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taxevasiontactics · 1 year ago

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The Godmother's Godchild [1] - Hello, World

Synopsis: After you receive news that Aunt Marian has passed away following the worst shift in your life, you decide that you are too overworked, too stressed, and too tired to deal with grief while handling your job. You escape to the cottage that she left for you to try and recuperate. The town it's in is so small you nearly miss it on the map - the perfect place, so long as you don't get into any trouble.

Warning: Minor Character Death (mention)

You have to admit. Even from the vantage point of her kitschy kitchen tile floor, Aunt Marian had impeccable taste in décor.

You remember walking into a fancy lawyer’s office in a haze; barely awake, fresh out of a double shift at the hospital, still reeling from the fact that even the kindest and most magical people (godmother, both ways) can pass away from old age. Aunt Marian wasn’t stingy about her secrets in life. Told you who she was, what she did with the funny bottles and sparkles, and proudly mentored you into university. Medical Alchemy Practitioner. A doctor.

It feels like just yesterday she was checking in on you after an absolute knockout rush. Ragging on at your work, like always, because she just can’t leave well enough alone when there’s room for improvement – and there is always room for improvement.

You call that “maroon”? Come on, now. I have another trick for you, roll up your sleeves and start the boiler again.

Don’t even start, she knows that’s as red as these ingredients will let you get. You don’t have the luxury she gets with her garden.

And that’s where the trick comes in. Someday, you’ll have to figure this out on your own without good ingredients or good odds. Quit being a donkey and let’s get to work.

It was sudden – poof, into thin air, and she was gone. She’d left an old house perched on some coastal cliff in the middle of nowhere and all its contents to you in her will. “Do with it what you want”, the lawyer rattled off from the magically and legally binding paper. “Sell it, live in it, use it how you please. It’s yours, little branch. Do what makes you happy.”

Even as you grieved, the rest of your life kept weighing on your back. The house was on your mind every time you came home exhausted. You wanted out. You wanted a break. Most of all, you wanted to make sure that the place was something Aunt Marian would’ve been proud of before you started looking for buyers. You went away, leaving an uncertain “return to work” date on HR’s desk.

“Eugh…”

So, here you are, sifting through the contents of Aunt Marian’s unemptied fridge and cursing to yourself that you didn’t think to put a fume mask on. You again wish you talked with her more often, maybe then you wouldn’t have to dig so much weird stuff out from the dark recesses. Like goblin cheese, wedged between an old pack of pepperoni slices and a perfectly organized shelf of reagents. Who the hell buys goblin cheese these days? ---

It takes a while to haul all the spoiled food out, but you’ve got it done and stuffed into a nearly overfilled bin. The town has a garbage collection service; thank goodness for that, you don’t think you could’ve fit all of that in your truck bed without something noxious bursting. You still feel bad for the stretched, plastic bin.

“Thank you for carrying my Aunt’s incredibly stinky and overdue burden,” you tell it with a pat on its lid. “You’re a very good trash bin.”

“Miao,” says the trash bin in return.

“Yes, miao to you too.”

You pause only when you realize that you can’t talk to inanimate objects. Even if you did suddenly develop the ability – which is very difficult, Aunt Marian told you once, so apologizing to things you knock over is like speaking in reverse Spanish to someone from the Arctic - you’re fairly certain that a trash bin would not meow.

You investigate the bin further to find a scrappy tabby rubbing its face against the angular sides. No collar. Small chip out of the ear. Funny bend in its tail.

“Poor thing, you must be a stray…”

“Miao.”

You kneel, reach out, and tuck a knuckle under its chin. It seems to appreciate the act, leaning into your finger as you rub its rough jaw from below. You know you should probably be getting back to work on cleaning out the kitchen, considering the sun is starting to get low and you have yet to cook dinner for yourself, but a small break with a cute thing like this is no foul. You came out here to try and get on with your grief (as far as you can anyways) with a break from constant work. This is de-stressing. Yes, you are feeling so very relaxed right now.

The cat takes this moment to jump onto your back from the perfect vantage point, rip open a trash bag from the overflowing bin, and make off with some unknown prize of infinite spoilage. You watch it go, slack jawed, in disbelief that you were suckered by a cat of all things.

“Wha- hey!”

Still, you really can’t let the cat eat an unknown, probably spoiled object in good conscience. You run after it with a graceful takeoff, like a flipper-less duck off of a maple syrup lake that bounces twice off its surface before achieving lift, in quickly fleeting hopes of wrenching the expired substance away.

The chase makes you thankful for every marathon day you ever worked. Your quarry drags you through bushes, runs circles off the road, and leads you so far away that you don’t even know where the cottage is at this point; but you keep chasing. You are a human. You are an endurance predator. You will outlast this cat. You will get this cat! You will get the smelly thing out of its mouth! You will watch it run right back onto the road in front of a speeding vespa, stopping stock still in front of its tires!

You are a human with (what you like to think is) a healthy amount of self-preservation, but you also have an entire degree in the art of ‘saving things’. Your eyes bulge out of your head as you run into the road too, desperately waving at the driver to try and get him to stop. You can see his entire body jerk back, face as white as a sheet, and heels digging into the ground when you throw yourself towards the animal.

“Wait- WAIT! HOLD ON! CAT! CAT ON THE ROAD! STOP!”

“YEAOUGH-!”

Brakes squeal. Dust flies. Your stomach hits and grinds against dirt when you land and snatch the cat by its scruff. You feel the front tire bump against your side. When it doesn’t roll over you and squash ribs four through six from lateral to lateral, you risk taking a sigh of relief as you get up. The driver sees what you dove for as you stand. In an instant, the color returns to his face with a tint of red. His foot jerkily flicks his bike rest into place as he yanks his helmet off.

“Hey, hey! What’s the big idea, eh?! You crazy?!” His voice is strained, shouting, and rolling his R’s the more worked up he gets. He rounds the two-wheeled motor to get right in your face – and, boy, what a presence he is. “You tryna get the both of us killed?!”

His volume is intimidating enough by virtue of volume alone, but that isn’t what catches you. What really catches you is that he’s big. Not big in the sense that he looms over you, you mostly see eye to eye. No, the man is wide, two tree trunks for legs solidly supporting a rounded stomach, leading up to a broad chest and arms to match. The guy looks like he could huck the idling vehicle without breaking a sweat – and with modest accuracy, too. He’s radiating heat while his hands flicker back and forth, chewing you out for your ill-advised attempt at meeting God. His round face is scrunched up and getting more frustrated by the minute. The combover’s doing a poor job of hiding his temper, vein starting to pop on his forehead. You note that his nose is slightly crooked above a slightly bushy mustache when he leans in, like it healed incorrectly.

“Are you listening?!”

You snap back into focus, analysis cut short. Shouting is one thing, him waving his hand in your face is another. You used to hate it when people did that. It got you riled up once upon a time, ready to yell back. Instead, you hold up the creature that started it all as an explanation, dripping plastic bag full of goop still hanging from its mouth.

“I was cleaning, found this cat by the bin, and it tried to run off with” -you pull the packaging from its mouth to emphasize the grossness. It rips slightly, treating you both to the sight and smell of expired pickled egg- “something that it probably shouldn’t eat. It might have made it sick.”

His face twists from anger to disgust and disappointment. Wait, is that a white tank top over a black shirt? What? That’s a terrible choice. “That doesn’t mean you have to jump in front of a bike for it.”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting it to run into the road. I was focused on chasing it, not minding someone speeding.”

“There isn’t even any signage posted, fast is the only speed limit-”

“Wait, better one for you, actually. Why didn’t you look out for people crossing the long, straight road?”

“Why didn’t you look out for someone coming down the- look, I don’t have time for this!” He throws his hands into the air, yanking the helmet onto his head again. “I’m gonna be late. Have fun with your cat, or whatever it is you were doing. Don’t jump in front of things for stupid reasons!”

With that, he jumps back on his vespa with a murmured line or two in a language you don’t understand (but have a fairly good idea on the meaning) before speeding off again. You scowl after him. The only thing you can think to do is stick your tongue out after his retreating figure.

“What a shame. I don’t even have his name to insult,” you tell the cat. It says nothing in return. You set it back on the ground and make a very disapproving shake of the head at it. “Very clever, cat. Don’t dig in the trash anymore, alright? I’m not going to chase after you next time. It’s your own fault if you eat something gross and get sick.”

“Miao.” It is entirely unflummoxed to be manhandled and divested of its dinner.

“…Alright. Good talk.”

“Miao.”

It trots off up the road, tail curled up high above itself. You assume it’s going home and follow suit, turning the other way with a running list on how to protect your trash from future would-be thieves.

---

You realize that you never had time to get anything to cook by the time you finish cleaning the kitchen. The sun is low, meaning the town’s grocer is probably closed by now. You are out of luck, out of time, and left with a growling stomach empty from a day of physical labor. It’s left you with a craving for a box of cheap pizza and cheaper beer to wash it down from years of helping friends move in college. You get up, suddenly, the thought sticking in your head hopefully.

Even somewhere like this nowheresville has to have a pizza delivery place somewhere. Capitalism can’t fail you on this front.

Your efforts are rewarded after a quick location search. No Pizza Hut, no Dominos, but a place called Peppino’s Pizza (standard American-Italian branding name and slogan “The best-a pizza in-a town-a!”, at least the mascot character is cute) blessedly delivers this late into the night. No online ordering form, but one measly phone call is a concession you can make for hot n’ ready, carb-and-fat goodness.

The call is pleasant enough, too. A kind voice by the name of “Gustavo” (they’re really putting emphasis on Italian here) takes your order, promising a delivery time of thirty minutes or less – or it’s free! You gather up the paper payment, making sure to include the tip. You’ve done your time in graveyard jobs, it’s only right to pay it forward to the next generation.

As promised, within thirty minutes, you get a knock at the front door.

“Hi, thanks for-“

“Delivery from Peppino’s-“

You come face to face with the exact same guy from earlier, still wearing the stupid t-shirt-tank-top getup. In a moment of brilliant association, you realize you probably should have put two and two together earlier. Vespa, accent, “I’m late”, the faint smell of pizza as he took off.

He suddenly looks very uncomfortable on the other side of the doorway with one shoe digging into the ground. You can only assume he’s doing a very strenuous mental routine remembering your earlier interaction.

“So that means you’re, ah…” He clears his throat, finding the doorframe very inviting to stare at. “You’re the one who took over Mama Marian’s place. Are you also a uh… miracle worker?”

You tilt your head. “I wouldn’t call it working miracles. I don’t think I’m even allowed to practice medicine here. I’m not taking over either, I’m just here for a little while.”

“A-ha, so it is, so it is…”

You both continue to stand there awkwardly for a good few seconds. A cricket chirps somewhere in the distance. The man clears his throat again, stiffly holding out your order.

“Thanks.” You take it, exchanging the goods for a wad of bills. “Plus tip. Look, about earlier-“

“It’s fine! It’s very fine,” he says, clearly not fine and itching to get off of your doorstep thanks to the mortification of trying to pretend it never happened at all. “We get off on the wrong foot, we leave it at that. I’m very sorry for yelling at you. Very sorry.”

You feel whiplash comparing the current situation with the last. What happened between then and now? He was spitting mad earlier, now he’s acting like you’ll bite his head off! Aunt Marian can’t have built that bad of a reputation here. You inwardly groan, set the pizza aside, and follow the step he takes in retreat.

“Agreed.” You hold out your hand. He flinches back. “We can make it up by starting from the top.”

“The top?”

“Introductions.”

You start. Your name and title, even if he’d already figured out the latter. He takes you up on the fresh start, shaking hands with a sweaty palm.

“Peppino.”

Oh, so he’s the owner of the pizza place.

“Peppino Spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti.” Your constrained laugh must be showing if he’s already frowning. “Your last name is Spaghetti.”

“Yes, my last name is Spaghetti, ha ha ha. Laugh it up.”

“Wait.” You turn back towards the box, pointing to the cutesy, cherubic mascot printed in red. You don’t know if it’s the delirium that comes with hunger, but the hilarity is multiplied tenfold knowing that this isn’t some half-assed attempt at ‘authenticity’. “That means that’s you on the pizza box? Peppino Spaghetti, that’s you!”

He turns away, olive branch deftly dropped onto the ground. “Ok, I’m wasting my time here. Good night!”

“Wait! I’m sorry!” You try to control the sniggering, to little avail. It’s already loose. “Really!”

Peppino doesn’t listen, muttering to himself again (something something, culo?) as he jams his helmet back on and speeds back into the night. By the time you muster something better to say than ‘sorry’, he’s already a small, halogen-yellow dot on the road.

You sigh. Oh well. You head back inside, intent on enjoying your dinner while it’s still hot. If you wanted to piss him off, then you did a fine job of it. You could always try apologizing later. You have a feeling it won’t be the last time you see him, anyways.

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so uh. hey. first time actually writing and posting fanfic anywhere. fair warning, i do intend for this to be kind of a slow burn. it's fun to write for a character that has little to no canonical personality because i get to do mostly anything i want, dohoho. also a challenge to see how long i can go without explicitly needing to describe the reader in any capacity. enjoy, either way.

#peppino spaghetti x reader #peppino x reader #pizza tower x reader #the godmother's godchild #not sure what else to tag?#tax writeoff (fic)#HAHAHAHAH that's a good one

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sincelastsession · 5 months ago

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I'm getting really upset about being in freeze mode and feeling like agoraphobia anxiety when I attempt to even leave my apartment.

I used to be able to go several places.

Now I feel overwhelmed even in the smallest store.

Like I feel like I'm gonna faint or throw up trying to get myself to go.

The last two times I have gone which was a while back I got creeped on but even before that stores were hard.

I get completely overwhelmed even if I have music playing. It's jarring and scary and there too many people and colors and I always have to look at everything and I never feel at ease or safe in the grocery store.

Like Aldi SHOULD be the best store for someone like me to get groceries in but it's just as bad as bigger flashier stores.

I used to have social anxiety but I could really give a fuck less about the grocery store NPCS now except the creepy men. Literally almost every time no fail a creepy man has come up to me while I have headphones in and either sexually harassed me or just straight up is rude or weird at me.

Dad thinks I'm paranoid abt it. Dad has never been harassed by men in public places. He is not there with me when I go places and he doesn't experience it.

Shopping with mom is chaos.

Travis helps when he can.

But no one enjoys shopping with me because despite me trying to turn it into an adventure it's not one for them as I gotta shop in a certain way where I gotta look at every row so I don't forget.

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Today I was able to autopilot to the big Asian markets and it was 3x as expensive as it used to because the cost of living definitely went up again.

I am so goddamn stressed.

I am so goddamn mad.

I didn't get everything I needed.

I can't fucking function like I used to and I'm mad about it and there's not a goddamn thing I can do but stay in hypervigiliant frozen mode.

Because guess what.

I'm not getting to move.

That was BULLSHIT

Even though my doctor is very worried about me.

A grippy sock vacation ain't gonna help shit.

I can't relax. If I don't smoke for pain then I can't do ANYTHING

Grocery shopping has me in bed from one store.

I needed to go 4 places.

I don't have people bandwidth at all.

I can't deal with loud noises at random.

I'm completely overstimulated and hypervigiliant and allllll my other problems are set off.

I know what would fix it all but there's no way to do it.

I'm about to literally ask someone to start taking pictures and manage a fucking onlyfans for me but I REALLY don't want to resort to that. I don't understand how others do it confidently and just sell themselves and it likely wouldn't be good for my cptsd traumas either

How the hell does dad expect me to switch to a phone plan and try to adjust a budget that can't budge

This is fucked.

I also really don't feel like I was advocated for enough or understood and I'm still mad that people keep making assumptions about me.

Why the fuck is it that the shittiest people get away with thier bullshit and me who tries so hard to do good because I want to and I'm not a psychopath gets like the shit end of everything

It really does bother me that people don't take the time to know me.

There was no reset. I'm still getting treated like shit.

There's not going to be a place to move.

I am probably going to lose my temper and get evicted though because I'm so fucking sick of my goddamn rude neighbors.

I can't calm down.

I have been trying to relax and have fun and do things but I can't fucking go outside without a serious panic attack now. WHYYYYY

I'm so angry. You have NO IDEA what the chronic pain I deal with feels like. People fucking judge me because I don't use a mobility device they can't see the pain issue.

They don't fucking care.

I don't even think my partner gives a shit about me.

I'm so sick of people.

I'm fucking sick of crying and asking for help.

I'm so sick of being sick.

I'm so tired of people saying they care and not showing up.

Fuck them.

I understand them. I really do. And I help the best I can.

But people don't even want to be around me and I'm not doing anything wrong.

I didn't mind that you picked my dad to go back first but I don't like the fact that he decided he was going to keep what he told you a secret from me that's not cool when it has to do with my fucking treatment

So now I'm just sitting around trying to figure out what the hell my father told you because he's done this shit before while I was in the ER and I got treated like shit because he went and took the Doctor out in the hallway and told them a bunch of shit that was not true and he's done that multiple times with other therapists privately so I would not like him to see you separately from me ever again in Session please.

I thought it would be okay and I fucked up I should have just chosen both of us to go back at the same time and now I don't know what's going on and he's being weird and secretive

And his presence in that room was completely fake and I was so fucking pissed off because you didn't notice that as far as I was aware

And I'm not mad at you I'm just mad at the fact that he pulled bullshit on you and I just sat there quietly and tried to observe the best I could and then you made the assumption that I checked out and I just had a thought in my head that needed to come out or I was going to end up interrupting and making it worse and

Then after that is probably where I checked out because I was so pissed off about the assumption and it felt like I was having things that I already understand explained to me and it felt like I was running out of time to discuss things that I did need to talk to him about that were important to me in a safe space and then you told me to go talk to him outside and that Did not go well

He yelled at me in the parking lot

Completely took his little bullshit mask off and treated me like shit and he'll deny it next time

Yes I would love to be financially away from everybody and making my own money and able to work but right now I definitely fucking cannot

I don't even know how to do under the table sit without feeling horribly guilty or fucking it up and be my SSI taken away

How am I supposed to play for a fucking phone plan if I can't even pay for Normal healthy Groceries and I couldn't even get all of my Normal healthy Groceries today and I Try to budget so hard and I'm so Bad at math and I've NeVER had a diagnosis of math dyslexia but I can't pass AGED because of that so I can't fucking Go get a degree and anything that might make me be able to make some damn good Money

And then everybody is like well why don't you sell your art but I can't fucking sell my art if I'm not fucking interested in doing it because I'm too stressed out and I have no muse

They just think I can turn things out like a magician or some shit

I don't know what I want to do or what I can do

I think it's pretty fucking unreasonable to expect me to be financially independent so quickly when I have about a million other things I need to work on that doesn't have to do with my parents

Then yes they are big fat triggers and not in the pop culture sense in the clinical sense

I have tons of clinical PTSD triggers and some of them I don't even know what they are but cause I will just be sitting around and all of the sudden I will be having APTSD episode and it sucks

And then I have autistic meltdowns which also suck

And then I have anxiety and panic attacks going on

And then my fucking OCD is driving me insane and I keep repeating myself to the point where I can't remember what's going on presently and I just I'm stuck in this loop of trauma in my brain

And my ADHD is pretty much making all of this worse and I don't know what to do about that

My executive dysfunction is completely out of control. I can do basic things and sometimes force myself to leave the house but I have to have someone with me or on the phone with me to go places and I don't like that I don't like that I'm getting overwhelmed over the dumbest shit

My distress tolerance is broken right now

Also I really need to get laid and I don't know what to do about that and I'm not a one night stand person and my life feels like it's in fucking shambles and I feel like you know maybe some intimacy in an orgasm might fucking fix some of it but I can't even socialize normally enough to get someone to interested in me and I don't even know what I'm doing

Every fucking relationship I've ever had has been some awful fucking man who has used me and treated like shit and cheated on me and almost put me risk for diseases and shit like that

And then the other man that had been intimate with me it was not consensual it was fucking rape it was fucking assault and I can't do anything about that either because I can't prove any of it

And everybody I'm interested in fucking wants a kid and I can't give them kids

And it really sucks to see every person that you've had a crush on or have been in love with meet the love of their life and have kids and have a big happy little family and post all their shit online meanwhile I'm over hereFucking failing at everything

And I'm so tired of people asking me how I'm doing how am I doing I'm rotting in my bed half the time. And the other half of the time I'm just trying to keep it together.

I used to not be like this I don't know what triggered me to be like this I don't know what it was I just wanted to stop.

I mean my whole life has just been nothing but like passive neglectful parenting but also the helicopter parent parenting and that fucked me up and then you know getting molested and being part of pedophilia shit when I was 2 years old really didn't help anything about my development and then my parents just didn't fucking know what they were doing at all and really screwed me up and they didn't care that they screwed me up and oh why is our child doing these major red flags let's just stick her in therapy and tell everybody that she just has an attitude problem and she's a difficult child that'll fix her let's just stick her in therapy and put her on medicine at 12 years old and put her on All these meds till she finally loses her shit because one of them is causing her to lose her shit and then let's send her to a psychfacility that ruins her brain with medications that she was not supposed to get and then let's not help her Sue the psychfacility that really fucked up and broke so many hippa laws.

I don't know what to do anymore

I don't know how to get people to understand me in any way

I feel like I got dropped in another country where no one speaks my language

Everybody is like oh you should join the butt club oh you should just go socialize with people and I don't know how and I don't know how to act and everybody seems to not want to be around me and it's embarrassing

I mean it's not like I didn't hear the people at the metal show talk about how fucking weird I was within earshot and I just ignored it and went on with talking to people that were nice and then I came home and then I cried

Because I'm almost fucking 40 years old I'm almost there and people are still bullies I'm still getting bullied

I don't know the sweet spot that I'm supposed to be in I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do I don't know how to be assertive because my assertive sounds like me being a bitch and then me being nice sounds fake to people and then me being mean is like totally too scary for people and I don't know what to do I don't even know how to dress myself in cute outfits that actually look good but I can do that for other people

I can't get my shit done but I can help other people get their shit done I don't know why my brain needs some sort of loophole but it does

And when I was on medicine for ATHD it wasn't exactly the best time but I was able to function way better than this

I miss being a teenager where I didn't care about how stressful going to a store was or what sort of dumb shit I was getting into like how do I kill the part of my brain that grew up and made me scared of everything

I should not be this stressed out and this worried about my life when I have a heart condition as far as I'm aware that could kill me at any point in time just because it didn't beat correctly

I don't understand why I can't be beautiful and free like my other friends and do sex work or take pretty pictures and not worry about what people think

I wish I could just start over if I can't go Zack and I don't know how to move forward anymore I just feel stuck in this present moment that this doesn't go anywhere

And I can try religious practice but that's not even fulfilling to me anymore right now

And I thought about fostering a dog but then I remembered that I'm in a lot of pain and I was disassociating from that and there's no way that I'll be able to walk by the end of the week if I go and bring a dog home to socialize it and distract myself from everything

I've been really upset because I would love to go to New Orleans to all these events that all my friends go to and be a part of a friend group who fucking cares about me and I can't

I can't see very well to drive at night and I miss out on so much stuff and I cannot afford to Uber there

And I'm sure that Justin would just love for me to come running back because he would take me places and he would take care of me and he would take control but I don't want another fucking man controlling me

And the way I speak is not to mean that I'm trying to be controlling I don't think like that

And I wish people would ask me how I'm feeling and how I'm doing and quit making assumptions about it

I'm not talking about strangers I'm talking about people who know better

And no one owes me anything no 1 has to do anything but it would be really nice if my family would actually learn about what I'm going through

Instead of giving them excuses to tell me to fuck off even more

I feel so isolated and alone and I didn't do it to myself

And I don't have any motivation to do anything and I'm not even de press that's the kicker I don't feel depressed I'm just angry and sad

I miss my old psychiatrist

I miss my dead friends

I miss my grandparents

I miss the moment to my life where I felt free

I miss being loved

And why is it that my sister gets treated so much better than me but also everybody neglects her and when I try to help her she acts like a bitch and I basically raised her ass because my parents didn't teach her a lot I had to and they get mad at me about this but it's their own fucking fault they didn't have any place adopting another child when I was 15 and I needed them most

I fucking lied to the social worker who told me it was all on me whether or not they got a baby

Because they went and took all of the hoarding mess out of the house and put it in a storage unit or something like that and hit it from the social worker

And then they put it all back in the house and they let the dogs piss and shit all over the carpet and I had my cat who never did any of that and then we got more cats and nobody took care of the litter boxes except for me and my dad sometimes

And then as I got older after my mom and sister moved out everything got worse because there's still stuff from my mom after they got divorced in the house and my dad is just letting my sister have it and I can't even get to my stuff and the stuff that my sister has gotten to that's mine she has stolen and I haven't been able to bring anything into this apartment from that house because it smells like pure cat piss ammonia because my dad never got the carpet or the house treated when he could have when he could have afforded it he sat around and acted like a depressed fucking asshole and refused to get help and abuse everybody around him And he has been abusiveIt's awful to me and my mother and even my sister now since I was a child since before I was even born he has been abusive

But that's what happens when your parents don't even date for an entire year and then decide to get married

I wish I wasn't fucking born

I cannot wait to get old and pass away of whatever the fuck

I'm tired of this shit and that above is intrusive thoughts don't you dare put me in a grippy sock land it's basically diet prison and I have severe trauma from it.

I know that people say they care but I don't actually know if they care

Because people will say well if I didn't care then I wouldn't do this they say that I've heard it a million times and then they turned around and stabbed me in the back

I don't know how to fit in with other people and I'm tired of trying I've tried my entire life and I've been rejected so much

Like people don't understand that my entire life has basically been punishment that's all I can remember is just bad things happening

I don't really remember anything good for very long

My brain is so much in flare up that I can't even remember covers scissors I've had with people I really love

But I don't even think that people I really love even care about me anymore

I feel like everyone is just sick of me

Don't feel like I ever got a chance

You don't feel like I got to live my life ever and I don't feel like I'm living it now

My heart feels fucking broken all the time

It feels like a gaping wound

I wish I could just go to like the fucking Mayo clinic and get all of my health stuff figured the fuck out. I don't want to see any more doctors I'm so tired of seeing doctors. I'm so tired of medical shit. I haven't even gotten to sit and read and really actually enjoyed my special medical interest. And having a special interest is kind of like a thing for me and I don't have any interest right now

I have lots of ideas of things I could possibly do or just things to do but I can't execute any of them I can't even get the dishes clean I can't get my room organized for longer than a month or even a week

I can't get this place cleaned up and organized enough to have people over to have a social life of any form

I just want to leave I want to just get in my car fill it with gas and drive in whatever direction and then when the car runs out of gas or explodes or I run out of money I don't know that's what I've been feeling like doing for a long time just running the fuck away from everything

But I can't because it's hell just trying to leave my apartment

I've been wanting to play it's a garden all fucking Spring and summer and I can't even afford to Go get Plants or seeds I can't Work It in my budget to do a garden other than the stupid onions and the aloe plant that I have growing and it's upsetting because like I would love to have something hobby wise to do but I can't Find anything I enjoy I have a million activities that I have bought Myself and I have 0 interest in doing any of them I have interest in doing things I Don't own but I can't do those things Or I would be trying to

I need to join a gym but I don't want anybody bothering me about my weight or talking to me about it but I can't fit in my budget

And no my budget is notebook or a ledger or anything like that it's just I stare at my bank account and I think about how much this thing costs and if it's necessary for me to live or if I can live without it so I can have enough money for the rest of the month and have some reserve emergency money in case one of my therapy cats gets sick

It's speaking of cats my fucking father and sister neglected the cat that I had to take care of that was fucking miserable the entire time that my dad basically forced her to be alive for a few more months on steroids that we're eventually going to kill her and then I finally convinced him it was time to let her go because she's like 19 and miserable and she was not happy and I spoiled her and gave her as much love and attention as I could and I neglected my social life and everything And then I had to use an ice her at the vet I had to be there I had to have Travis and my mom show up because my dad even thoughHe could have driven down the street and faced what he didThe fucking neglect he put that cat through and the work I had to do to just get her Fur clean. They had to cut her nails out of her foot pads. I could seriously stringle him and my sister for promising to take care of her when I notice signs of neglect and then they fucking didn't

And then they both have the audacity to get mad at me for taking over

And there's another cat that I very much need to go rescue and either rehome or keep with me because he's terrified and he pees and poops everywhere because no one gives him the kind of litter and litter box he needs and he probably has a medical condition of some form or a urinary tract infaction and he needs help and it makes me mad because he should be very healthy and happy and getting love And I am so close to calling animal control on my own family

And my mom my mom keeps a big giant dog in a cage that's probably way too fucking small for him all day until she can get at home to let him out to pee which is cruel

That dog was actually supposed to be mine but she took him and she gave him to alcoholic man and now she says that he's hers and the dog has bitten several people and she's just not getting it trained at all and I hate the way that they treat animals like accessories and alarm systems

I mean I fucking volunteer for the animal shelter and foster because I don't want animals to go to awful ass people

Not only did I experience hoarding when I grew up I experienced animal hoarding

You know what interest that I have that I want to do that it's driving me insane

I want to ride horses again and I can't

I way too much and I can't lose the fucking weight because my metabolism is fucking broken right now probably because of stress and the hypothyroidism that my interchronologist will not treat me for because he's a dumb fuck and I'm angry as hell

I understand that people do a lot of things they don't want to do to earn money and that's been mentioned to me before that people think I just don't wantna work or something and it's like no I do want to work I would probably be better at a lot of people's jobs than they are but currently I'm not in the correct state of mind or physical state to do any of this and it drives me nuts because my brain is going a million fucking miles an hour and I'm not manic This is just how it is

Didn't even go get a fucking tattoo like other people do when they are just trying to deal with stress

I don't even feel like I fit in with anybody or anywhere

I mean that's been my entire life

I don't even know who I would be or if I could even build a character and then act like that like everybody else seems to do

Because people who are neurotypical all look and act like they're sticking to this unspoken script and I feel like an outsider observing them being like WTF WHY DID THAT TAKE 8 STEPS IT COULD HAVE BEEN 2. Or WHY DO YALL JUST ASSUME SHIT AND HAVE CONVERSATIONS THAT MAKE NO SENSE like Why do people ask how other people are doing if they don't want to really know why is it that we have to just go oh just living the dream I'm fine why can't I just tell people what's actually going on why is this a thing I don't understand

I'm also terrified that people are trying to make me somebody I'm not that I probably could never be like

It feels like accounts of people who have gone through gay conversion therapy and shit

Like you can't make a neurodiverget person neurotypical it doesn't work that way and I get so tired of people trying to force neurotypical ideas Unto people who don't think that way

I don't know how to explain this to people anymore I just feel like I'm repeating myself over and over and over and over again and I might as well talk to a fucking brick wall because that might be more intelligent than people just fucking ignoring what I'm saying

I would love to be able to go outside right now in the dark and go on a walk by myself unarmed without having to worry but no I can't do that because shit is dangerous and I'm too scared to leave my apartment half the time

I'm exhausted I'm absolutely exhausted and so fucking mad

And I'm tired of being mad I'm tired of being resilient I'm tired of being everything that I'm not and not knowing who I am

I'm tired of trying to fit in and I don't feel like I fit in anywhere I don't even feel like I'm the logger I feel like it was a mistake that I was born

I want to talk to my schizophrenic uncle so bad and nobody understands everybody thinks that I'm going to ruin his progress or whatever and to leave him alone but he doesn't think of me that way he doesn't think that I'm a bad person that's out to get him or anything like that I've been the only person in his life and he's been the only person in my life that actually understands what I go through And I understand all the shit he went through if he's even still identifying as male because my dad gave me some sort of hint that he was in Transition but I don't know that for sure because no one will talk to me about it and I'm mad as hell and if I knew where he lived I would call him and I would drive there and visit him for a weekend if I could afford it

You know I get tired of this being there for myself all the time

I have been alone a lot of my life I have been isolated and abused and alone constantly and the only piece I get is from now until like 5 AM in the morning I get quiet and peace if there's not some crazy ass shit happening outside of my apartment in the middle of the night

When I set next to my dad on the sofa I could feel his energy I could tell that he wanted to jump across that sofa and hurt me and I could feel it I know that his body language might not have said that but he knows how to do body language and all this other stuff because he doesn't want to get caught and get in trouble

Like you have no idea how manipulative both of my parents are and they say they love me and they care about me but why did they do everything they did to me then and why do they continue to treat me like shit and why do I still love them and feel like I have to fucking make them happy and help them and do all these things that everybody else does for their parents but their parents aren't psychos

And I don't care if my language sounds combative or defensive right now I don't give a single shit

Maybe people should have thought before they fucking spoke

Maybe people shouldn't have molested me or raped me or held a gun to my head or hurt me or made me strip to check me for hickeys and then denied doing it and then admitted to doing it and then denied it again and then admitted and then denied and then said that they didn't remember it all maybe it was super inappropriate for my father to sleep in the bed with me growing up and I don't know if he ever did anything to me or not because I don't really remember much but him and my mother fighting all the time

It was super fucking inappropriate for my mother's father to fucking molest me

Was super fucking inappropriate for everybody to just tell me to get over it because he was drunk

It was super fucking fucked up that I had to be at his funeral

If he had a grave in the ground I would go and piss on it Unfortunately he's in a mausoleum and I can't do anything about that

I can't do anything about the people that raped and attacked me when I was a teenager

I can't do anything about the men that walk past and grope me

I can't do anything about fuck all

Because nobody believes women not until it happens to them do they believe you or even worse they don't believe you and it happens to them and your story is still not important

I had teachers tell me that I was going to go nowhere in life and completely fail at everything

Just because they got annoyed with me Because I didn't understand stuff

Not even just one teacher I had another 1 that literally had me screaming crying shaking under a fucking water fountain when I was in elementary school because she just wouldn't leave me alone because I went to the library during lunch too much and she wanted me to go outside and get some sun and I was not supposed to be in the Sun because of medication I was on and I flipped out at her and I cursed her out and I flashed out and all I remember is My home room teacher coming out and telling the other teacher to back off and leave me alone and even she had to sit with me for a while and I wasn't very nice to her in reactionAnd she's dead now and I don't even remember what her name was but she was the only teacher in school the meeting was that everybody thought was awful to understand that I was having problems at home and she could do anything about it

Every close friend I have ever had has left me behind for other people or died

My father hit me in the face and broke my fucking nose in high school that's why my nose is crooked and I had blood shooting out of it right and my mom didn't call the cops because she didn't see it happened and I got told that everybody would lose their jobs and we would lose the house if I called the police

And I went to school with 2 black eyes because that's what happens when your nose gets hit 13 times your eyes get blocked as well

And I told my teachers you were mandated reporters and I told my friends and I begged for help and no one did anything

No one has ever done anything no 1 has taken care of the problem I've tried I've tried so hard to make everybody stop hurting me

just keep hurting me they just keep hurting me in every way that they can

It's not fair and I know life isn't fair but shouldn't it be just a tidy bit fair it seems to be fair for people that have the money for it to be fair it seems to be fair for people who have well-adjusted families it seems to be fair for people who don't have auto immune disorders

And you know it's probably because of abuse and stress I had as a child that I even developed an auto immune disorder it might never have been triggered but we don't know I can't prove that

And I don't understand why my parents think I'm trying to control them what do I have to gain what do I have to gain from trying to just control them to the point that they act paranoid like I'm gonna ruin their lives or something

I don't understand that I don't understand why they even think that I think that way

My parents fucking think that I have like this evil mindset when they're mad at me they're just like you think this and you think that and you this and you that just gasliding the fuck out of me

And they just act like overgrown children and they act like they have different personalities themselves

And I hate this I fucking hate it

Why was there no Justice for my father hurting me and I got a legitimate injury from that

Why was there no Justice for my sister's bullshit and hurt attacking me and starting the whole thing to where he got up and hurt me

He could think he said he could think and he was fine and then he used the excuse that he was fucked up on meds after he did it and then he apologized to me on text but then several minutes later called my mother and told her that I was a psycho and all this other bullshit crap

They fucking talk out of both sides of their mouths and they talk about me behind my back and they trash me and I know that because my sister has listened to it and I have also caught my sister trash talking me and I don't understand I'm not a bad person I don't do horrible shit to people

I fucking could

Nobody understands that I could ruin people's lives I know everybody's secrets because they all tell me their secret bullshit

Do you know how much powerful information I have about almost everyone I know and even acquaintances and even random people who run the state people who are prominent lawyers people who are billionaires people who live in other countries who are important I know lots of things about all these people because they confided in me about really fucked app shit they did and I'm really good generally at keeping secrets and I could fuck everybody's world up and I choose not to

But I'm getting very tired of being nice

But being mean really isn't fulfilling to me

And everybody is like you should be meaner you should be more assertive you should be a bitch and I'm like no you know I would rather not

I mean I've tried to build my own character to understand myself and explain myself to myself which is such a mind fuck because how am I talking to myself when I'm my brain

I mean why does any of this matter the universe isn't even locally real and I understand what that means and that's pretty wild and I don't think anybody else thinks about shit like that and understands the gravity of everything

And I don't care how insane my journal writing looks I just I don't give a fuck you're getting unfiltered brain thoughts because I've got thousands of them just buzzing around in my head and it doesn't shut up until I can have medicine for my ADHD and then I get complete silence or if I smoke enough weed my brain shuts up and I just have stoner thoughts

I'll give you a stoner thought I had the other day

For instance why in the world canfellen's not own guns but a felon could become president and have nuclear launch codes is it that like you know the biggest gun of all

What the fuck is wrong with this world

Sometimes I feel like I was just a soul that was happy on the other side and got shot into a body and shot down the Earth and born and I don't feel like I belong here at all

I mean it would be great if a medicine would solve all of my problems but I've been on everything we've ruled out every fucking diagnosis except for a associative disorder of some form or a personality disorder not specified because I'm not BPD

BPD is what I was diagnosed at before they figured out I had complex PTSD and BPD is a bullshit umbrella diagnosis that they give women who are hystericalProbably just have complex PTSD and poor emotional regulation and they just have it learned to fix that but they're being treated for something they don't even have so of course the therapies not going to work and they're not going to get better

EMDR helped me but I was always furious after the sessions

I was mad because of the injustice

And I don't like therapists that are super hard on me because I'm really hard on myself and I need someone to be gentle and handle me with fucking kid gloves because that's what I respond to I respond to gentle

I don't respond to patronizing gentle bullshit or being chided or I don't even know how to describe it it's a certain way that every single therapist acts when they think they have you pinned for whatever but it's wrong and you know that they're wrong but they don't think they're wrongI don't know how to explain it at all

I'm really pissed off that I went non verbal

I really hate getting that way

But everything gets so fucking overwhelming

And I just shut down completely

And I can't remember things that people tell me and I can't even make a grocery list today I made a fucking grocery list and I left it at home because I auto piloted myself to the Asian supermarket to get groceries there why I don't fucking know I just did

I mean I got stuff but it cost almost $200 and it wasn't even that much food

I don't even need that much and everybody thinks that I'm lying about that because I'm a big girl but my metabolism is wrecked I had to be on steroids for a large portion of my life

Steroids fucked with everything but it was the only thing that was going to keep me alive and make me build muscle because I don't think you understand that you're mad at my aside as eats peoples muscles your immune system starts to just Nibble away your muscles till they're almost fucking gone

I could not walk

I had to learn to walk again I had to go to speech therapy I had to go to therapy to be able to use my Hands and move in general

I have been through every sort of physical therapy that exists

I've been into huge scary fucked medical studies that Ted Kennedy ran at NIH or he funded it

That's really weird I'm still bothered by that I'm always going to be bothered by that I want my fucking files from all of that I want to know what the hell they did to me

You know I look at pictures of my brain on disks because I've had so many Mr i's and I notice things and I'm not a radiologist so I cannot diagnose myself but there's a lot of stuff if I look at that and then I look at a normal brain it doesn't look right

Like the middle part of the brain that sort of looks like a butterfly and looks like a big empty space yeah mine is huge and not connected in the middle correctly like I'll have to show you it's weird

And I have asked doctors about this and they're like oh sometimes people just have that or people with schizophrenia have that and I'm like oh great wonderful

I don't want another goddamn diagnosis of something that's gonna be on my chart and have doctors be like oh my God what the fuck but I also do want to know what the hell is going on so at least I am aware

And Doctor Todd used to tell me that I was too smart and that I was too observant and that other people didn't like that and were not gonna respond well to me and we're gonna act threatened and he explained all this to me he explained how my life would be if I continued to just be myself if I didn't figure out a way to just act differently and settle with some guy that I could tolerate in order to just get the hell away from my parents because he knew what was going on with meAnd he knew that I am so handicapped that I would need a fucking safety net of money in case me trying to sell art or whatever it is I wanna do failed

And he asked about me what is death bed

And it hurts because I feel like he cared about me more than my own family ever did

I feel like I'm just a giant fucking burden to everybody

And I hate this time of year because I don't know what happened to me this time of year because the body keeps the score and so does parts of the brain and from this point in time till my birthday I am a wreck every fucking year and I don't want to be but I am it's just every year this happens

Every year I just get more and more and more stressed out than closer I get to Birthday

And then most people forget my birthday or they do something shitty

And I just want to celebrate my birthday and have a nice party and it's important to me and people are like why don't you just have a normal day I don't do anything for my birthday well you know you didn't have to fucking fights to survive

That's why I celebrate my birthday because I am still alive

And there's lots of people out there that have succumbed to the PTSD and not made it out alive and I am still here

I don't want to be here but I'm still fucking here

I hate it here I wish that aliens would come and abduct me and take me far far away

I don't care if it sounds stupid I don't feel like I belong here I don't feel like a person

I just feel like I'm a mirror or a masking and then I don't know What I am or who I am when I'm not doing that I have an extremely poor sense of self and I don't know how to wrap my brain around creating my own ideas of myself and describing myself to other peoples it's a nightmare

I mean I'm still trying to get the diagnosis of BPD removed from our lady of the leg's records

I'm not even changing that that one's funny that typo is funny

I'm sitting here yelling at my phone crying and that was ridiculous

I mean is there such thing as being too smart and aware and logical or whatever is there such a thing is that what is ruining my life and I just over analyzing everything in my worrying too much what the fuck is it that I'm doing that I'm not in control of because it seems like there's something neurologically going on that no one has been able to figure out

And I haven't been able to see the kind of specialist I would need to see to figure that out

I do know that my dad's side of the family has a history of really weird mental issues and not schizophrenic disorder or it's a frontier like my uncle has that one's just out of the ballpark popped out of nowhere because my grandmother and her son of the family didn't have issues like that and neither did my father's side that I'm aware of but it seems to be like there's been a lot of cluster b type disorders

And then on my mom's side there's a lot of cluster b type disorders that nobody will admit to having but it's blatantly obvious

But I had an uncle a great uncle and he had some sort of mental issue and he died early because ofbut and I don't know how or why or what that was about but nobody talks about it

And that's another thing I take issue within the South growing up here being native to hear everybody doesn't want to talk about anything everybody wants to sweep it under the rug and not look at it no one wants to look at what's wrong everybody just wants to Push the weaker people out of the way or the threat out of the way and carry on with their lives like nothing is even going on no one wants to deal with it

And when I was growing up on one side of the family I was to be seen and not heard and that was dad's side of the family and on the other side of the family I was encouraged to do art and to dance and put on a show for everybody

And it was not good for me

And I missed my grandmother's I wish they were still alive I would go live with one of them

Because they understood me they knew they fucking knew that my parents were fucking insane and they tried to talk to my parents and they tried to tell my parents to stop being awful to me and my parents didn't listen because my parents had grudges against their parents so of course they're not gonna listen

My dad before I had my diagnosis where I had my diagnosis and all the people that were adults in my life before I had a diagnosis of the dramatic site as used to tell me that I was just faking it for attention and that I was a liar and being called a liar is one of the biggest triggers I have because I'm not a fucking liar if I want to lie I will but I don't lie like that I have a hard time lying about 99% of things and sometimes my brain makes an exception depending on the predicament and if it's for survival or something

Also on my dad's side of the family there's lots of gay people and it was all covered up my father even experimented in college and everything and I had to hear about that as a child my mom would get angry and just shit talking to me

They should have never gotten married they should have never had me I should exist and I don't mean that in a suicidal way I just I don't belong here

I really just don't feel like I belong here and it's not in a depressed way or I want to die sort of way even though those are interesting thoughts I get sometimes but it's not like anything I experience experience usually

I just feel not human

I feel like I'm in the wrong body all the time like how did I get here why am I in this body

Sometimes I'm like who is this bitch and her family why am I here sometimes I just want to be a little kid and buy toys for myself and stuff and I can't do that cause I can't afford it isn't I get really sad because I have adult money and I should be able to use it for whatever I want and sometimes I remember I have free will and I think about going and just buying an entire birthday cake for myself when it's not even my birthday but I never do that because why it cost you fucking much

There's a lot of typos that say you when they should say other words and I'm not going to fix that I hope that you can understand it because I've done it too many times through Text-to-speech because I can't type as fast as my brain and mouth go

I just I want to go home and I used to repeat that Uber and Uber and Uber when I was young and upset when my parents would be screaming at 1 another I would stick my head between the couch cushions and I would scream for them to stop and I would repeat I want to go home and I would Rock back-and-forth and I would tell them to stop and I would plead with them to stop and they would tell me to fuck off and go to my room and I would sneak out of my room and stand at the hall door and peak and watch them argue because I was terrified that they were going to kill each other

The things that I heard my parents say 21 another growing up is nothing anybody should hear at the age

One thing that my mom used to say as a funny story is that 1 day I was like a little tiny kid and 1 of the first things I said was you old buzzard because my mom was calling my dad a bastard

I mean I don't see how that's funny at all

I don't think it's very funny that some strange man at 1 of their little Christmas parties at 1 of their little friend's houses made me put my mouth on his Dick when I was a tiny child unless that happened somewhere else

I don't think it's too awesome that I was locked in a closet and my mom found a whole bunch of kids wandering around with no adult and me locked into closet gasping for air under a pile of pillows

And those were the same people that did things to me and I can't prove it because she took me to the Doctor to get me checked out and there was no sign of it but I remember it It's something that I can't talk about in detail it's very foggy but I remember things I remember strange men I was 2 years old

And I was secretly hyper sexual growing up as well and it was shamed for it just a point where I was scared to touch myself and then I became hypersexual again when I went to elementary school probably about middle school and it was weird

And then I was not exactly hypersexual in the fact that I would have sex with everybody and any of these instances but in high school was a thing where I would flirt with entirely to many people and full around with people and get myself in situations where bad things happened to me and I guess that's not really my fault that's just the fault of the other people and the adult that was supposed to be watching us

One reason me and Justin didn't work out is because he was the first person that ever went down on me and I was like 15 or 16 years old and the friend's mom who was there encouraged us to go do that she encouraged me to suck another guy's Dick once and sat there and watched

She would take her giant fat tits and lift up her shirt and press her tits against the window when she would like get out of the car right before she would undo child lock and let all of us out of the car because she thought it was funny she was the most inappropriate adult she would make us bring 20 bucks for pizza and then buy us whatever alcohol we wanted if we gave her the money so she could buy herself a carton of cigarettes And then get us like one pizza to share it was fucked up and I should have been out there hanging out with Travis and all the other people on Carlotta street instead of hanging out In a grown adult's home with people who I thought were my friends who were just taking advantage of me

And the thing is my parents thought it was safer for me to be with the person that had their mom

Instead of hanging out with a bunch of people my own age who were just moving out and living on their own and going to college while I was maybe a little bit younger but should have already graduated

I mean I couldn't get homework done because I was always in fight or flight or freeze at home because my parents would be arguing and then I wouldn't be able to sleep and I can't tell you how many medicines and drugs that doctors tried on me to fix me because my parents were unhappy with me I mean it's possible it's completely fucked my brain up and it's not repairable I don't know I'll probably never know I don't know how much can be fixed in how much I am capable of and how much I'm just not capable of

I've never had official testing done for my autism other than doctors going yep you seem to be autistic and it makes sense to me and I think self-diagnosis is pretty fucking valid but I don't know where I am on the scale or range or spectrum I don't I don't know all I know is I have an easy time doing a lot of things in a very very hard time doing other things that should be easy

And I have an easy time helping other people but I have a very hard time helping myself or getting help for myself but I have 0 issues trying to help other people if I have the bandwidth

I mean I don't even feel like I was born to be a daughter and be treated like a daughter I just feel like I was born to be an accessory and then they got bored with me and I didn't grow up and turn into what they wanted and now everybody resents me and tells me what's wrong with me and I have to fix myself but they can't be held accountable for their bullshit and they don't do anything about it they say that they're gonna hold themselves accountable but then they never do anything about it they apologize but they never show me any changes

So why should I be nice to them why should I care why should I even try

Because they pay for my apartment in my phone and my internet and various things

I don't feel like I owe them anything

They've done enough to me

They've isolated me enough I mean I don't know what else they want that they want to lock me up in some long-term facility so they don't have to talk to me or deal with me I mean what the fuck

What do they want to put me in a little studio apartment and then just disown me

It's just fucking I don't know how to explain this

I'm not a spoiled rotten brat I have never asked for all the tremendous amounts of things that my parents have decided to just give me I don't like surprises it actually throws me off big time and I have giant freaks freakouts

Like absolute meltdowns and people always thought that I was having like a spoiled brat tantrum but no it's just I don't do well with changes I don't like changes at all I have things that I'm used to and ways that I do things and I don't like it when people try to control me And the thing is they do they try to control everything they dread a micro manage me and that happened to me my entire life and I don't want anybody coming near me anymore

And they have successfully fucked me up all of this has fucked me up every bad fucked up thing that has happened to me has ruined me

I don't know if I am able to be helped anymore

I don't feel like I belong here.

I want to go home.

I just want home.

I keep thinking I've found home and it's a lie

0 notes

superhusbands4ever · 4 years ago

Text

Here’s a fun tale from your local Target employee:

I was pushing truck for OTC today which is the pharmacy area. I was pushing cases of hand sanitizer because we got the “good stuff” in today (purell) and it goes quick even with the the product limit put in place. People were literally taking it from my hand before I could put it on the shelf, but that’s not the point.

As I was putting the goods on the shelf, this woman comes up to the stand and she’s very excited. “Yes! You guys have it! How many can I take, is there a limit?” I say yes, 3 per person per transaction per day. She nods, accepting, and grabs her three. “Sorry, that was weird. I’m a teacher, I’m trying to stock up. I promise I’m not a hoarder.” I smile and nod and say it’s fine. She starts to walk away but stops and turns back.

“Do you have any Clorox wipes in stock by any chance?”

Heart sinking, I shake my head and say no, sorry, and we don’t know for sure when we’ll get more. (We get them maybe once every two weeks, but the product limit for those is one per person per transaction per day and they usually sell out within hours of going on the shelf.)

Her face dropped and she kinda looked down at her hand sanitizer and said “that’s okay, with the product limit I wouldn’t be able to get enough before school starts anyway. It’s only 4 weeks away.” She laughed a little but I could hear the frustration in her voice and see the tension in her face. She sounded defeated. The most I could offer her was one of the small bottles of pure bleach. I honestly wanted to cry. For a second there I thought she would. I had no clue what to say as she turned and walked away.

This is what teachers are dealing with. Even in years when there’s not a pandemic they have to rely on donations from parents or their own money to be able to buy hand sanitizer, wipes, tissues, etc. for their classrooms. Now they’re being forced to return to school with no extra funding, no extra supplies, no support from the government; they’re STILL expected to provide for and protect these kids *on their own.* All while, now, risking their own lives and their own health because the government doesn’t want to admit that they fucked up handling this pandemic.

Every time I hear someone say “kids don’t die from it, it’ll be fine,” I realize that person does not give a flying fuck about teachers. Sure, *maybe* the kids will be fine. But the teachers are not children. They are adults with underlying conditions, adults living with elderly family, adults who are over 50 and are at more risk. Adults with at risk family at home. Adults who are at risk themselves. But they are STILL trying their hardest to protect your children in the classroom.

It’s honestly fucked up that we live in a country where police departments get millions or even billions of dollars in state funding, yet teachers have to buy their own cleaning supplies and doctors have to reuse PPE in hospitals. Police get tens of thousands of dollars worth of riot armor to wear and terrorize peaceful protesters, while the Navajo Nation get sent body bags instead of medical supplies.

Honestly I don’t know where I’m going with this, but I’m tired y’all. I’m tired and frustrated because leadership in this country doesn’t care enough to prioritize human life. Idk, it was a small moment in the grand scheme of things but it really was a slap in the face reminder of how this country treats it’s own people. I feel like we’ve all been getting those lately.

#covid 19 #ranting #retail worker #retail woes #united states #us politics

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youryanderedaddy · 3 years ago

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I had a dream just now that might make a good story. So, I had a virus on my laptop which allowed a hacker to see everything I did on my computer and use my webcam. The hacker ends up falling in love with me after stalking me for a few months and pays for someone on the dark web to kidnap me. It works, and then I wake up tied up in the hacker's arm as he caresses and kisses me. That's pretty much it, good night! 🌙

Yo this is my kink 😳

Also I couldn't not write this for Saeran, ok.

Title: Stranger danger

Tw: nsfw - ish, female reader, masturbation, cyber stalking, hacking, mentions of dark web, very irresponsible online behavior, obsessive behavior, implied kidnapping

You knew that this was a stupid idea. Lurking on the dark web with almost no protection other than the Tor browser and some free anti-virus program wasn't your best decision, but fuck it if it wasn't entertaining. You had always been drawn to the darker, scarier part of the human mind and this side of the internet proved quite interesting. Your friends always warned you about the dangers that came with looking up shady online searches and sites but everything had been quite peaceful so far. There weren't hackers or murderers on the dark web, the worst you had seen were people selling drugs and weapons for unreasonable prices, along with some questionable fetish porn and the typical popping ads.

Your favorite thing to do while online was chatting. Two weeks ago you had stumbled upon an unusual forum called "Scream buddies" where upon entering you were automatically connected to another random profile. The whole theme of the forum was discussing horror and mondo movies, shockumentaries and overall creepy stuff, your forte. The person you met on there shared a similar fascination with all things dark and gory which soon made talking to them the only thing you were looking forward upon opening the site.

You didn't know much about the guy behind the profile yet, except that he was a young man. His icon showed an eye so green it emited with the neon pigment and his username was just as mysterious - BlueRose7. You enjoyed chatting with him about your hobby but the thing you liked the most was undressing him little by little, metaphorically so, by getting pieces of information about his life. It started small - his favorite food, favorite book, favorite game, but the moment you tried digging deeper and asked whether he had siblings or not, the man simply disappeared for the next few days. You quickly realized just what type of topics you needed to avoid to keep your new friend from leaving. Family, childhood memories and work matters were out of the picture.

The stranger wasn't fair, not really. He didn't show you vulnerability and kept his secrecy while demanding to know everything there was to know about you. For the longest time you didn't want to answer just to stay on a equal footing, just to show him how frustrating it was, but there was something about the man that drew you in. He was magnetic, clever and witty, if a bit pessimistic and dark at times. You couldn't help telling him everything he wanted to hear - what your job was, whether you were single or not, all that jazz. In your defense, BlueRose7 actually listened to your stories, took your problems seriously and provided solutions, which despite being too extreme and overprotective at times (upon hearing that your bestfriend talked behind your back he offered to "take care" of her), were comforting. It was nice to have someone caring around even if you met him on a sketchy website.

Meanwhile your personal life wasn't going too great. You had to balance between attending college, working long shifts as a waitress and meeting your friends from time to time which was draining. On top of all there was a weird virus on your computer which resulted in the camera turning on and off and the most random times of the day - while you were studying, watching TV, or in some cases, fully naked and ready to take a bath. You didn't think much of it though, with all the illegal movies and games you downloaded along with the dark web lurking it was more than expected for your laptop to behave weirdly. You didn't even mention it to your friend from the IT major because you knew that he'd force you to delete Tor and put an end to your internet adventures.

One time you were particularly bored after several long lectures and you were laying in bed, the camera turned on once again. It was a hot afternoon and you were wearing boyshorts and a loose T- shirt with nothing underneath it, you were home alone so there was no need. The bright red spot was twinking like a recorder, the light reflecting in your eyes, when a silly little idea came to your mind. You slid your hand under your blouse and lifted the fabric up, exposing your breasts to the laptop, your nipples hardening due to the sudden coldness, becoming pink and stiff in seconds. You played with for a few minutes, pinching and pulling the buds gently, moaning softly into the pleasant sensation. Soon you could feel yourself getting wet, and slowly, teasingly, removed your shorts and panties. You smiled at the camera, biting your lip provocatively, imagining you were a camgirl performing for her desperate little fanboys and fangirls. The thought alone was enough to make you spread your legs wide and slip two fingers into your throbbing cunt, using the wetness to push deeper. You used your other hand to stroke your clit and whimpered wantonly, your face red, your neck sweaty and your heart pumping fast from the adrenaline. You were quickly reaching your orgasm and your mind wondered to the boy you were talking to in the forum. You wondered how he looked like, how his body was built, whether he was a sweet sensual lover or a rough mean one. Fucked up as it was, you pictured the man as one of your most loyal viewers, watching all of your streams with a fist around his thick vock and an excited grin on his face. He would comment things like "you look so beautiful like this" or perhaps even "pretty little slut" after tipping you enough to last you a week. Soon all the mental stimulation sent you over the edge and you came with a loud cry full of pleasure. Well, this felt good.

After your "performance" was over the camera was magically turned off, which may have caused some concerns if you weren't too busy feeling embarrassed and dirty about the unhinged fantasy you had just had, and with a person you knew nothing about. You managed to calm down though - it wasn't nothing more than a fun pastime, a naughty thought that would never become the reality. You would never actually meet BlueRose7, right? There was nothing to worry about, so you just went on with your day.

You had some dinner afterwards and decided to have an early night as you already felt full and tired. You put on your favoruite pajamas and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling until you fell into deep dreamless sleep.

You woke up due to a weird noise. You could hear someone's heavy breathing right next to your ear, someone's grabby hands were wrapped tightly against your body, trapping you between the wall and their hard chest. You had only a few seconds to scream before the intruder's palm covered your mouth.

"Shhh." The man whispered softly and stroked your hair like you were a doll he was playing with. "Don't scream or I'll be forced to hurt you, flower. I have a gun." His voice sounded deep and rough but this didn't stop you from thrashing and turning on your side until you came face to face with the man. It was dark in the room and you couldn't exactly see all his features but his enchanting green eyes would forever be burned into your memory - they seemed dashing, hypnotizing. You couldn't utter a word.

"It's me, the person you've been talking to all these months. I came to take you home" He spoke out suddenly, the line of his mouth twisting into a smile or a smirk, you couldn't quite tell. You shook your head no, tears threatening to spill all over your cheeks from the fear. It couldn't be him, the man would never do that to you. Or would he? With what little information you knew, you couldn't really tell. His hold finally loosen, seeing you quiet like that.

"Let me go, please." You begged, pushing at his shoulders weakly since you were still sleepy, groggy and tired. "I don't know you." You said, hoping this would remind the stranger you weren't friends, lovers or anything that gave him the right to be so close to you, to touch you so intimately. Unfortunately, this only seemed to amuse him and he chucked darkly as he pulled your hair away to place a small chaste kiss on your neck.

"But I know you, flower." Your supposed online friend replied shortly after, his eyes full of malice. "And your little show today makes me think you want to know me too." He added in a low tone, licking his lips before smashing them on yours, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth just to hear your whines and protests. Then it hit you. The camera, the virus, the questions. He had watched you, he knew where you worked, where you lived and studied, everything. You had told him after all.

The hacker thought you looked so adorable right now, figuring things out, helpless, confused, regretful and most of all, weak. You were so weak and careless, and he loved you for it. It reminded him of himself before life screwed him over.

You wouldn't be in this position, underneath him, if you had just told someone about your laptop virus and the bad guy you had encountered online. But Saeran couldn't say he wasn't glad your self-preservation instincts were so very broken and dysfunctional. He wouldn't meet you otherwise. "I need you, princess. That's why I'll take you to Paradise." These were the final words you heard before you felt lightheaded and sleepy again, your last memory a pair of green mint eyes.

You really shouldn't have trusted strangers on the internet.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere mystic messenger #yandere saeran #yandere oneshot #yandere saeran choi #yandere unkown #yancore #male yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you #yandere hacker

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ms-starflower · 3 years ago

Text

Young Survivors — Maribat

It’s almost four am here, I just finished writing this and am just tired enough to actually go through and post it. And this title is the only thing my tired brain could come up with. Anyway. I haven't posted something I wrote in years, but all the Maribat I’ve read recently made me want to write something for it.

I don’t know if I’m ever going to write a 2 part, but if I do it’s definitely going to be Timari and contain a couple of typical Maribat tropes. And a pinch of salt.

Also, disclaimer: I haven't watched Miraculous in years and most of my DC knowlege come from fanfic or tumblr so... sorry not sorry.

Now with a part 2!

Next >

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

Mei Leyton’s oldest memories were of her mother, dolled up in pretty dresses and elegant makeup. In her daughter‘s eyes, Margaret Leyton was the most beautiful woman on earth.

For as long as she could remember, Mei would sit on the bed and watch as her mom would get ready to head to work. She had always loved those moments with her mom.

(How do I look, my little flower,” she said, twirling around Mei with a grin, making her laugh. It was Margaret’s favorite dress, a vintage halter blue dress with white accents and a white bow around the waist.

“Like a princess, mommy! The prettiest princess ever!”

“Oh no, no no no. You are the prettiest princess ever, my little flower.”)

She was four when her mother let her help for the first time, letting her pass along brushes and products. It’s then that she understood what were the purple marks on her mother that she covered with her makeup.

(“Life is not fair to us, my little flower,” she had said when Mei asked about it for the first time. “Being an orphan and pretty little girl in Gotham isn’t safe, and it doesn’t give much choice when it comes to survival.”

Mei didn’t understand then, but it didn’t matter anyway, life would make her understand soon enough.)

When Mei was seven, the GCPD found her mother’s body.

When she didn’t see her that morning, Mei hadn’t been worried; it wasn’t the first time. Mom would be home by noon, she always was. Until that day.

(The investigation wouldn’t get very far, it was just another prostitute of Camellia street, nobody cared about them. They were just there until they weren’t anymore.

Another girl would take her place in a couple of days. It was how those kinds of things worked in Gotham.)

That day was kind of blurry in her memory. She remembers being pulled out of class in the morning, and that the cop that told her about her mother’s death was very rude.

(“Your mom is dead, kid. A lad found her body in a dumpster this morning,” the guy had said as soon as she had sat down in the headmistress’ office. “Do you know who she worked for? Or on what side of the Camellia she stayed?” He had asked, halfheartedly.

Mei had shaken her head, even though she did; you don’t talk to cops in Gotham, mom always says said that it was the easiest way to get yourself killed, for people like them.

“Alright,” he had said, not surprised. “A social worker is going to pick you up in a bit to take you to your new home, kid.”

With that he had walked out of the office, not looking back. As if where she would end up was going to be home.)

She remembers that the social worker from CPS was a brunette with tan skin, and looked really overworked, but had a kind smile.

By the end of the day, she was taken to Elliot's Hall for Children, an overcrowded, understaffed orphanage with more kids than they could realistically care for.

(They don’t care for the children, they just put them there for a while and act as they do. Most children leave after a couple of days, and if they don’t, they get taken anyway.

Some come back with a police escort, some manage to survive in the streets, and nobody talks about the ones that are never seen again.

You don’t work there because you love children, and if you do, you don’t last for very long.)

Mei wasn’t stupid, her mother told her stories about those kinds of places. She came from those kinds of places, and Mei saw how the man in charge here had looked at her when the social worker dropped her off.

She wasn’t going to just stand here and wait for him to sell her back in Camellia street. Or worse, to the Candy Dealers.

Taking with her what she absolutely couldn’t leave behind, Mei made a choice her mother hadn’t been able to and took her chance with the streets.

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

Mei was a Camellia kid and, as such, took to the streets easier than most newcomers. She had picked up a few tricks from her aunties and her mom, and it helped her to survive out here.

The only (glaring) differences were the absence of her mother, the lack of a permanent roof above her head, and the fact that she had to provide food and money herself now.

(One of her favorite places to pick up wallets was Gotham Academy, where Gotham’s rich send their children. The kids always had money on them, and it’s not like they would miss it.

Though she couldn’t go too many times in a row, not without risking being spotted and remembered.)

She had been on the streets for two months when she met Jason Todd; the boy who would become her family.

She heard him before she saw him, to be honest. It was an awful crashing noise coming from around the corner, and it made her look.

He was running like the devil was after him, and judging by how the cops running behind him were clutching their batons, she wasn’t that far from the truth.

The noises were because of a couple of trash cans the boy had spilled in their way to slow them down.

And he was coming her way.

Against her better judgment, she grabbed his arm when he passed in front of her, and pulled him behind her into her hideout. Quickly getting the plank of wood back in place, she put her hand on his mouth before he could say anything. With the dumpster in the alley, the entry was almost invisible from outside.

They stayed there as they heard the men pass in front of their hiding place, listening as they argued about where the boy could have disappeared before their voices faded completely.

They waited another couple of minutes before he removed the hand she still had on his mouth and crawled out of there.

“Thanks,” he muttered with a scowl. “I woulda’ve been just fine without help but… yeah, anyway.” Then he had started to walk in the direction he came from.

“Hey! Wait!” She said before she could think about it. “Are ya just gonna, like, go? Just like that?”

“Huh, yeah? What do ya want me to do?” He asked, looking back at her from above his shoulder without stopping his walk. “Stay to drink a cup of tea and talk about the weather?”

“Well.. no. But I just… I just wanna talk a bit, ya know?” She couldn’t really explain why she didn’t want him to leave yet, it’s not like he was the first street kid she had helped out. He just felt different, and somehow she knew he could become important to her.

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed before turning his head back to look forward. “The streets are not some daycare for princesses who want to make friends, kid.”

“Kid— hey, dumbass, you’re, like, ten years old! You’re a kid too! And I’m not a princess, I can survive alone just fine!” Before she knew it, she was walking behind him, the weird feeling forgotten for the offence his comment created. He looked back at her with a frown, before choosing to ignore her. Not letting that deter her, she rambled at him about all the ways why she wasn’t a kid any more than him.

“I thought you could survive alone?” He said, talking over her, when he realized that she wasn’t going to let him be.

“I can.”

“So why are ya following me? Tryin’ to drive me crazy?”

“Well, no. It’s just... that I can do it doesn't mean I want to.”

“Look, kid,” he said, ignoring her protest and talking over her, again. “You should just go back to whatever orphanage you came from, there is probably some nice little family who's gonna pick you up. Then you could make all the friends you want.”

“Like people actually adopt kids in this city. This is Gotham, you dummy, not ‘Annie’. Some rich white guy isn’t going to come and pick up children from the streets to make them live the Grand life.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” he growled out without pausing in his steps. “Still, you’re pretty enough, I’m sure some nice people would adopt you in a second if you let them.”

“Yeah, sure. Mom thought the same when she was a kid, and guess what? She started working on Camellia street when she was fourteen, but nobody asked her if she wanted to. Because she was pretty enough,” the little seven years old spat with venom, her eyes narrowed. The boy stopped walking, turning toward her with eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. “Her best friend wasn’t, but mom said that she had the prettiest green eyes ever. When they found her body, she didn’t have eyes anymore, because some rich person paid to have pretty green eyes.”

“I— I didn’t—” he stuttered, eyes wide. With his scowl gone he looked so much younger, and Mei’s anger subdued. He wasn’t that much older than her, just a couple of years, maybe three or four, after all.

“It’s… okay, I guess. It’s Gotham. I just thought we both would have more chances to survive if we helped each other out. And, ya know, the company wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, but when they resumed walking he slowed down enough to let her walk beside him without almost-running.

“Great! So, Annie, where are we going now?” She said with a beaming smile, bursting into laughter at his indignation and protest against the nickname.

(“Can’t you stop calling me Annie already?! I told you my name’s Jason!”

“Nope, Annie.”

“Well, then, that makes you Sandy, doesn't it? Ya do follow me around like a stray puppy.”

“I’m not a dog— wait, hold on a minute! I knew you saw the movie! You liar!”)

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

She was ten when her life was put upside down once again, in the worst of ways.

It took practically no time before Jason “Annie” Todd became her brother in all but blood, it took longer for Jason to admit it, and they spend almost three years surviving together, barring the occasional trip back to the Children's Houses.

Though, they always found each other a couple of days after they escaped from those places.

Sometimes, Jason would plan something that he needed to do alone. Because of course, he did.

(“It’s the best job, my plan is perfect. Don’t worry, it’s gonna be great Sandy!”

“Yeah, and why can’t I come?”

“It’s too dangerous! Plus, you need to stay here and keep our things safe!”

“Yeah, if you say so, Annie.”)

That day was one of those days.

He was gone for less than an hour when they found her.

The Candy Dealers.

Mei paled when she saw them, wearing their nice suits and overly sweet smile. They told her they were social workers, specializing in homeless children, and offered her a lollipop. Social workers in Gotham don’t give candy to the kids, even the nice ones, and she knew from her time in Camellia street that the lollipop was drugged.

(“Never, ever, take candy from a Candy Dealer, Mei. Do you understand me? Never,” her mother told her gravely. “They put bad stuff in them, and if you put it in your mouth, they will take you away from me. I couldn’t live without you in my life, my little flower.”)

She tried to run, even before the first one got his hand totally outstretched toward her. But her panic made her stumble, and she was no match for them.

She tried to kick, and scream, and bite, but soon she felt a pinch in her neck, and everything was black.

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

The next period of her life was one she tried very hard to forget. For months she was moved, her and dozens of other people, from containers to containers, warehouse to warehouse. Twice they were put in a boat, the containers staying closed for so long, the next time she saw the moonlight, it burned her eyes.

She quickly learned that it was pointless to try to escape (and that Jason wouldn’t come and save her).

Then, one night, the place they were at was illuminated with blue and red lights and the police sirens were so loud, they drowned everything else.

She didn’t let herself hope, though. (She did, she hoped so hard her chest hurt.)

They (probably) weren’t in Gotham anymore, but her childhood didn’t instill her much trust in the police.

They did get them out. And she learned that they were in Paris now. In France. (That was a long way from Gotham.)

There were twenty-seven other people with her in the container. Four of which were kids, and only one other was also an orphan. They weren’t placed together, though. Because the kid had family back where he came from. Unlike her. (She had Jason. He was her family, but they didn’t listen.)

The French social workers took a while to know what to do with her exactly, but they didn’t want to send her back to Gotham (why not? She wanted to go back and find Jason!). So, in the meantime, they placed her in a foster family—one without any other kid, as per her therapist's advice. (The therapist didn’t know anything. She said Gotham wasn’t good for her, but Jason was in Gotham.)

Funnily enough, it ended up being a more permanent solution than previously considered, because the foster parents, Tom and Sabine, quickly fell in love with the little girl.

Not before long, Mei Leyton became Marinette Dupain-Cheng. (They changed her name to give her a ‘new beginning’ because her therapist thought it would be good for her. She didn’t want to have a ‘new beginning', she wanted to go back, to find Jason, to be the Sandy to his Annie. She was Mei, the Camellia’s kid, Sandy, the street’s kid and it was enough for her. She didn’t want to be Marinette, the bakers’ kid.)

So, when Mei was first put into the care of the Dupain-Cheng household, she regularly tried to run away. It was unsurprisingly harder than in Gotham, though. Tom and Sabine were way more attentive than Elliot Hall’s staff ever was, and more than a third of her tentatives were folded even before she was past the front door.

It took her three months (and forty-three unsuccessful tentatives) before she finally accepted that there would be no way for her to go back to Gotham. (Not that she had known how she would manage to do that before, her plan never got that far.) It took another six months before Tom and Sabine trusted her enough to let her wander the neighborhood alone.

The first thing she did the day her ‘new parents’ let her go to the library alone was to get to a public computer, and look Jason up. She didn’t really think she would find anything when she typed Jason Todd and Gotham in Google that day (maybe an obituary). She definitely didn't think she would find her best friend (brother) on the covers of so many tabloids declaring that he was Bruce Wayne’s ward.

She didn’t know how she should feel about the fact that he proved her wrong and became some real-life Annie. She wanted to feel angry, or hurt. Even more so when she realised that Wayne adopted him not even a full week after her (kidnapping) departure from Gotham, but…

But seeing Jason in the pictures… He looked so angry. Angrier than she ever saw him. And hurt. There was hurt hidden in his expression. It was well hidden but she could see it. (She did that, she was the one that hurted him. He probably thought she left him. That she wasn’t any better than his deadbeat of a father and abandoned him. What if he hates her now, because she was gone for so long?)

She needed to go back to Gotham, find him, and explain everything. She needed to tell him she didn’t want to leave him behind, that he was her family, and that it would never change. But Tom and Sabine didn’t want to take her back there, not before she was older, because she wasn’t ready yet, they said.

She didn’t care, though. No matter how long it would take her, she was going to go back. So, she slowly started to act like the perfect little girl. She didn’t really change, she just stopped bringing up Gotham so much, started to help more often in the house and at the bakery, and started to call Tom and Sabine Papa and Maman. (It wasn’t real, at first. But then, they just crawled into her heart against her will and became family. They didn’t replace her Mom or Jason, though. Nobody ever will.)

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

She started to heal. Slowly, without even realising. She opened up to a couple of children at her school, made friends with Nino, and sort of Frenemies (more enemy than friend, though) with Chloé Bourgeois. She picked up hobbies like sewing and designing, baking with Tom, or learning various martial arts with Sabine.

But she didn’t forget, going back to Gotham was still her ultimate goal. Until the news reached her, when she was twelve.

Jason Todd was dead.

Her best friend, her brother in everything but blood, her Annie. Dead. Jason was dead.

She felt like a part of her died with him, reading the words but not really processing. She let herself drown in her grief, closing up to everyone around her. Surprisingly, Chloé was the one that made her react. Literally slapping her to make her come back from the dead. (Not entirely, though. Mei, the Gothamite part of her, stayed dead with Jason. Only Marinette, the nice little parisian, came back.)

“I don’t really know what’s up with you, Dupain-Cheng,” she had said while Marinette cradled her sore cheek, her faux-contempt badly hiding her worry. “But you need to put yourself together. Tormenting you is no fun if you don’t react to it, and people are too worried for you to be afraid of me. Don’t make me call daddy on you.”

“I…” She had started, only to stop herself. She had looked back at Nino and Kim, both of whom were looking at her with poorly concealed worry. “Yeah, sorry Chloé.”

She pulled herself out of the worst of it after that, at the obvious relief of the people around her. None of which even knew why she was in this state. She still cried herself to sleep most nights, and sometimes felt like someone gouged out her heart with their bare hands, but she also started to let herself think of the good times. Started to let herself feel the good things happening around her, in the present.

Then, she saved the life of an old man, found magic earrings and a bug-mouse-kwami in her room that told her that she needed to become a hero and save Paris.

She thought of her big brother, of how he would always protect her when someone tried to rob them. Hide her, before even thinking of himself, when the cops would chase them down, trying to bring them back to Elliot's Hall. Give her all the food when they couldn’t get enough for the both of them. How he was a hero. Her Hero. And, really, there was only one thing she could say to that.

“Tikki, spots on!”

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

So. That's it. That was fun. I'm going to sleep now, goodnight.

Btw, Jason's super plan that day was totaly to steal the Batmobile's tires.

#maribat #mlb x dc #gothamite marinette #street kid marinette #platonic jasonette #probably a timari btw #timinette if that's how you call it #4am me decided to post it #2pm me could decide to delete it tho

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dubersbutt · 3 years ago

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Take a Bow (4) - Connor McDavid and Leon Draisaitl

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,

Warnings: Babies, anxiety/feelings of heightened anxiety, smut

It’s not that Connor hates kids. They just make him uncomfortable.

Like when his aunt had a baby when he was 13 his mom asked if Connor wanted to hold him. Connor was fine when his mom gently placed the baby in his arms. Up until his mom told her to be super careful with his head or else he could snap his neck and kill him. Or if Connor accidently pressed his soft spot it could severely detriment his brain development. It was too much responsibility.

At least that’s what he used to think.

He fell in love with Emilia the minute you walked through the front door with her in the baby carrier. The dogs were excited by the tiny squirming arms inside the carrier, he had to hold Lenny back so he didn’t crush her.

“This is going to sound super cliche,” Connor says as he coos into the carrier where Emilia is trying to open her tiny eyes, “but she is the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s a lot cuter now that her head is a normal shape,” you joke, munching on a cookie Connor had set out for you.

“Can you stop making fun of our daughter’s cone head?” Leon rolls his eyes.

“You didn’t see it, it was terrifying.”

(Connor googles a picture of it later. Babies are fucking weird.)

He helps you up the stairs to the waiting cup of tea on the mug warmer in your bedroom. He lets you get settled, handing you the TV remote and giving you a kiss on the forehead before going back downstairs to meet his daughter (step-daughter? Connor didn’t really know).

“Can I hold her?” Connor asks when he finds Leon and Emilia in the living room.

“What happened to the three month rule?” He raises an amused eyebrow.

Connor had created it after the incident. He didn’t hold a baby that was younger than 3 months.

“I’m feeling brave.”

Leon scooches over so Connor has room to sit comfortably. Leon gently places Emilia in his arms, and gives Connor a pillow to prop his arm on. Emilia’s blinks at him before squirming and stretching her little arms over her head. Connor feels all warm and fuzzy in his chest.

“Hello, Emilia,” he says, with a smile on his face, “I’m your other dad.”

~~~

Connor’s not inherently a jealous person.

Or at least he thought he was. But ever since Emilia came home he’s been feeling it. He loves Emilia, don’t get him wrong. Well, actually, he should backpedal for a second.

Connor is still annoyed at Leon.

He knows he should probably bring this up (because look what happened last time) but he hasn’t because Leon was trying to make things right with you. He obviously was trying with Connor as well, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was an afterthought. Some days were better than others, but everytime Connor thought about how he woke up and couldn’t find Leon in the penthouse he felt like puking.

Emilia eases the pain. He truly does love her like his own. The only time he uses the “she’s your kid” card is when it's 2 am and he’s too tired to get up. But he rarely even does that because Connor’s always been the heaviest sleeper out of the three of you. But other than that, he volunteers for bathtime, plays with her while you’re in the shower, he doesn’t even hate changing diapers that much.The puppies love her too, they’ve transitioned from napping on the dog beds in the living room to the spot on the couch closest to the bassinet to keep an eye on them. He regularly has to stop Lenny from trying to jump in and crush Emilia.

Back to Leon (Connor tends to get side tracked when talking about Emilia). Connor’s still annoyed and he’s been working up to talking about it. But it never seems like a good time. First you were pregnant, and Connor didn’t want to upset either of you. Then it was playoffs and Connor didn’t have any time to think about anything else. Then they got swept and Connor did nothing but eat ice cream for a week like he just had his first heartbreak. And after that…well, he just hates confrontation.

He keeps telling himself that he’ll get around to it, that he just wants to gather his thoughts but he knows he’s stalling at this point. Mostly because -

“So did you do what we talked about last session?” Sophie, his therapist, asks him at the beginning of his appointment.

-his therapist calls him on his bulshit. And he realizes that’s the whole reason he pays her, but it’s still rude.

“About that…” Connor trails off.

She gives him an amused smile, “Connor, you know I don’t like telling you what to do but I strongly suggest you talk to Leon.”

“Sophie, my girlfriend gave birth, we started playoffs and got swept all in the last two weeks,” he says with an exasperated sigh, “I deserve a little time for myself. Isn’t that what you told me last week?”

“I was getting to that,” she says.

Connor almost didn’t show up to his first session. He spent the whole ride over that he his therapist would be a quiet homophobe and who’d sell his story to the presses and ruin his life.

But then he went in and saw the framed photo of Sophie and her wife and their twins. He let out a sigh of relief and felt more comfortable telling her about his life. She didn’t even really watch hockey and she told him that he thought he was a “good player” for his age. Connor always has to stop himself from laughing whenever she tries to compliment his playing style. She’s adorable.

“And what about (Y?N)? Have you thought about what you were going to say to her?”

He knows. He just doesn’t know if you’ll want the same thing.

“I have, a little bit.”

“And would you like to share what you’ve been thinking about?”

“I-uh,” he swallows, “I want another baby?”

“Is that a question?”

“I don’t think so.”

Sophie sends him home with the same homework he had last week: try to slowly figure out what he wants to say when he’s eventually ready to have a talk.

When he comes home, Leon’s standing in the kitchen by Emillia’s bottle warmer. He looks stupid hot holding a baby and Connor’s only mildly annotated about it.

“Hey,” he flashes Connor a bright smile when he notices Connor’s presence, “Can you hold her while I make her a bottle?”

“Sure,” He takes Emilia from Leon before sliding the dimmer down on the light switch. Her eyes slowly open in the dim light and her gumless smile warms Connor’s heart.

“Hello sweet girl,” he coos, watching as she somehow wiggles an arm loose from her blanket, “I love you. I hope you had a good morning.”

He doesn’t expect her to answer, obviously, but she does start to open and close her mouth, indicating she's hungry.

“Leo, you’re too slow,” he taunts playfully, watching as Leon carefully measures out the formula, “she’s starving over here.”

“I can only move so fast,” he laughs.

When Leon finally gets Emilia her bottle Connor relaxes into the dining room chair as she eats her lunch.

“How was therapy?”

Connor told you and Leon that he started going when he came home from his session. Connor didn’t divulge everything that happened in his sessions but it felt nice to have someone ask.

“It was good,” he says, leaning over and resting his head on Leon’s shoulder, “I only cried a little this time.”

Leon chuckles, “Does that mean therapy’s working?”

“Probably.”

~~~

Connor can’t help but laugh when he rewatches the interview of Leon talking about Emilia. He manages to somehow be adorable and sarcastic at the same time. You’re settled against his chest with your ipad resting on your lap and he can feel your giggles as Leon gives his short, glib answers to the journalists' annoying questions.

(Congratulations, she’s very cute.

“I know. She is my daughter after all.”

Your girlfriend’s not going to get mad about that comment?

“She’s gonna get mad if you keep asking questions about her newborn.”)

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen this yet,” Connor says as he runs his fingers through your hair.”

“Neither can I,” you giggle as Leon looks into the camera like he’s on the Office.

Leon rolls his eyes as he emerges from the bathroom, now freshly shaven.

“It’s not that funny,” he says.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Leo,” Connor says, gently hooking his fingers in Leon’s chain to pull him down for a kiss, “You’re very funny.”

“Why did you shave?” you say as Leon turns to give you a kiss, “Your beard looked so good.”

“It was also getting super scratchy,” Connor says.

Leon gets under the covers on Connor’s otherside, “Yeah Emilia’s been distracting me from the beard routine.”

You scoff, “the scratch is the best part, Con.”

“Tell that to the scratch marks on my ass,” Connor says without thinking, and then immediately blushes.

You groan, “Don’t talk about anything remotely sexy when my poor vagina is still healing from pushing out a whole watermelon.”

Leon laughs, “Don’t worry, baby, the beard will be back by the time you get your 6 week all clear.”

~~~

(5 weeks later - after your 6 week all appointment)

“Guess what bitches,” you shout as you enter the kitchen, “I can finally have sex again.”

“Mhm,” Leon hums, feigning disinterest, “And what would you like me to do about that?”

“You’re mean and not funny,” you say lightly hip-checking him, “Besides I have two boyfriends for a reason.”

“Yeah about that,” Connor stretches and yawns, “Emilia kept me up last night so I was gonna take a nap.”

You blink, “I will go to Whyte Av and find some rando to screw in a coat closet, don’t fucking test me.”

Leon grabs your hips and pulls you against his body so your back is flush against his chest before walking forward and pressing your hips into the kitchen counter.

“As if I could pass up the opportunity to fuck this sweet little pussy,” he grinds his hips, pushing your hips further into the counter.

“What have you been cleared for?”

“L-light, non-strenous sex.”

Connor laughs, “Boring, but better than nothing.”

“Davo, take her upstairs,” Leon commands so Connor scoops you up and carries you bridal style to the bedroom.

“Wait wait,” you say when they reach the top, “Where’s Emilia.”

“She’s napping in her crib,” Connor says as he drops you onto the bed, “Leo’s gonna check on her before he comes. So you can turn your brain off for a little bit.”

Connor doesn’t wait to hear your answer, just presses his lips to yours. He fels you moan against him. Connor’s hands slide under your shirt, slowly exposing skin. When he gets it over your head he trails his kisses down your body, unhooking your bra as he does. His kisses move in between your breasts to your belly.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as he kisses your belly button, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

He hooks his fingers on your shorts, pulling them down your legs. He settles himself on the bed as he spreads your legs to press kisses to your inner thigh.

“Perfect,” Connor says, lightly nipping at the sensitive skin.

The tiny hitch of your breath causes all of his blood to rush straight to his dick, but he can’t bring himself to care. He takes his time, warming you up with kisses to your inner thighs, gently scraping his teeth against the skin. He kisses your pussy before running his tongue through your folds. His tongue gently caresses your clit with his tongue. Your hand comes down in his hair when he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your hips start to move against his face, grinding down to give yourself more friction.

“So impatient,” he hums, fucking one finger in you.

“It’s been six whole weeks,” you say, “I haven’t gone six weeks without sex since I was a virgin.”

Connor chuckles, “Easy baby, we’ll get there.”

~~~

Connor can’t help himself when he sees you changing Emilia’s onesie in her nursery. He walks up behind you, wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder.

“Good morning,” he says, planting a kiss on your cheek, “And good morning to the world’s most adorable baby.”

Emilia gurgles but doesn’t retort. Smh, someone needs to teach her how to be humble.

“Morning,” you reply, buttoning up her fresh onesie, “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” he responds with another kiss, “Except when you kicked me in my ribs.”

“I take offense to that,” you raise an eyebrow, “I am an angel in bed. And, yes, pun intended.”

Connor snorts, “We both know that's a lie.”

Both Connor and Leon have been victims of your aggressive sleeping style. One of these days he’s gonna tie all your limbs down, and not in a sexy way. But not in a murderous way either, let’s make that clear. In a Connor-wants-one-singular-night-to-not-get-punched-in-his-sleep way.

Oh god, his brain is rambling. Oh god, he does not want to do this.

“(Y/N),” he says before he can talk himself out of it, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

“About what?” you ask, holding Emilia close as you sit down in the rocking chair.

“I…” Connor has never been this sweaty in his life, “I want another baby.”

“Oh,” you say, indifferent, “Congratulations.”

His brow furrows, “what?”

“On growing a uterus,” you arch an eyebrow, “Because I sure as hell am not using mine again for like 3 years.”

Connor laughs, “I wasn’t saying right away. But, I just want to know if it’s something on the table.”

“I want another baby,” you say, “And as long as you’re willing to wait, I don’t see why it would be an issue.”

~~~

And Connor definitely feels lighter after his talk with you. And he even impresses Sophie by actually doing his homework for once:

“So did you talk to Leon yet?” She asks after he’s finished giving his rundown of his week.

“No,” he says sheepishly, “But I did talk to (Y/N) about having another baby.”

She has the professionalism to not look shocked, but Connor is getting a little better at reading her. Or at least he thinks he is. He still gets anxious whenever she writes things on her notepad, “and how did that go?”

“Honestly, it was better than I expected.”

“How so?”

He shrugs, “I guess I was just expecting the worst?”

“And why is that?”

He shrugs again, “Isn’t that something that you’re supposed to figure out when you psychoanalyze me at the beginning of every session?”

Sophie throws her head back in laughter, “You do know I can’t read your mind right.”

It sure feels like she can sometimes. Which is why he pays her but still, it’s rude. ~~~

Connor thought he was sweaty and anxious before talking to you. However, when it comes time to talk to Leon he also feels nauseous. Like, he might throw up in the kitchen sink again nauseously. But he’s been sitting on this for a few months now - but what if Leon hates him. What if he doesn't want to be with Connor anymore. What if he asks for a trade?

No, Connor’s spiraling. Leon’s a rational person; he's not gonna hate Connor for talking about his feelings, something Leon encourages because Connor tends to bottle things up until he explodes.

But what if-

No. No spiraling, yet.

“Leo,” Leon hums against Connors chest from his spot on the couch next to him, “You still awake?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “But I was thinking about going upstairs soon.”

Connor shuts the TV off, “Um, actually before that can we...talk?”

Leon sits up and stretches, “What about?”

Connor takes a deep breath, “I think - I think I’m mad at you?”

Leon looks a little confused, and Connor can’t say he blames him, “You think you’re mad at me?”

“I-yeah,” he takes another breath, “I know you’ve been trying really hard to reconcile with (Y/N), and that’s great, and I’m definitely not trying to say I take priority over her, but it kind of feels like you’ve put me on the backburner a bit.”

Leon nods, “How so?”

Connor shrugs, “I mean, when you came back and you apologized it was definitely pointed towards her. And it’s the little things, like you always make what (Y/N) wants for dinner and not me. It feels a little bit like there’s a hierarchy here.”

“Do you...feel this way with (Y/N) too?”

“A little bit,” he says, “But mostly with things concerning Emilia, so it’s not as big of an issue.”

Connor realized he feels a bit…scorned, for lack of a better word. Connor was with you first, and that’s not something he feels jealous about but now it’s all coming up. Connor never left you, Connor was the one who held back your hair and wiped your tears when Leon was MIA. Connor was there, Leon left.

...maybe he did need to talk to you some more.

~~~

Connor and Leon spend a long time talking on the couch before they join you in bed. Eventually, Leon puts his head in Connor’s lap as the conversation turns mundane and they just enjoy each other’s presence. It’s been a while since they’ve done that. They end the night with a little make out session that doesn’t lead anywhere more. It was nice.

The next morning Connor’s on baby duty. Not that he minds, it’s always nice to start his day with a smile from Emilia. He changes her diaper and puts a fresh sleeper on her, listening to the little baby noises she makes. When he’s finished he takes her downstairs to the kitchen where you and Leon are making breakfast.

“Good morning, babe,” Leon says when Connor turns the corner, “Do you want strawberries or blueberries on your french toast?”

Leon was making his favourite breakfast. Connor can’t stop the smile from spreading on his face.

“And how’s my favourite girl?” he asks, giving Emilia a little kiss on her forehead.

“A pooping machine,” Connor responds to her, and Emilia laughs at him.

“Did she just-?” you get from your spot on the barstool and run to Connor’s side.

“Her first laugh?” Connor says, “Yeah.”

He tickles her belly in an effort to get her to keep laughing, but she chooses that moment to be a stubborn newborn and frowns instead.

He looks at Leon, “She is absolutely your baby.”

“I smiled when I was a baby!”

“No, Leo he’s got a point,” you say in between funny faces, “your mom said she has one baby photo of you smiling because you would refuse to smile for the camera.”

“I was shy.”

“You’re a robot,” Connor says.

“Like you’re one to talk,” you scoff.

~~~

“Connor please,” you pant, “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

Connor holds back a laugh, watching the sweat drip down your face, “I thought this is what you wanted?”

“Leo!,” you yell, catching his attention from across the room, “Tell Connor he’s being an ass.”

Leon does not hold back his laugh, “He’s got a point.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting bullied right now.”

Connor wraps his arms around you and pulls you close into his body, “It’s just some squats, baby, it’s not the end of the world.”

“It is when you keep adding weight!”

“Because you’re stronger.”

You just stare at him and, honestly, Connor feels a little scared.

“Tell you what,” he leans down so he can whisper in your ear, “If you make it through your sets, without complaining, Leo and I will take turns eating you out tears run down your pretty little face.”

“Promise?” you hold out your pinky.

Emilia’s being babysat by her grandparents so Connor feels no qualms when he links his pinky with yours, “Promise.”

“Promise what?” Leon pipes up from his place on the leg press.

“Connor offered up your body in exchange for squats,” you say, shouldering the bar once more.

“And what did Connor say I would do?”

“You’ll find out,” Connor says, waving a hand at Leon nonchalantly.

“I don’t even get to know how I’m being used as a bargaining chip?”

“Nope,” Connor says with a smile, popping the ‘p’.

~~~

Leon learns what the exact terms and conditions are of the agreement about an hour later. And, just like Connor expected, he does not complain.

He even has the audacity to wink at Connor as he’s tongue-deep in pussy. Ugh, he forgot what the butterflies in his stomach felt like when he’s not constantly annoyed with Leon. He can’t help himself, he gets up from where he was giving his jaw a break, and slides his fingers over Leon’s hole. Leon tenses up ever so slightly, he breaks the momentum he had on you, evident by how hard your ankles are digging into Leon’s shoulders.

“Don’t stop,” Connor grunts, slipping one digit past the rim, “You don’t cum until she does.”

He slides his finger all the way before uncapping the lube and lathering his fingers up and adding a second. Connor knows when he hits Leon’s prostate when He lets out a low groan into your cunt.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you whine, writhing against the sheets.

Leon pushes back on Connor’s fingers at the same time your hips start to grind down feverishly on Leon’s face.

“Make her cum, Leo,” Connor says, removing his fingers from Leon’s ass and teasing his hole once more.

Leon’s focus changes completely. His fingers dig into your hipbones, pulling you closer to him so he has a better angle. Your chest is rising and falling quickly, heaving off the bed when Leon finally sucks your clit. You cum with a shout, tumbling over the edge, pussy clenching around Leon’s tongue.

Connor wastes no time, grabbing Leon’s hips to steady him before spreading Leon's cheeks and swiping his tongue in long, broad strokes. Connor’s not the biggest fan of rimming, but Leon loves it. Leon groans as Connor teases him, starts to rut against the bed when Connor’s tongue dips into his hole, loses it when Connor starts to fuck him open with his tongue. He reaches over to jack Leon off, pumping him as he continues to take him apart. Leon goes limp beneath him, reduced to nothing but moans. Connor speeds up his ministries, revealing in the way Connor’s name falls weakly from Leon’s mouth. Leon bucks hard against the bed, cums with a shudder. Connor takes his hand off Leon's cock, and places it on his own but doesn’t quite relent on his tongue, working Leon through the aftershocks' pleasure. It doesn’t take very long for Connor to cum, finally letting up on Leon and effectively ruining his boxers.

“Aw Leo,” Connor says once he can catch his breath, “We have to watch the duvet cover now.”

~~~

“Where is my baby?” Connor teases playfully when you walk through the door, baby carrier in hand.

“Calm your tits,” you say, placing the carrier on the kitchen counter and allowing Connor to take her out, “She’s home, and just woke up from a nap.”

“I wish I took a nap today,” Connor says as he rocks Emilia in his arms. She gives Connor a toothless smile and Connor just wants to smoosh her.

“Has anyone ever told you, you look really good holding a baby?” Leon says, giving Connor a quick peck on the cheek.

“Good enough to have another baby?” Connor asks.

You roll your eyes, “Two years, Con.”

“I’m just teasing.”

And, yeah, Connor finally starts to feel like he’s home again.

#poly fic #connor mcdavid #leon draisaitl #ran writes #connor mcdavid imagine #leon draisaitl imagine #nhl smut #nhl oneshot #connor mcdavid smut #leon draisaitl smut

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clarawatson · 3 years ago

Text

It Only Takes a Taste

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x [Fem]!Reader (GN pronouns, fem coded stuff, but I’m not sure where this is going as a larger work so we’ll say Fem!reader to be safe) Summary: You work at a diner. Aaron Hotchner falls in love with you. We’re not kidding around trying to make us all sound like profilers, just accept the diner life, we love it here. W/C: 1498 Warnings: none yet! A/N: First chapter of that diner!au i was talking about here! AO3 ps. I forgot to tag people, so: @willowrose99 & @genevievedarcygranger my beloveds. If you want to get added to the tag list jump in my inbox and i’ll try to remember to add tags every time i post. Where am I in this series? 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

When you first meet him it’s 5am and raining. You’re switching over shifts for your friend, Rita, because she’s been doing night shifts at the diner. This late into her pregnancy she shouldn’t be working, not technically, but she needs the money and she’s got insomnia because of the baby, so she works nights now. There’s always someone working with her, be it Joe (who’s got far too much muscle for a chef) or Lola (who can beat anyone to a pulp with a pie tray). In the early hours of the morning a bunch of tatt’ed bikies come and sit and talk about their extracurricular activities (definitely not legal) because one time there was an armed hold up and the police didn’t turn up until two hours after it had happened. People don’t like holding up a diner full of men who eat their own motorbikes for breakfast.

But when he comes in, he’s not any of them. He’s not even one of Lola’s nightly hook-ups (she needs the money, you don’t ask). He’s too well dressed in a grey suit (or is it black? Maybe it’s black), trying desperately to shove his I.D. badge in his pocket. He has a look about him that says ‘I’m part of one of the alphabet soup agencies’. A smile on his face, dead in the eyes, and the weight of the world on his shoulders. He fumbles with his wallet as he squints to read the menu behind the counter. The rain’s stopped dripping from his hair, instead he’s got droplets like his woken with the morning dew upon him.

“Hi love,” Rita coos as she hangs her apron up. She has a look about her that says she’ll eat this man for her breakfast. It’s an effort not to curse those pregnancy hormones some days.

“Go home,” you tell her, swatting her arm. “Put your feet up, rest, sleep while the baby does or some shit.” Rita sticks her bottom lip out and pouts, but she’s making grabby hands for her purse, which is stored where the tea towels used to be. Far too high to reach even when one’s not pregnant. You grab it down for her, ignoring the showering of thank-yous.

The new guy (who is getting more and more handsome by the second) is still looking at the menu. He doesn’t look like he’s going to stop looking and order any time soon.

“Are you sure you’re fine to take the metro in this weather?” you check. She’s rubbing her swollen belly and looking longingly at the booths that haven’t had anyone sit in them for hours now.

“Wait forty-five minutes and I’ll take you!” Joe yells. He’s slaving over something in the kitchen even though it looks like no one’s ordered in hours. “Wife gave me the car ‘cause of the storm!”

“Forty-five,” you repeat and point her towards the seat that she’s been eyeing off. Rita sighs, nods, then goes out to the seat. “What can I get you?” Usually when addressing the customer you’d add something gentle like ‘sweetheart’ or ‘love’ or ‘dear’ because the customers like it and they come back because they think you’re treating them like a long lost friend.

He bats his dark eyelashes and rubs at his forehead.

“I don’t know.” He sounds tired, balancing on the very edge of exhaustion. He might just fall off into a pit of sleep that he won’t wake up from. Been there, done that. “Do you guys do coffee?”

You laugh and point to the brewed pot beside you. There’s one for each table, free refills with a pie purchase. It’s written in decorative lettering right above you on the blackboard.

“We can put it in a take-away cup. It’s before six so it’s free anyway,” you offer. The last bits a lie, but Joe doesn’t care about a cup or two of coffee going missing. He’ll catch it up later when he flirts with all of the mom’s coming through after school drop off. The new guy nods and pulls out a ten dollar note and shoves it in the tip jar. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he nods anyway. He’s like a broken bobblehead.

“I know.” He goes to the sweets display and searches through it like he’s looking for something specific. Maybe he is. You’ve not seen him in the diner before, and neither has Rita, but maybe he’s one of Lola’s regulars. Maybe you’d judged him wrong.

“Anything caught your eye?” you ask, leaning over the counter as if you could see it from his angle too. Maybe you do it to show off just that little bit of cleavage. He notices, then looks like he’s done entirely the wrong thing as he licks his lips and blinks like a school boy.

“S-sorry,” he stammers, and Rita giggles. You point at her and give her a stern look, but she just puts her hand over her mouth and lies down on the seat. She’s still silently giggling because her belly keeps bobbing above the table.

“I just…” he has that exhausted look on his face again.

“Long day at work?” The answer is always yes for the people who work at the alphabet agencies. He nods. “Take a seat, grab some coffee, take a minute. It’s only just gone five, you’ve got time.”

He nods. He looks like he’s gotten his words all mixed up and they’re just sitting in his mouth, refusing to leave. Tongue tied doesn’t exactly encapsulate what looks like is going on inside his head. He sits at one of the chairs in front on the counter, and takes the coffee cup gratefully as you pass it to him.

He’s definitely an alphabet soup man. He sits in this weird stance like he’s countering his weight against a gun. His shoulders are hunched forward as if he spends hours a day doing paperwork. He’s got a nervous twitch in his hands like sitting still is only going to bring the next case.

You think about making a joke about turning on the cellphone jammer, but last time Joe made that joke the whole place ended up swarming with cops. Absolute disaster. No one’s going to do that one again.

“Cherry, berry or apple?” you ask, grabbing a plate.

“Sorry?”

“Cherry, berry or apple?” Rita repeats from her booth. “For the pie, sweetheart.”

“Uh, I didn’t—“

“Eat it,” Rita growled. You pull a face at her even though she can’t see you. The guy smiles.

“Apple, please.” Well mannered. Sweet. He looks elated as you slide the apple pie to him and hand him the canned cream.

“Not as good as fresh, but it’s better than nothing.”

He puts a generous amount on his plate. You half think he might like it more than proper cream. Rita leans up just enough to look at him as he digs in, fanning herself playfully before sighing and collapsing back down.

Joe brings out his tray of caramel salted cookies. They’re thick enough to look like cakes with a gooey caramel center, and they usually sell out pretty quickly. The new guy watches them intently.

“How much trouble am I going to get into if I give those to my son?”

“How old is he?”

“Ten.”

You smile. That’s a good age. “How much do you hate his teacher?”

He considers this with a gentle tilt of his head. “Not a lot. I’ll give it to him after school.” He pulls out his wallet again and Joe looks like he’s just hit the mother lode as he grabs one of the cardboard boxes.

“If you really want to spoil your kid, y/n here can write really pretty on top.” You glare at Joe. He shrugs. He’s covered in cake batter and cookie dough, and smells like pancake batter. He’s always smelling sickly sweet, and like a well lived in home, despite looking like the living embodiment of Gaston. “She does it for my wife all the time.”

The handsome man’s phone buzzes. He checks it, then shovels the rest of his pie in his mouth like a starved man.

“I have to go,” he says. He gives Joe another ten and tells him to keep the change. Joe looks like he’s about to break into a song and dance. You pour a fresh cup of coffee into a take-away cup and slide it across the counter to him. He thanks you a thousand times over then goes. With his cookie.

“Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Rita screeches the moment the door shut with it’s little jingle. “I’ll-show-him-my-cleavage-but-I-won’t-ask-his-name?? No wonder you can’t get a date!”

“I’ll do it next time.” Not that there’s ever a ‘next time’ for these alphabet soup agents. They’re always looking for the next place to go to so they don’t have a ‘regular place’ that can be ambushed.

But in a perfect world... you’d see him every day.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female!reader #Diner!AU #It Only Takes a Taste

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jimlingss · 4 years ago

Note

It's B from @bang-tan-bitches and I would like to request a yandere fic. It can be BTS OT7 x reader or BTS member of your choice x reader. Similar to your amazing isekai story i would like something similar(a long one shot or a multi-chapter, your choice). Whether YN transmigrates to a game or a novel (not as a villain but maybe as a cannon fodder side character that has little importance to the story and just wants to lay low) but YN captures the attention of the love interest(s) and shit starts getting weird, intense, uncomfortable. Maybe it causes the supposed female lead to turn into the villain, maybe it causes the love interest(s) to turn into the villain(s). Maybe YN realizes that something is wrong with the story/game but can't figure it out. Idk. Time period doesn't matter. Modern. Ancient. Fairytale. Fantasy. Whatever.

If you can do this great! If you can't or don't want to, that's okay too. You're an amazing writer with so much talent and I'm really appreciative of all your work. Thank you for taking requests from your fans, I'm sure you've received a lot.

Take care! 😘💜💜💜

at the start of the pandemic, I was getting back into manga and manhwa and then after a few months, I dawdled off but recently, I’ve been getting back into it again haha so this request came at a pretty good time. Hopefully you won’t mind that I’ve taken some creative liberties with this request lol I think it’s more fun if I keep readers on their toes, including the requester.

On another note, I really shouldn’t be writing all my isekai’s with Taehyung as the main lead but he’s just so fitting asdfghjkl

↳ The Fox Bride

2.6k || 99% Light Fluff, 1% Angst || Kim Taehyung || Isekai!AU, Slight Yandere!AU, Nine-Tailed Fox!Taehyung

You are a tutorial character.

But you weren’t always. You still remember being a career woman in the twenty-first century, struggling with overtime and paying bills while trying to keep yourself fed. The success of that ranged from month to month. But more importantly, you still remember that night too.

It was rainy. Your car blew a flat tire. You pulled to the side of the highway and got out.

The last thing that registered was the deafening honk of the semi-truck.

Then you felt yourself flying upwards.

But when you landed, instead of colliding with the concrete and dying upon impact, you fell back onto your ass in the middle of a market on a dirt road. Transported back a thousand years ago.

Your purpose was fulfilled in the next two minutes.

“Are you alright?”

The male protagonist had stretched out his hand and helped you up. The hero. The main character. It was obvious with his bright red hair, shining eyes and bronze armour. He was so starkly different from the rest who were gray and drab, including you who was suddenly in a brown shapeless dress. He was practically a neon billboard in the middle of a graveyard.

“Are you Y/N?”

You looked at him, befuddled that he knew your name. But before you could even respond or provide a line of dialogue, he said, “This is a delivery from Baker Jeon. He gives you his thanks.”

The protagonists handed you a loaf of bread. Undoubtedly his first ever quest.

You looked down, not sure what to do with it.

“Do you know where the blacksmith is?”

You had absolutely no clue. But there was the deafening noise of hammering steel literally ten steps away. You would have to be blind not to see the gruff man shaping a sword at an anvil right on the road and deaf not to hear it. As if that wasn’t enough, the literal sign of the shop read: ‘the blacksmith’.

So you pointed.

“Thanks.” And he trudged off.

You were utterly confused until a background character who said they knew you waved you over. You shared your bread with her, brushed aside when she asked you what was wrong, and you followed her as she walked up to your supposed cottage.

All the while, you saw yourself in the background of the hero’s main quest as he ran through the town.

And that was that.

It wasn’t so hard to figure out where you were or what the hell this was when you put your mind to it. Without much of a job or a family, and no technology but the candle that you had to conserve when night fell, there was ample time.

So you spent it thinking and you eventually solved the mystery.

You were in Beast Boys Harem: A Forbidden Embrace. AKA. a dumb yaoi otome game app that you downloaded on your phone when you were sixteen and bored. You remember because you were too cheap to buy the routes, so you played the tutorial, prologue and read the summaries of the routes online. Now you regret that you didn’t just fork over the goddamn five dollars.

Even more than that, you regret that you even downloaded the game in the first place.

But at least you’re just a tutorial character. You’re free from the storyline and the plot—

That’s what you thought.

Turns out living a thousand years in the past in a fantasy realm as a woman didn’t bode well. It was probably no different from how it would’ve been like in the medieval ages. You had no trade skills. No one was willing to accept you as an apprentice when you were a woman. You found that you were essentially illiterate with a reading level of a preschooler, no one was willing to teach you, and you had no power or wealth when you were without a father or a husband.

And you’re certain what the landlord and tax-collectors are doing is illegal.

But in this world, in this unjust realm, there is no such thing as the law.

“We know you’re in there!”

You jolt from the heavy pounding on the frail wooden door.

“It’s time to pay up!”

Your hands tremble as you set the candle down that’s still billowing of smoke, the flame smothered out mere seconds ago. As much as you want to hide and pull the blanket over your head, you know that door won’t last. They’ll find you if you’re trapped in here.

“If you can’t, spread those legs of yours!” a low voice spits and there’s chortling from the men.

Someone adds, “Sell your body already!”

“Open up! Damn whore!”

Without a single possession but the white nightgown clad on your body, you open the latch of the back window. You cringe at the squeak, trying to keep your movements quiet before the door gives way.

You hoist yourself up onto the window ledge. The door bends with the strength of multiple clenched fists against it. Your feet touch the soft grass outside your cottage. The men shout.

And the door finally slams against the wall, hinges broken.

But by then, you’ve slipped into the shadows.

“Where is she?!”

The blanket is ripped off the bed, curtains are whipped back, every drawer dumped onto the ground and cupboards yanked open. The floor shakes with the weight of their boots and you press your palm to your mouth to silence your panting breaths, slowly stepping away.

“That damn whore slipped through us—!”

But as your shitty luck would have it, a sudden crack has the whole world coming to a standstill.

Shit. You look down at your feet, realizing that the snapping noise came from you stepping on a twig. And it’s exposed your hiding place.

“There she is!” — “Out the back window!”

You grab fistfuls of your dress and bolt.

“Get her!”

With your cottage on the edge of town, there’s nowhere to run but through the dense woods. It’s shrouded in the darkness, no doubt filled with wild beasts creeping through the thicket. The rustling canopy of the trees doesn’t allow the dim, waning moonlight to illuminate your path.

So you’re left blind. Struggling up the high incline of the forest, feet slipping on dirt and mud. But you keep sprinting with all your might, even when the pointed, coiling branches scrape at your calves until blood sheds and the hem of your dress tears in the underbrush.

“Run, little rabbit!” one of them mocks, “Run!”

The four men continue to give chase, gripping onto their roaring torches, shrieking and howling after you. One of them is manically laughing as if your efforts to flee only adds to the thrill. Their greased hands reach out to snatch you, but the tips of their fingers graze the ends of your hair.

Your teeth are sunk into the bottom of your lip, sobs breaking through your aching chest. Your lungs burn, dying for a break or moment of relief. But you don’t relent and luckily, you manage to build distance between you and the men. Only, that luck comes crashing down by a fucking hole.

A hole in the forest floor that you don’t see. That has your footing all wrong. That makes you scream and fall.

You twist your ankle in a direction it’s definitely not supposed to be in and cry from pain.

A second later, you force yourself to get up and keep running with tears flooding your eyes and dripping down your cheeks. But it’s more like limping than running, akin to hobbling on one leg and every movement has pain shooting from your swelling ankle.

The effort becomes futile. They surround you within minutes.

“All finished?” The tax-collector’s head cocks with a spreading grin. “You’re not going to keep running?”

Why couldn’t you just fucking die the first time?! Even if it was an awful death where you didn’t have time to prepare yourself or say goodbye to anyone, at least it would’ve been the end. At least you wouldn’t have to suffer.

But there’s no time to grieve. Or hate the new life you’ve been given. This is it. You have to keep going. You have to survive. By any means. You’re about to pick up a branch and uselessly wave it around at them, shout at them to stand back. Anything that you could do to save yourself—

“Who dares come onto my mountain?!”

There’s a deep timbre behind you. A husky voice that quivers the very core of the forest.

As if the wind has swept through, the trees and thicket rustle and it goes silent.

The men fall back onto their asses, some torches clattering to the ground. Their eyes have grown double in size, nearly falling from their sockets and their jaws have dropped to the dirt.

“I-It’s the nine-tailed fox!”

The man scrambles back.

“Demon!”

Another barely manages to get onto his feet. He turns around and lurches away while shrieking.

They all run. Scattering away as frantically as cockroaches when the light is flickered on.

From your spot on the ground, you turn around with wide eyes.

Amber irises meet your gawking and they practically glow in the darkness of the forest. He is dressed in a loose, white robe that’s draped over his frame, open to the middle of his chest. And over his honey hair, on the top of his head, his pointed golden ears twitch. By the torch fire still yet to die out, he is illuminated and his shadow is casted on the ground. The blazing flame warms his cold, sharp features.

He is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. In both worlds you’ve lived in.

And you know who he is.

Taehyung. One of the love interests of the hero. A seductive, sly creature that eventually coaxes the hero into selling him his soul to grant one of his wishes. But Taehyung grows to become an obsessed character that wants to do nothing but monopolize and possess the hero for himself.

That same Taehyung approaches you with his lip curled as you teeter to your feet.

“Run away, girl.” He leans close. “Before I eat you.”

“Stop!”

On sheer instinct and adrenaline, you push him back. Your palm shoves against his firm chest.

Taehyung stumbles back with his eyes becoming rounded. He looks down to where you had made contact against his body. “Did...you just touch me?”

“What?”

Taehyung’s head darts upwards and he captures your wrist in his hand, squeezing tightly. He tugs you in and on your swollen ankle, you stumble into him. Bodies flush against one another. Your face pressed to his warm chest. His arm coming around your waist to break your fall.

He is aghast.

“You’re not from this world.” Taehyung’s yellow eyes swirl as they gaze into you. “Where did you come from?”

…

It’s been three days.

“Wed me,” he begs for the seventy sixth time.

You don’t know why you’re keeping a count.

“No.”

You’re hugging your knees for warmth. The rice paper-paneled doors are slid open and letting in the chilly air. He doesn’t seem to be affected by the cold, but you don’t look at him for long.

You turn into the corner of his home while sitting on the tatami floors as if you’re putting yourself into time out. But you’d like to say it’s your privacy corner. It’s as private as this abode, which was basically one room, could get.

Taehyung sighs in frustration, placing his hand on his forehead. His teeth grit. “You’re only making this harder for yourself.” Your silence angers him more. “You can never leave.”

You turn over your shoulder to glare. “Even if I married you, you’d never let me leave anyway.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes on you and then smirks. “You’re right. Wed or unwed, I won’t let you out of my sight. You should feel grateful, girl. You’re the best human I’ve ever treated.”

You quietly scoff.

Maybe you should feel scared. Maybe you should tread more lightly. After all, he’s not a character to be trifled with.

But you know he needs you. That alone gives you power.

As a beast, Taehyung’s been trapped on this mountain by priests for centuries. The only way he can be free is by feeding off of sexual energy and breaking the barrier. But of course, they also cursed him to be unable to touch any woman in this universe.

You aren’t from this universe.

You jolt when you realize that while you were lost in thought, Taehyung’s crawled closer. He has a foxy smile, amber eyes searching your expression. “Maybe….maybe I’ll grant you a bit of freedom if you would just give into the temptation and let me have a taste of you.”

As cold as he looks, he is beautiful. He is mischievous when he smirks and sly when he speaks. You are utterly spellbound as you look into his irises. And the temptation he speaks of flickers in the warmth of your belly.

But you turn away.

“I already said we only do that kind of thing after marriage. And I will only marry someone I love.”

Taehyung draws back with an unamused scoff. “What a prudish world you’re from.”

He wanted you the moment you were brought to this house. With the intensity of his stare and your captivated state, you had let him pin you to his floor and you liked it. But then clarity came and you blurted that such an act only happens after marriage. A lie just to buy time.

You didn’t expect for the hero to arrive at Taehyung’s house the next day. With his red hair and bronze armour, he had gotten lost in the forest and knocked on the door. Before you could limp over and answer it, Taehyung jumped off the roof and confronted him.

The guy was thrown off the mountain within five minutes.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to have a steamy rendezvous. Taehyung was supposed to get the sexual energy from him!

The story was going off the rails. And you’re not sure what you’re even buying time for anymore.

The both of you know it’s only a matter of time before you break and succumb to his mesmerizing seduction.

Taehyung is cruel, ruthless, obsessive.

But what’s the most bewitching thing about him is the jarring contrast of when he’s clumsy and nurturing. It’s what he regards as his own weakness. What he hides from others. But you felt your heart waver two nights ago when you were shaken awake in the middle of twilight. When you peeked open your eye to see him gingerly wrapping your swollen ankle with bandages.

He looked beautiful in the pale moonlight, ears, tails, sharp features softened—

“Ow!” You wince as he squeezes your ankle, right on your injury.

“You think too much in your head,” he says and looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts.”

A sadistic smile tugs on Taehyung’s lips. He lets go, but only to lift your chin with his fingers. His plush lips are inches away, his breath warm on your skin and he gazes deep into you. “I won’t let you return to your world. I won’t let you run away. I won’t let anyone harm you.”

“You’re mine now.” Taehyung swears, “You’ll fall in love with me eventually.”

You gulp and he smirks.

The two of you know it’s only a matter of time.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #taehyung reader insert #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfiction #LET'S GOOOO

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queernuck · 4 years ago

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The Cleveland Browns made the playoffs. The Islanders made the Eastern Conference Finals.

And that’s enough for me.

So long, so long I have been living like this, pretending that I want to keep on living, that life feels worthwhile, that I don’t want to kill myself. Suicide is for cowards but ive been chickening out for a whole decade, to the point where getting on the subway was itself something that involved convincing myself not to jump in front of it. I remember once while working in the city, I watched and waited as two trains came in and left, trying to get the energy to jump in front of them. I had decided, if I couldn’t do it by the time a second train came and went, I would go to work and save it for another day. I came very close, my legs tense like a linebacker on 4th & Goal, but I didn’t do it. Maybe it would be better if I had, I would have saved not only myself but a lot of other people a lot of pain and suffering. I’ve been dealing with feeling suicidal for a decade, an entire ten years, and made it through. And for what? I lost a retail job at minimum wage, I’ve seen the Giants go from two-time Super Bowl kingslayers to a team that relied on the Eagles for a playoff berth, I got to see Evangelion only for the final Rebuild film to be infinitely delayed, I have a useless non-degree that allows me to eloquently describe how the Democrats and Republicans alike are driving this stolen land to Fascism while sycophants tell me Vote Blue No Matter Who. I’m so tired, I’m not even the person people think me to be, since if I were, I wouldn’t be in this mess.

My paychecks, as hard-earned as they were, never seemed to be mine in any real sense, and it made me so frustrated that something in me broke at the beginning of this year. I made some mistakes, some very stupid ones, and got myself fired. I took money from and distorted the inventory of my store to get what amounted to pocket money, less than two paychecks. I was tempted because I feel so powerless, so much like nothing I could ever say or do matters, and so I decided to lash out against a place that mattered to me, against people I cared about deeply. Chain stores, corporations, all of those things are not really high on my list of things to care about. Barnes & Noble pushed out local booksellers years ago, an irony not lost on me whenever our own competition with Amazon was made apparent. We were reaping what we had sown. But what always interested on top of this irony was how symbolic these things could be to people, how much we figured into so may memories for so many. The Manga Aisle at Barnes & Noble is a staple of 2006 scene culture, a way that kids without the pocket money to afford the newest volume of Bleach it Naruto could keep up before scams became widely available. How the store was a place where people studying for standardized tests could use the test prep guides to try and get ready for the eugenic ritual of the standardized test. And just how much a chain bookstore became a substitute, socially, for the now-absent local bookstore. We bear the guilt for that, but at the same time we were still selling books, giving people a place to get coffee and sit and read and talk, in ways that libraries may not be able to. We certainly can never replace a library, given just what a library does for people. But we did do a lot of good all the same. Before it closed, some of my fondest memories came when I was the exact sort of annoying teenage customer I grew to hate, hanging out at the Columbus Circle Borders. Working at Barnes & Noble was tiring, dehumanizing, difficult, made me feel like I would never measure up to the authors we sold, the people books were written about, that I was a failure. And I am, as my death shows. But it also made me a part of something I was proud of. And that Above & Beyond pin I earned is in my jacket still, a reminder of something.

That something was shown in so many of the coworkers I had, who were incredible in so many ways. I feel awful for what I did, I genuinely do, because of how it may have hurt people who thought so kindly of me, people who deserve so much good. I wish I had the ability to address each of them individually but this decision was hastily made, and i have a feeling it will show in the things I miss in this note. Audra, your help in finding me a way to use the company policies to my advantage as a worker was something that gave me faith even after having seen the despicable firings and cuts the company went through. Linda, I can’t quite square the circle here given my actions, but I want to say your disappointment broke my heart and that while I will not be the one who shows it, your reassurance that everyone makes mistakes was welcome.

To my (former) fellow booksellers at Store 2216, all of my love and my sincerest apologies. You all have so much good in you, your willingness to listen to my ADHD-fueled rants and to discuss so many things with an incredible frankness was always impressive, in addition to part of what I loved about all of you. I want you all to be happy, and the kinship I felt with you was a vital part of what kept me going. It was tough, as you all know. But at times, it almost felt worth it.

The same is true of my CTY friends: it was a weird, magical place that frankly, a lot of us idealized for far too long and which sk many of us eventually outgrew without being able to let go of. And that was tough, that was something we had a great deal of difficulty understanding, that what helped us once was not always going to be helping us, was not always what we needed. But in eventually finding that, we found solace, we realized how life as a whole functions and just what it is that we can take from places like it.

To my other family, my Cleo family, I know I haven’t been terribly active lately, but I can never, ever thank you enough for the belonging you gave me. I have never felt anywhere as welcoming as Cleo. As warm as Cleo (even as we struggled to pay for the oil bill) was. As kind and understanding. As tolerant. As questioning and inquisitive into what that tolerance meant to us. I am thankful, eternally, for what you all did for me. The incredible experiences I had as a Cleo make me proud of what the organization can represent, and one of my dying wishes is that the organization continues to reach out to marginalized communities on Trinity’s campus. There is much work to be done in making sure abusers cannot hide in our family, but I trust you all to do that work. Tucker Carlson is a Trinity grad and we must embody the opposite of what he stands for, no matter how difficult it may be. I could go on about how this means opposing liberals and Liberalism/Neo—Liberalism due to the truth of tolerance resulting in a Popper-esque Paradox of Tolerance that implies Popper is a worthwhile philosopher, but that’s another issue.

To my friends on that Blue Hellsite, tumblr, you made a continual presence worth it, even with all of the bullshit this place brings. It’s the reason I read so much Foucault, Derrida, Deleuze & Guattari, read Žižek against himself, and so on and so on, and the value of that to me can never be overstated. I learned so much from the ways in which I learned to analyze the world, and that in turn became a huge inspiration for why I should try to do what I could to make the world closer to a place of revolution, one where we could perhaps eke out a living for one another. I loved how much I could be an unrepentant nerd and still love hockey on there, and while the

NHL fans on tumblr are incredibly annoying,

I can deal with that compared to the racism of most hockey fans.

Mom, Dad? I just couldn’t live with you any longer. I’m so sorry.

Grandma, I love you.

And the things I leave behind? Donate what can be donated. Hats, please auction, or at least offer to other HatHeads at a reasonable price. I had some nice ones. As for assorted albums, clothing, and other things, sell them and donate to a Harm Reduction organization, or organizations that advocate for PWUD in a radical fashion. WE DESERVE AUTONOMY!

I am a victim of the War on Drugs. Sobriety was always hellish to me, and I could never take it. I want people to be able to live how they want, to see sobriety and being on drugs as equally valuable states, to see the two as no different from one another.

Abolish all gun laws

End the War on Terror

Decriminalize and legalize all drugs, sobriety is what killed me.

I love all of you.

LET’S GO ISLANDERS!

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daphinteresting · 3 years ago

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Blog Officially Closed. :(

Hi, DaphInteresting here.

I have come on here to announce that I have decided to close my tumblr art blog here indefinitely. :(

From this post onward, I will not be posting any more art or any posts on this blog. I have a few reasons of why I’ve decided to make this decision and if you’re interested to know them, please read onward from here.

Firstly, with being a self-employed worker, I’m very busy on a daily basis and the most difficult thing I find about sharing my artwork online is having to run so many SNS accounts like I do. So, to reduce my stress level and to keep myself from facing a complete burn-out (which can be a very nasty thing to occur, I would know already) I feel like I have to limit the amount of accounts I am running here. Unfortunately, within having this account on hiatus, I thought over it and saw that tumblr would be the one I would have to let go. I have had a tumblr account since 2011. A very long time. I remember it just like it was yesterday when I first opened this blog. This very blog holds a special place in my heart since it is one I have had up for such a long time. I had good times here and so very much appreciate the support I got on my art that I had posted here. This blog will always and forever be cherished in my heart, even with me having to close it now.

Secondly, tumblr was once a good blogging site in it’s time but as you all should know it’s faced some problems in it’s time as well. These problems still go on to this very day. The porn blogs... This has been a ever-growing problem with tumblr. At one point, tumblr said they were going to fix the problem by getting rid of these type of accounts but yet to have done so. If anything I see more porn blogs following me and interacting on my posts than ever before, even sending me weird, inappropriate videos, and messages often. It’s horrible, and I’ve pretty much grown tired of it at this point. It seems tumblr isn’t going to fix this problem since this has been going on for a while now, or maybe they can’t since there is just so many of these accounts that they are unable to get rid of all of them. Either way, enough is enough. Tumblr has no doubt gone downhill because of this problem

Many users had already left because of this, making the site feel a bit empty, overall. I won’t fully leave tumblr as I still have two non-art blogs that I use here from time to time, just to blog on as I enjoy blogging. It's rather a therapeutic thing to do for me. But still, I will not make it a priority of posting my artwork on this site anymore. Out of all my blogs I have, this one gets followed by porn blogs the most. It’s super unfortunate since this is my second most popular blog that I own. I worked hard on it to get the many amount of followers that I have. It really sucks at knowing that some of those followers are probably spam and porn accounts. But whatever.

Thirdly and lastly, I’ve noticed something which is also a huge problem with using social media to promote your artwork on in general is there is so many art thieves out there. It’s just getting worst by the day where there are ones who come to steal my artwork and repost it without my permission. No credit given either. They even come to sell my art without my permission and make a profit out of it. Terrible. Terrible. Terrible. I had already recognized that this would be the danger you’d have to face when posting up your artwork through social media. That it’s likely to get stolen but it just so darn sad and pathetic that we live in a world with people who won’t do the right thing. All I want to do when I post MY artwork is show it to people who will respect it and appreciate it, not come to take fame and fortune from it. I work too hard on all of my illustrations and 'I' myself like to get recognized for it. ME. I could go on a long lecture about this but this obviously isn’t the place and time for it. Bottom line, I think the more I reduce the social media accounts I post up my artwork at, the less it can become stolen where it gets into so many people’s hands to do whatever they want with it. These thieves are desperate too as they will come to even take your art with even watermarks being all over it. As I said, it’s very sad and pathetic. But it’s also a sad reality that we have to live with too. Stealing is clearly a problem even outside the internet, where people often get robbed these days wherever they are at at any time of day. Totally and utterly out of control in general.

So yeah, there you go. My reasons for closing down my beloved DaphInteresting art blog here. I like to think the reasons I gave here are understanding. To be honest, I feel like tumblr won’t be the only social media account I close down either. In the future, there will likely be more until the point I’m probably only using one or two social medias to promote my artwork at. I see it as being the less the better. Just have to narrow down my options. :P

Overall, with the ‘toxicity’ put to the side, of course, I still like to thank all the genuine supporters of my work here as tumblr isn’t clearly just filled with porn blogs and porn users. You ones are very cherished by me and I appreciate you all so very much. If you are a genuine follower of my work here and would like to keep updated on it, you can follow me on the social medias that I run with my art at now. This is currently the only social medias I’m posting up my artwork at until another announcement is made that I come to close another one again. Look through the ‘keep reading’ below to access them. Furthermore, if you want you can even follow me on them. I have put all my art and posts here on private so only this post will come to show when you visit this account. I decided to not leave up any of my art and posts because really there would be no point to do so and plus it could help to reduce the stealing of my art while at it.

Again, thank you to all the supporters! Out of 430 followers, if you are not a porn or bot blog out of that and came to follow me because you genuinely liked my artwork and wanted to keep up with it, again you are very appreciated. I would love to have your continued support on my other accounts if you’re interested to continue to see and follow me throughout my art journey. ❤

With that said, I bid farewell to this long-lived account. 😢

Ko-Fi Page

Cara Page

Linktree

#blog closing #my art #daphinteresting

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kyotakumrau · 4 years ago

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2021.04.06 a talk event at Meguro Rock-May-Kan film screening at Namba Hatch with Kyo and Shinya - PART 1 Report by とあ on twitter (topics are not reported in order things happened, I mostly followed the order they posted, 1st and 2nd session bits are mixed together) my comments go in (*…)

Shinya entered the stage in black hoodie, both hands in his pockets. He also had hands in the pockets when he left the stage. Came with a drink.

Kyo came on stage with his arms crossed. He drank some water soon after sitting down, I thought he started to play with the flyer but he made an airplane from it. Q “To Die. Please tell us the secret of your youth.” Kyo and Shinya face each other and laugh. Kyo: Is it okay to imagine what Die is doing? I said that I quit McDonalds, right? Die also said he hasn’t had McD in years. Fujieda: He also said he doesn’t eat ramen. Kyo: and he doesn’t eat spicy food. Kyo: Now he’s just eating, like tofu? Tofu or soybeans. Shinya: he researched and knows a lot. Even when going on a diet in the past he found a good plan. During the rapid question time they also answered another one for Die “I bought Die’s model guitar. Please tell me how can I get better” when reading Kyo answered “tooth guitar”. I think it was when reading about this guitar? Kyo started laughing then Fujieda started laughing and for a bit they both faced each other laughing.

“Coffee” Kyo: I drink it black. Even at home. Using beans from Starbucks. I drink 1~3 cups a day. Fujieda: Kaldi’s coffee is also great. They have many types. Kyo: If you say that they have many different types you have to try them to compare. You don’t say this even though you didn’t drink them, right? Fujieda: I tried quite a lot. There’s different one for each season. Now they sell sakura blend etc. Kyo: Ah, then it’s fine. If you drank it. Shinya: some years back I bought Nespresso coffee maker but I’ve only used it for 2 weeks. It’s still in my house. Kyo (suddenly looking at Shinya): gimme! (くれ!) Shinya: o, okay. Kyo (turning to Fujieda looking happy): he said okay! Kyo: Then I will give you a coupon to get that right side curl fixed. it caught my eye that looking from here that just the right side of your hair has this weird curl. Shinya: No, it’s not weird... Kyo: But I will give you a voucher to get that fixed.

“What’s your routine before the show?” Both of them don’t have one Kyo: Does anyone have? Fujieda: Toshiya is doing muscle training. Kyo: Ah... and doesn’t Die move around a lot? Shinya: He does. Until the start he’s very restless. Kyo: Right? Even when we all gather one is always going back and forth. “Your favourite takoyaki” Shinya: I don’t care. Even though I’m from Osaka I don’t really eat takoyaki. It is said that every household in Kansai will have a takoyaki machine but we didn’t. In the 20 years I lived there I only had like 5 octopus balls. Kyo: That time when you were wearing that long earring? You only had 5? So what type? Shinya: the one that is crispy outside and soft inside

“A difficult song” Shinya: Rinkaku. Because I need to keep kicking. It’s faster than Zan. The drum is nice but it totally kills my leg. Kyo: DIFFERENT SENSE as I said before. I imagined a dialogue as it’s a heavy song when I made it, but when I didn’t get any response, I ended up having to sing all of it by myself so it’s really tiring. I tried control my breathing when swimming but I can’t. Kyo: So in the end it’s like swimming the whole thing without breathing. I was told by Kaoru to try pointing the mic [at fans], but all I get is ‘eh right now?’ (gestures pointing with his right arm) I get ‘eh here?’ The people in front of me try to respond, but the people on the sides (again points with his right arm) go ’eh? Eh? Here? (agitated) so I gave up. I don’t mind if it’s the wrong pitch, just put your feelings into it.

Kyo: I started playing Monster Hunter. On Switch. Takabayashi: I’m also playing. Kyo: Then let’s play together! (big grin) Takabayashi: Okay. Shinya: I bought it on the day DS got released, but I couldn’t understand the objective of the game after playing for a day so I didn’t feel like playing anymore. Kyo: So you just started playing from zero by yourself? No one helped you saying what to do? Shinya: Yup. Kyo: If you told me I’d have helped you. Shinya: So in the end what happens? What is the goal? Kyo: there’s none. Shinya: What? Kyo: You just continue getting your level up. Shinya: And for how long do you continue to play? Kyo: There are people who continue playing until the next game comes out. Shinya: Woah...

"What weapons you're using in Monster Hunter" Kyo: I'm using a bow. It might seem it's because it's huge, but I can attack from a distance and avoid being found. Make a shot from a distance, if you're found out you can run away. Direct confrontation is scary.

“During the Osaka period what studio did you use?” Kyo: Was it in Umeda? Shinya: Yup. Fujieda: What was the name? Kyo: I don’t remember. Do you? Shinya: Yes. It was M4　www.m4-studio.com Kyo: That’s some memory. Shinya: I booked it. I confirmed the date with 4 of you and called them. We made Karma and Aoi Tsuki there.

“About Oboro teaser” Kyo: Could you see me? I only watched it on my phone so couldn’t tell what was what.

“Rock-May-KanGIG" Shinya: there were many problems... no one around me [to help]. When my ear monitor fell out I had to fix it myself. And I made this rookie mistake of not pressing record on camera... Kyo: We don’t remember things like that. Kyo: Do you remember what you ate a month ago? You don’t right? It’s the same. You might remember that the main dish was shrimp but you won’t remember sides. “About SOGAI in May” Kyo: something that will happen in a month...Do you think about what you will be eating in a month? Fujieda: But I think many fans are looking forward to it. Kyo: I guess, but that’s because they’re going to enjoy the food. From the side of people who will be cooking you only start preparing about a week before, no? Fujieda: So you will start feeling motivated a week before... Kyo: Nope. Fujieda: Shinya, do you think this analogy works? Shinya: After hearing it I think so.

“What are some food combinations that you find just wrong?” (*from other twitter reports the question had example like pineapple in sweet sour pork etc) Shinya: as long as there’s no foods I dislike anything is okay. Kyo: I don’t have any food like that, but but I hate when people mix different sports brands. Wearing adidas with Nike shoes and so on. When I see someone like that I want to tell them ‘could you not?’

“What expensive item have you bought recently?”

Shinya: I’ve already answered this earlier. A camera. The camera itself was 40k and lens was 20k yen. Kyo: What do you use the camera for? Shinya: For recording and so on. Kyo: What kind of [recording]? Shinya: For youtube or Haiiro. Kyo: Isn’t iPhone good enough for that? Kyo: When I’m taking a photo I just pass my iPhone and ask someone. Fujieda: I was given a camera for taking photos, but after about 15 minutes I was told to use iPhone in the end. Kyo: Do you know what was different? Fujieda: I didn’t. Kyo: (*going back to the main question) an expensive item... Nike and Garcons sneakers I guess. They were about 20k yen.　(*Pegasus?) I’m drinking coffee while looking at the sneakers.

“Do you prefer indoor or outdoor festivals?” Shinya: If it’s daytime then indoor. It would be too bright outdoor in daytime. Kyo: I hate insects so indoor. Weren’t there so many insects when you had plants? Fujieda: Speaking of insects, don't they get into your mouth when you ride a bike? Kyo: You ride a bike with an open mouth? Silly kid. Fujieda: Instead of having open mouth, it's like there's suddenly an insect in your mouth, when it crashes into you. Kyo: Riding a bike with an open mouth is silly. Why, are you singing? Fujieda: Sometimes I do, actually. Kyo: If you're singing while riding that's okay, if you just have your mouth open while riding that's silly.

"About SOGAI in May" Shinya: We're working on the setlist, it will be great. Kyo: That's why I don't want you to ask me about a concert in a month. Don't ask me questions about concerts next year. I won't answer.

"What's a good place in Hirakata?" Shinya: Hira pa (Hirakata Park) and TSUTAYA, right? TSUTAYA is where I was born. Fujiefa: Eh? Really? I didn't know. Kyo: if in Tokyo you say Hirapa no one will understand Kyo: Do you know? (looks at Shinya) when you just come in and there's a place with dogs Shinya: Like real dogs? Kyo: Yeah. There are about 20 dogs, but all are so tired. Lifeless as if they were abused. Of course they weren't abused, but it's a place where you can spend some time with dogs but they are so tired, so lifeless and tired that it's almost a shame they are kept there. (*I think he's talking about Doubutsu Hug Hug Town)

"What hotel facilities do you find exciting?" Shinya: ...for example? Fujieda: ehm... Kyo: This is not something exciting, but. You know in a shower? When you don't know if you're supposed to move the handle up or down? Maybe this way? And then when you move it the water suddenly comes out from above! (Shinya nods) Fujieda: That's criminal! Was it hot? Kyo: First water came out, but when I turned the handle the water suddenly poured from above, I got totally soaked. How do you use that? Shinya: there are some places where water comes out in 3 places instead of 2. Fujieda: Criminal! Fujieda: Anything exciting? Shinya: Like? Fujieda: Like a big tv. Shinya: I don't watch TV. Dujieda: That's true, you don't. How about a very good pillow? Shinya: I don't care. Kyo: And the shower [head]! Just from one hole the water goes in a strange direction, there's nothing stuck there, just water, but just this one spot. What's that about? (Shinya continued to nod while smiling)

"To Shinya. What time did you wake up today?" Shinya: Around 1. At night. Fujieda: What time did you go to bed? Shinya: I think about 10pm. Fujieda: You almost didn't sleep at all. Kyo: Aren't you an old man now! (*🤣🤣🤣🤣)

"What toothpaste and toothbrush are you using?" Kyo: Any toothpaste is okay, but I prefer small toothbruses. Because I have very complex teeth. Like a maze. You get lost there. That's why I choose a tothbrush with a small head, has good reach. Shinya: I'm using a toothpaste from overseas with an M, any brush is okay for me. But I use one with water coming out of it. Fujieda: Is it electric? Shinya: Yes. Fujieda: Is it painful? Shinya: Well sometimes it gets a bit bloody. Kyo: You're really into it (laughing) to keep using it even if you're bleeding.

Kyo is watching The world unknown to Matsuko every week (depends on the episode but it's interesting), when finishing the 2nd sessiin event Shinya said 'go straight home and from 8:57 watch The world unknown to Matsuko'. It already started and it seems [dir] appeared there.

"Where do you want to tour besides Tokyo-Nagoya-Osaka?" Shinya: Somewhere we still haven't been to... where was it? Takabayashi: ehm... Shimane, Wakayama, Saga. Shinya: There. Kyo: Kyoto. Kyoto is good. Kyoto is the best. Even now I'd love to [have an event] in Kyoto instead. Kyoto is the best or, I want to become Kyoto.

"What animals do you like in the zoo?" Kyo: ehm... sheep I guess. I want to look at them or hold them. Shinya: Animals you don't see in everyday life like giraffes, elephants or lions.

"What do you like in an amusement park?" Kyo: I guess the haunted house? Yeah, haunted house. It's okay when people try to scare me. It's not scary. I'm laughing all the time. Fujieda: So you can enjoy FujiQ no problem? Kyo: I haven't been, but I think it's fine? I would be fine bringing a sheep with me I guess? Going in while stroking the fluffy sheep. Shinya: Ferris Wheel. Fujieda: How about the thrilling ones? Shinya: I don't like them. Fujieda: So Ferris Wheels for Shinya, understood.

"About shooting Oboro PV" Shinya: It was tough. Kyo: You say that? Say that to ME?? Shinya: Well, you were shooting naked. The green stuff got all over my clothes and cleaning that took ages. Kyo: Ah, I guess. But you could've gotten it dry cleaned, no? Shinya: It was a fabric that cannot be dry cleaned. I couldn't remove it in the end so I gave it to Fujieda. Kyo: You did? You got it? Fujieda: Yeah, I passed it to the person who designed the costume. Kyo: I see... Shinya: And the floor was very cold. Kyo: You say that?!?!?! Fujieda: Were you okay, Kyo? Kyo: Yeah... I'm a pro in the end. Fujieda: Oh (claps) Kyo: Are you mocking me? Looking down on me? Fujieda: No! Not at all! I clapped because I think that's great! Kyo: No, you're defnitely looking down on me. It's the same as the 'whats your salary like?' 'this much' 'oh'.

tbc

#dir en grey #kyo #京 #shinya #爆音会 #talk event #namba hatch #translation

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wildernessuntothemselves · 4 years ago

Text

Prey for You | Part 4

Genre: Smut, angst, and some fluff this time

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: It has come to this. After your landlord kicks you out, you’re at Chan’s mercy. Turns out, he might not be as bad as you thought he was.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, switch!reader, switch!chan, wolf!hybrid chan, fox!hybrid reader, thigh riding, really unheathly dynamics

A/N: this part is like the opposite of a tootsie roll soft on the outside hard on the inside

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Part 5, Part 6

“This is just for a short while.” You say, swallowing the bile that has risen up in your throat as you look at the smug wolf sitting in front of you on his couch.

“Sure.” He shrugs nonchalant, but the cocky arch of his brow says otherwise and you have to squash down your pride with everything you’ve got not to jump on him. Like it or not, you’re at his mercy now that your landlord has officially evicted you. Without his gracious help, you’d now be on the streets. “I’ll find another place as soon as I can.”

“You can take all the time you need.” He opens his arms wide, going for a welcoming vibe but the stupid grin on his face counteracts it.

“No. I’ll be out of here soon.” You deadpan, not wanting to owe him more than you already do. God knows he’ll hold his over your head forever. "And I don't feel comfortable living here for free so from now on until I leave, I'll be taking care of things around the house."

“Oh, how domestic.” He chirps sweetly.

"More like a live-in maid." You mutter under your breath but he easily hears it, the stupid grin finally dropping from his face as he sits forward and looks at you sincerely. "Don't say that. I meant what I said. You’re here as a friend."

"Yeah, sure." You snort. “You’re basically high from gloating.”

A smile tickles his lips again as he leans back. “I always enjoy the chance to one-up you, but that doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

“Wow, you really are a saint.” You jeer, grabbing your bag and heading towards the room that is to be yours.

_________________

To your great surprise, living with Chan was actually kind of nice. Aside from the obvious perk of living in such a comfortable, beautiful house that had everything you could ever need. Chan himself was proving himself to be a quiet congenial roommate. Most importantly, he left you the hell alone for the most part, staying cooped up in his studio the majority of the day so that you barely even saw him. And despite your agreement that you’d take care of things around the house, he still did most of his things himself, picking up after himself and washing his clothes before you got the chance to. He fed himself too as indicated by the boxes of takeout from every possible fast food place filling out the trash. So you were barely wasting any time on taking care of the house, and spending most of your days following up on your studies like you so sorely needed.

All in all, this whole arrangement was working out positively in your favor. Too positively, that you have to wonder what he was getting out of this. He can’t possibly really be doing this out of the goodness of his heart, especially since no one is even aware of this kind deed for him to gain any morality points off of it. He hasn’t even made a move on you for the whole three weeks you’d been here, seeming content to just coexist with you that you were starting to feel like you were taking advantage of him somehow. Even though this whole thing was his idea.

Maybe that, your momentary self-doubt, is what prompted you to do what you did next.

“Hmm, something smells nice.” Chan remarks, walking into the kitchen where you were making yourself some food. He stands behind you to take a look at what you were cooking, and you feel your heart skipping a beat at the now familiar scent of him filling your nostrils and his body being so close to you. And when he speaks, his voice deep and calm next to your ear, it makes your skin tingle. “Looks tasty too.”

And like a teenager who had the great fortune of being noticed by the popular jock, you twist your head around to look at him, dewy-eyed as the words stumble out of your mouth before you can think them over. “Would you like to have dinner with me today?”

He pauses, looking at you curiously and you turn back to the food and continue nervously, “I mean, that junk food you eat everyday can’t be good for you.”

“Aw, are you worried about me?” He asks cheekily, and your shoulders tense. “Never mind.”

“No, no, I’ll have dinner with you.” He rushes to say, plopping down on a seat resolutely. “No take backsies.”

“Idiot.” You mutter, finding yourself wearing an involuntary smile because of him once again.

__________________________________

You’re not the best cook, you’ll be the first to admit it, but Chan praises your food like you are a world class chef.

“Fuck off, Chan. It’s not that good.” You protest awkwardly, not really used to being complimented. But he insists, mouth full of food, “It is! It’s sublime.”

You look down at your food to avoid eye contact with him and put on your best snooty voice. “Poor thing. Your habit of eating exclusively junk food must’ve ruined your palate to the point where you think my cooking is anything but decent.”

“You sell yourself short. These hands--” He suddenly grabs your hands suddenly, startling you as he kisses them. “They’re magic.”

You yank them back to your lap, flustered, the adrenaline pushing your poor fluttering heart into overdrive and making you panic. You quickly grab your fork and shove some food into your mouth trying to distract yourself from the conflicting emotions clashing in your chest, and regretting it almost immediately as your nausea swells up.

“Is that how you woo prey?” You snark, taking a big gulp of your wine to wash down the piece of food you barely chewed. “Blatantly lie to them about their cooking skills?”

The atmosphere fully changes as Chan drops his cheery attitude. “Can we not talk about… that? It’s just you and me here. We don’t have to let the outside world in, do we?”

You still, your sense of danger rising up exponentially at his suggestion, and once again you find yourself wondering why he was doing this. What was his endgame here? Was he just messing with you? He puts on an honorable performance but you’ve seen him slip before. It must get tiring for him. Maybe he wants to see you hurt; it’s in his nature and he’s been repressing it for so long. You’d be the perfect victim too. No one even knows you’re here, and even if they did, they’d never believe your word over his.

Or he could be genuine. Maybe he’s as nice as he tries to be. But that just scares you more, because how do you deal with that? You’ve never had a relationship with someone that was open and trusting. You’ve always hid behind your games. They kept you safe. No one has ever truly hurt you because you’ve never allowed someone to get close enough. But if you trust Chan, if you let him in and he betrays you… you don’t know how you’d even recover from that.

You want to believe though. Everyone always says how much of a good person he is, how loyal, how selfless, how supportive. They can’t all be blind, right? And you’ve seen it too, in the way he always strived to protect his friends from you. He wanted the best for them. Maybe he could want the best for you too.

“Okay.” You answer in a small voice, heart pounding.

His answering smile is bright and big, but it does nothing to assuage your fears so you settle for taking another sip of your wine. That’s what it’s made for, right?

“So, what do you actually do? I never asked.” Chan makes conversation as he gets back to his food.

You clear your throat. “I’m a waitress.”

“Oh, and… um, is that what you want to be doing?” He asks unsurely.

You roll your eyes at him, feeling a little at ease at his naivety. “No. Nobody wants to work in the service industry. It’s basically slavery and all your costumers are either rude or crazy. I hate it.”

He pauses, looking like he’s thinking very hard for a moment, before he asks, perplexed. “So why do you do it?”

“To eat?”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” His ears turn red and it’s his turn to take a big gulp of his drink. “I’m, uh, apparently an idiot. Yes, people work to afford living. Of course.”

“I guess you’ve never had to think about that.” You note, surprised that you don’t feel any bitterness as you say it.

“No.” He stares at the food on his plate. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah but--”

“But I don’t have money so you feel sorry having money in front of me?” You grin, tone light, and he smiles back, face flushed as he obviously chastises himself in his head.

“So…” He starts again, and it’s a little endearing how nervous he is. “What do you really wanna do?”

You regard him for a second, wondering if you should really cross that line and let him in. Well, here goes nothing.

“I’m studying to be a doctor.”

His jaw drops to the floor. “You?”

“Yeah, shocking right?” You quip, taking another sip from your glass.

“I mean, yeah.” You would take offense at his words if it weren’t for the--you begrudgingly admit--endearing confused frown on his face. “Isn’t that a traditionally prey profession? Don’t you get, like, weird looks or something?”

“Yeah.” You snort, feeling the bitterness rise to the surface. “I get more than just weird looks. People feel the need to tell me every moment of every day how I’ll never be a good doctor. How no one will trust a fox with their life. How I should just quit and get into business or law or whatever other profession that can use my no-doubt nefarious skills.”

“That sucks.” He says then immediately cringes at his lame comment.

“Yeah, no shit. And guess who says it the most? Prey hybrids.”

A light bulb suddenly clicks above his head. “Is that why you dislike them? They’re really not all like that--”

You interrupt him sharply, already knowing where he was going with this. “They’re not like that to you because you’re powerful and rich and you could do whatever you want, but they’re ruthless to me. They’ve always been. So yeah excuse me if I don’t care too much for your prey apologism. It’s pretty infuriating actually.”

“I really think you should--”

“What about you?” You ask pointedly, clearly wanting to change the subject. “I mean, I know that you’re a producer. I suppose this is what you’ve always wanted to be doing.”

“Ah, yes.” He coughs, straightening in his seat as he reels back from the change of topic. “I’ve loved it since I was an angsty teen listening to hip hop and pretending like I’m so cool and gangsta.”

The thought of little rich boy Chan swearing it up and down and acting like a thug brings an involuntary and sincere laugh out of you. It doesn’t bother Chan though. If anything, he looks content to have made you laugh.

“Did you…” He begins after your laughter dies down, fiddling with the stem of his glass as he looks at you from under his lashes, “Have you ever listened to any of my tracks?”

“No.” You scoff, the word coming out automatically. I mean, why would you? It’s not like you like the guy.

His face falls at your flippant answer. “Ah. Of course.” He says flatly, bringing his glass to his mouth.

You feel a pang of guilt in your chest. Logically, you know you have no reason to feel bad. You two were never on the best of terms and you have no obligation to listen to his songs. And yet, as you look at his crestfallen face, the guilt still eats at you.

“How about you show me some after dinner?” You find yourself suggesting and his face immediately brightens up. “Yeah! I mean… you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He interjects quickly, even though he clearly wants you to.

“I want to.” You say firmly, and he smiles. ___________________________________

“I’m a nice guy who just has a lot of money?” You wheeze, cracking up and face flushed from the intoxication. You were somehow on Chan’s lap as the night progressed from him showing you his proudest works to his most regrettable ones.

“I know. I know. What was I thinking, right?” He laughs along with you despite his obvious embarrassment.

You lean in close to his face, humming, "I think it's endearing." You kiss him.

"You just like embarrassing me." He protests weakly, mouth opening against your lips.

“Guilty.” You pull away to take his shirt off. Caressing his exposed muscles, you grin, “Hmm...yummy.”

He bursts out laughing, “You like it?”

You shrug, “It’s not what I usually go for but I can get used to it.”

He scoffs at that, and pulls your own shirt over your head. Tugging your bra over your breasts, he cups them in his hands and murmurs against your skin, “Well, I don’t need to get used to these.” before his mouth latches onto them. He sucks marks onto the sensitive flesh while his hands grope and knead your breasts.

Looking up at you, he pushes your breasts together and laps his tongue over the nipples. Your arousal spikes as your gaze locks with his challenging one, and you start rocking yourself over his thigh.

"Fuck that's hot." He mumbles, lightly tugging on your nipple with his teeth as he pulls away, making you moan out and your hips swivel down to push your core harder against his thigh.

"Wait, wait," He pulls you to your feet, and you whine, protesting the loss.

“Hush, baby girl.” He soothes, yanking your pants down your legs along with your underwear before he slips his hand between your legs to drag a finger up your slit, hissing when he feels your wetness. "That's what I want." He groans, pulling you back down on his thigh and using his grip on your hips to make you move over his thigh again. "Want you to ruin my pants with your cum, baby girl. Show me how much you need me."

"But I don't need you." You retort, though your hips don’t slow down.

“Are you sure about that, my little fox?” He flexes his thigh under you, pushing it up more against your core.

“Uh-huh.” You breathe, squeezing your eyes shut and throwing your head back. He takes the opportunity to get back to sucking on your breasts, which only makes your movements more frantic.

“Come on, baby, tell me how good I am and I’ll help you.” He gasps between kisses. You tug on his hair, almost bouncing on his thigh now. “Why don’t you beg for it, pup?”

“Unbelievable.” He growls, pulling your head down. “You’re still so prideful even as you hump my leg like bitch.”

Whatever stinging remark you would’ve hurled at him is muffled against his lips as he pulls you into a hungry kiss. You let him push his tongue into your mouth, taking him in and caressing it with your own before you put your hands to his chest and push him back.

“You really want it? Want me to say how good you are for me? How wet you make me?"

He nods eagerly.

“What a sweet pup.” You praise, “Striving so hard to please me. You’re doing so well, baby. You’ll make me cum real soon.”

“Do it, please. I wanna see what you look like cumming up close.”

“Keep tensing your leg like that and you’ll have me cumming in no time, puppy.” You bite your lip, small but needy moans flowing out of you. “What a good boy you are, so good.”

“Please,” He whispers, his hands helping you move faster on his thigh. “Please, please.”

“So close---ah---oh god, so close...baby!” You gasp, grabbing onto him tightly as you finally cum, the orgasm surprisingly potent. He beams up at you, soaking up every little moan and shudder you let out. “So pretty.”

Gradually, your panting breaths turn into airy giggles as you get down from your high. You give his lips a peck before your hands fall between you and starts pulling his dick out from his sweatpants. You grin against his lips, feeling giddy. "I can’t believe I’m gonna let you fuck me in your studio. How cliche.”

His answering chuckles are punctuated with little moans as you glide your hand up and down his hard dick. “If it--ahh-- makes you feel any better, t-this is the--ahh, yeah like that, baby-- the first time I fuck anyone here.”

You giggles increase in pitch, “You’re so full of shit, Chan.”

“I’m serious.” He whines, leaning up into your touch as you swipe your palm over the leaking head of his cock. “This is kind of a... sacred place for me."

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, “It can’t be that special if you’re here with me now.”

“It is.” He insists with a pout, and continues casually as if it was nothing, “Because you’re special.”

Your hand stills on his cock, your face turning to stone as you try and make sense of what he just said. He's messing with you. He has to be.

Fear and uncertainty makes your stomach churn and your skin loses all color, your face getting cold and sweaty as the bile rises up in your throat. You thought you could handle this but you can’t. You’re too much of a coward to risk it and your sense of self-preservation rears its deformed head once again.

Standing up abruptly, you croak through your suddenly dry mouth, "I think I’m gonna go. I need to lie down"

Chan gets up too, not letting you go. "Oh, is everything okay? Are you sick?".

"I’m fine. I’m just..." You explain weakly, wriggling yourself out of his grip as quickly as you can in your intoxicated state. "I gotta go."

“Hey, wait!” Chan calls after you, but doesn’t try to stop you. You hear him curse out just before you get out of earshot.

____________________

You wake up with a huge headache and an even bigger feeling of dread. The events of last night coming back like a bullet shot through your chest, and you’re even more confused now with the hangover shattering any hope of a coherent thought forming in your head.

You stumble out of bed and head to the door, resolving to get some water and some painkiller so you’d maybe start to feel like your head wasn’t likely to explode at any moment. But as you slide the door open, you hear bickering voices just outside in the living room.

"Chan, what the hell are you doing man?" You hear a familiar voice ask but your brain is too scattered to pinpoint the owner of it right now. Luckily, you don’t need to as Chan speaks up in reply, "It's fine, Jisung. It’s all under control."

"No, it's not. Isn’t that what you used to tell me? That no matter how much she makes it seem like she cares, she could flip the table on me at any moment and that I shouldn’t trust her. That’s what you said!”

You quickly pick up that they’re talking about you despite how much you don’t want to believe it. But that’s the kind of language that has always been directed at you, there is no mistaking it. Yet, against all reason, you hope it’s not true. Or at least, you hope Chan would deny it.

He doesn’t, of course. They never do.

“I know what I said!”

“And? Do you trust her now?” Jisung asks incredulously.

“Of course not.” Chan vehemently denies, the resoluteness in his voice piercing straight through your heart.

Of course not. Of course he doesn’t trust you. What a ridiculous question.

“Jisung is right, Chan.” A new voice adds and you focus on the sound of it, trying not to break down just yet. “You’re letting her sleep under your roof, man, and you didn’t even think to tell us. Has she been messing with your head?”

They are talking about you like you are some kind of monster, some wild beast that would pounce on you the second you turned your back to it. You’d find it amusing coming from anyone else, but not from Chan, because for once in your life you wanted to believe that someone could see you as something other than what the world thought you were. You blame yourself for this one.

“My head is fine.” Chan retorts angrily, letting out a forced sigh. “I’m just.... She was in trouble and I had to help her.”

“Oh, you had to?” The new guy interjects mockingly, “Tell me, would she have helped you if you were in her position?”

“That’s irrelevant.” Chan protests.

“No, it’s not. She would’ve let you suffer and laughed about it. She’s bad news, man.”

“I think you guys are being a little harsh.” Another voice speaks up, deeper than the rest. “Maybe she’s not as bad as you think. I’m sure Chan has a good reason for trusting her.”

“Yeah, I’m sure his dick does.” Jisung scoffs, “You know, I can’t believe you’d do this after preaching to me for hours about how I need to stay away from her and how stupid I am for letting her get to me. But hey, I’m just a stupid squirrel hybrid, right?”

You’ve heard enough. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, you plaster a smile on your face and step into the living room, the four boys’ head snapping around to look at you.

“Chan, you didn’t tell me we had guests.” You ponder theatrically, ignoring Chan’s dismayed exclamation of your name. "Oh hey, Sungie. I knew you'd be back for more." You wink at him and he immediately ducks behind the dark-haired stranger.

“Please go back to your room.” Chan asks, equal measure pale and tense.

“But aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” Your eyes flit over the three guys, stopping when you get to the blonde, freckled one. “Especially this one. What’s your name, pretty boy?”

The boy blushes at the unexpected flirtation but extends his hand out to you nonetheless. "I'm Felix." He greets you unexpectedly cheerily, and you’re even more surprised to find out that he’s the one with the deep voice.

But before you can take his hand, Chan steps between the two of you.

"I need to talk to you." He grits, pulling you to your room and shutting the door behind you. “What are you doing?”

You shrug, feigning ignorance. “Saying hi to the guests?”

“Now is not the time for your games.” Chan rakes his hand through his hair, stressed out, but you keep up your innocent facade and he sighs in defeat. “You know what? Just stay in your room until they leave and then we’ll talk.”

“No, we’ll talk now. Are you ashamed of me or something?" You wonder, cocking your head to the side. “I thought you said I was special to you? But apparently you say a lot of things.”

“Baby--”

“Why, Chan?” You finally let your facade drop, letting the full extent of your disappointment and sadness break through. “If you don’t want me here then why did you offer in the first place?”

“I do want you here. I just wasn’t planning on anyone finding out about this.”

You laugh in disdain, “How do you always know what to say, Chan?”

“I’m sorry but you have to realize how bad this looks for me. I worked fucking hard to get to where I am today. There are so many people waiting for me to make the slightest mistake so they can watch me fall. And here you are… well, you don’t exactly have the best reputation. If people find out about us then--”

“Wow, you really are an angel, aren’t you?” You bite, venom lacing your every word.

He laughs cruelly. “Oh, yes, and the judgement comes out. You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You can judge everyone and treat them like shit, but as soon as someone does the same to you you’re suddenly the poor misunderstood victim that everyone bullies.”

You reel back at the harshness of his tone and words. He’s never spoken to you like that before, no matter how much he was upset at you. It was jarring. “Stop it.”

“Why? It’s what you’re best at, darling.” He sneers, continuing to ruthlessly attack you. “You judged me before you even knew me and went about treating me like a feeble predator because that’s what you decided that I am. And now you want me to take responsibility for your actions and stand up for you when other people treat you the way you’ve been treating them? But here’s the thing, baby; maybe if you had actually been a decent person and treated others with respect, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Hell if you'd been a decent person, you wouldn't be having such a hard time anywhere, not with me, not with school, not--"

"No, fuck you, chan. Don't you dare tell me this is all my fault. You know nothing about my life! I can't believe I actually--never mind.”

“No say it. You actually what? Liked me? Cared for me? Don’t make me laugh, fox. You don't give a shit about me. Every time I try to get close to you, you pull back like I make you sick. If it weren’t for me offering you a place to stay, you wouldn’t even be talking to me right now. You only care now because I have something to give you, but the second you’re done with me, you’ll throw me in the trash like you do everyone else. And I’m not going to sacrifice all that I’ve worked for to entertain you until you’re bored.”

“You may be right. I may be as awful as you all say I am.” You smile, tears falling down your face. “But at least I'm honest with myself. You on the other hand? Under all your pretense, you're just as fucked up as I am. And one day, everyone will see you for how ugly you really are. ”

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A/N: sorry guys she (me) had to do it to you. leave your feedback uwu

#bangchan smut #chan smut #stray kids smut #bangchan angst #stray kids angst

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