#which as someone who masks fucking CONSTANTLY was a very rare thing for me to do

[aztrosist666]

i was recently at the new england aquarium in boston and it made me realize just how spoiled growing up with the georgia aquarium so close by has made me. my family and i walked around the whole place in about 45 mins while the georgia aquarium is so massive it takes at least two hours for a good thorough tour. also the whale shark is my favorite fish and the georgia aquarium has a live one!!!! it’s so fucking cool and massive and i’m so autistic over them seriously!!! oh my god!!!!!!! but the new england ‘big tank’ is about a fifth of the size of georgias so obviously no room for a whale shark. the building was just so small that even on their to-scale wall of different sharks and their silhouettes they didn’t have a whale shark because there just wasn’t enough room on the wall at all. moral of the story god i fucking love whale sharks so much

[fierceawakening]

Another weird thing about the difference between the way Tumblr posts supposedly by narcissistic people and YT vide about “why’d that mean person act that way? Well if they’re narcissistic, it might be x” is

The tumblr posts very rarely talk about image, where the analysis YouTubes do a lot.

According to the YouTubes, people who are narcissistic are VERY invested in how things look. The classic idea is someone who wants to be fawned over, like a celebrity or a cult leader, but… like the stuff where I’m thinking it resonates about my mom is…

It’s not that she saw herself as glitz and glamor (which is why I never would have wondered if narcissism could be part of the traits, until I started researching covert narcissism and a lot felt familiar), but there always WAS an endless obsession with how we looked and how I looked.

“You can’t look like Annie Lennox, she only gets to look like that because she’s famous!” “People might think you’re a lesbian, we can’t have that.” “Grandma will drop by and see this mess.” “Everyone is staring at us when you’re loud in public.” “That’s not what good Christians do” (said when I didn’t want to be seen being helpful, not when I didn’t feel charitable.) “You don’t want to wear that.”

It was exhausting, and I’ve only begun to realize most people don’t grow up hearing it constantly.

I talk very often about how I’m neurodivergent and awkward, and my therapist tells me she really doesn’t think I’m that strange. She might be biased because she knows me, but I’m beginning to think I rebelled against the endless “let’s look good” with “I can’t do that. That makes me a freak. But I’m not bad! Being a freak is good. Fuck yeah freaks!”

It’s funny how tumblr is so keen on how we talk about narcissism but doesn’t seem to mention how tiring image obsessing Can get.

It’s one of several things that make me wonder if tumblr and YouTube are talking about different neurodivergences entirely.

(For a trivial example: I would imagine the people I’ve met who act like what I’m describing would be affronted if you asked them about masking or said they’re secretly insecure, where the tumblr people talk a LOT about how much masking is unfun and really stinks.)

[shinobinvku]

RP continuation for @009720kakashi | Kakashi

He arches both eyebrows which also makes him open the Sharingan. It is exhausting to keep it closed constantly without the support of a Hitai- ate. In ANBU attire he cannot wear one since he has to be able to open it under the mask.  “Are you dru…?” he does not finish the sentence. Instead looks at Otsuka’s refilled glass and sighs. “Well of course you are” he adds then in a lower voice. Taking another sip of his own glass. “You are far too occupied with my dick Otsuka. Are there even these mysterious other people or do you want to tell me something?” Attack was the best defence at times. Also people tended to be thrown off by such remarks. He might regret it with Otsuka though. The man is not shy at all. “Aside from that… ANBU doing ‘commitment’ clearly need to rethink their career choices ne?” Being in ANBU is a good excuse to fend off overzealous suitors. Not that he has overzealous suitors. People do rarely approach him that way and he has worked very hard for that. Usually civilians tended to be more brave in that aspect since they did not know his reputation.  He lets Shinya fill his glass once more after all. You did not get shimazake that often.  “No!” he replies immediately.  “Are you fucking kidding me? No setting up anything Otsuka.” It is one think if it comes to it naturally. Something else to have someone set it up.  “Believe it or not I can get sex …even without having to pay for it or be set up. I’m not that hopeless. Also if she is that interested how about she makes a move then? You said it yourself. There are no rules against it since I’m not her Captain. That’s not on my plate then I’d say.”

❝ Oi, I heard that, you little shit! I’m not drunk.  It’ll take more than that, trust me. ❞ Shinya laughed, taking another drink. The Ghost Tiger may be several things, like a notorious flirt or a party animal, but he was not a lightweight. The man had an unnaturally high tolerance to alcohol for someone his size. Rumor has it he could even out-drink anyone. 

❝ Why? Do you want me to say something, Hatake? ❞ He asks in a low, sultry tone, lips laced with a devilish smirk. Of course, he’s joking. He chuckles, takes a large drink, and leans over the balcony railing.  

❝Don’t flatter yourself. You may have that mysterious vibe thing going for you with the mask, but that’s about it. My type is someone with an actual personality. Joking aside, though, you could’ve fooled me! You’re always so fucking tightly wound, I figured it’s been a while for you. ❞ 

Shinya sighs, scratching the back of his head. You try to help a guy out, and they end up ungrateful! 

❝ Do you want her to make the first move? God’s sake, Hatake, you’re a real ladies' man. ❞ He rolled his eyes, running a palm over his face at how embarrassed he was for him. 

❝ Look, if I gave you a hint of who it is, you can do with the information as you want. You’ve worked with her before. A certain cute, little redhead that we know. Ring any bells? ❞

[nicejewishgirl]

fuck the last few months have been hell. I’ve had to worry about my survival and more so my mother as we both have had very serious hospitalizations but it just happened again in Thursday. Every day feels traumatizing. I’m in a nightmare that I can’t wake up from. There’s been so much stress, chaos, and turmoil. My family dynamics have me on edge.

Now my parents and I all have covid bc our local hospital sucks at covid protocols. I didn’t even go inside but got it from my parents (who were masked most of the time even in her hospital room) a couple days later. I’ve never had covid so this was the cherry on top. It’s too much. Like no fucking more!!!

I don’t even want to write out the things that have happened because it makes it feel so much more real and it just upsets me to write out such fatal shit. I still plan to operate jewsforpalestine but I’m literally trying to make it day by day whether that’s due to my own illness or taking care of my mother as if I was a trauma nurse. I haven’t eaten in a couple of days because of the stress and because of how bad my flareup is / possibly from covid.

I haven’t even told you all about how I need full reconstruction on both feet and how the surgeon said my deformity was a 10/10 😍 and that he’s never seen feet so bad (on the x-ray) as all my bones are crunched up and in the wrong spot which is why I have several stress fractures in both feet. I am seeing a few other surgeons as this guy was awful but I also have yo see colorectal surgery to fix my colectomy…. which is fucking frightening.

I’m also trying to manage my severe iron deficiency anemia while constantly worrying if my mom was/is going to make it. Seriously, this last scare really had me panicked. I don’t even feel comfortable saying what it is because it’s her life but what happened was serious… being covid positive complicates her recovery even further. I barely leave her alone and constantly hovering over her. I’m so scared…. I rarely show it though.

There’s soooo much more that I still haven’t mentioned from these past few months but I just wanted to say that I’m still alive 👋… barely lol but I just need to vent. Covid just pushed me over the edge. I’m still free Palestine and still really want to create a collective of like minded folks but I have been in full on crisis, fight or flight mode and haven’t been able to do one thing other than trying to get by.

As I’m typing this, I’ve fallen asleep multiple times creating a variety of typos. I’m not having fun or even doom rolling, watching tiktok, or whatever, etc. I’m taking care of my mom, my dogs, the house, cooking, cleaning, making all of our appointments, dealing with insurance etc. and then fall asleep by 8pm because of my fatigue. My exhaustion (largely due to my anemia & still’s) prevents me from doing soooo much and the lack of oxygen to my brain has definitely effected my cognitive ability, concentration, and executive functioning.

I can’t wait for things to calm down so I can start this project along with answer some of my latest messages that require a detailed response! I also just want to be able to breathe and know that things will be ok. I just wish someone could wrap their arms around me and tell me that but I’m on my own in that regard… hence why my pathetic ass is posting here. 💗

[justmybookthots]

Love, Theoretically

4.25/5 stars

Technically, this is a reread. I was feeling low because of another book yesterday, and I really wanted a good pick-me-up before I spiralled into a slump. And given how much I freaking loved this book the first time (I read it a week or so after it first got published?), I was hoping it would do the trick. 

It did. I just finished rereading the entire thing a few hours ago. Oh my gosh. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this is by the same woman who wrote my romcom archnemesis: Love Hypothesis. How do you go from writing… Adam Driver (Carlton? Ca… Something) to fucking Jack? (And yes, Ali needs to consider giving her male leads less basic white boy names. That said, Levi’s name wasn’t so basic. His personality though…)

Jack is my favourite Hazelwood hero by FAR. Of course, Hazelwood technically only has two distinguishable heroes, since Adam and Levi are just differently named versions of each other. My point is, Jack is… wonderful. He’s blonde—I’m partial to fair-haired male characters, okay? He’s calm. Humorous. Communicative. Understanding. Emotionally intelligent. Like, look at this: 

And to sum it up:

He wasn’t perfect, obviously, but I… My brain was short-circuiting at so many of his scenes, his actions, his easy banter, his sense of humour. There’s one scene where Elsie thinks they’re about to have sex, but she’s clearly too tired for it, and he just plays along:

I loved their banter, omg. Some parts, not so much, but most of it was hilarious. It isn’t only with Elsie; Jack’s exchanges with his grandmother were gold, too. Millicent Smith made me crack up in that singular scene when they had tea—I think she’s a phenomenal character.  It’s amusing and admirable how Jack could respond to and handle her eccentricities without batting an eyelid. 

I really wanted to give this a five stars. I really did. I still do. I mean, the first half of the book before Jack and Elsie got together is fantastic, and is possibly the highlight of the entire story. Hazelwood nailed the tension between both leads. Furthermore, I love the throughline of the story: Elsie suffers from chronic People Pleaser Disorder where she constantly plays different versions of herself to—you guessed it—please different people. She does this incessantly, not just when she fake-dates but in many aspects of her life. As someone who dislikes the fake dating trope, it’s nice to see that this trope is being tied to an ongoing character development arc. (It also helps that she isn’t fake-dating Jack. I’m so, so tired of fake-dating between two romantic leads.) Jack is privy to all this through observation, and he encourages her constantly to be nothing more than herself. 

This theme has, to be honest, been giving me some food for thought. I’m about to derail, but I do think women are societally expected (more so than their male counterparts) to be many different things. I don’t want to go too far in depth about it because this isn’t the place, but I remember (this is still going to be a bit out of left field, but this is my reading journal, so I’ll say what I want) reading somewhere that women are likelier to be better at masking autism than men. Simply put, I believe it’s because men can be themselves, whatever that may entail, and not have to apologise for it. It’s why I’m annoyed by male characters like Adam, or just the male “grump” archetype, because men rarely need to be polite. There’s almost no flak for them if they behave in a way that lacks any kind of grace.  

But if a woman behaves the same way, she’s simply put: a bitch.

Anyway. I digress. All I’ll say on this subject is that I really enjoyed the overarching theme regarding Elsie’s character growth. 

However, this is not a perfect book. There are some points that I don’t love:

The smut. This is the biggest issue. Jack is very giving, which is great, and he is BIG on consent, which is also great. I can’t put a finger on why I don’t love how the smut is written though. Whatever it is, it’s a me problem. Ali’s writing style for smut isn’t to my taste. It doesn’t feel very… sexy? The whole scene where Jack and Elsie made out and did something sexual for the first time was really awkward. I am a firm believer that consent CAN be written in an attractive way, but this was not it. 

Twilight is not it. I’m sorry, Elsie.

I do not understand why Jack is so muscular. Big, I get because that's genetic or whatever, but why muscular??? How is a nerd who spends his days in a lab getting that muscle tone? That allusion to him playing basketball in a gym on certain weekends is NOT enough.

The PDA between Jack and Elsie at George’s house near the end of the story made me cringe. Please stop. 

Adam’s cameo. Gag. I read this book to get away from Adam, not return to his presence.

Now. Going back to more things I did love, that I haven’t mentioned yet:

Jack and the article. No, not the one he wrote when he was seventeen. The fucking article he wrote at the end as penance was AMAZING

Elsie running back to him and falling apart and saying that he probably thought they’d broken up forever because of how she’d ignored him after their fight. To which he, very calmly, goes: Nope. Who said we broke up? I was giving you space, just as you asked me for. 

GEORGINA/GEORGE. Zero girl-on-girl hate in this book. I have to give Ali credit where it’s due; there is none of this in any of her books, if I’m not wrong. Instead of having Georgina, who “stole” Elsie’s job, be the stereotypical catty bitch, she turns out to be an amazing character who saves Elsie’s career. I love how the literary landscape of female characters has changed in recent years.

“Manuscript I’d love to finish” being called MILF is something I am claiming for myself. 

Never thought I’d say this two months ago, but I absolutely loved this book. Now my biggest question is: will this be an outlier in Hazelwood’s repertoire, or will she be ever-evolving into something new and better with future books? (Bad Boy of chess, though? Really?)

FINE. I’ll stick around to find out. 

- 16 Aug 2023

[toxiccluvvv]

Your scars;

Pairing: Kyojuro Rengoku, Haturo Haganezuka, and Genya Shinazugawa x reader

Content warning: degrading and mentions of razor blades

Word count: 865 words

Readers sex: Female

Summary: how the men of demon slayer react to scars on your face.

This is an anonymous request!

Masterlist

Kyojuro

Would comfort you

Would reassure you; he still loves you

You have recently went head to head with an upper demon; he was sure to leave his mark on you. You have a deep scratch running across your face, it made you feel shame, so you constantly kept your face wrapped.

Kyojuro never seemed to mind this, but he also wanted you to accept what happened for what it was. He thinks you look beautiful regardless, it saddens him to know you feel that way about yourself.

The bright man, was thinking of ways to help you overcome your fear, he wasn’t sure how, but he was determined for you to see your beauty.

-

Kyojuro took you on a beautiful date; filled with laughing, love, fun, and overall just things that made you realize how much this man loved you regardless of how you looked.

He smiled at you caressing your cheek, “I hope one day I can see your beautiful face once again.” You frowned, not wanting to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry.. I just don’t want you to see what I look like.. it’s hideous..”

“You’re far from hideous beautiful, nothing will ever change how I feel about you.” He spoke placing a soft kiss on your bandaged forehead.

You sighed before unwrapping the wrap that covered your head slowly; you didn’t want to take it off, but you knew you could trust Kyojuro.

When the wrap was off your face, you felt ashamed.. he quickly leaned your head up to press his lips against yours softly, “you’re so beautiful and you always will be, don’t ever feel ashamed around me.” He whispered inches away from your lips before placing another soft kiss on your lips.

Haturo

Would send death glares at anyone who made any faces

Would love and support you regardless

Haturo knows about how you feel about the scars you have on your face, so living in the hidden swords village is very ideal for you.

You wear a mask everywhere, and on the off chance you are seen without one you are quick to cover it.

God forbid someone say something or stares though; Haturo will never let them live it down till you make him stop.

-

One day when the two of you were walking down the street, a little kid runs to bump into you at a quick speed, knocking you on the ground.

Your mask flew off; showing your face to anyone near. There were auditable gasps from the people around you as you crawled to retrieve your mask.

Once the mask was on you, you looked up to find a furious Haturo. He had the kid lifted up off his feet, scolding him furiously.

You were quick to run to the man, placing your hands on his toned arm. “Turo.. please..” you whispered, voice breaking in the middle.

He was quick to put the kid down, and pull you into his chest. PDA was rare for the man, but for you, he’d do anything regardless of the looks.

“If all you rats don’t stop looking, I will hurt all of you.” He growled as he began walking the two of you home.

Genya

Would still love your kisses

Would literally fuck anyone who had anything to say up.

Much like Iguro you had a snake like scar on your mouth, but it was made by people from your village. They had no valid reason to do this; you were accused of things with no proof.

They didn’t care; you had to be punished. They brought a razor blade across your delicate skin, forever scarring your face

-

When Genya met you; he was instantly curious. He wanted to get to know you more, which was very unusual for the man.

When the two of you got together; he was always jokingly asking for the mask to come off. He never pressured you, nor did he upset you, he just wanted you to know he wanted to see you subtly.

One day, you were wrapping your face when the black haired walked into the room you were sitting in. You looked back at the man, wide eyed, “I’m sorry dear!” He spoke, quickly closing the door.

“It’s okay.. come in..” you whispered defeated. “Im sorry dear..” he spoke walking into the room slowly. Once he saw your face, he came to a halt.

You wanted to cry at his reaction; looking down at the ground. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered as he sped up to stand face to face with you.

“Ca..Can I kiss you..” he whispered as he lifted your chin so he could look you in the eye, “please.” You whimpered already leaning toward the raven haired man.

When the two of your lips met; the raven haired man knew he was willing to do anything for you. He gave you so much confidence; so much that you were willing to go out without a bandage on. If anyone dared to look your way with any judgement; he would be quick to try to fuck them up. You didn’t allow it much, but if you did, the person isn’t often recognized.

[songmingisthighs]

[22.03] reaper/devil!hongjoong × reader

⇀ i love you to death. but why do i have to love you when i already died ?

⇁ tw : suicide (attempt, mentions of previous attempts), self-depreciation, talks of death, some depiction of the afterlife based on christian belief, dark themes

⇁ do NOT read if you're easily triggered, read at your own discretion. you've been warned.

⇁ a/n : i've been wanting to publish this since last year but one day in august i think tumblr deleted my progress and i was so heart broken that it took me almost a year to finally rewrite this lmaooooooo

Your eyes fluttered open as you slowly regained consciousness. You had expected to feel frozen or to not feel anything. The last thing you remembered was succumbing to the cold world and water, closing your eyes and just letting yourself go. So why do you feel warm?

"You know there are better ways to contact me, right?"

The voice startled you, nearly making you jump up. When you snapped your head towards the source, you saw an annoyed-looking Hongjoong, standing not too far from you with a steaming mug. Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong made you his favourite tea. He remembered it from when he was still alive. It looked very hot but you believe that's Hongjoong's intention to let warmth get into your body as quickly as possible.

Lips curling into a one-sided smile, you sassed him, "well, wouldn't be me if I didn't call you in the most dramatic way, would it?" you said, chuckling at him. He rolled his eyes before plopping down next to you. He placed the steaming mug on the coffee table before pressing his hand to your forehead with his eyes closed, focusing. In the close distance, you couldn't help but admire his beauty. You may have not met any reaper/devil other than him, but you were willing to bet that he was one of the most beautiful ones there is. After all, they're supposed to be tempting to humans.

"Your body temperature's returning," he simply stated as he opened his eyes to stare at you, "drink the tea I made. I... can't taste anything, but I put some sugar in."

Once your eyes met his own, you can't seem to pull away. You weren't sure if it was his ability, or if you were just naturally drawn to him. The way his eyes bore into your soul, the way he look so damn hot when annoyed (which is constantly), and the way he took care of you despite the stupid shit you pulled. Stupid by his definition, to you, it was a desperate decision and attempt.

As you reach for the cup of hot tea, you couldn't help but let out a chuckle, confusing Hongjoong. "What's so funny?" The devil asked. You took your time blowing and sipping on the piping hot tea as you thought about how to answer him. "Just.." You drawled while putting the mug back on the coffee table, "You must be fucking tired of me... Of having to always come here to safe a lonely loser whenever she decided to pull some dumb crap," despite the heaviness in your words, your tone was lighthearted.

Hongjoong wanted to scold you for thinking so lowly of yourself. And also for thinking that he could ever be tired of you. But he bit his lip from blurting out the first thing he thought of. After what you had just tried to do, he thought that the last thing you needed was a lecture or for him to be the one who pushed you over the edge. Kim Hongjoong might be soulless, but he's not heartless.

So he scoffed to mask his true feelings. "Might as well, had you not accidentally summoned me, I would probably just be stuck screening The Book, waiting to pick someone up. Or worse, I'd be babysitting Wooyoung, preventing him from ruining hell even more," he blurted out. The way he seemed tired of his friend made you laugh. It was a rare occurrence for you to openly laugh like that. So Hongjoong was glad that he managed to be the one who elicit such melodious sound from you, evident from him cracking a smile at you.

With your laugh subsiding, came a wave of headache. You can only assume that it was because of the cold water earlier, but you don't quite care for the reason. You leaned to rest your head on the couch, not realizing that you had made yourself even closer to Hongjoong.

Eyes widening, Hongjoong froze in his spot, not knowing what to do. Initially, he wanted to pull away and even dash out. But he saw the way you were seeking for warmth from him despite his cold body temperature what with being not alive and all, your body inching closer with your eyes closed. It was as if you both were magnets, just slowly being pulled to each other. In the end, he let his guard down and pulled you to fully lean on him as he draped a blanket over your body. Once again, with the blooming smile on your face, the devil was glad to have such a positive effect on you.

"What was it this time?" He asked.

Your eyes opened slightly, immediately staring blankly at the floor. Usually, you'd be rather apprehensive talking about your triggers or your feelings as you felt that no one can fully understand what was going on with you. Not to mention the trust you'd have to put on people to not make fun of you or use your situation against you for their advantage. You've been through that before and it was once too many. But Hongjoong's different. Is it the fact that he himself is not human? Is it the fact that he deals with death on a daily basis? Whatever it was, you know you can trust him.

"Just..." You started, eyes darting to your kitchen then it slowly dragged all over your apartment. A lump began to form in your throat but you pushed it down, "I just realized how lonely I am. I know for a fact that if I went missing, no one would even bat an eye," you chuckled bitterly at your own word.

Hongjoong furrowed his eyebrows at that. But then he remembered seeing only one pair of chopsticks, one spoon, and one fork in your drawer, three cups maximum, and maybe two bowls, a plate, and other lonely-looking things. He understood that you don't have many friends, those you have are not physically close to you and you can't always depend on them for anything urgent or even invite them for leisure time at your place. He understood your loneliness very much, he was much like you when he was still alive. More often than not, he'd always have his nose deep in his work and he wouldn't socialize because he felt that he wasn't enough for other people. Maybe that was why he was so attached to you, he saw the part of himself in you that he wanted to save you from.

Unconsciously, he pulled you in closer, "You know for a fact that people will look for you. People love you, (y/n)," he said, trying to reassure you. You scoffed at his words, "Not romantically though." Without you realizing it, you had tears streaming down your face from the thought of no one loving you romantically. You looked up at him with glassy eyes that would wrench his heart if it was still working. "Why can't I be with you in death, Joong? I wanna be with you," you asked in a broken voice.

It was the first time Hongjoong heard someone verbally needing him. In life, when people need him it was always because they want to abuse his skills. In death, it was always about work and his responsibilities. No one has ever asked to be with him, not like this.

Hongjoong wanted to pull you in, kiss you, and take you with him, but he knew it would be wrong. He wanted to comfort you, he wanted to make sure that you would never be sad anymore. But he knew that he can't, he was already as much attached to you as you are to him. It would be beyond wrong.

So he pulled you even closer to him, plush. Your head now resting on his shoulder as his arms completely surround you in a protective grasp. You had your legs draped over his lap as his hands caressed your hair, "You know it's not your time. You still have your life to live and while this is merely a bump in the road, your life will turn for the best and you're gonna leave when the time is right which is when you're old and grey," he said, now smiling to himself. He was given a vision of you and your future as he spoke. He saw you ageing gracefully (to him that is, as he saw you complain about your slowly developing wrinkles), how you look so mature and wise. On your side, he saw a man that he seemed to recognize which caused him to let out a silent tear. Then he saw you in your golden years, surrounded by many people, some were your friends, some were your husband's friends, he also saw adults that he assumed were your children and even your grandchildren. Then he saw you in your deathbed and from the way it was shown, he had a feeling that he will be the one to pick you up.

You couldn't help but scoff at that, "I don't wanna die when I'm old, I wanna be young in the afterlife," you said as you let out a yawn. The soft caresses Hongjoong gave slowly lulled you to sleep. Hongjoong rolled his eyes at you, "Everyone is 33 in the afterlife, you'll be in your prime by then," he reassured. You had drifted even more, but you still wanted to talk to him. "What if I look bad in my 30s? What if I'm at my ugliest at 33?" you asked before completely drifting off to slumber. "Not possible, you're never ugly. You'll be the most beautiful of them all, or at least to me you will," he said in a hushed tone, realizing you had already fallen asleep.

Seeing you in such a calm and serene state in his arms made him tear up.

"I love you to death. But why do I have to love you when I already died?" he whispered to himself as he finally let his emotions take over and tears began flowing down his face.

The next day, you woke up to a knock on your door.

You sat up and look around in slight confusion. You tried to remember what happened and you slowly began to regain your memories. As per usual, Hongjoong's visit was like a mere dream to you. Although it was very much real, a real spiritual encounter will be presumed as a dream state in humans. That's just God's way of making sure that some mysteries will be left.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" A voice appeared at your front door.

You snapped into realization and rush to your front door. When the door swung open, a handsome man appeared in your vision. He had droopy eyes and a charming smile, he wore a baseball cap backwards with some comfy t-shirt and sweatpants. Even with the outfit, he seemed fit. Somehow, he looked very familiar but you can't really put a name to it.

"Hi, so sorry to bother you," he said sheepishly, "I literally just moved in the next door unit but the moving company seemed to be lost and I wanted to call them but my phone charger is in one of the boxes in the truck, can I borrow yours?" he genuinely looked like he needed help so you immediately move to the side to let him in.

After lending him your phone charger, you decided to make him some tea as he deal with his issue.

"Oh gosh, you didn't have to do this! You were nice enough to help a stranger like me! Which is rather dangerous, like what if I'm a serial killer?" He asked jokingly as he stared deeply at you. Not knowing what to do, you simply stared back at him blankly, causing him to slightly panic, "Joking! I'm sorry, I'm totally joking! I get nervous around pretty girls," he blurted out. After realizing what he said, he cringed and sighed in utter disappointment of himself.

"Don't worry, you don't seem like a bad guy and I'm happy to help," you chuckled. "Besides, what are the chances that I'm also a serial killer?" you joked back, making him break into soft laughs. "I like your humor," he said before taking a sip of his tea. You mirrored his action, completely missing the recognition in his eyes and how he stared into the cup of tea with longing.

After a while, it seemed that the issue was resolved, and the man seemed to be in a more relaxed state. "Can I leave my phone here to charge fully? I'll be back later with some jjajangmyeon and tteok," he suggested, biting onto his bottom lip nervously, something you completely missed. "Oh, no you don't have to bring anything, you can leave your phone here however long you want and just get it any time," you waved your hands at him, reassuring him that you didn't expect anything from him. He raised an eyebrow and tilt his head slightly, "Please, it's the least I can do after your help. Besides, you're my first friend here, it'll only make sense for me to spend my first meal with you!" he smiled.

You felt your breath hitched and your heart stopped. "F... Friend?" You repeated, the word felt unfamiliar when spoken. He simply nodded with a bright smile, "Yeah, friend! So please, let me do this?" You sighed as you began picking at your nail in a nervous manner, "Look, it's not that I don't want to, but..." you glanced to your kitchen and sighed, deciding to just rip the bandaid and let the handsome stranger realize just how much of a loner you are, "I only have one pair of utensils and a couple bowls and a plate, it's just... I don't know," you couldn't help but drop your head to stare at your feet in embarrassment.

The man walked closer and leaned down to search for your eyes, "I can always take my own utensils and plates out when they arrive soon and bring them here so we can eat together. But I understand if you feel uncomfortable," he said. Your head shot up in surprise. It had been a while since you let yourself show your vulnerability to someone in person and though he knew you for barely an hour, he seemed so genuine and you were not used to that. But it felt so nice.

All of a sudden, you remembered the dream you had last night. The real interaction that your brain remembered as a dream. You remembered Hongjoong telling you that your life will turn for the better. Is this the start?

Slowly, your head shook at the man in front of you, "No, if- if you're okay with bringing your own utensils here, I- I- I'll be glad to eat with you," you told him, breaking off into a gentle smile. The man immediately perked up as he nodded excitedly, "Awesome! I'll be here later for my phone and food or whichever comes first I guess," he laughed before turning around to head to the door.

That's when you realized that you never got his name.

"Hey!" You called out, stopping him as he was just about to close the door, "I never got your name," you told him. "I-I'm (y/n)," you added, pointing at yourself. He smiled and repeated your name softly, seemingly trying to remember it but in reality, he was admiring how pretty it sounded.

"I'm Bumjoong, Kim Bumjoong,"

taglist :

@rdiamond2727 @ikonic-loser @kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @bobateastay

[tragictrainmen]

Welcome

Yo I'm Ari! I'm an autistic trans dude who loves me some autistic Trains dudes. HA

I’m a 31yr old adult but this is a harmless pokemon train blog. Not really gonna be posting anything inappropriate. please interact responsibly and only follow if you want to. *thumbs up*

Anyway this is an introductory post of sorts. :> I’m compiling all my headcanons for the Submas twins in one place, and so ppl wanting to follow can get a feel for the kind of content I’ll be reblogging! (and maybe even... making????)

SO let’s get started.

Headcanons that apply to both the boys:

Eyes glow in low light. This is seen with Ingo's eyes in PLA and is too cool not to just call canon. Graphical error? Never heard of her. Seriously thought it was to make Ingo feel like a ghost lost in the past. Really thought his plot twist was gonna be that he was dead the whole time. |D

Both boys are on the spectrum. Both are canonically literalists who avoid lying, share a special interest in trains and Pokemon battles, both struggle with social cues and come across as either aggressively blunt (Emmet) or constantly unhappy and severe (Ingo).

They’re Aro/Ace, although they have a close Platonic friendship with Elesa. I Love adopted sister Elesa content. I am NOT a blankshipper. Do not like incest content. Looking for healthy sibling relationships in my content pls and thank you. I also Love Uncle Ingo and Akari content. He’s a good dad.

On that note: I really like shit that subverts toxic masculinity, especially as a trans dude myself, so I don’t see male sibling affection as idk.. erotic? wrong? If they cuddle on the couch watching a movie together then like. That’s just them hanging out. Idk I'm the oldest of 5 siblings I know what siblings do when they love each other and live together. (and have survived trauma together) And half the reason I like submas content is bcus of their healthy sibling bond that survives through their trauma. Also they are neurodivergent. 🤗

I don't headcanon either of the boys as heavy swearers. Maybe Emmet will say shit and Ingo would mutter damn, but neither would say fuck publicly. It’s more of a professionalism thing, and they’re both very articulate in unique ways. I feel like they’d be concerned cussing would cause someone to take them less seriously. (I don’t mind content where they do cuss! I think Emmet saying fuck is funny as shit, it just doesn’t fit how I ‘read’ them.)

The nitty gritty, like personal autistic headcanons for each brother and how they operate together will all be under a cut to save post length.

Ingo:

- Autism shows itself in lack of facial expression. Pretty much does not realize he is Not Emoting 90% of the time. (This is actually canon in Pokemon Masters? He's genuinely surprised you've never seen him smile) He does smile in PLA, but VERY rarely, and uh. it’s like, almost a straight line. That’s the best you’re gonna get.

 -Also will show excess emotion in his voice, and on top of that, his volume control is pretty terrible, and he often uses said volume to accentuate happiness or excitement. Will gradually get louder the more intensely interested in a conversation he is in. Will be shouting about Pokemon battle strategies in a diner and not know he is shouting.

- Has learned to mask behaviors because of his personal sense of responsibility.

-He has older sibling syndrome BAD. It made putting aside his autistic needs a priority as a child and he still struggles with it as an adult.

-This can make strangers believe he's the more 'neurotypical' brother, which is bullshit haha. Ingo will still fidget with his hands in private or around Emmet.

- Fidgets include picking the grime out from under his nails meticulously. (Often done while alone, or before bed) Clapping his hands together or slapping his lap/ the wall/ the seat repeatedly when he finds something funny, and touching or adjusting his hat. He will reach for it even when he's not wearing it.

-He will also clasp his hands together and rub his thumb in circles along the back of one hand. Will also do this while holding hands. Or putting a hand on your back or shoulder. Thumb rubs from Ingo are a common side effect of him touching you for any prolonged period of time.

-He will also take and inspect Emmet's or Elesa's hands/nails when they're alone or waiting for a long period of time. (He will do this while they watch TV, for example. This is a social love behavior and is not something he does with anyone else. He might have done it to Akari a few times? To her utter confusion. “Ingo is there something wrong with my hand?”)

-Aside from voluntary hand-touching, Ingo actually dislikes being hugged or held without express permission first. Will often still stiffen up like a board when hugged with permission. Touching can be painful. Doesn't so much have this issue with kids, who he absolutely adores. But kid hugs are rare and don't involve someone squeezing your shoulders or restricting your arms so they're aren't that bad.

-Organized to a fault. Used the calendar app and the alarm app to their fullest potential. Follow the schedules? He and Emmet live by this. Emmet follows Ingo's schedule. They work best that way. His office desk is meticulously organized. No matter what Emmet's looks like, it's always just as tidy as Ingo’s by the time they head home. (He makes sure Emmet cleans up after himself)

-Living situation is the same. Clothes get ironed because Ingo makes sure they do. Chores are ordered by day, week, and brother because Ingo and Emmet need structure, but Ingo's the only one good at Maintaining structure. More on Emmet later.

-Music taste is primarily modern classical. Piano or small orchestral accompaniments like Ryuichi Sakamoto and Andrew Shapiro. Or Orchestral movie scores that emphasizes the grandiose, think the soundtrack of Interstellar. Hanz Zimmer's more classical stuff. Any Gibli movie soundtrack is also fair game. He also likes jazz and certain types of alternative folk. Would probably like Rainbow Kitten Surprise and Mumford and Sons.

-Comically enough, both brother's will willingly tolerate each other's music. Even though they have. Uh. Opposite tastes. They share the same Spotify account even. Ingo will tolerate most average Radio fare, and is probably the most willing to give up the aux. Sort of a music pushover. Is surprised when someone wants to listen to his music.

Emmet:

-Autism and Adhd bundled together into a man that is somehow both the most monotone and most enunciated fast-talker you've ever met. He says everything so abruptly. But you understand every word. He has had A LOT of practice making himself understandable. I've seen some posts around talking about Emmet being nonverbal when he was younger and I wholeheartedly agree with that.

-Emmet's language journey was a rough one, but he's an incredibly confident speaker. I don't believe he's self-conscious about how he talks. To be honest, I don't think Emmet is Aware he speaks oddly at all. If someone says something, he literally has no clue what they could be on about. Yeah Ingo talks kinda weird I guess but him? No. You are wrong actually.

-Is Not Sarcastic. Does Not Know How To Sarcasm. His verrrys are verrry genuine. They just uh... Never sound that way. RIP. He IS a bit blunt though. He has no filter.

-Stimming is far more obvious in Emmet. He is a foot tapper, the sort to rock back and forth on his heels if he's impatient. He claps when he's happy, he claps when he's excited, he claps when something is funny. He is power-walking towards you right now because he can't hold still anymore. :) :) :) Chews his nails, but only while hyper-focusing. Much to Ingo's frustration. Ingo is the only reason his nails have any growth at all. He sometimes makes them bleed without realizing it. :(

- He will twirl or click anything in his hands if he is holding it long enough. He will tear or fold the corners of paper if left holding it for too long. Will scribble on the edges of notes or even on important documents if not given enough stimulation. Likes to draw smiles in the corners and repeated straight lines close together. (The straighter and closer the better!)

-While Ingo has an almost compulsive level of organization, Emmet's forms are always crumpled a little, smudged in places. There's a smiley face next to where he needed to sign his name. A coffee ring somewhere maybe. He doesn't know how coffee got on it. :) He's verrry sorry! It is still a proper legal document thought :) you will take it.

-Contrary to this, Emmet likes things just as neat and organized as his brother, but struggles to plan well and doesn't conceptualize time. His phone has just as many timers as Ingo's, but it includes ones with names like 'eat now' and 'leave with time for coffee'.

-He can struggle with executive dysfunction if left to do a task by himself without company. An issue he sees as a fault. Ingo can do things alone. Why can't he? Why does he have to fight himself tooth and nail just to take the trash out while Ingo is not home? This leads to uh. Some good angst when Ingo gets yeeted lol. Emmet cannot keep a place clean to save his life, and a lack of cleanliness directly affects his mental health.(he tries verrry hard though. Oh god does he try. u-u)

-Is more comfortable with most forms of contact than Ingo, but also prefers to be asked before being hugged. (has stricter boundaries about who can and can't touch him though. He will usually say no. Or ask Why.)

-Likes friendship kisses. 🚫not true kisses!🚫 Will kiss your hand. Will kiss your cut. Will kiss cute Pokemon. Has kissed his Electross's big dumb head before. Actually will also kiss soft blankets.

- Wait scratch that Actually both the boys like soft things. Ingo will rub them compulsively. Emmet will hold things up against his face and feel them against his lips. He will look like he's hiding his face during a scary movie but no he is enjoying a texture. :) (he is not scared of scary movies)

-As far as music, Emmet listens to the grungiest grinding electronic house imaginable. If it doesn't sound like someone tried to hybridize screamo and dubstep into a single song it's not Emmet. His tastes can also jump to more classic house and electronic music, with a preference for heavy beats and drops. He would like some Apashe and Infected Mushroom for example.

-He also likes alt rock, and mentions liking Piers’ music in Pokemon Masters, which is unsurprising. He would listen to Nightwish too lmao. Will usually wear headphones and play things loud as a form of self-regulation. Although he will willingly listen to Ingo's music no questions asked. But it makes him sleepy.

Maybe I will draw art of these two eventually. 😔 Until now, have this long ass post.

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 1

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever. 

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 3.3k chapters: 1/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

Cleaning rich people’s vacation homes hadn’t been your dream job growing up. You had such high hopes when you were a kid, well into your teens, of becoming a zoologist. It had started off like most kid’s dreams—in kindergarten you wanted to be a veterinarian. That grew into wanting to become a herpetologist, but then you wondered, why limit yourself? As a zoologist you could be around tons and tons of animals, studying their behaviors and ecological impacts. It was about half way past your fourteenth birthday that you realized none of your dreams mattered.

You woke in the middle of the night to a crippling pain in your stomach, an unbearable heat boiling under your flesh. You must’ve been screaming, because your parents burst in frantically—only to stop dead upon stepping past the threshold. At the time you had no idea why, but it had been shock. Omegas were rare nowadays, more and more betas were being born while the number of omegas dropped. It was a point on contention; betas could breed with alphas, rendering the omega almost obsolete but alphas, especially ones with packs, wanted omegas.

Personally, you figured that evolution had decided to take things into its’ own hands. Everything about omegas spat in the face of adaption; they were small and delicate, hardwired to obey alpha commands even to their own detriment, experienced a full weeks’ worth of being completely and utterly incapable of survival on their own—

Well, unless one acquired (through whatever means necessary) methods to prevent it that one. Heats, a homegrown threat guaranteed to commit acts of violence at least twice a year. By the time your first had worn off, your parents had already jumped into action. They had three different packs bidding on you. Your mother had been bubbling with glee, talking about how wonderful it was that she had produced an omega when she herself was a beta. Your very existence was about to rocket them into both fame and fortune. So, you ran away. That same night.

It had been shockingly easy to locate illegal suppressants. They taught all about them in school, how they were horrible and taxing on an omega’s physiology. Suppressants masked an omega’s scent, prevented their heats, and (in your opinion) were the best invention of the twenty first century. You couldn’t have given a flying fuck about what negative impacts they might’ve had on your body—death would be a reprieve. Unfortunately you’d yet to have any of the widely touted negative effects (effects that you were pretty sure were made up to keep omegas afraid and compliant) and so you found yourself cleaning rich people’s vacation homes just over the Canadian border.

You’d been living out of your car since you first bought it at sixteen, for five hundred dollars. You gave a creepy beta a blowjob to get your license forged. It was the best investment you’d ever made (not that you had the opportunity to make many) and the clunker was still getting you from point A to point B and that’s all you needed. You had to move constantly, staying in one place too long meant people started to notice you, especially in the small towns you frequented in Ontario. But there was so much forest surrounding you that every once in a while you could just drop off the face of the earth, camping so deep in the woods no one would stumble across you. It made staying anonymous so much easier.

That was actually the current plan, after you finished cleaning this last massive cabin; to abscond into the woods for a while, until you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You won’t return to this town for at least a year. You’ll spark recognition when you return, but not enough for anyone to consider you more than an outsider in their close-knit community. The kind woman who lets you work for her cleaning company so sporadically will remember you when you ring her, the only person particularly thrilled to hear you’re back for a few months.

You do an excellent job and you do it fast— you can thoroughly and perfectly clean a 6 bedroom mansion by yourself in less than 10 hours and you were paid under the table so you didn’t require overtime, which Mrs. Hunt loved (there was no tax to be taken from an unreported cash payment though, so it was a fair trade in your opinion). You would work yourself to the bone, 10 hours a day everyday there was work available for at least three months and then dip without any expectations until the next time you returned, when she was gushing over the amazing reviews your work had gotten the last time you were around.

It was symbiotic existence—you were paid well for your efforts, more than enough to sustain living out of your car for months at a time, and your performance drove her online reviews into the 4.9 stars range and made it feasible for her to raise her prices. Mrs. Hunt didn’t ask any questions either, even when you requested to only work alone and couldn’t provide any identification beyond a driver’s license.

You were finishing up the kitchen in what was definitely one of the nicest places you’d ever cleaned when your phone went off in your back pocket. It made your skin prickle. Very few people had your number and you couldn’t think of a single reason they’d ring you instead of texting unless something was wrong.  You propped the mop against your shoulder and dug out the phone, frowning at Mrs. Hunt’s name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Oh sweetie, I’m so glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing?”

“I’m well, Mrs. Hunt,” you answered, your voice coming out semi-robotically as you strained not to sound panicked while continuing the conversation like a normal fucking person, “I’m just about done here, I was finishing the dry mop in the kitchen when you called and then all I need to do is pack up.”

“Oh perfect! I was calling because the owner just rang me, apparently some of his packmates will be arriving a bit earlier than anticipated—potentially within the next hour. Something about someone getting caught up at work, I’ll spare you the details. But if you’re almost done then you’ll probably be gone by the time they arrive.”

“Certainly Mrs. Hunt,” you’d immediately started frantically dry mopping the moment the words ‘within the next hour’ escaped the woman’s mouth, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder. “I’ll be gone in the next few minutes.”

“Now even if you aren’t its okay,” the concern in her voice meant that your own had betrayed you, waivered when you responded without your knowledge. “I always warn the owners that if they arrive before the scheduled time that there’s a possibility the house won’t be done and/or there might be people actively working in the house. You won’t get in any trouble, okay?”

“R-Right, thank you ma’am,” you swallowed heavily, finishing the last swipe across the tile in the kitchen and hustling back into the foyer. “I really won’t be but a minute though. I always keep all of my equipment put away and together if I’m not using it, so I really just need to pack up the mop.”

Which you’d already shoved into the rolling cart you picked up each morning that held all of your cleaning supplies provided by the company.

“Don’t forget your bucket too!” Mrs. Hunt sounded smiley again, “I’ll leave the key under the mat so you can stow your cart tonight. Have a good one swee—.”

“You too!” You might’ve hung up a touch too soon to be considered polite, shoving the phone back into your pocket and running into the kitchen. There was no time to dwell on manners. 

The mop bucket was sitting on the counter, already washed and dried and waiting to be put away. You’d started keeping your things completely put away at all times the same day you’d been accosted by a homeowner who arrived home earlier than expected while you were still trying to pack up. You’d tried to put your notice in that night, a couple of years ago now, but Mrs. Hunt begged you not to—promised it would never happen again. This must’ve been her best attempt at preventing it. At least you had already planned to leave town tonight anyway.

You nearly sprinted back to the cart, haphazardly tossing the stupid bucket on top and wheeling it towards the huge front doors. You’d just stopped to reach around and grab the handle when the knob turned and the left door was pushed open, nearly hitting your cart.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he was a beta, curly haired and dark eyed with pale skin, wearing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Did I knock anything over?”

“N-No, sir,” you pulled the cart back a few steps, nearly trembling with the effort it took not to blast right past him, especially when you noticed him carefully scenting the air. "The house is all clean, I was j-just leaving.”

“Thank you, for getting everything clean for us. We don’t get to come out here as often as we like, I’m sure the place collected a lot of dust in our absence,” he smiled, looking both parts shy and calculating to your well trained eye— and you had no time for such consideration.

“Not too much, h-have a nice night!” You could feel your pulse racing and that was bad. Even the good suppressants, the ones that most of your money went to, had difficulty completely masking the scent of panicking omega.

“Did you use bleach?” The question caught you off guard and you almost jumped when he put a hand on your cart, glancing through the array of chemicals.

“Y-Yes, in the bathrooms. I wasn’t informed of any sensitivities—”

“Nothing a little fresh air won’t take care of,” you wanted him to stop looking at you like that, like there was some pale flash of recognition behind his eyes. “Would you go open the windows in the bathrooms upstairs? I’m afraid my nose is pretty sensitive, several of my packmates are similar.”

You did not like that his nose was especially sensitive and you hated that his packmates were similarly afflicted. It felt like getting punched in the face with a fight or flight instinct, your brain immediately demanded that you leave the cart and run past him—fuck the cart, fuck the job, you could find something else.

“Oh, and do you have the key to the front doors? I might as well get them from you now instead of us having to go down to the office tomorrow.” Your hand immediately dove into your pocket, yanking out the single key and dropping it in his palm. “Thanks— and the windows? Sorry, I just can’t go up there until it’s aired out.”

He wasn’t a huge man but the way he filled the doorway made you second guess trying to run past him, even if he was greying at the temples and looking a little rumpled. It was strange, you wouldn’t usually have such an intense reaction to a beta, but something about him was vaguely unsettling. So instead of trying to make a run for it, you turned on your heel and forced yourself to calmly walk up the stairs. There were four massive bedrooms in the cabin, each with its own bathroom and you’d need to go through and open the windows for the three bathrooms that had them. It meant darting into huge bedrooms, dodging expensive furniture and knickknacks and trying not to dirty the freshly mopped and swept hardwood floors in the process.

It took about five minutes but you felt like you’d run a marathon, your heart was pounding and there was sweat at the nape of your neck. All you wanted was out of the stupid fucking house, immediately. You dashed down the stairs and turned the corner, seeing your cart right where you left it. The door was still open too, but the beta was no where to be seen. You immediately darted forward, grabbing the cart tightly and beginning to push it past the threshold—

You were stopped in your tracks at the sight of two unnecessarily broad alphas. Both were tall, the white man standing just an inch or so taller, with a full beard and blond hair. The black alpha had facial hair too, a cleanly edged goatee to match a faded cut. Both were incredibly attractive and putting off waves of pheromones, to the point that your head floated for a moment.  Your lips clamped shut on a whine, instinct trying to push through and alert the two powerful alphas of your presence. Instead you ducked your head and continued out the door.

“Hi there, sweetheart.” Your gaze snapped up, immediately locking with a pair of dark brown eyes. “You the housekeeper?”

“Yes sir,” you answered quietly, stopping short in front of them when neither moved out of your way. “Sorry to have been here so late. Have a good evening.”

Both were still smiling, still pointedly not moving.

“My name’s Steve, that’s Sam,” the blond’s nose twitched, just slightly, and you realized he was very discretely scenting the air. “Nice to meet you. Do you live in town?”

“N-No, please excuse me,” you nudged the cart forward just an inch but they still didn’t budge and panic began coursing through your blood with renewed vigor, “excuse m—”

“Your scent is… confusing,” Steve’s head tilted to the side, “I don’t mean to be crass, of course, but I couldn’t help but notice.”

“It’s always been this way,” the response was automatic and your brain began shutting down all unnecessary functions; you were about to have to run and hope your omega physiology would make you faster than them.

“You smell almost like an omega,” he continued, both hands coming to rest on his hips, emphasizing the width of his shoulders. “But not quite?”

“I’m a beta.”

“Are you sweetheart?” Sam’s voice was a rumble, his head tilted to the side while his dark eyes burned holes into your skin.

The tone an alpha used with naughty omegas was deliberate and tightly controlled, the same as a command or a purr or a growl. It was on purpose, an attempt to nicely draw out the correct response. He wanted you to admit you were an omega, to tell them the truth of your own volition. The fact that your hindbrain desperately wanted to comply was a completely different issue—one you didn’t have time to address right now.

“Positive,” you breathed, clenching your fists tightly around the handles of the cart for just a second before deciding to leave it behind; you’d never be coming back here, there was no reason to worry about preserving your job.

Your eyes were quick and indefinitely perceptive. Being an omega was one step up from being a prey species, it came with inherent instincts that made you especially good at predicting behaviors. After all, an omega was only as good as their ability to please and soothe packmates. One of the single upsides to being an omega was that you were fast though—fast enough to outrun most alphas. And you only needed to go about a hundred and fifty feet, once you were in your car you could certainly get away. So the second you realized the pair was about to shift, moving to face each other more than you, you darted around the cart and dodged to the left.

It wasn’t your fault, honestly. There was no way you could’ve known you weren’t dealing with normal alphas. The blond was so fast that he almost moved between blinks—one moment he was still, the next he’d wrapped his arms around you and tugged you back into his chest. His arms were like steel, one wrapped around your torso to keep your arms pinned to your sides while the other carefully held your chin. Your hindbrain was screaming now, submit, submit, make alpha happy and you bit down on your tongue to hold in the whimpers, the omega sounds your throat was trying to produce.

“Shhh, shh, calm down,” it was half a tone away from being a purr and you continued to squirm while you still could—an alpha command was coming, you could feel it in your bones.

“Let Steve smell you,” Sam was rumbling instead of talking again, a similar half purr to how Steve had started speaking. "Everything’s okay, omega.”

You felt a nose nudge down your neck, towards your scent gland and you bared your teeth at the man in front of you. “I’m not an omega!”

“You smell like omega,” Steve’s breath ghosted over your skin and you fought a shiver. "Sort of. It’s buried, under… beta… sour beta?”

“What sort of suppressants are you on, sweetie?” You startled as the beta from earlier emerged from the house, wiping his hands on a dish towel absently. "Are you cutting them with anything? Heroin, or coke? It’s okay, you just need to tell me.”

“Tell Bruce sweetheart,” Sam coaxed, automatically moving to roll up the sleeves of your shirt, evidently looking for track marks. "Where do you get them?”

“I’m not on suppressants!” Your voice was almost a shriek at this point, desperately imitating the behavior of an angry beta rather than a terrified omega. “I’m a beta! Get off of me!”

“Okay, okay, here then,” Steve’s arm around your torso tightened, the one on your chin beginning to work its way down towards your jeans. "There’s only way one to tell for sure.”

Shock and fear and humiliation; an array of emotions swarmed through your body as his hand popped the button but those were the three you could identify and you immediately started thrashing your legs—he was going to check if you had an omega ridge and then everything would be over. It was a defining physical characteristic that couldn’t be passed off as anything other than what it was: a boney protrusion meant to catch on an alpha’s knot so they could be locked in place. In females it was found in the vagina, prominently featured directly before the g-spot so a knot would cause persisting pleasure. For males it was similarly positioned next to the prostate.

“Calm down, calm down!” Sam crooned, hands coming up to cup your face as while Steve’s slithered down the front of your jeans and into your panties. "It’s okay sweetheart, no matter what. Whatever Steve finds, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll keep you safe.”

The thrashing was doing nothing but tiring you out, you’d already been intensively cleaning for the past 9 hours without a break and it certainly wasn’t dissuading the hand slithering between your folds. You bit down on your tongue harder, until you drew blood to prevent the whimpers—you couldn’t make that stupid sound, you’d never make that stupid, pathetic, whiney noise, you couldn’t. Not even when a long, thick finger penetrated and sunk knuckle deep. Not even when the pad of said finger brushed your g-spot before hooking onto the ridge, tugging gently in a way that would’ve caused blinding pleasure had you not grounded yourself with the pain of biting your tongue.

“There it is,” Steve’s voice was soft, finger carefully running the length of the ridge. "A nice deep one too.”

“How long have you been taking suppressants?” Bruce prodded quietly, coming to stand next to Sam. “I need to know what sort of damage we’re looking at.”

When you didn’t respond Sam sighed, fingers brushing gently over your chin as he directed you to face him. "Please don’t make us use an alpha command, sweetheart. We just wanna take care of you. Tell Bruce how long you’ve been on suppressants, please.”

You regarded the handsome alpha for several short moments before spitting a mouthful of blood directly into his face.

 content warnings: assault, noncon vaginal fingering

edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus

[casuallyimagining]

You and Me

Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi has something he needs to ask you before the Grammys. Genre: slight angst, kind of fluffy at the end? Word Count: 1,865 Rating: T (there’s some swearing) Notes: Part of the Long Term Couples series. Read more here.

As he was leaving to go out to lunch with Namjoon and Jin, Yoongi told you that he had news he wanted to tell you when he got home. Which, of course, is possibly the worst thing to leave a person with.

What could he want to talk to you about?

You had a feeling you knew. Physical therapy had been progressing well for Yoongi, and while he still had a lot of healing to do, he was to the point where he could do almost all normal, daily tasks without help. He still had to wear his sling when he went out, and he was still in quite a bit of pain, but it was to the point where he would probably start back to work soon. And, of course, he would probably be moving back to the dorms again, and you would return to your lives pre-November.

Which meant you would go from seeing him literally all the time to only seeing him a few times a week--a return to taking him meals in your spare time, to sitting in the studio watching him work, to short dates to go grab coffee or a milkshake on his rare breaks. Thankfully, you had written the code for the Genius Lab down in your notes app, because after almost two and a half months of not using it, you weren’t confident that you remembered it.

Honestly, you weren’t sure if you could go back to sustaining yourself on text messages, and video calls, and brief, 15-minute meetings. Adjusting to him being there constantly--underfoot when you least expected him to be, but always there to lend an ear or a hand or just generally be there for you--had taken some time. Your routines had melded together so quickly, that having him wandering around your apartment at two in the afternoon was no more uncommon than you not being able to find a series to watch on Netflix. You knew it was coming eventually, but you weren’t sure you could stand the separation.

You would, though, for his sake. You would walk through fire for him.

And it would only be for a short time, right? He had promised you on Christmas. As soon as he was able, he was going to start moving out of the dorms and into his own apartment. He wanted you to join him, wanted you to move in with him. But you weren’t sure when that would be. He had never given you a timetable for when he expected to start moving. Which was fine, you supposed. He could take his time.

But the whole thing made you anxious, even though you knew it shouldn’t. What if he got too busy once he got back to normal life and forgot? What if he decided he wanted to stay at the dorms indefinitely? Worse, what if he changed his mind and he decided he did want to move, just not with you?

Your mind raced as you sat in your office at your piano, trying to lose yourself in the music. You wanted to believe that you had nothing to worry about, that even though things would change, you would continue to be a priority in Yoongi’s life, that you wouldn’t be taking a huge step backwards in your relationship. Somehow, you managed to distract yourself enough that you barely noticed you were playing “Spring Day” until you were almost done with the song.

You continued to play through some of the other songs you had memorized. Most of them, you noticed, were BTS--a strange side-effect of who you spent your time with and your students, the most prominent of which was, of course, Jimin.

As you played the final chord of “Black Swan,” the sound of gentle clapping made you jump, causing you to hit your knee on the bottom of your piano.

“Fuck,” you hissed, rubbing where the corner of the wood caught your leg. Now that you weren’t so surprised, you could see Yoongi standing in the doorway of your shared office, a look of concern barely masking his earlier amusement.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me come in,” he said softly. “I put some leftovers in the fridge, and Namjoon made us stop for hotteok on the way back, so that’s in there, too. Are you okay?” He crouched down beside you, his hand falling to your knee.

“Unsurprisingly, that is not the first time I’ve done that,” you said with a laugh. “I’m honestly kind of shocked there’s not some sort of dent in the wood.”

Yoongi offered you an amused smile. “Well I’m glad there’s no damage. To you or the piano.” He leaned in to kiss you as he stood, the action quick and easy--like he had done it a thousand times before--but contained no less love. “You’ve been holding out on me.” You could hear the mirth in his voice as he moved one of his paintings to pull the office chair closer to the piano.

You waved off his comment, shutting the lid on the keys of the piano. “I don’t take credit for the things Park Jimin forces me to memorize.”

“Maybe you should start.” He shrugged, and the two of you fell silent. After a moment, he wiped his hands on his thighs and looked at you, though dropped his gaze to his lap the second you made eye contact. “So, I was talking with Si-Hyuk-hyung, and he had some… news he wanted me to pass on.” You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Was this what he was talking about before he left?

“News?” you question, trying to play it off like you hadn’t spent the past few hours in a downward spiral of anxiety. “About…?”

“He and I were talking about us.” Yoongi gestured to himself and then to you. “He asked me if we wanted to go public any time soon.”

Your eyes went wide. “I… what? Why?”

“He apparently talked to Jin, Namjoon, and Jungkook about it, too.” He shrugged. “Si-Hyuk-hyung didn’t say why, but we think it’s because of the Grammys.” When you continued to look confused, he elaborated. “I mean, that’s kind of the thing, right? If you win an award, you turn and hug the person you love and then you go to receive it?”

“Oh, so you’re expecting to win?” you teased, trying to pretend like your cheeks weren’t a little flushed.

“Well, I think…” he stammered. “I think we should be prepared. Just in case.”

“So what did you tell PD-nim?”

“I told him I would talk to you about it.” You hummed. “He said he’d leave it up to us, but he’d like at least three days’ notice so they can prepare a statement.”

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say. Of course you had thought about it, about what going public would do to your relationship. You had considered the potential hate from the fans you would receive, and the fact that your private life, no matter how hard you tried, would never be fully private after. You knew about the strain it could put on your relationship with Yoongi, about how the saesangs and the paparazzi drove a wedge between many idols--particularly male idols--and their significant others.

But at the same time, you wanted to be able to go out with Yoongi without having to constantly look over your shoulder, without having to worry about someone from Dispatch seeing, or a well-meaning fan posting on social media. You wanted to be able to go with Yoongi to events, to publicly support him at concerts.

You sighed and reached for his hand. “What do you think?”

“It’s what you want, jagi. My life won’t really change much,” he said, squeezing your hand.

“Yoongi, please.” You didn’t like how exasperated your voice sounded, but you could feel your anxiety starting to spike again. “I need to know what you’re thinking.”

“Honestly?” You nodded. “I don’t know. It actually kind of terrifies me.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I’ve seen idols’ careers die when dating scandals come out. But at the same time, I want us to have a normal life.” You snorted. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s very sudden,” you said softly, gripping his hand with both of yours. “The Grammys are in a few weeks. We’d have to do something in the next few days.”

“I’ll tell him we’d like to wait, then.”

You hummed, tracing his hand with your index finger. “We’d be able to do it how we want?”

“That’s what Si-Hyuk-hyung said. I imagine there’s a limit, but I don’t think he’d lie about that.”

“How much of an advanced warning did he say he wanted?”

“Three days.”

Would it really be that bad? You weren’t a stranger to hate comments and wildly unfounded criticism, although not quite to the scale it might get to. Yoongi rarely looked at social media, unless he was posting a selca to Twitter. And what? You might have to private your Instagram? Delete your Twitter? Honestly, it might do you some good to get away from social media. You trusted Yoongi to not drop you the second things got tough, and there were six other members of BTS there to help lessen any damage his career might take. As long as the two of you could weather it together, you were confident that you could come out on the other side relatively unscathed.

“Fuck it.”

“What?” Yoongi’s eyes were wide.

“Fuck it. Let’s do it.” You squeezed his hand, a small smile starting to form.

Yoongi’s eyes locked on yours. He was smiling, but you could see him hesitate. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Ask PD-nim if we can do something right before they send out their release. I think it’ll go over better coming from you.”

“You’re already planning this?” It wasn’t a question. He laughed, a sweet, gummy smile spreading across his face. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do this. I’ll text Si-Hyuk-hyung and let him know.”

You watched him slide his phone out of his pocket and unlock it. “Hey Yoon?” He hummed, continuing to type for a moment before looking up at you. “We’re gonna be okay no matter what, right? Still us?”

Yoongi pulled you to him as he stood up, his arms immediately wrapping around your back to hold you close. “Don’t be silly. Of course we will be.” You felt him sigh as he tucked his chin onto your shoulder. “I can’t promise that things won’t change, but we’ll be okay.”

You hugged him, your arms around his shoulders, careful not to press too tightly on his bad one. This certainly hadn’t been where you were expecting the conversation to go when he walked out the door that morning, but you hoped he was right. Telling the fans was an important step to take--and an inevitable one, if you wanted your relationship to last. “You and me?” You pulled away slightly to look him in the eyes.

He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before resting his forehead against yours. “‘Till the end.”

Read more of the series here

[lavenderbau]

you drew stars around my scars

Photographer Elle Greenaway teams up with journalist Jennifer Jareau to expose corruption, what happens when that’s not the only thing exposed?

tw: mentions of rape, suicide, gunshot wounds/guns

words: 2.3k

ao3 link here 

story is bellow the cut!

Elle sighed. She had heard rumors about the infamous Jennifer Jareau. How she was a stuck up bitch. Elle had worked with snobby journalists before, but she’s heard that she is next level. Elle just had to make it work with her for one article. That was it. Then she would never have to see her again. This was her chance for that big break she had been searching for. Although Elle was taking a big risk with this. Fisher King & Co. was one of the biggest law firms in the country. And with this Jen- Jayje girl, they were going to expose them for corruption and bribery. It was an ambitious task, but one that fascinated Elle. If it took working with this girl to get her big break and finally leave the BAU Times and open her own photography business.

Elle was startled from her thoughts when the door opened. “Miss Greenaway you can come in,” said editor in chief Aaron Hotchner. Or as Elle called him in her head a major pain in her ass. “As you know you will be working with one of our finest. She is very talented and  not someone you want to mess with. I think you two will work well together. Don’t prove me wrong Miss Greenaway,” Hotchner continued. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it sir. Also, it’s Elle not Mrs. Greenaway.” Hotch let out one of his rare small smiles before a knock sounded on the door. 

Listen, Elle knew she liked girls. That wasn’t new, she went through the whole questioning of her sexaulity thing before. However, this wasn’t a girl. This was a woman in every sense of the word. The way her bright blonde hair framed those beautiful blue eyes. When Elle imagined what an angel looked like, it was her. The warmth and hope she seemed to radiate from her bones made Elle want to smile. Although she could see pain in those eyes she already loved so much. She was good at concealing it, but Elle recognized it. She had spent many hours in the mirror trying to erase that pain from her own eyes. With time little blondie would stop expecting to be able to hide it. That’s what happened to her. Elle thought to herself there is no way this perky blonde chick is the bitch she had heard about. If it was, Elle was certainly in for a fun time.

“Hi, you must be Elle. I'm Jayje. I'll be the journalist for this project,” JJ said while extending Elle her hand in a pleasant tone. 

“Nice to meet you JJ. So I was wanting to sit down with you and talk about what type of photos you want and what you want them to represent. I’m down to get started as soon as you are.”

Hotch cleared his throat, “Okay ladies it looks like you guys are on the right track, let me know if there is anything I can do to help.”

Both Elle and JJ nodded and left his office. 

“We can use my office to discuss this project. There is one thing you should know. This is the project I have been building my career up towards, and if you’re gonna screw this up or not handle it you can leave now. We are going after one of the biggest law firms in the country, we are going to have a target on our backs for the rest of our lives. You may just be the photographer but everyone involved in this will be experiencing backlash. Can you handle that?” JJ asked in a hard tone. Elle was impressed. She didn’t think blondie had it in her to be the major bitch she heard about. It seemed like she was wrong, which Elle rarely is. 

“I can handle it,” Elle responded in a cold voice. She wanted to prove to her that she could give back as well as she was given.

Jayje burst into a smile. “Great, I was hoping you would. I want the best of the best on this. And I heard that you were the best,” JJ said with a wink. 

Elle smirked. She was being surprised at every turn by this girl. Elle decided to test the waters, “You know what they say, only the beautiful can capture it in photos.”

Jayje let out a gorgeous laugh, “Well I’ve never heard of that saying before, but people should start saying it if you’re any indication.”

Elle smiled. This was going to be fun. 

Maybe Elle spoke too soon. She was three weeks into this project and Jayje was on a mean streak. They were having trouble finding evidence on the firm, as it was so big nobody wanted to speak out against them. Elle was getting frustrated. When they were interviewing a witness yesterday that had changed their mind on coming forward Jayje yelled at her and said that she was a disgrace. Elle agreed that the firm was off, but finding enough evidence was damn near impossible. As much as Elle hated to say it, maybe it was time to throw in the towel. 

“JJ as much as I hate to admit it, I just don’t think we have enough here to bring them down.”

JJ immediately turned to glare at the other woman. “I thought you said you could handle it? I told you this wasn’t going to be easy. You think I know we don’t have enough evidence? I have been building this article since I stepped into the BAU Times. I will do whatever it takes to finish it. If you want to go and take photos that anybody with an eye could, the door is right there. However if you want to stay on what could be the biggest breakthrough of the year I suggest you sit your ass down right now and get that attitude of yours in check. 

“You have no right to scold me like I’m a fucking teenager. Why are you so invested in this? You are destroying yourself and everyone else that you meet for this, is it worth it? Tell me will it be worth it?” Elle was flamming. However through her anger, she had to admit this was the sexiest Jayje has ever looked. Still that did not soothe Elle’s temper. 

“You don’t understand! You have no idea what I have sacrificed for this! I busted my ass every minute of my life for this! I won’t have some little no work ethic bitch tell me to stop!” Jayje and Elle were all up in each other's faces. 

“Well then make me understand!” Elle screamed back.

Honestly if you asked Elle what happened next, she wouldn’t be able to answer you. She was so shocked by what had happened that she could barely process it. The second the words left her mouth Jayje grabbed her face and pulled her lips to her. Elle pulled away at first, before kissing her back. Elle couldn’t help but notice this was one of the best kisses she’s had. Suddenly, JJ pulled away looking like a kicked puppy. Without notice she started running out of the office before Elle could stop her. With a sigh and a hand to her lips that still tasted like her strawberry lipstick, Elle packed up her things and left the office.

The next day she thought it would be full of awkwardness and ignoring each other. Hell, Elle wouldn’t be surprised if Jayje finally decided to give up on this story. What she didn’t expect was for Jayje to have a board full of evidence and pacing in her office.

“Listen Elle I’m about to tell you two things that very few people know about me. The first is that I like girls. If you couldn’t tell by me kissing you last night,” she said with a little nervous laugh that never failed to melt Elle’s heart. “And I like kissing you. I like you Elle. The past three weeks have been stressful but I’m glad it was you by my side. I like you a lot and I want to go out with you, but before I ask you I need to tell you the reason this article is so important to me. My older sister was raped. The guy who did it was rich and he got a lawyer from Fisher King & Co. to not charge him. There was a shit ton of evidence and there was no way he got off. I overheard a phone call with his lawyer offering the judge money. He was found not guilty, and I found my dead sister in a bathtub the next day. She had killed herself. She knew she wouldn’t be able to face the people in our town and him everyday. So she didn’t. And I promised myself I would not give them the satisfaction of doing what they did to my sister to anyone else.” JJ now had tears on her face. Elle’s heart broke for her. Suddenly she knew the reason for the pain those beautiful blue eyes tried to hold. 

“I have an idea,” Elle said in a low voice. “First we’re going to go on a date tonight, second we’re going to take Fisher King & Co. down to the depths of hell.”

It had been another two weeks since Elle said that. Her and Jayje were going great. They were both constantly enourmed with each other. When they weren’t making out they would be touching each other in some way. Most people would not think they had only been dating for two weeks. They did all the things a normal established couple did. Slow dancing in the kitchen together, check. Going to the movies, check. Helping the other take down a company, check. Okay so maybe not all of the things a normal couple did. But still. It was Elle and JJ. Elle lived for small little forehead kisses Jayje was obsessed with giving her. Jayje cherished the moments in the morning when Elle pulled her body closer to hers. 

Elle and Jayje had been up all night. Not for the reasons they wished, but tomorrow was when their article was being published. Elle’s photos perfectly captured everything Jayje had wanted them to say. And Jayje’s writing, goddamn that girl could write. If Elle didn’t already love the blonde, she’s pretty sure she could just through her writing. Jayje had sent Elle home telling her to get some rest. However, she did not know that Randall Garner would be there waiting for her. Elle was shocked to see the CEO of Fisher King and Co. in her girlfriend’s living room. She tried not to let the surprise show on her face, but Elle couldn’t pull her mask up fast enough. 

“Well if it isn’t Miss Greenaway. You know I am shocked to see you here, this late at night too. It looks like Miss Jareau has some explaining to do, doesn't she? You know I was going to make sure that article never sees the light of day and I think I know just the trick.” Suddenly he pulled out his gun and fired it at Elle before she could respond. The last thing she heard before she passed out was sobbing, and it sounded a lot like Jayje’s. 

When Elle wakes up the first thing she notices is the pain in her chest. The second is the sweaty hand holding hers. She opened her eyes slowly. She couldn’t tell if the drugs she was on were what made Jayje look like an angel or if she was actually in heaven. 

Jayje looks up with red rimmed eyes and the look of relief she gives Elle, makes her heart melt. “You once asked me if this article was worth it. And I was so sure it was. Falling in love with you solidified that, but it wasn’t worth it. Seeing you get hurt because of me,” Jayje took a shaky breath and had tears spilling out of her eyes, “that will never, ever be worth it. I am so sorry I did this to you.”

“Did what? Give me a woman I love? Give me the happiness I have been searching for my entire life? Because that is all you gave me. You gave me everything I wished I deserved. What is love without a few scars?”

“You’re hurt because of a mess I made, one that you knew I would. This isn’t just a few scars Elle, you almost died. I thought you were going to die. I thought I’d never give you the chance to say I love you.”

“I love you too. And this is not on you okay? This is on the man that pulled the trigger on me. Do not blame yourself for trying to help people.” Jayje let out a shaky nod, still overcome with emotions. “So how did the article do?”

This made Jayje let out a small smile. Elle could still tell she was riddled with guilt, as she was tracing stars on Elle’s hand and she recognized it as her nervous tell. “Amazing. People are writing stories about our story.” Jayje pulls out her phone and shows Elle. “Here, look at this.”

It was an article about them. It talked about how they took on Fisher King & Co. and how they fell in love.

“I wanted someone to know our story in case it was the end,” Jayje whispers. “You’ve been in a coma for the past week. The doctors weren’t sure if you were going to wake up. A reporter heard that we were together and you got shot and asked if I wouldn’t mind being interviewed. I didn’t know if you were gonna wake up so I said yes.”

“Trust me it could never be over. Jayje I love you too.” She pulled her hand to her lips, pressing a small kiss to it. And somehow even that smallest kiss sent sparks up and down them both. Huh, this is what love is, Elle thought. It wasn’t half bad.

[aquariusdeanw]

TORCHWOOD FANFICS TROPES AND STEREOTYPES

(Because lately I’ve read too many fanfics and I don’t know what to do with all that knowledge)

THE TEAM

- they never sleep apparently

- Always drinking Ianto’s coffee but at the same time always ask Ianto for coffee (?)

- When writers need some fluff to happen they use the phrase “the rift was strangely quiet that week, there was just a bunch of weevils to hunt” uh, how convenient.

- If I see another post countrycide fic istg

- Why there are so many coe fix-it and just a bunch of exit wounds fix-it?

- When a fic is post exit wounds there is always this angsty air around about hiring some new people (just write some fluffy before coe fic for my mental health please)

-The team either eats pizza or chinese, that’s it.

JACK

- he’s always horny (but that’s also in canon so idk)

- Doesn’t really pay that much attention to Gwen which is just because janto shippers are salty

- He’s either very angsty brooding on a rooftop or super happy without a reason, there’s no between

- Innuendos

- People only write about his ptsd after tytnw but never about his past :(

- If he doesn’t comment about Ianto’s suit is he really Jack?

- Goes looking for Ianto in the archives for S E X all the time

- Jumps in front of bullets for fun and Ianto is always grrrr

- “U canT unDerStanD immOrtalitY” or “I wouLd’T wiSh it On mY worsT enemy so no IANTO U CANT BECOME IMMORTAL”

- Hates paperwork, you wonder what did he do without Ianto before

TOSH

- She’s needed for checking CCTV and hacking but most of the time writers forget to characterize her :’(

- Ten times more shy around Owen than canon

- Apparently she’s Ianto’s BFF when in canon we have almost no scenes with them (I wish there were ugh)

- Pls write more about her that it isn’t in correlation with Owen or Ianto

OWEN

- I swear this man never calls Ianto by his name in fics, he only calls him Teaboy

- The phrase “He went into doctor mode” just appears whenever someone is hurt

- People forget to write him bi :(

- Owen/Ianto friendship fics are amazing and soft

- HE IS EITHER A F ASSHOLE or just a softie

- Write more about his relationship with Jack don’t forget them pls!

- Always doing some autopsies on weevils or a hoix

- Owen/Tosh in janto fics is also amazing

- He’s either Ianto’s big brother or cares about Ianto only for his coffee

- Where is his relationship with Gwen? No I don’t mean their sexual relationship, I mean their amazing friendship

IANTO

- Writers love to make him suffer (it’s me, I’m writers)

- Why does he blush so much in fics? I don’t remember him blushing that much in canon

- Apparently you haven’t tasted real coffee if you haven’t tasted Ianto’s

- The trope “Ianto’s has a secret” fic is so overdone but DAMN they’re all good so keep doing lord’s work writers

- Ianto in fics: I have a mask, I never smile, I’m a shadow.

Ianto in canon: so who wants Chinese :)? *laughs so much at the most random jokes*

- If I see one more post cyberwoman fic I’m gonna riot (also me: oh look! Post cyberwoman fic 🥰)

- Apparently this man always overworks himself and hasn’t eaten in months

- He spends so much time in the archives when in canon they rarely acknowledge his role as an archivist.

-stopwatches. that’s it.

GWEN

- Gwen bashers will invent the most crazy and ooc shit to make you hate her, when canon things she said/done are ENOUGH

- Let’s be honest when writers write her in love just with Rhys things are better (let’s not think about her I love you to Jack in S2)

- Apparently Rhys constantly cooks her amazing lasagne and she’s almost never there to eat them

- When there is Gwen/Ianto friendship I’m: 🥺

- When she actually puts her years in the police into torchwood work>>>

- She’s the mama hen of the group but is she really?

RHYS

- I love this man in fics and canon

-it’s hilarious anytime he doesn’t catch on jack/Ianto relationship

-he really loves Gwen

-he’s a saint really

JOHN

- fanon!John is usually really close to canon. Fic writers just have to decide if he’s the villain of their story or the helper.

- If he’s the villain then the other characters are literally fucked, villain!John is chaos and will shoot your favorite character

- If he’s the helper then he’s just a hornier Owen.

- Also he never calls Ianto by his name, Eye-candy is his go to.

SUZIE

- she’s a murdered, but fic writers love her. (She almost never shows up but when she does she’s probably the most interesting character in the fic)

[kazcosmo]

when sin tastes like sugar

sugawara koushi x reader

❥ warning(s); drinking of alcohol, cheating, implied nsfw

❥ word count; 1,263 words

synopsis: you’ve always been told that there are some things that are supposed to be forbidden. and you’ve heard that what isn’t allowed tasted like saccharine. you’ve always known this to be true to the extent of alcohol and cigarettes. but when you meet sugawara koushi, you realized you never really knew just how good forbidden things can taste like.

the liquid burns your throat, its bittersweet taste lingering on your tongue. the drink is a distraction and you savor the sharp tang of citrus and bourbon. you haven't had a good drink in months. a time span far too long for your sanity. all those forced sweetness and politeness has had you wanting to curl your hands around your neck and fucking rip your flesh apart. it was destroying you, all this pretending. you danced around people's suspicions day by day and reassured them with lies you've rehearsed a thousand times. and yet, you get a grim satisfaction upon dodging their prying questions and doubtful eyes. sometimes you wanted to laugh at their faces for how utterly easy they were to fool. you should've been an actress instead of working as a nurse with countless late-night shifts that had you waking up at ungodly hours. your work yet another reason why you relished each sip and cradled the burn and flavor of the alcohol. but that wasn't all. a grimace makes its way onto your pretty face, curling your drunk features into a look of distaste. no, it wasn't the drink-- the thing was practically liquid heaven-- it was something else. or rather, someone else. the drink sloshes almost lazily as you twirl the glass with your hand in a circular motion, ice cubes making a soft noise as it clinks with your cup. your mind wanders into a hazy daydream filled with hazel-brown eyes and soft gray hair that bordered on white paired with a seemingly innocent smile. facial features better suited to an angel. your thoughts go uninterrupted even as the music blares across the packed room filled with bodies dancing to the rhythm of the music and to the melody of each other. you continue twirling your drink dreamily, soft sighs slipping past your lips. hands ghost along your back, sending shivers down your spine. your vivid dreams fall and you turn to see the very face stuck to your mind just seconds ago. "koushi." you breathe, mouth tilting into a small smile. he sits down on the stool beside you, a similar smile on his face as the two of you ignore the thrum of music across the bar. this part of the place was rarely occupied by anybody who wanted to immerse themselves into the beat, they wouldn't be able to, really. considering that the speakers were a good distance away from the spot, the music low enough for both of you to hear each other without yelling at the top of your lungs. a few linger in the farthest corner of the club, either making out or doing business you know better than to stick your nose to. your eyes scan his appearance, mouth going dry as he graces you with his presence, body fitted into a long-sleeved shirt, two buttons undone. he wore black pants hanging loosely off his hips, looking like a goddamned meal in the process. you squirm in your seat, disguising the action as you trying to pull the skintight dress further below your thighs. "it's been a while," he says, gesturing for the bored bartender for a drink. you try hard for your eyes not to linger too long at his figure, staring at the glass of forgotten alcoholic drink like it was the most fascinating thing you've seen in weeks. you let loose of the tension on your shoulders, acting nonchalantly, sipping at the drink which now tasted bland on your tongue. "We don't exactly have the most flexible schedules koushi." you remind him, your statement eliciting a small chuckle from him. you whip your head towards him and drink in the image as he receives the drink from the bartender who is happy to move away from your conversation. you take everything in before he looks up and catches you staring. he had the habit of moving the glass in a circular motion just like what you did before, the action originally from him which you've mimicked during the numerous times the two of you had gone out for a drink. your gaze moves from his lips down to the exposed skin of his neck and you stiffen slightly. barely hidden underneath the collar of his shirt was a mark of red; lipstick stains, you echo in your head. a scoff nearly escaped from your mouth. of course, how could you ever forget? this angelic man in front of you wasn't yours. nor were you his. the feeling of guilt settles into your stomach, its presence no longer bothering you. you were used to it anyways. you turn away from him as he looks up, "and yet somehow we make it work better than we do with our beloved significant others." he lets out and you can't help but snicker at his words. whereas you could barely make time for your boyfriend, you manage to sneak a meeting with sugawara koushi into your already tight schedule. whereas he could barely remember the exact date of their anniversary, he could remember every little insignificant detail about that night you spent with him, driving around town and doing nothing at all. there was just something so beautifully sinful the way you two lied to everybody, safe behind the fog of false words and even faker smiles. alone, unbothered, unburdened- whole. "god, sometimes I forget you're not mine." you sigh, a slow smirk spreading across your face. there was something in your eyes, a flicker of sadness that pierced through your mask of indifference. the emotion so fleeting he barely catches sight of it. his chest tightens, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. but if there was anyone better at lying than you, it was him. so he matches your smirk and drops his voice to a playful drawl. "that's what this is for, y/n, for forgetting everything for one night."

your eyes flutter open, your vision greeted by his face. still sleeping. there’s affection in your smile, something you barely let him see, then your eyes flicker downwards, meeting toned chest pressed against yours. and still naked, apparently. you roll your eyes, having long outgrown being embarrassed after countless times of waking up to this.

and even if you lost count of exactly how many times the same face has greeted you as you woke up, you know you’ll never get tired of it. why else would you keep coming back for more even when you knew you shouldn’t be?

to you, sugawara koushi was a drug.

and you were the addict incapable of doing anything but to want-- no, need-- more of him.

and so you do. even if it was in secret. hushed meet-ups with the seconds counted and constantly running down to zero, always running out of time, fleeting gazes in public, and the rare brush of a hand around others was what you could afford without risking anything more than what you’re both already putting in line.

in his case, a close friend.

in yours, an engagement.

when his own eyes open he’s never greeted by your sleeping features. it’s always you picking up the purse you brought with you last night to his apartment, fitted in the same clothes he’d taken off of your body hours ago. he's never been given a "good morning". it was always, always a chaste kiss to his lips, a bittersweet goodbye, and one that he'll never get used to, a goodbye that still brings him a plethora of pain that mirrored your own.

but he doesn't stop you, and you don't stay.

as you turn the doorknob behind you, you let out a weary sigh,

daichi really shouldn’t have introduced who he said he was gonna make his best man.

❥ a/n; sorry this was rushed! i have a massive case of writer’s block so i’m probably gonna revisit this and rewrite it bcs it just ain’t it for me atm

[chat-noir-always-here]

“Hey Arnold!” and “Miraculous!” parallels

Ever have an idea for a post that you take forever to get around to because 2020 is 

actively 

trying

to kill you?!

 Welp, that’s me. I mean, uh, this is that post.

Long post is long and I don’t like cuts cuz I’ve lost a few posts in the past using them. Please filter the tag “long post” I use it for walls of text like these.

So there’s this show from my childhood called Hey Arnold! 

Having been on air before I had cable (I and my unsupervised brothers and sisters spent our childhood watching Jerry Springer and Maury because there was literally nothing else on our cheap little TV. How hilarious is that?) I didn’t really have much of an experience with Hey Arnold! aside from brief little glances at it when i visited a friends home or the rare occasion where they showed cartoons at school. By the time I got satellite, the show was no longer on the air save for some late night reruns and the Christmas special which aired in December along with other Nickelodeon Christmas episodes (THE best Christmas episode EVER btw).

Really I couldn’t remember much about it until hearing about the Jungle Movie finally getting a release date (a total flop but at least its no cliff hanger) and decided to re-watch the entire series in preparation for said movie.

By which point I had discovered another show—Miraculous. 

At first glance the two shows have absolutely nothing in common. Miraculous being a French-born mahou shoujo-esque CGI superhero TV series about a couple of middle schoolers who regularly battle a walking peppermint-frappucino-looking psychopath. Hey Arnold! being a more realistic children’s sitcom about a young football-headed boy who deals out humanitarian aid in the form of advice and simple good deeds to his neighbors, classmates and friends. 

In terms of setting, logic, and animation the two series are as different as night and day.

So imagine my pleasant surprise to discover a whole post’s worth of parallels shared between the two shows???

And here they are in no particular order:

1)Arnold’s Parents/Adrien’s mom

Prior to the start of Miraculous, Emilie Agreste disappeared under mysterious circumstances leaving her family behind. Later on it was revealed that she was in fact sleeping (dead?) in a glass coffin beneath the Agreste mansion--unbeknownst to Adrien, or anyone else in Paris save for Gabriel and Nathalie.

In a similar fashion, Arnold’s parents, Miles and Stella, also disappeared prior to the start of Hey Arnold! and like Emilie were always referred to as “missing” rather than “dead.” 

The Jungle Movie later revealed Miles and Stella weren’t dead, but like Emilie appears to be doing in her coffin, they were sleeping. Having caught a bout of sleeping sickness (apparently they do not need to be hooked up to IVs or other medical devices while in a comatose state cuz fuck logic) they simply needed their orphaned son to come and cure them with the help of the magical golden heart Helga provided him with.

Perhaps Mari holds the key to waking Emilie? That would be nice to see. 

Not the miraculous of course--but some other key.

Although personally I’m hoping for a hardcore, devastating ending like Emilie dying, Gabriel going to prison where he belongs, and Adrien leaving the country for a bit until the second Hawk Moth shows up because I just like devastating cliffhangers and angst and being in utter turmoil over fictional people. But that’s just me.

2) Their best friends are dating

Smol parallel here: Arnold’s best friend Gerald and Helga’s Best friend Phoebe wind up together in The Jungle Movie after being imprisoned together by Lasombra. Similar to how Nino and Alya ended up together after being imprisoned by Ladybug (for their protection, of course).

3) The Bag of Money Episode/ The Ladybug episode

OOh boy both of these episodes make me rage. 

Some context about the Bag of Money episode: Arnold and his friends Gerald and Sid find a random bag of money containing almost $4000. Sid is ecstatic and wants to split the money evenly between the three boys, but Arnold worries it could just be lost and convinces them to let him, Arnold, take the money to the police station. On the way he accidentally switches the bag with another one that is identical and contains a bunch of useless junk, and when he tries to explain what happened to his friends they don’t believe him because their bag of money was accidentally taken by an “old lady with pink hair and a peg leg.”

 Arnold’s a good boy and he’s telling the truth--but the truth sounds crazy, even to my ears. Sid accuses Arnold of stealing the money and spreads lies to their classmates, whom Arnold has spent the ENTIRE SERIES helping in some form or fashion. Despite everything he’s done for them though, the vast majority of the class come to believe Arnold is a thief. Even Gerald, Arnold’s closest friend, nearly believes Sid over Arnold but eventually comes to Arnold’s defense. The other kids (save for Helga who doesn’t really make an appearance this episode) gang up on Arnold, but thankfully the old lady with pink hair and a peg leg shows up with an officer and together they explain the bag of money is now at the lost and found where it will remain and if gone unclaimed will be returned to Arnold, Gerald and Sid. 

Pretty much everything is resolved and things return to normal between the kids. 

But I hate this episode. I hate this episode so, so much. Arnold has spent the entire series helping these people out in some form or fashion. Literally thats the entire show. And after everything he’s done for them they’re so. Quick. To. Turn. On. Him. 

Sound familiar???

4) Hidden Personality                   vs.          Surface Personality

 I do not refer to the cruddy “true selves” thing half the Miraculous fandom believes in. Depending on one’s individual circumstances, environment and how comfortable they are, said person’s behavior can fluctuate or even do a complete 180. This can be kinda frustrating when dealing on one’s own--”Who am I anyway? Is that me or is this me???”

It’s all you, fam.

Arnold and Helga are themselves too, no matter what metaphorical/actual mask they put on. There’s the side that everyone sees and then there’s the side almost no one sees. The hidden personality isn’t hidden due to a lack of trust, necessarily, but rather it is the result of retreating to their respective “shells”--ones which both Arnold and Helga were kinda punched, kicked, and shoved into. 

Helga’s surface personality: Class bully, puts up a tough front, constantly torments Arnold because she can’t stand him and his niceness

Helga’s hidden personality: Poetic, abused and isolated, is in love with Arnold to the point of being obsessed with him and bullies him via surface personality in order to hide that fact

Of course Adrien is no bully--his reasons for not being the “cunning, funny, ultra-charming Chat Noir” 24/7 DOES have a lot to do with his toxic household, his dad, and the overwhelming expectations which are constantly smothering him as Adrien. 

Adrien is a bug under a magnifying glass (or so he feels)

Chat Noir is a chance for a freedom.

 Adrien’s surface personality was molded by his dad.

 Helga’s is the result of her entire family. Her father is brash and loud, her mother is a confirmed alcoholic, her sister is a gifted prodigy, well-rounded and spends most of the series at university or elsewhere. Although her sister, Olga, has been shown to genuinely care for Helga, Olga is kinda the reason their parents neglect Helga. With their first daughter being the genius and prodigy she is, Helga’s parents poured all of their pride and affection and parental devotion onto her. Meanwhile Helga had to walk to pre-school alone. At four years old. In the rain. Not for the last time. 

Which leads me to the next parallel.

5) Umbrella in the Rain

squeals in delight over this parallel<3<3<3

If you’ve never seen Hey Arnold! do yourselves a favor and watch this short little clip over how Helga and Arnold first met. If you have seen it, watch it anyway because it is the most adorable clip in the entire show.

Dr. Bliss: “So nobody’s ever noticed you?”

Helga: “...There was someone.”

The soft way Helga confesses that--you can actually hear how grateful she is to have such a tender memory from such a painful time. 

 In a similar manner, Adrien offered his umbrella to Marinette. Of course Adrien did it because Mari had to walk home in the rain and Arnold did it as a simple gesture of kindness (seeing as they were already at the school)--one of the many kind acts he displays throughout the series. 

 But just like Adrien needed unconditional love coming from somewhere, so did Helga. They were both denied this one common necessity which everyone else around them had. It’s not a lot to ask for, and they should’ve already had it coming from their families--but they didn’t.

 And then, one rainy day, there it was--the unconditional love they needed.

6) Clinginess

What happens when you take someone, specifically a love-starved abused child from an unstable home environment--deprived of the one thing most crucial to their mental well-being--and miraculously provide them with that very necessity? 

Clinginess. 

I can’t really think of the correct word to describe this. “Clinginess” is pretty close to what I’m trying to describe, if not on point, so let’s go with that. 

 What I mean is Helga and Adrien both need Arnold and Ladybug respectively. That’s not a bad thing--it’s okay to need somebody else. What’s bad is hinging your entire being on this one connection. For if either kiddo were to be left behind they wouldn’t handle it very well.

 It can’t really be helped with either Helga or Adrien. They didn’t really have the option to learn certain things and went deprived of unconditional love for such a long time. They’re kids--nine and fourteen/fifteen respectively. They’re not perfect and they’re traumatized for life. Being denied love from your family--the very people designed to love you--would do that to a person. Naturally they would cling to the first people to show up and provide them with the love they needed. 

 The Hey Arnold! wiki says this about Helga and Arnold’s relationship

Due to her unstable family upbringing where both her mother and father constantly neglect [Helga] and shower all of their attention onto Olga, leaving her deprived of the love and attention she needed growing up. On her way to preschool, Arnold helped her by keeping the rain off her with an umbrella and even complimented her on her hairbow. He even later gave her crackers during their snack time. Arnold's kindness and being the first person to notice her quickly caused Helga to transfer all of her love and attention to Arnold.

Of course Adrien’s tunnel vision isn’t quite as bad as Helga’s.

 He treats his friends better.

 He does love his father--

Even though his father is THE. 

WORST.

 PARENT.

 EVER!!!

--because he’s Adrien and he’s just too precious a cinnamon roll and that’s still his dad even if the man does belong behind bars.

7) Unhealthy Obsession

I--

I...

Ugh. I am not going to delve too far into this. You’re just going to have to take my word for it. Helga’s creepy stalker behavior is a thousand times worse than Marinette’s. That pic up there of Helga hiding out in Arnold’s room watching him is pretty decent evidence to back up my argument, but it’s hardly the only example or even the worst incident.

 Honestly I’m amazed at what Nicktoons were able to get away with in the late nineties/early 2000s. 

But yes, Helga’s obsession with Arnold is rather unhealthy in the most extreme moments leading her to display behavior which is more often than not disturbing and concerning. 

The Hey Arnold! wiki has this to say about Helga’s obsession with Arnold

Helga is possessive of her love for Arnold and thinks non-stop about him to the point of obsession. This is evidenced throughout the series by the many shrines and poems she makes of Arnold and of her frequent dramatic soliloquies about her love for Arnold.

Again--Mari isn’t as bad as all that. She’s a sweet girl with many healthy relationships in her life. She has ambition, creativity, and drive. But yeah she can be rather possessive of Adrien too, and that needs to stop. Like right now. Adrien doesn’t need another girl being possessive of him and thinking he’s perfect--he needs someone who acknowledges him as a flawed person and loves him despite that. 

As for Helga and Arnold--show creator Craig Bartlett confirmed they are “made for each other” and wind up married with three kids, so I’m guessing Helga grew out of some of these bad habits? Or at least I hope so...

8) Helper/Humanitarian tendencies

As mentioned before, the plot of Hey Arnold! is more or less about Arnold helping people. As stated by Gerald in The Jungle Movie, “He’s a humanitarian! Like his parents!” Of course not every episode is about Arnold helping people. There are episodes devoted to supporting characters and they’re just as enjoyable and satisfying. 

 But as he is the titular character he spends a lot of time in the spotlight. 

Remember that “best christmas special EVER” episode I mentioned before?

 The reason it’s the best special, in my less than humble opinion, is due to a few things.

 The special is not about Santa Claws. In fact, I don’t think he’s even mentioned, let alone shown and treated like an actual living character.

The focus on the entire episode is again on Arnold helping someone, but he doesn’t succeed. Not really.

The one who succeeded in helping someone was Helga, who accomplished the goal Arnold had set out to do. 

The episode deals with some rather dark subject matter and is actually quite heartwarming as the “perfect present” Arnold was trying to provide someone with wasn’t something you can buy in the store

It’s also one of the episodes where Helga’s love for Arnold leaves her to do good and as her love for him is a secret, she expects nothing in return. She’s just happy to help him.

 Kinda similar to Mari who is, as Adrien puts it in Mayura, “Our every day Ladybug.” Her kindness and devotion to helping others is what drives her as Ladybug and Marinette. It’s what brought Ivan and Mylene together. Is the reason Nathaniel and Mark now have a comic book together. And at the end of the day, that’s the reason for her strange behavior around Adrien--she wants to help him. Even if it’s just as a “good friend.” 

9) There are two main characters

Although Hey Arnold! is technically a show about Arnold, one could argue it is just as much Helga’s story. 

Similarly, Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir is named thusly in order to convey the fact that Adrien is just as much a main character as Marinette is. 

Although I must say Hey Arnold! did a much better job of giving it’s co-character their dues. GIVE. ME. MORE. CHAT NOIR. FOCUSED. EPISODES. DAMMIT.

But, yes, in terms of screen time, Helga gets about as much as Arnold does. Her story and struggles were given just as much importance as Arnold’s and many people have even come to believe that the show is really about Helga. I’d say its about both of them.

10) Constantly bumping into each other

Granted this happens between Arnold and Helga more often than it does to the love square dorks. 

 But yes the two people meant to be together keep knocking into each other in their respective universes. 

 I forget who, but I remember reading that someone a while back theorized that this was the universe’s way of trying to push Arnold and Helga together. Kinda like the “Now kiss!” meme

Perhaps it’s the same for Adrien and Marinette? 

;)

[havertzgalaxy]

Deep Orange - Kai Havertz fanfiction (Chapter One)

A/N: First part of a series I hope to continue. Title is still uncertain for me so this is kind of a place holder. This is a little bit of a dark tale, but I love the idea of Kai in a darker role. If you enjoyed it please give it a like or anything so I know to keep writing! I have a lot more to say about this story :) 

Warnings: Alcohol, drug use, swearing, sexual references 

Summary: Kai Havertz, a rising star in the football world, has just moved to London and he's off to a rocky start. After agreeing to go to a party with one of his old friends from high school, he meets Katrin Hummels, a mysterious, German musician who has lived in the UK for over a decade. Katrin flirts with Kai at this party, and he reveals that he is in a committed relationship. Nevertheless, Kai is heavily intrigued by her and the two quickly become friends. As Kai balances his career and his relationship, Katrin invites him out constantly to parties and clubs, which distract him from his important life goals. Soon, Kai finds himself on a downwards, drunken spiral of addiction and on a collision course with Katrin.

Available here on Tumblr, but here is the link for the fic on wattpad incase anyone prefers to read stories there: https://www.wattpad.com/1094322435-deep-orange-chapter-one 

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

Chapter 1 

Let me start with the night I first met Katrin. Now, it seems odd to even think about a time before Katrin had a poisonous grip on my life, and there really isn’t anything in my life worth reciting before her. It was a quiet week in between matches in the Premier League and I had off for seven days, which was rare. I was invited to an evening out with a friend from high school who was studying in London at the time. Hesitantly, I accepted, but made it clear to myself that this was not a friend I would like to hang out with regularly. I mostly accepted to please my mother who had been pressing me to find friends from my previous life so I would eventually return home. So I called up my mother and told her I was finally meeting Leo Sauer. The most German German I had ever known moved to London. And I was meeting with him. 

I had never thought of Leo as a wild card. He pretty much stuck to the rules. A good German boy got good grades and excelled in athletics, but this German boy had blossomed out of the rulebook. Suddenly Leo was a stoner philosophy student with connections to an underground intelligentsia-creative scene, a world woefully unfamiliar to myself. I have had so few nights out in my life, due to the demands of my rigorous football schedule, but I always accepted that absence in my life as a necessary sacrifice. It was not something I ever thought I would miss as I aged, especially if I had a World Cup in my hands. But my first memories of regret started as I took a cab out to the party. I noticed the way the signs on the businesses had a fading and mesmerizing glow, like there was a specific quality of the night that was turning everything neon forever. The air was orange, then it turned red. I thought to myself how odd it felt to go out to a place where I was specifically going to socialize. 

And these feelings worsened when I arrived at the party. I was way out of my element.  I began contemplating my own death as I walked through the doorway at a frustratingly overpriced two story flat in South London. I wondered what such an eccentric party was doing in a rather lame neighborhood, and why it was heavily decorated with memorabilia from India. As I turned each corner I passed another Ganesh, another Vishnu, Brama, until I was greeted with an overwhelming scent of incense and marijuana. The house was very dimly lit and seemed to be decorated in a frantic rush for a party, with multicolored christmas lights sufficing as lighting in long and dark stretches of the house. In one corner there was a red lamp without a lamp shade that provided an intense source of light that you couldn’t look at for two long. The entire house was pulsating to a dull bass line that rather confused me and as I breathed in the display of punk, artistic, and heavily braided London set, I quickly scanned the room for Leo and immediately joined forces with him, promising to myself that I would not to leave his side for the rest of the night. 

“King Kai!” Leo gasped. He reached out his hand and pulled me in for a hug. “I didn’t think you’d make it, man!” 

I switched to German, feeling uncomfortable and vulnerable for the moment in English. “Leo, bro, you look great.” I shuddered at my own words, did I usually sound this stupid? I never have this lack of confidence, what was going on with me? 

“Jasmine, this is my friend Kai.” Leo turned to a beautiful girl sitting beside him. She had her hair fixed behind a vintage bandana and wore large and thick gold hoop earrings. “Kai, this is Jasmine. Her parents usually live with her, but she’s had a free house since last Tuesday. She studies philosophy as well with me at UCL.” 

“Nice one! I’m Kai,” I extended my hand to her, suddenly overly aware of my accent. 

“So great to meet you, Kai. Leo’s been mentioning how he has another friend in London. What are you doing here?” Jasmine revealed a thick London accent, or what I presumed to be one. 

I was puzzled as to why she did not know what I was doing in London, but I responded quickly, “I play with Chelsea Football Club. Sort of recently moved to London, it’s been about three weeks so far.” 

“You’re fucking with me!” Jasmine threw her head back in laughter. 

“No, no. He’s actually totally serious.” Leo replied coldly. 

“Oh no way! That’s wicked, man. I don’t think I ever met anyone on my sixth form’s football team, let alone Chelsea. I don’t give a fuck about football, but I hope your team does well now.” Jasmine cackled some more and Leo cracked open a beer quietly. “I actually don’t think you’re gonna meet anyone at this party who cares about football.” 

Leo looked around and tensed his face awkwardly. 

I smiled and retorted, “I think that’s a good thing!” 

Jasmine darted up from her seat to reconnect with a girl who had arrived apparently called “Therese.” And suddenly Leo and I were momentarily alone. After an awkward silence between us Leo pressed me about my life. I asked him about his, and we spoke on and off about our past life back in Germany. 

For the next thirty minutes, Leo continued to introduce me to a staggering amount of substance-abusing artists, unemployed twenty-two year olds, or trust-funded humanities students. Thinking quickly, I introduced myself as another philosophy student from Germany. I didn’t want to repeat the same conversation I had with Jasmine again. Although they questioned why I couldn’t have a bump of ket or a hit off a joint. After pretending to be someone I was not, I felt nervous. My palms were sweaty and my shirt felt tight. I wondered whether I actually passed off as someone from this corner of society, or if I looked like an outsider. 

“Leo,” I turned to my only friend at this party. “I think I should go before someone takes a picture of this and sends this to my manager. I shouldn’t be at a party with anything illegal.” 

“Kai, if someone takes a picture of you at this party and does something like that they’d never be invited to anything ever again.” Leo explained, “This is a very moral group of people. They’ve certainly had more than enough time to think about their values.” Leo responded with a quick joke. “Just let loose. Tonight might be your last night of this kind of freedom.” 

So I ran across the street with a mask on in an anonymous pursuit of a Best-One and bought as many beers as I possibly could, deciding to get rip-roaring drunk. Something I had not really experienced properly in my life before that night. I returned to hide my beers in a bookshelf upstairs, downed three beers in a row with Leo, and talked to as many people as possible claiming I was this philosophy student of German philosophers. When they tried to talk to me about philosophy I just bullshitted my way through the conversation and we all laughed together. They were too high, I was too drunk. Nothing mattered. None of us were on the same page anyway. The alcohol hit me like a bullet train and I laughed and laughed at the fact that I was finally wasted. Everything felt like a dream. 

In my drunken stupor I could hardly recognize the couch from the floor, although I delicately found the last available place on a couch in the upstairs hallway of the flat. I don’t remember properly reflecting on why there was a couch in a hallway, there just was and I accepted that. Upstairs, the music was slightly softer, and it sounded like it was made years ago and was playing out of an old stereo. Although the upstairs music was struggling to make itself heard over the louder computer-made music coming from downstairs. Deep in my philosophical contemplation over the music, I forgot how my legs and depth perception worked, and I stumbled onto the couch, nearly spilling over my beer onto a girl on my way down. 

“Entschuldig-” I began in German, quickly correcting myself and forgetting how to speak English under the influence, “ah, fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” 

Short dark brown hair, a fading tan, big brown eyes with heavy eye makeup, and slightly crooked teeth turned to me at once declaring back in German, “You’re very drunk.” She locked eyes with me deeply. She was direct. Holy shit. “I don’t think we’ve met.” 

“Wow, you speak German as well?” I held her gaze for moments more before feeling something too intense. “I mean,” I stuttered, “I’m Kai. I just moved here a few weeks back.” 

“I’m Katrin.” She smiled wide and took a long sip of her drink. “Of course I speak German.” 

“Of course you speak German? Not every random stranger speaks German.” I teased, leaning my head back against the wall to stop the room from spinning out of control. 

“I’m not every random stranger.” She smacked her lips and leaned back. She had a low, husky voice. A voice that had clearly been weathered by smoking and yelling. Even if her lifestyle choices were made apparent through her voice there was something about this woman that was puzzling me in a wonderful way. She had long intense stares and big brown eyes that powered them. She spoke sharply and lit a joint. I drunkenly inhaled her smoke. “I think I recognize your face. I think you play for Chelsea.” 

Something inside me broke. I freaked out that she had some kind of power over me, as if she was threatening to blow my cover. She stared deeply at me as my lips fumbled to create a response. I raised my eyebrows in shock. Slowly I slurred a response. “Do you watch football?” 

“Not if I don’t have to.” Katrin laughed, she quickly changed expression and replied. “Sorry, I don’t mean to insult.” 

“Nah, I’m not insulted. I think the majority of the world would agree with me that it’s a sport worth watching.” I retorted fast, feeling my breath hot in my throat suddenly. In the other room I could hear some large bouts of laughter and the music changing at irregular intervals. Someone must have been skipping through songs. 

“Let’s just say you win that argument then.” She cooed. “But I must tell you...I’m only lying.” She giggled, “I didn’t even know what Chelsea was until my friend, Jasmine, told me about an hour ago that another German was here. She told me that you play football here or something. And then she was like, ‘no one's gonna recognize him here’ and I was like, ‘as I German maybe I will, is he famous?’ So we googled you and we were like what the fuck. This dude is famous as shit.” 

“Clearly not that famous.” I gestured around the room to the slew of preoccupied people, but quickly returned my gaze back to Katrin. I was utterly transfixed. Each word out of her mouth weighed heavy on my mind. Was she telling the truth? What was her story? She was a challenging conversation, making me nervous for no reason, “We don’t have to talk about that football shit. We don’t even have to talk in German.” I paused and burped. The room was spinning. I felt myself losing control of my reserve. “Sorry I’m quite drunk.” 

“You’re not the only one.” She smiled and lifted up her small bottle of cheap vodka. 

“I...I don’t usually drink. I’m not really allowed.” 

“Not allowed?” Katrin raised her eyebrows. “Says who?” 

“It’s part of my job. I’m not supposed to be rebellious, I’m supposed to be a role model.” I added nervously. 

“You’d be a much better role model if you broke some rules.” She poured a large amount of vodka into her cup before mixing it with a little bit of soda. “Fuck, you’d be my role model.” 

“You’re a rule breaker? That’s not very German of you.” I took a long swig of my beer after I spoke. She stayed silent so I spoke quickly, “Why are you in London anyway?” 

She put her hands in between her face and wiped her hair back, composing herself. “I was forced to move here from Bavaria when I was twelve. My dad got a job in London and the whole family moved except my older brother who seems to get out of everything. Forced to learn English when I was thirteen, forced to go to university, make my parents proud. Then I dropped out. It wasn’t for me. Now I’m what you call a ‘soundcloud musician.’” She explained, “And I’m also what you’d call a lifeguard for a leisure centre near me.” 

“That’s a lot to unpack.” I let out a loud laugh. 

Katrin did not respond right away to me and this freaked me out. I wondered if I said the wrong thing, maybe I should have responded with some compassion and sympathy. Surely she was looking for a more in depth conversation, something which she might find with the intellectual class around us, I was just merely a guy she struck up conversation with because he almost spilled cold beer all over her. Where did I put the rest of my beers, anyway? 

Before my thoughts spiralled off any further, she spoke again. “You have the most unusual face I’ve ever seen.” She touched my cheek with the tips of her fingers and my skin burned. As she moved her fingers across my face, her eyes flared and her pupils dilated. “Like you weren’t born on this planet.” 

Her words sent shivers down my whole body and penetrated deep into my soul. Why was she touching me? What did she mean by any of this? Do I look ugly to her? I felt awkward by her comments, so I laughed nervously and asked suddenly, “What kind of music do you make?” 

Before she could reply, the song had changed to something I couldn’t quite hear and she shouted out, “You fuckers! Turn this shit off!” She turned to me, grabbed two beer cans in her hands, dangling the joint in between her fingers, and did a dance, “I’m sorry, Kai, I’ve got to go make these idiots turn off my music before everyone with a brain leaves this party... But come to my show on Friday and you can see what kinda music I make.” 

“Where is it?” 

“Islington Assembly Hall. 7pm.” She leaned over, and I watched her lips grow closer to mine before she stopped, and whispered, “I wish I could stay longer and talk. I haven’t met anyone this captivating to me in a while… You’re a troubled soul and I can sense that. And God do I wanna fuck you.” 

Her words had floored me so much I could hardly reply, but I mustered, “Unfortunately I am already spoken for.” 

“That’s a shame. I think we were in love in a past life.” She winked, pulled back her intoxicating scent, walked off with a spring in her step before shouting back, “See you Friday!” 

As she left I felt time moving more slowly for the first time in my life. I felt a sense of impending doom, while simultaneously feeling an inexplicably intense ecstasy. I knew from the moment I met her, Katrin was a ticking time bomb. For the rest of the night I stayed on the couch in the upstairs hallway at a party in a forgotten corner of London, completely transfixed.

[mental-dilemma]

A Quick Meeting Part 4?

Damian’s an exchange student in Paris taking it easy until an Akuma attacks and he gets to meet ladybug. -----------------------------------------

Ok before everyone starts pancking: I am Emu-Lumberjack I just decided to create a Sideblog for all my writing so that way those who follow me exclusively for that don’t have to deal with the chaos that is my main blog

also I’m sorry it’s taken so long to post this but just between school and work and school and just general exhaustion it’s been hard for me to write.

and as always all credit to the Au goes to @ozmav 

pt.1 

pt. 2

pt. 3

“I don’t suppose I could bribe you to drop the matter.” Damian said sitting down in Tim’s office. He and Ladybug were situated next to each other while Tim was on the other side of the desk.

“Nope.” He turned to Ladybug, “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself, making sure Damian didn’t disappear and all that. Anyway I’m Tim Drake, Co-Ceo of Wayne enterprises and Damians older brother.”  

Ladybug turned to Damian and quietly said, “So does everyone in your family constantly talk like they’re trying to impress a victorian lord?” Damian snorted. Tim, unable to hear what she just said, looked to the two agape.

“At least I have a reason.” Damian responded, this time loudly enough for his elder brother to hear. “Anyway Tim is in CEO mode right now, which is pretty rare. Usually he’s a bumbling zombie dependent on coffee to function. In fact I remember one time when Dick took the last cup he----”

“I’d suggest stopping right there or I’ll tell her about the batcow incident.” Tim interrupted.

 “Did you just say batcow? Because I understand each of those words separately.” Ladybug said, and even though her mask still concealed half her face Damian could tell she was really confused.

“Don’t ask. Just don’t.” Damian said quietly.

“Anyway. I never caught your name and considering the fact that your in a mask I assume you’re a hero. Which is surprising because none of us knew Paris had heroes.” Tim cut the two of them off before more could be said.

“Yes that’s becoming a common theme I’m finding,” Marinette began. “My name is Ladybug in the mask. I have a partner, Chat Noir, but he’s currently indisposed, something about paint in his hair.” Damian stifled a laugh as Marinette continued, “We have been operating out of Paris for the last few years, early on we tried contacting the Justice league but Green Lantern told us not to prank call him.”

“Oh did he now.” Tim said, leaning his head forward.

“Yes he did. Thankfully my power allows me to reverse all damage done during a fight. Including any lives lost or monuments destroyed.”

“That sounds like a very useful power. I'm sure that the heroes of Gotham would love to work with you.” There was a twinkle in his eye that Damian knew meant Tim was concocting some scheme. He was about to jump in, but Marinette got there first.

“Yes I’m sure you would but the issue is we currently have our hands full here although from what Damian told me you guys sound much more fun to work with. At least the villains have better costumes.”

Tim noting her wording turned to Damian, “Did you tell her the family secret? You know what Alfred will do if he finds out.”

Damian smirked “I’m not an idiot Drake this was all her. She could rival you for deductive reasoning.” Marinette just sat there looking innocent.

“Well that explains why the two of you were sneaking around together, Ladybug should I assume Damian knows your identity as well?”

“Yep.”

“Well this is going to be a nightmare. But this just means  I can formally invite you to Gotham at least. Ha just leave it to the Ice Prince to leak the identity on his first civilian trip abroad.” Tim leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

“Actually it was you guys who tipped me off.”

Tim suddenly opened his eyes and looked her straight in the eyes. “Come again.”

“Well it was the fact that no one had spied Robin around Batman while Damian was in France. Then the fact that you were patrolling rather than him tipped me off that Robin might be on a vacation..” Tim just face palmed.

“Of course that would happen, how did we not see it coming.” He muttered to himself. “Wait, that begs another question: how did you two meet.”

Damian blushed and before Ladybug could respond he said “not important, there was an akuma. Now do you need anything else.”

“Actually yeah. Ladybug you mentioned the video you sent to Green Lantern, well Batman found it and wanted us to investigate. He didn’t know Green Lantern had seen it or otherwise he’d be on his way back to Ooa healing from a scolding from Alfred. Dick and Jason wanted to come but Bruce needed someone he could send discreetly and who better than the Co-CEO of Wayne industries who could just be checking up on the Paris branch.” Ladybug was impressed by the scheming having Dick Greyson or Jason Todd come in would stir up villain or media activity but Tim the third son wouldn’t.

“Well if you want we can meet up with my partner later and you can formulate a list of questions. Plus it seems you and Damian have some catching up to do.”

“There was a reason I came to Paris Ladybug. Being forced to talk to Tim was not one of them.” Damian made to leave only for a yoyo to catch his leg. Ladybug smirked at him. “Maybe a five minute chat couldn’t hurt anyone. Family reunion and all that.”

“Great then as long as everyones in agreement I can set up a time with chat later this evening for all of us to talk things through and get a strategy in place.”

“Are you sure about this having the league involved is going to cause a lot of chaos and even more dangerous villains could target Paris.”

“Tim I have dealt with so much crap the last couple of years that at this point I will take Darkseid over Lila…… Oh crap. We forgot about Lila.” Marinette looked at Damian who was coming to the same realization she was. He called out Lila in the bakery, and outed himself as a Wayne.

“Do I want to know?” Tim said rubbing his temples. He did not miss highschool.

“Lets just say school tomorrow’s going to be interesting, and I think we’re going to have to put the meeting on hold till after it. Ladybug and I are going to need to deal with school tomorrow, and caffeine isn’t gonna cut it.” Damian said.

“Then again if we aren’t lucid tomorrow might not be so bad….” Marinette began

“Do not even finish that, you even more than me need sleep. Between fashion, school and heroing you function off an hour.”

“You.. have a point. I’ll brief Chat on the situation on my way home. In the meantime I’ll leave you too to the brotherly bonding I’m sure you need.” she pulled her yoyo from her pocket, “See you tomorrow Damian, and whatever plan you hatch up make sure nit doesn’t include killing anyone.”

“Goodnight Ma--- Ladybug. And no promises.” The boy caught himself before revealing Ladybug's identity. She gave him the look of ‘don’t fuck up my secret identity bird boy’ before jumping out the window to run from rooftop to rooftop.

“So. how long have you had a crush on her.” Tim pulled Damians attention, and Damian was sudden;y very glad he had said nothing about not killing his brother.

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

“Do you think they’ll actually help this time?” Chat’s voice rang over the phone, Marinette had stopped behind one of the chimneys to talk to him in private.

“I don’t know, at least now they are actually considering it rather than just brushing us off as children.” Marinette was tired but they needed to have this chat now, there wouldn’t be any chance to in class tomorrow.

“Yeah, just don’t get your hopes up. They left us to fend for ourselves for 3 years and are only doing this now because of Damian if you didn’t know him then none of this would’ve happened.  

“Ok but why does that matter that it’s Damian? They could’ve been doing it because of Jon too.”

“Oh please, you're more dense than our class sometimes. Jon would’ve noted it then forgotten to tell someone, but Damian told Batman right away. Why do you think he did that?”

“Chat I am too tired for this.” Marinette could feel Adrien facepalming through the phone.

“Oh I am not spelling this out for you, this time you get to figure it out yourself.”

“Fine. but next time you need help on your calc homework don’t come running to me.” Marinette hung up on him and made her way home. The parisian streets were nice and quiet for her, no akuma meant maybe another hour of sleep.

Once she was out of the suit she let Tikki rest and got right to work on the new piece she was making for Jagged, he wanted to somehow have the score of his newest piece sewn onto the pants for his next concert, and she had to brainstorm.

Twenty minutes went by.

Then an hour.

Then two.

Finally she put up her pencil and put on her pajamas, as she was falling asleep Adriens words kept replaying in her head, and the meaning slammed into her like a truck. Pulling out her phone she sent one message.

Oh fuck off

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