid seeing him and focus on my work. If I keep my head down and not do any quick movements, then he won’t see me, hopefully. My thoughts were completely consumed with my nerves that I didn’t even register that I had bumped into someone until I heard someone speaking.

“Hey watch where you walk, alright.” The voice snapped

“Forgive me, I wasn’t looking.” I said frantically bowing as to show respect and forgiveness.

“Y/N?” The voice questioned lowing its tone. I then stood up and as my eyes met with the stranger I immediately tended up. My breath hitched and my stomach dropped into the ground. The one and one Tengen Uzui stood before me in all of his flashy glory.

“Uhh, you gonna say anything?” He joked as his eyes raked over my body.

“Um hi.” I stuttered slightly unsure of what the hell to even do. And I tended even more so when his body came crashing into mine in a bone crushing hug. I could feel his urgency and I almost allowed myself to met into his arms. But I couldn’t because I knew it wasn’t right.

“I missed you.” He mumbled into my hair. “I’m so sorry Y/N, you didn’t deserve that.” He cried.

“I know.” I said monotone still unsure what to do. Do I tell him about our son or do I keep my mouth shut and pretend like any of this is okay?

“Where have you been?” He questioned breaking the hug but still standing close. I looked up at him and sighed.

“Here and there, but mostly I’ve been living with my sister.” I said honestly. I really couldn’t lie to this man he’s really good at sporting liars. As much as I hated him, I really didn’t feel like lying to him.

“Ahh so that’s where you’ve been. I though your sister moved away from here.” He said curiously.

“She was going to, but she decided to stay.” I responded trying not to show too much emotion.

“Guess I should’ve looked there.” He joked

“You looked for me?” I questioned as I raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I did you’re my wife and I love you.” He scoffed as though he was offended.

“I just thought you wouldn’t care.” I mumbled

“Of course I care.” Tengen sighed

“Well you sure as hell didn’t act like it then.” I snapped

“You’re right, I didn’t I was too hard on you. You made a simple mistake. Hell I’ve made mistakes too. Making mistakes in this line of work is never good, but no one died. I should’ve been easier on you and I’m sorry.” He spoke. His eyes were pleading with mine saying silent apologies.

“Thank you for apologizing, but I can’t forgive you right now. You make me feel like I was nothing and I’m not just going to forgive that easily. I know one day I will, but I just can’t now.” I whispered as tears threatened my eyes.

“That’s understandable, I just hope one day that we can be together again. I miss you and honestly you’re the best aspect of life.” He said with a longing gaze.

“I’m not sure about that. That might take a long time. I don’t exactly trust you.” I spoke honestly.

“Fair enough.” He sighed. I reluctantly decided that I should just rip the bandaid off. Kei was his son and as much as I hated to admit it, Tengen was honest about his apologies. That man doesn’t half ass anything. So I thought this might be the time.

“Look Tengen I-“Just as I was about to tell him the screeching voice of my child filled my ears and I knew I was fucked.

“Mama!” Kei screeched as he ran straight towards me crushing me into a hug. He nuzzled his head into my thigh and despite how nervous I was I smiled at how cute my baby was.

“We have a child.” I finished with an awkward smile. Tengen stood there stiff and unmoving which was strange for him. I had never seen him tense up like this ever and I began to regret not going home sooner.

“Mama who’s this and why is he so tall.” Kei questioned waking up to Tengen. “Hey, you okay?” He said as he poked Tengens hand.

“Ummm.” Tengen said still shocked at the fact that Kei, his son, was standing right there. Matching pink eyes and all.

“Ummm?” Kei questioned craning his head to the side. “That’s a weird name.” Kei said in disgust.

“Baby this is Tengen Uzui and he’s a hashira. And he’s also your father.” I said trying to stay as calm and collected as possible.

“You’re my dad.?” Kei asked Tengen with cute excited smile on his cubby face.

“Yeah, I guess I am kid.” Tengen whispered crouching down and pulling Kei towards him in a loving him. “I’m your dad.” Tengen cried.

I began to shed a few tears at how cute this meeting was. I felt slightly bad that I didn’t tell Tengen about our son, but I had good reasons not to. I’m just so glad that he seems to be a better and nicer man. My thoughts then came to a haunt as I noticed my sister wasn’t here nor was was neighbor that Kei likes to hang out with. Meaning he came here alone.

“Kei honey, did you walk here alone.” I questioned with my hands on my hips.

“Umm no.” He quickly said.

“Kei answer your mother honestly.” Tengen said sternly but not too much as to scare the child.

“Yeah okay I came here by myself. But I really missed you!” Kei cried quickly to defend himself

“I missed you too, but you need to wait until I get home.” I sighed looking at how adorable my son looked with a pout.

“Okay.” He said reluctantly. Smiling at my son hugging his father brought peace to me. And I then decided to do something that would bring us all together.

“Tengen, would you like to join us for dinner?” I questioned still looking at the cute scene before me.

“Absolutely I would!” He exclaimed standing up and picking up our son, swinging him in the air.

“Yay!” Kei screeched

Making eye contact with Tengen I have him a small smile. His eyes looked relaxed and happy and I’m glad that he found out about or son. He then came up to me smiling as well.

“Y/N thank you for allowing me to be with him. I will do by best to be the father he deserves and hopefully one day the man you deserve if that’s what you’d like.” He spoke

“Thank you, I’m sure you will. And for that second bit only time can tell.” I joked

“Sounds good to me. Alright shall we go?” Tengen suggested

“Yeah, I wanna show you my room!” Kei said

“I bet it’s the flashiest room ever.” Tengen said matching Kei’s energy.

“It sure is!” I exclaimed content about the situation that I was in. But I wondered something.

“Hey why are you here early?” I asked Tengen

“The master told me to come early.” He spoke

“Why?” I asked

“No idea, but something tells me this was the reason.” He spoke softly

“Maybe.” I responded shaking my head at the thought that the master was trying to play match maker again.

We walked to the house as Kei held Tengens hand as well as he could. While the adults caught up on the years and for the first time in a long time I felt happy to be near Tengen.

Thank you so much for reading💜 Thank you to whoever requested this! Sorry it took longer than expected.

Please fell free to comment, repost, and request.

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n and any original characters•

-L.W.L

[russellius]

THE TIMES: The Formula One driver and his father, Steve, on failed driving tests and sleeping in horseboxes

George

My earliest memories are of living in a mobile home while my parents built a house in a field in the middle of nowhere, near Wisbech in Cambridgeshire. I rode a pedal tractor around the site, hurtling through corners and reversing with a trailer.

At 25 I am the youngest of three. Cara is 37 and works as my personal assistant. Benjy is 36 and caught the karting bug when he was just 11. He was a brilliant driver, becoming a national and world karting champion. Unfortunately, even starting at such a young age, it was already too late for him to have a professional career. I took up karting when I was six and he helped me a lot. Benjy was like a mentor. He eventually gave up racing at university, so Dad’s focus was on me.

I didn’t see much of Dad during the week. He got up early and came home late running a business selling seeds and pulses. As a kid you miss having your father around, but it’s only now that I appreciate he was doing it so I could race at the weekend. Dad didn’t come from a lot and did well to create a successful business. We weren’t poor but we weren’t wealthy like the families of some F1 racing drivers now.

After long hours at work Dad drove us in a camper van to racetracks around the country. It was very much a family affair. Dad was the mechanic, Mum did the cooking and collected data on my driving. When I drove well, there were celebrations and the mood was great but because everyone was so emotionally and financially invested, when I suffered a poor weekend the mood was bad.

Dad has always been hard on the ones he loves. As a young kid, that was difficult to deal with. The pressure didn’t just filter down to me, it affected the whole family. I felt the weight of failure and expectation. If I made a silly mistake and spun off the track, I can now understand why Dad might have thought, “What the hell am I doing this for?” He had to work his arse off to support my racing, so if I didn’t put in enough effort, it must have been hard.

I now live in the world of F1, where tens of millions of pounds are spoken about like peanuts. Even in Formula Two or Three, every driver has to find huge amounts of money to get on the grid — it’s just crazy. When I was 16 and moving up through the ranks, I realised Dad didn’t have that sort of capital. I thought, “Oh shit, if I can’t find that sort of sponsorship or get picked by a team, my F1 dream is gone.”

Winning the F2 championship in 2018 was a big moment but I’ll never forget the day I signed for Williams F1 in September 2018. I was racing in F2 in Sochi, Russia, when Claire Williams, the deputy team principal at the time, called me in and offered a deal. Mum and Dad were the first people I told and they both cried. I told them to save their tears for when I won a race.

I joined Mercedes for the 2022 season, alongside Lewis Hamilton. It was a huge opportunity for me to learn and grow in F1, as well as show what I’m capable of. It was not an easy season for Mercedes but I feel very fortunate to be in this position, plus Lewis is such an incredible bloke on and off the track. He is so experienced, whereas I’m a 25-year-old who is just totally focused on trying to be the best F1 driver I can be. I’m pretty inspired by what he has achieved.

Dad is a strong character but he has become more emotional since his children have left home. He’s also friendlier now and doesn’t mind making a fool of himself from time to time. My only regret is that F1 doesn’t leave much free space to see each other but we do speak on the phone all the time.

Of course he still watches the pennies and will only fly economy — he won’t let me pay for their flights either. I know my parents can afford to fly business but it’s the principle for them. I want to make sure I reach a position with my racing where I can afford to give them the best in their retirement. They totally deserve it.

Steve

The F1 guys are OK on the racetrack but they are never as good as their dads on normal roads. George is always telling me to slow down as we approach a junction, though his mum thinks it’s fantastic when he takes her out and drives quickly.

There was just one occasion when George didn’t put the full effort in and it caused quite a commotion. He failed his first driving test at 17 because he thought that being a great driver on the track was good enough. He came home fuming that the examiner was wrong. We had to go back to the test centre in King’s Lynn so George could confront him. That didn’t go down well.

George was a cheeky little boy, a bit of a comedian. I worked a lot but it’s strange that I can only remember the racing side of his life, not watching him grow up at home. We enjoyed a nice life but had to work hard for it. I came from a family of farm workers with very little money and wanted to get away from agriculture and better myself but I ended up owning a wholesale seed business.

My wife, Alison, and I knew George was going to be a racing driver at the age of two. He was born on the track, coming to races to watch his brother and help out in the garage. He had a toy tractor that he rode around the pit lane and collected stickers from each race to stick on his “George Russell Racing” tractor.

As George progressed through the racing ranks it became more and more expensive. We invested in a motorhome to travel to races — before that I would sometimes sleep in a freezing horsebox. There were sacrifices. Alison and I didn’t go on our first holiday together until two years ago, on a trip to Lanzarote. By then we had been together for 38 years. People think that now George is in F1 we hang out with Lewis Hamilton and Toto Wolff, the Mercedes principal, every weekend in the sunshine, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Now Alison and I rarely go to races because we don’t want to interfere.

It was hard letting George fly the nest because we had been a close family, always doing our racing together. He is methodical and organised but his feet are firmly on the ground. There are plenty of people in the family to put him straight if needed.

There’s no magic wand to become an F1 driver — it takes hard work and dedication. It was only when I stood on the track with George before his first grand prix that I looked up at the enormous crowd and thought, “Oh my God, we’ve actually got here.”

[rianafying]

hello diary i’m back idk what is happening or why i ever feel what i feel, but here goes nothing

i’ve been feeling very creative today, had a terrible morning woke up insanely dehydrated, could barely move, my arthritis and psoriasis had flared up as well, i had to cancel my gig but they’re fine, they had other people on board. i don’t really feel like i missed out because i literally couldn’t have gone and needed to stay home and rehydrate, plus it’s like 37 degrees outside, i’ll stay home thanks. anyway, so i got some much needed rest and i ate and drank loads of water and i feel replenished now and i feel hopeful and creative and i wish i could’ve just started something, a project or whatever. but i have no many chores standing firmly between me and what i actually want to do. will is a terribly difficult thing to conjure. i had a telehealth appointment to get diagnosed w adhd in melbourne so i can access the necessary treatment, but they’re telling me it’ll be at least $800 and at least 4 sessions to just get diagnosed. and that to me is a huge undertaking. i told them ill think about it but what is there to think of, i know fully well i cant afford it. i wish i had an ipad to draw on. ive been wanting to draw something for ages and i could draw on my physical sketch book but i just haven’t? i just cant? its the guilt from all the chores i haven’t done. there’s a proper inspection due in 4 days and i just know it’s going to cripple me with anxiety as the date comes closer. there’s so much stuff that i want to do. and yet i do nothing. i’m not doing even 1% of everything i want to do, because im stuck doing 100% of the things i hate but have to do. when im older, i hope i get permanent residency in australia or any other first world country, i wish i have a safe and permanent place to live, regardless of size or quality. i wish i have someone who can help me with the tasks i struggle with and i can help them with tasks they struggle with and if we both struggle at the same things, we’ll understand each other, we can struggle and learn together. hopefully this will not be a romantic partner because i don’t think my brain is hardwired to deal with matters of the heart in a stable way. i hope that by the time i feel safe, the children of gaza feel safe too. i hope we win. i thought of them when i got dehydrated and worried that ill get a uti, i thought about how much worse they have it. i think of them all the time but especially when im suffering and im reminded that they have it many folds worse. i try to derive hope, strength, and gratitude from that instead of helplessness, and powerlessness.

i haven’t been able to take out the trash and get rid of my dead plants and they’re starting to attract bugs and i really need to do that today, i’ve been saying that everyday, it’ll just take seconds. i also am very close to having $0 in my account because i had to buy some meds and i found some vitamins for half price and decided to buy a whole buttload of them #forhealthiguess also its SO HOT. and im trying to avoid turning on my air conditioner because my electricity bill last month was $140??? like why? it’s a crazy world out here. crazy expensive. for the millionth time, i really should get a real job soon. or try to. i doubt i’ll ever have enough to be independent. i fear i’ll always be at the mercy of my parents. i fear i’ll heal too slow to keep up with the damage.

all day i did nothing. that’s not true, i went grocery shopping and i made meatballs, and spaghetti and it turned out great. the one thing i always cook successfully is any kind of pasta, never fails. i feel 50% guilty for not doing anything important today. such as taking out the trash, cleaning my room, etc. it’s the one thing i hate doing: house chores. makes me wanna scream, cry and throw up. i made a mistake, last night i accidentally left my earphones on the couch at reception downstairs and hadn’t even realised until earlier today when i was leaving the building and saw it on the couch. i feel so relieved that i live in a place where nobody stole it all day. part of me feels like i don’t deserve to live so well. because for nearly a year, i have been living wonderfully, everything’s going so well, and all my demons are inside of my own head. this is new for me. there’s no actual threat, i think. still feels like there is. i’m less overwhelmed than usual, but still pretty overwhelmed. there’s always too many ideas and not enough ability to implement them. how do i feel chaos and clarity simultaneously. i just need a break from this mental torment. i think getting my apartment clean will definitely help with that. but it’s such a big task, even thinking about it makes me fall to my bed and start to rot. suddenly i find that my body won’t move. adhd sounds like it’s so quirky and funny until you’re surrounded with piles of garbage and flying insects and there is a mysterious sticky brown patch underneath the fridge that just will not move. until there’s no space to walk from one end of the room to the other without stepping on and crushing things underneath my feet. it feels as if my brain has acquired an endless supply of shame and guilt. i will probably not feel focused until my room is actually clean. clean enough to be inspected. clean enough to maybe even have visitors. i get anxious just thinking about the prospect.

[troubleangel1994]

How difficult is it to buy a home in Germany or Spain?

Would you consider moving outside of Europe?

Feel like the biggest difference between our generation and the boomers, is that we can’t make as many mistakes and shortcomings towards success. Like you can’t really waste time or make major mistakes and recover from it these days.

i'd say if you want to stay in berlin it's slightly more expensive. and no, i would not consider moving out of europe i think we are very sheletered here in terms of social protections and i wouldn't give that up for a bigger house. and yeah, totally agree! and there are some things that most people wouldn't consider as "mistakes" but if you want to afford the cost of living are a no-nos like having low income partner (if you are not rich ofc if you come from wealth none of that matters).

i have one friend who i can tell is def a bit mad at me because i'm in a much better position than him to afford buying a house. and i can potentially understand being jealous at someone that had it easy, comes from wealth etc because that's unfair. but i never forced him to stay in spain and settle for an industry with mediocre salaries and then getting a very low-income girlfriend. it sucks that those are bad financial decisons these days but they are and it's not my fault that i worked my ass off and i have been living in a country that i don't even like for +6 years to progress in my carreer and have access to high salaries.

but coming back to your point, it's actually pretty scary that making mistakes and even having things go wrong can literally wipe you out nowadays. it's much hard to recover from those, specially if you don't have a network that can help you, like a family that owns a house where you can live etc.. pretty depressing. and the worst part is that the generations after boomers thought they would have it easy and it's getting rougher now than for my grandparent's generation. my grandparent is so so so worried about the whole situation he cannot wrap his head around how this happened after all they fought for good living standars and all of that is almost completely dismantled :(

[jdlopes777-blog]

Wisdom , the Bible tells me it’s like a woman , honor her and she will honor me. I am in a special situation where I no longer care for the things I sough after in my 20s. My 30s were a rebuilding phase with lots of lessons I had to learn and painful trial and tribulations i had endure.

Is it so hard to understand , things that harm you any part of you Any type of harm , a drug , a substance anything that harms or has harmed you in no good for you. This is what a friend or a psychologist would say. Then why go after such a thing again why yoke myself to that being. That part of my 30s is gone. It’s registered to my mind.

My 40s are almost here , and I want wisdom to be that woman I chase after. I have made mistakes that have brought me to where I am now. Now I seek to take care of my parents , I need a home where I can house them. I have family in Nicaragua I feel the need to help and be a support to them. I can leave them hanging. My gramma is in very very bad shape and I will not say I feel helpless. I will separate my feelings from what is true.

I know now feelings are deceitful and wicked. My heart is wicked and full of deceitful schemes. I will not give in to. The enemy looking for any little bit of space to take over. I rather walk away from danger than to gamble my life. This is wisdom and I cherish you. I am in a unique situation because I am growing weary of the mortgage career I have but I don’t know what to do and this is okay too. Because wisdom tells me to depend on Christ alone for an answer a way out. I rather walk away from all this chaos I pray the Lord help me see though all this.

I want a house for my mom and a house for my dad and a house for me to raise a family of my own. My household will praise the Lord and it starts with me. I will no longer cast my pearls to swine. By the grace of God I will see the Lords salvation in my life. I will get out of debt , I will pay off my IRS debt I will pay off CA FTB. I will get my residency card I will be able to earn a living in what I know how to do best and that is help families get into their own homes so they too can worship the Lord and praise the Lord.

I represent family togetherness , family values , I care to see parent raise their kids and see them grow together as a family and I care about families assembling to worship together under one roof united in Christ. This is wisdom being single and living weekend to weekend is horrible been there done that. I have a partner I would like to raise a family but I am not there yet and it’s in the Lord hands my life and here I am declaring it exuberantly that HE IS , the one who sees me and is with me everywhere I go and I depend on help from HIM only to help me navigate.

I have done everything I can to do what I can do to survive and I have labored in vain. But the Lord is with me to remind me it doesn’t have to be that way. I trust the Lord for a way out , a financial breakthrough so I can move to a place where I can afford to raise and support a family with the help of the Lord guiding me where I should earn and how and when and where. I am in PRINCEVILLE , ILLINOIS , and it’s beautiful out here 3 and half hours away from CHICAGO , and I love the country , it’s so peaceful and serene.

I pray for a way that the Lord will make for me to be able to earn enough to support family and church and friends and family. The Lord has kept me in mortgages long enough to realize I am great at them. Despite my mistakes from the past being in the way from a license to work on mortgages I am still putting my trust in Christ because I believe he wants to bless me with a solution. His thoughts are higher than mine and at this moment things are tough but HE IS with me and I believe HE is working behind the scenes.

I want to remind myself just as HE reminds me all the time , HE knows what I need before I ask. Things will work out in HIS timing. Not mine. I thank you Lord that you are working behind the scenes and I will look back and see these journal and I will see that I should not have worried at all.

I’m tired of all the noise from big cities and places where I am having difficulty keeping up I’m so behind and I will not lose sleep (WISDOM) The Lord has my back , I am and will not amount to anything without HIM , HE knows what’s best for me and I pray to give thanks I no longer need to ask because HE says yes. He sees me and sees my HEART. My heart is what he sees , and ponders my thoughts and this is great vision because it gives me when I least expect.

[i-hope-no-one-finds-this]

The air is stagnant with desert heat that covers my thighs with sweat as I sit on the leather-bound chair. I contemplate if i am showing too much emotional distress or not enough. Should I keep eye contact for this long? He would get even more distraught if he thought i was not taking this conversation seriously, im not. He sits comfortably in his own chair, 5 feet in front of me. I think this is the most he has said to me in over three months and its a lecture, of course it is. “It hurts that you just have that emotion of ‘i-dont-give-a-fuck-especially-to-my-dad everytime I see you.’” Hmm, its because after the emotional trauma you have put me through I really can’t afford to spare any more mental room for your nonsense anymore. “Who do i live for?” Yourself. “Me.” i say. “Uh-huh. And have you ever wanted anything? Do people look at you and go shes poor as fuck? No, they havent. I am poor as fuck, i am so poor and i do it all so that you can have the nicest things, your car, your phone, your shoes…” You can take them all back if you want, wont change anything. “I just want you to admit what you did was fucked up and apologize, you knew that we had been talking about this, yet you still just dont give a fuck about my emotions or how it would effect me at all.” Oh, I have to respond fast here. “Honestly i am sorry dad, i really did not think this was that important to you. I knew you wanted to get one together, i just didn't realize it had to be my first one.” “Baby why would I not want it to be the first one?” Baby, thats a good sign. I really wonder if he thinks that i hate him, as a person i do, as family I just want him to be good to my mom and I, not treat us each like shit. A memory of a video of a girl describing how she leaves her boyfriends after a single argument because she is used to being let down by her father who will not change pops into my head. Huh, i guess he really has messed me up. Ladies choose your men right, dont let just anyone hit cause youre not only condemning yourself but also your child of a world of hell. I am a bad daughter, ill admit it at least. Better than claiming i deserve the best dad of the year i suppose. 

Statistically speaking, about 45% of American households are separated, and of all marriages in the country, about 17% of them are truly happy. Unluckily for my household, we are part of that 45 and 83 percent. My parents separated long before I can ever remember however, I vividly remember when they wanted to spend time all together seeing as they had a pretty good friendship and both shared a deep desire to spend more time with their one and only child, me. For a year and a half during high school, my parents decided to move into a house together as friends and roommates so that they both can have quality time with me while I still lived under the same roof as them till college. This friendly agreement was soon to be a terrible mistake that gave off the impression that I was living in a continuously breaking family. Imagine having to go to school early in the morning yet you can’t fall asleep because of the arguing going on apparently right outside your door. Imagine feeling guilty because you're the only reason both parents decided to do this in the first place, and now they have nowhere to go but to their pits of despair they call home. The repercussions of what was said after an especially bad argument would usually be days of silent treatment and lingering resentment clinging to the house walls. My only escape was school so when I dove into homework as soon as I got home, it would be confused as responsible indulgence, when the truth was I didn’t want to witness the confrontation my parents had with one another when they would return home from their day jobs. The house, however small it was, resembles an extremely hard time in my life, where I was consumed daily with self-destructing thoughts of why my parents argued daily, why I usually caught the backlashes of their disagreements when they would ask me if I agreed or not. That year, I finished having one of the highest GPAs I think I've had, ever. The continued hard work I put into studying and doing homework in order to get rid of my constant sadness and guilt had propelled me to set new highs for me in school.

[isimpfortoomanypeople]

So this is it? Sebastian Stan x actress reader

Chapter 8- us

You’ve got a part in the new captain America film, during filming the directors have asked the lead actors to live together to build chemistry. What you didn’t expect was to find yourself in a relationship with Sebastian Stan, you thought everything was going well till one date night Sebastian breaks up with you.

A/N: here we are second to last chapter, what a journey this has been. Here’s your more happier chapter. I also had to cut off some of the chosen song quote as I didn’t want to spoil the ending of the chapter. Apologises for all spelling and grammatical mistakes as I’m super dyslexic, enjoy

Can we make this better? Cause I’m losing hope. Tell me how to be in this world, tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt.

The months following the wrap party was the calm you needed. Filming was over so you were no longer confined within the prison that house became within the last three weeks of living there. Stepping foot into your new apartment felt amazing, your shoulders felt lighter no longer carrying the weight of your crushing heartache, like you could finally breathe again.

You and Jamie both agreed to share a two bedroom apartment in LA, realistically as two new up and coming actors you can’t yet afford your own place. Plus you and Jamie were inseparable it just made sense.

“Mmm this couch is amazing, it’s the nicest one I’ve ever sat on. Jamie you’re a couch god” you sighed feeling all the built up stress in your muscles melt away. “I’m never leaving this couch” “I don’t remember inviting Antony Mackie as my roommate” Jamie joked rolling his eyes in your direction. “Now help me unpack these groceries”.

Life was a lot more simpler, easier when it was just you and Jamie. You both cooked for each other or went to the same cheap bar every Friday night which would result in you both drinking an ungodly amount of caffeine to aid your roaring hangovers, or both sitting on the couch after a long day rewatching friends or the office something light hearted and something comforting.

It was days like these that made it more bearable. Sure it was torturous in the beginning especially as the moments after the kiss at the wrap party.

“Honey what’s wrong?” His face contorted in confusion the way it once did on that night Sebastian broke up with you. Shock flooded all your senses it held your response captive in your throat unable to escape. “Y/N please answer me” he pleaded grabbing your shoulder in order to make you speak. “Is she okay?” Amy questioned in concern seeing all the colour draining from your face. “H-he kissed me” you stuttered still in the full throws of shock. “I’m going to kill him!” “Jamie I know you want his head on a spike and trust me I do too, I want nothing more than to kill him. But right now we need to make sure our friend is okay, now Y/N what happened?”

You choked out what just happened, body shaking in disbelief. “I don’t want to hurt Daisy she’s innocent in this” Both Jamie and Amy enclosed you in a hug “Honey, Daisy won’t think that you’re in the wrong, he was the one who kissed you. He was the one in the relationship, he’s to blame not you” comforted Jamie holding you close. “So another round?” Amy suggested

Now it felt easier to cope with the pain, you still yearn for him. You know that you’ll always love him but you now know that it’s time for you to move on.

Both you and Jamie sat opposite each other at the table finishing up your food, Chinese takeout as you were both too hungover from the night before to cook anything . “I’ve never tried orange chicken before coming into this country but now I’m obsessed” Jamie moaned lifting his chopsticks to his lips. You hummed in agreement chewing on your egg roll. Both of your phones buzzed in unison, you both stared at each other eyebrows raised In confusion, why did someone message you both at the same time?

You looked over at your phone, the Instagram alert said: Anthony Mackie’s birthday sushi

You checked the chat in anticipation to see his name. Relief flooded over you seeing that it was only you, Jamie and Mackie in the chat.

“Are you two coming it’s this Saturday?” “Count me in” “I suppose I can make it if I don’t have anything better to do” “Wow thanks Jamie, I feel so loved” “He’s kidding we’ll both be there”

“I’m glad that he didn’t invite Sebastian” You sighed in relief, placing your phone down on the table. “Same, they definitely have some plans considering he’s Mackie’s best friend”

You both walked towards the restaurant, with a big smile plastered on your face as you liked Mackie and your glad that he hasn’t stopped your friendship due to Sebastian’s mistakes. It was 2pm you were hungry for sushi but also to catch up with Mackie as it’s been six months since filming ended.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” Jamie growled, you could feel the steam of his anger radiating from his skin.

You entered the restaurant and that was where your heart dropped, you felt sick you needed a way to escape.

There he was laughing with Mackie across from him in the booth.

Jamie darted towards the booth, “Anthony, what the fuck!” Jamie spat. “Alright calm down, I know you’re both angry-“ “That would be an understatement” you sarcastically stated “I just want to speak to you, can I speak to you please?” Sebastian begged “I owe you an explanation”

You’ve never seen Sebastian grovel or this close to tears, the empath in you came into the drivers seat and you nervously nodded.

Jamie clutched your arm close to him, “You don’t have to do this you know? We can run out of here” “I have to speak to him at interviews and during press night, I might as well rip the band aid off now and get this over with”

“ Jamie could you join me outside?” Anthony asked getting up from the booth. Jamie said nothing but gave Sebastian another one of his death stares and walked towards the door.

“How have you been?” He asked voice shaking with nerves. “Seb just get on with it, I have no business in being your friend, we’re past that ever since you kissed me behind your girlfriend’s back” He gulped, his eyes looked away from yours, “Me and Daisy broke up” he sighed rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry” “Don’t be, I broke up with her” You clenched your jaw and rolled your eyes at his pattern of breaking hearts. “I did it because of you”

That stopped you dead in your tracks, like a deer in headlights your eyes grew wide. “What?” You stuttered in disbelief, then anger grew through your voice, “don’t blame me for your break up when it’s your fault!”

He sighed, “Y/N, I broke up with you as I stupidly thought that the press and media were going to tear into me and into our relationship because of our age gap. I’ll be known as a disgusting creep who only goes after younger girls, when in reality I only date people who I can genuinely see a future with. I let my own ego and pride take priority over our relationship and I’m sorry”

You tilted your head and scrunch your face in annoyance. “ I don’t see why I have to do with your relationship being over?, that’s not an excuse for breaking my heart!”

“My PA said that I should start dating someone and suggested Daisy as she’s nearer my age and has a reputable name in the modelling world, I allowed my PA to get into my head. She said for the sake of my career I shouldn’t chase after someone who’s ten years younger. I was selfish and only thinking of myself and not how badly you would hurt. I still love you Y/N, so at the party I saw you walking away from me and I couldn’t bare it, I couldn’t live in a world without you there. Yes I was in a relationship, I was selfish and I hurt two people but I just wanted you. After that night I broke up with Daisy”

“Does she know about us?” He nodded, his eyes glanced at the table tears forming at his eyes.

You gulped loudly, feeling panic rising over you, the last thing you wanted was for Daisy to be hurt. You anxiety chipped into your brain telling you that Daisy blames you for this and it’s all your fault.

“I know you hate me Y/N” his voice trembling with the pain of his emotions, “but please give me another chance, I know I don’t deserve it. But I can’t live without you. If you say no I’ll let you go but please know that I’ll always love you”

Tears prick at your own eyes, he’s saying everything you’ve wanted to hear for months and that this is your happy ending, but your logic raged at you for the shitty way he’s treated you as he deserves to suffer the way you did. You pushed both sides aside and listened to your gut, your gut feeling decided what subconsciously you knew you wanted, allowing you to say.

“One date Seb, to see if this will work again. And I mean that we need to take this slow, start again, clean slate. We’ll have dinner to see if we can reconnect, no kissing, sex or touching me till I know for certain I’ve made the right choice” you stated, proud of yourself for standing your ground but also hoping that your gut feeling is the best decision. As now you didn’t know if this was truly the best outcome.

The smile returned to his face, his eyes still glassy. “Thank you”

Anthony and Jamie felt like it has been long enough for you two to have the conversation needed, but also slightly concerned that you didn’t kill Sebastian. God knows he deserves it but since the premier is in two months you both needed to be alive. So they both walked in to the restaurant and nervously walking towards the booth.

Jamie sat next to you and Anthony next to Sebastian.

“So what happened?” Anthony asked, half of him hoping the talk went well as he didn’t want this mess to happen on his birthday.

“I’ve decided to give Sebastian another chance, it’s just for one date to see if I’ve made the right choice” you voiced, still uncertain if this was the right call.

“Fucking hurt her like that again and I’ll gut you alive” Jamie spat, Sebastian’s eyes grew wide as he nodded in fear.

“Great memo received” Jamie smiled back at him.

A/N: is it the right choice? We’ll find out in the last chapter

Tag list: @sebsgirl71479

[redhoodieone]

You’re so Lucky!

A/N: Hey y’all! Here’s another sexy story that was a request from the amazing @jasontoddslut! Enjoy my peeps!

Warnings: Language, Bad Relationship with Ex-Boyfriend, Smut, Voyeurism, and Jason’s Goddamn Dirty Mouth!!!!!

It was bound to happen. She couldn’t deny this was going to happen sooner rather than later. If she believed they that they could get through their issues and be happy like they once were, then she’s a real fucking idiot.

Gabi still couldn’t believe it though. One minute she was trying to calm Bobby down and the next, he’s screaming at her and telling her to get the fuck out of his apartment. He was in a bad mood to begin with. He’s a mechanic and he’s always tired when he gets home. He was expecting dinner to be ready and maybe have his loving girlfriend of three years rub his back since his shoulder pain is getting worse.

But no. Gabi made the mistake of asking Bobby where he was tonight as soon as he got home.

What set him off was her telling him to calm down. She should have known though.

You should NEVER. EVER. Tell an easily angry guy to calm down.

Because that’s like telling fire to not burn people. Or telling a baby to not cry.

She should have known better though. It’s no surprise Bobby’s into some serious shady shit that the low life Gothamites meet up sometimes at night in casinos or nightclubs. She knows they do illegal shit like selling drugs, ordering weapons from other countries, and maybe even kidnapping young women and children.

And Bobby had participated in the ordering weapons category.

How Gabi found out is another story: she knows for damn sure that Bobby once brought home fifteen state of the art total militia AK-47 guns. Bobby had foolishly asked Gabi to go get some important documents from his huge safe; totally forgetting the weapons were in there about five months prior.

Why would a normal mechanic need such weapons?

Gabi had decided to never bring it up. Bobby would either deny or lie about it. His temper had been getting worse right about then and she knew better.

But he wasn’t always like this. Oh, no. Bobby was a funny, laid back, and loving type who worshipped the ground Gabi walked on before they even started dating. But after two years of living with each other, things changed.

Simple as that. Things changed.

Gabi always wondered how things could just...change. So easily. The fact that it could happen in the blink of an eye frightens her sometimes.

Just like Bobby’s hidden anger. She never knew a hilarious and sweet guy could have the rage of a bull.

Bobby never hit her though. He always made sure to slam his fist against the wall beside her head, though. He was the type to yell and belittle Gabi as if she was a little girl.

But she wasn’t a little girl. She was a 23-year-old woman who moved in with her boyfriend so fast that she began to understand why her parents and friends disapproved of her choices and relationship.

I just had to learn the hard way, Gabi thought to herself.

She doesn’t know why she’s trying to think of sayings that relate to this experience. The point is, Gabi knows she seriously fucked. With Bobby only giving her ten minutes to pack whatever truly mattered to her, she had to hurry the fuck up.

The moment she made it outside the apartment building, all Gabi could do is replay her questions that she asked Bobby.

Where were you tonight?

Were you with someone?

What did you do?

Why can’t you tell me what you did?

Are you hiding something from me?

Are you getting into dangerous things?

No wonder Bobby kicked her out. Gabi should have never put her nose in his business. And now, she’s practically homeless. She knows it would be embarrassing as hell to go back to her parents’ house because of what they told her before getting involved with Bobby. She also knows her friends would treat her horribly, with the “I told you so” stares and lectures. Gabi was certainly running out of options just as the rain began to fall.

There was one person she could go to, who would never turn her away.

However, Gabi hasn’t spoken to this person in about a year because of her relationship with Bobby as well as this person’s own relationship with their significant other.

But Gabi knew Y/N was a good person, a good friend. She was a sweet person, with a big warm heart and she would never turn her away.

With nowhere else to go, Gabi walked alone in the rain all the way down to high class side of Gotham.

By the time Gabi gets to the high-class penthouses, she has to call Y/N to let her inside. Of course, Y/N excitedly tells her to come up, and Gabi immediately starts to feel somehow relieved that Y/N hasn’t changed at all.

As Gabi finally makes it to the correct floor, she sees Y/N waiting by the door, where Gabi assumes is where Y/N lives. Y/N is wearing a red and black flannel pajama pants and a thin black tank top. Gabi also notices Y/N’s barefoot, and her hair’s in a messy bun.

She must have just woken up. I’m so sorry, Y/N, Gabi thinks to herself.

But none of that matters when Y/N meets Gabi halfway in the hall where they collide in a tight, warm-hearted embrace.  Y/N smells like a woodsy, musky cologne, most likely from whoever she’s seeing with now. Maybe they were snuggling up against with each other until Gabi had called and asked if she could come over.

“Come inside. You must be freezing!” Y/N says, releasing Gabi from her hug and pulling her arm towards the front door.

Gabi follows on shaky legs, completely overwhelmed by seeing her longtime best friend. Y/N giggles and leads Gabi inside the penthouse. Gabi instantly is hit by the aroma of vanilla and musk, the smell of intimacy and seduction.  Her eyes take in the red and black walls and décor, some exquisite art pieces, and the big space that is more comfortable and warmer than most homes she’s ever seen.

“Welcome, mi casa es tu casa! Seriously Gabi, babe, make yourself at home. There’s absolutely no rush to leave. You leave when you’re ready, okay?” Y/N says seriously.

“Are you absolutely sure? I really don’t want to impose or put you and your boyfriend out,” Gabi confesses.

Y/N leads Gabi to the long, cherry red couch that is facing a huge flat screen TV. Gabi sets down her duffle bag and takes a seat next to Y/N on the couch.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Jay and I insist you stay here until you figure out what you want to do, okay?” Y/N says, before she turns around to get comfortable to face Gabi.

A vanilla candle is lit on the coffee table. Gabi’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I didn’t...interrupt something, did I?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t! I was just setting the mood in the living room to be more...comfy,” Y/N admits, with a chuckle. “Jason just got home a few minutes ago and is taking a shower. He should be done by now.”

As if on cue, they hear someone walking down the hall and towards the living room. He stops near the couch. There in all his glory, well half-naked glory, stands Jason Todd, God’s greatest creation of man...at least that’s what both girls were thinking.

“Gabi, this is Jason, my boyfriend,” Y/N proudly introduces Jason to Gabi. “Jay, this is Gabi, my best friend in the whole wide world.”

Still dripping wet and fresh out of the shower, Jason at least has a white towel wrapped around his waist; hiding his goods that Gabi wanted to see so desperately. He’s really tall, must be 6’2 or something close to that. She takes note that Jason is all man: there’s absolutely nothing that screams “boy”. Gabi inhales hard when she watches his large hand run through his soaked dark hair. The other hand holds the towel tightly around his hips.

“Hi,” Jason smirks at Gabi. She notices his eyes are green, almost like emeralds. He smiles at her, even his white teeth are perfect. “So, you’re Gabi. Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

“She-she has?” Gabi chokes out. Why is it so hot in here? Why can’t she speak?

Her eyes zero in on the droplets of water running down his strong as fuck built chiseled chest and perfectly sculpted abs that she really wants to lick and bite his skin.

Holy fuck...

Gabi scolds herself for thinking such inappropriate thoughts about her best friend’s boyfriend. Even though Gabi’s never fantasized Bobby this kind of way, she realizes Y/N’s lucked out. Bobby wasn’t in shape or even remotely attractive like Jason.

“Of course, she has. You’re one of her best friends, and I’m happy to finally meet you. I would go over there to shake your hand and properly greet you, but I’m uh...not exactly dressed yet,” Jason chuckles, and almost seems shy now. “I’m gonna go get dressed real quick so we can talk.”

You don’t have to. You can stay the way you are. You can even drop the towel, Gabi thinks improperly.

Y/N smiles softly at Jason as they watch him leave. True to his word, Jason returned in a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt and took a seat next to Y/N. Throughout their comfortable and pleasant conversation, Gabi truly sees the way Jason cares about her best friend. Midway through their talk about what happened to Bobby, Jason clearly was paying attention and rubbed caressed Y/N’s thigh when Gabi recounted the latest scary fight with Bobby. Whenever Y/N looked shocked or worried, Jason made sure to calm her down through touches, forehead kisses, and whispers words along the lines of love, probably.

It almost makes Gabi jealous. Y/N’s life is clearly so much better than what Gabi had going on for herself. Jason seems like the perfect gentleman; always does and says the right thing. Gabi’s never seen a man pay so much attention to a woman before. Not only did he offer Gabi his advice and opinions on getting a better and more affordable apartment on their street, but Jason even voiced his hatred for Bobby, and even went on to criticize the man for treating women so poorly. He even made a joke about finding the man and breaking his legs; making Gabi and Y/N laugh their asses off and making the energy around them fun again.

But for some reason, Gabi couldn’t help but notice that Jason wasn’t laughing as hard as she and Y/N were. It almost seemed like Jason was serious about breaking Bobby’s legs, but Jason wouldn’t do that. She was sure of it.

He wouldn’t, would he?

By the time midnight came, the three of them stood up and decided to go to bed. Jason even surprised Gabi by giving her a hug and telling her that she can stay in their guest bedroom for however long as she wants and needs.

“I’m serious, kid. Don’t even worry about it. You mean so much to Y/N, and so therefore, you mean a lot to me, too,” Jason had said as he pulled back from their hug.

Gabi was speechless to say the least. She didn’t want the hug to end. He felt so good in her arms and he smelled so fucking good.

But it was bedtime now, and once Y/N and Jason had shown Gabi the guest bedroom, they went off to bed to let Gabi get comfortable. It wasn’t long for Gabi to quickly clean herself up and put on some plain pajama shorts with a tank top. As soon as she turned off the light, she was amazed by how big and comfortable the bed was. She figured it must be new and is probably the first person to sleep in here. In just a few minutes, exhaustion took over and Gabi fell into a deep sleep.

Her throat was dry. That’s what awoke Gabi at two in the morning and made her climb out of bed and go search for a bottle of water. She made sure to tiptoe out of the room and walk slowly and quietly to the kitchen.

As soon as Gabi made it to the end of the hallway, she stops dead in her tracks when she hears moaning. A woman moaning.

Her mind registers that it’s Y/N moaning. But why is she moaning in the living room?

Curiosity forces Gabi to peek out into the living room and see what’s going on, despite the logical part in her mind is screaming at her to have some respect for her best friend and her boyfriend.

But being a pervert outweighs being a prude.

Gabi is utterly shocked to her core when she sees her best friend straddling Jason’s lap. On the red couch where they sat a couple of hours ago, Gabi sees Y/N and Jason making out heavily. She couldn’t unsee it; she wants to keep watching them.

Gabi even sees the vanilla candle is lit again, after Jason had blown it out before they all went to bed.

But all Gabi could see is Jason’s fingertips digging hard into Y/N’s exposed flesh from where her tank top is pushed up above her bare tits. Y/N shamelessly moans in between the evident delicious kisses, and grinds against Jason’s apparent bulge.

Gabi quickly notices an isolated leather recliner that’s against the wall near the hallway. She throws herself down, sinks into the chair and watches the practically live porno show in front of her.

Jason pulls back from the deep kiss, revealing his red, swollen lips from where Y/N’s been biting and sucking since the beginning. He rests his head back against the couch and looks up with hazy, lustful eyes as Y/N grins down at him. She bites her bottom lip and pulls up her tank top, removing her top completely from her body.  

“Fuck...what the hell are you doing to me, sweetheart?” Jason asks breathlessly. He runs his hands up Y/N’s back and moves them to her front where he reaches for both her tits.

“I’m slowly...and softly killing you,” Y/N says, closing her eyes and moans when Jason gently grabs both her tits in his hands; her breasts fill his hands perfectly.

“I’d say...” he says, before sighing contently when switches from pinching her nipples to squeezing her tits before he sits up straighter and pulls Y/N’s body closer to lick and suck her sensitive nipples.

“Oh, fuck...oh Jay...feels so good,” Y/N moans louder than before. She whimpers and continues to rub herself against him. “I need to cum...please make me cum, Jay...”

Jason pulls back from her chest and gazes into Y/N’s eyes. “You wanna cum, doll? Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, please...I need you so bad!”

“No, I don’t think you need to cum,” Jason teases, before he pulls off his own t-shirt. “Now, I’m going to take off the rest of your clothes, but if you touch your pussy, I ain’t going to fuck you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Y/N snaps. Her cheeks are flushed from being aroused.

Jason smirks at Y/N’s frustration.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, sweetheart. I’m going to check how wet you are,” Jason explains, as he raises Y/N off his lap to pull down her pajama pants and panties; leaving her completely bare on his lap. “If you’re soaking wet, then I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be feeling me for days. But if I have to make you wet, then that means I get to do whatever I want to this pussy.”

“But-”

Jason runs his hand up Y/N’s thigh until his fingers glide over her bare pussy. His fingers gently push inside her, he can feel the wetness, but wants to see it for himself.

“Stand up and put your pussy in my face,” he demands.

“What?”

“I want to taste your delicious pussy right now. Don’t make me get up and literally put you on my shoulders to eat you out,” Jason threatens.

Y/N slowly moves to stand up carefully on the couch. Her legs are shaking, but Jason quickly grabs her to hold her steady. He doesn’t waste any time, and he dives into her pussy as if he’s a starving man.

“Oh fuck!” Y/N cries out.

Jason’s tongue on her clit is what she wants the most right now. He squeezes her thigh and flicks his tongue side to side until Y/N fears she’s either going to fall back or fall over him.

Y/N notices one of Jason’s pull up bars is above her. How convenient.

She grabs a hold of the bar to hold herself up just as he decides to slip a finger inside her. Holding herself up allows him to remove a hand from her thigh. He takes the opportunity to slip another finger inside and pumps them in and out fast.

Y/N’s body trembles when Jason curls his fingers and strokes the sensitive wall that he’s mastered so well. He can tell she’s close. She must have been excited earlier when they planned to stay in last minute. He manages to look up at her and he can see she’s barely holding on.

“You’re so close aren’t you, babe? You taste so fucking good that I want you to cum on my face. I want you to be my dirty girl tonight,” Jason says as he finger-fucks her harder and faster than before. “Are you going to be my dirty girl tonight?

“Yes! Fuck yes! Just-just make me cum, please!” Y/N cries out desperately, needing the push that Jason could only give her.

“You are my dirty girl. You love it when I make you cum with just my fingers and mouth. But I bet you want my cock right after, huh?” Jason asks, chuckling darkly when Y/N’s eyes roll back when he speeds up his fingers inside her. “You wanna ride me, don’t you?”

“Yes-yes I do...” she’s panting now.

“Okay, I want you to cum in my face and then quickly get on my lap and ride me. Fast, slow, hard, whatever, you pick. I just want to feel your warm, tight pussy around my dick, okay?” Jason says, quickly shoving his sweatpants and boxers down to his feet. “Fuck...give me your pretty, tasty pussy, sweetheart!”

And then Jason finally gives in. He pulls both her thighs to bring her pussy to his face. Y/N whimpers when he licks all around her wetness, and he hums in approval when he feels her hand stroking his scalp and pulling his hair, while she continues holding herself up with only one hand now.

The vibration from his humming helps her reach her release. He continues to thrust his fingers inside her and sucks her clit until she gushes in his face.

Y/N manages to silent most of her orgasm, but it didn’t help when Jason continued to lick and suck at her clit to swallow most of her juices. Once her body relaxes, she lets go of the pull up bar and drops down to the couch. Y/N quickly straddles Jason’s lap until her pussy is hovering above his hard cock.

“Spit on my cock, doll. Get it nice and wet,” Jason says, as he watches Y/N spit in her hand and stroke his thick cock until he’s nice and ready for her. “How are you going to ride me, sweetheart?”

Y/N slowly looks up into Jason’s dilated, misty eyes. “Deep. Hard. And fast,” she says.

Jason swallows hard but is able to quickly smirk up at Y/N before she takes full control. “Then ride me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my cock like the dirty girl you really are.”

Y/N finally lowers herself onto Jason’s cock, all logic and common sense flies out the window. Whenever his cock was deep inside her, they both tend to lose themselves and the world around them. Because whenever they were connected emotionally and physically in their bubble, nothing else fucking matters in the world.

When Jason fills her up completely, they both release a content sigh. They usually take their time in the beginning, mostly because of their fears whenever Jason leaves to work as Red Hood. But since they’re both so horny and want to cum sooner, they’ll have to just take their time during round two.

“Fuck me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself silly on my dick,” Jason moans, but he and Y/N laugh at the “silly” part, when he realizes that’s not very sexy.

But Y/N understands and slowly lifts herself up his lap until just the tip of Jason’s cock is inside her. She keeps a steady pace, lifting herself and lowering herself, until their rhythm flows. Within seconds, Jason helps her by holding her hips tightly and thrusting his hips in time with hers.

“Your cock is so big inside me, Jay. You fill me up so good,” Y/N moans and rides him a little faster; wanting the head of his cock to rub hard and relentlessly against her g-spot. She guides one of his hands off her waist to move towards her pussy, encouraging him to rub her clit. “I wanna cum again, Jay.”

“Yeah? You like ridin’ my big cock, you dirty girl? You want me to fill your pussy with my cum?” Jason asks, watching Y/N’s tits bounce while she rides his cock faster than before. He can’t help himself, he uses a free hand to pinch her nipple and leans in to bite and suck her breasts, until he puts his hand back to her hip to guide her thrusts. “You want me to fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes! Yes, please!” Y/N begs.

“Okay, my dirty girl. I’ll give you what you want.”

Well, Jason knows now that this is going to end fast, but he refuses to let it end without Y/N cumming hard again. He squeezes her hip with one hand and the other hand rubs her clit fast in messy circles. He begins to pull her down to meet his thrusts, fucking her harder and faster with everything he’s got. The squelching sound from his cock fucking up into her wet pussy becomes more noticeable, especially when their skin-on-skin slapping gets louder and harsher that echoes in the living room.

“Fuck...Y/N, you’re getting so tight. You feel so fucking good baby,” Jason pants hard, completely sweating and keeping his fast and erratic pace to get them to their releases. “Fuckin’ cum on my big cock, sweetheart. I wanna feel you cum so bad. Please cum for me, again.”

Y/N keeps her eyes on Jason just as her orgasm hits her hard; she squeezes and gushes around his cock, she calls out his name. Jason thrusts harder in her three more times, as he finally cums hard inside Y/N, calls out her name as quietly as he could. Y/N collapses against Jason’s chest, despite being hot and sweaty, but he doesn’t mind. He wraps both arms around her and holds her while they regain their breaths and can function normal again.

Y/N doesn’t see the loving smile Jason gives her as he kisses her forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, and hugs her tighter.

She looks up at him and smiles. “I love you, too.”

Before Y/N can lie her head against Jason’s chest again, she notices Gabi sitting and watching them. Y/N jumps up and covers her breasts with her arms, causing Jason to jump in panic and turn around to see what’s going on.

“Gabi! What-what the hell are you doing there?!” Y/N cries out in embarrassment. She can feel her cheeks are getting red again.

Gabi slowly gets up from the chair and makes her wave into the kitchen. She finds bottled water in the refrigerator, takes one, and goes back into the living room where Jason and Y/N are still frozen in fear.

“I-I was thirsty,” Gabi answers, even though she knows it sounds like a lame answer. She walks backwards until she reaches the hall. “And-and then I saw you guys, and then I couldn’t stop watching. I’m sorry, Y/N...Jason...”

But before Gabi leaves, she points a finger at Jason and smiles. She even chuckles. “But-but in my defense...he’s really sexy! He’s fucking gorgeous, Y/N, and you’re one lucky bitch! You’re so lucky!”

But Gabi is right about that.

Y/N is lucky...because she has Jason.

[nikethestatue]

I think it’s time for a RANT

Why is it Elain’s responsibility to reject the bond with Lucien?

Here is an example from my own life--when I was a kid, I grew up in a lot of different places, but primarily in countries, where engagements did not exist. There was no concept of an ‘engagement’. There was no dropping on one knee, no formal proposals, and certainly no ring or other expensive jewelry. Men asked women to marry them, hopefully it was a ‘yes’ and then they maybe planned a wedding celebration, if there was enough money. And if not, then they went to to justice of the peace, signed a paper and went home to celebrate. That’s it.

So, once I moved to the US, for the longest time, I couldn't understand the concept of engagement. Like what was it for? Why the waiting period? If you want to get married, just marry, and that’s it. (There was also no 40K weddings where I lived that you needed to mortgage a house for, to afford). It was just a weird cultural thing and it took a while and acquaintance with the US culture to begin to understand.

Why would Elain, who grew up a human, and has no knowledge of bonds, and places no importance on them (much like Nesta, mind you) be the one who should be dealing with this bond fiasco?

Just because Rhys explained it to Feyre, doesn’t mean that Elain is aware of everything that this stupid bond entails. Does she know that Lucien can potentially go insane or some other dramatic thing like that? All she knows is that she doesn’t really like him or want him, he is part of the reason her engagement fell through and she was rejected, and she clearly doesn’t feel pressed by this bond. She isn’t feral, she doesn’t miss him, she isn’t going crazy if he is hurt (or feels it at all)--none of the ‘normal’ bond emotions and cravings apply to her. She is also desiring another male, and doesn’t care that Lucien is even in the same house when she engages in a romantic interlude with this other man. 

Of course it beckons the question as to what is wrong with their bond, but that’s a whole different conversation.

But, let’s ask this--if Lucien is so invested in this bond (which he clearly isn’t, since he is shacking up in the human lands with 2 other people), then why doesn’t he sit down with her and explain it to her? Why does he not offer to court her? She comes from a certain background, where it’s clear that there are  formalities that have to be acknowledged and followed around engagement and matrimony. But does HE know about any of it? Does he try to find out how courtship/engagements/marriages work in the human lands? Doesn’t seem like it. Yet, the expectation is that Elain spends hours in the Library poring over tomes, learning about the bond.

So, if we are asking the questions ‘well, why doesn’t Elain reject the bond? why doesn’t she give Lucien a chance? why doesn’t she learn more about it?” then why are we not asking the same questions of Lucien--why doesn’t he take her on a date? Yes, she could decline, but then, at least he tried! Why doesn’t he ask Feyre, for example, to talk to Elain about the bond and how to operate within its confines? 

Why do readers, and characters, have this expectation that ‘Elain should deal with the bond’? Elain is not obligated to make Lucien, or any other male feel good about themselves, or make them comfortable, or not hurt their feelings (though again, I don’t feel like she is hurting his feelings, because he doesn’t seem to care). 

Elain was brutally rejected by her fiancé, in front of a crowd of people, she was also thrown at this other male that she doesn’t know anything about and isn’t attracted to. As far as we know, she was also called a ‘mistake’ by another male, to whom she is clearly very attracted. Her brother-in-law, unbenounced to her, has made all these detrimental decisions about her life, without giving two thoughts about her or her wants. Did anybody care about Elain’s feelings? Elain is expected to be nice to Lucien? Why? Because he is a nice guy? Do we, as women, go out with every ‘nice guy’ that asks us out? No. We should have a say to whom we offer our affections. And we are not obligated to make any and all ‘nice guys’ feel good, and acquiesce to their desires, at our own expense.

 Elain should not be expected to traumatize herself further, by entangling herself in some bond-related brawl, with indifferent Lucien, and freakin’ Beron snapping at the heels, and power-hungry, politically motivated Rhys, and the pining Azriel. The bond is not her thing. The bond is not her responsibility. She can do whatever the hell she wants--ignore it, accept it, reject it, breaking it, because the onus should not be on her, as a female to please all these males around her and offer them an answer. 

Nesta had the bond actually snap into place, and still she didn’t want to acknowledge it, standing in front of angry, puppy-eyed Cassian who is melting with love for her, and she is enflamed by love for him. And she was basically ‘yeah, I don’t want it. I am calling in the bargain! I don’t care. I wanna go be with my girlfriends! We are not discussing it.”

Feyre, while clearly in love with Rhys, who is also badly injured, leaves him in the mud in an Illyrian training camp and demands to be hidden, because she can’t deal with the bond. 

Yet Elain, who is barely a participating party in this fiasco is somehow expected to make firm declarations and quick decisions. 

Hey, but that’s just me. 

[regrettablewritings]

Soulmate AU: The First Drawing You See From Your Soulmate is Tattooed on Your Skin

A detective having a tell would probably be considered inappropriate to most people. Detectives were supposed to read tells, not have them. But then again, Benoit had never been much for keeping up appearances. Besides, what was the harm in rubbing his thumb along his right wrist? It helped him focus; it helped him think.

Or at least, that was what he’d told himself. He wasn’t entirely lying, either, rather the larger whole of it all was more so that when he rubbed that spot on his skin, he felt calm. Composed. He liked to think that that was the feeling his soulmate had intended when they painted that image, whenever they made or would make it. Whatever it was. After all, it had plenty of blue in it.

He was pretty sure it was meant to be a pond or some kind of body of water; that might explain the blues and greens and maybe the bits of white that he could make out. And if he squinted his eyes a little, he could swear there were little flecks of gold. Goldfish, maybe? Honestly, he had no clue. Benoit wasn’t much for complaining or expressing a lack of gratefulness, but he couldn’t help but sometimes feel envious of those whose tattoos covered a larger part of their body. Not a massive amount, but at least just enough to be able to tell precisely what the heck their soulmate’s image was trying to portray. Clearly, the image was larger than what that patch of his skin could afford, and honest to God, he’d spent a good part of his life trying to make out what it was!

(The embarrassment of it all, he would sometimes muse deprecatingly: That the acclaimed “Last of the Gentlemen Sleuths” could solve the most absurd cases in the country, yet had spent most of his natural-born life completely stumped by what might as well have counted as a body part!)

And yet, Benoit could never stay frustrated about it; not when his thumb gently grazed against the image, imagining the smoothness of his skin ebbing into the aquatic swirls of the proposed water. But just for extra precaution, he saw no harm in distracting himself.

That afternoon’s distraction? A quick skim of the local paper, accompanied by a mug of hot tea. He tried not to think of how such a method revealed his age, instead snapping the paper open to a page discussing the local goings-on. It was the usual sort of content: The community theater’s spring production was seeking house crew members, a mom and pop-style restaurant was having an anniversary special . . . It was the same sort of thing Benoit had grown used to expecting.

But what his pale blue eyes landed on next didn’t make the rest pale by comparison -- it downright washed all else from existence: An art show.

Benoit considered himself a well-rounded person, but it was more so in an almost tongue in cheek sort of manner: As a detective, it was his job to be appropriately versed in an assortment of fields. However, a jack of all trades was never truly a master of none. Benoit’s experiences with art theft and forgeries had lent him a hand in only about as much observation as was necessary for the respective occurrences.

But . . . he knew those swirls. He knew that blue, those greens, that white -- he recognized how the gold was patterned! Sure, the cheap ink job of a colored newspaper picture might have dulled the quality ever so slightly but there was no mistake to be made: That painting was his. No . . . It was theirs!

You tried to make calming breaths without making your anxiety obvious. A nervous but otherwise acceptable smile twitched into place, fooling the guests as they wandered about the gallery. Or, at least, you certainly hoped it was fooling them; but it was probably all to be outdone by the fact that you’d been nursing the same champagne flute for the last half-hour.

Is this what “making it” feels like? you wondered. Because if it was . . . you weren’t too fond of it. You felt bad for not relishing this opportunity; the art world was highly competitive, and you were more than blessed to have had the chance to not only display your work in a showroom, but to have said room be dedicated entirely to your pieces. But in that blessing was also a curse: The curse of criticism, of weary eyes, of people both waiting to pounce on you with ribbings of how you lack the magnanimity of the classics or the free thinking of the contemporaries --

Shitshitshitsmile! You did as you were told -- both by your brain, and by your manager earlier when they walked you through how you were to compose yourself through this entire ordeal. Just smile, enunciate when spoken to, and let the potential schmoozing flow and oh god, that Karen-looking lady who definitely owns a house in Martha’s Vineyard for when she wants to get away from her husband for a day totally hated that piece you’d spent months working on, didn’t she?!

The thought made your stomach twist, your already awkward smile along with it. You inhaled sharply. You had to find something to distract yourself with. 

You turned and faced the painting nearest to you. Some might call it vanity, but you were actually quite pleased with this particular piece. That, and its blueness gave you a sense of . . . serenity. You imagined the ripples washing over you and into you, the scent and sound of the painted environment gently caressing your nose and drowning out both the stench of perfume and pretentious chattering . . . And also, apparently, the sound of approaching footsteps.

You hadn’t realized anyone had joined your side until the rumble of a southern baritone carded through the water.

“It’s gorgeous. Isn’t it?”

You hadn’t meant to jump and appear so clumsy.

“Oh, sh -- ” You cut yourself short as you eyed the droplets of spilled, room temperature champagne. If your manager found out that you had cussed around a potential buyer, they would’ve mounted your head on the wall. Thankfully, however, the stranger didn’t appear at all fazed. If anything, the chuckle he responded with sounded genuinely amused.

“Oh, my dear girl, I’m terribly sorry!” he insisted, holding up his left hand. “I didn’t mean to scare you; I can imagine most anyone would be mighty transfixed over a piece like this.”

You gulped as you looked up at your unintentional scarer. His eyes were the same blue as the one that brought you calm just moments earlier, yet they had the almost opposite effect to you now. As you looked into them, you didn’t feel calm; not necessarily: Instead, you felt your heart beginning to ripple the pattern of the painting, your cheeks burning as bright as the gold swirling amongst the little waves. And yet you found yourself transfixed by them, only offered freedom when the older gentleman offered you a hint of a smile. A warm one.

Crap! Uh -- Answer his question! Think of something to say! your mind scrambled.

“Uh . . .” you stammered. The only way to save what atoms of confidence you still had left was to turn your eyes back to the painting. “I -- I should hope so.” Smooth. You tried to remember your calming breaths. You heard the man hum, shifting his position ever so slightly in your peripheral.

“What can you tell me about it?” he asked, revealing just how close to you he truly was. You could feel the warmth of his person and the richness of his voice vibrating into you. Or perhaps it was butterflies? Maybe both? Well, whatever it was, it almost made you stumble over your words. You’d spent the entire evening up to that point rehearsing stories of your inspirations, recounting whatever education you had to people who probably didn’t give a crap.

But this instance was different: Maybe it was foolishness sourced from a sudden and sophomoric attraction, but you almost wanted to believe that perhaps this man genuinely cared. That he was genuinely interested in what you as the actual artist had to say and not you as some painting mannequin made to recite lines over and over.

The excitement of such a possibility broke through your nerves . . . and, unfortunately, right out of your mouth.

“I just really wanted to paint a mermaid in a mall coin fountain,” you admitted. You wanted to kick yourself. Up until that point, you’d been rather proud of your nifty little idea. But when you said it out loud, you sounded ridiculous! You could barely hide the reactionary wince, much less how your breathing hitched and hiccuped with nervousness. Just as soon as it had come, the hope that perhaps this man was different disappeared, leaving you awaiting his ridicule.

A ridicule that never came. Instead, there was quiet between the both of you. Perhaps he was at a loss for words?

“Mm,” he hummed, making you tense with expectation. You glanced at him just enough to see him nod, his blue eyes still focused on the canvas before him. “Go on . . .”

You blinked. Was he . . . for real?

“I . . . What more is there to say?” you wondered. The entire night, nobody had really asked for more on your part. They usually just took whatever purple prose you gave them and left it at that. Your initial assumption was right after all: This gentleman was cut from a different cloth from the lot.

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “What inspired this?”

“Oh, uh . . . Well . . .” Was it worth telling him? Aw, hell: you’d already made a bit of a fool of yourself being honest, so what harm was there in doing it some more? “I did it because I never saw anything about a mermaid that lived in a mall fountain, collecting the coins people toss in there.”

You didn’t even have a chance to worry about his criticism before the man’s features broke into a smile. It wasn’t like the others’ more courteous grins; this one reached his eyes, making their icy coolness warm and welcoming. You hated the cheesiness of it all, but for a very split second you wished that you could be a mermaid in them.

He chuckled once again. “Can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything concerning a coin-hoarding mermaid myself, let alone a professional art piece.” It was small, but the assurance made you offer your own smile.

“Well . . . But then maybe I have . . .” At that, your heart dropped. There it was: The anticipated criticism. He thought you were a hack after all: Uninspired, boorish, unskilled, whatever word there was to describe a person who didn’t know how to use a fan brush properly if any.

The wound stung as one so sudden should: Heavily and down to your core. You wanted the floor to open up and eat you whole. Or better yet: You wanted to climb into your apparently uninspired painting and drown in the mall fountain. But none of those could be an option, and neither was the possibility of hiding in the bathroom or an empty corridor. Instead, you had to put on a brave face and do your best to get through the moment.

“Oh?” you uttered. Your throat pained from the threat of anxiety. “Where do you suppose? I’ll admit, I’m not much into contemporary art so I don’t know the what’s what of what if you catch my drift.” You tried to weakly smile at your sad attempt for a joke. God, this so wasn’t what “making it” felt like.

But the man didn’t offer a courteous hint of laughter. Nor did he offer you a verbal response. Instead, he turned to face you. You did the same, even though you really didn’t want to. But it was the polite and expected thing to do when being confronted. Damn politeness and courteousness.

You weren’t sure how to respond when the man began to make work of his right sleeve, unbuttoning the cuff and beginning to roll the rest of it up. Your paranoia was unfortunately the first to respond due to your preexisting discomfort of the entire ordeal of an evening. You were just about prepared to scream, yelp, make any kind of distressed call -- only for it to trickle out into a gasp. An amazed exhale. The image the man presented to you on his wrist was small. Clearly, for it to be recognized for what it was, it needed a larger stretch of skin to belong to. But you knew what it was: You knew those swirls, the placements of those flecks of gold, those blues and greens surrounded by white.

For the umpteenth time that evening, your breathing changed. Only, you were pretty positive that none of your deep breathing would be necessary this time around; you would be more than happy to look at your painting on your soulmate’s skin for the rest of the night.

Epilogue:

“Mr. Blanc, please,” you insisted. “You’ve grown up with that thing on your arm, surely you’re bored with it by now. You can have your pick of the gallery. Hell, I’ll even make you something on request!”

Pickings hadn’t become slim, but the night had ended surprisingly successful. Well, surprising to you: You hadn’t expected anyone to buy anything of yours that evening, let alone six. You supposed that perhaps they just wanted to participate in the elitism brought on by owning newcomer art. Benoit, however, insisted that the buyers simply had functioning eyes. What a sweet-talker your soulmate was.

You watched as he shook his head stubbornly, eyes still fixated on the painting that adorned his wrist. He’d seen all the other remaining paintings, and even the ones that wound up selling by evening’s end. They were all gorgeous, he insisted, but . . .

“Benoit, if you will, Ms. (Y/N),” he corrected, apparently missing the irony. He gestured insistently at the composition. “And no. I . . . I truly would be quite satisfied with this one.” He heard you raspberry in defeat as you made your way back to his side, folding your arms in exasperation. 

“Seriously, though,” you sighed. “Is a painting of a mermaid dwelling in, like, a fountain you can find nearby an Auntie Anne’s really . . .” You waved a hand as if searching for the right word. “. . . Befitting? Of a detective’s abode? I was thinking more of a bucolic piece or like a portrait of some kind or . . .” You trailed off, only to be met with an amused huff.

“Some detective I am,” Benoit muttered. He broke his gaze back to you and placed his hands on his hips. “Took me well over a damn decade or two to learn what it even was. And only because you told me!”

[tonystarksfavoritedaughter]

Crazy Rich Avengers: Chapter 2

Peter Parker x Reader

Chapter Summary: Tony is oblivious, Shuri is a queen as always, Peter is breakfast man and Y/N’s a grandma

Warnings: swearing and one mention of sex

Word count: 2589

*Flashback to Wednesday*

“Alright troops, let’s get this party started.” Tony walked into the debriefing room that was used for only meetings, but this week it had a new purpose: discussing Wanda and Vision’s wedding plans. Everyone was gathered around a circular table with plans and maps strewn out across the table.

“What made you guys want to get married in Maui?” Nat turned to Wanda and Vision. Wanda simply shrugged, “We just wanted to see what the island has to offer.”

“Plus Mr. Stark has that lovely beach house in Spreckelsville,” Vision added.

“Are y’all inviting Peter and Y/N to the wedding?” Sam asked

“Of course! Why wouldn’t we?” Wanda seemed kind of offended that Sam would ask that. She was very close with Peter and the way he talked about you always made her warm inside knowing that he found someone he really loved. She was kind of like a second aunt to him in a way, though no one could top Aunt May.

“Oh, I love Y/N so much. Did you guys tell her happy birthday two weeks ago?” Nat asked.

A couple of ‘I forgot’’ and ‘Oh shit’ replies made their way into the group and Nat just shook her head.

“Wait wait wait. Who’s Y/N?” Tony was so confused. He had never heard of a Y/N Y/L/N before. Was she an employee close with Wanda? And why was she with Peter?

“What do mean who’s Y/N?” Steve asked.

“She’s Peter’s girlfriend, Stark.” Bucky stated it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And it kind of was. Peter would come into the Compound on the weekends sometimes for training and just gush about you to everyone and even Bucky seemed to know who you were. And he never pays attention to Peter. Tony just sat there, not knowing what to say to hearing his intern having a girlfriend.

“Pete has girlfriend?” How come you all knew and I didn’t?”

Thor took a swig of his drink. “Because you do not listen to the Man of Spiders.”

At this moment Shuri, T’Challa, and Okoye walk in, with papers and blueprints in only T’Challa and Okoye’s hands, while Shuri sips her iced coffee, like the bad bitch she is.

“Hey what’s up losers?” She walked in and took the papers from their hands and spread them out on the table. She turned to Wanda and Vision. “Okay so I developed a knew sound system for the reception that does not require a DJ, and you can choose which one you want!” They all look at the plans and sure enough, there were about four different designs that they could choose from. Wanda and Vision had put Shuri in charge of all the technological elements of the wedding because she was clearly the smartest out of all of them.

T’Challa stepped up to the table. “Sorry we are late; my sister had to bring all of her designs and took about three hours to pack.”

“What? I have to look my best for the wedding. We all know you just throw clothes into a suitcase and call it a day.” She turned towards everyone else. “The only shoes he brought were his flip flops.”

“What you don’t like my royal sandals?” He puts up his foot to show off his shoes and turned to Okoye for support. She just shook her head. “I’m not getting in the middle of this, but if I were to choose a side, I agree with Shuri.”

Shuri laughed in T’Challa’s face and fist bumped Okoye and he looked at them and shook his head.

“What do you two know what fashion?” He asked.

“More than you,” they both said at the same time. This got everyone laughing around the table and Steve did his classic belly laugh where he grabbed the side of his chest and basically fell over.

Shuri turned to Wanda, “So, whose all invited to your big day?”

“Well, we invited Peter and Y/N –“

“Yes! Sorry I just can’t wait to meet her for the first time. Go on.”

Wanda laughed, “Aren’t we all? Also, Peter’s friend Ned is invited because he helps us all out on missions. What is it he calls himself?”

“The Guy in the Chair,” Vision replied.

“Ah yes, and of course all of you people. We wanted to keep it small,” Wanda finished.

“You know,” Sam started, turning to the royal bunch. “Stark over here didn’t know that Pete had a girlfriend.”

“What?” They all three gasped.

Okoye spoke this time, “We live all the way in Wakanda, and knew about this. You live twenty minutes away.”

“We know. It’s ridiculous,” Rhodey spoke.

“Okay and is there a specific song that you are walking down to?” Shuri asked.

“We chose the song ‘To My Future Wife’ by Mr. Jon Bellion,” Vision replied

“Oh, I love his songs!”

“We figured it represented our love for each other,” Wanda looked at Vision and gave him a peck on the lips, with hearts in both of their eyes. A bunch of aw’s filled the room as a response to the couple.

*Flashback ends*

You wake up at around three thirty in the morning to your alarm. You were essentially trapped in Peter’s arms and had to pry yourself out to get up and get ready. You threw a pillow at him to wake him up.

“What was that for?” He groaned.

“Come on. We got to get up or we’ll miss the flight.”

He got up with a sigh and got ready. He just dressed in jeans and that tight black t-shirt that you loved. Why would he pick that for a flight? You bit your lip and just turned away getting ready yourself. You picked out your black leggings and a white shirt because you wanted to be comfy for the 12+ hour flight ahead of you.

You packed your purse as your carry on which had your phone chargers, headphones, perfume, you know, the essentials for flying.

“What are we going to do for breakfast?” He asked. Peter was a breakfast man and so deciding what to eat in the morning was very important for him.

“There’s a coffee place at the airport; don’t worry, Pete.”

You left your apartment at around four in the morning and made sure that everything was turned off and nothing was out of the ordinary. You two take an Uber to JFK and almost fell asleep again. One thing was for sure, you were taking a nap as soon as you got on the plane. When you got there, you checked in with the front desk and saw that your flight would take off at 5:30am. So, you took Peter to the little coffee stand in the airport to get him some energy and food. He got a mocha iced coffee with a blueberry scone and you got a caramel macchiato and a breakfast bagel. You sat down near where your flight would be boarding and ate your food. You were so excited to eat because your favorite breakfast item was just a good bacon, egg, and cheese bagel. You bit into it and sighed out in a state of peace.

You had downloaded a few episodes of your favorite shows on your laptop so you and Peter could watch them together. You had downloaded some from The Office, Brooklyn 99, Parks and Rec, and The Good Place. You pulled out your laptop and headphones and gave one earbud to Peter so he could watch too. You decided to watch the episode of The Office where Michael hosts the Fun Run for Rabies.

About an hour later they started to board for your flight and packed everything up and walked over to the flight attendant.

“Right this way,” she said. She led you past the economy class and into first class and you started to get suspicious. There was no way you could afford this. Sure, you had some money put into savings, but it wasn’t much. She led you into one of cabins and you put your purse down.

“Uh ma’am?” You called out.

“Yes?”

“Um there must be some mistake, I mean… we’re economy people. Like, we’re broke, there’s no way that we’re in first class.”

“Are you sure? You two are Y/N Y/L/N and Peter Parker, right?” She asked confused.

“Tony, I swear,” Peter sighed.

“What?”

“I told Mr. Stark to not upgrade us because we were fine, but I guess he didn’t listen.”

“Oh.”

The flight attendant walked away and you fell on the bed. The cabin had a little TV on the opposite wall and the bed facing it. Night tables were on both sides of the bed with little lamps that made it kind of cozy. You walked around the small room looking at the different little pictures of beaches from different countries. There were a set of silk pajamas on your nightstand and you held them up to Peter.

“These are nicer than my actual clothes!” Peter just laughed at how excited you were and pulled you down on the bed. He rubbed your thighs and started to kiss your neck and sucked lightly and slowly worked his way up to your ear and nibbled on it.

“As much as I would love to continue this, I am not having sex on a plane,” you laughed.

He laid down on the bed with you, “Well what do you wanna do then?”

“Tell me about everyone that’s going to be there. I want to be prepared to meet them when we get there.”

“Okay for starters, there’s Wanda and Vision, Wanda has like these mind-reading powers, so be careful about what you’re thinking around her. There have been plenty of times where I’ve thought about you in an adult way that’s caused her to not to be near me sometimes. But she’s awesome. She’s kind of like my second aunt when May’s not around; we’re really close.”

“Good to know. It’s also a good thing she’s not here right now because all I can think about is you in that shirt,” you wink at him.

He laughs and kisses your nose, “Vision is also pretty cool. You’ve seen Vision in like pictures and everything so you know he can shift between robot and human form, so that’s cool. Um, he’s just really chill and laid back. There’s also Sam and Bucky.”

“Oh yeah you’ve told me about them. Do they still tease you a lot?”

“Not much anymore, but I’m sure they will when they see us together,” he sighed. Yesterday when he went to the Compound for his camera, they had mentioned that Peter wouldn’t be getting much packing done if he knew what they meant. Peter did know what they meant and just rolled his eyes at them.

“Sam’s pretty cool when he’s not teasing me, and then he’s kind of a jerk, but overall he’s cool; you’ll probably get along more with him than anyone. He’s got a good sense of humor so,” he trailed off.

“Oh okay. Now what about Bucky?”

“Bucky still doesn’t really like me, all because of what happened in Berlin.”

“Sounds like he’s petty.”

“Yeah he kind of is,” he laughed.

He goes through telling you about all the Avengers and what they’re like. They all sounded pretty chill and fun to hang around.

“By the way, Ned is going to be there.”

“What? Really?” You neatly shouted because you haven’t seen him since about a month before college classes started. He had gone all the way to MIT for college, and the last time you saw him, was when you and Peter had helped him move into his dorm.

“Why is he going?”

“He’s like our ‘Guy in the Chair’ for the team. Tells us where to go on missions, and helps out with the team, so I guess Wanda and Vision wanted him there.”

“At least there will be someone I know and close with,” you laugh at Peter’s fake hurt expression.

“You’ll have me, baby.”

“Yeah, but you’ll probably be talking to everyone and doing wedding stuff and I’ll be just hanging out. But now I have Ned! Now, tell me about Mr. Tony Stark. I know he’s kind of like your father-figure as you put it sometimes. Do you think he’ll like me, or will he go all Papa Bear on me and tell me that I’m not good enough?” You joked.

“He should be cool with you. Mr. Stark’s a pretty easy-going guy so I don’t think there will be a problem. Unless you try to crash the wedding,” he smiled.

“Yeah I’m totally gonna crash it and just get shit-faced at the wedding.” It was now close to seven o’clock in the morning and you and Peter were wide awake and couldn’t go back to sleep and still had another thirteen hours to go, so you just pulled your laptop back out and put on one of your shows and cuddled with Peter.

He held your waist against his and laid his head on top of yours. Your arms were wrapped around his torso and head on his chest, watching TV. You stayed like this for a couple of hours. You eventually got bored and started playing a game on your phone.

“Whatcha playing?” He asked.

“Candy Crush.”

He laughed at your game choice. “You’re such a grandma.”

“What? Just because I like candy crush that makes me grandma?’

“Yep.”

You lightly slap his chest as a response and watched his smile turn wide into a laugh. God those eye crinkles, I swear, you thought. It was kind of true though, everyone in your family and in high school called you the grandma friend of the group because you picked crocheting and baking of all hobbies, just like a grandma. And apparently Candy Crush was now considered a grandma game.

“Okay, I’d like to see you beat an ultra-hard level where you only have twenty moves to save 10 gummy bears,” you challenged him.

“Is that seriously a level on there?”

“Yes, and I beat it on the first try. Why, you scared?”

“No, had me your phone.”

You gladly give it to him and throughout the level you have to hold in your laughs because seeing his face scrunch up in frustration may have been the best thing ever.

“Shit!” He exclaimed

“What, did you lose?”

“No,” he lied. You held out your hand for your phone and saw that he lost on the level.

“Ha! Loser,” you poked his chest as you teased him. “It’s a shame you lost though, because losers don’t get prizes.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s my prize?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You shrugged. “Guess you got to win if you want to find out.”

This time he held out his hand for your phone. “Just know, you got four more chances to win before you run out of lives.” Peter tried so hard at the game and gently slammed your phone in frustration and you giggled. Let’s just say that Peter didn’t get his prize. The rest of the flight consisted of watching TV and eating the surprisingly amazing airline snacks. When the nighttime came, the flight attendants turned all the lights off, kind of like a silent go to sleep call for all the passengers. You and Peter snuggled up against each other and waited for the rest of the flight to be over.  

Tag-List: @randomstufflol29 @spideyspeaches @binnotjin @lolooo22 @multi-universe21​ @ladykxxx08​ 

A/N: We got an Avengers flashback! Yay! I really wanted to incorporate the Wakandan bunch because a) Black Panther is my favorite movie, and b) They are all just amazing and I love the way that Shuri and Okoye tease T’Challa all the time and wanted to put that in this. The whole Candy Crush scene had actually happened to me before and I thought it would be nice to add a piece of me in the story, and Candy Crush is honestly underrated if you ask me lol. I hope you all really like this chapter, because the next one is going to be awesome! Thank you all for reading!

[crystaltrinket]

you put a move on me - Naruto - Uchiha Sasuke/Hyuuga Hinata - drabble series for SasuHina Month 2021

Summary: Rogue-nin Sasuke holds Hinata captive after an act of robbery goes awry.

[Rating: G-T? | Prompt: A Tribute To Your Favorite Fanart/Fic | Word Count: too many to count at this hour | Warnings: None]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21

Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28

Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31

Author's Note: Whew! Honestly, I had half of this done yesterday and worked on the rest today. Please forgive any mistakes. I relied on Google docs to correct my grammar.

I don't have a specific favorite SasuHina art or fic, so I just put together my favorite elements in SasuHina fic. Hope that works. This part is a little bit longer since I included 10 Omake pieces from Hinata's POV. Part 31 is wayyyy at the bottom but follows directly after Omake 29.5.

I hope you enjoy! And I hope to see you again next year ;) @sasuhinamonth

Omake Part 1.5 - 100 words

Hinata could feel herself moving. She willed her eyes to open but her body didn't obey. 'Am I dying? Is this death?'

She heard a low voice curse. Hinata tried to remember what happened before her vision went black. She remembered dressing in her finest kimono, getting into the palanquin and heading toward the country's borders to meet her new civilian husband. And then...

'Ah, yes,' she thought. 'The bandit murdered my clansmen in charge of handing me over to my new prison.' Red eyes came into her mind. Red eyes that could only belong to one clan.

'Uchiha Sasuke.'

Omake Part 7.5 - 100 words

Hinata steeled herself against her captor. She's no fool. She heard the rumors of his strength. Hinata figured the only way to deal with him was to pretend she was talking to another elder. Her clan head voice was something she perfected before she was cast away.

--

They rarely talked during their travels. But when he asked why she continued to follow him, she wished he kept silent. She was sure he could hear her heart beating loud in her chest.

Remembering her clan voice, she lifted her chin and answered.

Her shoulders almost slumped in relief, hearing his laughter.

Omake 10.5 - 100 words

Hinata could tell he was lying.

She can't imagine he accepted his clan's massacre so easily. To live without hearing their voice, seeing their smile, feeling their touch. Hinata's heart clenched.

She knew herself how the loss of a loved one can affect a person's psyche.

Unfortunately, O-bon festivities don't allow a grieving person the impact of acceptance.

Still, she doesn't pry and lets him rest. Her eyes wandered to him laying beside her on the hillside. Without his perpetual frown, he looked peaceful.

Hinata closed her eyes and exhaled.

She wished she could feel as peaceful as Sasuke looked.

Omake Part 12.5 - 100 words

She repeated those words to herself after Sasuke's team found out she was a missing-nin. Hinata shut her eyes, unwilling to cry. She couldn't give up her freedom now.

'I don't want to go back.'

Hinata felt a light tap on her shoulder. Sasuke was ready to go.

--

He said nothing to her on their journey. He didn't mention where they were headed to his teammates either.

She half expected him to desert her. The other half hoped that he wouldn't leave her.

At night, she repeated those same words to him. His eyes were understanding and she felt relief.

Omake 17.5 - 100 words

Hinata softly cursed. Of course her plan to lure the ANBU team away didn't work. Nothing ever worked in her favor.

She bit her lip, trying to figure out the best course of action to save Sasuke. Hinata grinned, seeing the telltale sway of long brown hair.

She deactivated her bloodline and made herself comfortable in her position. She waited.

--

Hinata was ready to confront them and rescue Sasuke at sunrise. But a commotion entirely not her own, brought them out ready to strike. Seeing her opportunity, Hinata revealed herself. Chakra blazed at her hands.

"I'll fight you for him."

Omake 22.5 - 100 words

Sasuke's breathing steadily became regular as she talked about their former village. She continued a little more even though he was already in deep sleep. Hinata glanced over her shoulder to peek at him. Carefully, she turned to fully face him.

Hinata studied him. Memorizing every line from his travels, the eyebags from lack of sleep, the face that she grew accustomed to seeing everyday.

She felt tears drip from her eyes. 'I can't believe I was so foolish.' Hinata hid her face in her hands. Her shoulders gently shook as she tried to maintain composure in Sasuke's sleeping embrace.

Omake 25.5 - 180 words

Frustration bubbled inside her. Karin and Suigetsu, sitting across from each other, continued to argue despite their shared goal. Hinata sat adjacent to them, anger simmering underneath her calm façade.

"Hinata-sama," Juugo came up behind her, carrying a tray of tea. He placed the tray beside her and took his place, sitting behind her.

"Thank you, Juugo-san," Hinata took the lone cup. "Had I known it would be like this, I would've left myself."

"Sometimes, they need a little help." His voice lowered. "If you know what I mean, Hinata-sama."

She hummed thoughtfully and sipped from her cup, testing the temperature.

"This is very good tea, Juugo-san," Hinata placed it back on the tray.

The large man bowed his head, smiling. "Thank you, Hinata-sama."

The other two continued to argue, their thumping rattling the tray.

Hinata moved swiftly, her fingers deftly touching their chakra points.

Stunned, the two bickering teammates fell on the ground.

"What gives?!" Karin yelled. Suigetsu sneered at her from his position.

Hinata calmly retrieved her tea. "Now, I have your attention. Let's talk about rescuing Sasuke."

Omake 27.5 - 100 words

Juugo's birds flew up in a tree, ending their journey.

"Tell Juugo-san, thank you," she whispered.

Hinata felt her blood coursing through her veins. Her fingertips tingled in trepidation.

They couldn't afford to risk Sasuke's strength. She knew who he was up against.

She snuck around the prison, evading the guards surrounding the perimeter. Hinata scaled the prison wall to reach the roof. She quickly found the ventilation shaft.

Taking a deep breath, she concentrated her thoughts on locating Sasuke's chakra signature.

'There!' It was weak, but it was his. Gritting her teeth, she made her way down the shaft.

Omake 29.5 - 172 words

Hinata knew Sasuke felt the same. The village was too quiet, too accepting of their vagrant ways. It seemed all too convenient a vacant house was available. With the previous owner having died alone, it was an opportune moment for them to move in with the village's blessing.

--

Months soon turned to a year. Sasuke's teammates came and went as they pleased, leaving Hinata with Sasuke.

She found him in the cold, practicing his kata. He moved fluidly going through the motions ingrained in his body.

She didn't want to bother him, but she knew better than to leave without notice.

"I'll be at the market," she called out. He paused mid-form to walk over to her. Seeing him in front of her, Hinata noticed his breaths were visible from the biting cold. "Is your kata keeping you warm?”

He smirked. "Aa." His eyes studied her as he tucked stray hair behind her ear. "Don't take too long."

Hinata felt her face warm up as she looked up to his face. "Aa."

Part 31 - 632 words

She went through the market, politely greeting everyone who knew her. Here, she was Hana and he was Makoto, two people not quite married but living together.

The market was a little busier during this time of year. The village was preparing for their annual snow festival. Hefting her groceries in her arms, Hinata left to return to her home.

"H-Hana-san!"

Hinata turned at the sound of her alias. A young man came up to her out of breathe. "Oh, Shigure-kun! H-How can I help you?"

The young man blushed. "I-I wanted to help you with your groceries. To carry them for you, I mean."

"That's kind of you to do, Shigure-kun," Hinata smiled. "But I'll be alright." She took a step towards the pathway to her home.

"Please, allow me," he reached for one of the bags. "I'm not surprised Makoto-ji-san isn't here to help." The young man scoffed. "He never seems to help you."

Hinata slightly turned from the boy so her groceries were out of reach. "I don't mind. Makoto-san doesn't need to help me."

"Hana-san, I -- " the young man stopped, his eyes frozen in fear.

Hinata looked at him confusedly, before feeling familiar chakra behind her.

"She said beat it, kid," Sasuke growled.

Shigure regained his composure and looked straight at Hinata. He took a deep breath and bowed. "Hana-san, I want to say that I like you and I hope to see you at the winter festival!" He straightened and turned his eyes to Sasuke. "Makoto-ji-san," he said through clenched teeth and bowed his head. "Good day to you."

Hinata looked between the two males, caught in a gridlock.

"I'm not going to repeat myself," Sasuke said menacingly. Shigure nodded again and stiffly turned on his heel to leave.

--

A few days later, Hinata found herself at the winter festival, admiring the fresh snow on the plum blossoms and the ice sculptures carved by the village's artisans. Beside her, Sasuke walked with a hand on the small of her back, eyes roving around for the troublesome boy.

"I don't think Shigure-kun will come around, don't you think?" Hinata giggled behind the thick sleeve of her kimono.

Sasuke grumbled. "He won't if he knows what's good for him."

Hinata grabbed a hold of his sleeve. "Come, let's enjoy the festival."

Hinata pulled him around the village, visiting artisan stalls and eating sweets to her heart's delight. Sasuke showed no interest but indulged her whims.

Hinata's teeth started to chatter as they continued with the festivities. She felt Sasuke wrap his arm around her shoulders.

"Come, maybe the weeping plum blossom tree will provide some insulation." He guided her towards the pink flowered tree covered in snow.

"Isn't it beautiful, Sasuke?" she said in awe. She gingerly touched a low hanging branch causing some snow to fall.

"Aa," he answered. "Absolutely beautiful."

Hinata turned to see him gazing intently at her. "Sasuke? Is something wrong?"

Sasuke blinked and turned his head away. He shoved his hands into his kimono sleeves.

Hinata stepped closer to him, using him as a way to shield her eyes from the passing villagers. She activated her Byakugan.

"Sasuke, I don't see anyone tracking us..." Hinata blinked away her bloodline. "I--"

Hinata's arms folded against Sasuke's chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I was going to wait a little while longer," he whispered in her ear. Hinata felt her heart pound at the warmth of breath on her ear.

"Wait for what?"

Sasuke gently pushed her away to place something in her hand. Hinata gasped, tears welling up in her eyes. His fingers came up to wipe them away.

"Marry me, Hinata."

Hinata looked up, seeing a small smile on Sasuke's face.

"Yes," she gently smiled, bringing his face closer to hers. "Yes."

[mings]

Some context...

...in relation to that last post. This is a lo-o-o-o-ong read, so feel free to skip right by if catharsis bores you.

This starts way before I joined tumblr; in fact, long before tumblr was even a thing.

Twenty years ago, we lived in a huge house backing onto the English Channel. We moved there from Scotland, which turned out to be (probably) the biggest mistake of my life. 

Within nine months of buying the place, the company I’d moved to work for nearly folded. I and most of the workforce were made redundant. That set in motion an existential battle with our mortgage insurer, which refused to pay out because I “must have known” when taking out the insurance. (I didn’t, and they eventually caved in after destroying my credit record, but that’s another story.)

Work wasn’t immediately available; none that would at least cover the bills. We got inventive, wrote a business plan, obtained finance & bought a franchise. It went pretty well for the first three years, but we had to bust a gut to make the required income. It wasn’t easy. Eventually, the franchise operator messed up relations with several key players in our insurance market. Within three months, we lost 75% of our revenue. I had to close the workshop & find part time work to make ends meet. Ultimately, we decided to close the business, sell the house and downsize to something more manageable.

What’s the relevance of this? We tried hard to keep our precarious financial state form the kids. Maybe we didn’t do as well as we thought. Our son had already become withdrawn. He’d fallen in with a group of local lads about whom we had grave misgivings. Of course, there was no discussing it. We were “over-reacting” and unreasonable. It was around that time that he decided to jack in his education. I couldn’t criticise; I’d done the same. I pulled some strings and got him a job at our local Royal Mail delivery office.

We moved to our new place. It was a stressful move. Trying to fit into a house that was literally half the size was never going to be an easy task. One afternoon, our son came home from work and soon after announced he was going out. “See you later.” Only we didn’t. He didn’t come home that night. Nor did he turn up for work the next day. Nor the day after. And nor the day after that. Within a week he was written up for unauthorised absence. We had no way of contacting him. His case was heard in the following weeks. I could offer no mitigation. He was sacked for abandonment of duty. That tag that means he’ll never work for them again. 

We still had no idea where he was. We only knew he was alive because we met a couple of his friends who couldn’t believe he’d not been in touch. Still no word. My wife was in shreds; I suspect any of you who are parents can identify with that. I was alternating between trying to prop her up and stay on top of my job, all the while under a constant barrage of barracking (Oh, we don’t mean anything by it, it’s just banter....)

About three months in I’d had enough. Sleep was a scarce resource so I rose at the crack of dawn and started on a trip, rousting one after another of the friends and acquaintances that I knew, following leads until finally I tracked him down to a sordid bedsit several towns and 40 miles away. At least he answered the door and looked sheepish. He offered no explanation or apology, and has never done so to date. He refused to come back home, but promised to keep in touch. 

We know he bounced from one sofa to another in the next few months. He spent time in some of the worst areas in the county for drug abuse. He fell into a relationship with a girl that looked promising initially and subsequently fell apart. Later, he surfaced in another town with another girl whom he subsequently married. She often spoke of his irascible temperament and moods. Ultimately the marriage was doomed; she was younger than him, found a new interest and moved out. One wonders now how much of that was her and how much she’d put up with before voting with her feet.

He’s stumbled from one financial crisis to another. Money just evaporates. It’s as though adulting is a mystery beyond his reach. I’ve lost count of the times that we’ve thrown money at him and I don’t want to even think about how much. It’s literally thousands, always a loan, yet he never, ever pays back.

He left his job. That was inevitable too; he worked for his ex-father-in-law’s company. Heaven only knows how long the writing was on the wall; it was pretty swift once she left. He drifted again. He chose to live in a squalid flat with no heating rather than move back with us. Absolutely his choice, not ours. 

We moved to Scotland. That meant all his stuff had to go into storage. Quick rewind - he moved all his stuff to ours when he gave up the house he & his ex lived in, but refused to move back home. I had to rent a storage unit to make space for all his gear & when we moved I shifted all his gear into the store, gave him the key & told him I’d paid three months up front; after that it was his to deal with. Apparently, he surrendered the store and moved all his gear into the flat...

Fast forward to a couple of months back. He’d run out of options at the flat. His flatmate was “really difficult” to live with. His ex had moved away, taking their son with her. He had nothing left to stay for and, surprise, he’d lost his job again so he couldn’t afford the rent. 

My wife convinced me we should give him one last shot, citing his fragile mental health. I agreed on the strict understanding that we are simply no longer in a position to support him. He assured us he’d be applying for work as soon as he got here. We rarely see him before midday...

We agreed the end of the first week in March. We knew he’d arrive with a ton of stuff so we had (again) to create space. That’s infinitely more difficult now we’re running a B&B, but we set to the task. Suddenly, two weeks sooner than we’d agreed, he rented a van and was on his way. No discussion, no warning. We only found out because he put something on FB. 

Finally, after trying to reach him most of the day, he phoned. Whilst we should have been relieved, instead we were treated to a barrage of abuse because all the petrol stations were shut. Of course they were. It was in a national lockdown and why would they stay open when there was no one on the roads? JFC, who embarks on a journey in sub-zero temperatures across some of the most inhospitable country in the UK without enough fuel? With a six year old child. Yes, not only did he forget to tell us about his change of plans, he forgot to tell us he was bringing his son too.

We drove south through the night for two hours to find him somewhere in the Cairngorms where he’d run out of fuel. No fuel meant no heaters at 1500 feet in deep snow. The ambient temperature was -5ºC/23ºF & with wind chill that was probably around -10ºC/14ºF. We found him & refuelled his van. No thanks, just another barrage of abuse, because he was tired. We took his son into our car & drove the two hours back in near silence. I think we knew then that it was an awful predictor of what was to come.

We’ve had row after row. He accused me of being passive-aggressive in the last. He actually ticks all the boxes for passive-aggressive behaviour. I’ve never been tagged with that before; if anything I’m too forthright, blunt even. That’s a failing to which I will admit. If by that he meant that I don’t talk about the elephant in the room, it’s only because we fear it’ll lead to another explosion.

He never saw the damage that we sustained during our fostering years. He was never there. Yet here we are, experiencing flashbacks to those traumatic incidents; the parallels are exact. We have the benefit of years of training. We recognise manipulative behaviour when we see it - we were trained by some of the nations best exponents - and we know divisive tactics implicitly.  What he doesn’t know is that he will succeed only in pushing us closer together and alienating himself even further.

There are clear and well-documented links between cannabis and mental health issues. He is allowing the drug to determine his life choices. Although I may be wrong, I think he’s cultivating skunk, which is nothing like the weed that circulated in my youth. The smell that pervades our hallway is instantly evocative of high strength Afghan resin. It’s also going to be acutely difficult to eradicate before we’re due to open.

We’ve endured 20 years of this treatment. I know that even if we have a ritual burning, it will only be a matter of time before we’re back here again. We’re old. We’re tired. And we’ve worked our socks off (and still do) to achieve what we have. Maybe somewhere along the way we missed something. But I’m at a stage where I’m so far beyond this I just want it to stop.

[consumeconstantly]

Not a Saint or a Hero

Summary: To civilians, Ladybug is a hero. In the eyes of the law, Ladybug is a vigilante at best, and a villain at worst. 

______________________________________________________

Conquering the Parisian underworld is child’s play for Ladybug and her partner, Chat Noir. The ex-boss of the Parisian underworld, code name Hawkmoth, may have been good at pushing drugs and ruining people’s lives, but he was woefully incompetent at... basically everything else. Which meant that other than Hawkmoth and his direct underlings, there really wasn’t much of a structure at all that Ladybug had to be worried about. No cohesive unit, fighting as one, just easy pickings and an even easier way to convince the drug dealers, homeless, illegal fight rings, and various other under the radar activities to band together to topple Hawkmoth’s empire. 

Ladybug, after all, had experience with overthrowing established mafiosos. She did it once in Wenzhou at her mother’s side, another time in Beijing because somebody made the mistake of trying to push her into prostitution, and twice in Italy with her grandmother, code name Befana.

“Do you really have to leave, m’lady?”

Ladybug shrugs. “I trust you and the team to keep things up and running. We had a good run, but there’s a good structure in place now and Befana wants me to go with her to another country.”

Nobody says no to Befana, not unless they’re bullet proof. Ladybug may have high quality Kevlar sewn into every outfit she wears, but even she isn’t the biggest fan of the impact of a bullet. Depending on the gun, broken ribs are a kindness.

“I know you don’t get along with Queen Bee, and almost everyone else is out of the country, but you’re not going to say goodbye to Rena or Carapace?”

“It’s not like I’m going to be gone forever. Just a few months. A year at most.”

“Promise me you’ll come back, m’lady?”

Ladybug puts a hand on her partner's shoulder. “You know I can’t make promises like that.”

Chat pauses, dull thud of the rave music filling in their silence. 

He swirls the whiskey in his glass. “Stay safe, Bug. Play it smart.”

“I always do.”

#

It comes as no surprise that Befana dumps her in the middle of one of the most crime infested cities world wide without a backwards glance. Her granddaughter is grown up now, after all. 

“Have fun, darling. Black Mask is particularly nasty, make sure to watch out for his assistant, she’s very sharp.” Befana pulls away from the nonexistent curb— nonexistent because there’s no sidewalks in the slums of Gotham, at least, not many of them in good enough conditions to have curbs or whole piece of cement to walk on— and leaves Marinette all on her lonesome with a backpack, a key to a cheap apartment.

Marinette eyes the broken bottles leading to the entryway of her new building and the boarded up windows. Across the street, there’s two women smoking and conversing in hushed tones.

“Well,” Marinette mutters underneath her breath, shifting the straps of her only worldly possessions. “It’s definitely quieter than I expected.”

“Hey, new girl,” one of the women in the group calls out to her. “What’re you in for?”

“School. This is the cheapest apartment I could find.”

The woman exchanges a glance with one of her friends. 

“You’re better off finding a more expensive apartment elsewhere. This isn’t a place for someone like you.”

An excellent line for Marinette to begin to fish for information. “What do you mean by that?”

“This is disputed territory, now. If you can’t afford to stay somewhere else, you better stay with whoever just dropped you off.”

Marinette fidgets. Gina is long gone. Grandmother or not, even though Gina is undoubtedly loyal and will never hurt her, she believes that the best way to inspire growth is through adversity. Like now. The only information she got out of Befana was that she had to figure out a way to keep Gotham in line… whatever that meant. “She’s not going to come back. I guess I’ll just have to try my luck.”

“You really got nowhere else to go?”

“No. I’m from abroad.”

“That explains the accent,” says the one holding a beer bottle. “Then listen up, girlie. If you wanna survive, there’s three rules you’ve gotta learn. One. Don’t cross the Black Mask. Two. Don’t cross Red Hood. Three. Don’t sell to children.”

“Sell to children?”

“Well, I don’t suppose you’d be doing it anyways, given the whole,” she motions to Marinette’s body with a cigarette, “but Hood goes after anyone who sells drugs to kids real bad. Worse than if you fuck him over with anything the Black Mask’s doing, anyways.”

“Red Hood doesn’t sound like that bad of a guy, then.” Maybe she’ll look into a collaboration with him.

The woman with the beer bottle laughed. “Oh honey, you’re a saint. Don’t go fostering any dreams. You just stay away, hear?”

“I hear you,” Marinette says.

But they got something wrong. 

Marinette isn’t a saint, and never has been.

#

The walls of her crappy one bedroom apartment are thin enough to hear the baby upstairs scream at ungodly hours. If it’s not the baby waking her up, her neighbors in the apartment to her right are fucking very, very loudly. The apartment below her blasts rock music at all hours, the apartment to her right is likely selling drugs, given that she sees at least fifteen different people come in and out each day, and they always have a vaguely dazed look in their eye. She hasn’t heard anything from the apartment across, but she’s sure they’ll start up some noisy activity that Marinette doesn’t particularly want to hear soon enough.

She really got pampered in Paris, didn’t she?

Marinette lived a life of relative luxury whenever she stayed with her parents, instead of Gina. While in Beijing and Chongqing with Tom and Sabine, Maman did all of the heavy lifting for her. Well, Beijing had ended rather disastrously, and they had to make a quick getaway, but at least in Chongqing, Sabine managed to get rid of the prostitution ring. 

Back in Wenzhou, Catania, and Bologna, Gina took the reins, and it always turned out to be a sink or swim sort of situation. First off was her mother’s birth place, which had an astonishingly high crime rate and definitely explained why Sabine Cheng was so adept at self defense, and once they were there, of course they had to reform the fight rings. In Catania and Bologna, Gina practically threw her at two of the lowest rank mafia groups and told her to use them to bring order to the warring mafias. During those years, Gina didn’t make a front like Sabine and Tom did, purchasing a bakery and running a business to aid their more behind the scenes work. No, with Gina, it was either war of peace, and there was nowhere in between.

Which, of course, meant that Marinette rarely got to stay in nice rooms or pursue hobbies like sewing or drawing or anything, really.

Now that she is of age, Marinette could potentially try to wrest herself out of Befana’s influence, but that’s almost a laughable thought. Befana has eyes and ears everywhere. If she wants to escape the rat race of reformation, Marinette needs to gather power. 

The best thing she can do for now is try to figure out the situation in Gotham. If it’s not particularly bad, maybe she’ll have an easy time of it, and figure out how to disappear herself. She’s not totally opposed to the whole making-criminals-act-within-the-bounds-of-morality thing, but it’s gotten pretty tiring. Not repetitive, necessarily, but after experiencing an almost normal life in Paris, Marinette does want to have the privilege of not having to worry about her life every hour. Maybe she can even start up a little boutique. 

Marinette dumps most of the contents out of her bag, only leaving her wallet, a knife, and her trademark yo-yos. 

“Maybe I can go back to Paris, eventually.” She has become very fond of the city; the first place where she took fate into her own hands, where her mother and grandmother didn’t push her to reform the underworld. The first place where she chose to change the world around her. The first place where she saw things through from start to finish. The first place she formed her own team. 

The power of change is both incredibly addicting and terrifying. She sort of gets why Befana roams the world, looking for the next place she wants to shake things up in. But Marinette can’t get addicted. This is going to be her last city, then she’s going to return to Paris and settle down. She’ll leave city beautification to the so-called vigilantes that almost every city has acquired, save Paris.

Oh wait, she supposes that Ladybug and Chat Noir were-- and Chat still is-- a type of vigilante back home. But as it stands now, it will be more correct to refer to them as heads of the Parisian underworld; they definitely don’t work on the side of the law, but she and Chat made sure that drug deals were more… regulated. That deaths and the induction of children into such a dark world were curbed. That if people really wanted to get out, they could.

All of that doesn’t matter. Not in the eyes of the law at least. Parisian citizens love the duo for helping keep crimes off the streets and for banning the particularly strong strain of drug that Gabriel called AKUMA off the market, but the Parisian police? She and Chat both have targets on their head. Their whole team does.

She eyes the apartment across from her. There’s blood on the door handle. It’s a good thing that Sabine and Tom never tried to instill those odd customs of ‘house warming’ and ‘getting to know her neighbors’ that most other people teach their children. In good neighborhoods, it’s important to have a cordial relationship with whoever’s living next door. In neighborhoods like these? It’s even more important.

But rule number one of pissing people off? 

Coming over uninvited.

Marinette doesn’t bother locking the door behind her. 

#

“New to the neighborhood?”

Apparently, it really is bizarre for her to have moved into this apartment complex. She’s come across a grand total of five people during her week here, and every single one of them stopped whatever they were doing in order to take a closer look. 

Marinette knows that this is a disputed area. She looked into the two women’s words the day she arrived. But, for a disputed area, everything is remarkably quiet. No fights, nobody on the streets, most people keep indoors, unless they’re out for a smoke, to throw out the trash, or are going to or coming back from various activities outside of the block.

What’s even more odd is that all of her neighbors seem to know each other intimately. Or at least, intimately enough to know that she doesn’t belong there.

“Yeah,” Marinette says, ready to leave this conversation behind. She doesn’t bother getting information out of the people who are in her apartment complex or on this block. To be more accurate, she tried with one of the first people she came across, but it was apparent that someone encouraged them to be tight lipped with information. 

Given the current information she has, she thinks it’s more likely that the one who gave that order is Red Hood, rather than Black Mask.

“Been here a week.” The guy lights his joint and breathes out. “Not so new anymore.”

Over the years, she’s gotten used to the smell of marijuana, though she can’t say she likes the scent. She’ll take cigarettes over weed any day.

“You could say that.”

“Don’t suppose anybody’s laid out the rules for you yet, have they?”

Maybe this will make things easier for her. Mostly, she’s just settled into her apartment over the past seven days. There's no need for her to immediately get to work, and she does enjoy comfort. Taking down criminals is hard work. She wants to come back to an apartment that doesn’t look awful and lets her relax. So what if she spent most of her money on an expensive mattress and a coffee machine? She’s an adult now. Nobody can tell her what to do. (Except for Befana.) “No, not really.”

“Tina and Audrey give you a crash course?”

“Mostly just warned me not to sell to children.”

The man barks, smoke spitting into the stale air. “Some of the best advice around. Let me tell you, Black Mask might have more manpower, but Red Hood has rage. Cross Black Mask by gypping him, he’ll send a lackey after you. Fuck with children, Red Hood himself will come for you.”

He pauses, evaluating her appearance. 

“Though you look like a child yourself. Mighty pretty too. lucky girl. Hood will protect you if you stay around these parts, but if you go south on the diagonal, you’ll be in bad territory. Plenty of prostitution rings around there.”

“Thought this was disputed territory.”

“Not really. Anywhere Hood has claimed is said to be disputed because Mask hates his guts and keeps sending goons to these areas. But anyone who’s dealing under Mask aint gonna take the risk of their lives just to branch out to these spots.”

“Sounds like Red Hood is pretty well liked around these parts, then.”

Perhaps she’ll look into working with him. From what she’s heard of the guy and what she’s found trawling the dark web, his morals seem to align with her own. A little bit more temperamental than she’d like, a little too quick to kill, rather than apprehend, but Gotham prisons seem to have jailbreaks every other week, so she can understand why it may be easier just to make every encounter a one and done.

“Liked?” Blunt finished, he flicks the stub into the dirt, crushing the embers under foot. He wipes his mouth with the scarf around his neck. “Like isn't the question in Gotham, Frenchie.”

Marinette inwardly cringes. She’s tried to minimize her accent because it makes natives distrust her, or think they can take her for a loop. Most people she’s come across accept her as one of their own, but apparently she hasn’t been doing as well as she thought she was. Maybe this is why people seemed a little more reluctant with any information.

“When it comes down to it, liking means nothing. It’s who you trust to watch your back.” He fumbles in his pockets, pulling out another blunt. Marinette notices that his fingers are fairly heavily bandaged and that the man is shaking slightly. Medicinal marijuana, maybe. “Wouldn’t trust that Mask farther than I can throw him. And he used to be a wrestler, so he’s a fat bastard. At least you can trust Hood not to cross you as long as you don’t cross him first.”

Lighting the tip, his eyes sharpen. “You seem like the trustworthy sort. Active, too. I’ll leave you with one more piece of advice. If you ever run into Hood? Don’t mention two things: the Joker, and Batman.”

“I doubt I’ll ever run into him,” Marinette lies. 

The man laughs. “I’m a Gotham native, Frenchie. I can tell what kind of person you are. You’ll be meeting him soon, I know. Hood needs someone to watch his back, and you? You need someone to keep your head above water.”

He flicks the ash off the blunt and turns his back on her, and Marinette can’t tell whether he’s showing her respect or belittling her.

#

 Two weeks into her stay in Gotham and Marinette has finally collected enough information about her surroundings to feel confident about going out as Ladybug.

Guns are infinitely more available here in America than they were back in France, which means she needed more than one costume, and an upgrade to her current one. High quality kevlar is good and all, but it’s heavy, and not everyone in Gotham is high off their minds using AKUMA. Replacing kevlar with polythene, now that it’s available to her, is only a natural decision. She has to be more careful here in Gotham. Not only does she have no support network, she’s also highly inexperienced with the terrain. She’s at a disadvantage here.

With a combo polythene and kevlar bodysuit, a crop top with her signature ladybug embroidery on the backside, an all black domino mask, and a utility belt with two yo-yos , knife, and emergency medical supplies, she’s as ready as she ever will be to witness the nightlife first hand.

And just like in Paris, Wenzhou, Beijing, Chongqing, Catania and Bologna, she doesn’t have to go far to find the trouble.

Befana has told her multiple times that Marinette is like a lucky charm for problems. Judging by the amount of time she’s gotten herself into sticky situations unintentionally, she’s inclined to agree, though she’d call herself more of an unlucky charm.

She doesn’t bother speaking, instead hurling one yo-yo at the guy who’s trying to tie up a girl half her age and the other yo-yo at the wheels of his car, to make sure he can’t make a quick getaway.

Ladybug may not use guns, but she never said that her weaponry wasn’t tricked out; yo-yo knocks the guy up the head, sending him down for the count, and yo-yo two slashes through the rubber tire. The man waiting in the car rolls down the window to shoot. Ladybug rolls her eyes. Dumb and dumber. She’s not sure whether he’s trying to preserve his windows or doesn’t realize that rolling down his window leaves him open for her own attacks.

Reeling back in yo-yo one. She hurtles it through the window, presses a button, then ducks. The head of the yo-yo detached and shocks the driver.

“Need help getting home?” Ladybug asks the girl who’s currently edging away from her. 

“Who are you? Why did you help me?”

Ladybug shrugs. She’s never been particularly good at explaining herself; Chat took care of most of the conversions within Hawkmoths retinue. She’s good at making the occasionally public statement and making sure people she’s close to don’t stray, but strangers? Most people back in Paris just trusted her blindly, and she never had to think about how to present her reasoning.

She takes two sets of zip ties out of her pack, then restrains her first victim. After she slaps a patch on the tire-- if she is going to take this girl home, she certainly doesn’t want to walk her back in this neighborhood, and judging by the size of the van, there are probably a few people in the back she’ll need to free as well. Ladybug moves on to tie up the guy in the car, back towards the girl. “If you don’t want my help, that’s fine too.”

As soon as she turns, there’s a sharp intake of breath. “You’re with Hood, then.”

Not yet. “M not, actually. Never met the guy. What makes you say that?”

A bout of nervous, high pitched laughter. “The red, maybe. Or, I don’t know, the fact that he’s here and not knocking you out?”

Ladybug whirls, trying to see where the infamous vigilante is. True to the girls word, he is just a little ways down the alleyway they’re currently in, looking, for all intents and purposes, not about to kill her. How pleasant. Better than she was expecting; his temper precedes him, and she was expecting to have to fight with the guy before even dreaming about having a civil discussion with him.

He doesn’t have his hands on his guns, which she takes as a good sign. Taking a good look at him she’s almost surprised that he’s calming himself the Red Hood instead of the Red Helmet, but she supposes the former sounds better.

“Let me finish tying that one up,” Ladybug says.

Red Hood grunts in response.

“So you are working together,” the girl concludes.

Ladybug shrugs again, tapping another button to reattach the head of her yo-yo and grabbing the keys and phone from the driver’s pocket. She pops the back of the van. There are three girls tied up in the back. 

Her knife makes quick work of the bonds that restrain them. The girls take the duct tape off their mouths themselves; she feels a deep disgust of the men that are currently knocked unconscious. Not only are they traffickers, but they’re new traffickers. Inexperienced. Duct tape isn’t used most times because it damages the goods. Either that, or they’re organ dealers, because people don’t need the bodies to look pretty when they just want the innards. Judging by the fact that all of the people in the back are girls, she’ll put money on the first one.

“You going to let me drive these girls back before we have our talk?”

“Fine,” Red Hood bites out, moving to sit shotgun. “You move one finger out of line, and I’ll shoot.”

Ladybug tosses the unconscious body out of the driver’s seat.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

[musette22]

is it weird that I can't even look at their pics right now (seb and chris) because I can't help but feel icky and disappointed? the recent evens reminded me that they are truly two rich and privileged white men who are so dumb just cos they wanna get some. I'm out. Maybe in a year or so I'll check what their projects are. maybe never. I just can't right now. what a shame.

Okay guys, I’ve been debating over whether or not to “open my big mouth” about this (as one anon so sweetly put it once), but I’ve been getting quite a lot of messages like this one and I think I do want to share a few thoughts with you all. I’m going to put them under the cut because this is a long one, and I don’t want to clog up everyone’s dash ❤️

First of all, let me just make it clear that I am fully aware of the severity of this pandemic, especially in some places, including in the US, and that I am in no way trying to make light of any of it or undermine how serious this situation is for a lot of people around the globe right now, many of you included. It’s a terrible situation, and it’s far from over. I’m also not aiming to be an apologist for the bad decisions of privileged white males just because I have a crush on them, because that idea is abhorrent to me, but I’m aware some of you might still feel like I am, and that’s your right.

Having said all that, I am getting a bit worried about all the posts I’ve seen about how people are angry and disillusioned with Sebastian and Chris’s behaviour. I’m not trying to invalidate your disappointment, because it’s totally fair to wish they’d made different decisions, more akin to the decisions you yourself presumably would have made. And if that disappointment goes deep enough then it is absolutely fair if you want to unstan them and stop following or supporting them (that does not extend to sending them hate though, that is not in any way acceptable, no matter how disappointed we are).

But, as anon rightfully points out, the fact of the matter is that they are privileged white male celebrities. This is not news. They (especially Chris) have been successful celebrities for a long, long time, and with celebrity come certain privileges. They can afford massive houses in LA and big apartments in expensive areas in New York City, for instance. They get to go to cool parties, they get free stuff, everyone kisses their ass. They get paid exorbitant amounts of money (Chris much more so than Seb of course) that bear no direct relation to their work and responsibilities anymore, at this point.

And that’s not to say they don’t work hard, they do - but so do most of us, and we’re not getting paid nearly as much as them. It’s inherently unfair, but that’s what celebrity culture (and capitalism) are. Now, I’m not saying everyone has to blindly accept the status quo and just ignore how unfair it all is – far from it. In some ways, I wish more people would denounce celebrity culture, because it is in some senses terribly toxic and unfair. But listen, if you want to stan celebrities because it brings you some joy in this fucked up world, then I think that’s also perfectly understandable. That’s what I’m doing too. And to stan celebs (at least of the calibre of Chris and Seb) we need them to be famous, otherwise we wouldn’t even know them and we would get no content to consume. They are famous because they are in Hollywood movies, and they are in Hollywood movies because they play the Hollywood game - to some extent, at least. Playing the Hollywood game means everything from flying all over the world for movie premieres and leaving a huge carbon footprint, to going to glitzy parties where there a are lots or questionable people present, to “lying” in interviews because of contractual obligations - and sometimes it also means playing along with fake PR rumours or relationships, even if it’s bad PR.

I know people are worried about Chris, and especially Seb, being “bought” by Hollywood and its money and temptations, and losing his integrity and that he won’t be that sweet, soft-spoken, well-read boy who loves his mom anymore. I personally believe that so far, both Seb and Chris have managed to maintain an impressive level of integrity throughout it all, and I’m still hopeful that that isn’t going to change (much).

But it’s not realistic to have the same expectations for them you would have for your loved ones for instance, because they’re not. We have zero relationship to them as people, and they owe us nothing. They give us movies and pictures of their pretty faces, and occasionally good advice or lovely hugs at comic cons, but that’s all we’re gonna get from them. They are not our friends or potential partners. They’re human of course, and in that sense just like you and me, meaning they have feelings and thoughts and a right to privacy and they make mistakes, but their circumstances are wildly different from most of ours. They’re surrounded by the Hollywood circus. They are PART of the Hollywood circus, because they’re actors and if you want to be a successful movie actor you have to play the game to some extent. Sebastian cannot be expected to be home all the time and decline going to parties because he prefers staying in with a good book even if he did prefer that, because that way he’d never be noticed by the people who matter, and who could get him where he wants to be. He said it himself, he’s an ambitious guy. He wants bigger roles, bigger challenges. And he’s not going to get them if he doesn’t do some annoying, dumb shit sometimes, unfortunately.

In my view, that doesn’t make him a bad person who doesn’t care about anyone but himself, but it does make him a privileged human. Being a privileged human also entails some responsibilities, though – if you don’t want to become corrupt, you have to make sure you also use your privilege for good. And in my opinion, both Sebastian and Chris do that. They use their voice and their money to help people less fortunate than them. That’s part of that integrity I was talking about. Some of you may disagree, and that’s fine, but this is how I view it.

As for everyone who is upset with them for traveling to Europe during a pandemic and not wearing a mask in public: I completely understand your frustration, and I am frustrated too. This is literally a deadly virus and it has to be taken very seriously, and unfortunately, they’re not taking it very seriously right now, and that kind of sucks. But the truth is, neither of them are breaking any rules and neither of them is being more callous than the majority of people in the countries they’ve been seen in are. The situation in most of Europe is stabilising (not everywhere, and the UK isn’t doing all that great to be fair), and governments are reopening their countries and facilities. Wearing a mask in the street is not mandatory in either Spain or the UK, except for in specific situations such as public transport or if you’re in certain professions. The rules here are different from those in New York etc. because they have been adapted to how each country is faring. 

I live in the Netherlands, and no one here is wearing a mask in the street, not even in the hospital or at the doctor’s, and yet the situation continues to stabilise (I hope to god it stays that way, but that of course remains to be seen). From my friends in Spain and the UK I have heard the situation is much the same. Yes, Sebastian is acting differently from how he did in New York, but he’s in different circumstances too, so that makes sense. Moreover, both Chris and Seb will have been tested before traveling, because they’re privileged celebrities who have access to testing even where lots of normal folks unfortunately don’t.

Now, I’m not saying both guys shouldn’t just have stayed put and not left the country (especially a country where the virus is still rampant), because they should have, and they’re both dumbasses for not doing so. I am definitely disappointed that they’re not being smarter and more considerate about this, but I recognise that my disappointment in part stems from the fact that I put them on a pedestal that I shouldn’t have put them on in the first place. And I know a lot of you are mad at them for flying to Europe “just to get some”, but that is disregarding the fact that both Sebastian’s holiday and Chris’s trip to London seem to be at least partially for PR reasons, most likely pushed and arranged by their agency. The exact extent of how much of it is PR is still a little unclear to me at the moment, but I think it’s fair to assert at this point that they did not just fly to Europe to “get some.”

I know this is ridiculously long, but I have been thinking about all of this a lot these past few days and wanted to get those thoughts out! I hope most of you can understand where I’m coming from here. Love you guys ❤️