#would like to go again with someone who has a list and planned route

[artemisbarnowl]

Okay so Costco was a time but I called my sister about it and now I'm like...it was fine I guess.

It's strange. Yes everything is big and there's the biggest fucking TVs I've ever seen as well as fresh fruit and Xmas ornaments and frozen fish and a whole isle of soda but the strangest thing to me (after the freaking....inflatable pool slide hanging from the ceiling which when I was in the central open part of the store felt like it was hunting me) was the organisation. There are general sections such as Food and Tech but....there's candles next to kitchen bench top appliances, snacks seem to be spread across different Isles and then also some in the central island where the clothes are. There are several freezer locations that are separate from each other and not necessarily related to whatever else in the isle. The Isles are BARELY 2 trolleys wide. With such huge trolleys turning a corner is difficult but there is not a lot of room to turn if someone is already in the isle you're turning into. No check out lines. It was just a crowd. which I hated. The car park also did not think so much about flow of traffic and while it was relatively quiet for us it was easy to see how it would be a nightmare if busier.

My friend who has a membership told me they don't have the same stuff every time??? So you're getting your once a year dishwashing liquid bucket or whatever and next time they might not have the same brand or flavour? Also this could have been a person I went with thing but things seem to move. There was one kind of seaweed snack but we were looking for a different one and we found it on a pallet near dogfood which is not normally where it lives??

There were the biggest bags of chips I'd ever seen in my life and literal tin buckets of ghee but many Big Things were actually just normal large size but they are packaged in 2 or 4s so you cannot buy 1 4litre bottle of vinegar you must buy a box of 4. The bakery onsite was surprising but as one woman who lives a lot I could not buy 26 mini pan au Chocolat for 10 dollars even though they smelled very yummy. You can order birthday cakes with lettering. They didn't even have full coffins/caskets just end pieces to show the finish/shape but they all looked cheap nasty plastic as heck. One was called the Nixon coffin which I thought was funny for tenuous reasons. Did he get buried in one like it? Was it his favourite? Do people buried in this have some semblance to him?

I got a bag of freeze dried fruit (peaches, lychees and strawberries) to share with my friend as office snacks. 100g for 15 dollars is expensive but freeze dried fruit are very light so it should go a long way. My friend also bought some mangosteen juice to try.

I stared longingly at large slabs of paneer and fior de late. Also at the 15 cents cheaper than average fuel prices. Not sure I'd go enough to actually make any savings (fuel alone would probably get my money back, but I live alone so can't buy much in bulk as a way to save). Also many things just didn't seem That Cheap. Many pantry staples were just the normalish price scaled up, like rice. Some things were cheap (6 tubes of miso ramen flavoured Pringles for 10 dollars for example) but they were often somewhat novelty so you are buying A LOT with the risk you don't like it.

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!

⊱ Those Three Words ⊰ || Mr. Silvair X Reader

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮   Character(s): Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Route End: Mr. Silver Hair 1), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and Horror-Elements), Cultural Barriers (Mr. Silvair Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Slight Angst, Pre-Established Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~3,280 Request: “Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!” Author’s Note: Mr. Silvair!!! He’s genuinely so pretty, y’all – it’s not fair. 😔 I find his overall character to be quite fascinating, and a part of me is really hoping the game gets a DLC or something to further expand on each of the character’s lore (and more moments with the MC, of course). Like game, what do you mean that some of the monsters may have been humans while others probably never were?? I desperately need more food… I headcanon that Mr. Silvair was either 1. never human, or 2. has been in the other world for a very long time, resulting in the loss of his memory as a human which could be why he’s so interested in researching them/maintaining the MC’s humanity. 🤔 But that’s just a theory – a game theory! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

��� If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

Even after everything that had happened between you and this world’s resident human-enjoyer, you surprisingly still felt at ease with Mr. Silvair. That comfortability, though, made you think hard about your sanity. After all, it probably wasn’t normal to be comfortable around someone who enjoyed taking you apart and watching your body put itself back together over and over again. Yet, you did, and you didn’t mind your current arrangement as much as you probably would have in the past. 

Mr. Silvair’s home was destroyed in a fiery explosion (courtesy of himself), so you had offered to help him find a new one. You managed to locate a large room, one that he deemed satisfactory enough to call his base, and you had been staying with him indefinitely since then. As long as you had a comfy bed to lay in and someone else to keep you company, you were happy. 

Your other friends(?) frequently stopped by as well to say hello, the most common ones being Mr. Crawling and Mr. Chopped. While you were occasionally hit with a feeling of loneliness, it was hard to feel that way with so many friendly faces around. Well… maybe their faces weren’t that friendly, but they were kind and gentle with you, and that’s what truly mattered. 

You hear the sound of Mr. Silvair moving around in the room adjacent to the one you typically stayed in, and you wonder to yourself what his plans for today are. The tall, long-haired man spent most of his time engaged in research. You didn’t see him as frequently as one would expect despite the fact you two were practically roommates. All you could do was hope he wasn’t messing around with and subsequently angering any more terrifying, violent ghosts. You enjoyed your current home, and going out to look for another one wasn’t very high on your list of things to do. 

The Rubik’s Cube in your hand was still as scattered as ever, and it seemed like, no matter how long you spent trying to solve it, you were only able to successfully complete one side. Mr. Masque was kind enough to give it to you (he apparently had a whole stash of the things somewhere), and his gift was something you were immensely grateful for. Attempting to figure out the puzzle helped you pass the time wherever you were alone (and it most likely helped you keep your head on straight). 

You’re currently lying flat on your back atop the plush bed in the relatively empty living space, looking up at the gray concrete ceiling with a blank stare. Once you decide you’ve loafed around for long enough, you stand up slowly from the bed, placing the cube gently on the covers of the cot. You stretch your arms above your head, a strangled noise coming from your throat at the movement of your stiff muscles, and you begin to make your way to the other room where your… 

What even was Mr. Silvair to you? While yes, you were fond of him – hell, you’d go as far as to say you loved him – you knew he didn’t feel the same. You remember the moment he told you “I not understand like”, and that he didn’t want to save you from your condition, no… he found you entertaining to keep around, and that’s why he did what he did. 

It was complicated, you thought, trying to have a relationship with a being who didn’t grasp what the concept of love was. Deep down, though, you knew you wouldn’t change it for the world. He enjoyed your presence, and that was all you could ask for. 

You walk over to the metal door and knock, waiting for a response. After a moment, you hear Mr. Silvair’s voice echo, “Enter.”

The door opens with a slight creak as you twist the knob, peeking your head inside the somewhat grimy space. The room, still fairly new, didn’t have as much blood or gore as his old one did. There were fresh stains on the floor and wall, you noted, and you couldn’t help but wonder who or what they were from exactly. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, though, so you didn’t bother asking. 

You grin up at the taller man and give him a small wave, saying softly, “Hello. I not bother?”

He returns your smile, placing the scalpel in his hand on the stainless steel tray that held a variety of medical tools. It looked like he was in the process of cleaning the many, typically blood-stained, pieces of equipment. Mr. Silvair turns to face you and replies gently, “Hello. You not bother. Enter.”

Tilting his head to one side, his long, silver locks move when he does, cascading down his head and slipping off his shoulder at the movement. His smile drops slightly before he asks, “Feeling unwell? Injured? Need cure?”

“No, no cure.” You quickly say, not quite in the mood to be dissected or taken apart right now (honestly, though, you never really were, even if you did understand why it needed to be done). You pause by the door before finally shutting it behind you, the both of you now alone in the private and secluded space. 

Ugh – why was it so hard to say what was on your mind??

After taking a moment to build up your confidence, you tell Mr. Silvair while fidgeting with the rubber of the clear raincoat you wore, “I want see you. Communicate.”

He hums and smiles at your admission, walking over to you before placing a calloused hand on your face. Your eyes close on instinct, and your breathing shutters when he rubs his thumb across your cheek. A part of you wanted to be annoyed with him since he had to be aware of the effect he had on you, yet you didn’t want to run the risk of him removing his cool palm from your skin, so you kept your mouth shut. 

It had taken quite some time for Mr. Silvair to get to this point of physical affection with you (something he began doing more often after he saw how much you enjoyed getting head-pats from Mr. Crawling), so you didn’t want to ruin any progress you two had made in your complicated and unconventional relationship. 

“Okay,” Mr. Silvar starts, removing his hand from your face as he gestures to one of the two chairs in the room. He smiles down at you before saying, “Sit. We communicate.”

You do as you’re told without speaking another word, your hands folded in your lap after you sit down, watching Mr. Silvair take a seat on the chair across from you. You talk with him for quite some time, doing your best to update him on your current progress with the puzzle since that was pretty much the only thing you had going on in your life. While it wasn’t satisfying to speak in the other world’s language because it tended to miss most of the nuances of speech, it was the only way the two of you could communicate. 

Mr. Silvair seemed to pick up on your frustration, seeing you were growing annoyed at the lack of words in your arsenal – the term you were looking for wasn't coming to mind. In response, he tilts his head to the side and asks you, “You upset. Why?”

“Not right words.” You reply, brows furrowed when you look up at him, your gaze landing on the bloody bandages wrapped around his eyes. You turn your head to look down at the floor, the somewhat fresh pool of blood perfectly matching the color of the Rubik’s Cube. You point to the puddle and turn to ask Mr. Silvair, “What’s this called in your language? Can you tell me how to say this color?”

“Blood.” Mr. Silvair responds, not understanding what you wanted him to explain. 

“No, no.” You quickly reply, shaking your head. You continue to glance between him and the blood, enunciating your words even though he didn’t understand your language the same way you were able to understand his. You didn’t back down or give up, though, saying again, “The color – I want to know what color blood is.”

He pauses, one hand under his chin as he seemingly takes a moment to figure out what you are asking him. After a few beats, Mr. Silvair replies with a word you haven’t heard anyone speak before, “???”

You visibly brighten at the new word, and the expression on your face causes Mr. Silvair to let out a light chuckle before he crosses one of his legs over the other. You take a breath before telling him, “Okay. Thank you.” 

After another pause, you continue to speak, “So… One part object done, red part. Other parts hard – not finish.”

Mr. Silvair had been leaning forward in his chair, his elbow digging into his knee while his hand rested under his chin, holding his head up as he stared at you with an unwavering gaze. He always listened to you with rapt interest, and you would be lying if you said the constant attention didn’t make your heart stutter in your chest. However, he suddenly speaks, pointing to the pool of blood you had been gesturing toward moments before, “What you call that?”

“Huh?” You ask, pausing your story to look at him. Mr. Silvair doesn’t say anything else, though, giving you a moment to comprehend what he has asked you. You perk up when your brain finally registers what Mr. Silvair had said, replying to him happily, “Oh, that’s the color red. So, blood is typically red – blood red.” 

“R-ehd?” He echos, and the sound of his voice speaking a word that you were able to understand without having to flip through your mental dictionary had your breath hitching. It sounded so strange but so nice coming from his lips. 

“Yeah, red! Blood is red!” You say, sounding excited and oh-so happy. Mr. Silvair would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find the look on your face and the tone of your voice endearing. Then, your expression shifts slightly as you lean forward in your chair, saying enthusiastically, “Oh my god – I just got an idea! Me teach you me language!”

“...You language?” Mr. Silvair asks after a moment, shifting in his seat slightly. 

“Yes! Me teach you!” You reply, gesturing to both him and you with your hands. Your mind remembers the way Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped helped you shortly after you first arrived, teaching you directions to walk, facial expressions, and more. They had helped you expand your knowledge of this world’s language, and they were probably responsible for your survival in so many of those early interactions. So, you smile at him as you say, “We same.”

He returns a smile, nodding his head and replying with a simple, “Okay.”

“Alright, so, let me think here…” You hum to yourself, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes while you consider what you should start with. Body parts seemed to be the first thing that popped into your head, so that’s eventually what you decided to start with. Sitting up in the chair, you point toward your hand with the other, tapping a finger to your palm as you speak, “Okay, so, this is my hand – hand. Can you say hand?”

It was kind of cute, strangely enough, seeing Mr. Slivair take the time to repeat the word you spoke over and over in his mind, trying to match the movement of your mouth with his own. Your languages were quite different in sounds, syllables, and the like, so he was practicing what to say before actually speaking. After a few moments of contemplation, he replies, “...H-ah-nd.”

“Hey, that was pretty good! Not bad for your first try, Mr. Silvair, even if the pronunciation is a bit off.” You say with a wide smile, clapping your hands together as you applaud him on his efforts. He chuckles again, finding your way of teaching to be… sweet. 

Then, you speak again, once again grabbing his attention. You tap the pad of your finger under the skin of your eye, asking him, “Do you remember what this is called? I think I’ve told you before.”

Mr. Silvair is quicker in his response this time, having heard you ask him about his own eyes before as he smoothly says, “Eye.” 

“Yes! Good job!” You praise once more, giving him a thumbs up in response. Then, he stands up from his seat, walking over to you while his once-white lab coat flows behind him. You crane your head back to look up at him from where you were still sitting, a simple and stupid, “...Huh?” leaving your mouth. 

Mr. Silvair reaches a hand to your face, cupping your chin gently in his hand. You feel his thumb resting on your bottom lip, and he begins to move his finger back and forth along the slightly chapped flesh, tugging at it slightly. He tilts his head to the side, asking you seriously, “What this called?”

“Oh, uh…” You know your face is probably flushed beyond belief at this point if the heat cascading through your head is anything to go by, and your mind and heart are completely caught off-guard by his sudden touch and question. You avert your gaze to the side, swallowing harshly before you finally reply, “They’re my lips – they’re, umm… similar to mouth. Lips, mouth, same.”

“...Lips?” Mr. Silvair asks again for clarification, his voice having an almost husky tone to it that has a shiver travel down your spine. 

You nod in response, muttering a barely audible, “Yes…” 

Mr. Silvair hums at your response, a small smile gracing his lips. He leans down, face so close to yours, before he inquires with an almost teasing tone to his voice, “You want touch?”

“Y-Yes.” You answer at an almost embarrassingly fast speed. 

The man who you had grown so fond of chuckles at your enthusiasm before leaning forward, pressing his lips softly to yours while he holds your face between his palms. Kisses weren’t a common thing between the two of you, and they were really only something Mr. Silvair initiated when he felt like it. You could feel the intensity at which your heart was beasting due to his sudden affections, and there was a part of you that was worried it would burst out of your chest right then and there. 

Your eyes flutter shut and you tilt your head to the side, your hands coming up to rest atop his – his hands that were holding your cheeks so, so gently. It was almost sickening the way he was holding you like you could break at any moment. 

Then, almost as quickly as it began, the kiss ended before you even realized it did. Mr. Silvair’s forehead was now pressed against yours, and he doesn’t make any move to remove his hands from your face. Your lips were no longer touching, and yet he still lingered.  

Mr. Silvair didn’t play fair, you thought, yet you couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to kiss you so suddenly, so randomly. You close your eyes and your brows furrow at the tightening in your throat, an aching sensation slowly spreading throughout your chest like a disease before you whisper, “...I love you.”

There’s a silence, a stretch of nothingness before Mr. Silvair suddenly asks you, his voice just as soft as yours had been, “Repeat?”

“...No,” Your response is nearly immediate, and you shake your head before repeating once more, “Nothing.”

“...I love you.” The sound of those three words leaving his lips nearly causes your mind to implode. It sounded so sweet, yet it also felt worse than any suffering you had experienced before. The searing and excruciating pain, the feeling of a blade digging itself into the flesh of your torso couldn’t compare to the deep-seated torment you felt right now.

Mr. Silvair hums, tilting his head to the side as his thumbs continue to caress your cheeks, “What mean?”

You knew there was no point, no reason to try and explain your feelings again, but you do. You still do, even though you know it’s pointless to try. You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you speak, finding the concrete floor more interesting, “Mean… mean me like you. Lot like.”

There’s a pause, a moment of contemplation before Mr. Silvair says, “...Not understand.”

“I know.” You reply, nodding your head once in response. 

“You know?” He asks you, sounding somewhat confused, a tone you very rarely heard from the man. Had he forgotten that moment that you couldn’t seem to forget, the memory that you continuously found replaying in your mind like a broken record? It wasn’t fair, you thought, that only you were forced to hold onto such a painful memory. 

“You communicate before.” You clarify, finally willing yourself to look at his face. Mr. Silvair’s expression was tight, his lips drawn into a flat line. 

You needed to get away, to just run from this moment in the hopes he would forget the whole exchange just as he apparently did the last one. You take your hands and grab his wrists, removing his palms from your face before you stand up from the chair. You refuse to look at him as you turn, heading to the door as you utter, “...I’m going to go for a walk, so I’ll be back later. Goodbye.”

Then, you feel something tug at the sleeve of your raincoat. It wasn’t strong, nothing that would actually stop you from moving, but your legs proceeded to hault at the small action. Mr. Silvair says, his tone not demanding in the slightest – if anything, it sounded like a plea as he speaks, “No exit.”

You take a deep breath and turn around to face him, asking in such a small voice that it even caught yourself off-guard, “...Why?”

“I want you here.” Mr. Silvair responds quickly, so quickly it seems to have taken both of you by surprise. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he asks, finally releasing the material of your jacket from in between his fingers, “Stay… Will you stay?”

You once again find yourself wondering if Mr. Silvair was aware of the effect he had on you as a sigh leaves your mouth. You nod your head lightly and reply, “I will stay.”

“Good.” He says in response, a gentle smile on his face as he says for the second time, “I love you.”

You frown at him and shake your head, saying with a slight edge of frustration in your voice, “No speak. Not true.” 

“True… Believe true.” He says quickly, reaching out to once again place a hand against your cheek. You don’t move, don’t flinch away from his touch – you still relish the way he’s holding you like a fragile piece of glass. Mr. Silvair’s brows are furrowed ever so slightly as he mutters, “Confused.”

“You’re telling me… How do you think I feel?” You say with a huff, your hand holding into his as you find yourself nuzzling your nose into his palm. The painful feeling in your chest was still present, but it wasn’t nearly as excruciating as it had been now. You find it in yourself to smile, gazing up at him as you speak, “...but we’ll get through it together – we together. Right?”

“To-geh-ther…” He repeats, leaning down to press his forehead to yours once more as he says softly, “Yes.”

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 3]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 |

words: 9.1k

You change aspects of your outfit about seven times before you finally settle on something you deem acceptable.

You know the meeting isn't about you, but you can't help but want to dress nicely. But not too nicely that this will no longer be a casual lunch. You choose one of your nicer t-shirts with your nice jeans and try to be fancy by doing a French tuck, but kind of ruin the vibe by pairing it all with your walking sneakers. Minnie picked them out and they are obnoxiously neon orange, but they are incredibly comfortable and supportive. It's warm out, so you do something with your hair that is simple and won't get in the way. 

You even dabble in some make-up. Nothing fancy but enough that you no longer look a little too tired. 

Minnie, of course, is perceptive to your nerves and also wants to Dress Up. This, of course, means her Princess dress and you want her in a good mood, so you turn your daughter into a giant pink and yellow cupcake. She is absolutely thrilled to be able to wear it out so getting all packed up and ready to go goes smoothly.  You debate telling her that you are going to meet someone but ultimately decide against it. She's already picked up on how nervous you are. If you tell her she will be meeting a new person, she might start getting upset and you aren't going to chance ruining her mood. So you bundle her into her stroller and start towards the diner at a quarter 'til eleven.

You want to get there early and get all settled before Matt arrives - maybe get a few doodles in on the sketchbook you've packed so Minnie is nice and distracted. It is a pretty day out and you take your time as you walk, not wanting to get all sweaty after dressing up. 

It is a route you've taken many times before, so you let your mind wander as you stroll. 

You had needed a full day to process that you had found Minnie's father and he wanted to be in both of your lives. It recontextualized so much. You had spent your entire evening reading 'how to co-parent' articles and making lists - you now had about three pages filled with your daughter's likes and dislikes, contact information for anyone Matt might need to reach out to, and multiple different schedules. Your plan is to make him a huge binder, filled with whatever he might need to know. 

You don't know if you are going overboard or not but this is how you are dealing with everything. 

You don't exactly have anyone you can reach out to to talk with. You aren't close enough with anyone who you would feel comfortable opening up to about Matt. You know you should probably find a therapist but there is no way you can afford one.

To be fair, you aren't even sure how you feel about everything. You put your emotions aside to deal with all the practical changes and to focus on your daughter's well-being. Despite all your anxieties, everything has been going as well as you think it should go. You've only had two conversations, but you are hoping the trend continues. You desperately want Minnie to smothered with people who adore her because you never had that and you pray Matt wants the same. 

As you cross into Hell's Kitchen, your heart starts beating a little harder in your chest. You can't fight your nerves, so you try to channel them into something productive. 

"Do you know where we're going, Mouse?" You ask as you wait at a corner.

"Chicky waffles!" is the excited response, making you chuckle.

"Exactly, we're gonna go have some chicky waffles," you say with a little smile. Chicken and waffles is a featured menu item at the diner and for some reason considered your daughter's Celebration Meal. "And if you aren't too sleepy afterwards, we can do something fun."

Minnie gives an excited wiggle in her stroller, "I wanna see the duckies!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay, we can go see the duckies after lunch." You are hoping the promise of something she wants to do will come with the desire to behave, even if she starts to get fussy. You know you can't stop a tantrum if meeting Matt does truly upset her, but you can try your best to deter them. 

You are being overly precautious. You know you are, but you couldn't turn your mind off if you tried. 

You've long accepted your fate and just try to navigate your anxiety the best you can.

As Minnie lists off what she's named all the ducks, you debate coming up with some talking points for her and Matt. You doubt they have similar interests, though you know that doesn't mean much - as you don't have similar interests as your daughter - but animals and food are easy discussions. You worry when it comes to art, things may get a little harder.

You have no idea how to explain blindness to Minnie. You are really hoping that Matt has that experience and can help her understand. After all, you don't actually know how much he can see. You know he needs Braille - his flirting at the holiday party all those years ago had been to ask you to read the drink menu to him - and uses a cane, but that doesn't mean he can't see shapes and such. You definitely do not want to speak for him about his abilities.

Maybe afterwards you can look up some videos to help Minnie understand better. There's a plethora of resources online, you just need to know what to look for - a jumping off point. Blind parents with Seeing children are not a new thing and you bet you can find a bunch of tactile art projects beyond folding paper that would suit Minnie's age. 

The diner comes into view and you sigh in relief over the lack of a crowd. Maybe the Fates had smiled on you and everyone else would find somewhere else to have lunch. There is no one standing around outside, so you use the space to take Minnie out of her stroller. Instantly she tries to help you unpack, dragging her backpack out of the little storage area under the seat. You grab your purse and a collapsible booster seat, then start to fold up the stroller while she patiently waits.

She's still too small to pull open the heavy glass door of the diner, but that doesn't stop her from trying. She tugs on it twice before you are able to help her. She beams up at you and you return your little girl's smile as you enter the diner.

"Oh, well don't you look special," the waitress, Linda, says as she comes around the counter with some menus. You are convinced she must live above the diner because she is always there - but it also means Minnie is comfortable with her, so your daughter does a little twirl to show off her dress.

"We're gonna see the ducks!" 

"I see," Linda coos, "Well in that case, you're going to need a nice lunch to fill you up. Lemme see now, it looks like your booth is all open, so why don't we get you all settled in?"

Minnie takes off across the diner to the booth while you lean the stroller in the corner where you've been told you can store it. Once that is done, you head over to the booth. 

Linda places a menu where you will be sitting and as you slide into the seat next to Minnie, you ask for an additional menu in Braille. She looks a little surprised at the request, but doesn't question it and the menu is quickly placed across from you.

Minnie doesn't pay attention to the second menu at all, focused on pulling out her crayons and paper. She knows as long as she doesn't make a mess she's allowed to play on the table here and she doesn't waste any time getting right to it. 

"What do you want to drink, sweet pea?" Linda asks. 

"Lemonade, please, thank you!" Minnie answers like a little princess. Linda smiles at the response and asks the same to you, without the term of endearment. 

"An iced tea, please," you reply. You wait until she turns to go back behind the counter to pop open the booster seat. You set it on the seat beside Minnie and she carefully climbs into it before going back to laying out her crayons. 

"Do you want chicky waffles?" You ask Minnie. She shakes her head, ignoring you in favor of starting to scribble. You wait a few moments, giving her a chance to think and reply but that doesn't happen. You say her name, then repeat the question.

"No, I want grilled cheese," she says, looking up, "with fruit. Please. Thank you."

"With fruit?" You confirm, a little amused at the declaration. She nods and goes back to her work. 

You refuse to check the time. You know as soon as you do you'll spiral into an anxiety attack, so instead, you drag the menu over to you and start reading it over. You don't really know what you want - your stomach is more nerves than hunger. 

Linda drops off your drinks with a little smile, "I'll be back for your orders."

"Thank you," both you and Minnie say. 

You fall into a silence, half looking over the menu and half watching Minnie drag her crayon over the page. She's got the yellow one in her little fist and you wonder what could be going on in that head of hers. You hope her thoughts are good ones - all about ducks and cupcakes and magical things and no worries exist.

The bell above the door to the diner chimes after about two minutes and you look up as Matt walks in. Your breath catches in your throat and your heart pounds hard. 

There is no argument about whether or not Matt is physically attractive - he's gorgeous and could easily be a model if he wanted to be - but you can tell that Effort was put in that morning. 

His scruff is trimmed down to a neat five o'clock shadow and his hair is a little fluffy like he's run his hand through it a few times. He's sporting a leather jacket, black tee shirt, slacks, and wing tips - he looks casual but cool. He's so incredibly handsome and for a moment you question if you're right about him being Minnie's father.

There is no way this man took you to bed. You think you're pass-ibly attractive, but he's on a whole other level of hot. 

You are so busy ogling him it doesn't register right away you need to alert him to your whereabouts. Linda makes a bee line right for him, exchanging words you can't hear. She turns to look at you, one brow raising up in question. In response, you raise your hand in acknowledgement. She nods then leads Matt over to your booth. You finally notice he is holding a pink medium sized gift bag and you can't help but wonder what is inside.

He stops at the edge of the table, brushing his fingers over it to find the boundaries. You speak first, to let him know where you are.

"Hi." 

It comes out far shyer than you mean and Linda gives a pointed 'are you serious' face.

It doesn't matter because he replies just as shyly, "Hi." 

"Um, the seat to your right is empty, with a menu in the middle of the table," you direct. Minnie looks up at him and you watch her watch him fold his cane and slip into the seat. You can tell she is curious, but cautious. 

"Can I get you anything to drink?" The elderly waitress asks and Matt asks for coffee. She then turns to go fetch that, leaving your new little family to finally meet each other.

You clear your throat and start the introductions, "Minnie, this is Matt. He is going to be our new friend. Can you say hi?"

She's quiet for a few seconds before mumbling out, "Hello."

Matt completely lights up at the greeting. His smile gets so big and boyishly happy you have to bite your lip so you don't break out into your own smile. 

"Hi, Minnie. It's…it's so nice to meet you." 

Your daughter presses the fist clutching the crayon to her mouth as she looks Matt over. Her little eyes dart all over his features before she turns her head to look up at you. Her brow scrunches up in a way you know means she wants to ask something, so you gently prompt her.

"Do you want to ask something, Mouse?"

She gives a barely there nod. 

"Okay. You can take your time. Is that okay, Matt?" You say, gently redirecting the conversation back to him.

"Take your time," Matt tells her, his voice so soft and sweet. Encouraging.

She squirms in her seat and you quickly offer up your hand so she can hold onto it. She grabs your hand with her non-dominant one and squeezes tightly, needing the anchor to know everything will be okay - only then does she talk, her mouth hidden behind fist and crayon. 

"You're Mommy's friend?" 

Matt nods, smile still on his face, "I am. Or I hope to be. I'd like to be your friend, too."

Minnie rocks side to side in her booster seat, still looking over Matt like she's trying to parse out his motive. Despite not being able to see her contemplating, Matt waits patiently until the next question comes.

"Is it…your Birthday?" She asks after about ten seconds.

Matt shakes his head, his smile going from bright to a little softer, "No, it's not. This," he picks up the gift bag and places it in front of Minnie on the table, "is for you."

Her head automatically turns to look up at you with big questioning eyes, silently seeking permission. You gently squeeze her hand, "You can open it."

She pulls away from you and reaches out to pull the bag closer. It's too tall on the table for her to see into, so she very very gently, like she's scared it will break, tips it over onto its side. The packing tissue matches the bag and your little one gets distracted by that for a moment. She scrunches paper so it crinkles and folds before pulling it out and handing it off to you to hold. You assume that means she wants to keep it, as she knows wrapping paper gets thrown out. To your surprise, the tissue is thicker than what you are used to - it won't rip to shreds if you look at it too hard. That must be why she wants it - it's something to play with later.

A delighted shriek rips through the diner making you and Matt and everyone else in vicinity visibly wince.

"It's Scooby!" Minnie absolutely screams, revealing what is in the bag. It is indeed a Scooby Doo plushie - one of the good quality ones that looks extremely soft to the touch. He's seated and you can tell he has weighted paws to keep him upright and he looks more like a puppy Scooby than the one from the old show, but you know that doesn't matter. 

Mouse loves him. 

She practically shoves the plush in your face to show you. "Mommy, it's Scooby!"

Her excitement makes you laugh and rub at her back, "I see. Do you like him?" She nods before smashing the plush into her chest and hugging it tightly. You smile more, "What do you say to Matt?"

Matt has the biggest smile on his face and that, plus the gift, seems to soothe Minnie's anxiety. She looks right at him, matching his smile with her own beaming one, "Thank you, Mister Matt!"

"You're welcome, sweetheart." 

You can hear the emotion in Matt's voice and it touches your heart. He looks just so happy. You get the feeling he would have been crushed if she hadn't liked the toy.

Minnie holds Scooby up and out to Matt and wiggles him back and forth, "Do you like Scooby? I love Scooby. He's my favorite - he solves mysteries! With Shaggy!"

"I haven't watched cartoons in a long time, but I remember Scooby Doo. I liked the girl with the glasses," Matt replies gently. You give a pleased hum at his response.

"Velma! That's Mommy's favorite!" Minnie exclaims, hugging her new toy again. She's so excited and wiggling with delight. You can't fight your smile as you watch her - and how could you? Matt's own smile is infectious. 

"Oh, is she?" He asks and your little girl gives another eager nod. 

"Uh-huh. 'Cause she's not scared of the monsters!"

That earns a little chuckle from both you and Matt, and he asks, "Are the monsters scary?"

"Yeah! But - but they are really just People," she screws up her face and emphasizes the word, pausing before starting again, "so they aren't Really scary." 

"Ah, I see. Velma must be pretty brave to not be scared of the monsters."

"Mommy's braver," Mouse says proudly, puffing up her chest. She puts emphasis between each word,  "Mommy's not scared of anything." 

Your cheeks burn at her declaration. 

"Is that so?" Matt asks, tilting his head a little towards you, his smile turning amused. You can tell he knows it's not true, but he won't break her illusion.

"I try to be," you say, rubbing Minnie's back again,  trying to get her to calm down just a little bit. She's too happy over the new play thing to be nervous. Matt's done good - she's going to want to talk about cartoons - at least until food comes. 

Linda has been eyeing your table and finally breaks away from the counter to come over to you, dropping off Matt's coffee then taking out her order pad. 

"Can I get y'all started on some food?"

Minnie's attention is ripped away from Scooby and she looks up at the waitress. She squirms in her seat to sit up even taller and proclaims, "I want grilled cheese. With fruit. Please. Thank you."  

She's ordered her own food from Linda before, though usually with not such confidence. You think this is part of her push to be a Big Girl. She's gotten to the age where she's started telling you she's not a baby anymore, even if you disagree, and you wonder if she's trying to impress Matt by showing that. You think it's absolutely adorable. 

You can tell Linda does, too.

"One grilled cheese with fruit for the cupcake. How about Mom?"

You consider your options and decide quickly what you want, "Let's go with a grilled cheese with french fries."

Linda jots down the order and turns her attention to Matt, "and the sir?"

"I think I'll have to round it out and get a grilled cheese with fries."

Linda laughs to herself like she's very much enjoying the free reality show she is getting. "Three grilled cheese, two fry, and one fruit coming right up. Think about what y'all want for dessert." 

You duck your head in embarrassment, knowing you are turning pink at the tease. You know she knows Matt is Minnie's father. She looks just like him and sitting there smiling together, there is no denying it. You don't need a DNA test. 

One hundred percent, Matt Murdock fathered your precious little angel.

And Linda seems to think this is the Best Thing in the World. She is absolutely thrilled and you know she's going to gossip with the cooks. 

Matt's got a blush to his cheeks as well, licking his lips shyly.

That makes you blush even more.

Minnie is totally unaware of the implications and declares she wants a sundae.

"Okay, then, I'll go get your order in so you can get that faster," Linda tells her before going to check on the next table. 

"Cupcake?" Matt questions once she steps away, raising his brow over his glasses as he does. His smile is turning into a smirk and you think he's over being shy now. At least towards you. 

"Minnie is sporting her Princess dress," you advise. You don't think his smile can get any bigger.

"A princess dress? Am I under dressed?"

You gently nudge your daughter, "Can you tell Matt about your dress?"

Minnie hugs Scooby to her chest before happily launching into a description of her dress, "It's pink! And yellow! And puffy! It has sparkles! And I can run in it."

"You can run in it?" He clarifies. The answer is a vigorous nod, so you jump in to help.

"The bottom is kind of like a tutu - lots of tulle. It only goes to her calves, so it won't drag on the ground. She looks like an upside down cupcake." You don't know if that helps at all, but he doesn't push for more information. 

"It sounds like a really good Princess dress. Does that make you the Queen?" He teases. It gets a giggle from your daughter, which only makes you blush more. He directs his next inquiry to Minnie, once she's done laughing at you.

"Can you tell me what your Mommy is wearing?"

Your little one doesn't question why Matt needs things described to him and jumps right in, always so eager to please, "Mommy's wearing her fancy pants and a pretty top and she's got pretty hair. She looks pretty." Matt makes a pleased little noise over her description, encouraging her to continue on.

You resist the urge to hide your face in your hands. Your pants aren't fancy - she just rarely sees you outside leggings and sweatpants. You are going to have to take her to nicer places so she doesn't think jeans are formal wear. And pretty? Well, Mouse thinks everything is pretty.

"Do you think Mommy's pretty?" Minnie boldly asks instead of describing you more and you feel like you are going to die. You'd much rather prefer if she was being shy right now.

"I do," he says gently and of course it makes your blush even harder. This meeting should be about him meeting Minnie, but it is apparently about them ganging up on you to explode your heart out of your chest. "My eyes got hurt when I was a kid, so I can't see through them anymore. I see things through hearing and touching. I think you're Mommy has a very pretty voice. I like how she says different words. I can't see you're Mommy rubbing your back, but if I listen I can hear it. I can't see that your Mommy is wearing a pretty shirt, but now that you told me, I know. I use my hands to find out what shapes things are and where things are around me." He demonstrates by gently, and exaggeratedly, patting the table until he finds the menu. Mouse watches in fascination as he pushes it to be between them. 

"I can't read like your Mommy can anymore with my eyes, so instead I use my fingers. Each set of bumps is a letter. It's called Braille and it's the English alphabet for people who use their fingers to read instead of their eyes."

You watch as your daughter listens to the explanation. She scrunches up her face as she processes the information, before looking down at her hands. She flexes her fingers a few times before looking back up at Matt. 

"You got hurt?" She asks. Matt nods and gives an affirmative, pulling the menu back towards him. Part of you wonders if he's explained being Blind to a child before - his words and the concepts are simple enough for your little one to grasp. You're glad you left this to him.

"Something bad got in my eyes and made them not work anymore." You know this is something your daughter understands - she's gotten things in her eyes before that made it hard for her to see. You can see the dots connecting in Mouse's mind - she rubs a little fist into her left eye like it's irritated.

"Do you need a band-aid?" Minnie asks before dropping her arm with a little gasp, "or a kissy? Mommy gives me a kissy when I get hurt." Her concern is adorable and before Matt can answer her, she's jutting her new toy out towards him again, "Scooby can give you a kissy."

You can't see Matt's eyes behind his red glasses, but you can totally tell Minnie has already got him completely wrapped around her little fingers. You don't know if it's instinct to love her or he's just charmed by her sweetness. 

"Thank you, sweetheart. I don't need one right now, it happened a long time ago. They've healed, they just don't work anymore. But if you could help tell me what things look like, I would very much appreciate that." His words are gentle and your daughter absolutely lights up over being asked to help. She loves to help.

"I can do that! I know what lots of things are!" She's practically bouncing in her seat, and deciding this is something you need to practice as well, tell Matt as such. 

He tilts his head towards you, and it might be a trick of your mind, but for a moment his smile looks a bit softer before his attention is pulled back to Minnie. She's holding up Scooby again - you think she's not going to let go of the toy for the rest of the day - and once both you and Matt are focused on her, she starts describing him the best she can. 

"He's brown and he's got a big head and he's a dog!" She turns the toy so it's back is facing Matt before telling him Scooby has black spots, "But not like Pongo. Only a little bit of spots. Pongo has.. Pongo has ten spots." She nods with authority over her assessment and you smile down at her, pride warming your heart. 

"Thank you for telling me what he looks like," Matt says gently, making your little one just beam back at him. "You're very good at it."

You lean on your fist and watch her giggle and hide her face against Scooby. You don't want her to get too embarrassed and not want to talk, so you guide the conversation to something easy for her. 

"Do you want to tell Matt about what we're going to do after lunch?" You ask, knowing it's a topic that excites her and she won't be shy, but it's also something he can relate to. 

Across the table from you, Matt leans forward a little, clearly giving all his attention to Minnie, "Are you going to do something fun after lunch?"

The question gets her to look up from trying to hide away and she nods. She pushes her drawing, which has been ignored since Matt arrived, across the table towards him. You think she doesn't fully understand the concept that Matt cannot see yet, but she'll figure it out. 

"She's sliding you her drawing," you say to try and help. You don't know if he needs more description than that - you can't remember how assistive you were during your night together. You're hoping it's another conversation you can have so you can adapt better to his life. 

Matt feels around the table in front of him until he finds the notepad and he pulls it towards him. Minnie presses her face back into her plushie as she watches him run his fingers around the paper. You are all silent as he locates one of the circles Minnie has scribbled and begins to trace it. His lips begin to twitch at the corners and you wonder what he is thinking - what he is feeling.  You hope this isn't a cruel thing - Minnie trying to show him her art. 

You can tell he can feel the indentation of the crayon being pushed into the paper and you hope it is enough. You are definitely going to look into tactile art when you get home. You don't want to risk being this cruel and embarrassing again. 

"We're gonna see the duckies," Minnie says after a beat and much to your surprise, she pushes herself up so she can reach across the table and places her finger on a circle Matt's not touching. "That's Quack." 

Matt moves his finger to brush against hers, grounding where he is then begins to trace that circle, "This one is Quack?"

"Yeah! He's yellow. And this one," she pushes her finger to the third scribble, which is more square than circle, "is Moose. He's mean." 

"He's mean?" Matt asks as he follows her finger with his own. The drawing is not very big, so he easily finds her finger again, bumping up against hers. All the yellow circles and shapes look the same to you but you know that isn't the case to your daughter and listening to her explain to Matt makes you want to pull out your camera and record the breathtaking smile he has right now.

You're sure there's plenty of time for that later. You're not going to break the moment getting out your phone.

"He bites," Minnie says wisely, like it's a warning. Matt takes it as such and nods in understanding as he follows her finger around the drawing.

"That is mean. You shouldn't bite people," Matt replies, taking in the shape of Moose. "What color is he?"

"He's yellow too," she answers, "but he's only got one feets. That's why he's mean." She carefully moves herself back so she can plop down in her seat. "Mommy says…Mommy says he can't runs away so he bites."

You turn your head a little so you can smile into your hand. Hearing her repeat something you have previously told her always makes your heart melt - she's learning and retaining and growing up. Soon, she won't be your little baby girl. 

"That's right, sweetie," you praise. "He can't run away like the other ducks, so to tell people to stay away, he bites. How do you keep from being bitten?"

Minnie screws up her face in thought and you glance at Matt to gauge his reaction. He still has his hand on the drawings, though he's stopped tracing them since she sat down, and he looks so enraptured by your daughter - his daughter. 

As if he senses you looking at him, he sends a soft smile your way. You return it, not caring that he can't see it. This happy little moment is perfect in your eyes.

"You can only pet the duckies at the zoo," Minnie says after a few moments of thinking. She looks up to you to make sure that is the correct answer and you nod, smiling down at her.

"Exactly, we can only pet the ducks at the zoo. Those ducks like to be pet. The ducks in the park don't want to be pet, so we don't touch them," you gently reinforce. 

"That is a good way to keep everyone happy," Matt agrees, moving his hand away from the notepad so he can take a drink of his coffee. 

Minnie quickly moves to mimic him and you watch as she carefully brings her glass of lemonade closer. Linda already provided a straw, so you don't need to worry about her trying to pick up the glass so you'll let her do this herself unless she asks for help. She has to sit up straight, but Mouse is able to wrap her lips around the straw and take a few sips.

Then of course, as soon as she's done she holds Scooby up to the straw and pushes his muzzle against it a little too hard. Your hand flies out to stabilize the glass before it can wobble too much. You don't chastise her, as she did nothing wrong, and simply hold the lemonade while she plays.

"Slurp slurp slurp," Minnie whispers to herself before 'walking' the toy back into her lap. 

"Do you like watching the ducks?" Matt asks once she's done, bringing her focus back, and instead of nodding, your little one makes Scooby nod for her before she turns him over and starts messing with his weighted paws.

"They're funny. They have lots of fights. And put their butts up in the water." You try to not huff at her description, as she is not exactly wrong. Part of you wants to jump in and explain what she means, but you want her to bond with Matt. You don't want her to rely on you as a go-between for explaining things to one another. They need to learn each other's language. 

"They put their butts up?" Matt asks bewildered and you don't know if it's genuine or played up for Minnie. 

Either way, your little girl giggles, "When they go down in the water. They go butt up!" She looks up at Matt then turns her plush over so his tail is pointed towards the ceiling, "like this!"

You do decide to intervene at this point, tapping on Minnie's shoulder so she looks up to you, "Matt can't see with his eyes, remember? You need to tell him what it looks like or let him feel."

You can see the little wheels turning behind her eyes as she mentally puts the pieces together. She looks back to him then plonks Scooby face down, ass up on her notepad. 

"Like this," she repeats before patting the sides of the plushie. She then leans back in her seat and smiles at Matt, proud of herself. You bite your lip, waiting to see what Matt does. 

He doesn't push for or request more description, instead quickly finding the edge of the notepad, then feeling over Scooby. You're pretty sure he's putting on a show of patting over the toy by the way it's making Minnie giggle. 

"Do you know why they put their butts up?" He asks and you wonder how much longer you will be talking of duck butts. It's cute, but you are also in public. Matt seems to not care at all so you push aside any embarrassment creeping at the edge of your psyche. 

They both absolutely deserve this.

Your little one shakes her head with a 'not-uh' at Matt's question. You've told her why before, but you are sure she's forgotten - it is not useful information to her three year old brain. 

"It's so they can get food underwater," he says as he flips Scooby over so he's sitting properly again. "They float on the water, but their food is underneath them." He bounces Scooby lightly, like he's floating in water. As she watches and listens, Mouse sticks her little hands into her mouth. "They have to dive down to get it, because they don't have hands to pick it up," he demonstrates by tipping the stuffed dog forward, so he's once again face down ass up. "So they end up sticking their butts out of the water. They look for food like this."

As he finishes his explanation, he pushes Scooby towards Minnie, pretending to make him snuffle and sniff for her, including making the sound himself. She hides her face behind her hands, giggling loudly, "There's no food here!"

"Oh no, there's not?" Matt asks in an overly dejected voice, tilting Scooby back up so he's sitting. He lets go of the plush and to keep up the fun atmosphere, you quickly pick it up instead.

You bounce the toy towards your daughter, teasing lightly, "is he going to have to gobble you up instead?"

"No!" She mock wails, lightly kicking her feet and still hiding her face, "I'm not food!"

"Are you sure?" Matt asks, leaning forward a little bit. "You look like food to me."

"Nom nom nom," you say in a deep voice, having Scooby's muzzle bump into her arm repeatedly. His pun doesn't dawn on you until Mouse starts squirming around and giggling.

"Noooo!"

"Well, looks like I'm here right in time," Linda declares as she very suddenly appears at the end of the table holding a tray with your orders. You flush in embarrassment, instinctively moving to sit up straight and behave and pulling Scooby into your lap. You feel like a misbehaving kid who got caught playing in class.

Matt has the most shit eating grin on his face, like he doesn't care who saw him playing with Minnie. He probably doesn't - this is his first time meeting her and it's going so well. 

Your meals are placed in front of you, with Linda narrating to Matt where his plate is and where the food is on the plate when she sets it in front of him as she collects the menus.

"Thank you, Linda," Matt says from across the booth, managing to look and sound boyishly charming.

Again, almost instantly, Minnie copies him, giving her biggest and brightest, "Thank you, Miss Linda!" 

"Thank you, Linda," you echo with your own little smile because you don't want to be rude and because you know she'll fucking love it. 

"Well isn't that just the sweetest thing you've ever seen," she coos at you and you have to bite your lip so you don't laugh. You just know she is going to corner you at some point and demand answers. But that is for later, right now you are in your own bubble.

Beside you, Minnie helpfully pipes up, "Mister Matt can't see, you have to tell him what you see. Or let him feel." 

You close your eyes tightly so you don't cringe or laugh. Your little Mouse is trying her best to do what she has been taught and you can't fault her at all. Linda gives a surprised yet amused laugh while Matt addresses your daughter. You can hear the smile in his voice.

"Thank you, Minnie, that's right. She's talking about us and I know that, so she doesn't need to explain. I appreciate your help in telling her, though." You look over to your daughter to gauge her reaction and she is still all smiles and Love.

"You're welcome!" She brightly replies then turns her attention to you and the toy in your lap, "Mommy, can I have Scooby?"

Linda gently taps the edge of the table with her knuckles as she steps away from the table, "Y'all enjoy your food and let me know if y'all need anything else." Her grin is enormous, and you'll have to give a nice tip for not completely embarrassing you.

You thank her again and once she's left, you pass Scooby back to Minnie, with a gentle reminder, "Put him to the side, so he won't get dirty." She nods in understanding, taking him and plopping him on the other side of her booster seat. Then she leans on the table and stretches her little arms until she can grab the napkin holder on the other end of the booth. Before you realize what she's doing, she yanks a handful of napkins free and falls back into her seat with an "oof".

"Are you alright?" Matt quickly asks, reaching his hand out over the table towards her like he can actually catch her from there if she falls. 

His instinct to protect her makes your heart sing as you answer, "she's okay. Mouse, if you can't reach, you can ask for help." You still pat over her to make sure she's completely okay and it causes her to squirm in her seat.

"I can reach," is her slightly pouty reply. You don't want to get her cranky when she's been doing so well, so you let this pass and pull your hands away.

"Okay, sweetheart, just be careful, okay?" 

Instead of answering, she ignores you and slowly she starts to unfold the napkins one by one. You have no idea what she is doing so you just watch. For a moment - then you remember Matt has no idea what is going on and you try your hand at narrating, "She grabbed napkins and now she is unfolding them."

"Why are you doing that, sweetheart?" He asks your daughter, brow knitting up and mouth turning into a frown. 

She looks up at him as she pulls open another napkin and lays it flat on the table, saying like it's the most obvious thing, "Scooby doesn't have a lap."

"Scooby…doesn't have a lap?" Matt clarifies, clearly confused. You are as well until Minnie turns and starts draping the napkins over the plushie, covering him with them like a patchwork ghost. 

Then you get it. "He doesn't have a lap to hold his napkin." 

Realization dawns on Matt's face and he huffs in delight, "Of course." He makes a big show of taking the napkin around the silverware of his place set and putting it in his lap, even though your little one barely looks up at him. "We don't want to get dirty while eating."

"No crumbs," you agree, taking your napkin and putting it into your lap. You are constantly amazed by what your little girl retains - usually you have to put the napkin on her lap or remind her. Big Girl table manners is something you've only just started working on and pride swells in your chest at her actions. Even if she's just trying to impress Matt you are thrilled your lessons are working.

Once Scooby is hidden under napkins, Minnie puts one still folded napkin into her own lap. She pats it carefully so it's flat. As she does that, you check her plate to make sure everything is ready for her. Her kid's grilled cheese is already cut into four triangles, so you don't need to make anything smaller for her, and the fruit cup doesn't require any help. She's big enough to be able to stab the cut fruit with a fork and eat it on her own. You don't need to fuss with anything on her plate, so you start picking at your french fries. Matt has the same idea as you, going for his side instead of the main, but your daughter picks up the closest quarter of her sandwich and starts to nibble at it, like the Mouse she is.

A comfortable silence falls over your booth as you all start to eat. 

You're still a little hesitant to trust everything is really going so well. You've conditioned yourself to believe that eventually everything will always fall apart - you just need to give it time. People leave and things go wrong, and you're left hurt and alone to pick up the pieces. You pray and hope and wish this curse the universe has put on you doesn't get passed down to your daughter. As long as you are breathing you won't leave her - and maybe if you believe hard enough Matt has come into Minnie's life and you are only there by extension, things won't come crashing down around her. 

You'll fight tooth and nail for her well-being if it comes down to it, but it's something you don't want to have to do. She deserves a good, easy life.

Matt breaks you from your depressing thoughts, tilting his head and that handsome sweet smile towards Minnie, "How is your grilled cheese, Minnie?"

She looks up at him from behind her food, eyes going wide at being addressed, like she forgot Matt was even there. She sets down her half-eaten slice before answering, in a shy little mumble, "...it's yummy." 

"Yeah?"

You duck your head with a fond smile. After the brief excitement of playing, of course she reverts back to being shy. You can sense she wants to start squirming and hiding at the direct attention, so you try to redirect the energy. It's amazing how bold you can be when trying to comfort your daughter. You can let yourself be uncomfortable until the cows come home, but you don't want her to experience that.

"Matt, can you tell Minnie a little about yourself?" You ask, maybe a little bit louder than you intended to.

He tilts his head towards you just slightly, his lips parting slightly and brow furrowing like he doesn't quite get why you asked that now. But he doesn't question you, instead leaning back into his seat to think over the question. 

You want Minnie to know more about Matt to get more comfortable with him but you are also curious. Hearing what someone says about themselves is more telling than reading about them in online news articles.

"Let's see, I first met your Mommy a few years ago at a party. That's how we became friends.  My other friends and I run a law firm where we help people when they get in trouble," He pokes at his fries while he talks and that seems to help Minnie relax more. She picks up her grilled cheese triangle and resumes eating while she listens. "I grew up here in Hell's Kitchen and want to help all my neighbors the best I can, because they are good people who don't have a lot of people to help them. I am able to help them, so my friends and I do the best we can to help them if they need it. I want to live in a happy place where people help each other." 

You have no idea if he has experience talking to three year olds, but you think he'll have no problems with Minnie. Even if she doesn't understand exactly what he's saying, she watches him with interested eyes and you can tell she's taking in the information the best she can. Even if she's getting shy again, it's obvious Matt doesn't scare her. 

"You help people?" your little one asks as Matt eats another fry. "Like a police man?"

He shakes his head, "No, after the police man comes. Like, if a police man thinks someone did something bad, but they didn't. They need someone to come tell the policeman they are innocent. That means they didn't do the bad thing." 

Mouse pauses her chewing, sandwich still partly in her mouth. You haven't really discussed the topic of police with her - she's just three after all, but you know from the shows she watches the police are viewed in a good light. Personally, you've seen the bad side and know very well Matt helped clearing out the corrupt cops in Hell's Kitchen, but the concept the police might get something wrong seems to be a big one for her. Her little nose and brow scrunch up as things roll around in her head. 

Matt seems to realize she's processing, as he continues to eat his fries and wait for the next question. 

Finally, she puts her sandwich back down and looks up at Matt with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Are you Spidey-man?"

You try very hard to not laugh at the series of emotions that fly across Matt's face. First, he looks confused, then he makes this face like he smelled something bad, curling up his lips a little, before forcing it back into a smile with the help of a deep breath. 

"No, sweetheart, I'm not Spider-Man, I'm a lawyer." 

Minnie visibly deflates with a tiny 'oh', picking up a new sandwich triangle to start eating while looking like she's been told Christmas has been canceled. You suck on your bottom lip so you won't laugh. Across from you, Matt looks like he's angry at himself for not being Spider-Man and for disappointing Mouse over the fact - like how dare he not be the spunky superhero. 

You feel the need to intervene before the mood shifts into something negative.

You pick up one of your french fries and wave it a little at Minnie to get her attention, "Matt can't be Spider-Man, Mouse. He's too tall." That gets her to look up at him again and he offers her this tiny hopeful smile. You feel like he's silently begging her to not be upset at him over something he can't control. "Remember? The balloon lady said he was as tall as her and Matt's taller than that." 

You have no idea if she even registered how tall Matt is or if she can even mentally compare his height to the height of someone she's never seen in person, but you know pointing out how things are different in the past has worked.

She screws up her face at your words, carefully considering them, then finally nods and declares, "He's too tall to be Spidey-man." And just like that, everything is fine and she goes back to eating. 

You grin to yourself and pop your fry into your mouth. Matt sits there, like he needs his own moment to process what happened. You are used to toddler wild mood swings and how to deal with them - you speak fluent Minnie logic. It will take him time to learn and you are sure there will be plenty of chances for it. He will be a master of it in no time if his fancy law degree is any indication.

Matt clears his throat after a long pause before picking up half of his sandwich, "Is he your favorite superhero?"

You wonder if he is really ready for this conversation. Minnie is part of the first generation to grow up with Super Heroes being a Real thing and not from war stories and comic books. You've tried to keep her away from all the news stories about all the horrible world events that keep happening, but capitalism sure loves to sell the idea and you can't fight capitalism. You're half convinced the Avengers are funded by their merchandise sales alone. Spider-Man isn't a part of all that, as far as you know, but New York loves the guy and you can get bootleg Spider merch on most street corners. Which you have, because Mouse thinks he's Cool. 

"He saved a kitty," she says with lots of pride in her voice. "I saw on TV." 

You remember the news segment from a few weeks prior: someone had filmed Spider-Man rescuing a cat that had gotten stuck in some construction equipment. It was heartwarming.

"He saved a kitty?" He asks, pretending to be in awe. Minnie gives a vigorous nod before shoving more of her grilled cheese into her mouth.

"She's nodding," you narrate, finally moving to eat your sandwich. "It was a daring rescue. I had to save the video on my phone so we can rewatch it. It was on top of a crane."

"Do you like Spidey-man?" Mouse asks as soon as she swallows her food. You know he can't see you, but you still look at Matt with raised eyebrows, wanting to know his answer as well.  

"Well, based off what you said, he sounds like a good man. He wasn't around when I was growing up, so I'm partial to Captain America. I used to read his comics when I was little like you." It's a very diplomatic and lawyer-y answer and it makes you wonder if Matt even likes the topic. Hell's Kitchen did get the short end of the stick in the Battle of New York and the whole thing might be a touchy subject, especially considering his career. You know developers tried to take advantage of all the destruction and that must have caused a tonne of legal trouble. 

Not that Minnie knows any of that, so you try to divert the conversation with the first thought that comes to mind, "what about ducks, Mr. Murdock, are you a fan of ducks?" 

Your question throws him for a moment, but eventually he hums at the inquiry before nodding, "I do like ducks. Even ones who bite." He shoots you a little smile, something charming that makes your heart stutter. So instead of continuing to look at him, you turn to your daughter.

"Do you think we should invite Matt to visit the ducks?" You ask, wanting to make sure she is comfortable with the idea before properly asking Matt if he would like to come along. You have no idea if he has plans after this or not, but it is worth a shot.

Minnie looks from you to Matt and back again, pursing her lips in thought before lowering her voice into an unintentional stage whisper, "Mommy, he can't touch the duckies."

You try your best to not coo at her concern. You want to wrap her up in your arms and never let anything bad happen because how can your little angel be so thoughtful after only knowing him for half an hour?

"It's okay, sweetie," Matt softly says, and you turn your gaze to him. You swear you can feel the emotion coming off of him in waves - the desire to spend more time with his daughter, to learn more about her and bond. "You can help describe them to me, if you want. If you want me to come with you." 

The last part hits home - you are very familiar with that way of speech. The want and ache to be included but knowing you'll most likely be denied the opportunity. 

It feels like an infinity passes before she looks away from both of you and shyly admits, "I can help." She was so enthusiastic with her new toy and you do want to try to get that energy back. The park is one of the places she forgets to be a timid little mouse and you are hoping once she's not trapped in the booth, it will be easier for her to express herself.

"May I go with you to visit the ducks, Minnie?" He asks so proper and politely and it makes your stomach do funny things. You really do not understand how this wonderful man picked you of all people to sleep with.

Mouse squirms then pushes her wrist against her mouth, mumbling into it, "I wanna see the duckies. With Mister Matt. And Mommy."

You lean in and gently kiss the top of her head, rubbing at her back to silently tell her she did such a good job. "We'll all go see the duckies after we finish eating. All together."

Minnie peeks up at you, that shy sweet smile brightening to a look only reserved for Mommy, "We're gonna see the duckies. All together."

From the other side of the booth you hear Matt confirm in the softest voice, like you weren't meant to hear it.

 "All together."

tags list:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza 

[kaypeace21]

[The future of this BLOG]: SHOWS I'm planning on analyzing here & on YouTube

Interview with the vampire

Invincible

House of the dragon

The boys

Umbrella acadamy

Bridgerton probably (still haven't had time to watch part 2 yet)

stranger things: I have mixed feelings about reviewing it given what certain staff has said and done. I oscilate between wanting to review the final season or wanting to boycott it (especially as someone who has been part of the BDS movement for 1/2 her life). But, on one hand, It's not the fault of the underpaid (and talented) writers and staff who don't have these views. And I do believe some of the writing staff may have good intentions and want to give us a positive and powerful message to the audience about healing from childhood tr*uma. However, other members of the writing staff may just want to go down the stereotypical and popular-easy route. We'll just have to wait and see what happens in the last season. If I hear the ending isn't simply another re-hashing of prior seasons and it's more like s1-2 (without the cliches of s3-4). I'd be more inclined to review it by *cough* and watching it elsewhere. Once I was logged back on to tumblr: I did have a whole draft saved about my politics since I was a kid and why I still feel so strongly about such conflicts, today . But, I shouldn't make the topic about me- and I'm not sure anyone wants to hear my life story XD. So, the big point (to my followers) is regardless of whether I chose to watch it or boycot it-

I'm not deleting the old ST content: so do what you want with it (like, reblog, add details to reblogs I didn't notice). Have fun :D !

Analyzing ST certainly helped me improve in terms of media literacy (and it'll be beneficial for the future content I make). So even if it sometimes got messy here, I do appreciate all the positives the ST blog and followers brought to me.The kind words meant a lot. For those who want to unfollow me for my political beliefs , that's totally fine. That's your prerogative. For those who want to unfollow cause again ST was pretty much my whole blog: again I TOTALLY understand and I wish you the best :). I'm not going to judge, take away, or guilt anyone, for their choice of media they like. Enjoy it (I truly mean that).

For those who continue to follow my blog . I appreciate you SO MUCH! I've been gone from this blog for such a long time cause of school (and I appreciate those who stayed and were excited to see me again). The positive words meant a lot over the years. Everyone have a lovely day. Take care of yourselves.

Sincerely, Kay

ps: I'm open to other media suggestions too so you can drop them in my message box (recent films/ shows, mini/limited series, animation, heck i'm open to comedies and foreign media too).But, analyzing them will most likely be after the shows listed above .Right now I'm focusing on my national exam and my mental health. My first video will probably be in late August or early September. My test is August 20th. Hope everyone is doing well .I'm feeling much better mentally. Hope everyone is feeling the same way :)

for my 1st video I’ll just post it to youtube . But for other videos I may make a early access patreon (like a week before the next video comes out free on youtube). Have to google how all that works (or if there's better alternatives) . Totally fine if you can't afford it (you'll get to see it for free on youtube regardless :D) . I'll be honest . I'm primarily thinking of doing it cause I need to pay off those student loans and I'm trying to hopefully move out of state in a few years. Plus, I love analyzing media anyways (so making it a part time job would be a dream come true .

[thedeviltohisangel]

All The Things I Did (8): That Girl Is Going, Going, Gone

a/n: ok a bit of a different chapter! this is more cass than john & cass until we get to the main event. i PROMISE the next chapter will pick up right where this one left off (don't be mad, be excited!). lots of warnings for this chapter and hopefully you guys don't change your love for her after reading about berlin. please let me know your thoughts & send in any interlude (aka novels) requests. always open. love ya xoxo

warnings: murder, blood, death of minor character, smut

Cass looked at Will with horror as he opened a black briefcase and set it on the ground of the alley way. It looked a lot like a gun. 

“Will, no one said anything about an assassination.” She had shot a gun before. Had been shot by a gun before. But she had never pointed one at another human being and pulled the trigger. 

“Cass, you’ve got this. You stay steady and you’ll be fine.” She rolled her eyes. Of course he would think it was so simple. He wasn’t the one expected to pull the trigger. To take a life.

“Walk me through the plan again.” 

“Dressler comes through this main drag on the way to his country estate. We track him to the edge of the woods where your asset has placed an obstacle for the car and when he gets out, you take the shot.” Cass knew it wasn’t going to go according to plan because things like this never did. Because Dressler had been on OSS’ target list for almost a year and they were the third pairing of agents to try and accomplish this task. “You scored better than me on the range. Don’t think for a second you aren’t the right choice for this.”

“And we avoid the fatal flaws from previous iterations. Don’t approach the vehicle. Maintain surveillance detection tradecraft. Make the exfil window.” 

“That’s kind of a big one, isn’t it?” he smiled. She was too busy testing the weight of the weapon in her hand to notice. “I meant it when I said I’d get you back home to him.”

“You got someone to get home to?” Will shrugged. 

“Thought I did. Then I got a letter last week…it’s for the best. Loving someone in this line of work isn’t for everyone.” Cass gently palmed his cheek.

“Then we’ll get you home to find someone who will make it work.” Find someone who would love those doubts right out his head the way John had for her. Find someone who’s passion for their work matched in kind. Find someone who would help him clean the blood off his hands when the war was over. 

----

It was Sunday and the roads were filled with people going to and from church. Cass was in a white dress, Will in a suit, as they each smoked a cigarette while they waited for mass to let out.

“When did you start smoking?” 

“I didn’t. Still don’t really drink either.” She dropped the cigarette onto the sidewalk and pressed it beneath her foot. “They take away your control over yourself. I don’t like the way they make me feel.” But she thinks she was learning to like the smell of smoke on the collar of John’s jacket. The bitter whiskey on his lips when he kissed her. The way his face flushed and his curls pressed to his forehead and his hands wandered after a night of them both. The doors opened and people began to exit the church.

“I’ll go get the car,” Will said, slipping into German with ease. Cass nodded and removed a compact from her purse. She pressed the powder to her nose as she caught sight of Dressler over her right shoulder. She counted two men who looked like SS hovering around him for protection. They escorted him to a waiting Mercedes, Will pulling up to her a few minutes after their departure. “Let’s go kill some Nazis.”

They took the occasional turn to ensure no one was following them, maintaining a safe distance from the target who was following the route from church to his compound outside of Berlin just the way they had mapped it. 

“Final weapons check.” Cass pulled the chamber to ensure a bullet was loaded before releasing it back into place. “Will…if something goes wrong, we abort and get to the airfield. We don’t need to force this.” 

“Copy, Lieutenant,” he smirked. “But it would be nice to be the one to knock Dressler off the list.”

“I agree but-” Her hands flew to brace against the dashboard as he slammed on the brakes. An overturned horse cart was blocking the Mercedes path and the car sat still as the occupants determined what to do.

“Come on,” Cass whispered, “Get out of the goddamn car.” The door opened and one of the SS officers got out and walked towards the cart. 

“Close protection remains,” Will muttered. When the second SS officer exited, Cass began to get nervous. He walked towards her side of the car and she rolled the window down with a smile.

“Good morning, sir. Is there a problem with the road ahead?” The pistol was hidden in the fold of her skirt, her thigh acutely aware of the metal. 

“Yes. We’ll need you to turn around so we can go back the way we came.” She knew there was no other way to get to the compound. Knew they were really just clearing them from the area. She opened her mouth but the words were silenced as Will whistled. The third door was opening. 

Will pushed the car into reverse and rolled over the foot of the man by her door. He dropped quickly with a yell. It took one second for her to lean her body out the window. One second for Dressler to look in her direction. One second for her to shut down her humanity, inhale, exhale and pull. Between his eyes and he was gone. A man who only answered to Himmler. It was automatic for her to move the gun to the man on the ground. He had seen their faces. Looked her in the eyes and stared at her legs. A loose end and he was gone, too. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she screamed as Will took them backwards down the road as quickly as he could. The second SS officer in the car and chasing after them as quickly as he could. “What did I just do?” 

“What you had to, Cass!” They both ducked as the first bullet hit the front of the car. “Hang on.” The car pulled sharply to the left as they raced through a field, another bullet pinging off the exterior of the car. 

“Two minutes until takeoff.” Her watch seemed to be ticking faster than usual. As if the universe was trying to close the gap between here and home. The Mercedes gained ground and nudged the back of their car, spinning them in a circle Will couldn’t regain control of. 

“Run!” They could see the clearing in the not too far off distance. Her knees hit the ground before she pushed herself up with urgency and took off at a sprint. She heard the consistent popping of a gun behind her but she kept running. 

Cass collapsed on the open hatch of the low profile plane and let herself slide down as it closed, Will stumbling in right behind her. 

“Do you think we did it?” she asked after they had settled for a moment. “Will?” She turned her head and noticed he looked a little pale. His breathing was labored. He turned and looked at her and he was afraid. She repeated his name again before she noticed his hand pressed to his side and the red blooming out from underneath it. 

“You guys good back there? Going to be bumpy if you can hold onto something.”

“Where’s your medical supplies? My partner’s been shot!” Cass pressed her hands with all her strength to the wound. She grunted as they took a tight turn and they slid to the wall of the plane. 

“Orange bag!” She grabbed it, the zipper slipping through her bloody fingers. Cass grabbed as much gauze as she could and the scissors, cutting Will’s shirt to get a better sense of what she was dealing with. 

“I’ve got to look and see if there’s an exit wound.” She rolled him slightly as he yelled in pain. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said but there was a hint of relief to her tone as she found a matching wound in his back. She took a deep breath as she cleared the blood in search of the bullet’s entrance. Once she found it, she held the gauze to it and tried not to wince as his breathing sounded like it was growing ragged.

“Cass…” The gauze in her hands turned red, a pool of blood seeping out from underneath him. The wound wasn’t clotting and the rudimentary kit had no platelets to help. 

“You’ve got to hang on. Save your strength. We’ll be back before you know it.” An hour and she was out of gauze, cutting fabric from her skirt in its place. Wil was sweating. Paler. Taking a long time to inhale after he exhaled. “Do you remember back in school when I almost quit? You stopped me on my way to the Colonel’s office and told me the OSS needed me, that Europe needed a free spirit to bring back their freedom. Now, I need you to do exactly what you told me. Pull up your boot straps, keep your head in the game and fight through it.” His hand weakly rested on top of hers.

“You…did…”

“I’m right here. We can talk about it all when we get back.” A tear rolled down his cheek and a matching one rolled down hers. “Don’t do this, Will. Please.” His hand dropped to his side and there was no longer light behind his eyes. 

“Lieutenant, we’ve got wheels down in 30!” 

“Tell the control tower that Captain Foster is…” Her hands were on his chest as she tried compressions. Her tears were coming quicker now. She watched them drop on his face and he didn’t react. All she could hear was her own heartbeat and the silence of Will’s as she pressed and pressed and pressed and nothing happened. She didn’t notice the plane landing. The pilot calling her name. She kept pressing and pressing and pressing. 

“Cassandra.” Harding’s use of her full name pierced through the fog. It was soft and familiar and safe. “Cassandra, you have to let him go. Let the doctors look at him.” She couldn’t even imagine how she looked. His blood all over her arms and clothes. Her dress ripped from when she was trying to make bandages. Tears dried to her face and snot dripping from her nose.

“Where’s John?” she asked. That was who she wanted to see. The only person who could offer her comfort in this moment.

“He’s probably halfway to Norway by now taking a second strike at those submarine pens for you.” She choked out a laugh. No doubt John would be willing to do an extreme act of commitment such as this. “Come with me to get some water? Maybe some food?” 

“That sounds good.” He offered her his arm and she gripped it like without him she would collapse, letting him escort her out of the plane. There was a group of people waiting and watching. The mechanics to make sure Cass was alive and well. The medical team. Extraneous personal who just wanted a glimpse of the covert American intelligence officers.

Harding led her to the mess hall, the orderlies freezing at the sight of her before scurrying to set the table. He pulled a chair out for her and she sat and avoided his gaze when he took the chair across from her. 

“Were you successful?” 

“Yes, sir,” she croaked out as the food and drink was placed in front of her. Harding waved off the second plate they brought. “I apologize I wasn’t here to give the briefing this morning. I should have been available for their questions.” 

“You can’t be in two places at once, Lieutenant. You were where you were needed most.” She nibbled on a bite of eggs and chased it with a few gulps of water. “They’re going to want you to talk to a shrink.”

“I’ve talked to them before. Know how to play the game.” He reached for her hand across the table and she offered it, wanting the reminder she was here and she was okay. He looked like he was inspecting the blood dried into her knuckles and caked under her nails. “He was a friend. An old friend.” The loss would sting for awhile. 

“The world is a better place for the task you two accomplished.” Cass took a shaky breath and blinked back tears.

“Then why do I feel so awful?” Harding knew the general feeling of taking a life. He had dropped bombs and shot guns and watched the havoc with a smile. But he had never looked another human in the eye and watched the life leave it. “Why do I feel like I did something wrong?”

“War is not natural. The role we play in it won’t be either.” She nodded with understanding. “You feeling up to interrogation?” They would want a look at her before she was able to change and clean the blood from her skin.

“I don’t have a choice.” She hoped it would be the first and the last time she had to relive the traumatic moments this day had brought. “Thank you, Colonel.” He indulged himself for a moment. Held her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. Looked into the eyes that he had found himself learning to love. 

“You should get going,” he whispered. Before I say something I might regret.

----

“How you doing, Bubbles?” The medical wing was the first stop John had made after landing. He hadn’t been able to find Mary to ask for an update on Cass and Colonel Harding had disappeared almost as soon as the last B-17 touched down. 

“Never better, sir.” His eyes were flickering to the door at the end of the wing. A private exam room. Crosby was also oddly quiet. They had seen Lieutenant Cooper be escorted back there almost an hour ago and she hadn’t emerged. They hoped nothing was wrong because they didn’t want to be in the radius of John Egan when he found out.

“That’s good. I was actually looking for you, Crosby.” John paused as both men continued to shift in their seats. “They not keep you comfortable?”

“No, sir, I mean yes, sir, I’m fine it’s just-” Bubbles stopped as the entrance opened and he recognized the secretary from Lieutenant Cooper’s office. She looked vaguely horrified to see John Egan.

“Mary! I stopped by but you weren’t there. Any word from Spook?” Bubbles, Crosby and Mary all looked at each other. “Clearly, I’m on the outside of whatever this is.” John’s finger twitched as his side. He wasn’t liking the feeling in his chest.

“Colonel Harding didn’t talk to you, sir?” He liked that even less.

“No. Mary, whatever is going on, I need to know right now.” Her gaze dropped to her feet.

“I can’t, sir. It’s need to know at this moment in time.” His chest heaved at her words. 

“You can’t?” He spun back towards the airmen. “Then why do you two look like you know something?” Why wasn’t anyone telling him anything? What happened that they were keeping from him. 

“Sir, we don’t really,” Crosby started. 

“Someone just please fucking tell me if I need to start grieving.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, Major.” She is trying so hard to smile because John is who she has been wanting all day. But he turns to look at her and he looks so relieved and she hasn’t felt safe enough to show emotion since she left his arms a few days ago. 

“Cass…is that…blood?” He walks towards her slowly. They had let her wash the blood from her arms and face but there was still some dried into her hairline and soaked into her dress. She nods as a sob rips from her throat. “Oh, Cass, baby.” She collapses into his chest as soon as he is near enough. 

“Will’s dead,” she sobs into his neck, “I tried so hard. I wasn’t good enough.” His arms were iron around her, the only thing keeping her standing. 

“I know you did everything you could.” He kissed the side of her head and stroked his hand down her hair. “I’m sorry you lost a friend today, my love.” The word felt like a slap across her face. She was so undeserving of his love after what she had done. She had taken the life of another, twice over. She could scrub at her skin but the blood would never wash away.

“Will you take me back to my room?” He slid an arm under her knees and lifted her so she was in his arms, her arms around his neck and her head resting on his shoulder. “Don’t let them take me away from you. Please.” 

He noticed the stares and whispers that followed as they made their way to her billet. He didn’t put her down until they were safely behind her closed door.

“We should get you cleaned up,” he noted as she sat on her bed and looked through her wardrobe for her shower kit. 

“How was Norway?” she asked quietly. 

“Successful. Had to leave Biddick in Scotland but he’ll be fine.” He found the basket of her toiletries and a towel. 

“Good. I’m glad you guys were able to use the information.” She smiled. “I’m sure Curt will find his way around quite well.”

“I can stand outside the door. Make sure no one bothers you.” John was offering her a few moments to shed her armor and embrace the emotions that were still heavy in her chest. 

“Outside the door will be too far.” Cass stood and pressed her forehead against his lips, asking for the strength of his touch during this weak moment. 

“I don’t want to be intrusive.” 

“I’m asking you to take a shower with me. That’s all.” They had seen each other naked. Shared a bed. Expressed the very real feelings between them. What was one more facet of domesticity gracing their lives? 

Cass undressed and stepped under the water and watched it run red down the drain until John’s chest pressed against her back. He wrapped one arm around the front of her chest and the other around her hips. She rested her own hands on top of his. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her head turned so she could look at him. 

“They sent me there to kill someone,” she whispered. John stiffens for an instant before he recovers. “I killed him and his bodyguard because he saw my face.” She hates that in the moment she had been thinking about the fact that they would remove her from the field if they thought her identity had been compromised. That she wouldn’t be able to do the job the way it was meant to be done anymore.

“It’s okay you don’t feel good about it.” Cass smiled. He was the only one so far to not try and convince her that she had done the right thing. That she had made the world a better place and shouldn’t let the specifics bother her. This was why she had sought him out in the first place. This was why she loved him.

“They’re grounding me. Desk duty until further notice.” He reached for the shampoo and lathered it between his hands. She titled her head back into his waiting hands and let his fingers work through the roots of her hair, the last of the red going down the drain, her eyes closing as he soothed the ache away. 

“Bet you’re as happy about that as I was being Air Exec.” 

“Touche.” Next was a bar of soap, Cass turning around and John dragging it across her skin and focusing on the few spots of dried blood she hadn’t been able to scrub off in her haste earlier. He seemed to get lost in a trance, circling her breasts a few extra times and moving it slowly down her torso before letting it slip into the wispy curls between her legs. “So much for just a shower,” she whispered as her legs spread a little further. 

“I’ll stop, Cass.” He moved his hand and she grabbed his wrist and moved it right back.

“Make me forget, John.” The soap was discarded out the shower stall, his fingers dipping between her folds and relishing in her warmth. Her forehead dropped to his chest as she shuddered. 

“Remember what you said to me before you left?” His fingertip circled her clit and she nodded. “Said I could show you how much I love you when I get back.”

“I did say that,” she gasped as he slipped a finger into her and the heel of his hand rubbed her bundle of nerves with every thrust. “Oh, I like that a lot.” 

“I want to show you, Cass, show you properly.” She brought him in for a kiss as she felt herself getting closer and closer. “Take my time and love you the way you deserve.” 

“I want that too, John, please.” Her hips rocked at the same gentle rhythm of his hand as she chased the feeling stirring low in her belly. 

“I missed this sight, baby.” He had her like this once before, had only been separated from her a few days, but it had been too long. “Love having you like this.” 

“John, I-” The words caught in her mouth as he hit that sweet spot with a curl of his fingers and stars danced across her vision. He held her as her knees buckled, his fingers not stopping, as she kissed him to try and keep quiet if only slightly. “Take me to bed. Take me to bed and make love to me, John Egan.” 

He would be happy to oblige.

[starsreminisce]

When examining the context of Lucien's statement "I am a mated male" now, it's essential to consider everything that preceded it. Lucien's desire to reach Elain predates his deterring Ianthe. Upon his return from the Spring Court, he already had a plan to reach Elain, recognizing that Feyre was the most direct route to her.

Lucien's assertion that he is a mated male stems from the reality that he is indeed mated, and his mate has endured something traumatic. She is now with someone who held his mind and threatened to harm his mother.

Someone who Feyre kept insisting manipulated her.

ACOMAF:

Lucien was shaking his head, panting, and whirled to us. “Get her back,” he snarled at Tamlin over the ranting of the king. A mate—a mate already going wild to defend what was his.

Lucien spun toward me, and that metal eye whirred and narrowed. Centuries of cultivated reason clicked into place. I was not panicking at my sisters being taken. I said quietly, “We will get her back.” But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily.

“How did you break free of his control,” Lucien said flatly from behind us. Tamlin gave him a warning growl. I’d forgotten he was there. My sister’s mate. The Mother, I decided, did have a sense of humor. “I wanted it—I don’t know how. I just wanted to break free of him, so I did.” We stared each other down, but Tamlin brushed a thumb over my shoulder. “Are—are you hurt?” I tried not to bristle. I knew what he meant. That he thought Rhysand would do anything like that to anyone— “I—I don’t know,” I stammered. “I don’t … I don’t remember those things.” Lucien’s metal eye narrowed, as if he could sense the lie.

“Forever,” I parroted, glancing behind—to where Lucien stood in the gravel drive. His gaze on me. Face hard. As if he’d seen through every lie. As if he knew of the second tattoo beneath my glove, and the glamour I now kept on it. As if he knew that they had let a fox into a chicken coop—and he could do nothing. Not unless he never wanted to see his mate—Elain—again. I gave Lucien a sweet, sleepy smile. So our game began.

ACOWAR:

I wondered what Lucien truly made of it. And the fact that the collateral in her friendship with Hybern had wound up being his mate. Elain. We had not spoken of Elain save for once, the day after I’d returned. Despite what Jurian implied regarding how my sisters will be treated by Rhysand, I had told him, despite what the Night Court is like, they won’t hurt Elain or Nesta like that—not yet. Rhysand has more creative ways to harm them. Lucien still seemed to doubt it.

I studied the broad, tan hand wrapped around my elbow. Then I met one eye of russet and one of whirring gold. Lucien breathed, “Where is he keeping her?” I knew who he meant. I shook my head. “I don’t know. Rhysand has a hundred places where they could be, but I doubt he’d use any of them to hide Elain, knowing that I’m aware of them.” “Tell me anyway. List all of them.” “You’ll die the moment you set foot in his territory.” “I survived well enough when I found you.” “You couldn’t see that he had me in thrall. You let him take me back.” Lie, lie, lie. But the hurt and guilt I expected weren’t there. Lucien slowly released his grip. “I need to find her.” “You don’t even know Elain. The mating bond is just a physical reaction overriding your good sense.” “Is that what it did to you and Rhys?”

Ianthe lifted her head, scanning my unsure, if not a bit aloof, face. “So you could be with them forever. And if Lucien had discovered that Elain was his mate beforehand, it would have been … devastating to realize he’d only have a few decades.” The sound of Elain’s name on her lips sent a snarl rumbling up my throat. But I leashed it, falling into that mask of pained quiet, the newest in my arsenal. Lucien answered, “If you expect our gratitude, you’ll be waiting a while, Ianthe.” Tamlin shot him a warning look—both at the words and the tone. Perhaps Lucien would kill Ianthe before I had the chance, just for the horror she’d put his mate through that day.

I asked Lucien to escort me, and he’d been more than happy to do so, given that his own status as a mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days. And given that Ianthe had been trying to corner him all day to ask about what had happened at the ceremony.

[midnight-pluto]

COFFEE: PG.14 — alleyway therapy sessions

COFFEE: tim drake x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: Tim meets a barista that gives him what he needed most — a large coffee with way to many shots of espresso. Though what happens when just a single action changes the other's life, forever?

coffee master list || prev. || next

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 15 2023 — 10:59 PM

IT HAD BEEN quite a bit of time since you started dating Tim. In all honesty, it was great — you’re dates were consistent, you got to spend time with his family, and hang outs outside of dates were enjoyable.

However, recently there has been a shift in your peaceful relationship. Tim had cancelled on you, again.

You understood the first time, he had rich kid socialite duties to attend to. The second time you were skeptical since it was back-to-back but he had given you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, so who were you to refuse? But this was the third time.

You both had planned on having a cute date at the park since it was a particularly good day to Gotham’s standards but as it turned out, he canceled on you.

Staring at Tim’s apology message, tears threatened to slip out of the corners of your eyes but you wouldn’t allow them. Taking a sharp inhale through your nose, you take your phone and leave.

Walking along the grim sidewalk of Gotham, you make a sharp turn through the alleyway for a shortcut to your apartment. Though doing that in Gotham wasn’t the best idea but you could handle a few thugs.

No one leave their house without a weapon in Gotham of course.

Halfway through the alleyway, a larger vine carrying two women emerge from the shadows in front of you — Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn.

“Ivy, I love you and all but are you sure this is a good idea? I mean like, I’m sure a lot of people out there deserve a good beating but not them! They look like they’ve had a rough night,” Harley told her girlfriend to which you sigh at.

“Of course the world isn’t done with torturing me,” you mumble.

“See!”

“Huh, I thought there would be a lot more shitty people that come down this route,” Ivy mutters.

“Are you alright sweetie? You look like you’ve had a bad day?”

“Wait Harles, you can’t be seriously starting a therapy session right now are you?”

“C’mon Ivy! This is the least we can do for them! I mean we inconvenienced them, potentially ruined their day by showing up — I mean like I would also be upset if a pair of heroes showed up for no reason — and! They look depressed! Look at their face!”

Wow. You didn’t know whether to be glad that someone noticed your sadness or offended at the fact that someone thought you looked depressed.

Probably a mixture of both.

Ivy raised a brow at her girlfriends notions and looked you over as you stared blankly into the abyss. Her eyes widen in realization of who you were, “Hey wait, aren’t you that viral employee of Café Remedies? Y/N, right?”

“That’s me,” you huff out, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“Holy shit I love that place! They make hella good macarons,” Harley interjects, “See! We gotta have a therapy session now.”

“Ugh, fine,” the redhead rolls her eyes, using her vines to create makeshift chairs for the three of you to sit on.

You stare at the sudden creation in shock but swiftly get over it once you see the couple sit down on them nonchalantly.

“So tell me, what’s going on currently?” the ex-psychiatrist begins, taking out a pen and notepad.

“Harles where on Earth did you get that?”

“It’s honestly nothing but like— he just keeps on canceling on me and I don’t know what to do, like is it me? Am I the problem—?”

“Slow down,” the blond interrupts with a calm voice, “Who are we talking about here?”

“My boyfriend.”

“Who’s the boyfriend?”

“Tim Drake.”

“Oh you gotta be shitting me! Him?” Ivy abruptly says, “He’s actually dating somebody?” She turns to look at her girlfriend to which she looks at her with the same expression.

“Apparently, I thought they were just rumors and speculation,” she shrugged her shoulders.

“We literally posted pictures of our first date— anyways,” you shake your head trying to get back on track, “He keeps on canceling our dates last minute and I’m starting to have doubts because what if he’s not into me anymore? Did he even like me in the first place — I was the one who suggested our first date so what if he just said yes out of obligation since I’m friends with Duke?”

“Wait Duke as in Duke Thomas?” the plant enthusiast questioned once more, to which you nod your head in response. “Holy shit you have connections.”

“But Duke isn’t even legally adopted by the Wayne’s,” Harley points out turning towards you, “Is he?”

“Well it doesn’t even matter since he literally attends the same events they do,” Ivy reminds.

“True I guess, but back on track. Tim keeps on canceling your guys’ dates?” the blond flips her notepad to a new page and clicks her pen once more.

“Yeah the first time he blamed it on his ‘rich kid duties,’” you quote.

“Why have money if you can’t even use it to bail out of something to spend time with you’re partner?” the redhead deadpans.

“And the second time?”

“He did the same thing but got me flowers as an apology and promised to show up the next time but uh,” you click your tongue, “He obviously didn’t show up.”

“Does he text or call you whenever he cancels on you?” Harley asked, putting black framed glasses on. Where she was pulling all of these things from alluded you but you didn’t question it.

“He texts me.”

She furrows her brows at that statement, “Can I see the text messages?”

Unlocking your phone, you press the messages app and show her your past conversations with your beloved. “We’ve called a few times during this time but that’s it.”

“Alright did you leave him on read?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Good he deserves it after answering your texts with the max of five words.”

SPECIAL NOTE: y’all might not hear from me next week since I got midterms but I will finish this smau before 2024 I swear!! also, I’m imagining Harley and Ivy are like they are in the Harley Quinn animated series — just an fyi

TAGLIST: @grandstrangerphantom @marsbars09 @fabitheraven @lovelypitasworld @dyjcksn @mae77eris @sugarrush-blush @djchik @soundsfunbutno @apizzacalledmel @strangetrashblog @cipheress-to-k-pop @harleycao @unhingedtimdrake @a-homosexual-homosapien @aquarii-doodles @love-stay @criminallycan @hecate-frenchfries @job-ross-the-second [ if your name isn't highlighted then I wasn't able to tag you. if you would like to join, feel free to send me an ask or to comment! ]

[moremaybank]

THIS LOVE (IV) — j.m

pairing actor!jj maybank x actress!reader

chapter summary you're set to turn down your management team's proposal, but a familiar face pops up and changes your decision. the plan is set in motion, and jj begins to move into your house. upon his arrival, you two share a moment that quickly turns sour and drives you away from him further.

warnings luke maybank (bleh), a trip and fall, an almost-kiss, language. let me know if i've missed any! [4.5k]

recommended listening daddy issues by the neighbourhood, nights like this by kehlani

this love — the complete playlist ;; the masterlist ;; the tag list

❝ CHAPTER FOUR ❞

Y/N

You press the lock button on your car keys, hearing the doors click. You make your way through the parking lot of Floyd Management. You’re about to tell Josh and Andrea that you’re saying no. You just can’t imagine having to embark on this journey with someone who left you with so much pain that it drowns out all the good times.

Contrary to what everyone may believe, this was not a rash decision. You chewed on it, going back and forth for days about whether or not you should just suck it up and agree to this fake relationship nonsense for the sake of the movie and the opportunities it might bring you. But then you thought about having to spend most of your time by the side of the man who broke your heart, kissing him and acting as if you’re in love with him. Re-connecting with JJ made your wounds feel so fresh again, and jumping on board with this plan would only add salt. 

And it’d sting.

You’re halfway to the entrance when you hear the voice of someone you never thought you’d have to deal with ever again. 

“Hey, there, sweetheart. You sure have done well for yourself.”

The hairs on the back of your neck rise, and you instantly grow cold. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to come.

“What are you doing here, Luke? Shouldn’t you be in prison?” 

Luke rounds your body so he can speak to you face to face. He raises a hand to toy with a strand of your hair but you flinch, backing away immediately and keeping your distance. All he does is laugh softly.

“You’ve definitely grown up. Interested in taking the original Maybank for a spin? Promise I’ll make it worth your while.” His voice drops an octave and it makes your skin crawl.

“You’re disgusting. Get out of my way before I call the cops.”

“What are you gonna tell ‘em, darlin’? That I spoke to you?”

You stay silent, knowing that he’s right. He technically hasn’t done anything, and you’d simply look foolish.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m here for you. I have a proposition for you, actually,” he says. 

“Oh, yeah?” You ask. “And what’s that?”

“I want you to help me take JJ down.”

You scoff. “I’m not helping you with anything.”

“You will if you don’t want me to release that sex tape of his and put an end to his career.”

You want to be surprised, but you aren’t. Luke Maybank has never been one to change or reflect on the mistakes of his past. He usually chooses the route of making more, and they’re always worse. And your sentiments weren’t just based on hearsay. You watched JJ go through all the misery caused by Luke. Had cleaned up the cuts and iced the bruises. Taken him to the hospital when his injuries were more than you could handle. You’d cook meals for him, bring an extra bag of lunch to school. Let him stay at your house when they’d shut off the power, water, and anything else they could thanks to Luke not paying the bills. He was an awful person, through and through, and though you were more than upset at JJ for how he scorned you, it’d never be enough to work with his father. 

“You know, all you ever did was make JJ feel small. You dedicated your life to drugs, alcohol and jail time, and you know what JJ got out of it? A mother who abandoned him thanks to your oh-so charming ways, and a father who did him more harm than good by sticking around. I wouldn’t help you if you were dying on the street,” you spit, shoving past him and trying to enter the building. 

“Then you can kiss your little costar goodbye.”

“Are you coked out right now? Or just delusional? I’m not going to let you do this to him. End of discussion,” you respond. 

“Well, you’d better hope JJ pays me and those girls that hush money. ‘Cause you know I’ll come to collect.”

-

JJ hurt you. The damage he’d done to you was once considered irreparable. It’d taken you years to work through that anger and betrayal and you still weren’t even a hundred percent there. But working with Luke? That was simply a line you’d never cross.

You ride the elevator to Josh’s floor, and once you reach it, you make a dash for the waiting area outside of his office. You spot the blonde you’re desperately in pursuit of instantly.

“I need to talk to you,” you blurt rather loudly. You don’t realize how booming your voice actually is until you realize that everyone else in the room is staring you down with confusion and shock written all over their faces.

JJ gets up from his seat and pulls you gently into a secluded area.“You didn’t need to come all the way down here to turn Josh and Andrea’s proposal down. I get that you don’t want to help me. I mean, why would you after what I did?”

“JJ—”

“No, it’s okay. Seriously, I did it to myself, and—”

You can’t wait any longer. “I saw Luke.”

JJ goes quiet immediately upon hearing those words. He’s so in shock that he doesn’t answer you right away.

“Did— Did you know that he was here?” You question, though you know the answer. You doubt he knew, because if he did, he wouldn’t be as quiet as he is at this moment.

He shakes his head slowly, “Nah…Nah, I didn’t.” He visibly chews on his words before hesitantly speaking again. “Did he…hurt you?”

“No, no. I’m fine. Just in shock.”

He nods. “He say what he wanted?”

You moisten your lips, and your eyes abandon his. “He wants me to work with him…help him destroy your career.”

“Right,” he nods, crossing his arms. “Of course he does.” 

You watch him pace down the hallway, but not too far, holding his head in his hands. 

“Goddamn it!” He bites out. The JJ you used to know would’ve punched through the wall in front of him by now, and you can tell that the current JJ wants to, but he holds himself back. Once he calms himself down a tad, he turns back to you. His steps are large, helping him make his way to you quickly. “Where is he? I’m gonna kill him for going near you, and then I’m gonna kill him again for trying to fuck with my life.”

“JJ, don’t. He’s not worth the energy,” you say, trying to talk him down from the ledge he’s on.

His hands come to rest on your shoulders. “Y/N, he approached you. He could’ve hurt you. And I wasn’t even there to…” he pauses, taking a breath, “to protect you.”

Your eyes dart away from his once again as your body tenses at his touch. He senses your discomfort, and pulls away from you immediately. “Uh,” he clears his throat, “Sorry.”

You shake your head, “No, it’s— it’s fine. You’re shaken up. And understandably so.”

Your eyes cautiously find his again once you find the courage, and you can see that he’s trying not to crumble. You know hearing his name alone is terrorizing, and now that he has to deal with Luke trying to rip away everything he’s ever worked for…your heart hurts.

“I wanna help you.”

JJ’s head instantly shakes, notifying you of his disapproval. “No. I don’t want your pity. I’ll be okay, I’ll figure this shit out. It’s my own fault that I’m in this mess anyway.”

“It’s not pity, JJ. I might not be thrilled to work with you or about what you did, but…I’d never knowingly let Luke hurt you.”

“You…you don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t,” you tell him. “I want to. But I need you to understand that this doesn’t make things okay. It’s just about work. Business. It can’t be anything more than that.”

“Well,” he says, proceeding with an immense amount of caution. “Will you at least let me tell you what actually happened that day? It’s tearing me apart, Y/N/N.”

For the first time since you’d seen him again, your heart warms at his use of your childhood nickname. You missed it terribly, and you partially wanted to slap yourself and bring yourself back to reality. You’re scared. He’s starting to make the walls you’ve spent so long putting up crack just by speaking to you and having that ache in those damn blue eyes.

“I’m not…I’m not ready, and I definitely don’t want to rehash everything right before we do this. Let’s just go into this meeting, tell everyone that we’re on board and take things one step at a time.”

“But, Y/N—”

“JJ, please don’t make this any harder for me.”

JJ looks into your eyes, and you hate it, but you both know you’re on the verge of falling apart. “Yeah. All right.”

-

“You know, if you weren’t paying us to do damage control, JJ, I’d say that you were trying to kill me.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Not that I’m his biggest fan, but this isn’t his fault. It’s on Luke. He’s always been selfish like this,” you add, trying to ease the prominent frown lines on Josh’s forehead.

Josh nods, “Yeah, I know. But I just don’t know how we go about this now. I mean, if we pay the hush money, there’s still a ninety-nine percent chance that Luke leaks the tape.”

“Then maybe we release it ourselves, like you and Andrea said,” you suggest. “That way, we can control how the public views it, and Luke won’t be able to hang it over our heads anymore. He’ll have nothing.” 

“Great,” JJ huffs, running both hands through his hair. “Now everyone’s gonna know I’m an ass.”

“Some of us already know that.” You earn a laugh from Josh, and a small smile from JJ to which you return. The both of you know that you’re half-joking, so nothing is taken too seriously. “For real, though. We explain to the media how Luke orchestrated the whole thing. It’s not the perfect solution, but it’s better than them getting to the public first.”

“All right, well, I have to talk to Andrea and get everything sorted out, but we need to get a head start on moving you two in together. My guess is that you’re going to need a few days to get used to being in each other’s lives again, especially if we want the public to believe that you two are in love. Oh, and we need to get a press conference planned so we can release your porno.”

“Can we not call it a porno?” JJ asks, half-heartedly glaring at him.

“It’s funnier that way.” JJ rolls his eyes, and you can’t help but snort. “Andrea and I will ensure that you know what you’re going to say about it.” 

“Nah. I got this. I’ll run it by you guys, but I know what I’m gonna say.” 

While they’re speaking about their upcoming plans, your heart is about to burst right out of your chest, and not in a good or exciting way. Pretending to love someone is one thing, but pretending to be in love with someone who you were enamoured with for over a decade after getting your heart stomped on by them…let’s just say it’s a completely different ball game. Yes, you’d convinced yourself that helping JJ was the right thing to do, mostly because you feared what Luke would do to him if you didn’t. But it’s now dawning on you that this is no longer just about filming a movie. Now you two are going to be watched constantly, even more so if everyone believes that you’re in a relationship. And not only that, but the tabloids will be inserting themselves into it constantly, which will more than likely complicate things. That was proven when JJ made his declaration to the world.

JJ notices the worry flash over your face as your mind wanders. “Hey, are you sure we need to move in together, like, right now? Isn’t it a little soon?” 

“Well it’s not like we can spring you forth into the public when you can barely hold eye contact for a minute. They’ll never believe that you two are together. So, yeah. I’m sure.”

“So…when will this all be happening?” You ask. You aren’t even sure if they can hear you, because you can’t hear yourself. The only thing your ears are picking up on is a high pitched ring brought on by your nerves.

“As soon as possible. I’m thinking by the end of the week. But it all depends on which one of you is fine with moving the other one in.”

Your eyes widen at the possibility of having to move into JJ’s house. You’re sure he has a nice place. It’s not even about that. The thing is, you’re already forcing yourself to go along with this ploy. And now you’re facing the chance of losing the comfort of your home and happy place? 

“We can…we can use mine,” you voice out timidly. 

“No, I can’t let you do that. I’m already dragging you into my mess,” JJ argues, albeit lightly. “I won’t put you out like that.”

“Well, I don’t want to be ripped away from my house and everything I know, JJ. This is already a lot.”

He extends his hand out, like he wants to grab yours and hold it in his they way he used to when he was stressed, but it stutters and falls back into his lap. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Besides, I have a million rooms in there that I never go into anyway. I’m sure you’ll make good use of them.”

He smiles slightly, “You got a game room?”

You know what he’s referring to, and you can’t help but sport your own tiny grin as well. “Of course I do.”

Flashback - Age 15

Y/N

“So, when you get outta here, and you become a superstar and buy an enormous mansion — which better have a bedroom reserved for me, by the way — what kinda rooms are you gonna put in it?”

You snorted a laugh. “What do you mean?”

He sat up from his place on your couch and rotated his body so that his head fell on your lap. He kicked his feet up on the other side, and looked up at you.

“Like, if I got my own mansion, the first thing I’d put in there is a game room. I’m talkin’ a pool table, a dart board, some arcade-style games like Pac-Man. A PlayStation. I dunno, the possibilities are endless. Oh! And I’d have a chess board for sure.”

You gave him a look, trying not to laugh. “You don’t know how to play chess, J.” 

“Hell nah, I don’t know how to play chess. It’ll make me look smart though.”

You hummed in agreement, letting your fingers run through his hair. You watched his eyes close as he relaxed into your touch. He let out an obnoxious moan when you started to scratch at his scalp lightly, and you smacked his chest with your other hand.

“Weirdo,” you mutter.

JJ simply laughs, before grabbing the same hand you’d whacked him with, holding it in his own. “Have you thought about it yet?”

“Thought about what?”

“What kind of rooms you’re gonna put in your house, dummy.”

You think for a moment. Different ideas float around, but then you land on one that you know you’ll make happen for sure. “Probably an entertainment room. Kinda like yours, but it’ll definitely have a big ass screen and comfy reclining seats like at the movies so I can feel like I’m in a theatre while crying my eyes out over my one millionth rewatch of One Tree Hill. It’ll have a mock concession stand, and a popcorn maker. And a Slurpee machine for good measure.” 

“Nice! I’m totally stealing that idea, just, without the whole crying over One Tree Hill part. ‘M not gonna waste my screen on that snooze-fest.”

“Oh, please. You were practically sobbing when Haley left Nathan to go on tour with Chris,” you mock. 

His eyes shoot open and his teasing smirk drops. “I thought we agreed that we’d never speak of that. I was high.”

“High on Naley, that is.” 

“Whatever.”

End of Flashback

“Then it’s settled,” Josh speaks, cutting you out of your daydream. “JJ, provided that Andrea and Y/N’s team are on-board, you’ll move into her house by Friday.”

Damn. Shit just got real.

JJ

It’s Friday, and JJ is now on his way over to your house in a U-Haul truck. He taps along to the rhythm of what he’s listening to on the radio, some Dua Lipa song that he’s certain is in the Barbie movie (and everyone should refrain from asking him how he knows that). The tapping is more mindless as he tries to settle the anxiety he has over this move. He knows that you’re already stretching yourself thin by agreeing to help him. But offering to let him move in to your house? Between this and his past mistakes, the guilt is starting to boil over.

Once he makes it to your gate, he hesitates for a moment before pressing the buzzer. 

“Who is it?” Your voice questions through the speaker.

“It’s J— ” he stammers, before correcting himself. “JJ.” 

So much for playing it cool. He couldn’t even say his name to you anymore.

“Oh, uh, hold on a sec. I’ll let you in. Just pull into the driveway, my security guy will come and help you.”

“Cool.” 

JJ hears a chime, and instantly, the gates begin to open. He drives through them, slowly pressing on the gas as he takes in the front view of your home. It’s fancy, but modest. A testament to you and your personality. 

Then, a tall man with a rather large build emerges from your front door and signals JJ to pull up to him. 

“You JJ?” He asks.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m Y/N’s security guard, Dave,” the man speaks, introducing himself. He’s handsome — not that JJ noticed — and definitely more on the quiet side. “Throw the truck in park. I’ll get it unloaded it for you.”

JJ shakes his head. “Nah, man. At least let me give you a hand.”

“It’s all right. It’s easier this way. Go on inside, I’m sure Y/N will give you the grand tour.”

JJ gives Dave a nod, and approaches your doorway. This is it, he thinks. He enters your home, stepping into the foyer and taking a look around from where he’s standing. His eyes immediately land on two grand staircases parallel to each other, with a luxurious chandelier hanging right in the middle of them. It isn’t on, but thanks to the sunshine bleeding through the ceiling-high windows, it sparkles and casts a magical glow into your home. There was art hanging on the walls, sculptures on the front tables, and flowers that add a pop of colour into the monochromatic room. 

But something JJ can’t ignore is the smell wafting in from your kitchen. The unforgettable fragrance of your signature cinnamon rolls fill his nostrils and instantly take him back to much simpler times. He can practically see you now, with your hair clipped back and your World’s Best Baker apron secured behind your neck and your back. You undoubtedly have flour on your face, and your tongue poking out as you concentrate. 

You’d always been so domestic, a feeling that JJ longed to be around when he was younger. It’s nice to re-experience it now, even in his older age. Especially in his older age. He’s been coming home to an empty and quiet house for years now, and he hates it. It’s hard not to let the loneliness get to him.

As if you’re reading his thoughts, you yourself come through the entrance, just like he envisioned. Hair pulled back from your face, your same old apron attached to you (though it had worn a bit over the years), and a swipe of flour on your cheek. When you come directly in front of him, JJ’s tempted to reach out and wipe your cheek for you. Every time he did so when you were younger, the action never failed to pull a shy smile and heated cheeks from you. But now, he fears that you’ll back away and avoid him like the plague if he acts on his internal desires. So he doesn’t.

“Hey, have you been waiting here for long?”

“Nah. Not at all,” JJ assures you. He motions to your cheek, “You got a ‘lil something there.”

He watches you retrieve your phone from your back pocket and swipe to open your camera. Your mesmerizing eyes widen, threatening to pop out of your head as you scramble to scrub the powdery ingredient off of your face.

“Right,” you clear your throat, putting your phone back into your pocket. “So, uh, why don’t I give you a tour. Show you where you’ll be staying?”

“Sure,” JJ agrees.

“Okay, well, follow me.”

You turn around and begin to walk through the foyer. JJ, slightly distracted (okay, more than slightly) by your figure, stalls for a moment before his brain reminds him that he’s supposed to be trailing you. He takes large strides, catching up to you and praying that you didn’t notice. The two of you make your way around the main level, visiting the kitchen, dining room, living area. You show him the backyard, your pool complete with a swim-up bar and a hot tub. He notices that you have a few surfboards lined up against the wall of the change room and he smiles, happy memories of the two of you cruising the waves together back home flooding his mind. And last but not least, you made it to the room he’d been waiting for. Your rec room. 

It’s just as you described when you thought it out all those years ago. A huge screen for movies and TV. Rows of theatre-like reclining chairs. A snack bar with a Slurpee Machine. 

Next, you two focus on the gaming section. A colourful glow casts over the room thanks to the arcade machines, and it evokes a sense of nostalgia for JJ. His eyes light up as they trail over Pacman, Street Fighter 2, Super Mario Bros, Sonic the Hedge Hog, and Mario Kart. But the twinkle in his eyes lights up further when he sees Dance Dance Revolution in the far corner. 

“Hey, remember how we used to dominate at DDR back home? We massacred John B and Pope every time.”

You nod, the recollection of those times pulling at your heart strings. Still, you’re afraid of thinking too deeply on them. “Yeah, well, that was a long time ago. And they aren’t here, so, I doubt it’d be as fun without them.”

JJ gives you an earnest look. “I get it, things are different now. But we live together now, Y/N. I want us to be able to get along. I don’t want us to feel like we have to avoid each other all the time, and I’m also not planning on spending the next couple months arguing with you every day. Maybe…maybe we could have fun. Make this whole arrangement bearable.” 

“JJ, it’s not that simple,” you say. 

He leans in, his voice soft. “I know it won’t magically fix everything, but we can try, right? For both of us?”

You gaze into his eyes, seeing a glimmer of sincerity. Sighing, you reluctantly give in. “Fine, but don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

He smiles triumphantly. “Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.”

The two of you step onto the dance pad, and JJ chooses a song. Slide by Calvin Harris pulsates through the room. Your movements synchronize as you dance, and soon, laughter is spilling out of your mouths and mixing in with the song. JJ can’t help but look at you for a moment, all smiley and happy in his company for the first time in weeks. It’s nice to see you letting loose around him, finally. Unfortunately, things quickly go south when his foot falters, and he stumbles, pulling you down with him. You crash onto the floor in a tangle of limbs, and JJ lands on top of you. 

Your faces are mere inches apart, your breaths mingling. For a fleeting moment, time stands still, and it feels like before. It’s like he’s been transported back to your adolescent years, still best friends and teetering back and forth on the line between best friends and something more. And just when he inches closer, debating on closing the gap between you, you scramble to get up, gently rolling him off of you and making a beeline for the door. 

“Y/N, wait!” He calls after you. He practically has to chase you down the hallway. He reaches out, fingers gently circling your wrist and stopping you from getting any further. “I…I thought we were having fun?”

“Fun?” You ask, your tone seeped with indignation. “JJ, you tried to kiss me! I should’ve known this was all some ploy of yours to get into my pants again. God, I should’ve known better.”

“Wait, what? Y/N, that’s not what this was,” JJ defends. “That whole game thing…I was trying to reconnect with you. I never meant to bring up the past for you and hurt you again.”

Your eyes avoid his, and he knows you’re too scared to look into them. He’d reach out and hold your head in his hands the way he used to, gently force your gaze onto him so you can see his vulnerability, but this isn’t the past. You don’t trust him the way you did before. Hell, you don’t trust him at all. So his hands remain at his sides.  

“I’m willing to try. I’m willing to earn back your trust, to show you that I’ve changed. But you gotta give me a chance. Please, Y/N, just give me a chance.”

You ignore his declaration, and his plea. “I’ll have Dave show you to your room. The bed’s all made up, so you shouldn’t have to do much.” 

JJ watches you walk down the hallway. “Where are you going?”

“Out. I have to get out of here.”

JJ wipes a hand over his face, letting out a sigh of frustration. He was finally getting somewhere with you. Things were looking up. But in a flash, they all went downhill, and now, he’s slowly losing faith. 

Good thing that isn’t going to stop him from fighting.

TAG LIST (JOIN HERE!): @mvybanks @jjsbank444 @softherveauxs @pankowperfection @rafesveryrealgf @dreamingwithrafe @maybankslover @tell-me-when-ur-ready @goblink1ng666 @sickyrat @la-neveritayque @dilvcv @obaex @love-ualways @em0-b0ysworld @slytherhoes @lanabrock @cecesrings @princessbetsy123-blog @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @maybank-archives @whoisdrewstarkey @aliyahsomerhalder @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @bbycowboi @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @maybanksbabe @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @lvvrgrl @dancinglikeaballerina @somerandos-world @shahanaazsoumah @peachpitlover @emmalandry @blueicequeen19 @l1lactheflower @fairlymax

[spacecasehobbit]

This got long and then I decided it probably should be it's own post rather than clogging up the OP's notes, but I've seen this post around a few times now and it has only gotten more frustrating each time I see it again.

--

As someone who has had the pleasure of visiting cities that are vastly more walkable than most of those I grew up in, or most of those which exist in the US at all, I want to be clear that I am 1000% in support of walkable cities.

This list, however, is... troubling.

For one thing, what do lawns have to do with walkability? Nothing, or at least nothing directly. Lawnowners who don't want sidewalks next to their lawns are a separate issue, and making them deal with sidewalks anyway will always be easier than trying to ban lawns entirely. Especially when lawns don't really pose a water issue in many areas where drought isn't an issue, and they do provide homeowners with an easy and low-maintenance way to fill their yard with something green and alive that helps combat things like global warming a lot more than a block of highrises with sidewalks right outside would do. Or yards filled with, like, rocks and decorative fake plants, which would be the option some people would chose if they weren't allowed to grow a lawn instead.

(Yes, trees could be planted along those sidewalks by the city, but it is still often beneficial to focus on one goal at a time instead of shooting yourself in the foot by demanding everything right out of the gate. Especially when most people aren't going to see these goals as connected, when plenty of people are also perfectly happy to let their neighbors walk down the sidewalk next to their lawn.)

Then there's the issues of single family homes and access in cities for cars. At least the single family homes point specified "in cities," which I appreciate and support to an extent, insofar as "homes" is used to mean "separated houses," here. I'm gonna be honest, though, given some of the other points, I'm not sure how much to read into this particular one. I am firmly of the belief that families deserve individual living spaces with a reasonable degree of privacy from their neighbors, though, as do any people who want a bit of privacy and a space to call their own whether they live in a city or outside of one.

It's not always feasible, and I support plenty of appartments and high-density housing within a city, too, but take that idea too far and no one deserves to be crammed into the modern equivalent of tennement housing just to make the city a few blocks shorter on any given side.

As for cars, while I also 1000% support better funded, more comprehensive, and more accessible public transportation options, banning cars entirely is nonsensical. Even the most accessible public transport will still have issues for many disabled people, especially disabled people who need to travel to, say, a doctor's appointment or emergency hospital visit at either peak travel times when public transport will be incredibly busy, or outside of normal travel times like the middle of the night when it doesn't, actually, make sense to have the same number of bus drivers/train operators/what have you running the same number of routes as are available during the day.

Plus, not allowing cars majorly complicates the ability of people to get out of the city (or into the city from outside of it) if they don't have somewhere outside city limits to store a car/friends to pick them up/other easily available options for switching to a car outside the city in the event they're going somewhere that's not on a train or bus line. Even if every small town were linked up to bus and train lines, it would still take longer and likely require one or more transfers and significantly more advance planning to get between the city and small towns, and it would still be impractical to link up every cluster of farmhouses in the country with easily accessible and conveniently frequent public transport options, even just to major hubs.

If you don't think that would only worsen divides between "city folk" and "small town" folk who already get enough propaganda shoved down their throats on both sides against the other side, then I really don't know what to tell you.

Just off the top of my head, it makes it harder for people to commute and would force many of those who can only find jobs in the city to live there whether they want to or not, and vice versa; it makes it more difficult for people - especially disabled people with special accommodations needs - to visit family living in different locations, which can cut vulnerable people off from vital support structures; it also cuts down on options with the greatest personal autonomy for people who need to leave dangerous situations that they'd be able to leave easier/feel more comfortable leaving if they had access to their own car (though I'll be fair - this one applies in both directions; free and accessible public transportation also makes it easier for people in bad situations to escape those situations when they don't have access to their own form of transportation. Which is among the many reasons I am not arguing against a need for free and accessible public transportation, too, here); public transportation breaks down sometimes, and people often still need to get places when that happens.

The "architecture must be beautiful again" point is, I'll admit, mostly just annoying to me. What gives one person the right to decide what counts as "beautiful" over other people? Plenty of people today think of the architecture and styles of, say, the 70s in the US as pretty ugly, but many people in the 70s in the US thought that style was pretty groovy back then. Most people would agree, even when it was more popular, that brutalist architecture isn't very pretty, but I can list off a handful of people I know personally who disagree and would bet that they aren't totally alone in their opinions. I do think it's nice to walk down streets with architecture I find beautiful, and I think a lot of America very solidly misses that mark, but it would probably be more practical to include in a list like this that architecture should be made with quality and care and an eye to longevity, again. And then we're back on that being really it's own topic, and only tangentially related to walkability of cities.

(Hell, plenty of people find lawns beautiful, and in fact not ruining the aesthetic is one reason plenty of lawnowners cite for not wanting sidewalks plonked in next to their lawns. So I'd argue that "beautiful things to look at while walking" is its own double-edged sword.)

As for these points:

All public transportation should be 100% free.

Every commercial street should have at least one bench.

Public restrooms must be free, common and accessible.

I don't have any gripes with those. They're just 100% accurate and should be priorities for anyone who cares about progressive policies around public amenities, whether or not you care about walkability.

[autistichumanoidtyphoon]

Vash being a bad driver is actually so important to me for so many reasons (not just as an adult who can’t drive shhhh) including but not limited to:

1. He learned to pilot/plan routes for/navigate fucking spaceships as a kid and nothing else really stuck

2. He’s so observant that he’s too observant. He’s noticing shit way too far away for no reason but not something tight in front of him

3. Cars uncomfy for someone so tall

4. DISASSOCIATION

5. Read statistics on motor vehicle accidents and fatalities and now his monologue when driving with passengers is just. YOU. WILL. GET. THEM. KILLED. YOU—

6. DISSASSOCIA—

7. Tech has changed a LOT back and forth over the years, he got into an automatic and lost his shit trying to shift gears

8. Cars are so expensive!! He could but so many donuts for the price of one Forb F250–

9. Brain fog and road blindness, possibly combined with extenuating factors like injuries or self-imposed punishments, have likely led to him being in more than one car accident over the years, and the odds of everyone coming away unscathed? Unlikely. The idea of him trying to save someone from where they’ve been crushed inside a car he was driving, of trying to keep them awake until authorities arrived, of crying, begging, pleading for them to be okay? He would blame himself for it forever, for the rest of his life, and now getting behind the wheel again just feels like the same thing over again, like no matter what he does it’ll be the same and that just gets him even more distracted which is even more dangerous—

10. Why drive a car when Tomas’s are so cute?

11. He’s bad at it for no damn reason. He doesn’t know. No one else does, either

12. THE IDEA OF BRAD AND/OR LUIDA TRYING TO TEACH HIM TO DRIVE?!? OF THEM LOSING THEIR MINDS BC HE SUCKS?!?!?!?

13. Knives being the one who learned to drive in those initial years (98 anime, at least) they were on Gunsmoke, saying it made sense because he didn’t need to rest like Vash did, always making excuses because that element of control over another person, being their sole transportation apart from walking? It’s a lot of power. Also something that, if he learned first, would be very easy for him to say that Vash was just bad at it to disparage him from ever getting better/going away

14. Did I say disassociation yet? Because road blindness and disassociation is so real

15. No one talks enough about Vash’s rampant alcohol problem even if he has himself under control more now the likelihood of him having had a serious problem in the past?? Pretty damn high. Add drunk/slightly impaired driving to list of reasons to endlessly blame yourself for someone’s death/injury?

16. He’s just lying bc he’s silly

[vibesoda]

a little bit of a goofy thing i wrote that will never see the light of day in which (iterum) feinberg meets soda

(warning for slight iterum spoilers, but not really)

Feinberg is used to monsters trailing after him if he makes too much noise traveling through an area, but the footsteps Feinberg has been hearing, while clumsy, are far too persistent to belong to a mindless creature like a zombie.

“Why are you following me?” He calls to the darkness.

The footsteps halt, but there’s no response.

Feinberg reaches for the trident strapped to his back. “Come out now and I won’t hurt you.”

“Okay, okay, drama queen,” a quiet, somewhat gravelly voice calls.

When Feinberg turns back to the woods behind him, a strange figure is standing in the clearing with their hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

Feinberg scrutinizes the man, his peculiar way of dress, the goatlike ears sprouting from the sides of his head, his lack of a right eye, leaving a dark socket in its place, his amusingly small stature, the list goes on.

Even among such outlandish features, the weirdest thing about the stranger before Feinberg is his nonchalance.

Feinberg is over a foot taller than the man Feinberg would assume to be a child if it weren’t for the scraggly stubble on his chin, but he doesn’t seem fazed at all by the height difference. He speaks casually even when threatened, as if he and Feinberg are old friends.

Feinberg has to admit, his curiosity is piqued. “Who the fuck are you?”

The strange man glances behind him before turning back to Feinberg, fidgeting with the cape draped around his narrow shoulders. “Oh, me? Um, well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to tell you my name. It’s Soda. Nice to meet you.”

Feinberg steps backward, already planning an escape route in his head. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

“Well—Well, of course,” Soda stammers, grinning. “It’s unique to me. Nobody else in the whole Universe has this name. I would be concerned if you heard it before.” Soda chuckles awkwardly, his tired eyes sharpening as he watches Feinberg back away.

Feinberg shivers. There’s a peculiar energy about this stranger. Feinberg’s intuition tells him that this Soda is hiding something, but it doesn’t appear to be malicious. “What do you mean, nobody else has your name? How do you know?”

“Oh,” Soda laughs again, but this time it’s less relaxed. “Uh, call it a hunch, I guess. I’ve met a lot of people and none of them have been named Soda—which tracks, um, because my namesake, well, it’s not even from this world.”

The things Soda says make no sense, but he says them with such clarity and confidence, as if he knows them to be true.

Feinberg can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right with this guy.

Feinberg decides to stop delaying the inevitable. He draws his trident, pointing it at Soda. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Soda doesn’t appear to be armed, but with everything else Soda has up his sleeves, Feinberg wouldn’t be surprised if he was somehow hiding a weapon under that comically large cloak of his.

“Hey!” Soda retorts, nonplussed by the weapon in his face. “Way to respect your creator, Feinberg. Damn. After everything I’ve done for you.”

So the second shoe drops.

Feinberg’s stomach plummets. How does Soda know his name? What’s this nonsense about a creator?

Feinberg decides he needs to vanquish this threat before it gets to him. He draws his sword with his opposite hand and pivots to the side, aiming a lightning-fast slash at Soda’s neck.

Soda yelps, and to Feinberg’s utter bewilderment, blocks Feinberg’s blade with the side of his bare hand, bleating as if he’d been hit.

Feinberg lets go of his sword in surprise, expecting it to stay embedded in Soda's flesh, but instead it falls unceremoniously into the grass without a speck of blood on the blade.

The insanity of the situation reminds Feinberg of a similar experience in the distant past. He was so sure he’d wounded someone, yet his blade came away clean.

The appearance out of thin air, the eerie sensation Feinberg felt looking in his eyes, the comments about the Universe…

Could it be?

Feinberg staggers backward in shock, using his trident as a crutch. “What are you?”

[spar-kie]

Big spoilers for Pokemon Rejuvenation 13.5's Renegade Route below the cut, but DUDE I HAVE THOUGHTS.

Dude M2 makes me want to fucking explode, I am OBSESSED with her. Like aside from her being the exact kind of insane I love in a character, beneath that is fucking FASCINATING.

Despite the timeline differences and insanity by years worth of wandering in a desolate fucking wasteland, you can see there's still Melia beneath all that. Melia who is sick and tired of the shit she's had to go through, seen the end of the world and gotten a second shot. And what she's done is declared it inevitable and decided she's going out on her own terms, and she'll do whatever she wants as she goes down, and is taking whoever has wronged her with her.

Like and that's what I love! Her anger isn't insane! It isn't directionless, she's clearly uncomfortable with the idea of killing Talon! Her first instinct upon seeing him rift is to save him like with Aelita before realizing that he would just be forced to rift again. And with Ren! She fucking hated Ren! He was on her (s)hit list! But when she realized that this was not the same Ren as her original timeline, one who wasn't selfishly going for power, one willing to die to atone for the sins of someone who isn't him, she let him live! And this was something she pointed out with Karrina! How the worst part of her was that at the end she was still trying to save her own skin with no attempt atonement or apology.

On top of that we can still see some doubt seeping through in how she asks the interceptor if there's a chance they won't end the world, before quickly dropping the subject when it was clear they had no plans on dropping it. And I love how Amber points out M2 likely doesn't hate everyone, but is just lashing out. M2 is damaged by her timeline ending and being stuck in purgatory for years. But despite this damage, there's still Melia buried under it all! And M2 tries to keep it all buried because I feel like she knows that Melia wouldn't do what she's doing, but that's fine, because she's not Melia, she's M2.

And I can fucking see it now, after her reckless use of the Archetype has let Genisis Syndrome ravage her and she's too weak to possibly stop the end she'd once thought so inevitable, she's gonna regret a lot of what she did. I dunno if she'll regret all of it, but she might regret at least not trying to stop the end.

I just wanted to put all this out there because I feel like people are gonna focus on M2's more outlandish behavior! And I'm glad for that, she's genuinely a very fun character and you can tell the folks who wrote her had a blast doing so, and I genuinely think introducing her as your companion in the renegade route was a fantastic idea. But there's so much more there and just AGHGHGGHGHGHG HER!!!!

And I promise I'm not saying that because I absolutely fucking called an evil and fucked up Melia pre-release, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[baileys-3]

NEW CHAPTER ONLINE on AO3 - Chapter 12

Sneak Peak under the Link

Yesterday evening they had planned to go on a medium-difficulty hike together, which usually takes three and a half hours. But with Kojo it will certainly take much longer, as the dog likes to take his time and insist on taking breaks. The tour is a circular route that Lucy found in one of her apps. Can you imagine that? There are apps for everything these days even for hiking tours. It took Lucy about two minutes to convince him that he too really needs an app like this. She had listed all the advantages of it f or him, some of which were really ridiculous. He had then pressed his phone into her hand and mumbled that she should just download it for him before he had to endure another long lecture.

Lucy hadn't missed the opportunity to send him the tour via a message link. This is why he ended up using the morning hours to click on the link and take a look at the trail and the corresponding photos. As he was someone who always woke up early, he had some extra time to play around with the app. Lucy had explained to him in detail that she did not want to be disturbed by her alarm clock on her day off just because he was an early riser and could not enjoy sleeping it. She definitely won't be leaving her apartment before 10 o'clock. After all, they had the whole day and didn't have to be home by lunchtime.

He has been sitting on his couch since 8:30 PM, scrolling through pictures of the hiking route. He admits that the pictures only increase his excitement, rather than dampening it.

The tour is a circular route that starts at Mulholland Dam. It leads along Lake Hollywood for a considerable distance (about 1.2 miles) before the ascent begins. The climb is long but not too strenuous. At the end, they will reach the so-called Wisdom Tree, which, according to the route planner, is a magical place. Especially at sunset. Well, that won't be the case today, because they will arrive there well before that. Then it's another 0.3 miles or so uphill before they reach the highest point. The Cahuenga Peak. This location is situated west of the famous Hollywood sign and is said to offer a breathtaking view of Los Angeles, according to the reviews.

It's a smooth descent except for a short stretch on a rocky dirt track, which is still quite manageable, but still offers a good view. After about 5.5 miles from the start, the trail leads to Lake Hollywood Park which has plenty of picnic tables. Lucy had offered to take care of the food since they plan on eating there upon arrival. After that, it is just about a mile to the car park. The final part of the route goes downhill towards the lake and then curves back along it.

Tim looks through his backpack again and checks that he has packed everything. His job is to take care of hydration with water bottles and bowls for Kojo. The route also has the advantage that it passes several water refill stations. He has also packed a blanket in case they decide to make a spontaneous stop and want to sit down. Which is very likely with Kojo. Other than that, he makes sure to pack some snacks for the dog in his bag.

He is tired of waiting any longer, so he ends up leaving his house too early, which will result in arriving too early at her place. He is counting down the minutes to finally see Lucy again. That's how things are with him now.

When Tim has parked his car near the building complex where Lucy lives, he briefly considers whether to leave Kojo in the car or take him with him. He decides in favor of the latter, as Lucy is certainly not ready yet and Kojo would then have to wait forever in the car. Besides, Tamara is not at home, so he can turn up at Lucy's front door with Kojo without any problems.

After a short while, he reaches Lucy's house and knocks on the door. She responds with "The door is open." When he opens it, Kojo rushes in without giving him a chance to stop him. It seems like Kojo is in a hurry to get to Lucy, and he can't blame him for that. He closes the door behind him.

"Why don't you lock your door? Anyone could just march in. That's completely unacceptable."

Her voice comes from one of the rooms. He thinks from her bathroom.

"I only unlocked the door a few minutes ago because I thought you'd be early ..." With that, the bathroom door opens, and Lucy steps into her living room, putting an earring through her ear at the same time. "... and I would probably be in the bathroom or something, unable to let you in. “And ..." she looks up at him, smirking after she has successfully secured her earring. "... clearly I was right."

[thepalaceofmelanie]

Martell Week: Character of the Day: Elia Martell

Tag list: @adriennegabriella @morby @wingsoftheangels @candycanes19 @tashastrange89 @elvinaa

(A/N: Going an AU route with this one. As someone who like Elia has, chronic illness; I wanted to write something on this. I’m not planning on having this as a self-insert but I’m basing certain things off my issues. Character won’t be named or described.)

TW: Medical talk, wanting to give up (not the hard S, you two are just tired.), mention of cheating and death.

Song inspired: “Aerith’s Theme” from Final Fantasy VII

Character of the Day: Elia Martell

__

“Elia, how are you?” I asked.

It was shockingly a good energy day for us both. We found ourselves at a Tim Hortons having something to drink. The smell of the mocha ice capp filled my noise, made sure to have extra chocolate in it.

“Hey you, I’m okay today. How about yourself?” She asked in returned.

The weather was warm, so at least our anemia won’t start making it cold for us. Elia took a sip of her iced tea and I could see she was trying to smile through a storm in her body. Both of us born premature, but our conditions differ a lot.

“To be honest, I’m just tired of it all. I don’t want to die, but I just want to sleep till they make a cure for everything. I can’t regulate my thyroid; I’ve only done it once… so now the Endo, thinks I have not just Hashi’s, not just hypo, but also hyper! Honestly, between the medication, the blood work, the side effects, and everything, I just…”

“I understand, and then when they tell you “it’s going to be okay.” a part of you feels like they’re lying. They don’t understand what people like me and, you go through every second of our lives. Then again, we don’t understand either. So, the point is moot.”

Elia, she must have had a rough morning though with the kids; she didn’t even braid her hair like she normally would.

“How’s Rhaenys and Aegon? I’m guessing their Father is watching them?”

Meaning Rhaegar, I don’t like using his name or talking about him. I mean he cheated on Elia, how does someone forgive that?

“Yes, he is. It’s his day to have the children anyways. So I guess it works out for me.” She semi-chuckled.

“Your heart?” I asked.

Elia’s eyes tried to give some spark of hope; I knew it was bad news.

“They still don’t know what’s going on. They tried an echo-cardiogram but they found nothing. I nearly dropped to the floor twice yesterday.”

Yikes!

They really need to find out what’s causing this and soon. I’m worried she’s going to hit her head and those children won’t have their Mom around. I feel her take my hand in hers, I could see her trying to hold back tears.

She’s scared.

I don’t blame her one bit.

“All I feel that I can do is say that “I’m sorry” but honestly, we both got to be fed up hearing that phrase. I don’t know what I can do for you to be okay as best as you can feel.”

“Just still be my friend. Knowing I’m not alone, helps at times.”

I nodded, if that’s what it takes, I can try. She knows we can’t make promises; some of us just can’t keep them. If we do, nine-times out of ten, we have to cancel last second. For us just to meet together today was a big thing.

We both drink our drinks in silence.

Moments past, the sounds of the shop filled our ears; the smell of the cafe woke people up and the two of us were thinking of what to say next.

Both of us probably already wanting to go back to sleep.

“What was your panel?” She asked.

“My T4 was normal, it’s the TSH was high. About 36.88.”

“How do you feel though?”

“Believe it or not, I’m fine. I feel “normal” I suppose. I’m not tired or losing hair any different or whatever else. I just been having a hard time eating and honestly taking the meds at times.”

“Please tell me you didn’t cause this.”

“Why my thyroid is effed? I can’t tell you anymore, I don’t know. I’m more worried about my mental health half the time.”

Elia squeezed my hand lightly, trying to get me to smile. I can’t smile at this, the fact that my body is ill like this and I’m not sure if I’m at fault or not, really does suck.

“Yours?” I asked.

“It’s a little under but I hope the new dosage helps.” She smiled.

“Yeah, for sure, you need your energy basically watching over the children. At least Oberyn and Doran are helping as well. They’re both good men.”

“I do love my brothers, Oberyn though is my favorite; out of all my family, he supports me the most.”

I felt a pang of envy in my heart, her family loves and cares about her. My Father...not so much at times. It took him years to believe in my depression and anxiety. Elia could tell something was wrong, her facal expression showed it.

Sorrow…

“I’m fine, I’m honestly happy for you. It just sucks that not everyone’s accepting like Oberyn and Doran are.”

“I agree with you; just because your Father doesn’t see your illnesses doesn’t mean it’s not there. It’s real just like us, it exists like us, but it haunts us.”

We both pause, feeling like time stopped. We both finished our drinks and tossed them into the trash, before sitting back down.

“Will you be alright?” Her voice cut gently.

“I will be, I’m just used to it by now. I’ve had certain issues from a young age and the thyroid didn’t get put on paper till a few weeks before my fifteenth birthday. Picture this, you get home from a wonderful vacation with your Father; you go into the doctors and they tell you, you have this issue and basically you’re stuck on meds forever, it messes with everything in your system. Seriously, this sucks, but I’m just so used to it by now; what people say to me doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

Elia didn’t say anything. I could tell she was taking in what I had said.

“But you’re here, you’re dealing with it.”

“So are you.”

She’s right…

We are.

“Your hopes and dreams matter, of course I could go into the whole “Life gets better” and such, but we don’t always want to hear it. That’s fine...do you remember how I asked if we could both do this thing? That list about reasons to keep going.”

“Yeah, I wrote mine on my phone.”

I take my phone out and go to note pad. I noticed she took out her notebook and sat it in front of her. She asked me to list at least three things before we met next, I guess we were both able to do it.

“Okay we’ll trade off. I’ll go first. First reason to keep going is to love my children and be a good Mother.”

“That’s a real sweet one. Okay first reason to keep going, to find a partner.”

I blushed, but I’m lonely. It didn’t matter if it was platonic or romantic at this part; but I knew that would be years later. I have to work on myself first.

“Second reason is to support my brothers when they’re dealing with something.”

“Elia, c’mon, you could have had the first one just be “family” and called it a day!”

The two of us laughed; she knew I had a point, but we both did need the laugh. I’m thankful for her friendship. Elia was always that person who would pour her heart and soul into life; she truly loved her family.

Damn you, Rhaegar, you fuck up.

“Reason two, to kick the ever living crap out of Rhaegar. Listen, if he wasn’t happy, he should have just told you and do something about it. That’s not right what he pulled; did he even ask for an open marriage or whatever before you found out?”

There’s nothing wrong with polyamory, open marriages, ect, but for the love of the gods!

“No, he didn’t. To say the least Oberyn and Doran want to throw hands,” Elia laughed. “Okay, seriously, last reason. To actually have a good life.”

Honestly, that was a reasonable thing. It would be hard but you know, sometimes we don’t know what life has planned for us. I just hope she doesn’t see her last sunrise before achieving this. With being chronically ill, it’s like our bodies are time bombs, depending on what’s going on with the person. With my thyroid issue, my thyroid is slowly dying because the white blood cells are attacking it.

“Yours?”

Oh right…

“To see my favorite band in concert for the third time.”

I could see her smile at that; to her it was a good one. The rest of the time, we talked; we talked about old memories, we cried, laugh and just tried to live for the moment. But little did I know was…

This would be the last time I’d see Elia.

[imminent-danger-came]

what would your ideal lmk season five look like? specifically for mk's character arc because I love your takes on that

I've said it before I want that boy centrifuged by the narrative

I didn't get the title of "MK death spiral blog" that one time by that one guy for nothing. I am 1000% on the "MK getting centrifuged by the narrative" pain train.

Now, in all honestly my ideal lmk s5 is the one they give me. These writers are so talented and they know more about their story than I do, so whatever they got planned is going to make me lose my mind!

But, indulging myself a little bit, here's a list of some things I'd love to see in s5 (or beyond???):

Sun Wukong V MK fight. Anyone who has followed me for any amount of time probably knows this. I need a SWK and MK fallout and then I need them to build their relationship up stronger.

MK Guilt Over Azure's death. That boy felt guilty for "releasing DBK from the underworld" when it was definitely Red Son who did that. MK arguably had a huge hand in Azure's death, being the one to cause Azure to finally lose his grasp on the Jade Emperor's powers.

Samadhi Fire Part 3. Anyone who has followed me for any amount of time also probably knows this. I want MK to be in the position of Samadhi Fire Mei and Jade Emperor Azure, unable to control his own powers, and needing to be talked down by Mei or someone else. We got one half of a 3x10 parallel in 4x08, and I need more!

Mei Dragon Form. Please for the love of god I want her to turn into a dragon so bad—nonnegotiably while she's protecting the people she cares about, for the sweet 4x05 callback. In my heart of hearts, I want Mei to unlock dragon form while trying to reach MK during Samadhi Fire Part 3. If we don't get another "We will figure this out together" what's the fucking point.

MK Subodhi Training??? Or honestly, MK interacting with real Subodhi in general. Did you see his face after the world reformed in 4x14? That was not a face of confidence.

Sandy Backstory. Which partially includes Pigsy. I just want to know what his 2x08 PTSD flashbacks were all about. *pulls out conspiracy board* I want to say those flashbacks take place at the 1x09 battlefield, which has helmets that we then see in 4x01, but who knows!

Sun Wukong homeless arc. Flower Fruit Mountain was destroyed during the s4 special, and I want to see the consequences of that, especially if MK feels guilty about it! Which he probably will!

MK Spiral! This isn't as much of a prediction/want as it is just a fact. MK is going DOWN next season and I'm here with popcorn and tears. I need a FULL harbinger of chaos meltdown.

Macaque is just there, hanging out. After everything that happened last season I hope we see Macaque around a lot more, because I love him but also because I need MK to yell at him too. Also because "Whatever they're scheming we can handle it."

Yellowtusk helps Ne Zha maintain the seal. Yellowtusk had an important skill in helping Azure contain the Jade Emperor's powers—I'm wondering if he could do the same with Ne Zha's lotus seal.

MK Flashback. You know, how he got to Pigsy's, the circumstances of his birth, an explanation for what the fuck the stone monkey is/all those stone animals were, all that good stuff.

Bye Bye Bandana. If/when MK snaps and completely loses himself to whatever he is, I'd love for the headband to come off. Really cement it.

MK Relives His Nightmares Again. Oops. After going "So we never have to live our nightmares again!" in 4x12 I now need the opposite of that to happen. Sorry MK. I need his new "Better than we found it" resolve to fold like the soggy french fry it is. That ain't lasting.

Hurting The People You Care About Theme. So with "hurting the people who care about you the most" and everything being "to pain", I really want this to go a "hurting people is a part of life" route. We're already almost there with "Mistakes happen but as long as you leave the world better than you found it then it's all good." Like that's SO close. Come on s5 give it to me.

Wukong Killed Macaque Reveal. *twirls hair* This would sooooo not bode well for MK.

MK Gets Out of His "Good Guy" "Bad Guy" Way of Thinking. I think 4x11 as an episode really highlights this. MK views people as one or the other, ignoring the vast grey area that a lot of people fall in. Wukong in his past wasn't just "a bad guy", just like he isn't currently flawless or wholly "a good guy" now. He's just a guy.

I could probably go on forever, so I'll cut this off here!

[cannibal-nightmares]

probably ssmi-disturbjng nonsensical vent ramble because I can't sleep

thinking about how i van get free councilling from the local college from to-be shrinks in training--thinking abt how id be some college yuppies pipedream (or nightmare), a schizo in the flesh. i donf actually restrict defining myself as schizophrenic, but-sorry-the things I need therapy for agitate me so bad, I'll admit it, and I'd want a seasoned professional if I want to get anywhere beyond teaching someone like a lab rat; thats not lack of compliance, its self-awarness. tbh I will actually probably try this route but i also know too clear the reality.

the reason I care about this at all all of a sudden is: I've reallized just what it's going to look like. i need help i do i want to see these doctors and i *have* do you hear me i *have* and I've *tried* and I *continue* to try; I've let them poke at me and ask questions and drag me along--each time, whether they notice it or not, whether it becomes morethanclear, whether I noticed in the moment and say it out loud or if I keep it to myself or if I realize it afterwards, each time i hear overwhelming voices and see stuff. I learned recently rhat my last doc wrote almost a mini psych eval at each meet we had, and in her notes, on each day, she wrote something like "patient is calm, not anxious" etc, but did you know every time I saw her, the room would melt and it was so distractinf. jve had docs get annoyed with me for carrying around a list or script but man I can't remember anything or form any words when everything around me is sinking into the floor. this is all to say, this is all to say, if I want my medical help to be successful, I need someone in my corner to say, "Hey, he might be schizo but please god listen to him," and learne better coping skills even though my current skills are so off the shits at this point that I ended up teaching my last,shrink from a year ago new things aaahhh I just need it in writing that I am not dangerous they all have gotten so scared of me when it's just me who's terrfied of them and forces beyond fhem.

it's a long long story at this point but they're trying to refer me to a neurologist again. which *is* what my original goal was (because thats where my original pcp had me). and I *will* follow through if the path leads there. but. i have so many physical problems now I (also?) want them to redo a general exam. tbh I kinda thought thatsnwhere they'd restart.these people don't know me at all. eleven minutes, she spoke to me for 11 minutes. when I had a regular pcp, one ofnthe *first* things I mwntipned was a weird pain in my left side right behind my bottom ribs. it was dull an inconsistent but I told her. she poked at it, etc, ans told me, quote--I will never forget this--"there's not really much over there that this could be." nothing? oh really nothing? is there just a void in my abdomen over there? im saying this because it's still a problem. ofc it's only gotten worse. it's sharp and it moves around tjat general area. and it wakes me up and scares me. why did they leave me to the wayside why am I still here. I feel like that is/was such an easy look-at than all of my nerve problems and yet? also I repeated myself every time I saw her that it was still an,issue. "it's too expensive to--" ok money means nothing to me if I'm dead. if this was a little thing that has exploded into life or death, I'm going to lose my mind.

im convinced im a dead man walking. I don't think im actively dead, but that im good as dead. my second best plan of action is to wait for the jnsurance market to open november 1st, my first best plan is only the best if I get the gamble and the timing right--high risk high reward. ill be honest, I've thought about walking into an er and admitting myself but they're going to focus on the wrong thing; the social worker I saw recentlyn was concerned for my mental health, sure, but she was more concerned and angry for me that my physical issues have been strung along from day one. if I'm not already insane, fhis is going to drive me to the edge. it already has. ill admit I've thought about doing stupid reckless things to land me somewhere closer to where I need to be. thisnsystem is going to eat me Alive I know it; the best case scenario is in 10 years (if I live thatclong) I will look back on all of this as an embarrassingly funny memory.

fheres *one* thing I haven't mentioned to a single soul yet but it's because idk how. it's like a beast in cage that hasn't realized the door is open yet. I have some major delusions around *it* and idk how to face it alone. but I also don't knownhow to invite anyone into this world. thisnis also why I wouldn't mind a shrink. byt I'm a special case aren't I? I hate it. I don't want to be special. I literally sound like a TV stereotype don't I.

I'm shooting blind shots in the dark at this point why are people mad at me that nothing is landing? I have this constant g overwhelming feeling of I want to go home. i want a hug and i want to go home. There is no physical home is there im in my room rn and I want to go home it's pathetic at this point. I didn't wait. do you hear me? I didn't. I've been in this since the end of 2021. where are we? why didn't they listen to me? I keep finding myself asking that. I know thisnwhole thing is just me repeating myself but there is literally nothing else I can do rn. all I can rn is wait for my nurse to reply back to me. my nerves are on fire and they keep waking me up as cruel reminders. I just want to go home. I am selfishly tired of being the strong one at work. why is it always me? selfishly, why? in one breath im the crazy untrustable young schizo and in the next breath I am the battering ram, the pillar, the mediator, the steady voice of reason. verstehst?? "mad is the man forced to feel the emotion he is forbidden to have at the same time." I,dont wanf to talk about it, I just want to go home.

"I slide off the spectrum, I don't fall anywhere. I'm not counting errors."