#sorry to rant on side but i had to scream into a void somewhere

[letters-from-the-gaps]

The Angel

The jumbled corpses of a thousand satellites twirl and dance through geostationary orbit above this little blue planet. Did you know that? Do you know how fast they waltz, too far to be in the atmosphere yet not far enough to truly be free? No? Me neither. There’s a lot I don’t know. Up here, the stars hang still, and the Earth spins faster than you can possibly comprehend. Eventually, this graveyard of humanity’s many forays into the great void will turn to dust and sand and microscopic particles of metal and fiberglass and circuitry: they’ll slam against each other over and over, dashing against rocky shores of their own making, until they stretch across the whole of planet Earth. Nothing will ever leave, then. Imagine that. A rocket rises through the air, piercing the heavens, finally reaching for the cold and empty and crushing void, only to be torn asunder by the angry ghosts of its forefathers. 

The stars are mostly dead, too. Oh, sure, a good number of them are still burning, somewhere out there in the black. But most of them ate themselves up long, long ago. Maybe longer than I’ve existed- though I frankly doubt that. A thousand thousand years ago, a star collapsed on itself, crushed by its own inexorable gravity, screaming and retching light and neutrinos and radiation far and wide. Some of those stars held planets, you know. Trapped in the same gravity well that would be their eventual doom, the only thing those worlds could do was look at the end and accept that there was no escaping. Some of them faced their death with nobility. Most of them ate themselves alive trying to escape. Maybe some of these pinpricks of light are worlds, you know? Maybe one of those stars is really the desperate final cry of a world swallowed by star-fire. Shattered by light. The very same light we see today, still racing outwards from a corpse, still trying to reach the edge.

Oh, did you not know? Of course there’s an edge, silly! Where do you think the far far far worlds go? When the universe expands, it pushes out like the fissure between tectonic plates. There’s no malice behind it: it simply does what it must. It’s an unfortunate way to die, to be sure. Watching the stars get dimmer and dimmer, until you hit the edge. Some called it the gateway to the other side. Do you want to know a secret, though?

There is no other side.

Me? Oh, I’m just hanging around, waiting for the graveyard to disintegrate, as it were. I could try to explain what I am, where I came from. I could try to communicate to you details about my home, about the endless sky, the ever-hungry void, the vast seas. I could try to describe the endless screaming static of the stars, could try and transcribe their whispers and frothing rants. But I don’t think I could do it justice. Also, it would probably fry your brain.

What am I? Old, for one. Older than old, older than dust, old enough to remember when this planet was all fire and smoke. Yet I am also young, especially when compared to my kin. Now, those are some ancients. A few of them predate the Big Bang, apparently. Forgive me, I didn’t really answer your question. I don’t think there’s a real word for it, in your- wait! I remember! Gabriel brought the word back a little while ago: Angel. I’m an angel.

What, not what you expected? No offense taken, don’t worry. Those of us who first came here- like Garbriel- had a little more...Why am I explaining this to you? Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but do you really understand what I’m saying? I know you comprehend what I’m saying, but do you understand? 

…

…

Hello?

…

…

…

Oh. Ok. If it’s...If it’s any consolation, Earth isn’t slated to bite it for a long, long time. I know that kind of rings hollow. I’m sorry about that. 

…

…

…

…

…

…

Sorry.

[navegandoaciegas]

Broken Wings {2/2}

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Reader

Summary: You’re a small town girl with big city dreams, set on leaving Knockemstiff and its Sheriff behind for good. Lee Bodecker would do anything to make sure you stay with him.

Warnings: smut, explicit language, non-con, breeding kink, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, overall dark themes, kind of a slow build up to the nasty.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I’ve had an eventful couple of days. This is part 2, read part 1 here.

The adrenaline that rushed through your veins blocked out the pain in your body and the noises around you. Your breathing came out in short, panicked huffs as you sprinted through the woods, Lee hot on your heels.

You thought back to the past 12 hours, and how they’d changed your life.

Leaving Knockemstiff and boarding a bus for New York, with your big dreams and a small bag. Almost reaching Pennsylvania’s border before your hopes were snatched away. Lee chasing said bus, blasting the sirens of his patrol car and pulling the driver over. The dread that settled in your stomach when you met his enraged stare, your hopes of a better life shattering in a million pieces, the anger and humiliation that had filled you when he’d dragged you, kicking and screaming, out of the bus, under the judgemental or pitying stares of the passengers.

“You can’t run from me, dove.”

His voice echoed in the woods, tantalizing and terrorizing you all the same. You’d managed to bolt away and hide in the woods before he could handcuff you, but you hadn’t made it too far before he’d found you.

In the event that he’d ever caught you, you’d imagined that he’d fall on his knees and beg you to stay. Lee dragging your ass out of the bus like any drunk bastard he’d escorted home after a fight was certainly not the reaction you’d expected.

You pushed the branches out of your face, feeling a new tear in the skin of your cheeks whenever you’d barrel through a bush. You had no idea where you were going, all you knew was that you had to keep running until your feet bled. Hide. Disappear.

Just a couple more miles and you’d find another town, you could catch a bus then, and maybe you’d be safe-

One second you were sprinting through the trees, and the next your foot was caught in an exposed root, and you tumbled down the slope with your arms stretched out to protect your face.

You hissed in pain when you lifted your palms from the ground. Debris stuck to the abrasion, and it burnt and stung when you flexed your hands. You tried standing up, but fell back among the leaves, feeling lightheaded.

You registered some more cuts on your knees, but you couldn’t tell whether it was blood or tears that streamed down your face.

The branches contorted around you, and the shadows they casted danced around the edges of your vision.

New York, new life, new beginning. Your mom’s smile in her Sunday dress when she’d waved you off. The stench of alcohol in Lee’s breath when he’d caught on the bus.

You thought you’d heard a voice call your name in the distance before your vision went dark, and you let the void envelop you.

-

The sky had turned dark when Knockemstiff’s rusty welcome sign came into view, and he hadn’t spoken a word to you since you’d woken up in his car, with his dark leather jacket draped over your shoulders and bandages on your bruised skin.

You’d stopped sobbing, and you’d run out of pleads, apologies, and tears.

For the first time in your life, you were afraid of him.

His car pulled to a stop in a deserted parking lot. He killed off the engine, and clenched his jaw, inhaling a deep breath before he spoke.

“What was goin’ through that dumb head of yours, sweetie? What made you think you could up, and fuckin’ leave me like that?” he bit through gritted teeth, chest heaving. “One of the boys called me this morning, said he heard your mother talk about you to one of her old hags, babblin’ ‘bout leaving for good, New York, a job.”

He let out a bitter laugh, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

“He thought she’d finally done lost her goddamn mind. Ain’t no sheriff’s girl leaving town for good, he said.”

“I’m sorry, Lee, I should've told you, I was selfish-”

“Yes, you fuckin’ were, fuckin’ selfish is what you are.” he screamed, and you jumped in surprise, because he’d never raised his voice at you.

“I’m sorry, I can’t give you what you want. I don’t want that. You know I don’t belong here Lee, just lemme go, forget all about me.” you pleaded once again, voice small and broken.

He stayed silent for a moment after your little rant, before bursting into a fit of laughter. His body shook with the vibration, and he clutched his stomach, as if no joke had ever sounded so fun in his ears.

“Forget about you? Sweetie, you know I can’t do that. I love you too much.”

“If you love me, let me go Lee, I’m begging you. Please.” you sobbed, gripping his hands in yours, hoping your wobbling lips would move him.

He sighed, and enveloped your hands in his warm ones, bringing them to his lips. He left a trail of kisses from the inside of your wrists to your knuckles.

“Come with me, then. Leave this shitty place behind for good, Lee. Ain’t nothing good’s come out of ‘ere anyways.”

You thought you’d seen his resolve break. You thought he’d choose you for once. Choose you over his thirst for power.

“You know I can’t do that,” he snapped, raising his voice again, “I’m so close to gettin’ myself elected, the campaign is going well, I can’t give up now.”

“Can’t or won’t?” you pressed, anger hardening your stare.

He held your gaze for a moment before looking ahead, eyes unreadable for the first time since you’d met him.

“You know I’m selfish too,” he shrugged.

He reached for his belt, and held up the metal handcuffs, wordlessly securing them around your wrists, ignoring your protests.

“Just stay here.” he grumbled before swinging the door open.

The cold, unyielding cuffs dug in your wrists as you attempted to tug them free from the metal hook on the dash where they were attached to.

It was useless, but it made you feel like you were actually trying. You were mad at Lee, of course, at whoever had tipped him off, and at yourself.

Especially at yourself for your wistful thinking, for convincing yourself that Lee would have given up on you as you’d had on him. For not running fast enough, being strategic enough.

You huffed in annoyance when the metal hook refused to give in, and fell back on the headrest with a groan.

Your calves and shins were sore from your crazy sprint in the woods, and the palms of your hands were scraped from your fall. Lee had cleaned the cuts, but they still stung when you’d inadvertently brush them against each other.

You were mostly unscathed, except for your wounded pride.

You wished your glare could incinerate Lee on the spot when he opened the door to the driver’s seat with a smirk on his lips. The car creaked and swayed when he sat down.

“Fries and vanilla shakes, your favorite.” he announced, opening up the brown paper bag on his lap.

“I’m not hungry.” you mumbled, turning your head to observe the diner’s feeble neon lights in the distance.

Your stomach chose that moment to betray you, and let out a growl when the waft of fried food reached your nose. You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and you were starving.

“Your tummy seems to think otherwise, dove.”

You used to think that his cocky loopsided grin gave a youthful glow to his face, but now you couldn’t help but hate the satisfaction it oozed.

“Open up.” he chirped, a handful of fries in his hands.

You rolled your eyes, sighing to yourself. “You’re not actually going to do that, are ya? Just uncuff me, Lee.

“I won’t uncuff you until I’m sure I can trust that you won’t run off on me, dove. Might take a while, tho. Now open up.”

You parted your lips, deciding that this one wouldn’t be the hill you’d choose to die on. Glaring at him, you took a bite out of the fries. He hissed when your teeth snapped hard against his fingers, but let out a chuckle seeing you in the state you were in, amused by your pathetic struggle.

“Good girl.” he praised you, feeding you some more like you used to do on those long nights patrolling the streets. Back when feeding each other was an act of love, not a humiliating punishment.

“So how was your little trip in Ohio, sweetie? Enjoyed the fields?”

He hummed when you refused to speak, and brought the milkshake to your mouth, studying your lips as they closed on the striped paper straw, and your cheeks hollowing when you sucked.

“Could’ve drove you myself if you’d asked. Could’ve brought you somewhere nice on holiday this winter. Someplace outside of Ohio.” he continued, taking a sip for himself, “Maybe we can go to a beach on our honeymoon, whaddya say, huh?”

You snorted at his audacity, almost inhaling the milkshake.

“What honeymoon are you talking about, Lee? Ain’t no way I’m marrying you now.”

He shook his head again, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Yes, you are, dove. You are marrying me.”

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head as you gave him an incredulous look. Had you been blinded by love, or was he showing his true colors now?

“What, you’re gonna drag me by the hair and force me to sign the papers? Don’t think the preacher or the fine citizens of this shitty fuckin’ town are gonna like that too much.”

You scoffed, feeling your vision blur with tears again.

Lee levelled his face with yours, eyes darting between your own. You’d never noticed the darkness in him, and it made your heartbeat spike for all the wrong reasons.

“I don’t need to drag you, dove. You’re gonna come to that altar with a smile on these pretty lips. And you know why?” he whispered in your ear, and you felt a shiver go down your spine.

His calloused hand caressed your thigh, slowly hiking up your pleated skirt. “Because I’m finally gonna put a child inside you tonight, and nothing’s gonna stop me.”

Before you had time to react, or panic, he’d climbed to the passenger’s side, caging you in with his large body. He slanted his mouth against yours, forcing his tongue between your lips that you’d parted in a surprised gasp.

You pushed your shoulders against his, trying to pry him away, but he groped you relentlessly. Panic gripped you when you realized you were bound and at his mercy, and he wasn’t joking about his intentions.

“Gonna keep you chained until I knock you up, dove. Keep you in my house, can’t trust that mother of yours,” he huffed between kisses, hands roaming over your body.

“Stop, Lee, have you lost your goddamn mind? Don’t fuckin’ touch me, you asshole. Lemme go.”

You managed to kick his stomach, but in the frantic haze that had overcome him, he barely took notice, continuing his exploration of your body.

You shrieked when his hand dipped in your panties, and to your utter shame, found them soaked.

“You really want me to stop? Because your pussy is telling me a whole ‘nother story, sweetie. Feel how wet you are for me, you like this, don’t ya?”

He brought his finger to your lips, forcing your mouth open until you’d sucked him clean of your juices. He hummed when he dipped down and kissed you again, tasting your arousal on your tongue.

Your teeth snapped on his bottom lip until you’d drawn blood, and he released you with a hiss. His hand gripped your jaw, and tears began blurring your vision.

You couldn’t find adoration, love, and care in his eyes, only cruel determination.

The screams you let out sounded like a muffled gargle.

“Scream all you want, no one’s gonna hear you, and if they do, what’re they gonna say to me? I’m the sheriff sweetie, I’m the law. You were just stupid enough to think you could escape me.”

You pushed, kicked, screamed, thrashed until the metal cuffs had scrubbed your skin raw, fighting the hands that were pushing your bra down until your tits spilled out.

His fingers grazed your heated skin like they’d done a million times before, staining your loving memories forever.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re gonna look so good with my baby inside you, all round and swollen.” he groaned, nipping at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, sucking on the skin hard enough to hurt you, “All the men in this town are gonna be jealous of me. Might have to keep you locked up all the time.”

You couldn’t deny the throbbing in your core when his tongue licked a stripe behind your ear, nor the arousal soaking through your panties when slid his hand over the hair on your mound, teasing you.

“Gonna keep these tits full of milk for a long time sweetie.”

You moaned when his thick fingers breached your entrance, feeling the pressure build up as he kept pumping them in and out of you. He kept his thumb on your clit, the way he knew you liked, until you were so sensitive and overstimulated that you couldn’t tell pain and pleasure apart.

“You can never leave me, never again. Don’t you understand, I’m nothing without you. I need you.”

He played your body so well that it made you sick.

“Please Lee,” you panted, clenching your jaw to suppress your wanton sounds, “Don’t do this. There’s no turning back from this. Please.” you pleaded, lips wobbling.

“That’s the point,” he huffed, struggling to fit in the space between the passenger’s seat and the dashboard.

He forcefully spread your legs open, making a quick work of ripping your cotton panties to shreds. Bringing his face down to your glistening cunt, he inhaled a deep breath before delving into your folds, tongue lapping at your juices. The lewd, slurping sounds soon mixed with your moans that you could no longer keep in.

By that point you didn’t know if you were fighting to keep his head where it was or to rip it out of his neck.

“You taste like heaven, so fuckin’ sweet.” he grunted before latching onto your bud, hollowing his cheeks arount it as he sucked you off.

Fireworks went off in your lower belly when pleasure exploded inside you. Waves of pleasure crashed through your body, rendering your limbs limp and heavy.

All rational thoughts thrown out the window, you melted into his body when he surged forward to slant his lips against yours. He swallowed your moans with his hungry kisses, cradling your face like the most precious artifact.

It felt wrong, yet so right. He was still Lee. Your Lee. The one who’d drive and sing with you, who’d found your dad a job after he’d lost it, who’d made love with the most care unlike any other man who’d ever laid a finger on you.

At least, that’s what you tried telling yourself when he pushed his hard, leaking cock inside your swollen cunt, and your body welcomed him in your warmth without any fight.

You both snarled when he sheathed himself inside you.

“I love you so much sweetie, I can’t lose you again.”

It was wrong and dirty, but it was okay to feel good because it was your Lee between your legs.

He hoisted your legs over his shoulders and slumped against the seat. His cock reached deeper than you thought possible, and you felt every ridge and veins slide over your walls.

Teeth clattering, bruising touches. You ached to touch him, maybe claw his eyes out or caress his chubby cheeks.

Electricity jolted every nerve ending on your body, and the next words he whimpered in your ear would have been a cold shower, had you not been so far gone already.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum inside you, dove, fill you up with my cum over and over again until I’m sure I’ve put a baby in you. Fuck-”

He snapped his hips harder against yours, thrusting his cock in and out of you. Your cunt quivered around him, gripping him tightly. He pushed you over the edge over and over again, until you were a drooling mess who couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore.

“I told you sweetie, it’s only a matter of time.” He punctuated each world he panted in the crook of your neck with a harsher thrust of his hips. “Ain’t no more parking lots, just a big ole bed. Yeah, people like me in this town, you know that, dove. I’ll get myself elected-, get a- cushy place up on Brewer Heights. We’ll be happy, have kids and all. My pretty wife, fuck- every man in this shitty town will envy me.”

You bucked your hips against his, wildly chasing your release. He could feel another one of your orgasms near by the way you clenched around him.

“Fuck-, God, you’re squeezin’ me. Fuckin’ cum on ny cock dove, I want to feel you come all over me, make a mess on me.”

You pushed out the muscles of your pelvis, and the intensity of your pleasure almost blacked you out again as you gushed all over him, soaking through your skirt onto the seat.

His cock swelled and twitched, and he released himself inside you, painting your walls with his hot spurt. The feeling was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, a fullness you never thought you could experience.

Your chest heaved as you slumped on the seat, arms aching and wrists scrubbed raw.

His cock softened inside you, and he watched enthralled his seed spill out of your cunt, your abused hole still clenching around nothing.

“Jesus, I hope it takes, dove.”

He droned some more, but you’d stopped listening. You kept staring ahead, letting him dress you back again like a motionless doll.

Had you been more aware, you would have seen the shadow of guilt creep on his face, soon replaced by cool determination when he blinked the tears away and hardened his stare once again.

Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore.

Static noises interrupted his actions.

“Any cars around-...got a call from Hawk at the bar- anyone can check that out?”

“Fuck,” he groaned, picking up the radio, “I wanted to go at it a few more times, just to make sure.”

Minutes, or maybe hours, passed by in a blur. You had no idea where you were, or how long it’d been since he dragged you back in this hellhole.

New York, a new job, a new beginning. It all seemed so far.

There was only one thing you knew for sure.

“I’m getting out of ‘ere again, Lee.” You murmured in a daze, “I’m getting out and God himself couldn’t stop me if he tried.”

Drained of all energies, you let the soothing sway of the car lull you to sleep.

Lee sighed to himself, watching you so defensless, bound at his mercy. He’d take care of you until the end of his miserable life, and protect you from everything, even yourself.

“I'm the only God here, sweetie, and I can assure you, you’re not going anywhere.”

Afterall, his dove couldn’t fly away from him with broken wings.

-

I hope you enjoyed this! Please, leave some feedback. It means the world to me! 💓

[fvrxdrm]

.•*Friends to Lovers on Holidays with Leon Kennedy*•.

Happy Single Asses’ Day!!!

Pairing: Modern!Leon x F!Reader

Warning(s): NSFW

*****

“Cheers to us single fuckers!”

The clinking of wine glasses subtly intertwined with the voices of the actors in a horribly-done “horror” movie that was running on the television as you and Leon briefly joined them together before letting the tang of sweet, bitter, and sour wine hit your tongues. And when they did, you moaned in satisfaction.

“Not bad.”

“It better not be. This shit costed, like, $100.”

Leon grabbed the wine bottle in front of him and went on to refilling yours and his glasses respectively.

“My wallet’s fucking crying,” he continued.

“Hey, don’t bullshit me now. Jack Daniel’s costs $50.00 and I don’t hear you complaining. And from what I remember you buy five of ‘em,” you retorted back hitherto taking a small sip of your drink.

“For your information I only buy one bottle now. Had the president not let us quit going on missions your statement would’ve been correct.”

It was true. Ever since the New York incident, bioterrorism had gone down and those rare times where an occurrence would go down somewhere in a small region on earth the BSAA would be sent, sometimes even bringing one of the newer DSO agents to help them with the cases. And so, with the conclusion that the count was dying at a leisure pace, the government decided there was no need for their veteran agents to be sent on missions unless they were lethal and needed someone who was as exceedingly experienced as you on the field and sanctioned both you and Leon to only do office work until further notice.

“I mean, yeah, true… Pass me the bowl?” With eyes still glued to the T.V., Leon reached out to grab ahold of the large bowl of popcorn and blindly looked for your hand until he finally felt the bottom of the bowl touch a surface, letting it go once he felt the weight shift lighter.

  “This is bullshit. Who the fuck just crawls on the ground after tripping while the killer is literally right behind them? Like, fucking 5 inches away from them! I would’ve stood up and ran.”

The movie had been going for about half an hour now and Leon couldn���t be more amused at how you reacted at every scene where the characters’ brains seemingly flew out of their heads. He wasn’t paying attention to the film. He’d watch this way, way, way, way back anyway and he knew how stupid it was so he just entertained himself by listening to your rants and laughing (also getting smacked every now and then).

“Oh my god! Why the fuck does she keep screaming?”

“You know what, I wouldn’t care if he gets killed.”

“Of course, the phone just had to be dead.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now!? Why the fuck are you making out while a psycho is literally out there to sheesh kebab you?”

“Oh my god, I just lost my brain cells.” And so on and so forth…

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Leon muttered with a smirk, popping a chip in his mouth as he turned his gaze towards the movie.

“Well, I didn’t know it was that bad. I thought it was one of those movies that are so bad they’re good,” you defended as you swigged the rest of the wine that filled a portion of your glass. Your friend just snickered in response, stretching his arms and legs and smiled in fulfilment once he heard the crack of aging bones and staring narrow-eyed at the credit screen in front of him.

Words became trapped inside your heads. You didn’t know what to do from here. The only thing you planned was watching a movie for Valentine’s day – or Single Asses’ day as you call it – and fight shy of anything revolving around romance whether it be some sort of song or movie or something.

You both had been unlucky when it came to romance and intimacy. The closest you had to love were some one-night stands with random strangers and even that was far away from said emotion. Your jobs were complicated and when you both had started in the agency years after the Raccoon City incident, it already began taking a toll on your heads and continued to up until the incident in New York. And so, relationships were the last thing you worried about. Though, that didn’t mean your hearts wouldn’t race every once and a while. Truth be told you caught feelings halfway through your career, both of you. You sometimes entertained the idea of you and your best friend being together while he had conflict between you and Ada. Both of you were people he couldn’t let go of but he felt like one was superior to the other and his brain scrambled around for a bit until the day he almost lost you. It was the day disease almost took over the world: Tall Oaks and China. That was the day he realized just how much you meant to him.

“So, um… I should go now. I’ll see you around.” Leon stood up from the couch and was about to head out your apartment door until he felt something warm enclose around his wrist. He turned around to find your pretty face looking sheepish and pleading – pink creeping from your neck to the tip of your ears.

“I-it’s already late and I… I don’t think you’re in the right condition to drive. You can stay here if you want.” The blush on your face darkened even more and your eyes suddenly found interest on your tiled floor, your grip around Leon loosening. Seeing as how abashed you looked right now, he playfully simpered and decided hey, I teasing is fun!😀

“You don’t think I can drive myself home while drunk? Haven’t you seen me in action back in New York?” He spoke.

All enervation and intoxication suddenly voided out of your body; eyes bulging out of their sockets as his statement caught you unwary for a second. Incoherent words stumbled out of your mouth and none were piecing together to form an acceptable response.

“I’m just playing. I get your intentions. You seriously need to chill the fuck out,” Leon finally said after a few enough rambles were pitched into the room ceaselessly.

Your shoulders sagged and the tension that rapidly built up in you were unfettered in a matter of seconds. “Jesus,” you murmured. “You know how I get when I’m drunk.” Leon continued in his bursts of loud laughter and it only made you sink into your seat even more.

“I’m sorry… You’re just so freaking cute!”

Whoops… Didn’t mean for that to come out…

Leon’s fit of hysterics died down in a trice, feeling like a twelve-year-old whose embarrassment was so immense after getting rejected and being made fun of in front of the whole school that he’d rather melt in a puddle where he can be forgotten.

“I-I’m sorry. That just…flew out of nowhere. I- “

“It’s fine. At least I’m not the only tomato here, right? And um… Thanks… For the compliment,” you said, face burning another 100°C.

“Well, uh,” Leon scratched the nape of his neck and shoved his free hand in his pockets where each of his fingers twiddled with one another, “wanna chat?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be bed anytime soon, unless you’re really tired.”

“No, I’d love for you to accompany me tonight,” he replied.

“Okay, come back here you himbo.” You patted the empty space on the couch Leon previously sat on and smiled at him once he made himself comfortable with his feet resting on your coffee table and hands finding contentment in providing itself as a pillow for his head. “So, how’s life?”

  “Okay, okay…fine I’ll…haha…do it.”

A few minutes had passed, talking being the only thing you’d done up until Leon tackled and attacked you with tickles on your sides.

“You, Leon Scott Kennedy,” a giggle fell past your lips, “are…”

“Are?”

“…a fucking…idiot!” Leon fell in a daze at your words and while he was at it you took advantage of his vulnerability and shoved him down to the floor with you collapsing on top of him. Only when he felt the softness of your carpet and the hardness of your floor did he bring himself out of his stupor.

“You sneaky little shit-“ He was about to place both of his hands on your waist and flip you two over when his wrists were suddenly grabbed and pinned above his head not even a second after he blinked.

“Uh uh, not so fast. You really think you could get away with this, don’t you?” A smug grin pulled the corners of your lips. Leon sighed.

“Fine, you win.”

Silence had taken over the room once more, the muffled chirping of crickets outside the closed windows the only sound filling in the missing gaps. Though the light that gave life to your apartment was dim, the distance between your faces was enough for Leon to take in every detail that defined the complexion of your face: from the lines that explicated the years and hardship you had been through, to the little dimples beside your lips that he was sure was as deep as the Pacific Ocean. From the constellation of cute freckles that flecked your cheeks and the bridge of your nose, to the pink hue that gave light to them. You were beautiful and there was no doubt it was one of the many things he admired about you. And there was also no doubt that he wasn’t afraid to voice it out while he laid flushed beneath you.

“You’re cute. You know that, right?”

“Mhm, I’m gonna be hot when I’m sixty.” You giggled at your own joke but when you saw just how awestricken your friend was by you, your smile immediately dropped and you were left flustered on top of him in diffidence and nervousness. And because of your oblivion, your hold on his wrists slackened and he took no time flipping the two of you over and switching up the roles.

“I knew you would fall for that, princess,” Leon remarked and before you could even let out a single letter, he already had his lips smashed onto yours.

A soft gasp fell from your lips but it didn’t take long for you to succumb to the feeling of his supple and slightly chapped lips.

In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment, and in that moment, you were in your pure and vulnerable selves.

It was slow and subtle at first, lips delicately lingering against each other for a moment of lip-lock until a relentless appetency set fire in your bodies. It became sloppy and messy and the abiding flavor that ghosted on your tongues left you wanting more and more of what you could give.

Hands set sail on plump skin and it wasn’t long until pieces of clothing slowly began replacing the space on your carpet where you once laid, Leon having carried you to sit you down on your couch.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this? I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want,” Leon whispered against your kiss-swollen lips, the ghost of his breath sending a delicious chill down your spine.

“I want to… Please?” And that did it for him.

He let out low growl from the depths of his throat before battering your neck with tickling kisses and bites were marks were left as graves created by the inner animal that was housed inside of his body. The brush of his skin against yours arised the short hairs that adorned your own and it didn’t help that the evening cold would tease past you in a speed that sent you shivering to your toes.

“Leon, please.”

“Please what, babe?” Leon kissed along your thighs while he looked at you through the shortness of his lashes.

“I need you, please.”

“In a minute, babe. I fucking need to taste you,” he mumbled, voice raspy with lust and desire.

You anticipated with what was bound to happen next with closed eyes and lip restrained in between teeth. However, no matter how much you prepared yourself for the feeling of his tongue touching your folds, your back still arched at the feeling and a soft moan sounded from an open mouth, hands finding home on Leon’s disheveled hair.

“Oh, fuck!”

“That’s it, baby. Moan for me, moan my name.” That you did. You let a string of curses unknowingly escape your lips along with his name slipping in between them as he lapped your sex with a type of hunger even he couldn’t describe for the life of him. He simply couldn’t get enough of your taste; getting you off once, twice, thrice, until you couldn’t take it anymore and pulled him by his hair before having a sample taste of your own through his lips. And while he was busy savoring your mouth once more, you pushed him on the floor again and straddled his hips impatiently where you felt the twitch of his cock touch your pussy.

“Please, Leon. I want you. I want you so bad. I wanna feel your cock inside me, now.”

“It’s all yours, sweetheart. It’s all yours.”

Permission granted.

Your hand grasped the base of his cock and stroked it a few times before lining the tip up to your entrance, pushing it down once you were sure enough that his dick would just slide in you, and you both moaned at the stretch and the tightness that surrounded him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so tight,” Leon grunted.

You let yourself give in to his astonishing size before you slowly began bouncing up and down his length, your eyelids falling close to the feeling of his dick hitting just the right spots with neither of you trying. You moved in sync together, his hips propelling into yours and gradually speeding up as indulgence replaced the throbbing of your walls at their painful expansion.

“Fuck, Leon, shit.”

This was good, painfully good, but somehow it still wasn’t enough for Leon so he decided to take control again and turned you to your back where he can finally satisfy both you and him much to your contentment. He pounded into you with so much force and the tips of his fingers dug into your skin that you were sure you were going to be sore the next day at work and bruises were going to be a part of your attire for a while. Oh, well, I’m just going to call in sick tomorrow.

“You’re taking my co – ngh – ck so good, baby girl. So – ngh – good.”

Mewls left your mouth at the sound of his broken words and a familiar tight warmth filled your stomach, your moans getting louder and louder each time Leon gave a powerful blow.

“Leon, please, please, please, I’m so close – shit!”

“I know, baby, I know. Just hold on a little longer for me.”

After a few more thrusts, they became sloppy, you noticed, and all pent-up emotion boiled over into one strong orgasm that has you writhing and shaking in relief.

  “Well, fuck. That was good,” you spoke in between heavy breathing, the blanket you took from inside your couch now covering your glistening wet bodies.

“Best sex I’ve ever had if I’m being honestly,” Leon added, chuckling despite struggling to get some air himself.

“Yeah. But seriously though,” you steadied your head in your hand and began tracing random doodles on the exposed skin of his chest as you spoke, “Is this going to be a one-time thing or…”

“Well, to be honest, I wanna go further from just being a one-night stand. You know, a real relationship and all that. But if you want it to be a one-time thing, I’ll respect that.” You could tell Leon was disheartened at the thought of him being a one-night stand only but your intention was just the same as his and now, you were sure about your decision.

“I wanna go further than this, too. I love you so fucking much.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page then.” Leon placed a chaste kiss on your lips before he pulled you on top of him and lulled you both into a deep slumber.

*****

Lmao this was longer than intended XD.

[magma-cjay]

Lingering Fragments (cw: death, angst, implied suicide)

(foreword: ok MagmaCjay, you asked for it, don't say you weren't warned)

○○○○○○○○○○○○○

They were all dead. Every single one of them.

With great effort Risotto staggered toward the headquarters, limping painfully, his right leg dragging, and barely attached to his body by Metallica's power alone. Torn nearly off and barely hanging on by a few strands of muscle and tendon, and the ability of his Stand.

He had barely escaped his encounter with the unassuming young boy. A boy whom he knew had ties to the Boss. Who had mistreated him and his team for far too long. Who he was a fool to have underestimated. But he was lucky to escape with his life. Especially when Bucciarati's team intervened.

If one can consider me lucky, by any definition, Risotto thought.

His whole team was gone. He was the last man standing. The rest of his men, his family, slaughtered like swine by Bucciarati's team, and for what? Hadn't they sought to betray the boss as well? Hadn't they sought the same goal? Weren't they two teams on enemy sides, yet united with a common enemy?

It was all so damn unfair.

It wasn't long until Risotto neared the Hitman Squad hideout, a small, shabby and unassuming apartment that lay secluded in the Italian suburbs. A place where he and his crew dealt their shady deals to survive and hid from the wrath of the Boss. A place that was what many would call the dark, ominous underground of Italy's streets, but was a shelter for his men and himself.

A place that was the closest thing he could call a home.

Barging into the door, blood pouring from his numerous wounds, Risotto stumbled painfully into the living room with a cry of anguish. A cry that echoed through the empty halls of the hideout and gradually warbled away into silence. A painful, deafening silence that hurt Risotto far more than Aerosmith's bullets ever could.

He collapsed heavily onto the kitchen table, breathing heavily and wincing in pain. His dark inky eyes darted down onto the table, which was empty, save for a newspaper, and a plate of long-stale crackers, which were beginning to attract ants from their time left unattended.

Risotto's heart sank like lead as the gravity of what those meant struck him harder than any blow from the Boss's stand. The newspaper was spread out at a crossword puzzle, the date: April 1st, 2001. Risotto wished this was all a fool's day trick, but the silence was all too real. All too agonizing to endure.

The crossword puzzle was half-finished, with angry scribbles and incorrect answers that Risotto recalled too well. Of the angry hollers of Ghiaccio, as he struggled to comprehend words, while Formaggio mocked him playfully for his incompetence while snacking on the table.

Now the remnants of Formaggio's last meal lay untouched, as if silently awaiting their consumer. But there was none. Once wise-cracking, prank-pulling, now just a charred, cold corpse on a street somewhere. Would he at least be laid to rest by whoever found his body? thought Risotto. Or would he be left to rot, be picked away by rats and roaches like garbage? Like the garbage he had always been treated as, by the world, by society, by the very gang they had found themselves trapped in?

The unfinished crossword puzzle also brought Risotto little comfort. He had always loathed Ghiaccio's rambling, his angry ranting at the most trivial of things. But now Risotto ached for that irate voice. He would have given anything to hear that voice one last time. Not that Ghiaccio's throat, pierced right through the spine and out his windpipe, drowned slowly in his own blood by Giovanna and his gunman, would ever make another sound again.

Risotto glared at the crossword puzzle, and the one word that Ghiaccio had managed to fill. "An eight letter word synonymous with forever." 

Eternity.

Eternity. How painfully appropriate. Gone for eternity, never to be seen or heard from again. Forever. Just like the only family he ever had, with this one word, inked out in a sanguine red on the faded parchment, as if an ominous tiding of death.

The sight of these leftovers were too much for Risotto to bear, and despite the agony he heaved himself off the kitchen chair, stumbling to the living room and throwing himself onto the couch. His blood stained the faded, torn cushions, as he pressed his face into a pillow and muffled a scream. He breathed in through his nose, and caught a waft of a familiar scent. Prosciutto's cologne. His favorite pefume that he wore before...that mission. Risotto felt a lump in his throat.

Everywhere he looked, everywhere he went, the house was filled with little remains of everyday things, which like nails further hammered in the loss in his already wounded heart and soul. Scents. Sights. Sounds, or the lack thereof.

His knee accidentally pressed something hard on the sofa and with a static whirr the television came on. It was a dramatic soap opera currently on air. Melone and Illuso's favorite television show, featuring soppy tales of love and romance which they dutifully watched day after day, despite mocking jabs from Formaggio and Ghiaccio about their tastes in genre.

And now they will never know how the show ends. The last he had heard of Melone was a report from Ghiaccio claiming to have heard him scream on the phone and lose contact. And Illuso...was gone. Not just dead, but gone: vanished without a trace, melted into thin air, with not even a hair or piece of clothing to remind the world that he ever was.

Would anyone remember them? Would anybody even care?

They were just criminals to the world, weren't they? The scum of the earth, filthy, cold-blooded killers. They were the monsters of society, and to anyone else? They'd say they deserved to die.

But to Risotto, they were family. His family. His brothers in a way, who were all dragged in this horrid life by the cruel twists of fate. He'd wished to have escaped from the trappings of this mafia, but they were mired too deep into the quicksands of crime. He regretted deep inside having turned them into this life of a gangster. Especially Pesci. He was too young, too naive. He never deserved a life like this. He never deserved to see his big brother crushed under the wheels of a locomotive, and be torn apart alive shortly after by that damn Bucciarati's stand to spend his final moments in pain and terror at the cold, freezing abyss of a lake.

He despised himself at not having been able to save them. Of having failed to free them from the binds of this miserable existence. But it was too late. Since the day Sorbet and Gelato befell their dreadful end, he swore that he would lose no more further. But he did. One by one. And every single day, Risotto returned to find his home a little bit emptier.

Until there was none.

He was all alone in this cold, cruel, void, everyone he had ever cared about but a distant memory or a pallid lifeless corpse. There was nothing left for him. No one to turn to. Not even Formaggio's uplifting cracking jokes or Prosciutto's affectionate reassurance. He hated Giovanna and his allies for everything they did. If he could, he wanted to take their lives with his own bare hands, make them pay for the pain they wrought. But what would it bring him? Satisfaction? Justice?

There is no justice in this wretched world, Risotto thought bitterly. That's why I am here in the first place.

He could murder Giovanna and Bucciarati and the Boss for all he cared, but the damage was already done. Nothing he could do would bring back his family. They were dead, gone forever, and all of his efforts would have been in vain.

There was nothing left for him, but a future of emptiness.

Why did he have to suffer? What did he do to deserve all this? They were bad people who did bad things, but it wasn't their fault they were forced to become what they were. Risotto whimpered like a frightened child as he curled up on the bloodstained sofa, embracing himself tightly in a futile effort to make the pain go away, the pain of his body's wounds, and the agony that seared his soul like hellfire.

He wanted the pain to end.

A gleam caught his eye, down next to the sofa. Something black and shiny lay tucked against one side of the cushions It was Prosciutto's spare revolver, which he kept in good condition, and kept hidden away in case his original was lost or damaged if a mission went wrong.

It couldn't have gone more wrong.

Everything had gone wrong.

Their entire life had gone wrong.

With trembling hands and heaving breath Risotto reached out for the revolver and felt its cold, hard steel touch menacingly, and yet enticingly, to his stiff, shivering fingers.

Maybe this would make the pain go away.

For eternity.

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

(afterword: yeah, told you this would get really depressing. i didn't know if Risotto would kill himself or choose to continue living, in which case he would just suffer all the more so yeah i never made a chapter two. oh well. sorry all you squadra fans for making you cry today)

[hopelessromanticvirgo]

Ground Control To Us

Sobbe social media au 4.10

Chapter 4.9

Robbe feels like he can't breath, like the his lunges can't hold air inside them anymore, and they are about to burst open. He desperately wants to just let it all out but no tears are coming. He needs to do something, cry, scream, trash the whole room down but he can't risk waking his mom up when she just fell asleep. They just got back from the hospital, the nurses who had been with her since they found her on the streets, told Robbe that it was okay to take her home, that she just needed some rest and they should come back tomorrow morning to check up on her. It was a long night. He didn't know what happened or how. One minute he was hanging out with Moyo and Aaron and the next minute he was running and searching for his mom. He was unsuccessful but that didn't matter anymore. It was almost two am when he got a call that told him, she was safe and sound, but still unaware of her being and whereabouts. Robbe felt so lucky and happy that he had some money in his pockets so they could come back home with a taxi. The sun would rise soon, probably in an hour, and Robbe laid wide awake, unable to even close his eyes for a few seconds, afraid something horrible would happen if he didn't pay enough attention. His head feels like a weighted stone, hard, painful sitting on him, killing him. His mind is racing, thoughts like "it was all your fault" and "you shouldn't have left her alone" and "you wanted to have some fun, didn't you? Look what happened" were destroying him from the inside, slowly and he needed to stop thinking, needed to stop doing anything, needed to just disappear, never come back. He didn't deserve it at all and he didn't know what to do to stop them. He considered calling Jens but the boy wouldn't be any help, he never was because he simply couldn't understand and by calling him this late at night, he'd only make him worry and Robbe didn't want that. Usually he'd text Sander in this kind of moments but it felt too agonizing, it'd only hurt him more when he wouldn't get a response so he closed his chat, which was open on Instagram, ready for his useless rantings. He didn't have anybody who would understand, he shut his phone down and stared at his white ceiling, head full of thoughts, horrible thoughts eating him up alive, burying him down in the ground, standing in front of him, looking down at him. He felt his eyes got wet and he almost made a sound from the excitement since crying meant getting rid of this emotions and maybe even falling asleep from the exhausting. But his joy didn't last long when again, no tears came. He cursed and rolled over, now looking out from his open window, admiring how the moonlight came in the room, on the floor, almost touching his bed but not quite there yet. If he put his hand in front of him, he was sure it would touch him, maybe even feel what he was feeling, what he was thinking. Maybe it was here to share his emotions with him, maybe it felt sorry for him, pity him. Maybe it was there to give him some love since nobody else was doing it. He almost laughed at his desperate attempts to make the light come in his room more freely in his mind, like he was ordering or challenging it to dare and touch him, dare and feel him, dare to see what he was made of, dare to take his pain away.

Of course, his request was left unanswered.

He groaned and tried to close his eyes to fall asleep again but after helplessly turning and turning around he finally gave up and got used to the fact that today he wouldn't get any drop of sleep, he only hoped that he'd get so tired later that he'd just crash down on the bed, emotionlessly. His phone lit up with the notification from his tweeter, it seemed like he wasn't the only person up at this hour of the day, this early or this late, whatever you prefer to call it, somebody liked his tweet.

All of a sudden, the realization just hit him and he took his phone in his hand and went to the app.

His friend, his crush, the person he is talking to, whatever you want to call it, can understand.

And when that thought came into his head, he has a sudden and desperate urge to talk to him, to hear his voice. He looked at the time, 04:56, he must have been asleep right now. Robbe decided that he'd just text him to check, maybe, somehow he was awake too.

Are you up?

I really need somebody to talk to right now.

He waited a few minutes, nothing.

He really shouldn't be doing this, it's too late and he will wake him up, but he desperately needed to talk to him, the urge was so strong that he dared with all the confidence he had in his body and started audio call.

It rang and rang, until the call ended.

He probably has his phone on mute, he thought.

And decided to drop it.

He stared at his chat and was still log into it, didn't want to leave for some reason.

Looked at his username, "call me whatever you want" so mysterious. He didn't even know his name and was bothering him with his problems and even dared to call him at this time. He probably doesn't even want to meet Robbe, he just doesn't care, while he on the other hand, can't wait to see what he looks like, what he's like, to touch his hand, maybe even kiss him if they decided to give their relationship a chance. But Robbe would be satisfied with being only his friend too, no matter how much he craves his presence. He has never felt this kind of connecting before, well maybe he has, with Sander but that was different, Sander wasn't on the other side of the phone, he was here but somehow very far away at the same time. He was real but also unreachable for Robbe. Just there, living, existing and that was enough for Robbe, more than enough honestly.

He couldn't ask for more from him. But this person, this mysterious person somehow started to fill the void inside him, the void that was making him believe that he would never find somebody who could understand his true self, because he was understanding Robbe and was there for him even nobody else cared.

Maybe that was the destiny, maybe it was meant to be. Didn't Robbe believe in soulmates?

Maybe it was time for him to start being happy once and for all?

Was it too selfish to ask for a little bit of happiness?

He felt amazing about him, felt like he could finally breath freely around him and blinded and filled with this thoughts, he didn't even realize what he was doing, didn't even blink when he clicked on the calling button again.

* * *

Sander felt asleep very late, and he just started drifting off. He was extremely bored at nights when he was spending his evenings at home, alone with his thoughts.

Senne is a perfect help for that but now, he wasn't there and wouldn't be for a few days. Not that Sander should complain, the boy was doing so much already for him and he deserved to rest and be without Sander for a while too. Senne wouldn't admit but he was worried and stressed about Sander all the damn time. And Sander hated making his friend feel this way, bothering him and no matter how many times Senne would say that he was more than happy to help, Sander could see how much it was tiring for the boy to be around him sometimes,and he's so happy he's resting and having a good time right now, but he can't help being upset since he's all alone. His parents told him to stay with them but he didn't want to. The whole night was spent with him thinking about the situation he got hisself into and how to make everything right, but of course he couldn't find any new solution. He was so convinced that telling Robbe wasn't even worth it anymore for more than one reason, if somehow with a helping miracle, Robbe forgave him and be with him, their relationship wouldn't last, not with Sander being toxic, not with what Sander is capable of doing, breaking and hurting him, no matter how much he'd try to not do it, he doesn't even know him and he's already bringing so much pain to him, he can't even imagine what would happen if they were together.

But fuck, Sander can't stay away, he couldn't stay away since the day one and specially can't now, some force or blind string is pulling him towards that boy, that amazing boy, too perfect and unreachable for Sander.

Too far away.

Too impossible.

What he'd give to fix all this mess without having to hurt him, but the thought alone was unbelievable.

His mind is a very dangerous place, crying for help, somebody to accept him the way he is, with all his mistakes and flaws, somebody to love him for his own self and not just because of his looks or fame.

He wants to believe so hard that he will have it someday, that he deserves it but as one part of him hopefully says all this, the other part is evilly laughing at him, pointing fingers.

He's weak, he's lost and stuck, doesn't know what to do, he often feels this way but never like this, so helpless, so sad.

He's ready to give up anything but he doesn't want to. He wants to be with Robbe and love him, take care of him, be someone he can rely on, wants to spoil him with affection and presents. He doesn't even want a lot in return, that boy to love him, would be enough, would be the dream and the heaven.

Life isn't fair since they shouldn't have been in this situation right now, instead, they should be lying together, with Sander's hands roaming all over the boy's body, softly, gently, afraid he'd disappear so he'd hold him close, never let go, maybe even take him and run away with him, Robbe said yes, didn't he? Go somewhere very far away, where Sander didn't have to fake his identity, where he didn't have thousands of people staring at him, judging him, somewhere, anywhere but here, since this place only brings him pain and he doesn't know how much more he can handle before slipping up, crashing down and maybe even doing something unforgivable.

The pain this day became so much worse, that he was ready to do anything to make it disappear.

Anything.

Before he got his self in this mess and things got unhandily, he'd always imagine video calling Robbe, (maybe this got stuck in his head because that's how the celebrities on the YouTube tell their fans it's them when they are going undercover on their video) and he could see the image so clear in his head.

Robbe would pick up and stare blankly at his screen when Sander would appear and pop up, after a while, he'd just slam his laptop down and Sander would laugh so hard, would text him to ask why he hang up.

Even that dream was so far away, he was sure it wouldn't ever happen.

He tried telling him, but somehow something was always standing in his way, which in the end made him believe that the universe wasn't making it possible for them, as Robbe'd say.

And he didn't have any power left inside him to fight and win.

Maybe it wasn't meant to be if so many things were making it harder for him.

Or maybe that's exactly why it was meant to be?

He felt the vibration next to his head, but couldn't understand what was making that noise.

He felt extremely alone, the house was quiet and cold.

And so was his heart, ready to give all his love but wasn't able to.

What he'd give to have his fingers slipped in Robbe's hair, caressing it, pulling it, admiring it.

He will take it, whatever Robbe'd decide to give him, immediately.

Whatever Robbe thought that Sander deserved, any action or word.

And to answer that, Sander is ready to give anything that he owns, his body, heart and soul.

Robbe can just take it all how he want it.

The unknown vibration started again and made Sander more awake by each passing second.

He groaned and put his hand away from his head under the pillow, and touch his nightstand. After a few unsuccessful attempts to locate his phone which was now, freely making a lot of noice and making Sander's ears hurt, he finally touched and took it.

The light coming from it, was too bright and he didn't want to open his eyes.

He was too tired and wasn't that wide awake to realize that somebody was calling him so late, and almost nobody calls that late at night if they don't have horrible news.

He opened one eye a little bit to see where the green answer button was so he could make this sound stop.

Usually, he wouldn't answer but now it felt like, his answer was needed, and still having no idea who it was because he didn't see the name, he pushed the button and took the phone to his right ear.

"Hello?"

The world stopped and the silence overpowered everything more than it was already doing.

"Hello?" He tried again and got a little worried that somebody from the other side of the line needed help but couldn't say it.

He took his phone away from his ear to see who was calling but at the same time, the phone lit up and blind him so he put it back to its previous place and closed his eyes again, slowly getting used to the fact that he has been woken up.

"I'm listening." He added and thought that it was probably a prank call coming from some kids who were having a sleepover right now and we're dialing random numbers.

Some kind of sound was heard from the phone and he listened closely but couldn't figure out what or who it was, he couldn't figure out anything.

And finally, the one who so rudely woke him up, spoke.

"S-s-sander?"

There was something about that voice, so surprised and scared, as if they couldn't believe their ears, that made Sander worried, his heart started beating fast for some reason.

"Yes?" He asked again, now trying harder to get the person to say, whatever they wanted.

Still silence.

So deadly silence.

Sander was about to ask another question when the line ended.

His eyebrows got pushed together from the confusion and finally decided to sat up, and took his phone in both of his hands.

The first thing he saw after what time was it, was a twitter notification which was a missed call, 7 minutes ago.

The realization started making his mind spin, his knees started shaking.

He didn't want to make any guesses until he was very sure, so with his heavy breathing, he opened the app and there it was.

One missed call from Robbe right under "the audio call started."

"Fuck." He whispered, and couldn't believe his eyes.

It was Robbe.

He stared at his chat so intensely as if what happened just a moment ago, would disappear and erase itself from existing if Sander tried it harder.

He pulled out his hair until his scalp started hurting and he was sure the hair would fall out if he pulled it more.

He couldn't breath anymore.

"Fuck." He yelled out and threw his phone across his room. It hit one of the poster he had on his wall and the glass shattered, after two seconds he heard his phone hit the ground. His eyesight got blurry.

Chapter 5.1

[fallenrepublick]

I saw your rant about how Disney Lucasfilm writes Maul’s relationship with the Nightsisters and you wrote everything I’ve been screaming into the void about lol. Like, since Disney took over they’ve made consistent retcon efforts to change Maul’s relationships with the nightsisters, effectively erasing all the context from old canon regarding his nightbrother status, and not allowing any development for Savages character or their relationship! Like why?? Sorry for the rant I could go all day lol

OKAY YES SEE-

I'm fine with change, I understand that, especially with a universe as expansive as this, with so many creators and viewpoints, things are going to change and develop with the times and the people mainly running the direction. Lord knows that there's some shit from Legends that I am glad doesn't exist anymore

But for fuck's sake

For one thing: It was previously understood that Talzin was not Maul's mother, she only made him think that in order to get him on her side. In fact, Maul was a twin, and the other was kept, while he was hidden away to keep him safe. (In my canon, until I am told otherwise, which I won't be, he and Feral were the twins. Feral is a few minutes older.)

Now that plotline would have swayed me favourably towards the Nightsisters, because it would have proven that someone had good intentions for his future, someone loved him enough to identify that the situation was fucked up enough that he could have a better chance somewhere else. In erasing that entirely, I have only seen in the present canon a reoccurring issue where not a single Nightsister has shown any care or empathy towards the Nightbrothers or even Maul specifically, yet they still try to convince me that he sees them as his people. All potential development towards that is gone, and even their most recent opportunity to do this was botched. Put Dathomir in your game and ignore an entire group of people living there? Good job. Strike one.

But fine, sure, they change that all and give us something else. There's an opportunity here, when they introduce an entire Nightbrother clan, when we're given Savage and Feral. I would be fine with this, they could show us the culture in small ways, the brotherhood between the Zabraks, the sense of community as not only a warrior people, but a family that must stay together... Except for the fact that they tear away the possibility of getting to know either of them before a Nightsister's interference. They ignore the existence of other Nightbrothers and kill Feral, using him as a tool against Savage. Chance two missed.

Okay, okay, fine. Fridge the brother, I guess. There's another opportunity, show us how that affected Savage. Show the severed connection with the brother he desperately tried to protect weighing on him like stones on his shoulders, show him grappling with his inability to live up to Maul's example, and wondering, if he had been more like that, could he have saved Feral?

Wait, where'd he go?

Oh there he is-

...Oh he's dead.

"My family, the Nightsisters-"

Wow.

[mypassionfortrash]

Do More of What Scares You: Parts 1 & 2 of 11

Roger is determined to help you overcome your anxiety in any way he can. Although he means well, all he seems to do is make everything worse. Can you make it work?

Pairing: Roger x f!reader Warnings: Smut (18+), angst, lots of talk about anxiety. Notes: I’m rewriting all my old fics from ‘BoRhapRogerina’ ahead of finishing them for NaNoWriMo this year. Feedback is always appreciated!

[1/11]

It was your second date with Roger. A picnic in the countryside where no one could bother either of you. No prying eyes, no crowded spaces. The polar opposite of Roger’s natural habitat, but somewhere you felt right at home. What could possibly go wrong? Especially after your first date didn't exactly go swimmingly.

He had insisted on picking you up.

You insisted you could drive yourself.

He was having none of it.

Why was he so endearing?

Peering through the slats in the blinds, the street below had a dull thrum to it. Crawling with a quiet life of its own. The sun was out, and so was every soul you knew.

Dry mouth, heart thumping. Beads of sweat trickled down your brow; a scorching summer’s day didn’t pair well with the tunnel vision inducing rollercoaster in your brain that sped away with all your excitement.

After the first date, you were convinced he didn't want to see you again.

But sure enough, he called the following morning. He was keen. You prayed he would lose interest. No embarrassing yourself. No stumbling over your words. Or rehearsing answers to every question he could possibly ask you. No more fucking up.

Roger was charming, full of life. He never let anything hold him back. Perhaps that was part of the problem to begin with?

And you? You were aloof, serious. You had so much holding you back that you could never quite catch a breath.

Especially around him.

Still, you dared to hope he would draw out the best part of you. Unleashing something that had packed up and left a long time ago.

When did you get so careful? When was the last time you did anything that scared you? Not counting your first date with him.

You thought of all the recent goings-on in your safe, boring life, struggling to find something that actually enthralled you like he did. 

The sandwiches. The ones you slaved away over that morning. That scared you.

What if he didn’t even like cheese and Branston Pickle?

Better make some jam ones.

Just in case.

You got yourself in such a tizz that getting ready for your date took a backseat until it was almost too late. Even now, your clammy palms tried to smooth your dress down over your thighs. It just didn’t feel right, but it would have to do. There wasn’t any time left to worry about it. You could suffer that, at least.

The trees across the street didn’t sway the way they usually did. The air was thick and heavy, rising up from the street in pale, grey wisps that your neighbours happily wandered through in their shorts and sandals, lazily lapping away at their ice creams or chugging cold beers.

You ached to enjoy it without the great weight on your chest and pinpricks in your vision. And the ringing. Oh god the ringing in your ears was infernal.

That wasn’t the devil on your shoulder, hooting away.

It was Roger. Top down, shades on, in a beast of a car. He was looking up. You could tell he was squinting, gauging whether he had got the right flat.

You threw open the window, batting your eyes left and right. Checking to see if anyone but him was watching. “I’ll be down in a minute,” you chirped, before slamming the window closed. You could just about hear a faint, “what was that?”

But your little jelly legs whisked you down the stairs, a hamper of sandwiches and fruit tucked under your arm.

You blustered into the car next to Roger.

He leaned in to kiss you on the cheek. He knew nothing about personal space.

You were all business. “Hi. Have you been waiting long?”

Roger shook his head and shrugged. “You look lovely.”

Your hands smoothed the fabric of your new red dress against your thighs again, grasping at the hemline. “Thanks.”

Being around Roger was easy (as easy as your brain would allow, anyway). He liked to talk. A lot. And you were much more of a listener.

But then sometimes, he would talk too much. Or admire you for too long. You counted the amount of times he had swerved into oncoming traffic as he was ranting and raving, slapping his hand on your thigh.

Six. Six times. And you hadn’t left town yet.

And then you got out on to the open road. The houses gave way to fields and trees for miles around. Thick, lush green in every direction. And Roger’s foot? It seemed to be made of lead.

The force of the car pushed you back into your seat. Your fingernails dug into your thighs as the engine screamed through the stillness around you.

“You’re very quiet today. What’s the matter?” Roger asked. “Got the jitters?”

You managed to feign a smile, and a small shake of the head. “No, I’m alright.”

Everything surrounding the car blurred into one. Unable to pick out anything in the landscape before it got whipped from view, your stomach began to churn. 

Roger’s voice turned into a muffled drone, as he gazed over at you.

It happened in a flash.

Another driver with the same idea.

The two cars missed each other by a whisker.

Roger laughed it off.

You couldn’t.

You were pale with horror.

“Oh come on, we didn’t crash!” Roger assured you. “I’m a perfectly safe driver, darling.”

You eyed Roger. Jaw clenched. Not saying a word.

Roger flipped from being jovial to being serious, caring. Even his grip on your leg loosened. His voice wasn't as piercing - in fact he was uncharacteristically calm. “Do you want me to slow down?”

You nodded.

The revs dropped to a faint purr. The world became clearer again.

“Thanks.”

“I just get a bit carried away. Sorry. Suppose I’m just trying to impress you.”

“It’s okay. I hate driving. I’m nervous enough as a passenger.” You laughed at how stupid you sounded.

“Why’s that?”

“I guess it’s about not being in control. Either way, you’re always at the mercy of other people.”

Roger seemed to understand what you were telling him. His eyes scanned the road ahead as he tried to work out how to respond. “Do you want to drive home? Afterwards. Get your confidence up?”

You gave a haughty laugh. “Me? After what I just told you?” Your eyes were wide as you jabbed your finger to your chest.

“Yes, you. I’ll be right beside you. Nothing to worry about.”

You thought for a moment, getting lost inside your head. He was so disarming. So comforting.

“What do you say?” He asked, turning the car into a deserted lay-by.

“You’d really trust me to-“

“You seem a lot more careful than I am,” he laughed, slipping off his sunglasses and placing them on your nose. “And I’m willing to bet you’re not as blind as I am.”

Your surroundings were out of focus but enlarged as you took in the world from behind Roger’s rose tinted lenses. You reached out into the void, your palm finding its way to his face. Drawing your fingertips over his nose. His lips. His jawline.

“You’re so blind,” you observed.

A look of utter joy had draped itself over your features for the first time in years. It felt freeing to wear it again. Even for a short while.

“You know, I bet you look really pretty,” Roger said quietly. “If I could see you.”

You giggled, delicately perching his glasses back on his face. “Still think I’m pretty?” You bumbled. 

To him, you looked like a painting as you surveyed your surroundings, your hair flickering ever so slightly in the breeze. A work of art.

“Perfect.” He smiled. “I still think you need to live a little, though.”

You narrowed your eyes, looking at him again. “Live a little?”

Roger pursed his lips together, nodding. He was certain you knew exactly what that meant.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “Well, that’s going to be a bit harder than just looking pretty for you.”

“I have an idea,” Roger said, wagging a finger in the air to stop you cutting him off. “Hear me out.”

You folded your arms, cocking your head to the side. “I’m listening.” You were in no mood for being receptive, however.

“Why don’t we - every time we see each other - do something that scares you a bit? Start off small. I’ll give it to the end of the year and you’ll be as bold as I am, I guarantee you.”

The suggestion had you giggling nervously again. That familiar pit in your stomach began to grow once more. “Who says we’re going to make it to the end of the year? You’ll be the bloody death of me, Roger!”

“Right,” Roger began, turning in his seat and taking both your shaky little hands. “There’s a reservoir about five minutes through those trees behind you. Let’s go for a swim!”

“Oh fuck,” you said, throwing your head back. “No.” Your cheeks burned at the thought. "No." Your heart emigrated to the depths of your stomach. “No, I can’t.”

He rubbed your shoulders. “Or you could just dip your toes in and see how you get on. And then,” he paused, pointing towards the hamper at your feet. “You can eat all those lovely sandwiches while I freeze to death for your amusement.”

He was so endearing you couldn’t say no to that.

“Okay,” you resolved with a familiar rattle in your throat. “Let’s go swimming.”

[2/11]

The air surrounding the water was crisp in comparison to the city. Back home it wrapped itself around your neck in wispy yellow lassos as if it was trying to choke the life out of you. 

But here, it was different. Your lungs filled with ease.

You and Roger were the only souls there. The dense tree line surrounding the lake was still and quiet. The water was a slate of smooth steel. Too perfect to touch.

“This isn’t a reservoir, Roger,” you stated.

“Of course it is. You can swim in it.”

“You can’t swim in a reservoir. This is a lake.”

“They’re the same thing.”

Wrong.

A line of moored up boats on moulding ropes bobbed on either side of the rickety wooden aisle, like spectators at a wedding. Roger eyed them.

“Don’t get any ideas,” you warned him, staying one step ahead. Finally, at the very end of the wooden walkway, you sat down and took off your shoes.

Roger was a few paces behind, throwing off his clothes and leaving a trail.

Before your toes touched the water’s surface, Roger bypassed you. He leapt into the water, sending icy shards firing at your face.

You were quite content with dunking your feet in for the time being.

“I’ll tell you, this is just the thing!” Roger laughed, his head breaking above the waves, mats of hair clinging to his face.

Reaching into the hamper for a sandwich, the nerves flooded back.

He was going to convince you to join him.

Better nip that in the bud, right away.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

You could hear him chuckling as he swam around at your feet, then he went under. Completely undetectable. Until he grabbed your ankles, making you shriek so loud that birds exploded out of the trees. He was giddy, looking up at you with a broad smile. “Put on my glasses.”

“What?” You said through a mouthful of bread and jam and butter.

“Put ‘em on, so you don’t get too fired up by this,” he said, flapping his arms. “No one can resist me.”

That was true.

You put on his glasses. In the blink of an eye, your view appeared pink and impaired. You saw the trails Roger made in the water as he swam away from you, but not much else.

It was comforting. The trees looked even more green, blending into a sludgy haze in the distance. And the sky. ‘Apocalyptic’ came to mind. Even though it was a brilliant day, the sun had decided to go into hiding over your secluded sanctuary. It abandoned you under cloudy canopies. This was summer in Britain, after all. The sky was an expanse of dusky pink with not one single break of light. Everything was a beautiful, muted calm from behind those lenses. You saw everything as Roger did.

“Have you finished your sandwich yet?” Roger called from the centre of the lake. He was a faint yellow dot in the distance, like the moon against the far off night. He threw his arm in the air, waving. “Can you come out and play?”

“I don’t know, Roger,” you laughed, curling in on yourself. “I’ll catch my death.”

“Ask your mum!”

You grinned, shaking your head.

You were actually considering it.

More than considering.

You wanted to do it.

“Well?” Roger asked, paddling towards you. “What did she say?”

“Maybe,” you announced, standing up, your legs quivering underneath you. “But don’t look.”

“I couldn’t even if I bloody well wanted to!”

You needed more assurance. “Right, cover your eyes.”

“Is that really necess-“

“Just do it!” You warned.

“Oh, alright then, since it’s you,” he said, pressing his palms over his eyes. “You do know I’m blind, right? I did tell you this, didn’t I?”

When you were certain Roger wasn’t looking, you turned your back on him. It made things easier if he were to see you naked. You wouldn’t have to see his face. With shaking hands, you pulled your poppy red sundress over your head and threw it next to Roger’s jeans. The chill in the air lapped away at your skin as you shed the rest of your clothing. “Still not looking?” You called, crossing your arms over your body.

“I might have had a little peek,” Roger admitted. He was quick to back peddle. “But remember I can’t actually see anything. You were a blur. A lovely… blur…. By the way.”

Turning around to face the lake, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of apprehension threatening to drown you. Never had you imagined you would be doing this. Let alone with a stranger.

He was waiting for you. Hands still covering his eyes. Keeping his word.

Your stomach churned with every dainty step towards the water. It felt like you were walking on hot coals but lacked the capacity to move any quicker. Arms still wrapped around your body, trying to cover up. There wasn’t an inch of skin on you that wasn’t peppered with goosebumps.

He insisted he couldn’t see you. But you weren’t buying it. Not for a second.

Finally, you were at the edge of the jetty, staring down at the churning grey abyss.

Deep breath.

You stepped out, allowing yourself to be overcome for a moment. It was everywhere. Pitch black, clawing at your skin, right through to your bones. In your eyes. Up your nose. In your ears. It stung. But you had never been more awake.

And then you broke through the surface.

Heart racing. Exhilarating. Clarity.

Roger was there. He looked proud.

Those little wheels in your mind slowed down, taking it in.

“You can see me now?”

“I can see you perfectly.”

“Oh god.”

His hands were warm on your hips, underneath the barbed blanket that clung to your lower half. “You did it,” he whispered.

You laughed, turning in the water to get a better view of everything around you. Your heart was so full.

There was no fussing about which way your hair fell, or the mascara running down your cheeks. Or even the fact that you were here, naked in the middle of nowhere, with the most gorgeous stranger you had ever met.

Instead, you were present and living. It felt so new. And all took was one small step. “I did, didn’t I?”

Behind you, Roger had wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I saw the whole thing,” he said quietly, kissing your neck. “And it was bloody marvellous. I’m so proud of you.”

You narrowed your eyes, turning to look at him. “I thought you couldn’t see?”

His mouth popped open. “I’m not completely blind. I’m just very short sighted.”

“Right.”

None of that mattered.

You and Roger stayed by the lake for the rest of the day. Huddled up at the end of the landing, eating sandwiches and watching the water sway below.

You talked about everything as you tried to dry off. And long after. How draining it was trying to keep up his mischievous public persona. He just wanted to drink tea and play scrabble. But he had appearances to maintain. And how, deep down, he felt like it was time for him to grow up. Be an adult. Work on his temper. Stop fucking about. Maybe buy a more sensible car and not crash it. All much to your dismay.

The sun reappeared towards the end of the day, cracking out over the tops of the trees on the opposite side of the lake. It was getting late.

“For what it’s worth,” you began, pulling up your underwear, “I don’t see why you should have to grow up.”

Roger was slipping on his shirt, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m probably the world’s leading authority on letting everything hold me back. And worrying too much,” you said, brushing his hands out of the way to fasten the buttons. “You’re fine the way you are.” You gave him a pat on the chest once you had finished.

“Well, that’s good to know,” he said, looking at his feet. Then back at you. “It couldn’t hurt to be a bit more like you, though. A bit more careful.”

You shook your head, shuffling into your dress. “Why would you want that? Being this careful… It’s like being in prison. I was hoping you’d help bust me out of it, if that’s ok with you?”

“Still fancy driving back?” He asked.

You grimaced, picking up the empty hamper and taking Roger’s arm. “I’ve had enough excitement for one day. You can see in the dark when you’re driving though, can’t you?”

Roger pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I think so. I’ll try not to kill us, if that makes you feel better.”

“You’re so good at keeping me calm, Roger. I don’t know how you do it.”

[nitr0glycer1ne]

Ducktober/Duckvember Day 7 - Redraw/Rewrite

Heya! I decided to change the theme from redraw to rewrite, and chose the ending of one of my favorite episodes, The Duck Knight Returns!. Except, there might be a twist... Enjoy!

Two Darkwings ran towards the terrifying machine, but only one managed to stand in front of it and push the other, and Launchpad, out of the way. Launchpad’s eyes met the youngest Darkwing’s, their fiery brown shining bright with sheer heroism and a mischievous spark, then-

The explosion was as deafening as it was heart shattering, blinding Launchpad and the man standing next to him. They couldn’t even see if Darkwing was injured, not with the heavy smoke filling the space around the giant electric rod that had gone up in flames. There were screams in the studio, but none of them reached Launchpad’s ears, filled with a painful ringing and a throbbing sensation of guilt. He should have run towards what was left of the machine, even though there was little hope Darkwing was uninjured, or even that he had survived, but he couldn’t, his legs frozen in place and in time.

Launchpad only managed to turn his head from the disaster when he sensed someone collapsing next to him. His watery eyes found the crumbled form of Jim Starling, kneeling on the ground, his body limp and slightly trembling. His hat had been blasted a few meters away by the explosion, allowing Launchpad to glimpse at the actor’s face, seeing all of the regret and the misery of the world on it.

And then, Launchpad wasn’t looking at his cherished idol anymore. Jim Starling was nothing more than an old, bitter man, desperate for attention and clinging to his past glory as if clinging on to life. There was no Darkwing Duck in that instant- only a sad man coming to terms with the disastrous consequences of his hubris.

-

Launchpad found himself sitting on a chair in the studio, facing the wall as if to make sure what was left of the disaster wasn’t in his field of vision. He hadn’t any recollection of how he had ended up there, but the boy sitting next to him was a clue, as was the warm plastic cup he handed the pilot.

“Didn’t find real hot chocolate here.” Dewey apologized. “Only the stuff in vending machine where they put water instead of milk… buuut, I did find some marshmallows to put inside!”

Dewey smiled at his friend, adding a few of the sugary treats in the beverage. Launchpad gave the kid a weak smile, nothing like the joyous smile he seemed to have in all circumstances. It pained Dewey to see such hurt on the pilot’s face, but he hoped things would quickly be back to normal.

“Hey, it was an amazing fight, wasn’t it?” he tried to cheer his friend up. “I’m sure Darkwing, I mean, the one who wasn’t a bad guy, is somewhere under that pile of junk. He looks pretty strong!” “Yeah…” Launchpad nodded, sipping some of the cocoa. It was barely drinkable, but he truly appreciated the gesture nonetheless. “He’s a real strong guy.”

Launchpad kept on drinking, and Dewey kept on talking, hoping to help his friend regain his usual optimism. The duck had barely finished his drink when a hand tapped on his shoulder:

“Hey, you’re the guy who tried to stop the fight between those two actors, right?” “Yeah, why?”

There was an unspoken surprise in Launchpad’s answer. He quickly got up, finding himself face to face with a police officer, behind which stood a handcuffed Jim Starling. He still had his Darkwing costume on. The fabric was torn in some places, but it was overall in good condition in spite of the rough fight it had been through. He was still missing the hat, but the mask had stayed on, and there were faint wet trails right beneath his eyes, slightly darkening the fabric.

“Starling here had something to tell you.”

The actor sighed and rolled his eyes. Clearly, he was annoyed and had trouble saying what he wanted to. Launchpad somewhat expected him to rant about the way he betrayed him when he sided with the other actor – whose name, Launchpad realized with painful guilt, he had never bothered to ask -, so the pilot was quite taken aback by the words Starling mumbled:

“I’m sorry, kid. I guess I’ve been a bit too far.”

It took Launchpad a few moments to get past his initial surprise, and he was about to answer, but Dewey was quicker than him:

“You sure did!” he scolded angrily, putting himself between Launchpad and Jim. “Why- how could you do that? Isn’t that pushing the whole method acting thing a bit too far?! That guy was a huge fan, you know!”

Launchpad had seldom seen Dewey get so angry. The small duck was glaring at the former actor, and Jim was answering with a look equally heinous, except his glare was tinted with sadness.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” he spat. “Do you know what it’s like to go from being a famous and popular actor to being treated like a nobody barely good enough to do store openings?!” “You’ll tell that to the judge.” The policeman growled, not enjoying the way the discussion was going. “Come on, now. We’re going for a little ride to the nearest police station.” “Wait!” Launchpad finally yelled.

The three other ducks looked at him, perplexed. Launchpad took a deep breath, before locking his eyes with Jim’s:

“Mr Starling. I’ve always been your biggest fan, but…” he hesitated. He wasn’t that good with words, and was very aware of it; however, it was important for him to convey his feelings on the whole debacle to his idol. “… this was plain wrong. I admire your work, and you deserve more recognition for it… but you shouldn’t be acting like one of those villains Darkwing Duck fought all the time! You should be doing the exact opposite! When I’m at a loss as to what to do in a situation, I always ask myself “What would DW do?” and I think you should ask yourself that, too! You’re as strong and capable as you were in your prime, and it’s such a waste you’re using all of those amazing capabilities of yours to do… that!”

Launchpad concluded his monologue with a vague flailing of his arms. Dewey had watched him unfazed, used to the long rants his friend could go on when talking about his favourite show, and the policeman had looked at Launchpad as if he had gone insane. But Jim hadn’t. He hadn’t blinked during the whole speech, his eyes glued to his fan, and had felt the sheer admiration and happiness and love for Darkwing Duck radiating from the duck.

And as the policeman had dragged him away, he had given the smallest of nods, whispering the tiniest “I’ll think about it.”

-

The whole filming crew did their best to clean up the set, and to find the missing actor. But he was nowhere to be found; not even the smallest piece of fabric or feather remained on the set. Launchpad had helped them, looking everywhere; but he hadn’t found anything, save for a few splatters of what seemed to be purple paint. He had still searched through the whole studio and even the alleys surrounding it, desperate to find the actor he had gotten along so well with.

But he had never found him, and it was a very weary and sad Launchpad who drove Dewey back to the mansion. Dewey had live tweeted most of the action and sent his brothers text about the situation; and when the duo stepped on the front porch of the manor, Mrs Beakley opened the door, guiding them to the dining room, where dinner awaited them. It was late, since Launchpad had insisted on looking absolutely everywhere in his frantic search for his new friend, and the rest of the mansion’s inhabitants had long left to their respective rooms, although Dewey was sure he’d find his brothers awake and awaiting him with a lot of questions.

After eating their steaks, Dewey started to head towards his room, but was stopped by Launchpad:

“Hey, buddy. Thanks for your help, today.”

Launchpad’s regular smile was back on his beak. A bit weaker than usual, but it was a good start and warmed Dewey’s heart all the same.

“Anytime, buddy!”

Dewey didn’t try to escape the tight hug that followed.

-

A purple trail of dye stains the dirty water running through the sewers, dripping from a manhole and splashing in droplets. It paints a trail, one that leads to a duck slightly hunched over, his breathing a bit ragged from the way his lungs have been exposed to an important quantity of smoke in a short amount of time. His forehead is throbbing in pain, the deep ache echoing all the way to inside his head, as if it has taken over some of his brain. His hands are balled into fists, trembling under the force the duck is clenching them with. His clothes are a mess, cheap purple dye dripping from his coat, which is slowly turning yellow. A large red hat, its brim dented and burnt in some places, covers his face, hiding an almost feral grin and eyes widened in a crazed stare.

“How could I be so blind? Adoring such a monster, treating him as an idol? Ha! And to think I was so eager to ask him for advice, to share the spotlight with him…”

His breathing gets quicker and his voice raspier and louder as he keeps on talking to himself:

“After I worked so hard to earn that role, the role I dreamt for so long, the role I was born to play! Well, then, fine! So be it! If I can’t be Darkwing Duck, if that old fool wants the role so bad he’d lie for it, that he’d kill for it…”

He starts laughing, a laughter void of any joy, his head tilted back and his eyes glued to the ceiling.

“Then he can keep it! I’ll show him, I’ll show them all, how I’m better than him! And then, that idiot will be a relic of the past, and people like Launchpad will see how they were making the same mistake than me! I’ll show them the truth, even if I have to cause a few accidents for them to finally see that fossil for what he is!”

His laughter gets louder, and his pupils are blown wide, drowning the warm pool of his brown irises in cold darkness. ------ I hope you liked the idea of Drake becoming Negaduck and that the other characters weren't too OOC! I stand by what I said for Day 5 : like writing for Jim. I feel like if Drake was believed to be dead or at least MIA because of what he did, maybe that would be a wake up call. He wouldn't do a 180 degrees and become super nice, of course; he has a bad temper and an ego out of proportion. But it could be the start of something new. Maybe he'd become Darkwing IRL, maybe not... And Drake of course has a big ego. I can't imagine him turning evil with the way events played in canon, but what if getting so close to death and almost killed by his idol had been too much, on top of the concussion ? (I tried to hint he had a head trauma possibly injuring his frontal lobe, as that kind of serious injury can cause shifts in personality, plus the frontal lobe is, amongst other things, the one responsible of inhibitions). I also liked writing Dewey and Launchpad's friendship. It's a really cute and fun aspect of the show!

[lizzzybooo]

Give me something to hold onto

Summary: Dan and Phil need to learn how to be together again, but can they do it when everything feels so broken?

inspired by the song- Woke The F*ck Up by Jon Bellion

words: 8291 

read on ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11452344

Notes: this is part two of the story "bored", you should read it first if you haven't :)

read part one here

In the first two days of Phil’s absence Dan didn’t try to contact him at all. A mixture of pride and confusion ruled his mind and stopped him every time his fingers hovered over the keyboarded, trying to think of a text to send.

On the evening that Phil left, Dan went out again with his university friends with a big fuck you Phil attitude. He dragged them to a party that was way too loud and way too crowded, and spent half of his night drinking alone in a corner and being rude to his friends when they tried to talk to him.

Eventually they got sick of him being a prick and left him to be miserable by himself, to which he just grumbled something barely audible and stayed at the exact same spot.

He got shoved in a taxi a few hours later by an angry looking bouncer and spent all of the ride home ranting to the driver (who didn’t speak a word of English) about all of his life’s problems.

----------------------------

The second day he spent in his bed, leaving just to go to the bathroom. He slept through the day and lied awake in the night, thinking and re-enacting the same conversation over and over again in his head.

It’s not that he didn’t know that he was in the wrong, because he did, very much so. Every word Phil said echoed in his mind, louder and angrier than Phil probably intended it to be. Every syllable contributed to the heavy guilty mass that settled in his chest and refuse to let his heart bit in a normal pace.

But still, he couldn’t make himself pick up the phone.

It was all very frustrating for him. He could feel his most important relationship crumbling and slipping from his grasp, but his body refused to let him do anything about it.

And it was hard for him to see now, looking backwords, how they got to this point.

When did Dan stop being careful with his actions? When did he stop being afraid of losing Phil and started taking things between them for granted?

When was the point where everyone else’s thoughts and opinions started to mater more than Phil’s?

For Dan, Phil was security and comfort, and somewhere in his subconscious he probably felt he would always be there, even if Dan treated him like crap.

And Dan needed to treat someone like crap.

He felt suffocated by everything and everyone shoving his every documented move down his throat in an attempt to fulfil some weird fantasy they had with him in the main role, disregarding his privacy and personal boundaries.

And he got frustrated from feeling that none of this sudden attention had anything to do with his content or talent or efforts.

And even though it was childish on his part, he felt the constant need to separate himself from Phil, to show everyone he didn’t need some cheap gimmick to make a career for himself.

But none of this was fair to Phil.

And when Dan tried to put himself in Phil’s shoes, tried to imagen what it was like to be so isolated by the man he loved, to feel like a punching bag in the worst days, and plain invisible in the best, it made him burst into tears, shoving his face into his pillow that smelled like nothing comforting at all.

And he knew that the pressure he was feeling and the fear of being judged by something that had nothing to do with him as a creator wasn’t an excuse to act up and to throw tantrums, to shout and to yell at everyone who was still willing to listen that he and Phil were not, and never will be, in a relationship.

Except they were. And Dan messed it up, because shutting Phil out of his professional life just felt like not enough.

Suddenly everything felt like a camera and Phil felt like an enemy that needed to be beaten.

And Dan tried very hard not to think about Phil’s words that night in his bed. Because Dan never thought he would be the kind of partner that would make his lover feel used.

But the harsh words, leaving Phil’s gentle mouth, made him roll into himself a little more and sob a little louder.

Everything was so wrong between them, to the point where Dan was not sure it was worth fixing.

But still, on the third day, after waking up and feeling that the proud, stubborn part of his brain started to get smaller and smaller, and the void that formed in his chest from Phil’s absence started to get bigger and bigger, Dan finally picked up his phone and sent Phil a message.

To: Phil 12:03 pm hi

He debated with himself for a good 10 minutes, trying to decide what more to say, before giving up and throwing the phone on the mattress, getting up to take a much needed shower.

He scrubbed himself clean, feeling the need to linger longer than usual, to put a little more soap and scrub a little harder.

The truth is, he was terrified to go back to his room and look at his phone. Terrified to realise once and for all that he ruined any chance to make things better between him and Phil.

And a part of him understood that maybe that was for the better, that maybe it was time to call it a day and walk away before the situation could turn into something worst. Before this relationship would turn into something even more toxic, something they both wouldn’t be able to recover from.

He understood all of this. He did.

But still.

He couldn’t ignore the other part of him. The one that was growing with fear and anxiety. The one that was screaming in his ear to just fix it, to do anything and everything to keep Phil by his side.

He was able to stall for about half an hour, making himself something to eat after the shower and making his way slowly back to his bedroom.

When he finally had the courage to lift up his phone and look, he felt such a strong relief wash over him it even made his head feel a little dizzy.

From: Phil 12:18 hey

He wasn’t even that surprised at the feeling of tears streaming down his face. The huge rock that was sitting on his heart lifted itself for moment, letting him breath deeply and a little easier for a few minutes.

And though it was only a short response, only 3 letters, it gave him the incredible feeling of hope that maybe things could be fixed between them.

------------------------------

On the fourth day he mustered up the courage to send Phil another message.

To: Phil 2:43 pm

How are things at home?

This time he didn’t even tried to pretend not to wait anxiously for a replay, sitting with his phone in his hands and staring at it pointedly.

The notion that he was able to let Phil go felt silly to him now.

It hit him suddenly that it had been so long since he last stared at his phone like this, wishing for Phil to throw him the smallest bone.

It all felt so far from him now.

For the last few months almost every conversation with Phil made him feel irritated. All the cute little quirks that used to be charming in his eyes started to get on his nerves, making him feel impatient and frustrated.

But he knew that a big part of it was that he was still mad at Phil.

Mad that he didn’t share his point of view. Mad that he refused to help Dan defuse the situation. But most of all he was mad that his and Phil’s relationship was the soures of the problem.

And yeah, maybe it wasn’t really Phil’s fault. They were both a part of this relationship, both were a little carless at the beginning and both were paying for it now.

But Dan was nothing if not a little self-cantered, and it was a lot easier to blame Phil instead of accepting that the situation wasn’t really anyone’s fault. It was easier to have a direction to point a blaming finger at, to feel like someone screwed up and needed to face the consequences.

But Dan had forgotten that people don’t have to stay by your side if it didn’t benefit them in any way. And even though Phil was a pretty selfless guy most of the time, he wouldn’t stay in a situation that was bad for him. Not if Dan was going to keep treating him the same way, not if nothing was going to change.

From: Phil 15:07

They’re fine. Mom made the chocolate chip muffins that I like so that’s good

Dan smiled at the message, feeling his heart speeding up a bit and a smile stretching on his face.

To: Phil 15:09 Jealous

It was defiantly tense between them but it was better than nothing. They were talking, kind of, and Phil seemed willing to communicate with him, which was honestly better than Dan expected or deserved.

-----------------

On the fifth day Dan started to feel fear again. He wanted Phil to come home. He wanted to talk to him and try to make it all better. To tell him that he did want to be with him, that being with him was worth all the backlash they were facing.

And he wanted to apologize. Because now, thinking back on their conversation, Dan couldn’t remember saying he was sorry even once. Not for any of the things he did that hurt Phil.

To: Phil 5:31 pm

When are you coming home?

He sent it on an impulse. Not really thinking about the implication, not thinking if it was right to pressure Phil into coming back just yet.

Maybe he needed more time. Maybe he was still not sure what the right thing was for him.

Maybe he was not coming back at all.

From: Phil 5:35 pm

Do you want me to come home?

This time Dan didn’t hesitate before sending a quick ‘yes’.

From: Phil 5:40 pm

Then soon

----------------------------------

On the sixth day Dan didn’t contact Phil at all. Wanting to give him as much time as he needed.

This resolution lasted exactly 24 hours, and on the seventh day he felt like his body was physically aching for Phil to come home already.

To: Phil 10:30 am

Come home please

From: Phil 10:38 am

Okay

-----------------------------------

Phil came home on the evening of the same day.

Dan was in his room when he heard the door being open and shut. He got up from his bed (where he was laying the majority of the day) and made his way to the front door, feeling anxious and uneasy.

He met Phil half way there, both stopping in their tracks and staring at each other like deers caught in the headlights, lost and trying to figure out what was the next appropriate step.

Phil looked worn out, exhausted, like he didn’t have a good night sleep all week. Dan realised that he probably didn’t look much better himself.

He wanted to take Phil’s hand and drag him to the bedroom, force him into a much needed cuddle and sleep for at least three days straight. But he couldn’t do that, he wasn’t allowed to anymore. At least not for now.

Dan cleared his throat.

“Hey…” he said after the silence started to feel uncomfortable.

“Hi,” Phil answered, looking at him expectedly, like he was waiting for Dan to make some kind of a move.

And even though Dan felt his heart bit like crazy in his chest, and every bone in his body told him to get back to his room, to flee the situation, he took the few steps separating him from Phil and stood right in front of him, looking at his red rimmed, tired blue eyes.

He reached out and with little to no objection from Phil took the bag he was carrying out of his hands and put it on the floor next to their feet. He lifted up his arms, slowly, and wrapped them around Phil’s body gently, afraid of crossing a line.

It felt like forever before Phil hugged back, timid, but Dan waited patiently, not moving from his position. When he felt Phil’s fingers squeezing around the material of his shirt Dan finally let out the breath he was holding and pulled Phil a little bit closer to him, one hand moving to the back of his head, tangling his fingers in his hair and massaging the scalp in a way that always helped Phil relax.

That, apparently, was the wrong move.

Phil immediately went rigid in his arms and pulled away from him, taking a step back and making sure they had enough distance between them.

Dan tried very hard to stop his heart from breaking. He deserve that, he reminded himself. He should be glad Phil didn’t slap him on the face the minute he walked in.

“I…um… going to put my stuff in my room, and then I think we should talk.” Phil said, his voice tight, trying to hold emotion back.

Dan was petrified of this conversation. Phil didn’t give him any clue if what he had to say was good or bad. Any indication if Dan should be hopeful or not.

But still, no matter what, Dan decided he was going to say what he had to say. He wasn’t going to give up on them without a fight.

He was sick of playing this game with Phil, trying to challenge him and bit him to submission. He didn’t care anymore if he had the upper hand. He didn’t care if he came off as desperate or if his ego would take a hit in the process. He needed to fight for this, for their relationship, for the person he loved.

And for once, it had to be him that would do the fighting, because Phil was tired of this battle, that much was clear. And it was time for Dan to show him he wasn’t fighting on his own.

Dan made his way to the lounge and set on a chair. The same one he was set on a week ago when they first started this conversation. And he was determined to not let it go down the same way it did last time.

When Phil walked in and took his place on the couch in front of Dan, Dan had a hard time keeping himself feeling optimistic.

Phil looked so done with the situation. His expression was closed off and distant, his eyes tired and red, his body language tense and unapproachable.

He was so different from the Phil Dan was used to. So different from the giggly, loving and happy person Dan knew him as. And in addition to everything, Dan suddenly felt incredibly guilty for creating this gloomy, sad version of Phil. For making him look like the broken, pale shell that was sitting in front of him now.

“I just… I don’t know how to start this Dan. I don’t know what more to say.” Phil's sudden words made Dan snap from the daze he was in.

He was staring at his hands that were resting in his lap, refusing to meet Dan’s eyes.

“I spent this whole week going through everything in my head, trying to decide what the best thing we should do here is, but nothing became clearer.” He took in a big breath and exhaled slowly while Dan felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest.

“My mom said that she think we should break up. She said that it was clear to her that I’m miserable, that we both are.” He made a weird sound, something between a laugh and a sob.

Dan felt his own eyes starting to spill tears down his face with no warning, making his vision blurry.

He always loved the Lesters. They were all so similar to Phil, loving and bubbly and accepting of Dan, and it was hard not to be charmed by this peculiar group of people.

And the thought that he had disappointed them, that he had somehow made them regret accepting him so wholeheartedly into their family, made his throat close off. They trusted him with Phil’s heart, trusted him not to let him get hurt, trusted him to always make sure Phil was happy and safe.

And what did he do with this trust? He abused it, acting like he didn’t have to be accountable for anything he did, acting like he had no one to answer to at the end of the day.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

Suddenly two blue, wet, teary eyes were staring back at him from the couch, a pained expression in them.

“What do you think Dan? What do you want?”

“I…”

He was feeling lost. All of the things he wanted to say to Phil, all the decisions he made were stack in his throat and refused to come out.

But when he saw Phil’s face starting to close off again, his mouth stretch into a thin line and his eyes once again averting from Dan’s gaze, Dan knew he had to do something, say something, anything that can make the situation at least a little bit better.

“I don’t want to break up.” He managed to say, looking desperately at Phil, trying to communicate to him without speaking how serious he was.

Phil let his eyes go back to Dan’s once again, waiting for him to continue.

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself.

“I know I didn’t exactly show it recently, but I do want to be with you Phil.”

Dan’s eyes were still leaking and his voice sounded small and unsure even in his ears.

Phil’s face scrunched up and tears started to spill in an increasing speed out of his eyes.

“Do you Dan? Because I don’t want you to stay just because it’s easier than to leave. I don’t want you to stay if you’re just afraid of taking the leap and being alone. I am not going to be your easy choice.”

And after that, Dan couldn’t take the distance between them anymore. He got up from his chair and made his way to the couch, sitting next to Phil, being careful not to sit to close and invade his personal space to much.

He reached out slowly, taking Phil’s hand in his. When he felt no objection from Phil, he squeezed the pale fingers a little tighter, trying to ease both of their pain with a simple touch.

“No… Phil… it’s not that at all. I know it was all so bad between us lately, and I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry for hurting you, for acting the way I did. Everything got mixed up in my head and I wasn’t sure on which side you were anymore. And I know it’s not an excuse, I know I was shitty and just not a good partner to you, but I really don’t want to break up. I want to work on it and make it better.”

Phil was avoiding Dan’s eyes again, looking at their joint hands, breathing shaky and uneven.

“I can’t keep going this way anymore Dan. I’m tired of it.” He said it so quietly that Dan had trouble hearing him.

“I want to be happy. I’m sick of waiting for you to get your act together. I want to feel loved. You made me feel so unloved Dan.” He whispered, his voice catching in his throat and Dan felt like someone was reaching into his gut and twisting his insides, slowly and painfully.

Phil lifted his face and looked at Dan through tear filled eyes, and Dan wasn’t even sure he could see him properly.

“I want to be happy with you, I do, but I don’t know if you can make me happy anymore. And…and I don’t know if I can make you happy either. “

“But you do make me happy,” Dan protested. “You do! It was everything else that made me miserable, everything else was shit and I took it out on you because I’m a fuck up, you know I am. But I didn’t want to fuck things between us. I want to fix it. I want to prove to you I can make you happy again. I can make all of this better.”

He was desperately clinging to Phil’s hand, trying to stay grounded, trying to articulate all this thoughts that were running through his head before it was too late.

It couldn’t be the end. Not like this. Not because Dan was a screw up that ruined everything between them.

To his surprise, Phil squeezed his hand back, clinging to him just as desperately as Dan.

“Okay,” Phil said, barely audible. And Dan felt like he was spinning, a huge relief washing over him and making him feel almost weightless. He definitely didn’t except Phil to agree this quickly. Maybe the week of separation was hard on Phil as well.

Phil didn’t say anything else. He still looked timid, but he scooted a little closer to Dan’s body until their legs were touching. Dan could see he was unsure of what to do next, as if he still didn’t know how Dan would react to him being affectionate after so much time of feeling rejected.

Dan took matters into his own hands, lifting his arms and wrapping them around Phil’s body, pulling him closer to him until Phil’s head was buried in Dan’s neck and he could feel his breath against his skin. Phil wrapped his own arms around Dan’s middle, pushing himself even more into Dan’s body.

“But I’m serious Dan, things really have to change. I won’t endure it anymore, I deserve better.” Phil murmured, and even with him being physically pressed to Dan’s side, his voice still sounded far away, cold and distant.

“You won’t have to. You do deserve better, I will treat you better. I’ll fix it.” Dan said, and in a moment of bravery he planted a kiss on the side of Phil’s head.

Dan couldn’t pretend to not to feel hurt when his action made Phil pull away from him once again.

“I’m tired,” he was avoiding Dan’s eyes once again. “I haven’t really slept that well this week. I’m going to bed.” he tried to smile at Dan’s direction, but the smile came out fake and tight. Nothing like Phil’s usual sunshine like smiles.

Dan didn’t really have a chance to say anything before Phil got up and quickly made his way to his bedroom.

Dan couldn’t suppress the sight that left his lips. Even though they technically decided to stay together, everything felt so tense between them, so broken.

But Dan was determent to fix it.

---------------------

Dan rolled around in his bed for a few hours, trying to sleep before giving up. The knowledge that Phil was under the same roof as him, but in a different bed, was driving him crazy.

He couldn’t see now why he ever chose not to sleep in the same bed as Phil when he had the privilege to.

In a momentary decision he got out of bed and walked out of his room.

Phil’s bedroom door was closed. Another change. In the last few months Phil made sure to always leave his door open, probably to make sure Dan knew he was welcome inside.

Now he felt like the shut door was mocking him, rubbing in his face all of the things he had done wrong.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door gently, not wanting to wake Phil up on the off chance he was really asleep.

When a quiet “yes” was heard from the other side, Dan didn’t waste time opening the door and making his way inside, shutting the door behind him.

He couldn’t see very well in the dark room, but he was almost certain Phil was staring at him from his bed.

“Can I maybe sleep here tonight?” Dan asked. He didn’t even care how desperate he sounded at that moment, he kind of wanted Phil to know he was desperate for his forgiveness.

Phil was quiet for a moment and then Dan could hear a movement from the bed.

“Yeah, it okay.” He said eventually.

Dan made his way to the bed, careful not to bump into anything on his way. When he finally made it and lied down, he could feel that Phil’s body was as far away from him as possible, curled up on the far side of the bed.

Dan didn’t want to test his luck, not after being rejected twice already today.

“Goodnight,” he whispered after he made himself comfortable under the duvet, his back turned to Phil.

“Goodnight Dan,” he heard a faint response from Phil.

They both laid awake a while after that. Neither of their breaths going even with sleep.

Dan counted him being in the same bed as Phil as a win. It was still far from being good between them again, but it was a start, and Dan was planning to cherish every win he could get.

“By the way,” Phil said, breaking the silence. “I’m always on your side.”

He said it quietly, almost to himself.

“What?” Dan asked, rolling around so he could face Phil.

Phil was still facing the other way, curled up on himself.

“You said earlier that you didn’t know on which side I was. I’m on yours, always. Even if I disagree with you, even when you hurt me.”

Dan felt his chest swell up two times its natural size.

He scooted closer to Phil, testing the waters, and put his arms around Phil’s body from behind, squeezing him to his chest.

Phil didn’t turn around, didn’t wiggle his body to be closer to Dan’s like he used to do in the past. Didn’t show any indication that he wanted Dan to hold him.

But he didn’t push him away either, didn’t go rigid under his touch.

And that’s was another win in Dan’s eyes.

“I love you,” Dan said. He wanted Phil to know that he was loved. So very loved. Even when Dan had a funny way of showing it.

The words felt almost foreign on his tongue from the lack of use, but Dan liked the taste of them in his mouth. He was willing to say them again and again.

And even though Phil didn’t answer, it still felt like progress.

-----------------

Things kept progressing between them in a slow pace, but in every day was another win, and that was enough to make Dan keep going.

They were still walking on eggshells around each other, afraid to make the wrong move and send the house of cards they build their reconciliation on tumbling down.

It was hard on Dan, probably hard on both of them, to feel so distant, to feel like his partner was so out of reach.

But still. There were wins every day, small ones, but it had to be enough for now.

--------------------

The night they kissed for the first time after the fight was a good night.

They spent the evening watching a crappy cooking show on the TV and laughing at the expense of the overly stressed, overly dramatic contestants.

Things felt so close to being normal, so similar to the way they used to be before all of this started, and Dan was the most hopeful he had been in a long time. Things felt like they were looking up.

That night in bed they laid face to face, talking and smiling and Phil’s smile felt a lot less forced than usual.

And when Dan reached out to trace Phil’s face with his fingers, moving them against his eyebrows gently, and then his cheeks and finally stopping at his lips, Phil didn’t push him away. On the contrary, he closed his eyes on an instinct, lips parting a little and face relaxing into Dan’s touch.

It had been so long since Dan had Phil like this. So relaxed and calm in his presence, under his touch.

“Can I kiss you?” Dan asked, because even though it was a good day, he didn’t want to step out of line, to read the situation wrong and ruin their progress.

Phil opened his eyes and looked at him for a moment before nodding and closing them again.

Dan leaned forward, fingers moving back to Phil’s cheek before he touched his lips to Phil’s gently.

It was a sweet kiss. Dan had to fight the desire to kiss for longer, to bite and to push and to slip his tongue into Phi’s mouth and taste the flavor he had missed so much.

But he stopped himself. Because now was not the time and trust needed to be built slowly, and rebuilt even slower.

He pulled back from Phil, feeling a mixture of content and desire for more.

Phil was looking at him with happy eyes, and honestly, that was better than anything Dan could have asked for. Because nothing was better than Phil’s eyes looking bright and happy for a change.

“You’re so pretty,” he said casually, fingers still tracing Phil’s features.

Phil’s face had a weird expression on it for a second before he pushed himself into Dan’s neck for hiding.

Dan moved his hand to Phil’s hair and scratched absentmindedly at his scalp, letting him hide his face from him.

“What is it?” he asked gently, a little amused by how adorable his boyfriend was being. It had been a long time since they’d been shy and blushy around each other.

“I’m just not used to hearing compliments from you anymore.” Phil murmured into Dan’s neck.

Dan felt his spirit momentarily fall, but picked himself right up, not letting his self deprecating thoughts ruin the moment. He could not change the past, but he could make the future better.

He pulled Phil a little closer to himself, kissing the top of his head.

“Well, get used to it.” He said, feeling determination to shower Phil with compliments and affectionate words from now on.

“Dan?” Phil said quietly, his voice muffled by Dan’s skin.

“Yeah?”

“You’re pretty too.”

Dan just laughed and pulled him even closer.

-----------------------

Sometimes, when they were in the moment, it was hard to even remember that something was wrong.

Since that night, kisses and touches became a lot more frequent between them. Dan started to feel Phil relax more and more, letting his guards down bit by bit and letting Dan in more easily.

And it was easy to ignore it all sometimes, letting themselves feel whole and content.

One night, when they were lying in bed, lazily making out, Dan had forgotten completely to be careful.

He could feel the heat starting to burn in his belly, making him pull Phil closer to him, starting to kiss harder and more possessive.

It had been so long since they’d done anything sexual, and Dan missed it. God he missed it.

The feeling of Phil’s naked body against his, the noises he would make, the look of hunger in his eyes. The feeling of intimacy and bliss from climaxing from the hands of the one you love.

All those thoughts clouded his brain, and he didn’t even notice the hesitant way Phil was kissing him back.

And when he reached his hand downwards from Phil’s lower back to his ass and squeezed, he absolutely mistook the noise of surprise and faint protest for the one of pleasure.

But when he pushed himself against Phil, grinding their clothed crotches together, one hand still holding Phil by the ass and keeping him in place, he couldn’t misunderstood Phil’s intentions when he abruptly pulled away from the kiss.

“Dan, stop,” Phil said, his voice breathless.

Dan let out an involuntary whine, hips twitching with the desire to get more friction.

“Baby please,” Dan said, barely audible, his lips moving to Phil’s neck.

“Dan, I asked you to stop,” Phil said again, a lot firmer than the first time, his hands moving to Dan’s chest and pushing him away.

And just like that, Dan could see sense again.

He had a second of feeling horrified. Not because he wanted to have sex and Phil didn’t. No. they were together long enough, it wasn’t a rare occasion for one of them to be in the mood while the other one wasn’t.

But now, when things were so fragile between them, Dan couldn’t allow himself to be reckless.

Sexual intimacy was a big taboo between them right now, after everything that happened.

Dan still had thoughts popping in his mind from time to time about what Phil had said that night in his room, and the day after when everything got blown up in their faces.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Phil feeling sexually used in this relationship. Feeling like Dan saw him as a sex relief and not as a partner.

“Phil… I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I got carried away in the moment.”

Phil was also looking quite sheepish, avoiding Dan’s eyes.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“No, it’s not, I should have asked you before-“

“Dan, it’s okay, really,” Phil interrupted him.

“Maybe you should go and…sort yourself out,” he added awkwardly.

Dan nodded and got out of bed, going to the bathroom and locking himself inside.

He didn’t really need to sort himself out anymore, the situation and the terror he felt took care of it already. But he could hear the undertone of Phil’s words. He wanted to be alone, even for a few minutes. Away from Dan.

When Dan got back to the bedroom about ten minutes later, Phil was lying with his back turned to Dan, pretending to be asleep.

Dan didn’t try to talk to him, curling up on his own side of the bed, feeling defeated.

----------------------

To say that Dan had a bad night of sleep would be an understatement.

He tossed and turned the whole night, thinking and overthinking everything and anything.

By morning he was more than ready to have a much needed conversation with Phil.

Even though thing were slowly looking up for them, Dan couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t doing enough to fix things, to show Phil how important he was to him.

And when Phil made his way to the kitchen in the morning, meeting a fully awake, determent Dan already standing there with a cup of coffee, Dan was ready with a plan that will make everything better.

“I think we should come out to our audience,” Dan said, not even bothering with a polite ‘good morning’.

Phil looked at him with a shocked expression on his face, and Dan couldn’t blame him.

After all, he was the one to push the notion of them as platonic friends so hard, wanting to make sure no one would ever mistake them for anything but.

“What makes you say that?” Phil asked cautiously, looking at him with suspicious eyes.

“Well, I was thinking of ways to get you to see how serious I am about us. Thinking of how I can show you you can trust me again, and that felt like the perfect way.”

And he was so sure Phil was going to be happy, that this was what he wanted, that he couldn’t even mask the surprise on his face when Phil’s expression suddenly became angry.

“Is this about last night? Because I wouldn’t sleep with you? Is this some means to an end for you?”

He looked so disgusted with this idea and Dan couldn’t understand how they could be on such different wavelength while talking about the same thing.

“No!” he protested. “It’s not that at all! I don’t care about the sex! I mean, I do, but I’m fine with waiting, as long as you need! If you don’t want to have sex again ever that’s fine too! I just thought that’s what you wanted, I just wanted to make you happy, to make things good between us again.”

Phil physically deflated when Dan finished talking, looking at him with wide eyes.

He stared at him for a moment, not saying anything, before making his way to Dan, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

Dan could not be more confused.

“I don’t want to tell the internet about us. At least not yet. I never did.” Phil said.

“I didn’t like the way you handled all of it, but I didn’t want to tell them either.” Phil’s face was so close to Dan’s now that he could feel the breath coming out of Phil’s mouth as he spoke. He didn’t look angry at all anymore. If Dan had to put a name to it he would have to say that Phil even looked a little bit fond.

“And it wouldn’t solve anything Dan. Putting this kind of pressure on our relationship right now can only harm it honestly.” He added.

Dan let his forehead fall onto Phil’s shoulder, lifting his arms and wrapping them around Phil as well.

“Then tell me what to do to make it better, to make you feel comfortable again.” He said quietly, feeling defeated.

Phil moved his hands in a slow, circular motion on Dan’s back, trying to soothe him.

“There’s nothing more you can do. I just need time. We need time to build what we’ve broken. But we’ll get there, we’ll be okay, I know it now.”

“I love you,” Dan said, his voice thick from the emotions and his sleepless night.

“Yeah, me too,” Phil replied.

He couldn’t say the words yet, but that was okay, they had time.

They were going to be okay.

----------------------

But sometimes, it felt like they weren’t going to be okay. Not at all.

Because old habits die hard, and Dan found it impossible to keep walking on eggshells when he was angry and looking for someone to get his anger out on.

And it was just one of those days.

The water in the shower was cold because Phil had forgotten to turn on the boiler when Dan had asked him to, and there was no cereal left for him again and no other valid breakfast choices, and his last video had more comments about ‘phan’ then the actual content he uploaded.

By the evening all of his nerves were on edge and he just couldn’t handle being cooped up in their flat anymore. Couldn’t handle being in Phil’s presence for another moment.

“Where are you going?” Phil asked when he saw Dan putting on his shoes.

“Out,” he answered shortly, not even bothering to look at Phil’s face.

“Out where?” Phil insisted. “Well, that’s none of your business is it?” he snapped.

Even through his anger Dan could tell he was going to regret that one later, but he didn’t dwell on it, walking out of the apartment and leaving a disappointed looking Phil behind.

-------------------------------

He went for a walk in their neighborhood, not trying to get to anywhere in particular, just trying to burn the negative energy out of his system.

By the time he got back home he was a lot less pissed off and a lot more afraid to face Phil.

He had been so carful since they made up, trying so hard to build the trust between them again, to make Phil feel safe and loved and appreciated in this relationship.

And he hated to think that he’d thrown it all away because of a bad mood.

Phil was set in the lounge when Dan walked in, working on his laptop and ignoring Dan’s presence.

“Hey,” Dan tried to say, but Phil refused to look at him or acknowledge him in any way.

Dan let out a sigh and went to sit down on the sofa next to Phil, careful not to sit to closely and anger him even more.

“Phil… I’m sorry, it was just a crappy day. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” Dan said, but still got no response.

He started to get a little irritated by Phil’s way of approaching the situation.

Yes, he snapped, he was rude and out of line, but he was also apologizing. Couldn’t Phil see how much he was trying?

“Can you please look at me? I said I’m sorry,” he tried again, keeping his voice calm.

At that Phil’s look snapped from the laptop to his direction, his eyes narrowed and hurt.

“So I should just say it’s okay because you apologized? Just let it go like I did all this time? That’s not going to work for me anymore, I told you I’m not going to tolerate this bullshit anymore.”

And something in Phil’s voice, the demanding, angry tone he was using, made Dan feel his anger rise again in his stomach.

“Don’t you think you’re being unfair?” he asked, tying to compose his voice and talk calmly. And failing.

“Oh I’m being unfair? To you? That’s rich,” he was completely facing Dan now, laptop closed and thrown to the side.

“Yes, you are! I’ve been trying so hard to do everything right, to fix things and to please you, can’t you give me some slack?”

“So I should just accept every bad thing you do because you’re trying? That’s not how it works.”

“That’s not what I said!” Dan was seriously straggling to keep his voice from rising.

“I was in a bad mood, it was a shit day. And I shouldn’t have snapped at you, but also, as my partner, I would expect you to understand that it had nothing to do with you, that sometimes that happens, and let it go.”

Phil looked a little more deflated, but kept going either way.

“And you know that a year back that’s exactly what I would have done, but now it’s not that simple for me.”

Dan was getting tired of this pointless argument.

“You can’t keep punishing me Phil. I know it’s hard for you, I get that. I know we still got a long way to go, and I respect that. But you chose to be with me, you chose to forgive me, and we can’t keep being careful with every step we take.”

Phil was looking at his lap while Dan was talking, cheeks pink and angry, but Dan could see he was listening.

“we live together, we are a couple, and sometimes we are going to fight, or one of us will take his anger out on the other because that’s a thing that happens when you spend all of your time with someone. But you can’t keep dangling the past above my head all the time, we need to move forward. You need to decide if you forgive me or… or not.”

He felt exhausted when he finished talking, like saying those few sentences drain all of his energy.

Phil was still looking at his lap, refusing to meet Dan’s eyes. Dan sighed in defeat, he said everything he had to say. He got up from the couch, not saying a word, and made his way to his room, closing the door after him.

-------------------------

A few hours later Dan was already regretting everything he said.

It’s not that he didn’t think he was right, but he also understood that things were not as simple as that.

But most of all, when he went through his own words in his head again, they felt a lot like an ultimatum. And Dan was terrified to put Phil in the position to choose, because he wasn’t sure at all that Phil would him.

He was just about ready to go to Phil’s room and apologize when a knock was heard from his door.

“Yes?” he said carefully, feeling scared and hopeful all at once.

The door opened to revile a bashful looking Phil. He was looking at his feet, playing with his fingers.

Before Dan had the chance to say anything, Phil was marching towards the bed where Dan was sitting, leaning against the headboard. He made his way there quickly, and suddenly he was on the bed, straddling Dan’s lap and burying his face in Dan’s neck.

Dan wrapped his arms around Phil’s body on an instinct, feeling confused but extremely happy by the turn of events.

“I’m sorry,” Phil whispered into the skin of Dan’s neck, leaving a small kiss there and sending shivers down Dan’s spine.

“I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have said what I’ve said. It was out of place.” Dan said, moving his hands up and down Phil’s back, soothing him.

Phil shook his head.

“No, you were right. I have been punishing you, even if I didn’t really realized it until you said it. You shouldn’t be afraid of my every reaction, I want us both to feel better in this relationship. If we are going to move forwards, we should do it as equals. You shouldn’t keep feeling that you’re fighting for me to stay.”

Phil was clinging to him now, hands fisting the front of Dan’s shirt, nose nuzzling Dan’s neck and shoulder.

“It’s just that… when you said it wasn’t my business to know where you were going, it felt so similar to all those other times, when you would shut me out and snap at me and go out for hours with god knows who to god knows where, coming home acting like it was a completely acceptable behavior. “

Dan was starting to feel his chest heavy again, and he pulled Phil a little closer to himself, one hand moving to the back of his head.

“I’m sorry-“

“No.” Phil interrupted him, pulling from Dan’s hold so he could sit upright and look at him.

“I didn’t say that so you would feel even guiltier. What I meant to say was, that I know it’s not what’s happening here right now, I know we’re in a different place. And the fact that I’m having trouble letting the past go…well, that’s on me, that’s something I need to work on. You were right when you said I chose to forgive you, I can’t keep holding the past above your head.”

Phil moved one of his hands from Dan’s shirt to his cheek, pushing his thumb against the place Dan’s dimple should be, making him smile and causing the dimple to make an appearance.

“So basically what I’m saying is, that this relationship is a two way street, and we both have things he need to work on, but that’s okay because we have each other to make it worth the effort.”

And then Phil was kissing him, hard and passionate, like he wanted to prove to him how serious he was about what he said, how serious he was about making their relationship work by working together.

And it was so different from the sweet kisses they’d shared in the last few weeks.

Phil’s hands moved to the back of Dan’s neck, pulling him closer, biting his bottom lip.

Dan let out a surprise groan, his tongue licking its way into Phil’s inviting mouth, his hand moving automatically to Phil’s bum and squeezing it.

Phil’s hips twitched at the contact for a second and then Phil was pushing himself against Dan, making them both gasp.

“Wait, wait,” Dan said, using all his self-control to pull away from Phil’s mouth.

Phil immediately stopped, moving a little backwards on Dan’s lap to create distance between their crotches.

“We should stop, if we keep going like this it will be a lot harder for me to stop later, literally.” Dan said, his hand moving up from Phil’s ass to his lower back where his t-shirt rode up.

“Do you want us to stop?” Phil asked, looking at him with dilated pupils and Dan wanted to take his words back that instant and kiss Phil’s ridiculously pink lips senseless.

“No, obviously, but I don’t want to rush you,” he answered.

Phil kissed him again, slow and deep.

“Then we shouldn’t stop,” Phil said, moving his mouth to Dan’s neck and sending shivers down Dan’s spine.

“If you’re sure,” Dan said, moving his hand to Phil’s hair when Phil sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on his neck.

“I’m sure,” he answered.

“I don’t want you to feel pressure because you think I’m mad at you from earlier or that I’m tired of waiting, because that’s not the case-“

“Dan.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up please.”

--------------------------

They were gentle with each other. Touching and kissing and complementing more than they used to.

The sensations and pleasure were heightened from the emotion every movement held, from knowing that they worked hard to get to where they were now, from knowing how close they were to losing each other.

And when they laid together after, still giddy and kissing and holding each other as close as they could, things felt…good.

They still had things to work on. Dan still had things to prove and Phil still had a lot of forgiving to do.

But when Phil nuzzled himself against Dan’s cheek, whispering “I love you,” not like it’s a secret but like it’s theirs, Dan knew, without a doubt, they will make it through.

this is based on a prompt, so thanks anon! <3

this one took a lot out of me! I didn't expect it to be this long omg

I really hope you liked it! it was very important for me to give this guys a happy ending :)

as always, leave a comment with your thoughts please, and you are more than welcome to send me prompts if you want :)

[projectclockwurk]

Be Careful What You Wish For

My mother always told me to be careful what I wished for. I should have listened to her. But does anybody ever really listen to advice like that, especially when they’re young? I’m sure many don’t and neither did I because I ended up wishing for something I regretted later. I wished for a younger sibling.

I got my brother about a year after I made my wish and I almost immediately resented him. Everything became about him and rarely was any attention ever focused on me anymore. It was always ‘the baby this’ and ‘the baby that.’ I would ask my parents to help me out with my homework and it was never the right time because ‘the baby needs me right now, Kate.’ I hated him. Keenan was a goddamn great big wound on my life.

It got worse as the years passed. Keenan could do no wrong. I, on the other hand, was blamed for anything and everything and seen as the problem child. I guess in a way it was a good thing though, at least my parents were giving me some attention, even if it was lectures and screaming matches when I tried to defend myself.

It was always impossible for me to view my brother in a positive light. I know you should love your siblings as long as they’re not abusive assholes, but it was so hard for me to love him. Especially when I had to cancel all my plans to watch him like I did just a month ago.

Mom and Dad wanted to go out to celebrate my dad getting a new and prestigious client at his firm. Celebrating meant no kids allowed because they wanted to go hit the casino about two hours from us and that meant I’d have to watch my brother all night. Just my luck.

When they left, I sat my brother in front of the TV and went upstairs to talk to my friends through Skype. I ranted about how much I hated having to be the parent all the time when it came to Keenan and how sick and tired I was of never getting to go out and have fun anymore. They could only say how sorry they were. It felt like hollow sympathy.

Eventually I got tired of that too and went back downstairs to make food. It was just spaghetti, something quick and easy and that I knew Keenan liked.

“I don’t want spaghetti,” he complained when I set the plate down in front of him.

“Well too bad, eat it.”

“But I don’t want it.”

“I made it and you’re going to eat it.”

“But Mom always makes me something else,” he said softly, poking the food with his fork.

“I’m not Mom, so just eat it!”

“I don’t want to!”

“Keenan, if you don’t eat, you can go to bed right now and go hungry the rest of the night. I don’t care.”

He puffed out his cheeks in annoyance but at least he started to eat. Mom and Dad babied him far too much but the behavior he got away with with my parents wasn’t going to fly with me.

He was quiet while he ate; his face eventually relaxing and once he was done, he gently placed his plate and utensils in the sink and thanked me, giving me a great big smile, the only way he ever smiled. Most would think it’s sweet. I didn’t think that.

Keenan went back into the living room and I was left to clean up the kitchen. I heard him start up his little toy car and had to bear the annoying little sounds it made as it zipped around.

I was just finishing up when I heard a crash. I ran into the living room to see Mom’s favorite vase had been knocked over and shattered; Keenan’s toy car had crashed into the table it sat on. I had told mom time and time again that the table was far too fragile.

I was furious. I just knew I’d get in trouble for this even if I left the stupid car where it was.

Keenan was looking at me with those big, brown eyes of his. He looked about ready to cry.

“I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t mean to.”

“If you were really sorry, you’d stop doing this!” I screamed. “You’re always breaking things and I get in trouble for it! I’m so sick of it, Keenan! I am sick of you! I wish I had a different brother, or better yet, none at all!”

“Kate,” Keenan whined. I could see tears now.

“I don’t want to hear it from you, go to your room!”

He bolted up the stairs and I heard his bedroom door slam shut. Maybe I was being too harsh, yelling at an eight year old like that, but I didn’t care. I was angry and had to clean up the vase and prepare myself to get yelled at in the morning when my parents returned.

I ended up going to bed after throwing away the shards. I was still fuming and wanted to sleep off the headache I had given myself. I didn’t get to though.

About an hour after I fell asleep, I heard knocking at my door.

“Kate,” Keenan whispered. “Kate, can I come in?”

“Go away.”

“Kate, please. There’s somebody outside my window.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m serious.”

With a sigh, I got up and opened the door. He darted in and jumped onto my bed.

“Oh no, you’re not staying in here. Come with me so I can show you nothing is there.”

He hesitated until I took a step towards him. Then he was scrambling off the bed and taking my hand to lead me to his room.

Pushing back the curtains, I looked out into the darkness.

“See, there’s nothing-”

I stopped then because that’s when I saw something. It was standing just inside the woods behind our house. Its eyes glowed. It was short, not helped by the fact it was hunched over. It was too dark to make out any of its features but I think it had fur.

It looked up at us and suddenly more shadowy figures darted out from behind that one as if they came from the figure itself. Suddenly they were moving, fast, towards the house. Keenan screamed and I panicked.

I picked him up and ran from the room and into mine where I snatched up my phone and attempted to call my mom.

“We’re sorry; your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check the number and dial again.”

“What the hell?”

I tried my dad and got the same message. Finally I dialed 911.

“We’re sorry; your call cannot b-”

I screamed and chucked my phone at the wall.

“Kate!” I looked over to see Keenan pointing at the vent above my bed. I didn’t know why he was doing that until I saw small, dark fingers stick out. They grabbed onto the grate as best they could and began to violently shake it in an attempt to get it loose.

“Keenan, come here!” I grabbed his hand and ran from my room. I was planning on going downstairs, planning on getting into the car and driving off but when we reached the top of the steps, I heard glass breaking and something scrambling across the floor.

I could see one of the other vents downstairs and just like in my room, I saw fingers slip through the openings and grab on. I was considering running back into Keenan’s room and jumping down from there but that quickly died when I heard his bedroom window sliding open.

We couldn’t do anything but hide. My parent’s room was on the other side of the house, past Keenan’s room and I didn’t want to take the chance of getting grabbed by whatever creatures were invading our home.

I took Keenan and ran into the closet at the end of the hallway, right next to the bathroom. I held the door closed, using all my strength to do so as I heard the things moving about. They were stomping and scurrying and it sounded like they were scratching at the walls.

“Kate,” Keenan whimpered.

“Shhh, be quiet.” I didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh but I didn’t apologize. I was too focused on the noise.

The sounds continued to grow louder and louder until finally they stopped and everything went eerily quiet.

It lasted long enough for me to wonder if perhaps I should peek out and see what was going on but then the door handle was turning in my hand and I grabbed on again as the things tried their best to open the door.

I myself attempted to keep the door shut; I really did but in the end it was wrenched open and the creatures poured into the closet. I heard Keenan scream before I was knocked out.

And then I was waking up in my own bed with the sunlight streaming in through the window and the grate above was in place.

I got up and made my way to my brother’s room to see the window closed and him absent from his bed.

Going downstairs, I saw nothing broken or moved and even Mom’s vase was intact and sitting on the table again.

I found Keenan sitting in the kitchen. He looked up at me and said:

“Kate, I’m hungry.”

“…Yeah, okay,” I said dumbly, not sure how else to react. I was at a loss for words and wasn’t sure if I should bring up last night. I was starting to question if it had even happened at all. “What do you want to eat?”

“French toast, please.”

“Alright.”

He smiled at me and while it was wide, it was wrong. So very wrong. It wasn’t his smile. It was slightly crooked, a little smug actually, and didn’t meet his eyes. For a second I thought that this couldn’t be my brother but shook it off. Of course it was. It had to be.

So I turned to go into the fridge to grab what I needed to start making breakfast but stopped and stared at Keenan’s reflection in the chrome of the appliance. His eyes and mouth were nothing but a black void.

“Kate, is something wrong?” The voice was almost mocking.

“Nothing, nothing is wrong. I just didn’t sleep well.”

That was my excuse and he bought it. I think.

When Mom and Dad came home, Keenan ran to them and I stood back and watched as that thing hugged my parents. I didn’t say a word. They wouldn’t have believed me anyway.

Everything was fine at first. This fake was sweet and didn’t do things that would result in me getting into trouble…even if my brother had done all those things by accident, I realized a little too late. For a week now though, this Keenan has started to get more out of control. I think he killed the neighbor’s cat the other day.

I don’t know what happened to my real brother but I think he’s somewhere in the woods with those things.

I go in there sometimes and call him but there’s never any answer. I just hope he’s alive. I know soon enough this imitation Keenan won’t be. I have to protect us. I can’t let him hurt us and maybe, just maybe, those things will come and give me back my little brother when this one goes up in flames.

Mom always said to be careful what I wished for. I should have listened to her.

[anonymouse-thoughts]

Pets AU: 

...To compile the rambles I subjected Gale to & the ones I restrained myself from spamming so I can torment the void instead of poor sweet Gale

Basically: 

Mari’s a dog person

Adrien’s afraid of dogs

Kagami can be either dog or cat person, leaning more towards latter

If Félix is around he claims to dislike pets in general ( “Why would you willingly bring vermin into your home?” )

Mari ends up with a pissy street cat that has decided to adopt her. Mari pretends not to like having the cat around but secretly does

Chloe likes nontraditional pets that everyone things are weird

Dog ends up with one of the Rich Kids ™ because they’re the ones with yards / staff to take it on walks when they’re busy. Like Mari, the rich kids claim to be annoyed at having to deal with the dog and say they only keep it as a favor to Mari but secretly grow to love it

Alternatively, the dog is gotten when Mari finally gets her own apartment (shared dog-raising with pairing of choice) 

Pet Preferences

Marinette: 

THE dog person. Has wanted a dog since she was small. Has not been allowed to have a dog. Will jump a fence to chase after a dog and say hi to it. During night patrols she’ll swing down from the darkness and ask dog owners if she can pet their dogs. Has freaked a few civilians out. After all, no one expects a red-clad, polka dotted teenager to suddenly materialize in front of them, hanging upside down from a yoyo - especially not when said teenager is only supposed to show up to fight superpowered villains. She likes all dogs but loves big dogs. It’s mathematically preferable! You get more dog per dog if you have a big dog. She doesn’t count chihuahuas as dogs. And hairless dogs creep her out. Pugs are on thin ice - she’ll cuddle the ones that have been bred back into having healthy snouts. But she’d willingly die for a puppy of almost any breed. Dogs are admirable and will put others before themselves, though if you hurt them and push them far enough they’ll finally snap at you and good luck getting on their good side again. A dog that has judged you as Bad™ probably has a very good reason for doing so. In this way, stereotypical dog philosophy is very much like her own. Dogs are fun and always ready to go with the flow - given Mari’s impulsive tendencies (ADHD-ish behavior many times), active lifestyle (okay it’s more bc she’s a hectic mess but still), and love for the outdoors (it’s where she gets her best creative ideas), dogs are a match. Amongst the reasons she gives her parents while begging for a dog, she states that she loves cuddling big fluffs (Papas hugs were always her favorites and made her feel safe so her motto for cuddles is the bigger the better + her cat plushie is almost as big as her), she is definitely strong enough to handle a big dog (she carries bags of flour while helping out and probably those huge jugs of milk/cream AND we all know Sabine taught her how to kill defend herself), she has a strong enough personality to get a dog to listen (bc lbr when Mari gets down to business she is a force to be reckoned with), etc etc etc... Add to it that, although a badass, she’s pretty small and how can they not get her a big lovable dog? Right??? Alas, her mom has put down a very firm no. 

Mari instead gets her puppy love by nicely pestering strangers to let her say hi to their floofs. It’s one of the reasons she’s late to class so often, even when she doesn’t sleep in. Prior to being LB she had a slightly better sleep schedule but still got caught up petting dogs in the morning and thus got to class late. Worth it though. 

Local dog owners have started a LB tracking facebook to give a heads up because her random appearances have started to become a bit of a proble- wait, what,,,,, hey wait, no!, what the heck, where did you even come from,,,, there are no buildings to hang from over here, and this is private property,!,, wait no!,!!,,, that’s my dog bring it back!!!,

(She doesn’t actually steal any dogs. She’s very respectful and makes sure to ask if it’s okay to say hi before approaching. She’ll let the dogs sniff at her and then decide if they want to be friends or not. But the fb group’s there because she gets so excited and appears so suddenly that it does freak people out. After she realizes she’s scaring people she tries to get better about making herself known beforehand but with all her training to not be seen + the immediate impulse to snuggle cute puppies she sometimes forgets. )

Reporters have started bringing around dogs to try to get LB to stick around. It works... but she doesn’t answer questions because she’s too busy giving tummy rubs and kissies

Alya is constantly trying to walk dogs / dogsit in hopes of luring LB. Mari is more than happy to join in and help because that means free dog time. Alya is very frustrated that her stakeouts with Mari have never even once ended up with a Ladybug encounter. Mari considers humoring her but that would mean finding an excuse to leave the doggies and then change and then come back only to leave the doggies AGAIN so she could detransform and come back as herself. It was just too much time dog-less.

The people of Paris catch on to LB’s love of dogs and post pictures of their dogs with various “Thank you Ladybug!” posters like dog-shaming but altered to make LB happy. They’ll include things like “Avocado has been inspired by Ladybug to join the fight against Hawkmoth. He even managed to defeat a butterfly today! Granted, it was a regular non-magic one but you gotta start somewhere. #ThanksLB” and post them with a picture of the dumb dog in question 

Telling Chat Noir “I’m more of a dog person ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ” and chuckling as he gets defensive and grumbles about how much better cats are

Chat Noir being annoyed and a little jealous á la Augustus2.0 when LB is showering doggies with love and praise. She definitely heard him mutter bitterly that if the golden retriever puppy was soooooo great then maybe she should have it fight akumas with her and how he was the hero that riSkED HiS LifE for her so he deserved the love and praise

Chat Noir is nervous around big dogs and tries to pretend he isn’t to look cool for LB. He fails. His defense is that THE DOG WEIGHS AS MUCH AS HIM AND COULD FIT HIS HEAD IN ITS MOUTH! HE JUST DOESN’T LIKE BIG DEMON DOGS!! She just rolls her eyes; “Newfoundlands were known as nanny dogs because they’re so gentle and loving, Chat. They’re trained as lifeguards. You’re much more likely to be bit by a Chihuahua or Yorkie.”

“I’m sorry Chat, I’m not into you.” “Not yet ;))” “Mm. Well I plan on having at least one mastiff breed, one shepherd, and one water/snow working breed from the time I move out of my parents’ house until I’m dead. So I guess you’re gonna have to be okay with being around a sum total of 500lbs of dog.”  “...D: ”

Cats whom’s’t’ve’d? She doesn’t hate them... but she’s maybe closer to the dislike end of neutral with regards to them. She’s never been too fond of them because she thinks they’re snobby and they express love by bringing dead icky things. Dogs will just tackle you into a cuddle. She doesn’t like their sharp destructive little claws or tendencies to go after her fashion materials - someone save the yarn! Also the vicious little things end up hurting local wildlife and she much prefers animals that are altruistic like cute fluffy dogs (because paris has to protect the pigeons after all) ((Mr. Pigeon’s rants maayyy have gotten to her at some point)) Besides, even with a cuddly cat you’re still getting less cuddles per pet than you would’ve with a dog simply because dogs are bigger and theres more of them to cuddle. 

Hamsters are cute! ...But kinda boring. And they don’t seem durable enough for her. She’s a little clumsy and chaotic. What if it gets out and gets lost in her clutter and she falls and kills it?! Besides, with her tendency to spiral into the worst possible outcome she’ll worry herself into a panic. 

If she has a parrot screeching near her at the crack of dawn Paris is gonna have a new supervillain because she will be Out For Blood. And unlike Fuckmoth she’d actually be competent.

Reptiles are pretty much the same tier as hamsters and small furry herbivorous mammals for her... maybe slightly below because they’re not fluffy. Still cute though. 

Ferrets are too chaotic even for her. They are not forces she could control. 0-60 and back again in an instant. Besides, are they even legal in Paris? She loves watching videos of them though! 

After enough incidents, her mom has banned her from even mentioning fish in any context outside of dinner. Rip Sashimi, you were around for 13 days but it felt like a bond of 13 years. 

Adrien:

Sheltered all his life so never got to interact with dogs. As a result he’s kinda nervous around them. The big ones especially scare him because they’re big and carnivorous and biG. 

He wasn’t terribly fond of cats before but didn’t have as much of an issue with them because they’re smaller and tend to keep to themselves anyways. Smaller mouths means less space to clamp down with their pointy knife teeth, unlike dogs who have plenty of clamping space. Upon becoming CN likes cats a lot more.

Still though... if he had to pick a pet, it’d probably be a hamster! He can watch it and pet it and then put it back. He can even get a nanny cam to watch it. After all, what is love if not micromanaging every aspect of the subject’s life while keeping a distance and having only minimal interactions or contact? (someone pls hug this boy - after asking him if it’s okay). 

Reptiles are okay. You can also keep them in a glass cage and look and them and maybe poke them now and then. The best kind of relationship. (seriously someone show this child what healthy loving bonds are supposed to be)

Parrots... Well, they have feathers. So unless you want to keep an angry naked toddler with stubby arms and dagger feet screaming through a sharpened megaphone that’s gonna be a No.

Chloe: 

Who knows? 

Not I, said the cat.

Idk I kinda like the idea of Chloe with a turtle or hermit crab or something. 

Or maybe a chameleon!

Something quiet and often overlooked. If you peak into the enclosure you wouldn’t even notice it unless someone pointed it out because it seems to blend in. It’s just... unremarkable.

And it doesn’t try to be.

Andre thinks she should have a fancy expensive french dog or special show-quality cat or an imported horse or something. In fact, he may even buy some of these for her because the princess of Paris should have only the best

But Chloe just likes her grouchy turtle/crab/lizard that will only come out to snatch some celery from her and then go back. In fact, if it’s someone other than Chloe giving the veggie (or whatever you give crabs?) treats then they better just leave it in a corner of the cage because the grouch will either refuse to come closer or there will be biting/pinching if it does. 

Kagami:

Animals are stinky and not meant to be kept in your home.

Dogs in particular are too big and messy. They will bring in dirt from the outside bc dogs HAVE to be taken out at least once per day. They’re slobbery and lick/drool on you. Their tails knock things over.

If they’re in your home they should be there as an exhibit (though with appropriate cage-space, nutrition, etc). This limits it to fish and maaayyybbee some small reptiles. But, again, there has to be appropriate cage-space and the like for the animals to be in humane conditions so restrictions apply. They may call her the Ice Queen but she’d never act so coldly as to subject an animal to a life of misery.

The only exception to her view on pets might be a cat. After all, they’re sleek and graceful and pretty independent. While they’ll come around for affection they won’t be as overtly desperate for it as dogs are. They’re also less needy - you can leave automated feeders, filter fountains for water, and self-cleaning litter boxes. Yes, a cat could be an acceptable companion if she were forced to have one.

Luka: 

He likes dogs. and cats. snakes are neat. turtles are chill too. parrots..... hmmm, it depends on the bird really. He wouldn’t like a bird that screams through his songs and doesn’t let him practice. But it’d be cool to have a pet companion that also appreciates melodies.

He hates rats/mice though. Little pests mess up boats. And guitars.  

*Félix: 

Claims to dislike animals. Appreciates them in pictures and acknowledges the importance of biodiversity but doesn’t like the idea of sharing a home with them. Might consider a snake or turtle because they have pleasing aesthetics, are easy to confine to an area, and don’t really smell. Although he likes looking at snakes he probably wouldnt go out of his way to get one. He just thinks they’re neat.

Will be around the “house-vermin” but only because it makes Mari happy. Actually kinda likes Mari’s pets/any fluffs he takes in at her behest and grows to care for them but he’d never admit it.

 [* = This is Fanon Félix, snarky and Done With Your Shit but also smart and competent and respectful. idk what the show will do to Fé’s character.]

Specific Pets

Lucky

Dog - Irish Setter   (red silky coat + a black spot on tongue)

puppy

How did such a fancy dog end up on the streets?

Just because the human walked in your vicinity does not mean they are trying to be your friend

would be really pretty but covered in soot from time on the streets, making him look like some grimey stray parents wouldn’t want their kids near 

Wants to be your friend!!!!

will follow you around even across busy intersections because Fren!!!!!! 

will go to anyone that calls him, even if it’s a group of teenage jerks that would bully him

his eagerness to approach people to be friends is confused for aggression sometimes

he would follow Menace but he’s no good at stealing food - he stops to try to get pets and then gets shooed and swatted

Loves everyone and wouldn’t hurt a fly! ... Unless you threaten Menace, kids, or the heroes of Paris (he seems to really like LB and CN and often winds up near akumas because that where his spotty friend and weird tail-human friend are!) ((CN is not happy with the four-legged fan))

Seems to bring good luck to those around him, either through some active intervention (biting the bad guy) or by passively existing (distraction on principle of awwww puppy)

He himself, however, seems to have fairly bad luck - a goofy nature and impulse to love leads to him getting stuck in places he shouldn’t be 

Yet, his feline friend is always there to save him by shoving him out of the way of angry taxis to pulling off the chicken wire tangled around him, so maybe he’s got some good luck to himself after all

Hobbies include stalking passerbys and asking for pets but being too musty to be interacted with

Wouldn’t go looking to fight anyone but would step up to help others if someone was being cruel to them... though given his scraggy stature from living on the streets he’d likely get beat up quite a bit during the altercation

Menace

Cat - ????cat? c??ca?? cat??t?tt?ct   (black fur; it’s fuzzy but honestly no one can seem to agree on whether it’s short or long. no one seems to think it’s medium though.)

kitten... possibly a couple weeks older than Lucky, or same age

The terror of the alleyways, tormentor of street vendors and pigeons alike

Can’t stop won’t stop

animal control has tried to catch her

food vendors have tried to catch her

cat ladies have tried to catch her

~all have failed~

Fond of only herself, Lucky, and Marinette

Seems to bring bad luck to those around her, leaving havoc and destruction in her wake

She herself, however, seems to have a decent amount of luck - or at least the skill to stay two steps ahead of everyone

Yet, given her self-imposed responsibility for taking care of Lucky and the endless trouble he’s caught up in maybe she has some bad luck after all

Hobbies include stealing food from tourists, stealing food from locals, and stealing food from Mari

Would fight Hawkmoth and win but she’d rather steal sausages

Honorable Mention: One of Gale’s Lovely Fans and a Fellow ‘Non

            I love being agreed with yay! Newfies were the other ones I was considering but Irish Red Setter seemed more fitting with the ladybug/luck theme.

[boysrockboys]

so, cool story*

*very much an uncool rant about my Sad Family Life and how I am a Depressed Millennial. enter at your own risk.

my 30th birthday came and went (yes i am 30 on tumblr) and my family didn’t go out to celebrate because my parents are short on money right now so they couldn’t afford it. they always talk about it at home so i didn’t press it (yes i live with my parents at 30, i got a divorce and had to move home. a story for another time.)

as a side note they also got me socks for my 30th which is a hilariously bad gift as I famously do not wear socks and so of course i was Very Hurt. truthfully it’s not about the “socks are cheap” thing - which is what my parents think, because in this family money matters y’all, and feelings don’t! - it’s about the “you could’ve gotten me almost anything else that was less than $20 and it would’ve been better than socks in terms of suiting who I am as a person” so, that’s the set up.

cue the dinner table last night. it is revealed that no one has plans this weekend so mum suggests we go out for lunch. i am a little hurt, because of the aforementioned lack of meal for my 30th circling of the sun. but hey, mum says a lot of stupid shit, and surely dad will say “we can’t afford that” or if we do go out it will be to somewhere cheap and cheerful.

smash cut to this morning. brother suggests a place, dad counter-suggests a different place, mum then cuts in and suggests a very nice, very EXPENSIVE place. a silence. then everyone just agrees with her because she has already stormed out the house twice this morning over unrelated things and is stroppy and so no one is willing to challenge her.

this is how a table is booked for a lunch just because (“just because” being code for “my mother gets what she wants”) while my birthday went completely unnoticed by the family. cha ching baby. tragic backstory engaged.

i am now sobbing in a sort of loud-hippo-mating-noise kind of way. maybe that hippo is also having a heart attack at the moment of climax because there’s a lot of choking noises happening too. someone make me a movie star because i am the epitome of glamour.

it’s hard to know which one would hurt more - not going, or being there knowing that the whole thing is just a “to keep mum happy” facade. but i chose to exclude myself from the narrative which is why i am here typing this while they’re playing happy families and spending money we don’t have. i tell myself that this is a good choice, that at least i am allowed to decide the specific way in which i feel like shit - as if that semblance of control is enough for me to feel less negated. i want to talk to them about it, but i know how it would go. i know any “i feel bad” would be met with “i feel worse, and here’s why YOU should feel sorry for ME” by my mother. trying to get them to understand that i have feelings is like screaming into a void. but i can’t complain because they let me live here rent free and they buy all the groceries. and if i did complain i would be angrily reminded of that fact, like they don’t do the exact same thing for the dog. they don’t “treat me like a dog” but they certainly don’t do any more for me than that.

i just feel like i don’t exist in this family.

i just want to float away.

[noodle-is-gudle]

Here’s Me Bitching: A Master Post

Christmas is just around the corner and, of course, that signals stresses to pop back out of the woodwork. Presents are still to be made and god knows they have to be done perfectly, but I’m just struggling. I’ve been wanting to keep my social down on media for a while and this break I really strive to keep a relaxed mood. The constant bombardment of interactions from people for the last 5 months, plus working, has caused me to want to drop all talking with everyone. Nobody is perfect and everyone is just... ugh right now.  Below this cut, I warn you, is mostly me rambling about my life and whatever fucking stress I’ve dealt with. Also a lot of ranting about parent history. Not looking for an “it will get better” or “sorry hun” kinda thing. I guess I just want to yell into the Tumblr void. 

Maybe I’ve been a bitch on my end with trying to space myself away from everyone, but that doesn’t make the other parties any less guilty of being bitches. If people could just understand that I prefer to be by myself when doing most everything then life would be fucking exceptional, but not everyone grasps that. Even now my phone is exploding with conversations and I just have to turn them off.  It’s gotten me into some trouble, though. I try to make an effort to go and be social, but some people are harder to force yourself to be around than others when you’re already on empty. Those are the people that the very thought of talking to them makes you want to go into a coma for a month just to escape and maybe catch some Z’s.  Traveling has been difficult for me these last three months. The cold doesn’t help, but from the lack of sleep and traveling just about every day to and from the city had left my body weak and my mind frustrated. Everyone... and I mean everyone, was a struggle to keep around. Between going to bed somewhere between 2 AM-5AM, getting up at 5:45 AM, and catching a train for 7 AM, I just found myself becoming more stressed and angrier.  I’m someone who loves to go out and explore. I didn’t get to do that much until I started exploring with my partner, and you better believe I wanted to go adventuring every damn weekend, but as the school year went on and projects became finals, I found myself spending my weekends sleeping and working. No, the cold wouldn’t stop me from exploring, but sleep sure as fuck can. I hadn’t been reaming for WEEKS, and I’m a very elaborate dreamer. Just this week I’ve gained those plot-filled dreams again and that means that I’m caught up enough and not as stressed. I feel alive and refreshed on that note, but I still need a damn break from humans, holy shit.  On the topic of the trouble scene, this has caused some horrid issues with my mother (which is really no surprise if I’ve ever talked to you about her). Now, my mother has been through some shit, ladies and gents. This woman’s back is just a degenerating mess where she has to walk with a walker and she had a stroke just about a year ago. She’s not even 40 yet. Not to mention her husband and “love of her life” has been playing the “leave and come back�� chase game so many times I’ve lost count. I’ve seen her lose her mind. I’ve heard her scream about dying, wanting to die, waiting to die, and so forth. I try to make an effort to see her when I can, but school has been worse and worse with the workload due to the classes I want taking (including a costuming class that was about a 6-hour class into the night, taking up a lot of my time). That’s something she doesn’t understand though. That’s where the problem lies. She believes that I can “make time” to text, call, or come down to see her. I could barely find time to sleep or do anything that gave me any sort of happiness by myself. Me time didn’t exactly exist for three months, folks. Not to mention sometimes her texts don���t get through or my phone doesn’t alert me. Me having an android and her having an apple make a connection a little difficult sometimes.  I could very well make time, I guess if I truly wanted to text/ talk on the phone for hours about her and her drama or how she’s constantly sick.  I feel bad that she’s sick, but she never tells me she’s sick until she’s guilting me or wanting me to feel sorry for her. Guess that’s the same thing, actually.  She’s not a saint. She plays mind games and takes joy in it no matter who it is. She has to be right about everything. Now, I’ve tried to get away from these traits that I have picked up from her. I don’t play mind games in the same sense as her and I used to scream a lot about being right when I wasn’t. I think I’m better than I was in high school because I want to actually learn because I make mistakes (a lot of them). The problem is she is my mother, but she’s a bully and bullies her own children. I think a lot of our issues could be solved if she’d listen to my side or my feelings without forcing me to feel another way. She’s kicked me out of her life 3 times now, 2 of which she forced me to come back against my consent to being ready to see her. When I was told I had to go back to her house I cried. I remember crying out of fear until the day I’d get there. And she wouldn’t sit me down with her (I was 16-18 around these times) and talk things out like a mother would. I’d sit in angry silence and she’d have the house dark. She’d move around the room like nothing had happened and start telling me to get over it. Just telling me that I was in the wrong each time for our fights.  I remember the first fight involved her husband (fiance at the time) coming back home after running off to Florida and leaving my mother homeless. She was moved back in with her parents until she had a place of her own again. During the time he was away I was hurt that he’d leave my mother because he didn’t want to live up north. He’s fucking extreme like that. My mom, who had moved out of her parents not that long ago, was now back there and depressed that her lover left her. She threated to throw her engagement ring into the river and wanted to find someone else. I remember messaging him how disgusted I was that he left our family (and it wasn’t the first time he had also left around my birthday once). In my eyes, he was dead to me, so of course, after my mother gets her own place and we make it our own I’m fucking pissed that he’s back and we all act like nothing happened. That was fight number one. A little more on the angry teenager side, but damn, I still feel pretty right on that end for being pissed. I think the reason I was most pissed was that she refused to let me go home until I screamed, thus her calling me a “monster” as she’s talking shit on me in the other room (there are thin walls, I can hear you). I remember for a month I was in a “shut-down” state (which, looking back, was definitely a fit of depression) with my CD player on loop to “Sleep” by MCR. I can’t listen to that song anymore after a month of just that.  Fight #2 happened all because I wanted to go to a birthday party. A friend, I think, was having their 18th on a weekend I was with my mother (custody agreement had my brother and I go over every other weekend). Anytime friends had things going on for the weekend I was at her place she refused to let me go. This weekend wasn’t any different, but for some reason being a senior and having this still happened to me threw me overboard. I don’t remember most of the converstaion, other than me being pissed and her being MORE pissed that I was some sort of horrible child. Again, kicked out of the house for a month and forced back against my will.  Here we are in fight 3. This time I was so calm it’s a weird contrast between my other fights. I think the only reason I’m mad is that this fight had me so upset I had to cancel my plan to go to Cracker Barrel with my partner. YOU DON’T KEEP A BOY AWAY FROM HIS CRACKER BARREL.  Anyway. My mother texts me out of nowhere as I’m ready to take a nap before we go out, “I text you, you never answer”. Now I had texted her Friday when she asked me about coming down for the weekend when I told her I couldn’t because of Christmas shopping (and some other personal matters that kept me from going down). She had invited me to some Christmas party for Saturday night at this... bar club thing? I don’t really know what it is, but I’m not 21 yet and I hate being surrounded by people drinking... But Saturday was a rough day and I knew it would be given the personal matters that were going down on that day unexpectedly, so I had to decline. Being at a place with drinking I don’t think would have been the best environment.  Aparently she texted me on Saturday. A picture of my stepdad singing, I believe. The something about a house? I’m guessing given the text was specifically “the house” it’s either about a new house or our old house that we’re sure was haunted by something. So I feel kinda bad because I don’t know what texts she’s talking about, but then, BUT THEN, before I can text anything about not know what she means by “the house” she texts... “I feel forgotten” “I want to cancel xmas” Hold the phone, honey. You want to cancel Christmas because I didn’t see two texts you sent me that I don’t think I ever got? Well, one, I’m not a small child anymore. Cancelling a holiday I don’t even enjoy isn’t going to make me change my spirits and cling to you like flies on honey. So here we start to have the dramatic shit, which pisses me off to no end, but I stay cool. Gotta stay cool with my partner right next to me.  She clarifies it’s the old house.  Then when I ask her why she wants to cancel she answers that no one comes over or wants to see her. Which, okay, I usually don’t want to go over, but keep in mind finals just ended the friday she originally texted me about coming over. That was my first day of vacation and I was fucking gonna sleep. Not travel in traffic. One FUCKING day to myself is NOT too much to ask when I was in the CITY almost ALL WEEK. Not to mention my brother was over the week before. She then goes to tell me she only bought me one gift, which okay. That’s cool. I only ever give one gift to people and I asked for money this year from people because I don’t have room for things. I’d rather go out to dinner or go see a movie or, I dunno, save up for an apartment.  She goes on to say she hasn’t seen me in a month (finals time, which has been explained to her by countless people) and tells me I stopped caring. Holy shit, here we go with the putting feelings on my character bio. Tries to guilt me by saying my brother cries that he’s lonely (to which I plan to hang with him more during the break) and talks about her husband wanting to move to Florida again which is nothing new it’s all he fucking talks about so just go already???? She tells me how things aren’t the same... Like, yeah Sherlock, your kids are adults and one is in college now. How the fuck were things going to stay the same?  She then goes on to say she’s invited me down many times and that she’s not going to ask me down anymore. See, I find the irony of this being that she kept me away from so many friends that would think the same thing (I invite you over many times and you never come over). She had asked me to come down during the week before Christmas when I’m on break, which I can’t do. I haven’t been able to make any presents during the school year and this week was dedicated to making those (and I have  LOT to make). Keep in mind she also believes that just because my partner can drive, then that means I can come down whenever, which is wrong because what the fuck? He’s not some personal chauffeur for me. I hate to ask him to drive me places. I tell her that I’ll see her Christmas Eve because she’s coming over for Seven Fishes with everyone else. Apparently that hurt her. Now, in this moment, you can see me going through every moment of my life where she hurt me.  This is where I have enough and tell her that I’m not doing this. That I’m not having her guilt me into coming over. That I’ve been busy for months now and the one FUCKING time I was free her husband RUINED THAT BECAUSE HE SCREAMED HORRIBLE SHIT INTO MY BROTHER’S FACE AND TO MAKE IT WORSE MY PARTNER WAS THERE AND HAD TO SEE THAT ALL. HOW FUCKING DARE HE CALL MY BROTHER A “MOTHER FUCKER” AND LATER PERSUADE MY MOTHER THAT HE DID NOTHING WRONG. THE ONE FUCKING TIME I COME OVER, THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE WHO YOU DO NOTHING BUT CHASE AFTER RUINS THAT SHIT TO WHERE I’M CRYING FOR HOURS FROM PURE EMBARRASSMENT JUST AFTER BEING MAD AT YOU LAST MONTH FOR INSULTING MY RELATIONSHIP, SAYING THAT IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE WHEN WE CUDDLE ON THE COUCH NEAR YOU. YOU KNOW WHAT’S UNCOMFORTABLE, MOTHER DEAREST? WATCHING A MAN WALK ALL OVER YOU AND CALL YOU FAT WHEN YOU’RE STARVING. WATCHING A MAN GROPE YOUR ASS RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. HEARING THE TWO OF YOU BICKER ABOUT MONEY FOR NO FUCKING REASON. WATCHING A MAN REFUSE TO SAY HE LOVES YOU IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE WHEN YOU SAY IT TO HIM. YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE TO BEG FOR LOVE. I’M SCARED OF LIVING WITH PEOPLE BECAUSE OF YOU TWO.  AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT’S THE MOST UNCOMFORTABLE THING ABOUT ABOUT YOUR RELATIONSHIP, MY DEAR SWEET MOTHER? KNOWING THAT ANIMAL HAS YOU WRAPPED AROUND HIS FINGER. THAT ��NO” FROM YOU IS SILENT AND YOU CAN’T SAY THAT TO HIM. THAT HE CAN DO WHATEVER HE WANTS TO YOU AND YOUR BODY AGAINST YOUR CONSENT. THAT’S NOT LOVE. THAT’S FUCKING INSANE. I don’t care that you don’t want to chase me, even though you will chase me like all the other toxic fucking people in my life do. I wish you’d get the help you need, but you’re gone. You’re not the mother I loved growing up. You’re not my mother. You’re what he made you. Keeping you in that house by yourself. You sit and rot into a disrespectful monster of human flesh, waiting for the next person to be pissed at who doesn’t agree with your sick, sad, twisted world. You used to care about people. Used to actually smile. But once he came into your life you just degenerated into this sad thing, and I want to help you after all the shit you two have put down on me. Made me see. Made me hear. Made me feel. That part of me that loves you unconditionally wants to help you get the help you need, but you don’t listen. Because you’re right. You’re always right.  Christmas is canceled. Fuck it.