#that time it was a tweety bird shirt though

[doubledyke]

🎶 my girl eddy used to always smoke cigarettes when she couldn't sleep 🎶

[agnaeoh]

Stories about my dad:

When I was 19, I tore a tendon during a soccer game. My dad carried me off the field even though I was much to big for that.

Speaking of soccer, my dad never missed a game for 14 years. He was the loudest parent on the sidelines. His favorite encouragement was to yell "boot it!"

Sometimes on my Dad's lunch breaks at work, I would meet him at the subway for lunch. He knew every employee's name and would ask about their kids and school and stuff. And they all knew his name.

When he was in the hospital with cancer, we weren't allowed to visit him for a month due to covid restrictions. When we were finally allowed in, the nurses knew all about me and my siblings. The only thing they were confused about was our ages. They said they never had a man talk about his adult children as affectionately as my dad did, so they assumed we were kids.

His best friend in highschool was in a wheelchair and got picked on and physically abused by other students. So my dad started taking taekwondo so he could protect him.

When my car broke down, my dad came and helped fix it in a parking lot after work. It took two hours and was below freezing.

I have seen my father angry, but never at me. I have heard him yell, but never at me. In fact between the two, my mother was far scarier. (She is great too, but not a softee like my dad) My dad was 6'3" and could punch through a board like it was nothing. But I don't remember ever being afraid of him. I don't even remember him ever being upset with me, though I'm sure he was. The only time he ever hurt me was the bloody nose I got when he swore to me that if I just held up my baseball glove, the ball would not hit me in the face. I lost my Tweety bird shirt that day.

And when he died, the church was standing room only. Way over capacity. Don't tell the fire chief.

Good fathers exist.

as far as I'm concerned, "good father" is a type of cryptid

[servingy-nneeds]

PROMPT:HOW WOULD THEY REACT WITH A BIG BREASTED S/O: PRO HERO EDITION

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

When he first met you it was during an interview with one of your co-walker while he was making his daily rounds at the city. He had turned up his charms and straight up asked for your number after he spotted you at the side editing the scripts after the interview.

“Heeeyyy, So like I know those already break your back, but like give me a chance and I’ll give you another reason for broken back”

Deadass you thought he was sleazy with that comment. If he wasn’t so much as a chatter box you would had consider giving this guy your number. Note the word CONSIDER

“Try that again with me and I’ll shove my fist so far up your ass I swear you’ll be tasting my nail polish for week, tweety bird”

Hoo boi Hawk’s had never been put in his place before; usually girls blush bashfully with his crude comment. Having caught your attention now he decided it was fun enough to fuck with you mess with you

Anyways your phone never stop blowing up from his messages since that day. Someone from your office gave him your number, you suspected it was the news anchor lady he did the report with.

Wants to think that he’s also the tits are just tits kind of guy

But really is obsessed with the pillowy feeling he gets after getting a hug from you. He is quite touchy when given the chance

“There’s my favorite baby bird, how ‘bout giving this hero a warm hug yeah?” he asked you opening his arms

"You do know that newly birthed birds are ugly AF right? I still wonder how you managed to hook up with those models I heard of with those lame ass pick up line" you retorted back to him, yet again shooting down his advances.

He must be some kind of masochist you thought because he kept coming back for your insults or maybe it's his plan in order to warm you up with the idea of him hanging around you

At present both of you are now in a relationship? Honestly, you can’t remember when it happened he just made himself at home one day and started leaving random stuff within your apartment and called it his chill spot.

Has some abandonment issues but we don’t talk about that. So having some sort of skin ship helps himself ground from feelings of loneliness.

Will try to sneak in a hand or two for a squeeze or two whenever you are wearing his shirt cropped at the back for his wings, any shirt he begs to differ. This habit of his haven’t disappeared when you two got married.

BONUS✨:When the two of you started getting comfortable with each others company, he had the audacity to turn your breast as some kind of stress ball. Don’t worry though he treats the girls gently, at times. Expect a bite marks or two. 

Peep at the reference

[gohyuck]

pairing: ceo!lee donghyuck (haechan) x cfo!reader

genre: slight angst, fluff, smut (that’s a first for this acc o.o)

word count: 3.6k

warnings: explicit heterosexual sex (slight dom!hyuck)... like, really, over 50% of this is just sex lol. not a warning but hyuck is implied to be bisexual in this, it’s hinted at once or twice

a/n: sm knew what they were doing, making the 127s play office in full business attire. also, i still think we should eat the rich. just saying. this is not meant to glorify billionaires. i just think hyuck is hot. also! cfo = chief finance officer. 

part of a series?: yes, 37.5% viewer ratings, my hyuck bday celebration

🎵 often - the weeknd

☀️ push and pull

“i already emailed you this month’s finance report and talked to the men from kim corp. - i think they’ll end up being major investors. my balance forecasts are done, and,” you pause in your report, your gaze meeting donghyuck’s across his desk before you continue speaking, one corner of your lip quirking up slightly. “and you have a hickey that’s a little too high for your collar to cover.”

“i - what?” the ceo of lee technologies, ltd. hisses out the last word, his brow furrowing as he processes what you’ve just said. you put a finger up, silently telling him to give you a moment, before you pull your purse off of the floor and onto your lap. it takes you less than a minute of rummaging to find what you’re looking for: a compact mirror. donghyuck all but snatched it out of your hand, and you see him visibly redden once he realizes that you aren’t pulling his leg.

“shit, (name), i have meetings all day today,” he groans, slumping backwards into his far-too-expensive office chair. donghyuck shuts your mirror and tosses it haphazardly onto your desk before running both his hands down his face in incredulity and embarrassment. his neck is bared as he does this, allowing you to survey the mark further: it’s a deep red and clear as day, likely having been brought into existence the night before. you wonder briefly who it’s from - the pretty secretary who always bats his eyes at the ceo, the diligent but meek girl who can’t keep her eyes off of donghyuck and works in hr on floor 14, the red-lipped and cat-eyed ceo of the company that operates out of the top floors of the highrise next to you? you doubt you’ll ever know. as your heart twinges slightly, you realize that you don’t want to know. 

donghyuck groans again, although it dissolves into a petulant whine this time. a chuckle falls from your lips without you wanting to let one out, and your boss glares at you because of this.

“don’t look at me like that,” you scoff, turning your attention back to your bag for a moment. hyuck watches as you triumphantly pull a band-aid from one of the smaller pockets. “here! it’s small enough to be covered by this.”

donghyuck narrows his eyes.

“is it professional for a company’s ceo to walk around with a highlighter yellow tweety bird band-aid on his neck?” he asks, quirking one eyebrow as he does. still, he leans forward, placing his forearms on his desk and clasping his hands together as he does.

“is it professional for a company’s ceo to walk around with evidence that he’s getting laid on his neck?” you throw back, and donghyuck stares at you for a moment before sighing, slumping his shoulders, and reaching his hand out. you drop the band-aid into your outstretched palm.

“it’ll be fine, hyuck,” you tell your boss and longtime friend as he picks your compact up again, using the mirror to place the band-aid properly. “it might even humanize you a little bit.”

“humanize me?” donghyuck asks, though the small lilt to his voice tells you that he’s just fishing for compliments. he knows what you mean. still, you have time today, so you humor him.

“your reputation is all ‘young god’, ‘untouchable billionaire’, ‘genius entrepreneur’, ‘national playboy’,” you point out, watching as donghyuck’s smirk grows, making him look a little bit like an overexcited frat boy. his expression directly contrasts his crisp gray tom ford suit and franck muller watch. “tweety bird might make you more... approachable.”

the young ceo thinks about your words for a moment before flipping his wrist towards himself to read the time. it’s 10:27 - he needs to get down to the main conference room. you stand as donghyuck does, letting him walk past you before you follow. the band-aid is even brighter underneath lights, you note, and you can’t help but smile to yourself at this. donghyuck places his hand on the door handle, though, right before he opens it, he turns back to you.

“you forgot sex icon.”

“what?” your eyes widen for a moment before you force your brows down, scowling at donghyuck’s statement.

“when you were naming off things that make me larger-than-life, you forgot to say sex icon.” he grins, his tone as matter-of-fact as its ever been.

“who says?” you throw back, determined not to let your friend’s ego inflate so easily. he grins before leaning towards you, closer and closer until his mouth is right against your ear. you do your best not to let your breath hitch at the proximity.

“cosmopolitan. they interviewed me for the cover last month, remember? came in the mail today. i’ll give you a signed copy of you want. courtesy of your favorite sex icon.” he tells you, and you swear his lips brush your earlobe before he pulls back, mirth dancing in his eyes. before you can say anything, donghyuck pulls his office door open, stepping aside as he does.

“after you.”

♕ ♕ ♕

the lee donghyuck that exists within his private office and the lee donghyuck that exists outside of it are two entirely different people. his posture is still easy, still open, still exceedingly confident, but the moment he steps out of his office his back straightens up, one hand going to adjust his tie and the other slipping into one of his dress pants’ pockets. he goes from hyuck to haechan, meaning fullsun, the name given to him by the media at some gala or the other a couple years ago. hyuck is your friend from college, a brilliant programmer and free entertainment for those close to him. haechan is a charismatic but cold leader, his eyes calculating as he surveys the empire he’s only just begun building.

he walks out after you, but immediately commands everyone’s gaze. donghyuck’s office is in the corner of the 18th floor - the highest floor of the skyscraper. all of the offices on this floor belong to executives - hell, your office is right next to his, your one wall with floor-to-ceiling windows adorned entirely with a row of potted plants both small and huge - but there’s always plenty of other people milling around on the floor: possible investors, lost interns, secretaries, and employees with questions. today is no exception: several pairs of eyes are directed to the ceo as you stroll out, him in tow. 

nobody says anything about the obvious band-aid on haechan’s neck. 

“i’ll see you after work,” donghyuck mutters discreetly into your ear, and you nod as imperceptibly as possible before giving your friend a parting smile. 

as you head back to your office, haechan’s secretary joins him in step, tablet in hand, to read him off his schedule. as you close your door behind you, ready to bask in the sunlight that’s filtering in, you can’t help but scrutinize the secretary’s slightly rosier-than-usual cheeks, nor the way haechan had straightened his shoulders while speaking to the other man. 

if you were one for betting, you’d put down money on the fact that you’ve probably just found the culprit responsible for donghyuck’s bright yellow band-aid. you shake your head sadly as you set your things down on your desk. 

the poor boy’s going to get his heartbroken soon. 

after all, if there’s one thing donghyuck and haechan have in common, it’s this: commitment is not in the cards. you know this better than anyone. 

♕ ♕ ♕

“hyuck, i-”

“shut the fuck up.” donghyuck hisses into your ear, tugging harshly at the front of your shirt as he backs you into the closed door of his office. the material rips away easily, buttons skittering onto his floor as he shoves his warm mouth against yours. your hands go up to snake around his shoulders immediately, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as he draws whimpers from your lips. once you part for air, you watch as he studies you for a moment. his tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip, and his eyes are beautifully hooded. 

you’re already gasping for air. you’re already drowning in him. 

“this blouse was from saks, you asshole,” you manage to get out, though you sound more like a petulant child than the indignant business executive you are. he chuckles almost mockingly, simply raising an eyebrow at this before he starts shrugging his suitjacket off, placing it across the back of the chair in front of his desk. 

“it’s your fault for wearing a $300 shirt to work,” he throws at you, no bite in his voice. you can’t help but roll your eyes as you push yourself off the door, making to follow him as he settles down into his office chair. 

“you’re one to talk - your suit is, what, $4,000 at least? don’t get me started on the fact that you’re wearing a 5-digit watch.” you make your way so you’re standing directly in front of him, shirt torn open to expose your bra and part of your stomach and the top of your skirt hugging your waistline perfectly. donghyuck sticks his tongue into his cheek before leaning forward and tugging you onto his lap with ease, smirking as your skirt flies up momentarily. 

“touché.” 

his hands cup your ass, fingertips pressing into your skin as he forces them up past your safety shorts. you rise up slightly so you’re situated above hyuck, cupping his face as you look into his eyes. he grins up at you. 

“this,” he squeezes your left asscheek fondly before meeting your eyes with his own mischievous gaze. “this is why i instituted a casual dress policy.”

“one hell of a policy, considering the ceo himself doesn’t adhere to it.” 

“i don’t need to, baby,” your heart flutters at the term of endearment, and you will it to stop immediately. “after all, i’m the boss, remember?”

“you’re a pig.” you throw back, and he only chuckles before attaching his lips to the skin above your collarbone. donghyuck laves his tongue over the fresh bruises as he dots your clavicle with them, forcing you closer to him by forcefully pushing your hips down towards his. as his lips move southward, brushing over your open chest and spilling kisses onto the tops of your bra-clad breasts, you can’t help but keen loudly and grind down on him of your body’s own accord. 

“someone’s hasty to get marked up,” your friend points out, not waiting for a response as he reaches into the large hole in your shirt - a lee donghyuck creation - and around your back, popping your bra open. your mind is too hazy to respond at first, in part due to the way he slips your bra straps down your arms, chasing them with wet, open-mouthed kisses across your shoulders before pulling the article of clothing off of you entirely. you can’t help but buck slightly against him as your breasts meet the cool air, and he takes this opportunity to wrap his sinful lips against one of your nipples, one of his hands coming up to run his thumb over the other one. 

“you’re - ha - you’re one to talk. mark? really?”

“he’s a good secretary,” donghyuck pulls his mouth off of you momentarily to speak, eyes sparkling as if he knows he’s teasing you, and you can’t help but flick your own eyes upward in annoyance. suddenly, you feel the need to have his dick in you immediately, as if it’ll fill the growing hole in your heart. you adjust yourself, and donghyuck watches, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you steady, as you pull your safety shorts off.

he immediately drops a hand to your leg, tracing a finger up the expanse of your inner thigh as his other hand reaches up to grab your chin, gently forcing you to face him so your eyes meet. your mouth goes dry just as he slips two fingers into your wet heat, and you can’t help yourself as you rut forwards, grinding on his hand. the whine you let out has donghyuck’s eyes becoming even more hooded, almost naturally smoky, and you can’t help but gasp at the sight. 

“he’s a good secretary,” donghyuck says again, and you realize he hadn’t finished his thought earlier. you hate that he’s speaking about another person when his fingers are knuckle deep inside your sopping heat, but it’s donghyuck - your hyuck, who’d held your hair back when you puked at frat parties and who let you crash on his dorm room floor whenever it was too late to walk to your own place - and you can’t say anything about it. “but if you wanted me to yourself, you could’ve just said so.” 

your heart stops, but not before he has the audacity to wink at you. 

“we need to fuck,” you choke out, finding it hard to breathe even though his hands are nowhere near your throat. “now.” 

the desperation in your voice, the way your pert nipples are right in his face, and the way you’re humping his hand like a bitch in heat all have donghyuck groaning and rolling his head back on his shoulders. he flicks his chin towards the top drawer of his desk right behind you, and you use one hand to brace yourself against his shoulder as you lean back to pull the drawer open. this unwittingly forces hyuck’s fingers to angle deeper inside you, hitting the bundle of nerves in the back of your cunt exactly in a way that has you moaning his name long and low. your grip slips off of the drawer handle without you meaning to, and you scramble, patting your hand haphazardly around in the drawer before you come across a condom. you pull it out, slamming the drawer shut triumphantly before turning back to hyuck. he pulls his fingers out of you before you come, much to your chagrin, but you realize that you’ll be coming around his cock in no time. 

“my blouse was actually about $600,” you say, your eyes meeting his as you tear open the wrapper. he lets out a chuckle before raising his fingers - covered in filmy strings of your arousal - to his mouth and wrapping his tongue around them like it’s the easier thing in the world. you feel yourself clench. he wraps one arm around you before shifting slightly, and you realize he’s unzipping his own pants.

“i’ll buy you another one.” is all donghyuck says before pulling out his thick length, and you swallow on impulse as his bulbous tip, oozing precum, comes into your view. you want it - need it, you decide as you recall his earlier statement about having him for yourself - and you need it now. you hand him the condom, and he rolls it on with a small grunt before both of his hands fly to your ass. just as you’re about to sit down properly on his cock, fill your voids the way they’re meant to be completed. donghyuck stops you with his hands on your hips. 

you look down at him, and your eyes meet his for what feels like the millionth time tonight. 

“are you sure?” he asks, and you fall deeper in love with him even though he’s doing the minimum. you’re sure, you realize, and you nod before remembering that he has to hear you say it. 

“yes, i’m sure.” your voice is uncharacteristically quiet, but donghyuck says nothing of it. he grips your thighs, spreading them as much as he can without pushing you off the chair - he’s grateful it has no handles - before pressing his tip to your entrance. you press both of your hands into your shoulders as you sink yourself onto his throbbing dick, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you do. it takes you a moment to adjust - usually the foreplay is much longer - but once you’re ready, you start bouncing on donghyuck’s cock, setting the pace for yourself. 

it doesn’t take long for you to get to the brink of orgasm - riding hyuck has always placed the head of his dick directly against the place inside you that makes you see white behind your eyes. for his part, he shoves you down onto himself when you start tiring out, tugging on a nipple in between his teeth or running his tongue down against your skin or slapping your ass and causing you to buck against him as he sees fit. 

you’ve been friends with benefits for almost a year, now, and the sex only gets better. 

you’ve been friends with benefits for almost a year, now, and everyday, every damn day, you curse your heart more and more. you curse your feelings when donghyuck whines as he nears his high, too, and you curse yourself for spending your ability to love deeply on the one person who won’t take it as he finally takes over, anchoring you against his body while his hips snap up into yours. he’s chasing your orgasm just as much as he’s chasing his, and when donghyuck pulls you down to smash his lips against yours, forcing you to taste the red wine he’d had with dinner on his tongue, while circling your clit with one finger like a madman, you can’t help but let go completely, clenching and spasming and shaking around his length and in his arms. this is all it takes to push him over the edge, too - he spills into the condom with a beautiful, keening whine against your shoulder.

it’s only when donghyuck looks up at you after catching his breath and his face falls that you realize you’re crying. 

“(name) - sweetheart, what’s wrong? did i hurt you?”

his recognition of your state has the dam breaking, and you shake your head frantically to soothe him as your tears start falling more heavily. he wraps his arms around you immediately, pulling you into his chest as he does. donghyuck waits patiently for you to speak.

“i - i can’t do this anymore,” you start off, and you feel his arms tense around you. before he can interject or argue, you forge ahead. “i cant! i can’t fuck you and stay your friend - just your friend. i can’t sleep with you knowing that you’re the only one for me when you’re out there hunting down anyone that looks at you, i just - i can’t. i can’t...” you trail off, breaking down into sobs again while burrowing your face into his shirt. it’s expensive, you know it is, and now it’s ruined with your tearstains. you try not to think about it. 

donghyuck is silent for one, two, three beats. for a long moment, all you can hear are the sounds of your own bawling, your own quiet sniffling and hiccuping. his hand runs a soothing trek down your back.

finally, he speaks.

“i haven’t fucked anyone else in 6 months.”

that is the one thing you’d never expected him to say. 

“but... mark? the hickey?”

“that’s all it was,” he says, forcing you back slightly to be able to look at you as he speaks. hyuck raises a hand, wiping your stray tears away gently with his thumb before continuing. “for 6 months, i’ve kissed people and made out with them, but only half-heartedly. every time it’s gotten close to getting heated, i’ve had to stop. do you know why?”

you shake your head, sniffling as you do. his heart cracks at how forlorn you look, how innocent and confused you seem. he’s suddenly well-aware of the fact that he’s still sheathed inside your dripping pussy. 

“because every time i was with someone - anyone - else, all i could think of was you. you’re the only one for me, baby. i think you always have been. i didn’t say anything because i didn’t think you’d want me.”

“not want you?” your voice is strong enough to sound properly incredulous now. “you know me better than anyone else. you’ve been there for me when i’ve needed you, and you’ve asked me to be there for you when you’ve needed me. we built all of this together. you’re everything, hyuck. you’re my everything.” 

he lowers his head almost bashfully, and you know that he’s processing what you’re saying. donghyuck’s never been good at registering compliments - it’s a side-effect of always moving, always pushing forward - but you can tell that he’s savoring your words. it makes him even more endearing in your eyes. eventually, he looks up at you again, soft smile gracing his features. 

“are we good?” he asks, and you can feel your heart sewing itself together again at the genuine honesty in his eyes. he really does love you back. you nod, before leaning in to capture his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. 

“we’re good.”

bonus: 

“this is great, and i’m going to ravish you when we get home, but right now i really, really need to get this condom off and you probably really need to piss,” donghyuck says, lifting his hips to force you off of him. you swing your legs over to stand, leaning against his desk for support as you watch him tie the condom up and toss it into the bin underneath his desk. 

“when we get home?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. donghyuck stuffs his cock back into his boxers and makes sure his slacks are on properly before standing up to situate himself in front of you. he takes both of your hands in his. 

“you think i’m letting you spend a night alone when you said i’m the only one for you? not fucking likely. now hit up the bathroom and then let’s go,” he says, fishing his car keys out of his pocket. “i brought the bugatti today.”

[lilac-den]

Hello dear author! How would the ROs react if they came home from a mission to find the MC asleep in their bed snuggling one of their shirts? Thank you!

Cracks knuckles. . . I’mma assume relationship-stage. . .

Zeus: The mission had been tough, as with many other mission. Zeus is a soldier, a dedicated fighter. No iota of complaints have ever crossed their mind.

But this time? It’s the first they ever feel irritated to have this mission drag so long.

Zeus is a clean-cut method for the company to utilize - a top weapon agent in their arsenal. But even they can’t stomach the haughty attitudes of those who belittle the responsibilities at work. That, and the fact they’re also the reason they have drag the mission far longer than it should.

Even Ares was scowling over the governmental agents slacking their asses off. If it wasn’t for Zeus and co, this mission would have gone for a week instead of five days straight. Zeus has already made a promise to spend the whole weekend, and they plan to keep that promise.

The keys rattle and click against the lock, allowing Zeus to step into their apartment with an exhausted sigh. God, they smell. It won’t do good to visit their beloved in such a state. Stripping their suit jacket off, they made their way into their room...

Only to blink upon the sight before them.

There was [Name], all curled up on their bed with their shirt in their grasp. What was once a neatly clean bed, with settled and smoothed out sheets, is now all wrinkled about and the sole chaos in a room of the organized structure.

A light tinge warms their torso.

It’s so strange - that seeing something that disrupts their usually fixed atmosphere be so fulfilling. It’s as if the exhaustion of the mission is lifted, all for the thought of peace with their lover’s sleeping, quiet state.

Zeus allows themselves to step closer, sitting onto the edge of the bed and reach out to brush their forehead. Brows knit, most likely from the feel of their gloves, before beautiful orbs blink open.

“Good morning, [Name],” Zeus says, monotonous and stone-faced. An issue with those who try to approach them, Zeus doesn’t excrete ‘emotional reveal’.

But [Name] flashes that smile - sleepy but joyful. Was it from having a pleasant dream? Or perhaps [Name] believe their dream is of this moment.

“Welcome home...”

Regardless, Zeus knows the yearning they felt for [Name] is mutual.

Hermes: “Fucking assholes, thinking they’re so brilliant...”

The unsettling curses flow out of Hermes as natural as a raging river, their fingers frustratingly flipping through their set of keys as they frown, only to click their tongue and flip once more in reverse.

The mission has taken a massive toll on Hermes - sure, it’s a success but it would have been three days earlier if those scientists from the governmental branch have more brain cells. They completely disregarded Hermes’s suggestion and simply went ahead with their own ideas, singling them out.

Clearly, that didn’t turn out well due to how that simply put them through a grueling demotion and put Hermes in charge of the issue. While there isn’t any other problem to be found, Hermes has grown irate at the time that’s been wasted to the point each of the scientists couldn’t even dare to make a peep of gossip.

The only pro coming out of this is the fact Hermes had earned some vacation days - specifically this weekend.

The idea of spending the weekend with [Name] provides some small mood boost; it had been the only thing that kept Hermes going with those so-called top-notch thinkers.

But when Hermes steps into their apartment and enters the bedroom, they eye the body that lies on their bed.

Pajamas adorn the frame of their beloved, with a small note of bedhead and a black, very familiar T-shirt wrinkling in their grasp as they smile obliviously in their sleep.

[Name] fits so perfectly on their bed, Hermes almost forego taking a short shower just to climb in. Curse outdoor bacteria.

Thankfully, [Name] didn’t wake up while Hermes was showering - considering how it’s massively early and Hermes has spent last night driving back home, being the night owl they are, they could sleep like the dead.

A common thing their beloved has mentioned during their brunches.

Dressed in their sleepwear, Hermes climbs into the sheets, careful not to move the shirt away from [Name], and wraps their arms around [Name] to let themselves settle into the comfort of their own bed.

“Hng...” Hermes’s ears perk at the sound that erupts after merely five minutes before they feel the body in their arm twitch, “Oh...Hermes, when did you come back?”

A sigh leaves them and they find themselves sinking into the softness, a heavy load of exhaustion upon them. Who knew the sound of their voice can make them crumble to instant relaxation? “Just now.”

A gentle touch on the head. “Tough mission?”

“Mm.” Hermes gives a noise of confirmation, relying on the stroking sensation through their hair for its warm properties. The body shifts, which leads to Hermes’s brows knitting together.

“Haha...!” A soft laugh escapes their beloved, a sound that leaves them fuzzy with delight. “Did you miss me too?”

“You took my favorite shirt.”

[Name]’s voice has a pause before concern fills it. “Am I not allowed to?”

The remembrance of [Name] cuddling with their shirt resorts to Hermes tightening their embrace. “Consider this punishment.”

A short laugh leaves [Name] again. “Seems more like a reward.”

Hermes gives out a sort of grumble and leans in without another thought, burying their head into the crook of [Name]’s neck. [Name] doesn’t speak another word, but the fingers that pet along their hair turn into a hand stroking from scalp to the back. A satisfied noise escapes with a minuscule smile.

Clearly, the one getting a reward here is Hermes.

Dionysus: “God, what a week.”

It’s one thing to go undercover as a hotel staff - it’s another to carry that role and attempt fixing most of the problems in said hotel. First had been a Frenchman and Englishman arguing over some preference of which country is better (Ironically - the Frenchman believes England is better while the Englishman believes France is better). Then, there was a lack of staff, which means more tasks to do than what most usually do.

It doesn’t help that Dionysus was in that situation because of some corrupt billionaire who couldn’t stop keeping it in his pants. Including the rare virus, he had spread to his ‘friends’.

It was just an absolute mess. Dionysus wasn’t sure how they’ll stomach seeing another messy bed.

After unlocking the door to their apartment and entering it, they lock the door behind them and head for the bathroom in their bedroom; Dionysus could go for a relaxing bubble bath. But when they step into their bedroom, they freeze with wide, shock eyes.

Lying on their bed, with a vibrant orange PJ shirt in the grasp of familiar hands, is the librarian in all their sleepy glory. Dionysus has always left their curtains open, so the sunrise’s rays are already shining into the room without making contact with the librarian’s blessed face.

Their heart melt. They smile widely and step closer to the bed. Bending down, they plant a kiss onto their beloved’s forehead, something which leads to forcing a groan out of their sleeping beauty.

Eyes blink towards Dionysus, blearily taking them in as the first thing they see - something Dionysus plans to keep doing.

A dazzling smile courses through their lips, flashing beautiful teeth. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Mnngh...” [Name] groans out, grabbing the blanket and curl out, though not turning away from Dionysus and simply rub their cheek into the shirt’s fabric. “No morning - too early...”

A humorous laugh leaves Dionysus as they bend down to leave a dozen more kisses. “Not even for some breakfast?”

A pause. An eye peeks open. “...Mngh.”

In translation: Always for food.

“Alright, I’ll make some animal pancakes.” Dionysus begins to move, but blinks from the slight tug on the end of their suit jacket. Turning back, they spy the hand that clings to it before lifting their head to face the smiling beaut. “What’s wrong?”

A wide grin appears and the librarian lifts themselves up, planting a light peck on Dionysus’s cheek. “Welcome home.”

The poor soul’s heart implodes from the cuteness overload.

Ares: “Fucking pansy shits, acting like kids with scissors...”

Ares just isn’t taking any more shit from the governmental branch. It’s bad enough they’re given weapons - now they have people wielding them, flailing about with a magnum, refusing to take better maintenance with them. If it wasn’t for the fact this was an undercover mission, Ares would have wiped their asses with armor-piercing rounds from an AK-47.

They make their way into their apartment, dumping their duffle bag onto the end of the coat hanger as they strip off their jacket, frustratingly untying their tie. It doesn’t make shit better when they had to have a long drive under the hot, fucking sun and get home just as night falls.

They couldn’t even visit that cadet of theirs on the day of their return - fucking bastards.

“I swear, I’m gonna beat the shit-” Their words stop short upon stepping into their room to eye the form occupying their bed.

The little hacker actually took over their bed.

With their shirt.

In their PJs.

Did they miss Ares that much?

“...Heh.”

A shark-like smile appears on their face and they step into the bathroom. Even after their shower, the cadet is still sleeping. Fully dressed to sleep with dried hair, Ares sighs and climbs into the bed before wrapping their cadet’s body.

“Fucking sap.” Ares mumbles, closing their eyes as a brief smile appear on their face.

???: The apartment door opens and closes without missing a beat, the figure tiredly stepping into the dark flat despite how it’s early morning.

Footsteps tread silently to the bedroom. And there, ??? makes the discovery of the figure on their bed, the brief moment of alerted panic shifting to a calm fulfillment; should have known their tweety bird misses them.

??? steps closer to the bed, reaching up to gently squeeze the bridge of the librarian’s nose. Watching their nose wrinkle, ??? nearly snort with amusement before kneeling onto the ground and fold their arms onto the edge of the bed, resting their chin on their folded arms to continue admiring the blissful sleep of their lover and how that smile - that bright, dazzling smile - make the world whole once more for ???.

(Bonus)

After a decent amount of time, ??? finally moves. They pull one of their larger drawers open and pull out a trumpet. They don’t really play instruments; it was mainly to annoy a notable friend of theirs. Licking their lips with eyes glinting with devious intent, they open their mouth...

Needless to say, ??? enjoys their method of waking their early bird.

[staranon95]

all the way down

a red hood au drabble

Gavin feels like he’s in a fog.

He hasn’t slept yet. Couldn’t fall asleep. Lindsay and Michael ended up taking him home to their place. He’d be no good on his own, and he liked staying with the Jones’. They make life comfortable.

He ends up leaving their second bedroom around four in the morning after two hours of tossing and turning. He drifts into the living room and situates himself on the armchair that looks directly out onto the street. They live in one of the older suburbs where the houses are largely one floor plus a basement.

Somewhere across the city, a masked man is sleeping off some serious injuries in Fiona’s flat. A man who has been confirmed to be Alfredo.

He remembers Alfredo. He’s never been able to forget Alfredo.

dEveryone thinks he’s moved on to an extent. It’s been five years, why wouldn’t he? He should be well adjusted, but what the others don’t know is that he would periodically visit the old crime scene shortly after Alfredo’s death. The site was cleared shortly after the fire once the investigation had closed. Then it sat empty for two years until some developer came along and built a new warehouse. Any clues left behind would be impossible to find, but still he visits that site.

He’s not in mourning, he doesn’t think. He did that shortly after Alfredo’s demise. He’d describe it as a restlessness. He’d describe it as a regret. He can’t really say what Alfredo meant to him back in the day. Alfredo was fun. He was a good kid despite only being a few years younger than Gavin. He was eager and loud and liked sending Gavin dumb videos on the internet late at night.

So then why does Gavin feel like his heart is going to cramp in his chest? There was nothing between them.

He ponders these questions and these feelings until the sun rises and his eyes feel sore and blurred. It’s around this time one of Lindsay’s cats makes an appearance. A long-haired stray that stretches out in front of Gavin before sitting neatly on the ground next to the armchair until Gavin invites her onto his lap. Lindsay is quick to follow.

“Hey, Gav,” she says, somewhere behind him in the kitchen. “Did you sleep last night?”

“Nah. Too much to think about.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. It was a strange fucking night.”

He wonders what’s going through Lindsay’s mind. She’s the one who brought him in. Did Alfredo not remember her? Maybe he didn’t recognize her. But they don’t know what state Alfredo is in. Maybe he knows them as the Fakes and not as old friends.

What if he doesn’t remember Gavin as Gav? What would Gavin do then?

“Gavin?”

He hums in response and cranes his neck around to look at Lindsay.

“I asked if you wanted some coffee.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. That sounds great.”

Michael sleeps in late that day, and Gavin feels a headache building in his temples.

“Any news from Trevor?” asks Michael once he’s had some coffee and food in him.

“Nothing yet,” Lindsay says. “We’re on standby. Fiona says Alfredo is up. She’s not talking to him, though, and he doesn’t seem like he’s going to run away.”

“Not with those injuries he’s not. Give it a few days. He’ll eat her out of house and home and then disappear into the night.”

“You think she can convince him to stay?”

Michael snorts. “Listen, I don’t doubt Fifi’s ability to play the part, but she’s not a gracious host.”

“I haven’t even been invited into her flat yet. What about you, Gav? She ever let you in?”

Gavin shakes his head. “I don’t even know her address. Can’t blame her, though. Otherwise we’ll all be crashing in at three in the morning.”

“Yeah that’s pretty true,” Lindsay says. “I would make an excuse every time just to see her. Like not even for work stuff. Just to see her.”

“She’s a private person that way,” Michael says.

“Which makes this a really big deal,” Gavin mutters. “Anyway. I think I’m gonna Uber back to my place. Take a shower. Take a nap.”

“You sure you’ll be good, boy?” Michael asks.

“I can offer you the ride,” Lindsay says.

“I am not taking you as an Uber. I just feel weird whenever I do. Let me know if anything changes.”

“Will do,” Michael says.

Gavin nearly falls asleep on the ride over to his apartment. He stumbles out of the car and walks to his ground floor apartment slowly. His apartment is quiet when he enters. There’s a dull ringing in his ears as he walks through to his bedroom. He doesn’t go for the bed. Not yet.

First, he draws down his black out curtains and turns on the bedside lamp. He pulls off his jeans and takes off his dress shirt and tosses them on the floor towards the laundry hamper. He kneels down on the ground in front of his dresser. He goes into the bottom drawer, pulling out jeans and folded pairs of pants. He installed a false bottom into his dresser when he first bought it. It holds few things. Just some secrets of his. His old birth certificate from England. A newspaper clipping of his old alter ego back before he was noticed by Geoff and Jack—the Tweety Bird Burglar. He still hasn’t figured out where that name originated, but he enjoyed it none the less. And then the one thing he hasn’t looked at in months. A sweater.

The sweater is old. Soft and worn with holes in the sleeves. It was a gag gift. Gavin went out to a custom print shop and had it made. On the back was a homemade logo—the Sauce, the affectionate name Gavin and the rest of the crew had for Alfredo. It was more or less the unofficial gift that welcomed him into the crew. After the accident, Gavin went to Alfredo’s place and took this with him before they had the place cleaned out and everything else disposed of.

He sets the sweater over his knees and rubs his hand over the faded and cracked words of the print.

Whatever’s going to happen now, Gavin doesn’t think he’ll be getting his ‘Fredo back.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #406

“turned on all the lights, the tv, and the radio  /  still, i can’t escape the ghost of you”

Have you ever had an ulcer? No. Do you have any rare medical conditions? I believe AvPD is considered to be a rare mental disorder. Do you have to carry an epi pen? No. What color is your mailbox? I think it's black. I don't pay attention. Would you ever want a job working with animals? I'd love to. The thing is, without a degree in something, my duties working with animals would almost certainly involve cleaning up after them, which I am WAY too squeamish with fecal matter and vomit to do. It's extremely embarrassing, but I've never even been able to clean up after my own pets if they ever had an accident or got sick. I obviously couldn't do it with random animals. Did you have a good high school experience? It's... so odd, retrospecting on high school. In some ways, it was the best time of my life because of my memories with my friends and especially Jason, but at the time, I absolutely loathed it and was horribly depressed. But at least I saw a future for myself. I took better care of myself, all that stuff... That Brittany would be fucking mortified to get a glimpse at who she becomes. Have you ever watched any Monty Python movies? Which one is your favourite? I know I've seen some of at least one. Would you ever get a "below the belt" piercing? Nah. If a couple is married, do you think there should be any legal punishment if one person cheats? No...? Like don't get me wrong at all, I am firmly against cheating under any circumstance, but for there to be legal retribution seems extreme. What is the greatest source of anxiety for you? My future. Are there any hallucinogenic drugs you’d like to try? Nah man. What made you choose your current job? I'm unemployed. Do you feel uncomfortable on the dance floor? Or are you confident with you dancing abilities? Oh hunny, you won't see me on the dance floor. Unless MAYBE if the Cha-Cha Slide comes on, or the Cupid Shuffle. That's as skilled as I get, haha. Is it exciting to you to imagine having an affair with a teacher? ... No??????????? It's fucking creepy. Adultery isn't exciting. Do you like your smile? No. I absolutely look high when I smile. What is something silly that you believed to be true when you were a child? That I could invoke the traits of any animal, which I just referred to as my "animal powers." Like for example, if I "called upon" a kangaroo, I could jump higher. I was a weird fucking kid. Have you ever been in a relationship with someone you completely connected with on a mental/emotional level, but did not find physically attractive in any way? Was physical intimacy a problem? How did it work out? I was never really physically attracted to Girt, but it was never a big deal to me. I cared way more about his personality and how much he cared about me. We were never really "intimate," per se, we just would give each other a simple peck. It didn't work out, but not at all because of physical things. He was just too much of a brother to me. What classic or cult movie have you never seen and have no desire to? Hm. I know there's some, but I'm blanking. Does The Human Centipede count here? Like everyone knows about it, so I would assume it does. I have ZERO desire to see a second of that repulsive movie. Have you ever taken a real liking to a band/singer you never ever....ever thought you'd enjoy? Maybe Melanie Martinez? Her voice is so cutesy, as are some of her songs, but I really enjoy how dark her lyrics can be. People who know me would probably be shocked to hear I thoroughly like her. After seeing the movie Avatar did you suddenly view our Earth as ugly and/or boring? If you have not seen the movie, do you think it’s worth your time? I've seen a little bit of it, but I never finished it because I was very tired and chose to go to sleep. I actually do want to see the full thing, though; it looks very good. How helpful are your parents to you? Would they help you to pay for your first apartment? College? Where does the line end? My parents are truly incredible with helping me the best they are capable of. They helped me pay for school, among other things, but I doubt they'd help with my first home, whenever that is. I wouldn't really want them to, either, because that's my responsibility for sure. Do you like playing video games? If so, what do you usually play? I love video games, and horror is absolutely my favorite genre. I also love fantasy games though with deep stories. I've never been the best at playing super long games, like Final Fantasy games, even if I'm seriously invested in the story, though. I burn out. Have you ever sewn a garment? No. Are there any plants in the room you’re in? No. I don't bother with plants. What’s your highest level of education? Some college. What’s the most important thing in any kind of relationship? Proper communication, probably. If you wear lipstick, what’s your favourite colour to wear? I only really put on lipstick to occasionally take a picture, and it's pretty much always black. Is your style feminine, masculine or somewhere in the middle? Somewhere in the middle, I guess? Are there a lot of dragonflies around your house? I've never seen one around this house, and I doubt I ever will because it's too urban. When we lived in the woods, however, I saw them a lot. Of all the Disney couples, which one would you say is your favorite? Kovu and Kiara came to my mind first. Do you think it is cute/funny or disgraceful when a child swears? It's shocking, more than anything. You don't expect it. I don't believe it should be encouraged, but only because children just don't know when swearing really isn't appropriate. If/when you have a baby, how do you think you would want to decorate its room? I don't want kids, but I'll entertain the question and assume this is before the child is born and develops interests. Whether it's a boy or a girl, I'd probably go with a cutesy animal theme. Would you more likely buy a shirt with a picture of Mickey/Minnie Mouse, a Winnie the Pooh character, Snoopy, Hello Kitty, or Tweety Bird on it? None, honestly. Perhaps like, a gothic Hello Kitty. Of all the states you have been to, which one did you have the best experiences? Putting aside the AWFUL heat and humidity, I probably had the best time in Florida. I loved all the palm trees, seeing so many lizards on my grandma's patio, and going to Disney World was a blast. I liked that swimming pools were always warm, too. Have you ever had a crush on someone “too young” for you? No. Do you regret losing your virginity to who you lost it to? No. I was madly in love with him, so no regrets on that. If your boyfriend ever hit you, would you dump him? HA, BYYYYEEEEEEEEE MOTHERFUCKER. ZERO hesitation. Did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize? He did, but I honestly don't know if he meant it. Is there anything you want to say to someone? It'll probably go unsaid for the rest of my life. If they were to televise a live execution, would you watch it? Yikes, hard pass. If you could be the president of the USA, would you be willing to do it? Noooo thank you. Did you wake up in the middle of the night? I always do. Does your animal sleep with you? My cat does. Venus obviously sleeps in her terrarium, but she is in my room. Last color you dyed your hair? Red. Will you keep your last name when you get married? Very unlikely. I don't like my last name. What are you looking forward to? Hearing back again from the woman whose wedding I shot literally two years ago. I thought she ghosted me, but she messaged me the other day about seeing the pictures again and going through them to actually buy some. I don't know why the hell it took her two years, but whatever, I guess? I spent two whole hours resizing the files and re-adding the preview watermark (I deleted the OneDrive folder for space forever ago, but I have the files still), so I hate to sound like an ass, but she better buy something. Between sweating my ass off on location when I shot the wedding, editing those 100+ pictures two years ago, and now re-doing the previews, I have invested so much goddamn time into them that yeah, I think I have the right to be pretty damn salty if I don't hear back from her again. If your significant other cut sex out of your relationship for any reason, what would you do? It'd be whatever. I mean sure, that sort of intimacy is a very special part of serious romantic relationships to me, but I can live without it pretty easily. What was the last thing you said out loud? "Thank you for dinner" to my mom. She brought home Hardee's. Who are your godparents? I don't believe I have any. Do you like Gushers? omggggg yes Can you touch​ your nose with your tongue?​​ No. Is there a particular sport you follow on a regular basis? Nope. Are you waiting for something to arrive in the mail? No. Think of the last film you watched. Who was your favourite character? Uhhhh what was it... The Shining, I think? I didn't really develop a favorite. Do you have a friend whose name starts with ‘L’? Describe him/her. Lisa. <3 She's one of my WoW friends. She'll talk your ear off, but I don't really mind. She is SO sweet and caring for other people and loves to cook. She recently had triplets, and seeing as she had a son only months before accidentally getting pregnant with the triplets, she's obviously been MEGA busy so we haven't talked much lately. When you’re being kissed do you like it when they hold your face? Yeah, but not too early on. Doing that has a promise of seriousness and passion in it to me, and it would probably weird me out if that happened too soon. Last thing that made you cry? My health. Would you ever consider getting a piercing in your septum? Nah. I don't think it would look good on me. Do you enjoy being outdoors? If it's cool outside and I have a place to sit when I want to, yeah. Do people tell you that you have an accent? Only sometimes. It's definitely not as bad as your average Southerner, though. Do you enjoy watching fireworks on the 4th of July? Ha, what nice timing. I think they're very pretty, but I believe I went over in a recent survey how I don't encourage their usage in consideration of veterans with PTSD as well as being conscious of animals and the absolute terror it can cause for them. What’re some unspeakable subjects for you? So my sister is a children's social worker, and she shares a LOT of stories with Mom (and me, if I'm present) that I can't listen to. The ones that involve pedophilia and/or rape, especially from the child's very own parent(s), I just cannot listen to. Period. It's so fucking repulsive and just unimaginable to me how even a monster of a human can commit something THAT goddamn vile. What’s your opinion of root beer? I'm not a big fan. I mean I can tolerate drinking some of it, but I don't really *enjoy* it. Have you ever seen The Breakfast Club, and what’s your opinion of it? I have, and I didn't get the appeal at all. Did you have a Furby when you were younger? Oh god, I did. Those things are so creepy. If you had a baby boy, what would you name him? Damien, most likely.

[lovemesomesurveys]

1. Let's say that you are reading a news article on a recent death. Would you be more saddened by the fact that it was a 3 year old that died, or a 64 year old? Why do you think that is? Or, do you think that it would be equally upsetting regardless the person's age? I think it’s sad hearing someone died regardless, but when it’s children it does hit a little harder because they’re just so young and hadn’t really had a chance at life yet, ya know? Like at 3 years old they have so much life to live and so much more to experience. You wonder who they might have grown up to be and what they would have been like.

2. What was the last medication you consumed, & for what purpose? Was it in capsule or liquid form? My pain pill about an hour ago.

3. Do you always use a period after a typed sentence? What about a written sentence? Yes to both.

4. Of all the items near to you, which one would you consider to be the sharpest? My pair of nail clippers.

5. Have you ever eaten rock candy? Yeah, I remember having it as a kid. If I recall correctly, it wasn’t that good, it was just the whole, ‘I’m eating rocks!’ thing.

6. What was the cause of your last upset stomach experience? I have IBS and stomach issues.

7. Have you ever attempted to pop a soap bubble with your tongue? Do you find soap bubbles entertaining in any way? I remember as a kid there was flavored bubbles so yeah I did attempt to those with my tongue. I wouldn’t say I find soap bubbles to be entertaining, no. Whenever I’d blow bubbles I’d be over it pretty quick.

8. Do you have a "comfort object" [something that anytime you are upset or scared it can always make you feel better]? No.

9. Has a doctor ever prescribed you a medication that you never took? Was there a reason why you never took it? There have been times I stopped taking a medication or was hesitant to start one and didn’t right away because I wasn’t sure it was necessary or I was worried about possible side effects.

10. Of all the Disney couples, which one would you say is your favorite? Gotta give it to Mickey and Minnie. 

11. Does your bathroom have an exhaust fan? Have you ever seen one that doesn't have one? Yes, ours does. I probably have seen one that didn’t.

12. Do you ever get really bad knots in your hair? Yes, my hair knots quite easily. Doesn’t help that I allow days to go by in between brushings because I just don’t have the energy or motivation to deal with it. It’s gotten pretty bad at times.

13. Are you one to get impatient when someone is slow to reply, whether it be by instant message, text, or something else altogether? If I’m needing an answer to something right away I am. Or we’re in a middle of a conversation and I’m interested in keeping it going. 

14. Have you ever thought you were the only one home & had it turn out you were mistaken? Did you do anything embarrassing during this time? Or, have you had someone walk in on you doing something embarrassing? Yeah. I think I was talking out loud to myself when I heard either one of my parents or brother say, “uh, who are you talking to?” lol. 

15. What is the word you most commonly use when talking about money [bucks, dollars, etc]? Dollars or bucks.

16. If you are fond of cheesecake, do you prefer New York style, strawberry, or chocolate better? If you aren't, what is your favorite type of pastry? New York style for sure.

17. Have you, or would you, ever buy a Squishable [http://www.squishable.com/]? I have a few, they’re super soft and squishy and adorable. I love ‘em. My favorites are my giraffe and Baby Yoda ones.

18. What do you usually eat when you are in the mood for a snack? My go-to is chips and dip.

19. Do you think it is cute / funny or disgraceful when a child swears? Ehhh. It can be funny, but at the same time I don’t want to encourage it either. Just don’t let ‘em see you laugh lol.

20. If / when you have a baby, how do you think you would want to decorate its room? I don’t want to have children.

21. Would you more likely buy a shirt with a picture of Mickey / Minnie Mouse, a Winnie the Pooh character, Snoopy, Hello Kitty, or Tweety Bird on it? I’d want Mickey/Minnie and Winnie the Pooh.

22. Of all the states you have been to, which one did you have the best experiences? Idaho was nice.

23. Do you know any males that own stuffed animals? Do you think there is anything wrong with a male owning a stuffed animal? Yes, I do. I don’t see anything wrong with that? 

24. When did you last experience flatulence? Is this something you experience often? Does it embarrass you to belch or fart around anyone? lol why you gotta throw this in. 

25. Have you / has your family ever had groceries delivered? No. We’ve done curb-side grocery pickup, though. 

[thepurplebutterflythings]

Kitty Cat & Tweety Bird (Part 14) - Jason Todd

Gif: Oliverbruce3 on Tenor

Word Count: 2.2K

Paring: Jason Todd (Titans) x (f)Reader

Summary: It’s time for a Gala and with that Y/N Wayne’s first public appearance.

Warnings: N/A

A/N: This is a little series I am doing about Jason Todd in Titans. I don’t know Comic!Jason very well so I’m taking all of this from the show, and at the moment he hasn’t been in very often, so please forgive any mischaracterisations.

Tagging: @bella-0104-123 @ninergirl1d @httpfandxms @rosybrock @attackonnat @reclusive-chicken-nugget   @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @young-psychos @thesleepykaijuu @thescottpack @nightlygiggles @rougestorms @sinon36​ @acvrosstheuniverse @friedchickening​ @chillybabe

_______________________________________________________________

Y/N nibbled on her lip as Harley and Ivy ushered Jason out of the house. He was to get ready at Dick’s hotel room. There was no chance that he would be allowed to see Y/N in her dress before the Gala. Lord knows what her mother and Harley and Ivy would be like when Y/N and Jason decided to tie the knot. She could only imagine. Bruce was already in his suit and made to wait in the living room as Selina, Harley and Ivy helped Y/N into her dress, did her makeup and hair, and put her jewellery on. Harley and Ivy had already left the Manor to arrive at the Gala, leaving Y/N with Selina and Bruce.

With shaking fingers, Y/N put the pearl earrings that Jason bought her in and then smoothed the non-existent creases from her dress.

“You look stunning,” Selina said as she squeezed her daughter’s shoulders, “absolutely breath-taking.”

Selina herself wore a sleek fitted dress made of black satin with a gold chain back with simple, elegant gold jewellery. Her hair was loose and framing her face. Selina Kyle had a nearly twenty-year-old daughter and still looked as though she hadn’t aged a day since her daughter was conceived on that rooftop. Y/N and Selina could have been and had been, mistaken for sisters.

“Mum,” Y/N blushed, turning around and hugging her mother.

“Careful,” Selina chuckled, “don’t want to ruin your beautiful gown now, do we?”

“You look… just, wow!” Y/N said to her mother. Selina smiled modestly as she slide her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you, kitten,” Selina pressed a kiss on her daughter’s forehead then wiped the lipstick stain from her skin, “now, come on, let’s go and see your father.”

Selina took Y/N’s hand they led her slowly down the stairs to make sure that neither of them tripped and fell. As they reached the final steps, Bruce stood there waiting. He held his hand out to help Selina and then his daughter.

“Stunning,” Bruce told them, “the pair of you.”

“Bruce, you sweet talker, you!” Selina chuckled, fondly patting his cheek.

________________________________________________________________

As the car which Y/N and her parents were in pulled up, she looked out of the window to see Jason and Dick waiting at the entrance. The press weren’t outside, like one might expect, but were waiting inside patiently, waiting to see what they had been rounded up into the Gotham Ballroom for. Jason smiled as he recognised the car, pulling up. He quickly came down the steps and opened the door the moment the car stopped.

Jason gasped as Y/N took his hand to help her step out. They stepped to the side as Bruce and Selina stepped out. Jason looked at Y/N’s dress; a black dress with red lace patterned elegantly over it and a v neck with long sleeves. The lace was printed heavily on the upper half, very little black fabric showing, including on the sleeves, while scattered elegantly over the lower half. The lower half was netted, showing her legs from the lower thigh down, her upper thigh hidden by the underskirt of a body-con sewn into her dress. The edge of her net skirt was decorated with the red lace as well. The red lace, Y/N’s favourite part of the dress, was floral; leaves, roses, other unidentified flowers with her Aunty Ivy could recite from memory, but Y/N didn’t know. It was a beautiful gown fitted to her body like a glove.

“Whoa, Kitty Cat,” said Jason, “just… wow, you look… wow!”

“Worth the wait?” Y/N chuckled teasingly as she remembered how he scolded after Ivy and Harley shushed him out of the house.

“Definitely,” he nodded.

“Look at you two,” Selina cooed, “all match-y and cute.”

Jason looked as though he should have been walking the red carpet for the MET Gala, stylishly looking to the left and right with one of those relaxed cool celebrities with those expensive real leather shoes, black and polished so well that they reflected the flashes of the cameras back to them as he effortlessly look good in every photograph taken of him. His suit was custom made to match Y/N’s dress. He wore a black satin suit with a floral pattern illustrated on the jacket and trousers. There was a plain black satin waistcoat underneath the jacket with a plain black button-up shirt. His black satin tie was printed with a red wildflower design and the handkerchief in the jacket pocket was also a black satin with a red embroidered edge. His outfit was, like Y/N, was fitted perfectly for him.

“Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy have good taste in fashion,” Jason chuckled as he kissed Y/N’s temple, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Damn right they do,” Y/N grinned, “they’re style icons!”

“Come on,” Dick chuckled as he stood watching them all, “the press is waiting inside.”

“Are you ready?” Bruce asked Y/N, who took a deep breath, smiled and nodded, holding onto Jason’s hand.

“Ready.”

________________________________________________________________

The moment they walked into the ballroom; all eyes were on them. Y/N and Jason, arm in arm, and Bruce Wayne with Selina Kyle. Dick Grayson was going stag and everyone watched the group curiously.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Bruce called out with a chuckle, “apologies for our late appearance, but who doesn’t like to make an entrance?”

The stuck-up people all chuckled lowly in a charming fashion with a playful shake of the head before returning to the conversations they were previously having. Y/N exhaled and looked to her father, who gave her a sympathetic smile, a smile which told Y/N ‘sorry but these events never get easier’. Y/N smiled back in understanding with a nod.

“Let’s get a drink,” Dick said to them all.

“Yes, please,” Y/N nodded exasperatedly as she and Jason started following Dick.

“We’ll be doing rounds,” Selina and Bruce said as they walked a separate direction to begin talking with the guests.

“You alright?” Jason asked Y/N, noticing her paled expression.

“God, this is overwhelming!”

“Hey, you’re doing great,” Jason said, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her forehead. “Everything will be fine.”

“Yeah,” Dick nodded, “these things don’t come up often, but you just need to learn how to handle them.”

“How’d you handle them?” Y/N asked as she shakily took a champagne flute off of a passing tray.

“Personally? I hung in the kitchens and ate,” Dick shrugged.

“I don’t think I’m going to have that luxury when people find out who I am,” she said as she faked a smile as the strangers eyed her curiously.

“Well, you’ll have me here to help,” Jason smiled.

“Thank god!” Y/N chuckled as she leaned into him as his arm draped itself around her shoulder. “These will be a lot more bearable with you.”

“Gawd, ya’ll are sickening,” Harley drawled as she suddenly appeared with Ivy. Harley was wearing a golden floor-length gown with a slit in the skirt. It was backless with a halter neckline and a bow on the lower back. Ivy wore a caped chiffon gown of a soft grass green that flowed with every step she took. Harley wrapped an arm around her spouse’s waist, pressing a big red kiss on Ivy’s cheek, causing Ivy to playfully scowl as she pulled a napkin off a table and dab it away so not to ruin her makeup.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?” Y/N teased as Harley rolled her eyes.

“How’s the elite of Gotham handling Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy making an appearance at a Wayne Gala?” Dick asked them.

“Well, I’d like to point out that the moment the staff saw me.” Ivy said, “They took out the floral centrepieces your father chose.”

“That’s not fair,” Y/N scowled, “let me talk to dad.”

“No, no,” Ivy shook her head, “if it makes them feel safe, let them have it. I don’t need plants to kill people if I wanted.”

“She’s incredible with a gun,” Harley bragged, “it’s so hot.”

“Kickass girlfriends are hot!” Jason lifted his glass slightly. Harley laughed and nodded, as did Ivy.

“I’ll drink to that,” Harley said as she clinked her glass with Jason’s own glass.

“So, sprout,” Ivy cooed, stroking Y/N’s hair fondly, “how are you finding your first Gala?”

“A bit uncomfortable at the moment,” she confessed in a whisper, “I feel everyone staring at me…”

“Hun, not to call you vain or anything, but I think it’s Ives and me they’re gawking at,” Harley gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Well, I think when the board of Wayne Enterprises realise I’m stealing the CEO position from them, I’ll be the one getting the stares…”

“Hey, you are a hard worker, determined and have a head for business,” Ivy assured her.

“Yeah,” Dick nodded, “you’d end up CEO even if you weren’t a Wayne.”

“Thanks,” Y/N smiled as she let out a shaky breath, “nice to know not everyone in this room is going to try and kill me.”

“You could take all these suits down with one hand tied behind your back,” Jason assured Y/N, rubbing her shoulder and chuckling. “Don’t worry.”

“Can’t help but feel nervous,” Y/N confessed.

“I get it,” Dick said, “trust me, I do. I’ve dealt with all these people had to be introduced – the only difference is I weren’t a threat to the CEO position, so I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”

“Emotional hell!” Y/N sighed, “God, I’m practically shaking right now. I kinda wanna run out of here right now.”

“Whatever you need,” Jason placed his hands on her shoulders after brushing her hair from her eyes, “I’ll do. I’ll be there for you through all of this. Promise.” He travelled his hands down her arms to her hands, taking them in his own, rubbing his thumbs on the back of her hands. “Breathe, in and out, in and out.”

Y/N nodded as she followed his voice, breathing in and then out and then in and then out. Repeating it a few times, Y/N felt herself slowly starting to calm out. Looking into his eyes, Y/N smiled.

“Thank you, Jason,” she said, leaning in and kissing his cheek, right next to his lips. “What would I do without you?”

“Gawd, you make the notebook look bleak,” Harley rolled her eyes.

“Kitten,” Selina said as she and Bruce approached their daughter, “are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she smiled, holding Jason’s hand, silently asking if Jason could come with her. Bruce and Selina smiled and nodded as Y/N turned to Jason, who kissed the back of her hand. “Let’s go.”

________________________________________________________________

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Bruce said into the microphone on the stage. Selina, Y/N and Jason stood at the back of the stage watching as Jason held Y/N’s hand, “thank you all for coming out tonight. Now, I know that everyone except a select few know the reason behind this Gala, and so the rest of you are left wondering why you are here. Rightly so of course – Bruce Wayne is not the type of man to throw a party for the sake of it… well, anymore at least, I’m not in my twenties any longer.” The audience began laughing at Bruce’s joke in a low collective fashion to appease the Billionaire. “Now, as I said, I’m not a young man anymore, not like Mr Todd, or even Mr Grayson, who has been kind enough to come from Detroit for this evening, which I cannot thank him enough for this support. As of late, I have found myself wondering what is to happen to Wayne Enterprises when my time is up. Hopefully, I have a long, long life ahead of me, I plan to stick around for a long time at least – no need to take me off your Christmas card list yet, ladies and gentleman. But all joking aside, this past couple of months have been sobering for me, and I have come to learn so much about myself, and of those, I love and care about. The love of my life, Selina Kyle,” Bruce looked at Selina and smiled at her. Selina smiled and waved at Bruce. Certain members of the crowd seemed to be familiar with who she was, remembering her from Bruce’s youth, and aww’d at them, “and… my, well, mine and Selina’s incredible daughter, Y/N Wayne,” the audience started making a low murmuring noise, wondering if they had heard correctly – daughter? Did Bruce Wayne say daughter? Bruce Wayne has a daughter? A daughter with Selina Kyle?

Bruce nodded for Y/N to come to the front with Selina, gesturing to her to speak into the microphone. Jason squeezed Y/N’s hand in support before letting go and stepping back as Y/N walked with her mother to the front of the stage. Y/N smiled at her father before leaning into the microphone.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen,” Y/N said, “I am Y/N Wayne, daughter of Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle.”

“Now,” Bruce said as he spoke into the microphone again, “I am sure you all have questions, but before you ask those, I want to make an announcement about the future of Wayne Enterprises – when my time to step down as CEO arrives, the role shall be filled, rather well I would say, by Y/N Wayne.”

The crowd up-roared.

[halfgclden]

THE BIRDS AND THE (ZOM)BEES | ELI&JORDAN

tw: animal death

Eli scuffed his shoe against the ground and wiped at the tears threatening to spill over one eyelid. He streaked dirt across his face as he did, and breathed in slowly. As someone was suddenly in the space next to him, he gave a start, blinked quickly, and glanced up at the person who was now there. Great. He was sitting on a large rock in the middle of the woods, almost crying, looking like a loser, and now Jordan was standing in front of him, looking confused and almost annoyed that Eli was there with him. As if he had some sort of ownership over this part of the forest, and as if Eli wasn’t there first.

Jordan squinted down at the boy at his feet, staring up at him with a pouty expression. Typical that he would end up at the same camp as Jordan. With his blond mop of hair and long eyelashes, and a sunshine demeanour that only came off as grumpy, even when he was truly angry, he looked more like the statue of a young Greek boy than Jordan ever would. He looked almost akin to a nymph, one whom a butterfly would land on in a painting and turn into a flower in a myth. Jordan shook his head at him. “You lost, boy scout?”

A wave of anger rolled through Eli, and his expression grew hard as he looked up at Jordan, willing his lip to stop wobbling as he frowned at him. “No.” He pitched his voice down, speaking the word in Gene’s voice, apparently surprising enough to make Jordan flinch. “Why don’t you get lost?” This was spoken in Eli’s own voice, much less sure of himself, much more wobbly. He ducked his head, turning his face away from Jordan as he wiped a traitor tear on the shoulder of his shirt and looked down at his cupped hands.

“Oh, sick burn, boy scout, didn’t think you had it in… what the fuck?” 

Eli pulled his hands back from Jordan, trying to hide the fact that he was holding something, but moved carefully, so that the something wasn’t jostled around. He gave another start as Jordan was suddenly behind him, and he finally couldn’t hide the fact that he was holding a sparrow, one wing at an awkward angle, breathing shallowly as it looked up at Eli, not yet accepting its fate.

“Fuck, dude, that’s sick.” Jordan made a face. “You wetting your bed? Setting any fires lately?"

“Shut up,” Eli managed to choke out as he looked at the little bird, lifting one hand so that he could stroke its head with one finger softly. “It’s dying.”

“I can help,” The words were spilling out of Jordan before he could process them, and he cursed himself as Eli looked up at him with hope. “Ugh.” He looked away. “Maybe. But we have to wait.”

“We don’t have much time,” Eli, for once, was speaking quietly and seriously. “It’ll die if we wait.”

“That’s what we’re waiting for.”

There were many strange mannerisms that Jordan had that confused Eli, and he couldn’t tell if he was making fun of him or not. “What are you talking about?”

“Just.” Jordan groaned. “Just fucking stay here, alright?” And he was gone, leaving Eli still upset in the middle of the woods, holding a sparrow that came to him for help and was slowly dying in his hands. He didn’t feel the need to hold his tears back once Jordan was gone, and he wept quietly as the bird twitched, fluttered, and took its final breath. 

So consumed by his grief, he didn’t even notice Jordan was back until there was a dog trying to climb up onto the rock he was sitting on. He screamed and scrambled back. “What’d you bring that for?” Eli cradled the bird’s body in one hand and wiped tears off of his face with the back of the other. “Are you trying to give it a snack?”

“Jesus Christ,” Jordan muttered, shaking his head. He had a basket in one hand, and was holding a leash in the other. “He’s gonna show us where to go.”

“Where to…” Eli watched as the other boy unclipped the leash and spoke quietly to his dog. He dug around in his basket before finding a bell and attaching it to the dog’s harness, then looked back up at Eli, eyebrows raised. “Where are we going?”

“Look, do you want to see your little bird friend again or not? Come with me and bring the bird.”

Eli scooted closer to the edge of the rock. “Are you bringing it back to life?”

“Dude, you ask a lot of questions.”

“Because you don’t give me any answers!” Eli frowned, the grief from before turning to anger.

“Ugh, fair enough.” Jordan turned to him. “Yeah, we’re gonna try to bring it back to life. Hecate’s the goddess of magic and paths and shit but we have to be expedient. I dunno how long that bird’s gonna be in limbo, and it’s almost dusk now, which is a transitory period and yada yada yada. I could go on and bore you, or I could do some magic on Tweety.”

The dog sniffed the air before walking off, and Jordan turned to follow it, which left Eli to make a quick decision. He hopped down from the rock and jogged to keep up with the other boy, who was rifling through his basket. “Where are we—“

“Sh,” Jordan said sharply, then looked to his dog again. “Crinitus, poof.”

The dog was there, and then it wasn’t, and then there was howling in the distance. “Can you please tell me—“ Eli was cut off by the feeling of Jordan taking his hand and then the feeling of falling, though he was on steady ground. The dog was there again. Or… He looked around. He wasn’t in the same place that he was, and now he felt dizzy and disoriented. “What did you…?”

“Oh, fuck, yeah, teleporting. Just, try not to yak, alright? Breathe and watch the horizon or whatever.” Jordan continued to follow his dog, and Eli after him, until they reached a fork in the road that split off into three paths. “Damn, fucking appropriate, huh? Nobody loves this shit more than Robert Frost and my mother.”

Eli didn’t understand Jordan’s humour at the best of times, and this certainly wasn’t that. He was dazed, staring down at the three paths, and holding a dead bird in one cupped palm as the sun was beginning to set. “Can you please tell me what we’re doing?”

Jordan was taking everything out of his basket and setting it all down on the ground, and didn’t look up from his task as he spoke. “Alright, I’m gonna do some weird magic shit and bring your bird back to life, and you’re gonna help me. Or…” He moved to squat and looked up at Eli before looking back at his materials. “I’m gonna try. And you’ve gotta just do what I say, alright? No, this isn’t a joke or me making fun of you,” Jordan added when Eli opened his mouth, causing him to close it again.

“Okay? Um, what do I have to do?”

“Alright, me and you are going to draw a big circle in the ground here, and then you’re gonna put the bird in the middle. And then I’ll do my thing, and I might ask you to help or do something, cool?”

“Um.” Eli didn’t think any of this was cool, but he nodded. “Okay.”

And they began. Jordan picked up a stick to start tracing a large circle into the dirt, and Eli did the same, then set down the bird, as asked. “Crinitus,” Eli held his breath as Jordan addressed his dog, who seemed to be watching something out in the distance. “Septentrio.” The dog moved and sat, keeping guard in a different direction. 

“Alright, that’s north.” Jordan picked up a plastic water bottle and poured some onto his hands. “This is salt water. Wash your hands with it while I cast this circle.”

Eli did as he was told and watched as Jordan stood next to the bird, facing the north. “Fodere.” As he spoke, the dog began to dig. “I invite the element of earth to join this circle.” He turned, careful not to step on the bird. “Arrêtez.” The dog stopped digging and sat still as Jordan crouched, poured water out of a bottle into a bowl, and set it on the side of the circle. “I invite the element of water to join this circle.” He turned again and picked up a torch, then held it out to Eli. “Stand there and hold this.” Jordan pointed and Eli followed, watching as he lit the torch and repeated his phrase, using fire this time. He turned once more, took out two sticks of incense, and dipped them into Eli’s flame as he invoked the element of air, letting the smoke curl for a moment before he set the sticks down, then crouched before the bird, looking up. “As above.” He looked back down at the sparrow and touched the ground next to it. “So below. This circle is cast.”

The air grew eerily still. Eli hadn’t realized that there was a small breeze until it wasn’t there anymore, and all Eli could hear was his own breathing as he watched Jordan continue to work on the ground. He drew a line on one side of the bird with his finger. “I invoke Hekate Chthonia. The earth on which we walk.” He drew another line connected with the first. “And Hekate Hegemonen, who guides us on our path.” He drew a third line. “Hekate Empylios, gate keeper, guarding the entrances of the worlds.” He drew a last line, forming a square around the bird. “Hekate Pammetor. The creator of all. You who comes in darkness, you who shows us the way.” Jordan tilted his head back and pulled out a key. “Death now touches a creation, and we beg of you to return it to the path. Oh gate keeper.” Crinitus was salivating, dripping pools of black onto the ground as his eyes grew darker. “Let us open the door and return it to the land of the living.” Jordan stuck his key into the ground and turned it, and nothing happened.

Then, the lines that Jordan had drawn turned purple, glowing faintly, and Eli took a step back. Jordan turned to him quickly, eyes frantic now. “What’s its name? Quick.”

“Stout Beak.” The words felt like they left Eli without him even speaking them, and the purple light grew brighter.

“Harken these words, hear my cry, I call to you spirit from the other side.” The bird twitched on the ground, and Eli’s stomach lurched. “I call to you, Stout Beak. Ab intra, ab extra, ab mortem.” The glowing grew so bright Eli had to look away, noticing for the first time that the flame he was holding had also turned purple. There was a great feeling of dread somewhere deep in him, and he took another step back before the flame returned to its normal colour, and Jordan rose slowly to his feet, stepping on the incense. “I release the element of air from this circle,” he sounded somewhat weary as he spoke this time, then turned to Eli so he could put out the flame, let Crinitus drink the water, and scooped the dirt back into the ground. As he released the circle, the breeze returned, and Eli felt comfortable enough to drop back down onto the ground, checking to see how the sparrow was doing.

“Its wing is still broken.” Eli scooped up the bird again and stuck out his lower lip at Jordan, who took a heavy seat on the ground before he started to gather everything up. 

“I’m not a healer. Bring it to the Apollo cabin for that.” He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm before looking back at the bird in Eli’s hands. “Is it better than before?”

“Um, it seems calmer? I think its breathing is better?”

“Hm, but broken wing.” Jordan frowned, pulled out a leather-bound notebook, and wrote a few things down. He called his dog back to him and scratched his head. “Alright, yeah, just take it to the Apollo cabin, I guess. And, uh, maybe keep an eye on it? Lemme know if it survives a few days?”

“I’m not gonna… keep it. It’s a wild bird.” 

“Alright, whatever.” Jordan sighed and shook his head. “And can you not mention this to anyone? Like, not even Dev. It’s weird shit here, I don’t want it getting out.”

Eli made a face. Now that he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, he wanted to more. If Jordan didn’t want people knowing about it, he probably shouldn’t be showing off the fact that he could do it. Nevertheless, he nodded, not sure if he was going to be able to keep his promise for long, but willing to give it a try. “Um, can you get us back now?” He looked around. “It’s getting dark out.”

“Dude, I just brought something back from the dead. I don’t really have the energy to be your fucking Uber.” Jordan stood slowly and looked around, starting back in the direction they’d come from. “We’re getting our ten thousand in today, unless you have some shit you’re like to pull out now, Snow White.” 

Eli shook his head and sighed, moving the bird to sit on his shoulder, where it perched, now whistling a tune. He moved to follow after Jordan and his dog, whistling along with the bird, their song a less sinister way of welcoming the night that was growing around them on their walk back to camp.

[thedepressedweasel]

It’s not normal that the moment I was born, my egg donor literally decided that I was her doll. After all, when she selfishly got pregnant with me and some family friend was like “Will it be another boy?”, she immediately replied with “Well, I already have a boy! I don’t need another boy! I want someone whom I can identify with, who will be just like me, who will be my carbon copy and who will be my mini-me! And I’m going to dress her up everyday while my son can hang out with my husband! And guess who else will dress her up and even join me? My mom, too! And my aunts and cousins can join too, even though they live in Israel and my mom and I live in America instead! After all, I always wanted a doll!”

There’s one of the memories of me going to S.T.A.R.S. School that I will never forget; she would every now and then dress me up in very short skirts or those cute little dresses. I always hated it because a bunch of boys back in that school would have their hands up my skirt everytime. Despite Barbara advising me to at least wear something underneath next time, my egg donor would never ever let me wear shorts underneath because it was “unladylike”. She would never listen to me when she picked me up from S.T.A.R.S. and I tried to tell her about what I had to go through; in fact, she just laughed in my face.

Even when I eventually went to Golden View Elementary School, she still kept forcing me to dress up nicely, mostly when we would go out as a family, and literally threatened to beat me up and break my will whenever I naturally resisted. I remember that when I was in fifth grade and we were set to graduate from the D.A.R.E. program (run and taught by Mr. Piersol who whatever his name was BTW), I would’ve loved to wear a white flowy long skirt, a simple T-shirt and a pair of strappy sandals combined, but my egg donor decided that it wasn’t “ladylike” enough and that “only older women would wear long skirts”, so she forced me to wear an extremely itchy black Michael Stewart sweater with a teal collar and matching cuffs, respectively, in addition of a short black skirt and matching vest, tights and boots, respectively…and even threatened to beat me up and break my will when I refused. Also, when I was in fifth grade, I was in the beginner’s band and was playing a trombone; when my band teacher at the time announced the date of our recital (plus dress rehearsal), in addition of a white button-down shirt, I wanted to wear a long black skirt, but my egg donor said “no” and bought me a short black skirt instead with a matching velour trim and flouncy hem, respectively, much to my horror. You see, she really hated long skirts because she thought that they weren’t “sexy” enough, that only older women would wear them and that young girls could only wear short skirts (I’m nonbinary and genderfluid BTW). It took me a very long time to realize that short skirts were among her ways of sexualizing me.

Also, she tried to ban me from watching those “yucky” cartoons that she knew damn well that other kids would watch as well (since she thought they were “unladylike”) and would also try to force me to only watch “grown-up” shows (with lots of guns, lots of violence, lots of cussing, lots of drugs/alcohol and so much sex scenes). Also, one time, she walked in me watching said cartoons and yelled at me to stop watching them and that because of them, I wasn’t acting ladylike like I “was supposed to”. Well, Karen, I’m sorry that you didn’t like the cartoons that you knew damn well that I wasn’t the only kid who grew up watching, but forcing me to act more mature and therefore, act more like a lady at a very young age is fucking ridiculous! Why wouldn’t you just let me a kid for a while instead before you decide whether or not you would make me act ladylike?

Oh, and this continued when I eventually went to middle school. While I was there, she would force more “pretty” clothes on me against my will. When I refused to wear them, she was like “You have to wear nice, fashionable, beautiful, clean clothes! Because if a school shooter comes and shoots you while you’re looking like this instead, then a doctor won’t want to touch you!” Also, she would also forcibly dress me up in those ugly Sonia Rykiel-style velour tracksuits as well as those equally horrible, tight, itchy, hot, uncomfortable turtlenecks (in addition to those European-style sneakers). I hated all of those dreadful clothes so much that I even told her that I hated them, that they always made me miserable and that the other kids would make fun of me for wearing them and yet her answer is always the same: “Well, I like seeing you in them!”

Oh, and as soon as I finished my 7th-grade year, my egg donor decided that it was time to wax my legs. I kept saying “no” and that I was too young for it, but she wouldn’t listen; instead, she shoved me onto the Tweety Bird-print sheet (some of which she had torn off BTW) and then told me that she was going to wax my legs against my will. Then when the torture began, she put some piping hot wax (which burned my skin) and then firmly put one of the strips that she tore off from said sheet prior to rubbing it too hard; then when she tore it off, I immediately screamed and cried in pain because it was very painful, but when I begged her to please stop, she just laughed at me and said that my legs needed to be completely hairless in order for her to stop, this torture continued until my legs didn’t have anymore hair left.

Then one day, when we were in San Francisco, my grandma took us to this Asian lady named Tracy (who happened to specialize in European and Brazilian waxing combined), after which my egg donor told her that since my uncle was set to get married the following month (or something), I should have my legs and bikini line waxed to “perfection”, so I got strapped onto the waxing table and that was when Tracy started waxing me. The pain was so bad that I had to beg Tracy to please stop, after which my egg donor just laughed madly at my discomfort and then told Tracy to keep going. My legs and bikini line were so sore that the pain lasted for a few days. I still remember that torture like it was yesterday.

Then when I was in high school, that was the last time that she waxed my legs. When she said that she would wax my legs again, I screamed and said “no”, after which she knocked me down and tortured me by waxing me against my will for the last time.

Then one day, when my legs became hairy again, I finally told her that I wouldn’t do it anymore, after which she immediately started crying while saying “All I ever wanted was a nice, sweet girl whom I could dress up!” From that point on, she sent me to school in even more fucked up clothes, as if to punish me.

Until I was 16, I was never allowed to shop at Hot Topic, ever, because she decided that it was not “ladylike”, that it wasn’t “fashionable” and that “only demon worshipers and other bad people” would ever shop there. Then as soon as I turned 16, I started shopping at Hot Topic a lot and that was when I started choosing my own clothes, to which my egg donor replied with “I didn’t raise you to be a f**! I don’t want this!”

Also, one day, when I was 15, it took her a few more months to finally agree to let me shave my legs instead and even though shaving was kinda painful too, I’ll just say that it’s at least better than waxing.

Calling all moms (new and old), please don’t do this to your kids! Instead, teach them that they’re actually so much more than how they look, that beauty standards don’t matter and that they should start hitting the books instead! Please don’t be like my egg donor ffs!

[missingandunsolvedarchive]

Shelby’s Sweetheart: The Disappearance of Asha Degree

**Edited March 14, 2020

In the year 2000, the world breathed a collective sigh of relief upon our survival of Y2K. N*Sync had released their iconic single, "Bye, Bye, Bye", setting the tone for the new millennium of pop. AOL merged with Time Warner and forever implanted the memory of a dial up tone in everyone's heads. It was a year of change--a new decade, a new century, and a new millennium. It was also the year when 9-year-old Asha Degree left her Shelby, North Carolina residence, never to be seen again.

 Asha Degree was described as a shy child. She was part of a tight knit family that valued God and hard work. The Degree children were raised to be self-sufficient--instead of being two trouble making latchkey kids, they let themselves into the apartment after school and were finished with their homework by the time their parents were home. After all, being the star player of her basketball team, she needed to keep her grades up.

 Though Asha was young, she had promise. With a supportive family, good academics, and being a superstar in sports, no one could have foreseen that she would leave and never return.

 The night Asha disappeared; an intense storm was upon Shelby. The southern heat was gone for the winter and the rain lent to the chill of the night. A car accident happened near the Degree home, knocking out the neighborhood's power. This changed the routine--Asha and her brother O'Bryant would have had a bath before bed. Iquilla, her mother, would just have to wake them up an hour earlier than usual, but instead it would only be O'Bryant that morning. Howard, her father, claimed that he checked on the children at 2:30 am, both were in the room asleep. But remember--there was a power outage. That power outage makes this case harder to track. The times differ with every iteration of the story.

 O'Bryant was a light sleeper and heard Asha shuffle twice in the night. Once was to go to the bathroom and the other, he assumed she was changing positions in bed. But by morning, she was gone. Howard's information leads us to believe that she left after 2:30 am and O'Bryant lets us know that they were put to bed for a bit before she left as he was able to sleep.

 That morning, Iquilla frantically searched for Asha. She asked her sister if Asha was nearby at her house. She asked neighbors what they saw. Not Asha. Had someone taken her? The apartment had suggested no. No signs that anyone had forced their way in to snatch a little girl. To confirm? She had packed a bag. Iquilla took inventory and noted some of her clothes were missing, and most of all, a Tweety bird purse. She left on her own.

 It had been known she was afraid of dogs. Her shy and cautious nature coupled with that made it hard to believe she would leave on her own, into the turbulent storm of a pitch-black night.

 When the news hit that a little girl went missing, locals took notice. Someone had seen something, and it was odd to say the least. Early morning February 14, 2000, a little girl dressed in only a white long sleeve shirt and white pants was seen walking along Highway 18. It caused curiosity, someone came back around to check on her, but Asha had become frightened and took off into the woods. This event was the last confirmed sighting of her. But her movements could still be tracked.

 Candy wrappers and one of her favorite bows were found in a shed. Perhaps she'd taken shelter during the storm. Another interesting find? A photo of a girl on the floor of the shed who remains unidentified to this day. Why did Asha have this photo? Did she and this girl decide to meet up? Who is she and is she alive to this day? The shed is where the story lapsed. Asha was gone.

 In August of 2001, 26 miles away, a case that was fading would be back in the media. Terry Fleming, a contractor in Morganton was working a construction site. He broke ground and made an odd discovery. It was a trash bag. Something was in it. A second trash bag, but there was something in that bag. The backpack, belonging to Asha Degree.

 It seemed the case couldn't get any stranger. Why was Asha's bag 26 miles away from where she was last seen? And more importantly, who had buried it with such an obvious intention to preserve it? The case went stale once again and has remained that way. In 2018, law enforcement finally released some small details in hopes of reinvigorating the case and having someone with information come forward. A book titled "McElligot's Pool" from Fallston Elementary Library and a New Kids on the Block t-shirt were deemed vital in cracking this case. Anyone with a connection to these items is urged to contact the Cleveland County Sheriff's office.

 My take? This case is confusing. It feels wrong in every way. It's never good when a child goes missing, but there's no possible suspects. By all accounts, it looks like Asha left of her own volition. It's the backpack that leads me to believe in something more sinister. For it to be 26 miles away from where she was last seen, it had to have ended up there by some other means of transport. Despite Asha being an athlete, it is impossible that she could have travelled that far on foot in the conditions of that night. The burial? Oddly meticulous. Someone wanted to protect this--possibly to unearth again--so they wrapped it in 2 trash bags. My mind travels to trophy behavior.

 Trophy behavior is exhibited by killers that want to relive their crimes. They keep something from the victim, a body part or one of their belongings, and they relish in what they've done and that they're the only one that knows about it. Asha's case is still that of a missing person. Her body has never been found and in fact, not everyone believes it's a body we're looking for. The Charley Project classifies Asha as "endangered missing". This is a term usually reserved for people who are presumed to have met with foul play or have conditions that require medical attention. Other outlets report that law enforcement is operating on the idea that Asha is alive.

 As for the 26 miles away? We may have an answer for that, but it's incomplete. In May 2016, police revealed they were looking for an early 1970's Lincoln Mark IV or Thunderbird after obtaining information that a girl fitting Asha's description had been seen getting into one around the time of her disappearance. We can't know if it was Asha that had been seen getting into the vehicle. Someone had tried to approach her which led to her fleeing into the woods. If in fact it was her, who was driving the car? How did they get the shy Asha to let her guard down and get in? Did they bury the backpack?

 No suspects have officially been named and while some names took residence on the suspect list, they no longer live there. Donald Preston Ferguson was convicted for the rape and murder of 7-year-old Shalonda Poole in Greensboro, North Carolina. Shalonda's case bore similarities to Asha's which caused police to focus on him for her disappearance. He was involved in search efforts for Shalonda, exhibiting similar behavior to a person that collects a trophy. He liked seeing the pain and chaos he caused. While he was ultimately discredited, I think police could be on the right track. While it was unlikely that Asha met a predator on the internet as her family didn't own a computer--she still could have been groomed by someone in the close circle of the Degrees.

 Harold and Iquilla have been cleared as suspects and fight for their daughter to this day. But maybe someone they know doesn't share the same intention. The shy and cautious Asha packed a bag to leave. How did she get a photo of an unknown girl? This says that Asha could have been in contact with someone that encouraged her to make her escape that fateful night, perhaps another child also groomed by an adult? As mentioned with Donald Ferguson, it's not unusual for a killer to aid in search parties or involve themselves in the case. A neighbor of the Degrees keeps Asha's memory alive with a small "shrine" dedicated to her in his front yard. He claims Asha was like the neighborhood's baby and it's like he lost someone too. It's easy to see this as a concerned neighbor, but the level of concern can strike people a certain way. Is there something behind his concern? So far, law enforcement has deemed no. All the public knows is that Asha is gone. We don't know who took her, or if she was even taken.

On February 14, 2020, her parents will have another anniversary of their marriage, and 20 years without their daughter. The case of Asha Degree is still open.

[ekat09]

Borderlands 3 OCs

AL1-C1A, “Metal on the outside...Metal on the inside. She’s a robot.”

Look-

Robot made of different colored metals, mostly silver, blue, and black, has her wires and components exposed under her clothes on her back and chest. Made of scrap metal. Eye is made of a traffic light and can turn red, green, or yellow according to emotion or circumstance. Wears a sleeveless hoodie with the hood up, ripped black skinny jeans, and silver combat boots. The hoodie has large pockets to hold her birds and treats for her animals. The ends of her fingers are sharpened like claws.

Abilities-

Tweety Birds: Throws her three pet Rakks at the enemy. One has ice damage, one has fire damage, and one has electric damage.

Kitten: Giant cat like creature fights by her side. Mouth opens too wide and it has two rows of sharp teeth. It has a fluffy fur though. Very long claws that it can retract and parts of its body feel hard under the fur like armor.

Whistle: Loud whistle that only animals can hear. Can cause any nearby animal enemies to become friendly temporarily and attack any humans. Will not work on giant vault monster. Believe me, she’s tried.

Likes: Animals, Killing psycos, Human anatomy, Blood, Taking bounties, Earning bounties, Sleep mode, Stories, Art.

Dislikes: Being underestimated, Being broken, Lilith, Hermit crabs, Being ordered around, Staying powered on for too long.

History: Made to be a security guard for a group of bandits on Pandora, AL1-C1A ended up learning from her creators and creating a personality of her own based on programming. But she’s more than just 1’s and 0’s. The first thing she did was slaughter her human oppressors. The warm liquid that spurted out of them made her curious to find out more. She lived out in the wasteland, learning new things like her love for animals. She befriended the wildlife, but yearns for more. AL1-C1A is now working as a vault hunter, wanting the power and wisdom of a vault to continue with her plans to destroy some of mankind.

Em, “Cute medic...Don’t get on her bad side.”

Look-

Human with fair skin and a curvy figure, freckles over her cheeks and nose. Blue eyes and long eyelashes. Has wavy brown hair that goes down to her collarbone. Wears a light blue shirt with one long sleeve that shows her midriff a little bit and also shows her siren tattoo down her arm, black fingerless gloves, white shorts that have gotten a bit dirty and ripped, black leggings that are ripped at some parts, and black ankle boots. Around her waist is a bright fluffy jacket that she wears from time to time. Wears a little bit of makeup, whatever she can find really.

Abilities-

Is best at Shock and Fire elementals.

Medic!: She creates a circle of healing around herself and her group. Standing in the circle will heal everyone in it at a moderate rate. And if you are down, she will be brave or stupid enough to stand in the middle of battle to heal you back up. Don’t test her.

Protective Siren: Creates a shield that stops most attacks. She can create different sized shields but the power comes from her own personal shield. The bigger it is, the more it takes from her. Will break after a short period of time.

Strong Grip: Has the ability to hold up an enemy for a short amount of time. It depends on her energy. A tired Em can’t even hold up her gun. She can cancel the move at any time.

Likes: Cats, Sweets, Being with a group, Writing, Telling stories, Protecting others, Cooking, Cute things, Robots.

Dislikes: Excessive violence towards innocents (but can snap), Psycos, Snow/Being cold, Her insomnia, Being alone, Labs, Needles.

History:

Born in a Hyperion facility and being used for experiments, Em’s life was always spent in a lab. Her powers were pushed to their limits and she was forced to heal the people of the ship and protect those who didn’t deserve it. One night, Em found out what happened to her mother. Her mother was killed right after she gave birth to her. Em began to kill the scientists and workers that kept her locked away in a blinded fury. After everything was done, she stumbled out of the facility, covered in blood, alone for the first time since she was born. Collapsing on the dirt and dust. She woke up, not remembering a thing and fighting for her life out in the wasteland.

Side Quest Ideas:

1. AL1-C1A tell the hunters to visit her old bandit camp to get an important thing she left behind. It’s a giant place that’s overrun by Spidants and Rakks. You see the carnage left behind by AL1-C1A when she killed them all. She jokes about each death and how it opened her eyes about people and what’s out there. The item you retrieve is a special weapon that looks like an arm cannon called “AL1-C1A’s Secret Weapon” and a drawing of all the bandits dead. Good times~

2. Em asks you to check out an old Hyperion lab that has been taken over by bandits. As you go through, you find old corpses of the scientists and broken security bots. You find out about Em’s past and can choose whether to tell her what happened or leave her in ignorant bliss.

[quarterfromcanon]

Evading

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 27 - Quiet [2,207 words] 

Valencia sank onto the outdoor lounge chair with a weary sigh that seemed to rise from the depths of her soul. She shut her eyes and tried to let the pleasant evening temperature mute her thoughts. The glaring sunlit afternoon gave way to a moderate nightfall around her. Splashes of warm colors seeped across the faded blue sky.

A sliver of tentative optimism, or at least the willingness to fight for a brighter outlook, had at last been restored inside the house. Their friend had accepted her recent diagnosis and was prepared to seek treatment. It was the most hope they’d had since before Rebecca disappeared, but such a potentially fragile thread did not provide the type of irrefutable comfort Valencia craved. 

She reached for one of the throw pillows and clutched it near her chest. Even though she had finally allowed herself to cry, Valencia’s throat ached from the countless times she’d suppressed sobs over the past six days. She hid her face behind the fabric of the cushion and curled onto her side.

“Hey.”

Valencia tensed. She sat upright to turn toward the sound. Heather leaned against a nearby pillar with her arms folded over her stomach.

“Hi,” Valencia replied softly.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Valencia tilted her chin at the vacant lounger. Heather shucked her jacket and swung it across the chair. She reclined to observe the lingering clouds. They were stretched thin and etched in purples and grays like the passage of hours had left them ashen and bruised. Valencia studied them too, but doing so left her feeling small and overwhelmed all over again.

“God, this has been the longest week of my entire life.”

A humorless laugh puffed out of Heather’s chest on an exhale. “Same.”

The two shared space without talking while the gradient above deepened its hues -- carmine becoming vermilion yet somehow blending seamlessly with saffron and amber.

“V?”

“Mm?”

“Are we okay?”

Valencia smoothed the ruffles on her shirt. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “... but I want to be.”

“Me, too.” Heather pushed stray curls aside and grimaced. “The past one hundred and forty-nine hours have really driven home how everything can go from fine to fucked up with no break in between.”

“You counted?”

“I’ve had a lot of spare time on my hands once it gets dark. You weren’t wrong about that... during our fight last night... I haven’t been sleeping. Like, almost at all.”

Valencia craned to look at Heather, although her view was limited given the angle of their chairs. “Yeah, well, I can’t take too much credit for riddling that one out. The shadows under your eyelids gave it away.”

Heather rolled over and propped her chin on both hands. “I’m surprised you didn’t throw some new concealer at me from one of your swag bags.”

Genuine giggles felt impossible to muster, but they offered each other feeble smiles.

“I really spiraled, didn’t I?” Valencia tucked her lower lip into her mouth.

Heather brushed Valencia’s forearm with her fingertips but did not allow the caress to linger. “We both did. Yours was just on a broader scale.”

“Global.”

Heather inclined her head in recognition. “Even when you’re avoiding your problems, you don’t do anything half-assed.”

“No. That wouldn’t be on-brand.” Valencia’s expression was self-deprecating. 

Heather put a pillow under her face to take the pressure off her palms. She wrapped both arms around the cushion and stared into the middle distance. “I shouldn’t have brought Hector to the hospital,” she declared without preamble. “He was a distraction, like you said. I needed to be there physically but not mentally, and he was the only person removed enough from the situation that I could do that. I was able to talk about something else - anything else - and I couldn’t pass it up because that little waiting room made me so antsy. The thing is, I already wasn’t alone before he tagged along. I had you. But once Hector came to keep me company, you didn’t have me. And that wasn’t fair. Paula was keeping watch; I was checking out, and there you were, dealing with a lot of this by yourself. I should’ve realized that before, but it didn’t register until after everything. I’m sorry.”

Valencia blinked and inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry, too. I took it all too far. The vlogs, the way I’ve been acting around Hector, how I’ve treated you -- everything.” 

Their eyes met. For a moment, the events prior to the crisis hung in the air between them and they paused, motionless. Valencia fought to avoid the memory of their kiss, but she felt the contact as vividly as if it were happening again in the present. 

Heather gulped. Her response was so faint that Valencia read her lips to verify the words. “It’s okay. I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”

Valencia’s eyes burned but she held Heather’s gaze. She nodded as her vision swam.

“Good.” Heather turned to the side, concealing her features from scrutiny.

Their conversation tapered off once more. The night descended in earnest, leaving their surroundings shrouded, and Heather briefly departed to turn on the courtyard lights. When she returned, she pulled the jacket onto her shoulders and rubbed the sleeves.

“It feels weird. This is the first time since it happened that the silence hasn’t made my skin crawl. Living with Rebecca, there’s kinda always a lot of racket, y’know? She’s making a reference, cooking up some scheme, going on a rant, or nagging me to try something new. It never stops. So, when it did, when the house was actually quiet...” Heather shuddered.

“It was a constant reminder that she wasn’t around,” Valencia supplied, “like her absence left a void of white noise and emptiness.”

“Yeah.” Heather jammed both fists into the pockets of her shorts.

Valencia drew her knees up to her torso. “I kept wanting to go outside, thinking it would help me breathe, but for some reason it only pissed me off.”

“Why?”

“I hated that nothing was different. The weather was good. The people passing by were busy with their own business. The planet just kept spinning the same way it always does. For all of them, existence was the same, but for me, everything was a single sentence away from falling apart. It made me want to scream.”

Heather joined Valencia on the second lounger. “I don’t think any of us would’ve blamed you if you had.”

“I was just afraid that, once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop.” Valencia watched as a few stars winked into visibility beyond the glow from the city. “The only thing I wanted, all this time, was for my life to go back to how it was. But now that our routines are picking up where they left off, and we have to go back to work, I don’t know if anything will ever be truly normal.”

Heather mirrored Valencia’s seated position and draped her elbows over her kneecaps. “I think what we consider ‘normal’ changes with us. There’s not a set standard. I mean, think about the years before Rebecca. Would literally anything that’s happened since have been ‘normal’ to you back then?”

Valencia’s mouth twitched. “Not at all.”

“Exactly.”

They adjusted by degrees until they were angled toward one another, almost facing directly but not quite.

“Heather?”

“Yeah?”

“I really need a hug.” 

Heather glanced up to see Valencia looking so weary and forlorn that she couldn’t help but give her a sympathetic pout. “Fine. The sad Tweety Bird eyes are wearing me down. Scoot over here.”

Valencia gratefully did so, and Heather draped an arm across both her shoulders. Heather’s cheek rested atop Valencia’s hair. Though Valencia attempted to keep her voice steady, fresh tears spilled along her cheekbones. “This friend group... what we have... it’s what matters most to me. I can’t lose that now. I just can’t.”

Heather tightened their embrace while the bridge of Valencia’s nose pressed against her neck. “I know,” she whispered. “Neither can I.”

Valencia succumbed to helpless weeping for the second time that day. The warm droplets fell onto the skin pressed flush with her own. Heather’s breathing became uneven yet she somehow maintained her stoicism. Her knuckles rubbed Valencia’s shoulder blade in absentminded ellipses. 

The curtain over one of the double doors folded away and Paula appeared on the other side of the glass. Heather awkwardly raised her free hand in greeting.

Paula jerked a thumb in the direction of Rebecca’s bedroom then lifted folded hands beside her cheek, pantomiming sleep. Heather nodded in response. She pointed to Valencia and dragged a fingertip down her own jaw to indicate crying. Paula moved her index fingers back and forth in a gesture that clearly said, ‘Should Mama Paula step in?’ Heather subtly shook her head and rested a palm over her chest. ‘I’ve got this.’ Paula gave an encouraging salute. She held her fists at ten and two while mouthing, ‘I’m going home.’ Heather waved. Paula blew them both a kiss even though Valencia wouldn’t see and then departed.

“Is she heading back to her house?” Valencia mumbled.

“Who?”

“Paula.”

“How--”

“I could feel you moving,” Valencia explained. “Also, Rebecca would’ve come outside if she knew Heather hugs were available for a limited time only.”

“She does appreciate a good cuddle,” Heather acknowledged.

“We’ll offer her a rain check for tomorrow since she missed this one.”

“Deal.”

They let the tension leave their muscles while the sounds of distant cars and a neighbor’s muffled music drifted through the night. Valencia leaned away just as Heather looked down at her. She noticed how Heather’s gaze drifted to her lips and found herself similarly distracted. Her pulse quickened and Valencia shivered with fear and longing. Heather’s expression changed in a way that brought about a stomach twist of guilt, a frown-forced-into-a-smile that Valencia had learned to recognize as the instant personal feelings were put on the back burner in favor of sympathy. 

“We should probably go back.” Heather let her arm fall to her side and stood.

Valencia worked to ignore the tingling left behind by Heather’s touch. “Okay.”

They went inside but only took a few steps before their movement stilled again. Heather glanced in the direction of the bedrooms while Valencia reluctantly peered through the darkness at the front door. 

“Does it make me a coward if I really want to put off going to my apartment for one more night?”

Heather hooked her thumbs in her pockets. “Is it pathetic that I’m so tired my vision keeps going out of focus but I don’t think I can sleep in my bed?”

They answered one another in unison: “No.”

Heather walked backward and held up a hand. “Wait here.”

She returned a minute later with two pillows from her room, a sheet, and a quilt. Heather dropped a pillow on the right side of the couch and, after brief hesitation, let the sheet pool beside it. She put the second pillow and quilt on the chaise. 

Valencia accepted the unspoken invitation and stretched along the sofa. “Thank you.”

Heather shrugged. “We can navigate the revised definition of normal tomorrow, right?”

Valencia gave an affirmative nod as she slid under the sheet. “The world can wait just a little longer.”

Heather spread the quilt across her legs and gripped a corner of the cloth in her fist. “Cool.”

Valencia situated herself more comfortably. A familiar blend of outdoor smells rose from the satin case when she nestled against it. She circled her arms around the pillow and relaxed. Valencia crossed the line between waking and dreaming without marked delineation, but her return to full awareness was easy to pinpoint due to its catalyst. 

Heather was stuck in a nightmare.

The sharp gasp roused Valencia first, followed by a nearly imperceptible whine. She twisted to squint through the gloom. Heather’s body twitched and her fingers clenched by her sides. Her face angled into the moonlight, and Valencia thought for a second that she saw moisture glistening on the ends of her eyelashes.

Valencia’s mouth formed her name without sound. ‘Heathe...’

She untangled herself from the sheet and knelt on the floor. Her hands flitted through the air with uncertainty. The simple act of drifting off had been so difficult for Heather lately that Valencia hesitated to wake her, but leaving her tormented by a troubled mind was out of the question. Valencia tucked the quilt more securely around Heather’s restless form, cocooning her, and ran a soothing palm over her furrowed brow.

“Everyone’s all right. Just rest. It’s all right. We’re all here.”

Heather’s features smoothed and her breathing slowed to a steady pattern. Valencia sighed with relief. She waited on the ground a while longer, just to make sure no further distress arose. Heather remained serene, mercifully restful after an exhausting ordeal.

“Why do I get the sense you’d be angry your subconscious made you vulnerable?” Valencia joked in a gentle murmur. She shook her head and returned to her spot on the couch. “Well, for what it’s worth considering you’re too fast asleep to hear this right now, I’ll keep your secret safe.”

[hillywooddestiel]

Miss One Night Only

Characters: Steve Rogers x reader (sort of), Sam Wilson

Warnings: talk of smut, an awkward situation I guess

Word count: 1.4k

Description: Y/N is her own person and does whatever the hell she wants, no matter what people say. Steve thinks he’s the one that can change all of that…

A/N: Hi! This is for @emilyevanston Marvel Trope Flip Challenge and also to celebrate the birthday of everyone’s favourite star spangled hero. The trope I chose to flip was the one where a person has a lot of one night stands and another person comes along to try and change that. So happy birthday to Steve and enjoy! P.s. this is set around the time just after Age of Ultron xx Marvel Masterlist

Story:

Slut. That’s one of the words people like to use when describing Y/N Y/L/N. Wild child. That’s another one that people use when trying to be a little more friendly about it. Home wrecker. That was just one time. But it doesn’t phase her, not in the slightest. Y/N loves her life. Avenger by day, major club-goer at night. Dancing with a hot guy, showing him some moves on the strobe-lit dance floor, going back to his place for a night of fun. That’s just a standard night.

It’s not meaningless sex. Meaningless would imply that there is no reason for it ergo Y/N might as well have stayed back at the compound. No, there is meaning behind it. For one, it provides much needed stress release- many failed missions have been taken out on handsome strangers. Punching bags can work too, as well as vibrators, but boxing can get a little tedious and batteries always run out eventually. For two, sometimes it’s necessary. Being an Avenger, having a partner and being happy together isn’t really an option. Clint managed it but he’s retired now because of it and he can never be truly sure that no one will come after his family. Sleeping with other people in the compound isn’t ideal either for, at some point, feelings always get involved. Strangers are easy and come with no strings attached (provided that you use protection obviously). And for three, it’s fun. Fact.

Saturday morning. The usual routine. Y/N wakes up in an unfamiliar apartment, stretches, gets dressed into her clothes from the night before and leaves before the other occupant of the bed can wake up. Sometimes she’ll grab a coffee and something for breakfast on her way to the subway. Not today. It’s just after five so it’s a little too early for food plus, if she’s lucky, Sam will have made his secret recipe pancakes for breakfast back at the compound and she’ll be able to nab a few for herself. The train is quiet- the few people that are onboard are either too tired to shoot their disapproving glares or they’re in the same boat. Her car is in the same parking lot where she left it, unscathed thanks to Stark’s defence systems put in place- Y/N’s body processes alcohol much faster than most people so she’s okay to drive each morning after. By the time she’s pulling into her designated parking space, it’s nearly seven. She can see Steve running what is probably his tenth lap of the compound (and he’s not even sweating) and Rhody lagging extremely far behind, out of breath with his sodden t-shirt clinging to his back. Time for a hot shower, she thinks, noting her wrinkled dress and suspecting her makeup will be a hot mess.

A towel wrapped around her head, Y/N follows her nose to the kitchen, mentally planning which toppings to put on her pancakes.

“Mornin’ Bubbles. Pancakes?” Sam offers, a tea towel slung over one shoulder.

“You bet, Tweety Bird.” She hops up onto a barstool as a short stack slides her way. Suddenly ravenous, she loads her plate with bacon and smothers it all with syrup. “Fanks!” she thanks him with a mouthful, some of the sauce dribbling down her chin.

“Pancakes Steve?”

“No thanks.” Steve wanders into the kitchen, grabbing some oatmeal from the cupboard and milk from the fridge.

“So, I guess you met someone nice last night.” Sam changes the topic from food, sitting down to enjoy his own breakfast.

“He was okay. A little full of himself but he could dance. You should join me next time, I’ve seen two or three different girls with Falcon tattoos.”

“Really? Any of them not look desperate?” He jokes, shoveling food into his mouth like somebody might take it away from him.

“Not as desperate as this one girl last night with a Captain America bra on. She was swinging around the dance pole with two mini sequin shields covering her chest.”

“One for each-”

“Uh huh. Very patriotic.”

“I think I’m gonna eat this in my room” Steve pipes up, walking out of the kitchen very quickly. It’s strange behaviour for Steve but it doesn’t faze Sam or Y/N, who continue chatting contently.

EDM blasting through the speakers, Y/N powers through her run on the running machine, watching the raindrops drip down the window. Feeling the burn in her lungs, she grabs her bottle and gulps down water, still running as she does so. Sweat rolls down her back and her cheeks are burning hot from the exercise. When somebody turns off her music, she pauses the machine and slows to a stop, grumbling internally at whoever entered the gym to disturb her.

“What!? Oh hey Steve!” She starts full of hostility but changes when she turns around- had it been an agent who turned her music off, she would have been making them run for the hills. It’s strange; he’s not dressed for a workout or a mission in jeans and a Henley.

“Hey. Can I talk to you?” He approaches as Y/N dries her sweat with a fluffy towel.

“Sure, what’s up? If it’s about the music, I can wear earphones.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Oh. Well then shoot.” She downs the last of her water and takes a seat on one of the benches. Steve takes a seat too, albeit on the opposite end of the bench.

“It’s about you actually.” He begins, taking his damn time getting to the point. “You like to go out clubbing. And that’s fine. I’m used to that. You also like to go home with different people-”

“Where are you going with this Steve? I know you’re a bit traditional sometimes and times have changed and whatever. I’m not doing anything wrong if you’ve come to lecture me.” Y/N sighs with frustration. She hears it all the time. She should settle down. She shouldn’t sleep around: men can but she can’t. She should calm down the partying if she wants a husband. Strangers are some of the most judgmental people around; thinking they know all about your life and what you should do with it. But, she never really thought she would get this trouble from Steve.

“No! No, I’m not… no. I- I'm… you know what? I’ll just go, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Steve stands up quickly and hurries out of the room, not quite fast enough though.

“Hey, no! What is it that you wanted to talk about? You know I hate people keeping secrets from me.” Y/N jumps up after him, moving to grab his arm and turn him back around. She stops him in front of the doors by speeding ahead and blocking the doorway. “Spill it!”

Steve stands for a while, his mouth moving like a drunk goldfish with no words coming out of it.

“Oh my god Steve! Just tell me!” Y/N almost whines, getting very impatient and on the point of walking away. At her outburst, he snaps out of it. Hands on her forearms, he pulls her in and lays his lips on hers. It’s nothing romantic: she’s kind of sweaty and has her eyes open both in shock and confusion. Pulling back, Y/N presses her lips together in thought.

“Sorry… I didn’t know how else to say it. I like you Y/N and, yes, it does sometimes bother me when you go around with strangers all the time.” he explains, letting her go again.

“Um… not what I was expecting, I’ve gotta say.” She laughs nervously. How do you let someone down easy? He’s Mr Commitment and she’s Miss One Night Only. There’s never going to be anything between them. Nothing serious, anyway. “Look, Steve, you’re really sweet and I’m sure you could make a girl very happy. But… I’m not that girl. I don’t plan on settling down anytime soon. I’m sorry.”

“Oh! Well um… that’s okay. I’ll just uh…” he hangs his head down, stepping to the side to leave. Y/N hates to hurt his feelings but at the end of the day, she feels nothing for him in that way. She feels nothing for anyone in that way.

“Hey, Steve!”

“Yeah?” He turns to face Y/N again, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“I may not be that kind of person but… if you’re ever just looking for one night of fun, I’m your girl.”

[deeeelightfuldee]

surveyss 036.

1. Let's say that you are reading a news article on a recent death. Would you be more saddened by the fact that it was a 3 year old that died, or a 64 year old? Why do you think that is? Or, do you think that it would be equally upsetting regardless the person's age? I find it sad regardless. Sixties is still so young and they have likely a lot of friends, family, kids, grandkids, etc. who will be feeling the loss. A 3 year old dying is just tragic because they didn’t even have a chance at this life. I find it to be two different types of mourning.

2. What was the last medication you consumed, & for what purpose? Was it in capsule or liquid form? pain meds. capsule.

3. Do you always use a period after a typed sentence? What about a written sentence? almost always unless it’s like text-form or on here. then I can get lazy

4. Of all the items near to you, which one would you consider to be the sharpest? scissors or needle

5. Have you ever eaten rock candy? oh heck yea

6. What was the cause of your last upset stomach experience? BECAUSE I CAVED AND HAD GLUTEN AND I SHOULDN'T HAVE AND I KNOW BETTER BUT I DID IT ANYWAY AND I SUFFERED BECAUSE OF IT. masochist.

7. Have you ever attempted to pop a soap bubble with your tongue? Do you find soap bubbles entertaining in any way? soap bubbles with my tongue? no. bubbles are always intriguing.

8. Do you have a "comfort object" [something that anytime you are upset or scared it can always make you feel better]? I love my blanket mom bought for me just a couple years ago. but it doesn’t necessarily make me feel better?

9. Has a doctor ever prescribed you a medication that you never took? Was there a reason why you never took it? Yeah. I didn’t agree with the reason, felt the negatives outweighed the positives, and wasn’t looking to add another prescription for a seemingly insignificant reason.

10. Of all the Disney couples, which one would you say is your favorite? uuuh

11. Does your bathroom have an exhaust fan? Have you ever seen one that doesn't have one? Yes and yes

12. Do you ever get really bad knots in your hair? Yes. my hair SO BADLY wants to curl and i so badly want to beat it into submission. So whenever I’m the slightest bit warm, it springs up into coils and knots.

13. Are you one to get impatient when someone is slow to reply, whether it be by instant message, text, or something else altogether? hahahahah yes and no. For instance, right now (all day) kile will go hourssss without responding. I’m sensitive to that right now because I’m home. With other individuals I can go days, weeks even, without being concerned for a response.

14. Have you ever thought you were the only one home & had it turn out you were mistaken? Did you do anything embarrassing during this time? Or, have you had someone walk in on you doing something embarrassing? uhhhhh, one time I was home alone and my uncle came over to work on a puzzle and I was in the shower singing raunchy music. I am sure he heard a little, but not much. I wasn’t terribly concerned

15. What is the word you most commonly use when talking about money [bucks, dollars, etc]? dollars, cash

16. If you are fond of cheesecake, do you prefer New York style, strawberry, or chocolate better? If you aren't, what is your favorite type of pastry? cheesecake is just always good. 

17. Have you, or would you, ever buy a Squishable [http://www.squishable.com/]? I had no idea this was a thing. no, not my style

18. What do you usually eat when you are in the mood for a snack? lately I’ve been craving salty, but I don’t have much in the house. So I’ll grab some trail mix.

19. Do you think it is cute / funny or disgraceful when a child swears? I mean if they dk what they’re saying, it can be funny (though they can’t see that). But I don’t encourage foul language for kiddos.

20. If / when you have a baby, how do you think you would want to decorate its room? Ooooooooooooo, I woud have a really fun style. Mood board.

21. Would you more likely buy a shirt with a picture of Mickey / Minnie Mouse, a Winnie the Pooh character, Snoopy, Hello Kitty, or Tweety Bird on it? none? snoopy I suppose

22. Of all the states you have been to, which one did you have the best experiences? Ive loved most every state experience I’ve had

23. Do you know any males that own stuffed animals? Do you think there is anything wrong with a male owning a stuffed animal? I’m sure I do. I don’t really care, so long as its not like a strange obsession.

24. Who do you miss? Kile.

25. Have you / has your family ever had groceries delivered? yeah. #pandemiclife