#thought about them and almost started crying /srs

[apocalyptic-byler]

do yall ever think about how richie tozier— richie, who has the biggest mouth out of all the losers, who is a comedian and the most comedic character, and who is literally nicknamed trashmouth, could’ve roasted the living hell out of pennywise but didnt because he wanted to stay by eddie’s side for as long as possible or is it only me

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

having a category 12 "thought about william wisp for too long" moment

[cheesiedomino]

Second Chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

[wspider-man]

Guys what has Mob not gone through. Imma make a list.

WARNING!!!!! HUGE YAP SESSION INCOMING!!!

1.) starting off strong he almost killed three high schoolers and his brother at the ripe age of 9

2.) time skip he gets recruited to a cult where an evil spirit tells him he’s live stock with no emotion and feelings and he’ll never be anything more.

3.) few days later he encounters his first real esper and said esper proceeded to beat the shit out of him and choke him until he was dead(?)

3.) his brother tells him that he never cared about him and doesn’t want to be his brother from now on and practically tells him he’s dead to him. Then Ritsu gets kidnapped and needs Shigeo to come rescue him.

4.) Mob beats up grown adults who are trying to MURDER him. One even makes him relive his worst memory.

5.) his mentor gets stabbed in the back and for a moment everyone thinks he’s dead (probably including mob) AND THIS IS JUST SEASON ONE!!!

6.) Shigeo has these horrible thoughts about going rouge and no one being able to stop him (unless they kill him)

7.) FIGHT ANOTHER GROWN ADULT SPIRIT WHO PROCEEDS TO TRAP HIM IN AN ALTERNATE WORLD WHERE HE HAS NO FAMILY OR FRIENDS AND EVERYONE IS CRUEL

8.) they knock his teeth out, kill a cat infront of him, stab him with a box cutter(manga only), pushes him to the brink where he finally uses his powers, and then they hit him over the head with a brick, essentially killing him.

9.) now he has to fight this absolute devil of a spirit that TEARS HIS ARM OFF and then eats him but Mob wins so yippeee!!!

10.) MOB MAKES FRIENDS, but his closest friend and mentor basically tells him they’re all fake and using him and without him, mob would be all alone.

11.) now some redhead sets his house on fire and puts fake corpses of his whole family in there for him to find. This obviously upsets him greatly😀

12.) he passes out only to wake up from being tossed around the city to find out TERRORISTS ARE TAKING OVER SEASONING CITY AND GUESS WHO HAS TO STOP THEM???

13.) mob faces mogami again and he is absolutely terrified you can see it in his face. BUT HE TALKS SENSE INTO HIM LIKE THE GOOD PERSON HE IS

14.) he now has to go up into a tower to have a fight with the head terrorist and proceeds to get his shit rocked. But what’s this? REIGENS HERE WITH A GUN!!!! He shoots and….!!!! It does nothing. Reigen is hit with an explosion and mob thinks he died, again.

15.) everyone’s ok but Mobert is pissed. So he beats the shit out of Suzuki Senior and proceeds to lose his sense of self and just becomes a maniacal monster who can’t stop laughing at the feeling of letting go.

16.) but that all stops when sees the absolute horror is his brothers eyes so now he’s ethically fighting.

17.) Suzuki Sr is about to explode but mob takes all that energy, and directs it to himself, probably only surviving because of those damn broccoli seeds. AND THATS SEASON TWO DONE!

18.) season three, there’s a whole religion based on Shigeo but a false leader come and claims he’s the god they are worshiping and the WHOLE CITY IS BRAINWASHED

19.) mob goes to fight him only to find out it’s his closest friend and he has control of Teruki, one of his first ever friends and he had to fight him, again.

20.) he wins blah blah blah Dimple wants to kill him but ultimately doesn’t and ends up saving him once a god is actually born from all the worshiping. And boom dimple dies but Mob can’t remember it and all he can do is cry.

21.) Shigeos gonna confess to his crush!!!! YAY!!! He gets hit by a car and dies. But, because of how strong his will is he gets up and keeps walking destroying anything and anyone in his path.

22.) now all his friends are trying to stop him, but he just keeps hurting them and he can’t stop. He’s just in his own head watching all this happening. He says “you don’t have to think of this as me anymore” meaning he wants them to hurt him, he wants them to kill him. It doesn’t work he keeps barreling through hurting his loved ones and he find out his powers manifested into a whole different consciousness.

23.) last person trying to stop him is his mentor who taught him everything he knows on being a good person. His mentor, Reigen, is not a good person and has been lying to him his whole life about having powers. It breaks mob out of his trance and he moves on to confess.

24.) he comes back to Reigen and Dimple (back to life) andddd……!!!!! HES REJ-ected? ALL THAT TO GET REJECTED?!?! But seriously it helps the character so much so I think that needed to happen. AND SEASON THREE IS OVER!!

Holy yap bro anyway if I was mob I would’ve laid in a hole and died so props to him for being so strong and caring. I strive to be like him.

[lonely-eli]

Trippin' on Hallucinogenics - Chapter 1

His father loved two things most: beating Dark Wizards and his work. He thought that anyone who didn’t share the same passions was a failure in the eyes of wizard society. Barty was one of those failures, even though he was only eleven, because he just couldn’t find the interest. He tried, he listened with rapt attention as his father droned on and on about whatever dark wizard he was “so close” to catching. But always found his attention wandering to the book he had read that day.

Barty always did as much as he could for his father’s attention, once he purposefully left a poster up in his room when guests were over, granting him an angry lecture. He climbed trees and snuck out late. He wore muggle clothing that his mother had gotten for him after he asked. Though he always felt a flash of fear whenever he was caught, like this was the time that would send his father over the edge. But all it ever did was make Bartemius Crouch Sr. see his son as a disappointment and shout angrily . He raised his hands sometimes, when Barty was being a particular nuisance, but never hit him. It was almost like he was also scared of his son.

Barty did notice that his mother flinched in the presence of his father, filling him with a flash of anger that he hid through smiles and nods. He never had to fight for his mother’s attention, she simply gave it to him. She would give him the world if she could.

When he was very little and cried about his father being gone, she would hug him close before singing to him. He always calmed down and eventually fell asleep in his mothers arms. She was always there when he woke up and he would just snuggle closer, accepting that she would always be there. When she woke up she would ruffle his hair and carry him into the dining room where she would sit down and wait for the elves to bring their food.

They still have breakfast together every day, it’s the best time for them to exist together. Then they’ll leave to go do their own activities before returning for dinner.

The day the letter came, Barty woke up grumpy. The house elves shook him awake.

“It’s time for young master Crouch to wake up!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Barty mumbled into his pillow, then he stretched and yawned. 

“A letter has arrived for you,” the house elf said. Barty couldn’t remember her name. Though she always made sure to make him sweets when he was feeling down.

Barty rolled out of bed with a groan, “I think I’m going to die.”

The house elf looked down at him with wide eyes, “I can get Master Crouch Junior some medicine! I’ll go get Mistress Crouch!”

“No, no, no,” Barty eventually said when the house elf started to panic, “I’m fine, just tired.”

Barty slumped back onto the ground, “Next time don’t wake me up so early.”

“This is the normal time— is young Master Crouch sure he is okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Barty said with a big smile that immediately dropped, he sighed, “Is Father home?”

The elf looked uncomfortable at that ask. Barty started to get agitated when she didn’t respond, “Well is he?!”

“No, Master Crouch, he’s still on business.”

“Mhm,” Barty said, then got up, “I’m heading down.”

“Wonderful!” the elf said, and she really seemed to believe it. Barty nodded then sighed and walked downstairs.

Barty’s mother was crying at the breakfast table when he walked in.

“Mother?” he asked, standing in the doorway. She startled and wiped her eyes, tears ceasing immediately from years of practice.

“Sorry, I–”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted, “What’s wrong?” She smiled at him, and he felt a sense of comfort like he always did. He sat down across from her. She handed him a letter. He let out a sigh of relief and laid his head on the table after reading the word “Hogwarts”.

His mother laughed, “You’re going to Hogwarts!”

They had been slightly worried when the letter hadn’t arrived so close to the school year, Barty hadn’t known whether he was magical enough to be accepted, despite the release of magic he sometimes felt if he got too emotional. But he had been accepted, and his father wouldn’t be disappointed in him for it. Barty smiled into the table before sitting up, taking out the letter and reading it.

“The supplies are in Diagon Alley,” Barty guessed. He had been to Diagon Alley before and had watched all the kids get ready for school.

“We’ll leave in a little bit,” his mother said, then she looked pointedly at his pajamas. He grinned.

“Are you saying I can’t wear this?” Barty asked, gesturing to his outfit. It was a soft blue t-shirt and flannel pants. His mother shook her head with a small smile.

“No, go get into your robes.”

“Yes, mother,” Barty conceded, jumping away from the dinner table with his letter.

He went into his room which, since his father was away, was covered in posters and small trinkets. He mostly always hid them whenever his father was around because he liked to pick and choose the battles he fought. He would stuff them underneath his bed to hide them. He reached into his dresser and pulled out a tank top, trousers, and a black robe, which he carried with him into the bathroom.

Barty was not too handsome of a boy. He had the same dark hair as his mother with the face of his father, which made him ugly. His hair was sticking out in all directions when he looked in the mirror so he left it, it always upset his father for him to go out with unkempt hair.

“Bartemius!” his mother called, “I’m leaving!”

Barty flinched at the name, but quickly threw his robe on and ran downstairs to meet his mother. She was wearing a nice white dress that fell to her ankles but made her look more ghostly than she already did. She wrapped her son up in a hug before apparating the both of them to Diagon Alley.

****

Diagon Alley was filled with witches and wizards. They ran in and out of shops with large books. Kids were leaving Ollivanders with shiny new wands. Some even had pets, large owls, tiny toads, and Barty even saw a snake belonging to a kid wearing green. Barty looked to his mother and immediately started dragging her to Ollivanders.

“Ah, Mr. Rosier, completely different wands are to be expected. The wand does choose the wizard.”

There was a ratty looking man standing in front of two kids and a man who looked like their father. Both kids were holding new wands that looked right in their hands. The kids looked like twins with the boy having bleached curls that fell into his eyes and the girl having bleached dreads that fell past her shoulders. The girl looked embarrassed and was trying to stop her father, while the boy played with his wand boredly.

They were the Rosier family. A name that Barty knew from the long lectures of his father. 

“They’re a dark family!” his father shouted almost every time he was home, “None of them are right.”

“Hello? Mr. Ollivander?” his mother said, interrupting Mr. Rosier’s next sentence.

“Oh! Now, Mr. Rosier, if you don’t mind, I do have other customers—”

“These wands are good Father,” the boy said, flicking his wand.

“Yes!” squeaked the girl.

The boy stared at Barty, who smiled back, his mother grabbed Barty’s hand.

“Very well,” Lord Rosier said, turning to pay for the wands, Ollivander quickly hopped over the counter and rang him up.

“I’m Pandora,” Pandora told Barty with a smile, “Pandora Rosier. This grump is Evan.”

“Bartemius Crouch Jr.,” Barty greeted, then he glanced at his mother.

“Bartemius,” the boy, Evan, repeated, enunciating every syllable, “Crouch.”

“That’s me.”

Evan squinted his eyes like he was going to say something but then his father reached down and grabbed Evan’s hand.

“Come on, children,” his father said.

Barty felt a flash of jealousy as Evan’s father led both of his children away, then laughed with them once they were outside. It looked like he laughed at something that Evan said. His gaze was dragged back to Ollivander though when the man let out a cough.

“A Crouch,” Ollivander said, like he was a genius for coming up with Barty’s last name, “You’ll want a strong wand.”

Ollivander ruffled through the shelves of shelves of wands before returning with a wand in a blue case.

“A cypress wand with a dragon heartstring,” Ollivander said, revealing a thin and graceful wand, “A powerful wand, meant for a hero.”

Barty waved the wand, and powerful magic shot out, hitting Ollivander’s desk and overturning it.

“That’s no good,” Ollivander noticed. Barty shrugged, he kind of liked it. The recklessness of having a wand that didn’t want you, he would get it to listen to him.

But Ollivander snatched it out of his grip, and returned to laboring over the shelves.

“Two Holly wands in one day, I suppose,” muttered Ollivander, grabbing a box off the shelf, “Holly and DragonHeart string, matching young Master Rosier’s wand. Different dragons of course.”

Barty grabbed the wand from Ollivander quickly and flicked it. Wrong.

“I guess not,” Ollivander tutted, taking it back.

Finally, Ollivander pulled out a bright green box, and pulled out the prettiest wand that Barty had ever seen in his life. It was twisted slightly, but not enough to be uncomfortable. Barty eagerly took it and flicked it. Controlled magic spun out like a ribbon and twirled around him.

“It’s perfect,” Barty said once the magic had calmed down.

Ollivander nodded, “Yew wood with a dragon heartstring, strange for a Crouch.” He turned to Barty’s mother with a grave look on his face, “I don’t like to give Yew out often,  my lady, but this one called.”

Barty smiled, his wand felt right in his hand, he spun around with it. His mother watched him with a soft smile, “It looks like that’s the one, Mr. Ollivander.”

“I suppose it is,” he said, then turned to the register. Barty’s mother paid while Barty continued to play with his wand. Ollivander had a strange look on his face, “I suppose it is.”

The Crouch family left Ollivander’s with a new wand.

“Where to next?” His mother asked.

Another kid walked out of a store labeled “The Magical Menagerie” holding a toad that croaked in his hands. Barty paused and then turned to his mother with the biggest puppy dog eyes.

“No,” she laughed. Her son pouted.

“But Mother—”

“Your father would be so angry,” she said, then she sighed, “Something small should do. Just a toad.”

“A ferret!” Barty screamed, seeing the wormy creature in the window. His mother pursed her lips.

“I don’t know, Barty, how about a rat or a toad.”

Barty walked calmly into the shop. His mother sighed and chased after him.

[pukanavis]

Netaro Yowa SR Card Story 「Step by Step, Brick by Brick」 Track 2

Location: Pig Room

Toi: I’m back–

Netaro: Toi! I know who the culprit is! The one who gobbled up the pudding is—

Toi: !? W-Wait, stop—don’t say another thing!!

Netaro: Mghghghh–

Toi: Phew…that was close…

Netaro: Gasp—Who knew you were gutsy enough to slap your hand over another person's mouth!

Why'd you stop me?

Toi: Why wouldn’t I stop you!?

Can you explain yourself? Why did you try to spoil me?

Netaro: ‘Cause you wanted to know who the criminal is?

I thought you’d like it if I spared you all the waiting and went ahead and found out for you!

I looked up the anime adaptation and simulcast it at 2x speed across 3 different devices until I made it through 3 seasons. Now I’m an expert on all the ins and outs of the story, including who the main character ends up with ♪

Toi: That’s a crazy way to watch something!?

…Look, I’m glad that you wanted to do something nice for me, Netaro-san—

But it really isn’t necessary. I actually…hate that type of thing.

Netaro: You hate it?

Toi: Everyone enjoys things in their own way so I won’t shun you for watching it sped up—

But I think it’d be dishonest to say that you’re engaging with the story to its fullest that way.

In my opinion, there’s so much value to be had in taking your time. It allows you to immerse yourself and connect with the characters.

Plus, you’re always on the edge of your seat and you never know what kind of twist will shock you next—

Netaro: Interesting…it’s almost like watching someone’s life play out then?

Toi: Yeah! I think that laughing and crying alongside another person’s story is what makes dramas so appealing.

It just wouldn’t be any fun if you knew how everything would play out from the start.

Being told the end result takes away the intrigue from the rest of the story. It sucks, honestly. 

Netaro: Even though you have the option to foresee what happens next?

Toi: Especially because of that.

I want to treasure both the good and bad moments and appreciate them as they happen.

Netaro: …Uh…huh.

Hmm…okay! I get it now.

A drama is one of those things that are better to let drag out, huh?

Toi: Yep.

Netaro: Alright, my lips are sealed then!

Whenever we watch something together from now on, I’ll sit patiently beside you and watch along at the same speed.

Toi: I really appreciate it. Thanks for understanding.

Netaro: No worries, it’s a deal ♪

Toi: Yeah, it’s a deal.

Hey, once dinner’s over, why don’t we continue from where we left off last time?

I’m still dying to find out who the culprit is and I think it’ll be fun to get sucked into the story and chat about our thoughts together.

Netaro: Mhm, sounds good!

I can’t wait to see how excited you’re going to be!

Back

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

It has been a decade since my sex-reassignment surgery.

-

I had my SRS 10 years ago.

-

It's been almost 4 years since I had the first stage of my vaginoplasty.

-

I had my second SRS revision surgery.

-

I am getting a second surgery.

-

After my surgery, I was just in such a dark place and I didn't really want to talk about it. I didn't really want to have to go back into it and feel all those feelings over again.

-

I had a few complications. Bleedings, infections.

-

I've had complications and I've had a hard time.

-

I did have some complications and I did have some, you know, concerns that not everybody deals with.

-

I thought it would make me happier, and initially it did. Was that worth the constant issues I've had, the dilation I have to do for the rest of my life?

-

I'm having the worst time with dilation.

-

I was experiencing a little bit of dehiscence, which is basically when you are so swollen that the sutures that they put start to rip open. It was as bad as it sounds.

-

I have trouble urinating. I kind of walked around with it for a year before I seeked help.

-

The reason I'm dilating twice a day is because if I miss once, it is so painful, I like dread it so much because it's so painful.

-

I went to dilate again that night and I think I moved a stitch. I don't know what happened, but something happened, and I was in excruciating pain. It felt like literally somebody had, like, shot me or stabbed me or burned me or something down there.

-

I had to dilate and I had to try to open my urethra up, and it was just like.... yeah, I'm going to start crying.

-

I was bleeding every time. I literally was going to pass out. I threw up because I had so much pain.

-

I remember like, bawling my eyes out saying what did I do? Like, what did I do to myself? I fucked myself up. I was never going to heal from this.

-

My body is constantly trying to heal after surgery, since it considers it to be an open wound.

-

I mean, what can I do except go and have another revision?

-

I remember starting to cry in the surgeon's office because I was like, I'm depressed and I'm in school, it's painful, like, it's just, it's a lot.

-

The issues I had very early on should have been indications to me that I should not have done this. But I hated my male self so much that I needed to. And now there is no way to go back.

-

You can never go back.

-

When you get a surgery, it's not always gonna go well.

-

If I had known about the irreversible physical damage I caused my body, then I would have never done any of this.

-

It's very much a commitment for life. You're going to have to rely on doctors for the rest of your life.

-

Don't be like me and deny problems until it's too late. Rather, address them so you can be happier and live a healthier life.

==

I don't know who, but somebody needs to hear this. Somebody needs to hear that, as much as you hate your body right this moment, you will hate it even more once you're trapped in a malfunctioning body that is still trying to behave the way its genetics instruct it to, and despite your cosmetic intentions. You can never undo it.

Ritchie Herron is a detransitioned man who went through this procedure and now has to live with the consequences, now that he has a constantly closing "neo-vagina" where his genitals are supposed to be.

He explained that the reality of it - even notwithstanding complications - is not explained or well understood by those seeking it. Only the rosy sales brochure version.

So, you don’t get any information at the gender clinic about surgery. They don’t give you any videos, they don’t give you any sort of interactions with others who have got it. For instance, I heard about another clinic that, in their pre-surgery group, they introduced people who had had surgery, and the referral list for surgery dropped dramatically, when people realised what it’s like living like this, and it is very, very difficult. You only hear the positives.

You can't be "born in the wrong body," because you are your body. You and your body are the same organism.

[transfemlogan]

Texting Headcanons

Patton: using emojis 24/7. Literally every text will have some sort of emoji, even if it doesn't fit the original message. Texts like a dad & a mom combined. Uses grammar occassionally. Usually types in all caps, because he doesn't know how to turn them off. Sends the laughing emoji when he laughs at something. Prefers talking in person if he can.

"HEY, KIDDOS 👋 YOUR HAPPY-PAPPY PATTON LOVES YA ALL! 🥰💙😻"

Roman: uses emojis occassionally. Types in caps when he's excited. Uses capital letters when necessary and never any time else. Shorten words and uses popular acronyms. Says "ROLF" and "LMAO" when he laughs at texts. Uses the sparkle emoji constantly. Loves to facetime. Double texts like CRAZY

"Helloooo~ ✨️✨️ romans here!! A REMINDER for all of u 2 tell me what u thought of the script ASAP bcus thomas NEEEDDS it by tmrw!!!!"

Virgil: shorten every word ever even if its not readable. Types in all lower case with 0 grammar. Sends 💀 or "lol" when he inhales through his nose at something. Keysmashes when he finds something really funny. Prefers to text above all else & will cry if you try to call him. Spelling mistakes all over the place. Hard 2 tell if something is supoosed to be an acronym or if its a mistake?

"im not rding ur stpjd script roman also twll thomas not 2g2 that dumb party on sat or i swear 2 god ill bloqk all of u ok bye also hi pat"

Logan: proper grammar all of the time. Probably ends his messages with "sincerely, logan" (he knows theyre not letters or emails, but he can't help himself.) Says "that was funny" when he finds something funny (very rare). Prefers in person communication or calling, as he is usually busy working and can't text if he's using his hands. Doesn't use emojis ever & finds them so so stupid but will SOMETIMES use the heart emoji if he's comforting virgil or trying to be nice. Learns about tone indicators after virgil tells him & now he uses them all the time. Will start to let loose if he's comfortable around you. Looking at his msgs with virgil is almost like an entirely different person.

"Hello, all. I have read your script, Roman, and will be sending you my edits soon. I find it to be very long and wordy and full of mistakes. /neg You are lucky you have me to help you. Also, Virge, I'll try to get Thomas to not go to that party /srs, as he has many responsibilities that day, such as: cleaning his room, recording, and doing his laundry. Here is a link to my plan for next week. Please let me know if there's any complaints. Sincerely, Logan."

(Virgil: thnk u L . m not reading ur plsn ethr

Logan: Hi Virgil. That is alright. I'll just let you know next time we "hang out". Sincerely Logan.)

Janus: also texts all lower case & never uses commas but does use periods. Loves to use ":)" and "<3" (<- in a mean sarcastic way most of the time). Doesn't express laughter anytime anywhere. Prefers facetime or in person communication. Doesn't text often. Also doesn't respond often. Will leave you on read, he has other things to do. Uses tone indicators only if he is personally texting logan and no one else. Will sometimes not even respond to what you said in the first place.

"oh of course logan let's have thomas work all the time and never ever get any rest. sounds very healthy :). roman i read your script. hi patton".

(Roman: aand jan? What did u think??

Janus: Read 2:43 pm)

Remus: sends nudes in chat. And the most random gore vids he can find. Types in all caps willingly. Sends very strange emojis that dont match up with anything. Responds lightning quick but also ignores everything you say in order 2 send what he wants 2 talk abt so it doesnt even matter. Homestuck speak. Has never read homestuck.

"H3Y0 🦿🍒🛝😝 CHECK OUT TH12 PHOTO I JUST T00K RN. (Sends a dick pic)"

(Patton: 😨 REMUS, PLEASE DELETE. ❌️

Roman: THIS IS WHY WE NVR LET U IN GROUP CHATS !!!! I WISH I COULD WASH MY EYES OUT. 🤮

- Virgil has left the group chat -

Logan: Hello, Remus. That does not look very healthy. We should send you to a physician to get that checked out. Sincerely, Logan.

Janus: read 2:48 pm)

[3rrorsnas]

being in a system with so many people and so many switches and things being blurry so often is so fucking confusing and distressing so many times I'm tired it's awful I wanna fucking cry/hella srs neg

there's many times that I don't know who I am, persecutors or background voices making me doubt on so many things or amplifying my insecurities, echoing even the smallest of my thoughts to such an extent it's overwhelming. my guys (the ones who can create people) accidently (or sometimes not) creating or splitting people with the trigger of a simple thought in a millisecond, because someone thought of something. me not being able to watch shit or no show because one of my guys WILL introject someone from that multiverse, even on accident simply by thinking/saying/feeling "oh that person's cool!!". me hating and being disturbed by absolutely almost (probably all) every single one Undertale variant introjected/linked/spawned here. my guys accidently introjecting TWICE people that have wanted me dead and came close to killing me (and even if the tensions eased after a LOT of my guys came to front to have a deep talk with both of us the initial stress and straight up panic attacks were NOT worth it).

I've heard of people say they introject their loved ones from their sources/aus, and that it's good for their healing process from potential exo/origin memories. but no one freaking talks about your guys accidently introjecting your enemies from the simple hint of a thought of finding a situation interesting. ESPECIALLY BAD SITUATIONS. BECAUSE THESE MORONS SOMEHOW FIND ENTERTAINMENT IN BAD SITUATIONS??? yes I know they've told me most of the time the 'interest" they have in universes is from the will to help people, I've seen them try to be heroes and put themselves (or others/s srs neg) at risk from it, but this is STILL BAD FOR ME!!

I don't even know who the f-k I am, apparently I was connected to the body longer than I remember??? I have so many memories that haven't been registered as mine (because we have SUCH A WIDE MEMORY SHARING sometimes I don't eVEN KNOW WHICH MEMORIES ARE MINE) because I wasn't entirely sure who I was in the context of this multiverse and having to mask in front of other people and often obviously cofronting with my guys (so maybe my sense of identity was blended because of that?? I don't freaking know, interacting with this universe was weird back then/srs not specific neg- I don't freaking know anymore)

/srs neg fucking distressed

not even mentioning me having a huge period of indentity crisis and being scared I wasn't actually THE canon version of me in this anchor au cuz ahahaha of course I know I'm an anomaly but me being even WRONG in the context of BEING WRONG?! FUCK ME RIGHT?? THANK GOD IM ACTUALLY SOMEHOW ACCURATE TO WHAT CQ SHOWED OF ME, EVEN THOUGHT EVERY CREATOR IN THIS GODDAMN UNIVERSE PORTRAYS ME WRONG. AND LET'S NOT EVEN START WITH THE CLASSIC TIMELINE-

so after being scared of being mistaken of what the actual canon is, both for ME, AND the classic timeline (because the amount of VARIATIONS I've seen people make ON ACCIDENT is DISGUSTING)-

...I don't even know where I was going with this. I freaking blacked out. I give up. I'm posting this./srs gen neg

[treadmilltreats]

I love my home, I love my life

There is not a day that I don't walk in my front door that I don't say these words.

"I love my home, I love my life."

This weekend, as I was cleaning and getting ready for my company for Easter, again, I thought this. Every single time I come home, I feel this, and it never gets old, even though I've been here almost nine years. It is because I am still so grateful.

For so many years, as I would cry myself to sleep,

I would close my eyes and dream about what my home would look like and feel like when I finally had the courage to leave.

I would go through each room in my mind. I would picture the feel of the house, the furniture, and even the paintings on the walls. Yes, in vivid imagination.

Even when I didn't have the strength to leave my situation, I would buy things and hide them away. I would say, "This is for my new home, a home where I will be happy and at peace."

Sometimes, when things got really bad, I would sneak and pull out something from my future and hold it. I would close my eyes and picture myself there, and for that moment, I would be okay. It became my escape when he would scream at me that I was worthless or go on a tantrum, I would go to "my home" and envision how it was going to be. He would still be yelling, but I would be gone into my fantasyland. It was how I got through the last two years there.

I made vision boards, and I cut out pictures of furniture, lamps, and tables. I cut out the places I wanted to go, quotes I wanted to be like, sayings like strong, independent, and free. I put my vision board up in my laundry room so I could see it every day and know this was going to be my future.

When I finally got the courage to leave and found this townhome, I knew I was home. This was the place I've dreamt about. The first night there, surrounded by boxes, exhausted from the move, I sat on the floor and looked around and cried. I was finally free, here I was on my own, free at last! For so many years, I dreamt of this, and here I was, it was overwhelming.

After I unpacked, I went to yard sales and consignment shops every weekend. Little by little, I got it done, and it came out exactly as I envisioned it. It is light and airy with a beachy feel, it is warm and inviting and I love it more and more each day.

So today, my friends, I am telling you this because you might be in that dark space as well. Maybe you don't think you can do this on your own. Maybe he has told you you are worthless or you can never make it on your own.

I am here to tell you to keep dreaming, have a vision board, buy small things you want to start your new home with, and to dream, dream, dream....

Never stop believing! What you put out will come back to you. Envision the life you want, and it will be.

You can do it, you will do it! And one day you will write to me and say "I love my home" just as I do each and every day.

"Be the change you want to see"

@TreadmillTreats

And just when the caterpillar thought his life over...he turned into a beautiful butterfly"

**Now released my latest book**

The Blessing in Disguise.... revealed

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***Now available***

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[the-firebird69]

Any requested from Biden because I know that the people who are fighting him were not human not all human and I run into it myself and that they can't control themselves and that they were under orders the others and they were killed because they were not strong enough to think individually and it happens for a lot of things but mostly this recent activity and it happened on a lot of things with Mac and we can't control the warlock I admit it changes happening unfortunately for them this is a monument that we're represent that and the represent the fact that women could be soon be in the same position they're losing their bodies and the men are attaching their heads to them and it is a sad message but it represents a current crisis and if there's a lot more powerful than you think

Zues Hera

I like what he's saying and I get it and we're fighting them and it was horrible and we fought robots and I saw who say where at least I thought so and now I get it too and all those robots went down there and got creams real easily I've seen them fight a lot better than that now this happens to be our mission in life and we are going to see what it was but really I do believe it cuz I've done it and I found it on 90% of what's happening the 10% can't be blamed on cuz everything's going that way

President Biden he finally called me president he hasn't for a long time and now I see why

And I was speaking at first for crying out loud I do see what you're saying this is a powerful message to the clothes you can try and mess with us and twist us and ruin us and hurt us we might in fight and stuff but we know it's you

Stan

There's another day coming and this is the day and I wanted to be tomorrow and it says Monday for Christ's sake I guess that's a women's day kind of and is there a monument and it is about them a lot they get up on Monday and they start doing things and get people going and our friend said that last two or three lines it's absolutely true we're like almost the undead on Monday you're up for it too you want woman from The view there and all sorts of stuff Good morning America and we want to be another ceremony and we'll explain why and it is about this bike and it is about them and inside is great and this is kind of help and it is about foreigners fighting them too. And they say they can get a bunch of bikes together for Monday and we'd have to make it a certain time and we're going to try and do that and if we miss it we'll try and do it everyday until we get it in there we know it's not that easy these guys try it a lot and now I'm going to go to the mirror and I go to the governor and the president is approving it and he's sending it down to them and they're saying yes or no and it's going to go this thing yes the mirror is shaking our sunset my grand nephew I mean it's going to be fun okay this is the right thing to do

I'm bringing things for the other area the freedom center I get it now

Mac daddy

Wow this is awesome and we get why and someone saying we should put another monument in there for the women and maybe for the slane officer but he's not really slain, but it's a story and it's about the missing. And they have others so we have several and these are people and this is terrible and gross are we going to do it and we need people to submit artistry for it sketches ideas pictures of what you want to try to put in as a memorial for them it's going to be a permanent one

Paul sr

[ddarker-dreams]

Omg SR reader on her period. How the bucci gang takes care of her?😳

🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ TAKING OFF AT TOP SPEED TO ANSWER THIS

Warnings: Some mild not SFW implications, Reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!

[Scarlet Ribbons description]

Giorno

Your GioGio is excellent at reading between the lines and likely knows what you want before you even know what you want. His main concern is ensuring you’re content and as comfortable as you can be, he’ll stop at nothing to achieve this. Giorno knows you’re not helpless, but during this time, he tends to be somewhat more protective of you. Absolute zero tolerance for nonsense. Some pushy solicitor on the street keeps bothering you? He’ll wrap an arm around your shoulder and give them a stare so frigid even you can’t help but shiver. Tourists keep asking for directions? Giorno will either take over for you or come up with an excuse to whisk you away. He’s always an ideal gentleman, but he ramps it up when you’re on your period. You joke that he’s like a prince (a comment that actually manages to fluster him some). He’ll take your shoes off and massage your feet at the end of the day, dry your hair after you shower, bridal carry you to a warm bath if your muscles are sore... he wasn’t joking when he said you’d want for nothing if you gave him in the honor of accepting his affections. 

Bruno

Bruno becomes sweet enough to give you cavities. He actually really likes the thought of doting on you 24/7, but doesn’t want to come off as infantilizing, so this gives him the perfect excuse to really pull out all the stops. Anything work-related on your most difficult days he promises to see to himself so you can take it easy. He wakes up extra early each morning despite being worn out himself, cooking up your favorite foods and bringing you breakfast in bed. Should any carnal needs arise on your part he’s more than happy to sate them. The presence of blood is nothing to a mafioso, after all. He’ll never admit it, but there’s something nice and domestic about having you rely on him so heavily. If the two of you aren’t married yet, he’ll really feel like you’re husband and wife. You’re trusting him at your most vulnerable. It makes his heart soar just thinking about it. May or may not visit a jeweler while he’s out getting you some snacks to start eyeing different engagement rings... 

Fugo

Since you were both roomies for a while, he’s somewhat familiar with the affliction you endure when it’s that time of the month. Back then, he’d quietly do a few more chores, but never address it directly. Now that you’re in a romantic relationship, he tries to be more intentional. Fugo probably knows when you’re cycle is about to hit days in advance and asks if you have everything you need. While he normally enjoys engaging in dry banter with you, he tones it down so as not to accidentally upset you when you’re at your most emotionally sensitive. He’s at an absolute sputtering loss when you cry. He internally berates himself for not doing more, when in reality, you think he’s doing a great job of taking care of you. Your boyfriend sets unrealistically high expectations for himself in everything and settles for nothing less than perfection. Fugo gets disheartened when he considers another man may be treating you like a princess when being super affectionate is something he struggles with. Express some gratitude to him and he might actually get emotional. Now you’re crying, he’s crying (though he refuses to admit it), everyone’s crying...

Mista

Mista is chill about almost everything in life and that applies here. Absolutely the type to run to the store at 3am if you got hit with a random craving. He’s down for whatever would help you feel better, just tell him and he’s on it. Want to cuddle nonstop in your pajamas? His arms are already open and he’s telling you to come on over. Prefer having space? No problem, he’ll be in the next room over, ready to drop everything and amble over the second you ask. Even the Pistols, notorious for their snack-thieving ways, come together and form a pact until your period’s over. Then your snacks are fair game again. Normally, you both alternate choosing what movies/shows to watch. Mista releases this rule for now and will watch whatever you want without complaint. This is a privilege exclusive to you. 

Narancia

It’s actually you who is comforting him the first time you get your period while living together. You wake up to him acting like you’re a priest at a confessional booth, admitting to all the supposed wrongdoings he’s never told you about. He tells you he’s the one who ate you leftovers that one time, not Mista, and that dress you liked that mysteriously disappeared is because he got rid of it when people kept checking you out in public. Groggily, you have to calm him down and explain that you’re not dying despite all the blood. He almost passes out in shock when you tell him periods don’t go away until you’re like, 45 or something. Narancia was a few seconds shy of calling an ambulance. From that point on, he’s super sweet, asking if you need anything nonstop. Is even more grateful for your existence than usual after what he assumed to be a life-threatening scare. 

Abbacchio

Abbacchio tends not to take initiative, not for a lack of caring on his part, he just doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He figures if he wasn’t feeling well, the last thing he’d need was someone hovering over him nonstop. A lot more lowkey than the others. His love shines through in the small details — washing the sheets/blankets while you’re away so your bed is always clean and smelling nice, setting out painkillers for you every morning, offering to handle meal prep/cooking/cleanup. You both normally split chores, but he picks up your half without even needing to be asked. Abbacchio’s a big softie for you no matter what that prickly exterior portrays. He gets grumbly and flicks you on the forehead should you point this out to him, though he’s all bark and no bite. Calls you a “spoiled brat” then proceeds to tuck you into bed ten minutes later. The duality of a man. 

[charliedawn]

What if the Hannibal Fam had an SO who could sing really well? Like professional singing? Almost any song is something she can sing. She would love to sing to them. Lullabies are something she might ask to do.

Morgan was walking by when he heard someone sing.

He followed the sound and found you.

He stayed outside your room and closed his eyes, bathing in the softness of your voice.

Until he couldn't help himself and started singing with you.

You sang in harmony and when the song was over, you opened the door to find him standing there with a small smile.

"You have a beautiful voice, angel..I hope I'll get to hear it again."

You blushed at the compliment and he walked away, whistling the song you had just sang together.

Morgan—as the business man that he is—would turn your talent into profit.

He would become your manager and help you get your voice out there.

However, he would get exclusive on any of your new songs and even though he knows you're talented, he can't help but fall under your spell every time.

He'll be your number 1 fan.

He walked behind you and sat on a stool, listening and smiling as he saw you dance a little with the music.

When you turned around and saw him sitting there, you smiled but still scolded him playfully.

"Well, aren't you the little creep ? Stalking people now, are we ?"

He smiled at your taunting and chuckled before leaning forward and taking your hand.

"You just walked right past me, I couldn't possibly not be a creep about it."

He then unexpectedly pulled you on his lap and wrapped his arms around you.

"Besides, I like to hear you..Could you sing again for me ? Please ?"

You smiled to yourself as he pressed you a little closer as you started singing and rested his forehead against your shoulder.

Your voice soothes Kevin. He would never admit it, but you light up his day every time he hears you.

Hannibal Sr. used to feel lonely, alone in his cell with only cockroaches to keep him company.

However, the guards then gave him a new cell neighbor: you.

He didn't think much of you at first, you were just a wee thing who had only a few months to spend in prison.

Not really note worthy, until he heard you sing for the first time.

He thought an angel had decided to grace him of their presence, until he realized the only angel that would ever come to visit him in prison him would be the angel of death.

He followed the sound and his eyes then landed on you.

When you stopped singing and your eyes met, you were surprised and immediately cowered under his very piercing gaze—missing the way his lips curled up into a smile.

He memorized your features—carving them into his mind.

He became obsessed on the spot. He almost fell sorry for you poor thing..You didn't even suspect a thing.

He had something to look forward to when he would make his escape at least..assist to your first and maybe only representation.

"Lovely..Simply breath-taking.."

Hannibal Jr. is not one to cry easily, but your songs would be enough to bring tears to his eyes.

If there is something that brings more joy to Hannibal Jr. than his family, it's art.

He always been sensitive to art, anything related to aesthetic and even more importantly, music.

Singing not being one of his many talents, he would be more than happy to hear you.

His favorite thing is when you are both sitting next to each other and he can see your face when you sing, because your expressions are just fascinating to him.

The way your throat moves when you reach higher notes, how your eyes flutter shut when you are so focused the world around you disappears, the way your mouth moves and your hands curl in your dress/pants..He would never get bored of watching you.

Peter would always ask you to sing for him before sleeping, it helps him relax and makes him sleep better.

Your voice having the effect of a dream catcher for him. He can sleep without nightmares bothering him and feels safe next to you.

He would love your voice and ask you to sing for him every time he's got the chance.

"You're amazing. I can't believe you even exist and that one day, I'll wake up and you'll be gone. But then, I open n'y eyes and you're there. Do you even know how happy I feel when I hear you ? I don't want you to ever stop.."

Peter has trust issues, but knowing that you will be there, that you're helping him and singing for him, making sure he sleeps well every night.

It warms his heart and makes him believe that everything is possible.

You bring him hope.

[inkribbon796]

Egotober 2022 Day 22: Not the Same

Summary: Dark has many problems, most of them start with Damien.

A/N: WARNING! For child endangerment and a child being buried alive. Along with childhood panic attacks.

I didn’t intend for this to get bad, but it did.

Prompt: Bury/Buried

Characters: Damien (baby Dark)

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

~::~ Late 1800’s ~::~

Damien’s life was over the day he turned six.

Magic was in his family. It coursed through every member of his family, living or dead. His father had helped to lead an organization that defeated and slayed demons. They protected people, and his twin sister was proving to be just as magically proficient as their father.

Damien was not. Celine’s magic started to kick in when she was four, and Damien was still waiting for his magic to come in.

Eagerly waiting. Desperately waiting.

He saw how much their father doted on Celine. She got endlessly praised at her still immature magic, and Damien saw none of that. Clyde Doom thought the world of Celine.

Damien was in his room, playing with blocks on the ground as the nanny tidied up the room of his clothes.

Then his father walked in. “Damien.”

The small boy immediately dropped his block to look at the demon hunter. “Dad?”

“Come here, Damien, I want to show you something,” Clyde said.

Excited, Damien sprung up and left his blocks as his father began leading him outside.

“What is it?” Damien asked.

“A very special surprise,” the man promised as they walked out to the yard outside where his father’s friend, and the father of Damien’s best friend in the whole wide world, was.

The was standing next to a freshly dug hole in the ground with a large box set about three inches down from the surface.

Clyde brought his son right up to it and Damien couldn’t see anything other than an empty open box.

“What’s—” Damien asked before his father grabbed him under the arm and using his magic he tossed Damien into the box.

The small boy screamed as William Barnum Sr. used his magic to throw the lid onto it and shut Damien in the darkness of a closed child-sized coffin.

The adults above him were still talking, but Damien was too busy having his first panic attack to pay attention to what they were saying.

“Cylde, your son has to be the stupidest kid I’ve ever seen,” Barnum Sr. said.

“Put the dirt back on,” Clyde said instead of an answer.

“Shit, really? We’re going all the way with this?” Barnum asked.

“It has to be real, his magic will manifest under stress.”

There was silence as Damien was screaming and crying, banging and clawing at the wood. He was screaming for his father.

Barnum Sr. shrugged after a second or two and then used his magic to lightly cover the box. Then he summoned a shovel to lightly tap on the lid of the box. All it served to do was terrify the small child even more.

After a couple seconds, Clyde shouted over his son’s screams. “I know you have it in you! You have to. If you want out then you have to use magic to get out.”

Barnum Sr. had the shovel resting on the box. “Clyde.”

“No!” He shouted back at him.

Barnum Sr. pulled out his pocket watch, and just started counting down.

A minute and half passed as the screams began to get quieter, and the instant that Barnum couldn’t hear Damien screaming he immediately used his magic to pull the dirt and the lid off the box.

“He almost had it!” Damien’s father shouted as Barnum Sr. was pulling a gasping and sobbing Damien out.

“No he didn’t,” Barnum Sr. was looking at Damien, trying to find any residual hint of magic. But he couldn’t find anything, not a single trace of magic on the kid.

“He was,” Clyde denied. “He has to.”

“He won’t,” Barnum Sr. said as Damien was clinging to him, shaking in fear.

Clyde went silent and he just stared at Damien. Damien looked in his eyes and the child shied away fearfully for the first time in his life.

The boy had looked to his father for comfort and safety but only saw cold rage in the man’s eyes. A rage he’d never seen before.

“He should have been able to get out,” Barnum Sr. said, trying to pry his shirt sleeve away from Damien’s grip which seemed to distress the boy even more. A plea for comfort that was not soothed.

Clyde called for the nanny and handed Damien over to her. She took one look at the hole and the small coffin in the ground and nervously looked back at her employer.

“You’re filthy, you need a bath,” Clyde said, as if that had been Damien’s fault. Damien’s father grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away and almost threw him at the nanny. “Get him cleaned up before dinner. I’ll be in my study.”

“Y-Yes, Sir,” she said, noticing how tightly Damien was clinging to her.

She was able to gently lead Damien away and get him ready for a bath. Damien would hate getting toweled off, and begin screaming and thrashing when the cloth was pressed against his face. It would be a problem he would suffer from for years.

As Damien was being calmed, Clyde and Barnum Sr. had retreated to the study where Clyde was already starting to drink and light up cigars. The mess in the yard was already being taken care of.

“And here I thought he was just a late bloomer,” Clyde said, watching the ice tumblr around in his glass. “This is so much worse.”

“I guess Celine took all of it,” William Sr. said. “At least Junior is capable.”

“All he had to do was shift some rubble, if he couldn’t get out, all he had to do was move the dirt and we would have been fine.” Clyde glared at the glass.

“So what now?” Barnum Sr. asked, looking at his own glass.

Clyde took another couple long sips before getting up and turning towards a large cabinet. He opened it and pulled down a small table as he started grabbing vials and materials to begin mixing a potion. He was meticulously making sure the ingredients he was mixing would yield the right potion.

“We work with what we’re given,” Clyde said as he let the potion sit and ferment. He would lock down the magic after a month so it wouldn’t turn into a poison. His target would take the first dose in a month, and his second in about ten years.

Clyde labeled the potion with various symbols. “And the fates have only set me one magical child, unfortunately.”

Barnum Sr. continued drinking and smoking as the potion settled. In about an hour he would leave and head back home and dinner that night would be awkward.

[lonely-eli]

Trippin' On Hallucinogenics - Chapter 2

They couldn’t just apparate to King’s Cross Station because of how many muggles were around, so they got a driver. Barty didn’t trust him, he was short and plump, and thought that they were putting their lives into the hands of someone who likely wouldn’t be able to see over the wheel. But Barty’s mother did not share these concerns, so they stuffed all of Barty’s things into the back, excluding a ferret, and went on their way. Barty sprawled in the backseat almost immediately, while his mother spoke with their driver.

“Going to school eh?” he said, looking in the mirror. He didn’t seem to mind that Barty was horizontal.

“Yep,” Barty responded.

“Hogwarts?”

“Sure.”

“Yes, he’s going to Hogwarts,” his mother said, throwing Barty a glare. Barty smiled and laid his head back down.

“Ah, a good school! My sister went to Hogwarts. A Ravenclaw through and through.”

Barty and his mother awkwardly stared when the driver burst into the school song.

“HOGWARTS, HOGWARTS, HOGGY WARTY HOGWARTS,” sang the driver.

“You got this!” Barty said sarcastically. The driver went quiet. Then finally pulled up to King’s Cross. The driver got all of his things and put them into a cart.

“Bye,” the driver said tersely. Barty grinned at him as they walked away.

“Why do you have to be rude?” his mother chided as soon as they were out of ear shot. Barty frowned and continued to push the cart.

“I was trying to help,” Barty started.

“No, don't give me any of that, Bartemius Crouch Jr..”

“Really I was—”

They stood between platforms nine and ten, the wall that Barty was supposed to ram head first into was in front of them.

“You’ll go first,” Barty’s mother told him, “Make sure to get a running star—”

But Barty was already gone and running full speed into the wall. If it closed and he hurt himself then it closed and he hurt himself. But that didn’t happen, instead he felt a sudden rush of cold before he was standing on Platform 9 3/4 , there were so many kids about

Barty saw some families that he recognized. A flash of red hair that must be the Weasley’s, the Black family, and the Rosiers. Evan and Pandora were standing with their father and mother, who were hugging them and saying something that probably went along the lines of “Blah Blah Blah We love you so much Blah Blah Blah I hope Barty is jealous”. 

Barty’s mother grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in tight, reminding him that his father wasn’t here, and would never be here.

Barty looked nervously to the entrance, worried that he had summoned Bartemius Crouch Sr. just by thinking about it, but he hadn’t thankfully.

“I love you, you’ll do great, be yourself.”

“I know, mother.” Barty replied, “I love you too.”

She pulled him in for another hug then released him, “Now go get on the train. And don’t be rude to anyone!”

“You said be yourself!”

“Within limits! Reasonable limits!”

“Mother, you hurt me!”

“Good,” she said, “Now go on. Love you!”

“Love you too,” Barty said as he walked onto the train, he glanced behind him and saw that his mother had turned around and walked slightly away. Her shoulders were shaking in the telltale sign that she was crying. Barty felt a rush of anxiety as he realized that he was truly leaving her, on her own, for most of the year. He knew she could handle his father, she had too. For him.

The train was filled with people that he didn’t know. He saw one of the Black boys open a car and be swept into a hug by a boy with glasses. He found the Rosiers in a car by themself, Pandora was reading a book upside down.

“How are you reading that,” Barty asked.

“Oh!” Pandora startled, Barty had forgotten how singsong her voice was, “The cover is wrong.”

“What?”

She showed him the book which had its writing right side up.

“The cover is wrong,” she repeated.

“I see,” Barty said.

“Anyway, it’s so good to see you again, Bartemius!” Pandora said, giving him a tight hug. Barty returned it.

“My friends call me Barty.”

Evan snorted, “Barty Crouch Jr. isn’t much better, sounds like you’d be an old man in a nursing home.”

“Okay, Evan Rosier,” Barty realized after that Evan's name was pretty great. He and Evan both smiled as they came to the same conclusion that Barty Crouch Jr. was horrible.

Pandora flicked her hair, “Come on Evan, don’t be a grouch.”

“Yeah, come on Evan,” Barty copied. Pandora grabbed Barty and sat him down next to Evan.

“Sorry about my brother, I think Barty is a great name.”

She took out her wand and thwacked it against her palm in thought while staring at him. She looked spaced out, and had gotten like that pretty quickly, it made Barty nervous.

“Why’s your book cover wrong?” Barty asked.

Pandora shrugged and leaned back, “I don’t know I gue—”

The door opened and one of the Black boys stood there. He had short curly black hair, and a frown on his face when he saw the twins and Barty as if they were invading his space. 

“Hello!” Pandora sang.

“Hi,” Barty said.

Evan grunted.

“I thought that this car was empty,” he told them. “Well it’s not—” Evan started to say something but Pandora slapped a hand over his mouth. He licked her hand and she let it drop with a glare.

“I’m Pandora,” Pandora said.

“I know,” the kid glanced between the three of them then said softly, “Regulus Black.”

“Are you just going to– mfph!” Evan was interrupted yet again by Pandora smacking a hand over his mouth.

“Well, Regulus, come sit down,” Barty said, patting the seat next to him. His father had told him not to talk with Blacks, but that rule had already been practically broken when Barty had befriended the Rosier’s.

“Who are you? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Barty Crouch at your service,” Barty said, getting up to bow, “The one and only.”

Evan laughed which made Barty smile and add a twirl to his bow.

Regulus seemed put off, but still walked into the car and sat down. Barty flopped down next to him. Regulus pulled out a book and started to read it.

“What house do you want, Barty?” Pandora asked.

“Yeah, Crouch,” Evan said.

“Probably Ravenclaw,” Barty sighed, then he stopped and smiled, “But Slytherin sounds cool as… hell.”

“I’m going to be Slytherin,” whispered Regulus, “Most Blacks are.”

“Except your brother, right Regulus?” Pandora said, sounding genuine.

“My traitor brother, who befriended a Potter.”

“You seem like a lot of fun,” Evan said deadpan, he started to play with his wand.

Barty looked at Regulus and saw that the boy didn’t have any passion behind the words. He looked quite tired actually. Barty recognized the look from the days spent staring in the mirror.

“Well, Rosier—” Barty put the same tone behind the name as Evan had, “What’s your answer then?”

“Easy. Slytherin,” Evan replied, then he shrugged, “Who knows, we might be roommates, Black.”

Regulus sighed like this was the worst thing he’s ever heard. Then dug his head back into his book. Evan also fell into silence, jumping in to add comments to Pandora and Barty’s conversation before zoning out again or sleeping. Barty and Pandora talked the entire time, at some point the conversation became about spells, then it became about the type of wands that they both had and what it meant. Then it became about Pandora’s pet spider about home.

“I do worry about him.”

“I don’t, that fucking things a bastard,” responded Evan. He seemed terrified by the idea of messing with the spider again.

Finally, the train arrived at Hogwarts.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Legally Yours - Ch. 07

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester tops the list of hottest entrepreneurs 2020 and yet, there’s still something he wants but can’t have because, in order to get that, he would have to settle down and get married. She agrees too quickly because she wants to secure a more comfortable life for her and her daughter. Will she be able to help Dean get what he wants without losing herself in the fake story they spin up to deceive his father and the world?

Chapter Warnings: A little nerves, a little fluff, a little angst at the dinner

WC: 4225

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Y/N’s mouth opens and closes in quick succession.

She keeps on shaking her head, “I’m sorry, I think I must have not heard right,” She starts to chuckle but it’s not a good chuckle, it comes out more drily, like she tries to override her confusion with it, and Dean cocks an eyebrow, thinks she’s adorable how she keeps shaking her head. “I thought you said that if this should blow up because of me that I’d have to marry you,”

“That’s exactly what I said,” His voice is steady because he really means it.

“Oh no,” She shakes her head again, continues to look at him puzzled, “You can’t be serious,”

“I’m dead serious,”

“Dean, you don’t even know what you’re saying,” She looks around the hallway, looks up at the ceiling, as if she’s trying to spot a damn camera. 

“Hey, Y/N, look at me,” Dean waits until her gaze is back on him and then he stares her down, “Sweetheart, do I look like I’m joking?”

She narrows her eyes as she looks at him, and Dean notices that she tries to see in his eyes if he’s joking. He can tell that she’s trying to read something. Fucking anything. But she can’t. They never can. Maybe she’ll get it, she never will. He’s hard to read, is not really an open book. He doesn’t think there’s anyone out there in this world who can read him and that’s because Dean wants it that way. He has built up his business persona, has shaped himself to be unreadable, unpredictable even. It works to his advantage.

Her eyes go back to their usual size, but there’s a frown between her eyebrows, “Give me one good reason why you would want that?” 

Dean reaches out his hand, grazes her cheek with his knuckles before he moves his thumb up, rubs gently in between her eyebrows with it to ease the frown. 

“I think,” He starts to say and pauses to clear his throat, using the time to think his words thoroughly. His thumb leaves her again, pulls his hand back and sticks it back into his pants pockets. He only realizes it now that he’s been touching her. Has been touching her more than he probably should. In private. After he composes himself, he starts to speak again, “The most important reason is, that eventually, I will have to get married anyway. I should keep up our arrangement, it just seems easier.”

It’s not bad for him, who’s a businessman, to want to stick to a deal that’s already going on when both parties benefit from it, right? Right. But somehow there’s a feeling in his gut that tells him that what he just said was wrong.

The frowns back and she looks at him like she doubts him and there’s something he can detect in her eyes that he can’t quite put his finger on. Was it disappointment? 

He quickly tries to save the mood. 

“But don’t worry,” Dean chuckles and looks down at her, pulling his chin to his chest. It’s most definitely not his best angle, most definitely he doesn’t look like the hottest entrepreneur 2020 like this. But hey, she’s stuck with him now and he’s stuck with her. Time to get accustomed to the side that’s not always rainbows and cupcakes, and somehow it works because the frown’s gone. “It’ll only happen if you lose,” 

Y/N snorts. She’s trying her best to keep her cool he guesses, and she crosses her arms over her chest. It prompts her tits to be squished and they almost spill out of because of the wide cleavage. Dean knows he shouldn’t but it’s almost impossible. So, he does what every man would be doing, he risks a glance, hopes she doesn’t notice. 

But she does. Because he knows by the way the corner of her lips curve up that she must have noticed him staring. And it’s like she’s taunting him because she presses her arms together some more as she starts to grin. It’s all cocky and fuck, he’d never thought he’d see a cocky smile on a girl that matches his. 

“Fine, just don’t come crying when you have to fork over a new apartment, loverboy,” She ends up smiling satisfactorily, it’s almost too cute.

Dean chuckles again, “That only happens when I lose, sweetheart,” And then he leans closer, brushes his lips against the shell of her ear to whisper to her. It could be his imagination, but she’s shivering. From up close he can smell her perfume, and he absolutely loves the scent on her. Dean keeps his voice  low when he speaks, “And I never lose, baby,”

Standing back, Dean holds out a hand out for her to shake. Y/N does, with a narrowing of her eyes, grips his hand just a little tighter to tell him silently, that’s she’s not a loser as well. 

He likes that. Likes how she absolutely is down to compete. 

“Got yourself a deal there,” Dean nods and instead of letting go of her hand, he holds it tighter, keeps it in his as he pulls her along the hallway and into the dining room.

 *

As he pulls a chair out for her to sit on, the doorbell rings. Dean should have known, his dad’s never late.

“Dean,” She whispers.

“What?”

“Why is there so much silverware?”

He laughs. Full on.

She elbows him in the ribs because the footsteps of his father and the maid are coming closer. 

“Seriously, which ones do I choose?” Y/N hisses.

His father is already in the room and comes closer, so Dean leans over to her, whispers into her ear, “Work your way from the outside in. They are placed in the order of use. It’s not hard,” 

“‘K,” 

She nods, but the frowns still there so Dean reaches under the table, lays his hand on her thigh, squeezes reassuringly and she wants to stand up and greet his dad, but Dean holds her down, thumb drawing circles on her skin, “Stay,”

They aren’t formal. His father usually sits down to eat because that’s what he came here for. It’s not a fucking social party. There are no eyes on them and John Winchester doesn’t go out of his way to impress anyone when the press is not around.

And as Dean predicted, his father sits down before he even greets them.

“Y/N, Dean,” There’s a courtesy nod.

  Dean and his dad hold small talk and it isn’t two minutes later that the maid brings in their first course. 

While she was getting dressed, the chef sent the maid around to ask her if there’s something she doesn’t like or if there’s something she is allergic to and Y/N guesses that they are pretty happy that she could literally eat anything. She grew up not having too much food around so food in general gets her excited and she loves to try new things.

When the maid sets their entrees in front of them, Dean’s hand leaves her thigh, and she doesn't even notice that he’s been touching her the whole time. Is it weird that it felt natural to her? Somehow, she has the feeling that it doesn’t seem that he noticed it either because Dean just pulls his hand from her thigh and starts to dig into his food like it’s no big deal.

Maybe it isn’t. Maybe, she thinks, he really enjoys touching her to feel close to her and that’s a good start, right? At least he doesn’t look as troubled as he usually is around her.

It’s chicken truffles terrine on a salad bouquet and god, the terrine melts on her tongue and there’s an explosion of tastes going on in her mouth. 

She hums her approval after the first bite, which prompts Mr. Winchester Sr. to smirk at her. 

The conversation is kept light during the first course, maybe Dean nor his father wanting to spoil their appetite. And she keeps herself mum, too afraid she would start to bubble nonsense because she’s still so damn nervous.

“Sauntéed Dover with Almond and Soy-Lime emulsion,” The maid said as she brought out the main course and honestly, Y/N doesn’t understand any of it but hell, if it’s as good as the entrée, they should keep bridging them out.

Before she could dig her fork into the glorious fish, though, John Winchester clears his throat to speak. 

“So, Y/N, I heard you are working in our company?”

Her heart starts to race and there’s that sweaty hand again. 

She pulls herself together and looks at Mr. Winchester Sr. tries to meet his eyes because she doesn’t want to seem like she’s incapable of answering a damn simple question. 

“Sir, yes. In fact, I met Dean there,”

The fact that she held his eye contact works, because John nods, before he takes the fork and digs into his meal. The relief she feels when John doesn’t ask more questions is vast. 

She takes a bite of the fish herself and it falls apart as soon as the fork touches it. Her mouth starts to water before she pushes the forkful of fish into her mouth and she isn’t disappointed because god, that explosion of taste is back and the fish melts on her tongue. 

Humming out loud, she closes her eyes, savoring the fish and the taste of the soy-lime sauce. 

Dean chuckles next to her when he hears it, and his hand is back on her thigh, squeezing it in what she hopes is approval. 

When she opens her eyes, she sees John watching them, but there’s a smirk on the older man’s lips. 

“It’s good to see a woman with an appetite,” He says.

“I’m sorry,” Her face feels flush, “I just get very excited about good food,”

Dean’s hand squeezes her thigh again, as if he wants to say that it’s okay. 

His father is watching them, though. She realizes as she looks back to the old man and he still hasn’t budged. That’s when she knows that he’s watching if they are real. 

Y/N leans closer to Dean, lets her hand trail up his muscled back, her fingers threading through the short hair at the nape of his neck and the color in Dean’s cheek rises up. His ears are tinted pink. She clearly affects him. She just doesn’t know if it’s good or bad. 

Before she can move closer, Dean almost winds himself out of her grip, and his hand that’s on her thigh goes behind him, plukes her hand away from his neck to hold it in his palm. 

“Are you okay?” She whispers, doesn’t want to be too loud, even though his father has seen everything already. Clearly, he’s not okay, but she just doesn’t know what it is. Does her touching him hurt him so much? Why do they keep doing it then? 

Dean catches himself, places a kiss on the back of her hand before he moves closer to kiss her cheek. He stops short, to whisper in her ear, “No, I think I’m in trouble,”

His lips lingering close to her ear, sending shivers down her spine. What does he mean he’s in trouble? How? What? 

Before she can wrap her head around what Dean just said, John clears his throat to speak.

“Y/N, what do you think about my son’s prenup?”

If John thinks he caught her by surprise, he really did. 

“Uh,” She starts to say, stammers as her mouth tries to form words. Of course, Dean Winchester would have a prenup. Sam mentioned that Carmen was ready to sign that thing. It’s not a secret that wealthy men have prenups, right? 

“He hadn’t shown you the prenup yet, did he?” John’s lips are crooked into a cocky grin. 

And it’s then that Dean turns to her and lays his hand back on her thigh, “I didn’t show it to you because we won’t have a prenup,” His voice is soft, gentle while his eyes are on her, as if he wants to make sure that she hears him. 

“You what?” Mr. Winchester Sr. asks loudly.

Dean’s eyes leave hers as he tilts his head back to meet his dad’s gaze. “I won’t have a prenup with her, Dad,” His voice is louder this time, firm, as if he is putting his foot down.

“Dean, I—,”

“—No, I know exactly what you want to say. Fact is, it’s my marriage, and my life. You have no say in this. I trust Y/N. We don’t need it and that’s my final word.” He’s even louder, getting all worked up and it’s her turn to lay her hand on his thigh to calm him down. 

He flinches at her touch, just a little, but she notices it nonetheless. And she gets a bit discouraged. Why does he bother holding a speech with not getting a prenup when he flinches at her touches? She doesn’t fucking get it.

John Winchester stands up abruptly and buttons up his suit jacket, “Well, it was nice, but I have another dinner meeting to attend,” He says as he nods to Dean and her, “Dean, I’ll see you at the event, and Y/N, it was nice meeting the woman who manages to enchant my son enough for him not being able to think straight.”

The man walks over to the door, stalls and looks back, “I will get Sam to talk some sense into you, and I hope next time I see you, you’ll have changed your mind.” He says, completely ignoring her presence.

“Wow,” She huffs out as soon as the apartment door shuts close. 

“Yeah,” Dean snorts, “That’s my father for you.”

She wonders if she should bring up the prenup, but decides against it. It’s not like they’re going to get married anyway, right? Surely, Dean’s legal team will be able to find a solution before they have to go that far and she certainly will not lose the bet they have running.

Returning to her meal, she forks the fish into her mouth, groans loudly this time because the old grumpy Mr. Winchester is gone and Dean sets his fork to the side and braces his elbow on the table. He turns his body a little, tilts his head and lays it on the hand of the arm that’s on the table as he continues to watch her eat with a grin on his face.

“You really like the fish, huh?”

“God,” She exclaims, “The food here is excellent,” 

“I’ll pass your compliment to the chef,” 

“I hope me gaining weight is not in the contract because I think there’s a big chance it will happen if I get fed delicious meals,” Y/N smiles at him with her mouth around the fork. 

“It isn’t,” Dean replies and it seems like he really enjoys her enthusiasm.

He hasn’t touched his food, but he’s waiting patiently for her to finish hers. As soon as she does, he gets up and holds out a hand for her to take, “C’mon, we’re taking the dessert in my study.”

“In your study?” 

“Yeah,” Dean grins as he leads her out, “I would have suggested having taken it on the terrace, but it’s too chilly and you’re barely wearing anything. The next best view in this penthouse is from the study window.”

He leads her inside and he’s not really wrong. Now that it’s dark out, the city below them is lit up by a million lights. 

“Is that why it’s your study? Because you spend your nights here often and you wanted a good view?”

Dean hasn’t turned on the light in the room, but there’s enough light coming in from the window that she can see his cheek turning pink, “Maybe,” He shrugs.

Thinking that it’s probably something he doesn’t want to talk about, she makes her way to the couch right by the window, takes off her shoes and curls her legs on the sofa. 

The maid comes in to bring them the dessert and a refill of her wine glass. It’s a really good wine, she can’t lie. It makes her feel woozy in the best kind of way and she can’t stop wanting more, even if her head’s already swimming a little. 

Y/N looks back to see Dean pouring himself a couple of fingers of whiskey before he takes off his suit jacket. He didn’t bother wearing a tie to the dinner. He opens up another button, and it makes him look more relaxed. He sets his glass on to the tray and balances the items over to set it down on the little table next to the couch.

He hands her the plate with what she assumes is something chocolatey. 

Digging her silver spoon into it, she takes a bite, hums and groans as the flavor hits her taste buds. It’s dark chocolate, which normally she doesn’t really like that much, but it’s spiked with something she can’t put her finger on but it’s fucking delicious. 

“Oh my god,” She moans, “It’s so good,”

“I can tell,” He chuckles as he watches her eat.

“Wait,” She pauses her devouring and raises her eyebrows at him. Dean’s only been holding his tumbler and a glance over to the tray, she can see that there isn’t any dessert on it for him, “You’re not having dessert?”

“Nah,” He says, “I’m not much of a dessert guy,”

“What?”

“Yeah,” He exhales, “I’m not much of a fancy dishes kinda guy anyway, but it’s hard if you grew up like that,”

“So, you’re telling me that you’d rather eat something simple than those magnificent dishes your chef creates?”

“Yep,”

“You’re weird,” 

“I know,” He chuckles, “But I’m glad you enjoy it. I’m sure the chef is delighted to have someone to cook for either,”

Y/N takes another spoonful, moaning and closing her eyes again and Dean shifts next to her. When she opens her eyes back up, he’s watching her with a smile on his face.

“Seriously, you’ve got to try this!” She digs into the mousse again and scoops up enough to hold it over to Dean. 

“Oh, no, I—,” He starts to say.

“Please? For me? You’ve got taste it,”

And she’s kind of pestering him, the spoon already brushing at his lips. 

“Come on,” She nudges the spoon to his lips, “I can’t be the only one to enjoy this tonight,” 

Dean rolls his eyes and sighs, but there’s a hint of a smirk playing along his lips, “Fine,” 

He opens his mouth and she pushes the spoon in. Dean's lips seal around the small silverware, and she pulls it out while his eyes are on hers. 

She feels flush, feels hot all of a sudden. It might have been more intimate than she thought it would be.

“And?” She asks and Dean nods his head.

“It’s good,”

“It’s good?” She frowns, “It’s fucking amazing!” 

He smiles.

 *

 After she devoured her dessert they stayed on the sofa and she emptied her glass of wine. And it’s not like she had planned it, but the wine makes her limbs feel heavy and her head light, and somehow, she ends up closer to Dean, laying her head on his shoulder.  

He lets her.

“You know, you did good tonight,” Dean says. She can feel his voice vibrating from his body. 

“Why thank you,” Y/N chuckles, “I’ll take that,”

“You should,” 

He nudges his shoulder up, making her lift her head and Dean takes the opportunity to drape his arm over the back of the couch so that it’ll be more comfortable for her. She doesn’t hesitate to curl herself into his side. She’s overly clingy when she drinks and she hopes he doesn’t mind.

While she looks out of the window, the lights blend into each other. 

“You know, I was wondering,” She starts to say and she doesn’t even know why she says it. It must be the wine speaking, “Have you ever had sex against the window in the dark?”

She can feel his body stiffen significantly. Dean inhales before he lets out an exhale with a chuckle, “How many glasses of wine did you have?”

“Eh, not much,”

“It seems to me like you’re a little tipsy,”

“Ugh, I am not,”

That’s a lie. She’s definitely tipsy. Maybe bordering on being drunk. She’s such a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, it’s a little embarrassing. 

“Right,” He’s still chuckling, “Thank you, by the way,”

Ah, he’s trying to steer the conversation away from the sex. She’s a little disappointed but well, if he doesn’t want to talk about something that’s fine. So, instead of pestering him, she asks, “Thank you for what?”

“For playing it so well. I really believed you liked me.” 

“Dean,” She pauses to look up at him, “I do like you.” 

“Yeah?”

Y/N lays her head back on his chest, “Yeah, you’re not a bad man, Dean. You certainly went out of your way to make it comfortable for my little family.”

“It’s the least I could have done considering you guys are giving up your life to help me out,”

“That counts as something in my book. And you know what?”

“What?”

She chuckles, “You’re funny,”

“I am?”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re even trying to be but you are. The way you’re always grumpy, it’s kind of funny, to be honest,”

“Hey,” He protests, but he’s chuckling himself. 

“I like spending time with you,” 

“That’s good because I like spending time with you, too,” He says and his hand comes down from the edge of the couch to stroke along her arm. 

They stay like that for a while, both of them staring out the window wordlessly. She enjoys the silence with him, and she desperately tries not to think about him pressing her against the window and fucking her to the backdrop of the city lights. Nope. Totally not on her mind.

It’s when she feels her eyelids getting heavy that she pushes herself away from Dean and maybe she just imagines it, but there’s a subtle whine that comes out of this throat. He catches himself pretty quickly, though. 

“I’m going to bed,” Y/N says and stands up, feels his eyes on her when she rights her dress, “Unless you need me to be your fake fiancée longer,”

Dean smiles as he shakes his head, “No, I’m alright. Have a good night, Y/N. Sam will send you your schedule over,”

“‘K,” She nods, “Good night, Dean,”

 *

 Before she goes into her room, she checks in on Liv, sees the girl sleeping soundly. With a smile, she closes the door to her daughter’s room and makes her way to her own. 

There, she strips off her dress and gets herself ready for bed.

While she lays in bed, though, she can’t help but think about her weird day. If she’d tell Donna, the woman would think that she’s having a fever dream. 

Oh god, Donna.

Y/N grabs at her phone on the nightstand, looks at it for the first time after she has ditched it to go to dinner with Dean’s dad. 

There have been missed calls and texts from Donna, asking her when she’d be back or if she has been fired already because Y/N didn’t return.

Quickly she types in a message, maybe Donna’s asleep already anyway. 

 Y/N: You won’t believe what happened

Donna: OH THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE

Y/N: Shouldn’t you be sleeping?

Donna: I was worried out of my mind

Y/N: What happened after I made my way to the top floor?

Donna: Oh god, you should have seen Raphael. He had to pack his things right away, but he was screaming and thrashing around, refusing to leave so they had to bring in security and had him thrown out of the building.

Y/N: Wow

 Wow, indeed. Dean really fired him. On the fucking spot.

 Donna: The big boss believed you, right?

 She has to chuckle as she types in her next reply.

 Y/N: Well, he has to because I’m his fiancée. He proposed to me in his office.

 It’s a lie, but she has to keep up the illusion, doesn’t she? It’s best if Donna knows it, but only so much to feed into the illusion. She guesses she can explain it later when this will all be over. 

 Donna: WHAT THE FUCK 

Donna: WHAT HAPPENED OH MY GOD TELL ME EVERYTHING

 She can’t help but laugh. 

 Y/N: I’m pretty tired, but let’s just say, I’ll let you know as soon as I can alright? Thought you’d like to know that Dean and I are an item now and that you’ll probably see my face in those glamour magazines.

Donna: FUCK I’M SO JEALOUS

Y/N: Right, I gotta get some shut eye, I’ll be in contact, Donna. Love you

Donna: I love you too, Y/N, even though I’m fucking jealous.

 Still laughing, she places her phone back on the nightstand and curls herself into the soft pillows and comforter and it’s not long before she drifts into sleep.

Ch. 08

A/N: Thank you for reading until now. Your comments make my day. Buckle your seatsbelts. From now on it’s going to be a whirlwind of events and feelings! Hint: We’ll see Dean and Liv’s interaction in the next chapter!

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.