#sometimes I just want them to have a bit of a lie-in you know?

[eldritchgriffin]

As an ADHDer, I have experienced pretty much all of this. As a person who has now convinced two separate people to get tested for ADHD, resulting in them getting diagnosed, absolutely look into how you can get tested if you relate to even half of this.

Also, I frequently experience over/understimulation, so here's some Eldritch ADHD Advice. The most important thing is to become aware of when you are over/understimulated.

Some indicators of understimulation are boredom, difficulty focusing, or your mind wandering. The critical part is realizing that you losing focus is due to not having enough to focus on, not due to having too much to distract you.

Signs of overstimulation include feeling overwhelmed, disengaging from conversation because you can't find the energy to join in, and wanting to go somewhere quiet or lie down.

Now, for the actual advice:

The way I think of it is that my brain requires a very specific level of stimulation at any given time. Different tasks offer different levels and types of stimulation. The trick is figuring out what kind and how much engagement something takes.

As an example, I cannot listen to podcasts if I am not doing anything else. Podcasts are an audio only experience, and not one I have to actively engage with, so I struggle to focus on them. In the other direction, I can't listen to podcasts while driving, because driving requires too much focus, and I can't pay attention to the podcast. The balance I've found is podcast combined with a simple task or game. Cleaning is good as long as it doesn't require much thought, and for games I'll usually choose something like sudoku, nonograms, endless runners, or similar - nothing that requires reading though. The important thing is that it gives me something to look at and keeps my hands busy.

If I'm having trouble doing a task because it doesn't stimulate me enough, I'll try listening to (usually instrumental) music, or if the task requires audio, finding something to fidget with.

For overstimulation, noise-canceling headphones have been a game-changer for me. Also, know that sometimes it's okay to just leave. If you've been at an event for long enough you're getting overstimulated, and you don't need to stay longer, you can just go home, or at least find somewhere quiet to unwind for a bit. As the skeleton says, "if it sucks, hit da bricks."

This turned out much longer than I had planned lol. Hopefully at least some of it is helpful!

bro im gonna CRY i didnt know this 🥺

[lovemomhatepolice]

jj maybank nswf alphabet (part 1) (minors DNI!)

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BEFORE YOU START READING: THERE IS A SPOILER OF SEASON 4 AT THE BOTTOM, SO IF YOU WANT TO AVOID IT, DON'T READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE BELOW

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Before JJ got involved with you, he was hardly the type to pay attention to aftercare. All the girls that came before were either only for one night or he didn't care enough about them to be concerned about what would come after their intercourse. It was the same for their part, so sex alone was enough. However, when he met you and your first intercourse occurred, JJ felt he had to do something more. Since then, he talks to you for a long time afterwards, you go to take a bath together to embrace each other after intercourse, and he is even more clingy than always

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Oh, JJ is a big fan of his body. He is well aware that he is damn handsome and has a well-sculpted body, so he often shows it off. And in you? JJ appreciates everything, really. He loves your hands, because he can grab them when he wants and intertwine his fingers with yours. He loves your lips, which he could kiss over and over again. He loves your thighs, which he keeps lying on and squeezing them. But you can't take away from the fact that he's pussy drunk. What the heck, but JJ loves your pussy the most and whenever he gets the chance, he's in it or by it. That's it

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Creampie!!! Has anyone heard this? CREAMPIE! JJ loves, adores, well normally he would give up everything just for the sight of you with your combined juices flowing out of your pussy

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) JJ doesn't have too many dirty secrets, maybe some kind of triangle? Or I don't know, an orgy? Just kidding. JJ is able to give up everything just for that, until you finally dominate him to the max like that. Mostly he is the one who dominates, but every night he dreams about it until you finally do it

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Let's not lie to ourselves, JJ is a bit of an Outer Banks man whore, so his experience is quite high. The way he works his tongue, his fingers, let alone his cock, oh god. God of sex, there's no denying it

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Cowgirl. JJ loves your breasts and the fact that he has them in full glory in front of him in this position is downright addictive to him. He can touch them, suck them, kiss them. Likewise, he has great access to your face, which he loves to look at and see your face contorted in the pleasure you both give each other. Plus, I've already mentioned how much he dreams of you dominating him. And this position falls a bit under that, especially when he doesn't help you from below and you can lead you to orgasm alone

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) This is JJ, everyone knows his being clumsy in life. It's the same in bed. Many things amuse him and his mouth doesn't close during your intercourse. He was even amused by the way the spring in the couch at John B's house flew out when he just happened to be taking you from behind. Well, John B was not amused by that….

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) JJ has a lot of hair on his head and legs, so I think he's not completely shorn there either. But so that it's not sloppy and kept in order. As for you, I think he would also prefer it not to be thick there. Although too often it lands between your legs to worry about silly hair. As long as it's hygienic and the rest he doesn't care. And I even think that some patterning would excite him

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Yes, as I mentioned - since he is with you, he has seen that being romantic in life is not bad at all. And although he sometimes fails (he almost burned down the Chateau when he tried to make a romantic evening with candles), he still tries. He likes to chic you romantic baths, admittedly in the Jacuzzi, but you don't complain. Bubbles, cheap wine and JJ, who is all over you, is all you need.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Maybank is still an excitable teenager and often thinks with his dick, so he needs to shake off the feeling that still holds him down. Most of the time then he finds himself immediately around you so you can help him, but when you're really not there and you can't give him yourself, well, he's left to masturbate to your pictures, which he has in a special folder. Or the videos you amateurishly recorded one day for fun

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) I don't know if you can call it kink, but JJ often likes to have sex with you in public. That is, it's not strange for him to suddenly have sex in the sea or do you good on the boat when you were originally supposed to go “fishing”

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Anywhere, really. JJ has the “I can here and now” method, really, it's not even a joke anymore. If only you are ready, he is able to do anything just to get inside you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Just you. JJ sees you and already has a problem in his pants. Well, what can I say? He's totally pussy whipped and all it takes is one nod from you and he's already ready for action. Your presence in the same room already has him even begging so he can have sex with you or at least touch you a little bit

A/N: part two will be here soon! (If anyone wants me to tag them - let me know in the comments) I will be terribly pleased if you reblogged it :) Of course, if you liked it! I want to create a larger Outer Banks community here, because for now I have reached a small number of this fandom

SPOILER: as you already know, season 4 left us in despair and grief after JJ's death. however, I am not going to stop writing about him. love you JJ, rest in peace sunshine :(

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[zoomzooml]

Redesign concepts of Webmaster and Feathers

After a year

WEBMASTER

My biggest problem with the Webmaster design is how cluttered it seems; there's just a lot going on here. So I tried to calm it down a bit; I took away one pair of legs to make him less cluttered but keep (more or less) original body lenght. And I know that in his episode Jun says “if something has eight legs, she doesn't like it,” refering to spiders, but I think eight limbs works too.

I also played around a bit with his colors and markings. As well as body structure and proportions, noting this dragon's show-off skill - spinning webs.

When he puffs up his “cheeks” just before he spits, you can hear a sticky, mushy sound - you know that something is going on inside. The muscles are moving and pushing something with a sticky, gluey consistency. I would like it to be somewhat repulsive.

When he spits silk in attack it does not come out as big ball of burning web. It's more like net in "V" shape, in form of many separate threads of silk shooted at the same time. Similar to actual spiders, but on the bigger scale. His webs also don't burn; I feel like it's an overkill.

I changed the arrangement of his forelegs slightly. I know it's not quite in line with the style of HTTYD (see Speed Spingers' front limbs) but in his case I think arranging his hands in a similar way to therizinosaurus gives him a more menacing look.

Deadly Spinners are dragons that give a very unpleasant first impression. They are not the most beautiful dragons around (at least not by the standard) and their behavior can be repulsive to some. The type of dragon that people are willing to pin an unfriendly, sometimes unfair patch on more easily than on other dragons - as many people do with spiders or snakes and other similiar animals.

Deadly Spinners don't live in large groups - either small groups or solo. But when they are in a group they have very close bonds and spend a lot of time socializing among themselves.

FEATHERS

She is a challenge to me, not gonna lie. She definitely is the most changed among my redesigns so far. She just seems very basic to me.

The most bothering thing to me about her are those "feathers". Because, Alex in s1ep3 calls these "feathers", as well as Olivia in s5ep2, wiki calls these "feathers-like scales", but they can move and are thick what implies they are more like Furies'/Night Light's head numbs? I absolutely can pass the crowns as feathers, but Queen's horns and holes in her meaty tail were here the last straw to not to

And yes, I made a shitty video because I'm really confused and wanted that confusion express lmao. I hope Tumblr won't take it down.

So idk, I wanted to clarify what the frick those things are and go from there. I had two main ideas - either give her actual feathers or quills similiar to those of Bewilderbeast. When drawning I wasn't sure about either idea but finally decided for the latter one. Feels more HTTYD-like I think? And very flammable feathers don't seem like the best survival choice when almost every other animal around can spit fire.

I reimagine Featherhides as way more nervous and skittish dragons. Changewings were mysterious but usually seemed calm and strategical. Featherhides' nature is more in type of "flee" than "fight" (tho they can get so smoke when needed, they are not defensless or smth). They are very easy to spook and sometimes will flee in panic from something very trival just to return seconds later when they realise there was no danger at all, or are curious of whatever scared them. They often make rapid little movements, much like birds - especially if something catches their eye and they are not sure what it is.

Featherhides also live in large flocks without a complex hierarchy. If they can - they run, if any of them can't - at least some of them also stay behind.

Once Feathers bonds with Alex she would be very protective of her little human.

When Featherhides mimic sounds they do not do weird things with their faces like in the show. It looks much more like like some birds do that. But that's just a sidenote.

[ninyard]

I’m really really curious on how riko saw Kevin from his childhood to “adulthood” and how did he switch to be a kinda normal kid from this, was it when he saw nathan killing someone in front of him that created that sick sort of fascination that he have toward this thing or was it another thing ?

This is such a good ask I love thinking about this!! I always wonder at what point in their relationship did their dynamic change from siblings/friends to competitors/abuser and abused. And I think if we take that Kevin’s mom died when he was that little bit older, it definitely changes how their relationship must’ve been in the beginning.

It makes me wonder how Kayleigh and Tetsuji socialised Kevin and Riko together when they were really young. Did they see each other often? Did they know each other well before Kayleigh died, and Kevin moved in?

Let’s take it that they were as close as siblings, and they might as well have been living together with the amount of time Kevin spent with him in training, or time spent together when Kayleigh went abroad for work and couldn’t take him with her. I think the shift in their relationship wouldn’t have happened until after she died, though, until Riko got the idea in his head that Kevin was his. Not Kayleigh’s, not Tetsuji’s, his.

Riko, more likely than not, probably would’ve displayed signs of being unstable in his childhood. Small things that could’ve been brushed off as boys being boys and kids being kids; he would trip Kevin up and pretend it was an accident, eyes almost dazzling at the blood that dotted his grazed knees. Riko would always take the rough play-fighting too far. He would poke his bruises harder than he should, he would embarrass Kevin in front of other people and make it look like it wasn’t intentional.

I just think of some sort of scenario where Riko takes it that step too far; ten, eleven, maybe, and they’re wrestling, rough housing like they do sometimes. Riko decides he wants to try something, he wants to see how it feels - when Kevin has his back turned to him, he locks an arm around his throat and locks him in an inescapable grip. Kevin’s anxious laugh as he struggles out of the chokehold turns into exasperated pleas to let go, this isn’t funny, I’m going to pass out. He lets him fall in a deoxygenated heap just before he passes out, and it’s a minute until he catches his breath again.

“What is wrong with you?” Kevin pushes Riko back when he takes a step towards him. “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t think you were being serious,” he laughs, a lie, gaslighting, downplaying, whatever you want to call it. “I didn’t actually hurt you. You’re being dramatic.”

There’s other things after that, small ways he got pleasure out of hurting Kevin; at the time he didn’t know that that was why he was doing it. Maybe he just thought it was funny. Maybe he thought it was a joke. Bending his fingers too far backwards, almost dislocating his shoulder in an arm wrestle, hitting his racquet where he knows it hurts, where he knows Kevin is unprotected.

I don’t think that Nathan’s victim was the first body either of them had seen. Where or who or what they would’ve seen before that, I don’t know, but I don’t know. Maybe that body they saw with Nathaniel was the moment where Kevin realised something was seriously wrong with Riko; how he didn’t look away, or grimace, how he smiled the whole time. How his pupils widened as he watched a man being cut into pieces.

Maybe that was when he took it to the next level, when he truly stopped being afraid of Kevin bleeding at his hands. He knew how much he liked it, he’d seen it right in front of him, but maybe that’s the catalyst for when he stops holding himself back. Permission, almost. Look at what man can do. Look at what you’re capable of.

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Thirty Minutes

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: After the Russians came to take you, Claire discovers the chaos in her apartment, and she has a call to make. There is only one person she can think of who can fix this--Matt.

Warnings for this chapter: ANGST, violence, mentions of alcohol and blood, S1 plot, self-loathing, religious imagery, mentions of alcoholism

Word Count: 4k

A/n: This is the kind of chapter that took me so long to write because it's necessary for the rest of the story but I really just want to write the following scenes. But alas, I got it done. I only had the dialogue to begin with, and I tried to do the characters justice.

Read Chapter 16: Thirty Minutes here on AO3!

A lot can happen in thirty minutes.

In thirty minutes, over 8000 babies are born. 

In thirty minutes, over 3000 people die. 

A lot can happen in thirty minutes and most of the time, it does.

In thirty minutes, lives are lived, lives are lost, and lives are given, and the world keeps turning, but it doesn’t necessarily have to take thirty minutes for a life to drastically change. All it takes is a second for the world to stop turning, and a life to be destroyed. 

Claire left the apartment for thirty minutes. She took a walk around the block, her mind reeling with the weight of your argument. It would be a lie if she claimed that it didn’t hurt, that she didn’t consider not walking out because people have continuously hurt you all your life, and that is not your fault. 

You don’t know what’s good for you. You don’t know what it’s like to be loved unconditionally. You are not to blame for the people who abused you. Claire knows how fragile you are. Trauma like the one you endured is not something that goes away easily, but there is only so much abuse she can take. There is only so much she can do to try and help you. 

Sometimes, to help the person you care most about, you have to walk out on them; you have to leave them to their own devices, give them space and time, and hope they realize that they need help. But she can’t help but think that the reason you are so miserable now is her fault. 

Claire told Matt to stay away from you. She told him that he is far too dangerous for you. You barely knew him, so she figured it wouldn’t hurt too much. A little bit of pain is better than death, she thought. In the end, though, she only made you face your trauma all over again because, against all odds, he actually did what she told him to. She didn’t think it was that serious until you stood on her doorstep last night, and she feels guilty—she feels so guilty she could throw up on the street.

Matt is a good guy, but he is a mess. You need someone put together enough to deal with your mess. He isn’t the right person for you and yet, the times you talked about him you sounded the happiest you had in years. He made you happy. She is the reason that happiness is gone now, and you turned to the bottle—again. 

Thirty minutes. 

It feels like an eternity has passed when Claire drags her feet up the stairs. She promised the beaten-up man in the mask she dug out of the dumpers that she wouldn’t leave the apartment. She wouldn’t leave until he solved the problem with the Russians. Until she was safe. 

It was only supposed to be a few days of hiding out, but she lost more in a few days than she gained in two years. She is utterly exhausted. Lying is exhausting. All she ever wanted was to keep you safe, and you still got hurt. If she is destined to fail, what is she even trying for? 

Thirty minutes, that’s how long she was gone. As she enters the building, the air feels different. A shiver runs down her spine, curling in her stomach like a black cloud of doom. 

Claire takes a tentative step forward. The floorboards creak. It is almost as loud as the faint sobbing streaking out into the hall through the gap in her door. 

There are claw marks on the floor. They’re faint, but they’re there—gashes left by a set of sharp nails that weren’t there before. And there’s blood, a trail of blood leading from the door into the apartment, and her heart drops into her stomach. 

She pushes the door open. “Liv?” she asks. No answer. “I swear, if this is your way of getting back at me… this is not–” the ‘funny’ dies on her tongue when her eyes fall on the destruction left behind, the open window and—

Santino is cowering against the wall, beaten up and bleeding, staring back at her like a deer caught in headlights. The bottle of bourbon she bought at the liquor store downstairs falls out of her hand and shatters, mingling with the traces of blood. Your blood. 

“Lo siento,” the boy cries. I’m sorry. 

He tells her he couldn’t stop them. He tells her that he told them where she’s staying, and they took her—you. They took you. Two strange men took you when it should have been her, and it is then she starts to feel her heart bleeding into her chest. 

Santino’s just a child, she thinks. He’s a child who got dragged into a mess much bigger than him, and it’s her fault.

It’s all her fault.

Last night, Matt learned what it sounds like when your heart breaks. 

He listened as it sped up over the dishes clattering in the restaurant. First, it was nerves that had your body shaking against your will. But nerves turned into worry turned into fear, your heart relentlessly hammering against your ribcage. It was hurting you. Every beat brought you closer to the inevitable truth your mind refused to acknowledge. 

Until your heart began to pump the blood a little slower. 

Until the clock turned minutes into hours, and you’d downed your fourth glass of wine. 

You kept a faith you claimed you never really had until time ran out, and you realized that he wasn’t coming. Fear turned into utter disappointment, and your heart cracked. It cracked, and then it broke, shattering like a wine glass on a white cloth.

When he first met you, you were crying over losing a patient—a child. You seemed particularly vulnerable to him, almost broken, in a way, but he also knew that it takes a special kind of strength and resilience to do what you dedicated your life to. 

You confided in him. You had your heart broken by the people who were supposed to protect you most in this world. You could relate to what he went through, and yet when Claire said that he would only ever hurt you, that you deserve better—so much better—Matt didn’t hesitate to prove her right. In vowing to stay away from you, he did the very thing he was trying to avoid. But at what cost? 

God and the Devil are laughing at him. He can kneel on the cold wooden benches that line Clinton Church and pray for His forgiveness; he can confess his sins to Father Lantom as if he’s writing a book about them, and try to repent, but every time he puts on that mask, he is giving away pieces of himself. He sacrifices his happiness for the greater good of the city he loves and for justice, and he lies to the people he loves. He lies, and he ultimately ends up pushing them away. 

Matt sabotages himself over and over again. He pushed you away. He broke off something that was not quite a thing yet, but it could have been; it could have been so beautiful. He ruined it, again. 

He hasn’t slept since. 

When it’s not you, it’s him: Wilson Fisk. The name runs in circles around his mind. It is a whirlwind tornado he cannot seem to stop. He knew something was off when this nameless stranger came to Nelson & Murdock to hire them to defend an obvious murderer. A juror being paid off, the hung jury—it all seemed like an intricate game orchestrated by a third party to assess them.

He tried to keep his work separate from the man he becomes at night. Maybe it was Karen that put them on the radar, or maybe it’s simply because every bad thing in Hell’s Kitchen seems to be connected somehow, and he has put himself in the middle of it. He saved Karen and protected her from a worse fate, but unless he finds a way to stop the boulder from running down the hill toward them, his friends will always be in danger. He attracts it like a fucking magnet. 

Healy impaled himself because he pushed for a name. He caught him, and his curiosity killed the cat. Wilson Fisk. He has never heard of him before. No one has. But if he is the reason for everything that has gone wrong, he needs to find him and he needs to stop him. 

Matt doubts he would have a chance with you if he came running back. When he can make sure that you are safe, maybe he can crawl on his knees back to you and beg for your forgiveness, but rationally he knows he doesn’t stand a chance. 

He hurt you. He broke your heart. He tore through the already friable tissue, and he ruined something that could have been so good for him—for both of you.

No amount of praying can fix that. 

His mind is elsewhere as he and Foggy step out of the precinct into the cool night air. 

“My mom wanted me to be a butcher, you know that?” Foggy says. 

Matt sighs, tapping his cane along the sidewalk. “Oh, not the butcher story.”

“I said, ‘No, Mom, I want to be a lawyer.’” A pause. “I don’t remember what I said next.”

“No, you never do,” he says.

Foggy doesn’t take note of his snark comment. “But I’m fairly certain it wasn’t about bailing out a piss-drunk electrician who nearly burned his house down.” He looks across the street, tugging his friend’s arm in the process. “Let’s cross.”

Matt knows very well where the street is and where the cars are coming from, but he follows his lead without using much of his senses; he trusts him. 

“Ed’s wife left him, Foggy. It was an accident.” His nails dig into his jacket. “Admittedly involving cigarettes and gasoline, but still.”

He had to do some good tonight. He had to make sure at least one broken heart wouldn’t crash and burn. And it’s work. Getting a friend out of a misdemeanor might not be what Foggy signed up for, but it is work they would otherwise not have. After what happened at Healy’s trial, it’s been piles of paperwork and unpaid bills, and Matt really couldn’t stand another second of running his fingers over pages of Braille. 

They cross the street under Foggy’s observant eye. “I could be carving my own corn beef. Making my own pickles. Having a little shop of my own…” he trails off. 

“You got your own office,” Matt murmurs. 

“We have office space,” Foggy corrects. “An actual office would involve plantery and equipment. Fax machines or whatever successful people use.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think they use fax machines anymore.”

“How would I know? Which is endemic to the problem.”

They stop. Matt can feel his eyes boring into his skull, smell his sandalwood cologne and the deli sandwich he had for lunch, the one with the onions and extra pickles. 

“Matt,” Foggy asks, “what if we’re doing this all wrong?” There is a certain uncertainty in his voice. “What if Landman and Zack was the way to go?”

Fear. Worry. Concern. It all plays together.

“You hated interning there,” says Matt.

Foggy shrugs, approaching the street to hail a cab. “I hate being broke.”

If his life weren’t so complicated, he would try harder to give his friend what motivated him to agree to his ballsy idea to start this firm in the first place. Matt knows Foggy has sacrificed a lot for him, sacrifices he surely did not deserve for keeping him in the dark, but when it comes to Foggy, the fear of losing him, of him running away, paralyzes him. 

“You think Landman and Zack would’ve helped out Ed?” he asks. 

“No. But they had free bagels every morning, and they had furniture that didn’t smell like a pack of cigarettes. And elevators… God, I miss the elevators.”

“We’re doing good here, Foggy.”

He turns around. “Are we?”

“Yeah,” Matt nods, “we’re making a difference.”

A cab pulls up to the curb just as his phone starts to ring in his breast pocket. Not the one he always uses. The ringing is new, not yet very familiar, but he recognizes it almost instantly. 

“You have a new phone?” Foggy asks. “We can afford that?”

Matt pulls out the burner phone he bought just a few days ago. There is only one person it could be, only one person who has this number. He flips it open. “Hey, one sec,” he answers, moving away from the speaker to address his friend once more. “Foggy, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He holds open the door to the cab, eyes roaming over Matt’s figure. “It’s a girl, isn’t it? You got a new phone just for your girls.” He slides into the backseat. “My life sucks.”

Again, he chuckles. “Get home safe.”

The motor roars and Matt listens as the yellow car drives away with Foggy inside. Once he’s sure that he is out of reach, he lifts the phone back to his ear. 

“Yeah, Claire, what’s up?” he says. 

She breathes shakily through the line. He can hear her heart racing at a million miles an hour, beating out of her chest like a fright train. Tears lace her voice when she finally finds it in herself to speak. “You have to come over,” she says. “Right now.”

The urgency surprises him. Not so long ago it was him uttering the same words. The wind brushes through his hair. “What happened? You okay?” 

“It’s not me,” Claire whispers. “It’s–” She almost says something else. Another word. Another fact. Another name. Her lungs contract and her breathing gets just a little harder. 

His veins feel as though they are about to burst. He can taste his heart on his tongue. Who, he wants to ask. Why are you calling me? But he doesn’t need to ask her to know the answer. He doesn’t need her to tell him because even from across the city, her reaction speaks louder than words. 

“It’s Liv,” she chokes out, and Matt nearly drops his phone in the gutter. “Someone took her. The Russians...”

You never got involved with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. You weren’t there when he threw the fake Detective off Claire’s roof. You have no idea who he is, you only know that Matt Murdock is an asshole. He wanted to keep it that way. He stayed away to keep you safe. 

They were looking for her. They were looking for Claire, and somehow, they found you. 

They took you.

“Please,” she’s so close to tears that the word barely makes it out in one piece.

The phone snaps shut, wandering back into his pocket. ‘Someone took her,’ it keeps repeating on a loop. Matt folds his cane, and he takes off running. He runs faster than he ever has, not caring if someone sees him. Not caring if someone wonders why a blind man is running in the middle of the night as if he can see. Not caring if someone questions his identity. 

He runs and runs and runs until his lungs are burning and his legs are hurting, and he runs even faster toward the apartment above the liquor store. Toward Claire. 

He runs toward you, for if he lost you he would never be able to forgive himself.

The door to the apartment is already open when he arrives. The distinctive copper of blood hits his nose. It has seeped into the floorboards, seeped into skin. Your scent hangs heavy in the room. He can smell you on the couch cushions and the discarded needle on the living room table. It’s your blood, and hints of someone else’s. You’re everywhere yet nowhere at all, and for the first time since he met you, he can’t feel you. He can’t hear your heartbeat. He can’t make out your presence because neither are you at the hospital nor are you safely tucked away at home where you should be. 

Liquor and rubbing alcohol cling to the oxygen. A broken bottle of bourbon lies shattered on the floor. You weren’t just taken; you spent the night here. Why? What on earth were you doing?

“Oh, thank God!” Claire exclaims. 

“What happened?” Matt asks. His ears are ringing. “Where is she?”

She moves away from Santino who sits motionless, crying, on her sofa. He recognizes his heartbeat faintly from the night on the rooftop with Detective Foster. What a pathetic alias, he thought. But the boy they kidnapped is the reason he is even in this mess. He thought Claire would be safe. He thought he was doing the right thing. 

They hurt an innocent child. They were going to hurt Claire. They hurt you; they took you, and he isn’t sure which scenario is worse. He doesn’t want to imagine. 

“They found Santino, beat him, and he told them where I was,” she says, lip quivering. “Liv spent the night here. We fought, I went for a walk, and… he told them she wasn’t me, but they didn’t care. They just took her.”

He reaches for the nearest chair. “Fuck!” The wood splinters against the wall. 

Claire flinches. “Matt.”

“She wasn’t supposed to be here. You weren’t–” He inhales deeply. “You weren’t supposed to go anywhere. What the hell were you thinking, Claire?”

“What was I thinking?” she bites back. “She was falling apart! That wasn’t my fault!”

Her words cut his skin with the force of a thousand blades. He’s bleeding out in an endless pool, and she goes and twists the knife one more time. 

He ruffles his hair, tugging at the strands for some kind of lifeline. The ground beneath his feet has long melted away. He’s staring in the face of certain demise, but it won’t be him who dies. No, death would be too merciful. He is destined to watch everyone around him fall apart and die before the pain inevitably kills him, too. 

Everything he touches turns to ashes. It rots from the inside out, and then it dies. A withering field of flowers unable to grow new seeds. A graveyard. 

“I told you to stay away from her,” Claire snaps.

“I did,” Matt says. “The second you told me, I broke things off. I stood her up. I told her she deserved better. I did everything so she could make me the bad guy. She had nothing–” He gasps for air. “She had nothing to do with this.”

“You painted a fucking target on her back!”

He matches her volume, even goes above it as the echo threatens to break glass. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“No, you broke her. She almost drank herself into a coma last night because you couldn’t let her down easy. That’s why she was here. You broke her!”

“I–” It takes a long moment to register. 

You almost drank yourself into a coma. You got so drunk you had to sleep on her couch, so drunk she had to hook you up to intravenous fluids, so drunk the two of you fought to the point your friendship imploded, and it was all because of him. Because he thought turning his back would make it easier for you to hate him. 

He turned his back on you. Like a coward.

“I was on that rooftop with you when you put that guy into a coma, not her,” she says, spitting bitterly at his feet with tears clouding her hazel eyes. “I was the one they were looking for.”

Matt begins to pace. The weight of the guilt pressing down on him is making it hard to speak. “Are you sure it was the Russians?” he asks.

She deadpans. “Oh, I don’t know. Did you piss off anyone else?”

“No, I–”

“She wouldn’t have been here if it wasn’t for you!” A tear rolls down her cheek and gets caught in her necklace. “That girl has been through hell and back, and she can take one hell of a punch, but she’s barely got any fight left in her. Now, part of that’s my fault, but she doesn’t deserve to get dragged into your bullshit!”

“I know!” he cries. “Don’t act like she doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“You don’t get to say that!” Claire cuts him off. “You don’t know her! She’s dedicated her life to saving people,” she says. “She beat the odds more than once, and she should be here right now instead of me. So, I need you to get out there and beat the shit out of whoever you need to get her back. Put them in a coma. Carve their hearts out. I don’t care! I need you to fight for her because if she dies… if she dies, I will never forgive you.”

Her heartbeat remains steady throughout. Her words aren’t some overly emotional reaction to the fear of losing a friend, her best friend, but they are the blatant truth. In her heart and her soul, she knows she would never forgive him if you died, and she doesn’t care what he needs to do to get you back. If she could, she would burn the world down herself. 

It’s not romantic love that drives her. She just knows you. She knows you, and she has grown to love you in a way that is hard for outsiders to comprehend—for those who don’t know you. She’s protective of you. She cares about you. She’s your person, and she is yours, even when you hate each other.

She will never stop fighting for you to the best of her abilities, but this is beyond her capabilities. Claire has no choice but to place what little faith she has left, no matter how mangled or broken, in Matt’s calloused hands. She might be furious at him, she might even want to claw his eyes out and sacrifice them to Satan, but she does know he cares. He cares more than most people. And if there is one thing the two have in common it is that they care about you. That has to be enough. 

“Okay,” Matt whispers. 

“Say it,” she commands. 

“I’ll find her,” he says, louder this time. “I promise, I’ll find her.”

He needs to find you. He needs to tell you the truth. He needs to hold you in his arms, safe and sound, just to make sure you’re alive. He needs you to be alive. He prays you’re alive. 

He is sure he’s losing his mind to the smoldering flames of fury. He can’t think, can’t hear anything over the rushing of his blood, and he can’t fucking breathe, but he has to—for you. He has to get it together for you.

So, he does. He takes a deep breath. He pulls the black suit out of the chest under the stairs in his apartment, and he stands on the rooftop until the city has gone quiet, and all that remains is you. 

He is going to find you, and when he does, those who took you will have hell to pay. 

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @thatonegamefish @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia @writtenbyred @echo-ethe @kezibear @peterbarnes @littleagxs @silas-aeiou @scoliobean

[victorluvsalice]

We’ve hit Summer in the Chill Valicer Save, yay! :D Specifically, we’ve hit Summer Sunday, the first day of the season -- which, according to the calendar, was also Prank Day this year! What did my Sims do to celebrate?

Er. . .actually, they just hung around the house. Mostly because I got really busy having them complete a bunch of little goals in and around said house, and -- look, why don’t we just dive right in:

-->First things first -- finally moved those pictures from the Plumbite Pier date they all took on Love Day out from behind the cat tree! Now they’re up in the hang-out room on the third floor, since there was some available wall AND end table space. :) I think they look pretty good there!

-->As for my actual Sims, Smiler started their day practicing some comedy, while Alice was awoken early by a barking Shadow. I decided to have her risk telling the dog to cut it out -- and it actually worked this time, with Shadow learning not to wake up sleeping Sims! Nice. :D However, Alice WAS at full energy and a little hungry to boot, so while Shadow ran off to entertain herself, I had her wolf out and go out for a nice hunt. Victor woke up while she was heading off and got put on “mopping slime creatures/mysterious symbols in the upstairs bathrooms” duty. Fun never stops in a haunted house!

-->Smiler finished off their joke practice while all this was going on -- unsure what else to do with them (as I was trying to let the electrical surplus grow and thus didn’t want them to do anything with electronics just yet), I decided to have them work on their herbalism and prepare some concoctions at the greenhouse cauldron grill! Fortunately, they proved to be much better at it than Guidry and successfully made some deodorant and some soothing skin balm using the supplies in the Herbalism Box, getting all the way up to Herbalism level 4 in the process! Nice! :D And it occurs to me that we should be able to set these for sale at the store too. . . They also took the opportunity to set Elmer on the plants while they worked -- which was good, because a few of them were looking SAD. Look at all those weeds and bugs! O.o What comes when you harvest in a hurry the previous day. . .

-->Victor, meanwhile, was put on pet training duty -- specifically, training Shadow how to fetch! Which -- did not go brilliantly at first, as for some reason Victor kept complaining there was no room inside the house for him to properly throw the ball. Like, that’s a pretty big downstairs hallway/landing area, Victor -- you really can’t find a good place to toss one rainbow ball? *shrug* At least Alice was there to give him some compliments and flirts to distract him from the issue! Even if she was in the middle of eating some raw meat at the time. XD

[triglycercule]

alright!!!! kitchen CLEANED ‼️ carry on PACKED ‼️ now i just need to do my homework and then maybe take a really really really quick (4 hour long) nap before dinner/online class. then i will grind on the silly silly why did i decide to do this animation meme/animatic until 3 am hits and i've gotta hit the port. the AIRport :3

in exchange for my incredible unprecedented productiveness i made this little doodle just now. i'm actually a liar i did this in school but still

[the-lark-ascending69]

Lumity is very cute but it seems like the kind of ship that would have a fandom so toxic it'd make you dislike the ship in time and I think that's sad.

[l0rd-0f-c0ws]

I frequently feel completely isolated no matter how much I talk to people. So that's fun

[mad-hunts]

okay, so from what i've gathered, just for those who uhh. might be curious about what barton's type is for no reason in particular (yeah, it's for shipping purposes JSJSJ ) — he is probably simultaneously the least picky person whenever it comes to who he's willing to date out of all my oc's and i honestly find that kind of ironic, because of the fact that he's literally a SERIAL KILLER but... anyways, like i was saying (,: barton does seem to have a certain penchant for liking people / beings who are literally different in any way? and i mean different in a good way, OFC. oh, and he also seems to have a thing for redheads as well as blondes, but i'm going to be talking about the first thing for today 💀

this could also range from being just like different as in having an 'unusual' appearance / having mutant abilities or being able to practice magic. and, of course, being something a little bit more... significant, i guess you could say. because he would get with a supernatural being and fawn over them in a way that would make you think 'well, maybe they've known each other for a while, so that's why he's acting like he's completely whipped for them?' but nope. in reality, barton just sometimes seems to take one look at a being — who, for example, might be an eldritch horror creature or something — and thinks ' damn. i am in between wanting to study them in a clinical setting and wanting to study this species's courting rituals because i am trying to WIFE them up ' SKSKSK LMAO

nooo, but if any of my moots on here were to want to ship with me if you aren't already, but are nervous about asking me about me whether i'd be interested in doing so because they're like a supernatural creature or something... then please don't be afraid to HMU because barton is literally the most shameless monster hand-holder + monster kisser if i'm being honest

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Me: Hmm, I don't know. I want Ford to be able to express his anger towards Bill, but what if people think I'm writing him as too much of an ass?

Me:

Me: ...That'll just be their problem, I guess. He deserves a little violence as a treat <3

[gyudons]

despicable

updates as of 22 oct

Travis Dermott knew that he would draw attention with his actions in the Coyotes’ home opener against the Anaheim Ducks at Mullett Arena on Saturday. The Arizona defenseman just hoped that the spotlight might shine on the issue that he was addressing, not on him.

“You don’t really want to go against rules that are put in place by your employer, but there’s some people who took some positive things from it,” Dermott said. “That’s kind of what I’m looking to impact.

“You want to have everyone feel included and that’s something that I have felt passionate about for a long time in my career. It’s not like I just just jumped on this train. It’s something that I’ve felt has been lacking in the hockey community for a while. I feel like we need supporters of a movement like this; to have everyone feel included and really to beat home the idea that hockey is for everyone.”

“I won’t lie,” said Dermott, who is playing on a one-year, two-way contract. “From the outside, it’s easy to see that I’m putting my career on the line for something. I definitely went through some emotional ups and downs that night, not regretting anything by any means, but I’d love to have maybe done a couple of steps a little different by making sure that everyone was aware of what was going on before I did it.

“I don’t want to put my teammates or my coaches or my GMs or the equipment managers in any kind of bad light when it’s their job to kind of look out for something like this happening. It was definitely something that I did just by myself and was prepared to kind of deal with whatever repercussions the league decides to push towards that. I’m not going to back off and say that this battle is won, but we’re going to find better ways to do it.”

As Dermott noted, LGBTQ+ inclusion is an issue that he has supported for a long time. Without getting into specifics, Dermott said the issue is personal for him because it impacts people close to him.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t shed tears about this on multiple occasions,” he said. “So yeah, it’s something I’m definitely very passionate about.

“I’ve met a lot of people that from the outside, it looks like they have everything going right in their life and they have a smile on their face every time they talk to you. But sometimes when we get closer to people and get comfortable enough for them to open up to you, you can see that there’s some pretty dark stuff happening to some good people. It doesn’t take too many times encountering something like that for it to really change someone.

“I’ve been blessed to have some of those opportunities put in front of me to really change my view of what being a good person means; what being a good father and a good example and role model means going forward. You really see how people are hurting and it’s because of a system that maybe no one’s intentionally trying to be malicious about, but until you’ve really had that first-person experience seeing people hurting from it right in front of you, it’s tough to kind of take steps.”

It would be a surprise if the league handed down any sort of punishment. The optics alone would add to the public relations damage that the original ban created. Even so, Dermott reiterated his desire to bring the entire franchise into the fold before he takes similar actions in the future, but he also made it clear that he will not be silenced on the topic.

“It’s not like I’m shutting up and going away,” he said. “I know more questions are going to be coming. We’re just going to be as prepared as we can be to just spread love. That’s the thing. It’s gay pride that we’re talking about, but it could be men’s health. It could be any war. It’s just wanting world peace. Everyone’s got to love each other a little bit more.

“Like my parents said growing up, ‘How awesome would it be to be the guy that people look up to?’ That’s what really hit home when I was a kid, especially from my mom. You want to grow up and be that guy. You want to be the guy that’s having the impact on kids like NHL players had on you. If they had been racist or bigoted, that’s going to have an effect on you.

“With how many eyes are on us, especially with the young kids coming up in the new generation, you want to put as much positive love into their brain as you can. You want them to see that it’s not just being taught or coming from maybe their parents at home. They need to see it in the public eye for it to really make an effect.”

[nezuscribe]

being married to gojo is probably such a weird limbo to be in. he doesn’t talk much, but he watches you a lot. the way you move, the way your head tilts back as you laugh unapologetically, the little way your nose scrunches up when you’re confused.

he’s aware of your past, the way you were raised. he knows how much of a black sheep you are, and the more he spends time with you the more he realizes how much you try to hide that.

the way you joke through awkward moments, or the way you tried to hide your expression when somebody doesn’t laugh at something you hoped to be funny are all things gojo has noticed about you.

he knows how you sometimes come down to the training yard, hiding behind a pillar as if a group of men who are trained to be aware of their surroundings wouldn’t spot you from a mile away.

but a part of him likes having you there, puffs his chest out a little more when he disarms someone, his grin a little cheekier when the men praise him of his talent.

though you never really seem to be there for him, despite gojo being your husband. it almost seems like you don’t even want him to know you’re there, making sure to duck your head if he sees you.

until one night, when the men file out and into their quarters, gojo stays behind, in one of the rooms that lead out into the yard, still cleaning up.

his ears prick up when he hears the sound of footsteps, leaving the sword room, expecting to see on of his men, when instead he sees you, looking at the bows littered on the ground.

gojo watches as you pick one up, looking around to see if anybody were there, missing the way gojo was hidden in the shadows, and sees you look around for an arrow.

he wonders what that feeling in his chest it, the one that contracts and loosens whenever you’re near.

he goes back into the shed, picking out some arrows for you and walks to where you were.

“here,” he calls out, and you whip your head around, a look of surprise and embarrassment on your face.

your lips slightly part, shocked that it’s your husband who caught you, and you duck your head a little bit as you quickly go to set the bow back down on the ground.

“sorry,” you quickly say, your eyes trialing at the arrows in his hand in a curious sort of way, “i just wanted to, um, hold one.”

gojo snorts, rolling his eyes at your lie as he picks the bow back up from the ground, wiping some of the dirt from earlier from his hands on his pants as you slowly accept it.

“do you know how to shoot?” he asks, his sturdy figure towering over yours as you stare at him, squinting your eyes a little, and finally shake your head no.

he nods, expecting this as he picks up a bow that was resting on the wall, cocking one of the arrows in the as he shows you what he’s doing.

you’ve spoken to him a bit more as of recently, but never enough for you to think he’d be willing to show you how to use a bow.

“line up your arrow with the bowstring,” he demonstrates, “use your non dominant hand to hold it,” you watch silently as he grips it with his left hand.

you do the same thing, the arrow clumsily sliding around until your able to cock it, holding it loosely with your non dominant hand like he said.

“your dominant hand should hold the string between three fingers,” his slender fingers take it in between and he stretches it, “but make sure your wrist is aligned with your fingers.”

you do the same thing, feeling the resistance from the bowstring as you pull it back.

gojo looks over at your legs and clicks his tongue, clearly not liking what he’s seeing. he sets his own bow on the ground as he comes up from behind you.

“your legs should be like this,” his voice is deep, breath hiting the back of your neck as he nudges your legs apart, separating them until one is in front of the other.

your heart is pounding so loudly against your chest your sure the bow is about to vibrate along with it.

his hand cups your elbow, carefully pulling it back as the string groans under the pressure. you feel like you’re sweating your entire body weight in water off right now.

his eyes are focused on your wrist, holding it gently as he lowers it slightly, and you feel his nose slightly brush against the side of your head.

“don’t focus on the tip of your arrow but the target,” his voice comes out barely audible, but you swallow thickly, nodding.

you try your best to focus on the target that’s in front of you, trying to center the bow with the middle.

“let go when you’re ready,” gojo says, his lips near your ears.

you give it a couple seconds, trying to aim as best as you can, before your hand lets go of the string.

you both straighten your backs up, watching as it flies into the target.

the arrow nearly hits the wood around it, so far away from the target itself that it’s almost comical, and you laugh, tilting your head back as shake your head in embarrassment.

“it’s your first time,” he says, trying to help but you shake it off, missing his warmth from behind you as you set the bow back on the wall.

“and my last,” you promise, missing the way he seemed to deflate.

you turn back to gojo, only to see his eyes it filled with the mirth they had only moments ago, this time focused on your left hand.

you look down, trying to figure out what was wrong.

suddenly, you remember that you had taken off you ring a couple days ago, not finding any use in wearing it.

gojo swallows thickly, a strange lump in his chest as he stares at the arrow you had shot and then back to your face.

“i just figured…” you trailed off, biting your lips as you tried to find the words, “you know…” you motioned to his own left hand, void of any ring.

his eyes are a different hue, as if a storm was brewing inside them.

you watched as he dug his hand inside his tunic, tugging something out. your eyes fall to a delicate gold chain, his wedding ring hanging off of it.

“i don’t want it to fall off during training,” he bites out and suddenly your mouth feels dry.

you nod once, eyes fleeting away from his as you nod again, at nothing and everything, and silently leave.

[so-much-stardust]

so my partner broke up with me

[bunbunlovestowrite]

How the Hashira men react to your neighbor asking you to be quiet

Characters: Tengen, Sanemi, Rengoku, Obanai, Gyomei, Giyuu,

Additional shit: Swearing, Sanemi fighting said neighbor, Rengoku being blunt, mentions of sex, ooc mot likely :p

Tengen

He couldn't care less

His whole thing is being flashy and loud so he wants you to be loud

Like it's not his fault that dick is magical

After he shoos your neighbor away he makes sure to be as loud as possible that night

He's pounding into your cunt and you swear your gonna break when he whispers "okay now scream exactly how big my dick is. Don't forget the tip color-"

He gets cut off by you hitting him with the pillow

Way to ruin the mood

But that doesn't stop him and instead he goes harder, making sure the bed creaks loud ASF for your neighbor

"Not my fault he doesn't know how to please a woman." Is his main reason for doing so

He really wants you to scream his name so it's imbedded in your neighbors head

"Morning N/N!" Him to your neighbor from the balcony while your trying to get out of bed and failing

"Actually die." Both you and your neighbor to Tengen

Sanemi

Cares alot

Why the fuck is that limp dick biscuit talking to you and him? Who does he think he is?

You were the one who broke the news to him thankfully cause if Sanemi was the one who opened the door then you'd have to see your husband through glass in a prison

Just kidding. The Slayer corp would get him out of trouble if he didn't do it himself.

Anyways

Sanemi made it his goal to piss your neighbor off as much as possible

Your under him, practically creaming on his cock, and he's slamming the wall yelling "This loud enough yet?! Huh!?"

Not kidding I can see him doing that

He quite literally had you against a window where your neighbors could see him destroying you just to make them mad or uncomfortable, hopefully both.

But then he'd get pissed someone else would see you all naked and fucked out so he settled for the wall next to the window

One day your neighbor, finally having enough, bangs on your door yelling and guess who opens it...Sanemi!!

Good Lord was he waiting for this

It took one punch and the guy was out

Kinda what happens when you put a normal dude against a guy who kills demons for a living

Rengoku

He's a good neutral between caring and not caring

Like he doesn't wanna make your neighbors mad but he also loves hearing your screams

So he tries to keep you quiet during sex but fails since he gets to into it to give a fuck

The next days his loud ass voice wakes you up

"IM SORRY FOR MAKING INCREDIBLE LOVE TO MY WIFE!" He's not being sarcastic thats his genuine apology

Your facepalming and you want to die when you see your neighbor and she can't look at you

"PERHAPS SHES MAD BECAUSE HER HUSBAND CANNOT PLEASE HER!" Rengoku says casually and you know she can hear you from outside in her garden

"Inside voices!" You place your hands over his mouth to try and shut him up.

It works for a bit before he's yelling again

You love your husband but holy shit you wish he would speak normally sometimes

He's actually quiet in bed though

So your the problem (real)

Obanai

I'm not an Obanai fan so forgive me for how bad his section will be

Obanai is a quiet mf, and you're not even that loud

It's your neighbor who was the problem

A little old man whose hearing aids apparently had the power of 67 suns

You and Obanai found this out when he was outside training and your neighbor came over

He was so sweet and polite and even chuckled at Obanai's redness

Obanai cared at first but got over it

You? You make sure to not make a PEEP in bed

Okay that pisses Obanai off but he understands your reasons

At least make a gasp or sum cause he's over here like "Wait does this feel good? Can she feel it? Did I forget where the clit is?"

Brother is STRESSING

Then you cum and he's like "ah"

Then he's like "Did you take it?"

You have to keep yourself from murdering him cause how tf would you fake squirting

Gyomei

Babe I'm not gonna lie, you're a screamer

Gyomei is built like a house and your telling me your just gonna whine and whimper?

NO

Your over here crying and screaming into his chest, neck, the pillow, anything.

And Gyomei loves it!

He can't see your reactions so hearing and feeling them let's him know he's doing good

Gyomei isn't loud but he's not quiet

He'll grunt and moan and praise you, but he's not gonna cry out.

Well he'll cry but you can never tell from what

When the pussy so good you start crying 😭🙏

When your neighbor politely asked you to be a tad bit quieter Gyomei actually laughed

Not in a 'nah we'll keep being loud' way but more of a 'sorry we'll be quiet' way. He also found it hilarious how you actually died of embarrassment.

Don't worry he thinks its endearing

Yet it was kinda hard for him since he enjoyed hearing you

But your touches and now quieter moans made that better

And then there's also you literally drawing blood from his back you were scratching so hard

Giyuu

Holy shit you have never seen him so embarrassed

Like you could shade match his Haori to him and get the exact same color

He was the one your neighbor told and he stopped working when 'loud' and 'moaning' left their lips

If a demon doesn't kill him then his own actions will

Giyuu isn't loud, and he loves that he can make you feel so good that your loud for him.

But he didn't want your neighbor back over at your house so he tried to keep you quiet

You were super confused when he held his hand over your mouth in bed and he just pointed to your neighbors house. Then you got it.

So you nod and try to keep quiet.

You know in school when the teacher tells you and a friend to shut up but they look at you funny and you break?

Yeah that was you

You were riding Giyuu one night and you were loud so he was like "holy shit I love you but please- I can't look our neighbor in the eyes anymore."

And you couldn't help but laugh

Like howling

You calmed down obviously but sex was very giggle filled after that

You've never seen Giyuu so panicked

But give him a week and he'll stop caring

[klemen-tine]

No Prince Charming

(Batfam x Mom!Reader)

Anonymous asked:

Hello, I really like your work.

I saw that you have an open request, so I want to share an idea that has been sitting in my head for a long time.

Reader married Bruce for convenience. (In my head, the reader is a woman, but I'll leave it to your taste) The wedding takes place shortly before the appearance of the first Robin. Bruce and reader have a cold relationship. Reader comes from the wealthy population of Gotham. Therefore, reader is well educated and intelligent. So after a while, when Dick already appears, reader understands what her husband does at night. But reading doesn't say anything about it or hint at it. The reader doesn't want to get involved in any of this, it scares her. And although the reader is planning a divorce, she takes care of all the members of her new family. And although she is neglected in the family, the reader becomes a parental figure for children. But the children won't admit it. When Damian appears, the reader doesn't say a word to Bruce. But Damian treats reader very badly. And that becomes the trigger. The reader slips Bruce the divorce papers.(not to mention that they are getting divorced, since Bruce is likely to protest) and when Bruce signs them, he leaves the estate, leaving the divorce papers and the wedding ring on the bed when no one notices. And only then does the family realize what they have done with their neglect of reader. Their yandere trait is waking up in them and now they need to somehow find their reader.

Sorry if it's too much.

And I apologize for the English, I am writing with a translator

❤

Warning: Non-consensual drugging, not descriptive sex. It's just mentioned, no details. Hinted at Dick's trauma with his sidekick.

It was a marriage of convenience. That's all it was. Bruce Wayne knew Y/N L/N since childhood, and while they weren’t close, Y/N was the only one who never treated him any differently after his parents were murdered. Maybe it's because her own father was murdered, and she understood that sometimes the greatest support was to act like nothing changed. 

Fast forward to young adults, Bruce Wayne was now Brucie in public, and Y/N was the unstoppable woman leading her own company by the reins. Bruce had come to her with an offer, one that had her brows raised and painted lips smirking. For Bruce Wayne, this will help solidify his position as someone who was not Batman, and for Y/N it would finally silence the hecklers that gnawed at her heels and bit into her shoulders. 

A frigid marriage, filled with cold greetings, Brucie still entertaining women, Y/N still controlling her company with painted lips, and rumors surrounding them. Despite the coldness, Y/N knew a lie when she saw one. She knows a front when she comes face to face with one, and it is why when she saw Batman in the hallways of Wayne manor, staring at her in shock and apprehension, she rolled her eyes and continued to sip her wine as she made her way back to her office. 

“Please don’t stain the carpet. Alfred just shampooed them.” They never brought it up again. Bruce was no Prince Charming, despite the front he put on for strangers. There were no whispered promises, no flowers, no gifts, nothing but ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes.’ 

Then, along came Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson. A child who had blinked up at her with large blue eyes, and Y/N could feel her heart crumble. She had welcomed him with open arms and smiles. She had welcomed all of the Robins in. Her manicured nails getting shorter each time, so she doesn’t have to fear hurting one of them, and her smiles became softer. Y/N had never tried to replace any of their mother’s, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel like one. 

But it was Bruce they had a closer bond with. Which is why they started following his behavior towards her. Clipped words and rolling of eyes were common, as were the cold shoulders and tense silences. 

“You’re not my mom! So stop asking how school was!” Y/N stared at Jason in shock and curiosity about where that outburst had come from. Alfred was the only one to say anything. A stern, “Master Jason,” and a look that had even Bruce cowering had the young boy apologizing. Y/N ignored the way her heart slowly broke, as the quirky child full of smiles, sass, and who loved classics, turned his back on her. 

As if she wasn’t the one to introduce those books to him. 

Y/N doesn’t blame them for their cold behavior towards her. She doesn’t blame Dick’s disregard, Jason’s hurtful words, Tim’s cynical looks, Steph’s taunts, and Damian’s heated actions.  

Y/N had cried at Jason’s funeral, she helped Bruce fight for custody for Tim, she had consoled Dick after some of his own traumatic experiences, and she sat there and listened as Damian compared her and Talia. Talia, of all people. She had met the woman once, and Y/N had nodded at her. Y/N never judged Bruce for sleeping with the woman. Hell, Y/N would have too.  Y/N can recall the day Damian came to their manor, and the short look Dick had given her when she and the child made eye contact. 

Y/N doesn’t know if it was a look of concern or mockery, but she knows he did look. 

She was there for Richard when his trauma with his sidekick happened. He may have never told her, but Y/N is a woman. A woman who has known people that have suffered the same way Dick has. That are still suffering like he is. 

“I’m sorry Richard.” 

“What do you even know?! You know nothing! Absolutely nothing so just butt out!” Dick glared at her with blue eyes that had put the arctic water to shame. Y/N stood there and took it all. She stood proudly with her shoulders back and chin up. 

In public, she was a stoic mother keeping the children in check while Bruce goofed off. She was the woman who failed her children, because she chose to continue running her business. Her very, very, very successful business. A business that had taken her and her mother from the bottom of High Society, to the top 10%. A series of great investments, smart marketing, and pretty words have lined her pockets with money that she could easily retire on. 

Yet, all that money couldn’t save her mother. The woman died of a heart attack, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing Y/N could do besides bury her mother. 

“Bruce please.” 

“I am busy.” 

“I know but Bruce, this is my–” 

“Ask Alfred.” He had turned his back and Y/N was stuck staring at the retreating man with a new feeling of heartbreak. The tabloids ate up that she was alone at her mother’s funeral. A private event that no one was allowed into besides close family and friends. 

When she came back, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped, Damian had picked the time to make his disdain known again, “–and my mother would have never let herself go like that. You look horrid, unbefitting of a Wayne. A disgrace.” 

Blank E/C eyes stared into raging green and she sighed, “Thanks, Damian.” She spared him no glance after that, and she walked towards her bedroom to take a hot shower. It was there, under the hot spray of water that she finally cried. She cried for the last part of family she had, and the years she lost from marrying a man who didn’t even like her enough to attend a godforsaken fucking funeral. She cried for the children she couldn’t even call her own. 

She cried for the life she missed by marrying Bruce fucking Wayne. 

“Honey, are you happy?” 

“Of course Mama.” 

“You never could lie to me sweetie.” Her mother kissed her forehead and looked into E/C eyes with nothing but love, “You’ve worked so hard, sweetie.” That acknowledgement alone had her almost in tears, “But please start working for yourself now.” 

Taking a deep breath, Y/N hopped out of the shower and called her lawyer. Divorce papers were in her hands within 24 hours, and her bags packed in 3. 

She stood next to Bruce, ignoring the scowl on his face as she ‘disrupted’ his work. Y/N kept her face neutral, because if she smiled it would give it all away, and handed him the page he needed to sign. 

For a billionaire and for a vigilante, he sure didn’t read the damn paper. Which is fine. Great even, because now, after being here for over a decade, Y/N is free. She laughed in her room, laughing so hard that it almost tore her throat. Leaving a copy of it on Bruce’s bed once he was gone, she grabbed her suitcase and accidentally ran into Alfred on her way out the door. 

The old man took a look at her clothes, her bags, and her expression before sighing, “Shall I drive you for the last time, Lady Y/N?” Y/N smiled, bitterly at the thought of leaving Alfred, her only solace in this cold mansion. 

“To the airport, please.” The ride was silent, and Y/N didn’t look back as they left the gates of the mansion. It wasn’t until they were halfway there that Y/N spoke up, “My lawyer will call in a few days, just to hash out the details.” 

“Is that so?” 

“There’s nothing I want. No assets, no money, nothing will be taken, I just want a divorce.” She just wants the law to recognize that she is not a Wayne. That she will never be a Wayne. 

“Lady Y/N, perhaps a check for compensation for the emotional strain would be nice?” Y/N laughed, bitterly and sad, “I don’t want his money. I want nothing to do with him anymore.” 

“And the kids?” 

“They don’t need me. They never did. I doubt they will even notice.” Gotham International Airport wasn’t crowded, and that may be because it was 1pm on a Tuesday. Alfred helped her with her bags, and the old man stared at the woman before him. He remembers meeting her for the first time, a confident young woman who had a way with words and was unfairly intelligent. Matching wits and able to speak confidently in a room of people who thought little of her. 

It's good to see some of that coming back. 

Y/N hugged Alfred, “Thank you, Alfred. For everything.” The older man sighed and watched as the woman took her bags and walked away. Not once did she look back and Alfred decided to stay until her form disappeared in the building. He sighed heavily and when got back in the car, he dialed a number he knew by heart. It only took three rings before the voice of the man he raised answered, “Alfred, is everything okay?” 

“Master Bruce, I fear you may have lost something precious, and I do hope you, and the young masters, have a plan to make this up to them.” He hung up afterwards as he merged into traffic, and he hoped his message finally hit something within his son’s dense skull. 

When he returned back to the manor, he began the preparation for making dinner. All was silent throughout the manor, until the door opened and the rush of the footsteps began marching towards him. 

“Master Richard, I urge you to not run.” 

“Bruce told me there was an emergency and to hurry to the manor?” Alfred sighed, “While it is an emergency, it is not one you can fix on your own.” No, this was something for Bruce to fix seeing tha all the problems stemmed from him. 

Dick raised a brow, “What kind of emergency is it?” Alfred pursed her lips, “Miss Y/N Wayne is now Miss Y/N L/N once more.” He turned to look the man he has considered his grandson in the eyes, and he could see the revelation sink in. 

“Y/N divorced Bruce?” Alfred nodded, “The papers have been signed.” 

“Bruce would never sign those papers.” Alfred raised a brow, “They are signed and waiting for him to read.” Dick slowly walked out of the kitchen, “Is she still here?” Alfred turned back to the food and Dick began speed walking towards Y/N’s room. As a child it never occurred to him why they would they never slept together, but as he got older he understood. 

He knocked on her doors, calling her name like he used to as a kid. 

Dick had always understood that Bruce’s and Y/N’s relationship was not one of a couple in love. He also understood that Y/N’s treatment in the manor by the residents of the manor was unfair. Whenever he could, he would correct Damian’s harsh words, but even he himself couldn’t fully bring himself to be all that kind to her. 

He tried. He desperately tried, because he saw all that she did for them behind the scenes. He saw the mistreatment and judging looks others would give her as her ‘husband’ was out fooling around. 

Dick saw the blank look she had given Damian after her mother’s funeral. The one none of them had gone too. 

“What do you mean you didn’t go?” His voice panicked as he talked to Tim, “I didn’t go. I was under the assumption someone else would go.” 

Y/N could have been Gotham’s biggest bitch, but not even then would she have deserved that. What made it worse was that Y/N was not a bitch. She wasn’t cruel, or unkind. She was as much of a philanthropist as Bruce was. Always aiding those whose needed it and desperately trying to make Gotham a better place. 

Dick opened her doors and was greeted with an empty room. Gone were the picture frames, and the closet was empty along with the bathroom. Her prized jewlery, the things she took care of almost obsessively, all of it was gone. 

He could remember beng 9 and sitting next to her as she cleaned one of her sapphire earrings. Thin fingers with long nail held the earring next to him, a scrutinizing look on her face before she would break out into a grin, “As I thought, nothing could ever compare to our Dickie’s sapphire eyes.”

“Holy shit.” 

“What’s going on- why is Y/N’s room empty?” Tim looked throughout the room, and Dick could see the wonder across his younger brother’s face. Right, between all of them, Tim and Y/N had the least amount of time spent together. 

Dick stared at his brother as the image of Y/N smiling at a string of pearls entered his mind. She had explained to him when he asked that pearls, while feminine, also symbolized new beginnings. She had gotten it when Tim’s custody was signed over to the Waynes. 

“She’s gone.” Tim met Dick’s eyes, “Like… taking a vacation gone?” Dick gave a humorless chuckle, “She divorced Bruce, Tim. Y/N is gone.” This must have been what Alfred saw when he broke the news to Dick. The confusion and then realization coming to light in those blue eyes. 

“Bruce would never sign those papers.” Dick had said the same thing, and yet here she was. Gone. As if to emphasize his point, Dick made an exaggerated expression and motioned to the empty room. 

Tim looked around and he could feel a headache forming, “Bruce is gonna be pissed.” Dick groaned, “Fuck Bruce for a second, the only stable-mentally healthy-adult figure that isn’t Alfred is gone, Tim.” The boy didn’t look all that bothered, “Well, if she’s happier then I don’t mind.” 

Of course he doesn’t mind. Why? Because this little stalker most likely knows where she’s going. Tim did a good job hiding it, but Dick was raised by Bruce. He is trained to spot the mciroexpressions of people, and even if they are his own siblings. 

Tim is panicking. The very thought of Y/N leaving had not once occurred to them, and for Tim who loves planning, this was not once ever in the plans. 

Not once. Y/N had been a staple within the manor, and to imagine her not being here was rough. Evenw hen she left for business trips, it was fine because they all knew she was coming back. SHe would come back with souvenirs, handing each of them something that reminhded her of them, before running upstairs to get out of the family’s judgemental line of sight. 

“Fucking hell.” 

++++

Bruce entered the condo with ease. His steps light as he walked through the dark room, noting the all the furniture. There was no Y/N in the living room or kitchen, but when he looked out the balcony door, he could see her back. She was leaning against the edge of the infinity pool, without doubt a hot tub of some sorts because it was too cold to be swimming in a regular pool. 

She didn’t even turn around to look at him, her attention focused on the view of the snowy mountains and raging seas in front of her. Bruce could see the wine bottle left on the side of the pool and the glass that looked like it was finished only a short while ago. When she did turn around, E/C reflected the stars and dimly lit light around the pool, making them shine and sparkle like they were the galaxy.

Bruce isn’t blind. He knows Y/N is an attractive woman who had many people lusting after her even when they were married. Talia even made a note of it, “You should see if she wants to join next time.” He should have known that his clipped response was a sign. 

It was all there, and yet he did everything within his power to ensure that he would not fall in love with her. Falling in love has always been out of the question, and when Y/N came into his life, Bruce made it his mission to do just that. The woman before him had never complained, and she never seemed to fault him for it, but he could tell there was resentment. If he couldn’t have allowed himself to fall in love with her, he could have at least offered her friendship. One that made life more bearable for the both of them, and set a good example for the kids. 

“What are you doing, Bruce?” She didn’t seem shocked that he was here, let alone in her vacation condo. Bruce took off his shirt and pants, stripping down to his boxers before joining her in the hot tub. He had grabbed two glasses of wine before doing so, handing her one and taking a sip from the other. 

 “Is it wrong of me to want to join my wife on her vacation?” 

“Ex-wife. The documents are signed, and besides this is a girl trip.” Bruce re-read those documents and kicked his foot for not fucking reading them when he first signed them. He should have known she was up to something. 

“Y/N, come back to the manor.” He stared into E/C eyes as she took another sip of the wine. Bruce had come with a speech prepared, ready to convince her to come back with him, but it was all lost as he stared and observed the woman in front of him drink delicately from the glass. Y/N L/N has always been a woman of class, even when she was near the bottom of high society. It wasn’t her good looks that landed her in the top 10, possibly even top 5%, and like every classy woman, she was only allowed to regret a few things. Their marriage is one, but leaving is not even an option on the list of things she wants to regret but can’t. 

He knows this. She knows this. 

And yet, Bruce could only focus on how beautiful she looks, and how beautiful she would look sprawled on the silk bed sheets. Y/N has aged like fine wine, looking even more beautifully and worth more and more with each passing year. Aging gracefully and beautifully as the years passed and still catching the attention of others. 

It's a shame his younger self was more into whiskey than wine. 

He wonders how different their relationship would be if he had gotten to know her before and during the early years of their marriage. Without a doubt it would be easier to talk to her. Easier to convince her to come back to a manor that now misses her.

“And why should I?” It’d be easier to answer her with a compelling reason, one that would have her actually debating on whether or not to come back. Bruce reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, and he’s shocked that she even let him do that. She didn’t flinch, nor did she lean into his touch. Y/N stood still as he moved the H/C lock behind her ears. 

“The manor misses you.” He’s never heard her laugh the way she did in that moment. Throwing her head back and exposing unblemished skin to the night air as she laughed, and continued to laugh. Her shoulders shaking from the force and slightly distilling the wine. 

Once she was done, her cheeks were red from the laughter and she was gasping for breath, “Yeah, okay. So Alfred misses me, I’ll make sure to give him a call then.” She turned her back to Bruce and began walking towards the edge of the pool. 

“The boys, girls, and I do too.” Chateau Petra was on his lips and the feeling of cold wine hitting his face and upper chest had him closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them, Y/N’s wine glass was empty and on her face was a hard expression. Cold E/C eyes glaring into his as she pulled herself out of the pool, and grabbed the rest of the wine bottle. 

“Sleep on the couch. You’re going home tomorrow.” Her steps quiet as she stalked into her home and she headed for the bathroom. Bruce sighed, and stared at the night sky with a new look in his eyes, ‘Desperate times call for desperate measures.’ He would like to believe that he is above this. He wants to believe that this was the worst case scenario happening and therefore this needs to happen. 

Has to. The very thought of Y/N being away caused an itch to form under his skin and a burning fire in his chest. A fire he never knew blazed in him until it went out. Now, more aware and protective of it, Bruce found himself craving the warmth in ways that had his mouth foaming and muscles tensing. He looked down at the water and saw the red wine diluting and sprawling throughout the pool water, looking like blood for only a second. 

A smile curled on his lips and he pulled himself out of the pool water, drying himself off before making his way into the shower with his ‘ex-wife.’ They may have never been lovers, but they were two adults living under the same roof. 

So, of course they have had sex. 

Hate sex is the best and worst sex. It is the best because Bruce can go as hard as he wants to and Y/N will love it. It is the worse because hate sex is all Y/N will see this as. Y/N will only see it has hate sex and not for the love Bruce feels for her. She won’t feel it in the way he caresses her skin or in the way he leaves his bite marks on her thighs. All Y/N will see this as, is hate sex. 

Which is fine. If hate sex is what Y/N needs to see this as to work then Bruce will take it. He has time. He has plenty of time to show her how much he cares and loves her. Those divorce papers will be long gone, every single one of those copies non-existent. He loves her. He loves her in the way a cactus loves the sun, or how the stars love the moon. 

Bruce was so enamored by her, that he couldn’t help but to fall deeper. Her soft hands, that have never broken a bone but have broken many hearts, cradling scarred shoulders and sharp cheeks. She didn’t flinch when his own rough hands gripped her’s, bruising and secure, and she didn’t flinch when intense blue eyes met hers. In fact, she smiled, like this was all a joke he was the butt of it. 

It pissed him off that even she could have secrets and inside jokes that he doesn’t know about. As she laid there, her eyes now closed and body relaxed, Bruce pulled out a syringe filled with something that will keep her asleep. Only for a few days. Barbara is already working on getting rid of the divorce papers and the kids were preparing for her return. 

Bruce kissed her forehead, smiling down at his Sleeping Beauty. If need be, the manor will be her castle and the kids her vines covered in thorns. Bruce, in all his daunting and terrifying glory shall be the dragon, keeping her locked within her castle because nowhere was safer than the castle. Only she could keep him calm, and only she could make him feel human. 

Batman was never Prince Charming.

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Not my best work in my opinion... but I still like tbh.

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