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

[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.”

[cloudcountry]

Plot twist: Tokyo Debunker is actually an otome game that's why there're wedding cards (developers are trying to keep it a surprise)

How would the wedding or marriage life be with the ghouls

*Your opportunity to dream of your perfect wedding ceremony with a certain someone 👀*

Side note: is it actually a plot twist? Probably not

SUMMARY: the proposal / the wedding / how your married life is afterwards headcanons!

CHARACTERS: Edward, Alan, Jiro, Ritsu, and Leo.

COMMENTS: dgsfhaj ritsu wedding ritsu wedding....EHEHEHE IM GIGGLING RN ANON THANK UUUU this is so funny like . imagine the devs were like SURPRISE!! ITS AN OTOME NOW!! i doubt it because theres so many guys and planning out routes would take a hot second (stares at cybird) but yk if cybird can do it maybe they can too................

leo is an asshole i am not going to hold your hand...i am sorry.

Edward actually proposing to you would more likely than not be a SHOCK to Rui and Lyca. What do you mean he’s taking something seriously for once? Rui even asks if Edward is aware of what he’s doing, to which your now fiance gets all dramatic and whiny about how mean Rui is.

Planning the wedding itself is more of a hassle than you thought. Edward, still as Edward as ever, has absolutely no hand in the planning. He says it's because he trusts his darling human’s judgement with these things, but you know that’s only half the truth. Rui ends up helping you with virtually everything, and if it wasn’t for him, the ceremony itself would have been much more disorganized.

Speaking of the ceremony, you opted to have a nighttime wedding for the sake of your future husband. It would likely be indoors, with plenty of candles for ambiance. His vows are actually very sweet! They aren’t overly sappy, but he does put aside some of his teasing in order to be upfront and honest with you.

I think he’d have a small wedding...only inviting close friends and stuff. It’s important that Rui and Lyca be there, at least! Your other human friends may also attend, so long as they don’t cause a scene. He’s serious. Nothing is going to go wrong on the day you and Rui planned so meticulously.

Having Edward as a husband would definitely be interesting...definitely a househusband LMAO. Rui is exasperated because he’s been trying to get Edward to clean up for SO LONG, and now you two get married and he cleans up for you? What are these spouse privileges! Edward actually attempts to cook now!?

He might claim it’s because of his YouTube videos but please. He loves you. YouTube might motivate him and teach him new tricks but he wouldn’t have looked for them if it wasn’t for you.

Alan almost doesn’t propose. It’s another one of his self sabotaging moments that he’s had while being with you, one that you happen to pull him out of when you bring up getting married first. He genuinely doesn’t understand why you’d want to marry someone like him, even though he’s already brought a ring and wants to—

Wanting the best wedding event possible, he yields to your opinion every single time. He still contributes to the planning and helps wherever he can, but he wants the day to be special and perfect for you, so he doesn’t try to butt in and talk over you.

A small ceremony again! I genuinely do not think he’d invite a lot of people at all...it’d be mostly your friends, from school and your work (if you have any.) If anyone from Darkwick is on your invite list, I think Alan would be a bit embarrassed to see them depending on who it is.

Do NOT invite Leo do NOT INVITE LEO. He’s already foaming at the mouth the second he hears that you and the himbo are getting married. Also, please have bodyguards to prevent him from crashing the wedding. Influencers are crazy, man.

Married life with him is really sweet, as you’d expect! He works, so you’re free to stay at home or work if you wish. You both work out a system at home where each of you have equal responsibilities around the house. For example, if you cook, he’ll do the dishes, and vice versa.

Alan isn’t going to catch onto any passive aggressive or subtly attempts to communicate. If you need a problem solved, or just want to talk to him, please just let him know. He’ll feel worse if he felt you couldn’t tell him, especially now that he’s married to you.

Jiro probably proposed before he even really had a ring. He just turns to you one day and asks if you’ve ever thought about getting married, and if so, would you want to marry him? Obviously you fumble a bit, flustered at his sudden declaration, before Yuri starts screeching at him that that is not the proper way to propose!

Jiro promptly apologizes and immediately leaves to get a ring, leaving you and Yuri sputtering in the lab. Yuri runs after him and tells you to stay there, that the ring should be a surprise for the spouse! before taking off.

It’s chaos. But you know, it’s a loving type of chaos. Yuri will be by you and Jiro’s sides the whole time, gracefully holding back his two cents during the wedding planning (even if he doesn’t agree with some of the choices...)

Zenji will be there, and he will be SOBBING. Please pull him aside into an empty room or something to talk to him about how much you love his brother and he’ll be a MESS. He’s so happy for you two, he just wishes he could be there to help with the wedding. Tell him he’s doing enough just by taking care of the two of you. He’ll try to hug you and fail, but the sentiment is there.

Married life with Jiro will involve visits from Yuri whenever possible for his health, so be prepared for that! (Zenji will also be around, but he knows when to leave.) Other than that, things are pretty calm. He stays home and cleans the house, you go out and work.

If you ask nicely, he’ll read you bedtime stories before bed at night, and you’ll giggle at his monotone voices. Jiro doesn’t understand what’s so funny, but the sound of your laughter makes him so happy...he’ll keep doing what he’s doing forever.

FINALLY THE ONE I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG ahem. Ritsu is a very classy young man. He dates to marry to the extreme, and likely had a hypothetical marriage page in his files for you the day you get together. Obviously it’s not something you know about—he’ll tell you after you’ve been dating for a year, though.

Buys a ring during your final year in Darkwick. You definitely have a promise ring already! He’s actually really excited to make you his spouse, but you wouldn’t know it unless you really pay attention to him when you’re alone. Also, it’s very important that you meet his parents.

His mom is really nice and welcomes you with open arms, but his father is harder to please. I can imagine the Shinjo family is very strict with who marries into the family—but honestly, Ritsu refuses to marry anyone else. It’s a rare moment of him deviating from his father’s footsteps...

He justifies this by saying that getting married to anyone else would hinder his productivity in the long run. They wouldn’t know him nearly as well as you do, and they never would have worked with him before, so they would lack understanding. Ritsu basically defends your resume in front of his dad. Yikes.

Anyway, the ceremony! I think this one would be quite big actually. Being the fiance of a big shot lawyer family’s son leads to you inheriting a lot of social connections. There are a lot of rich people at this wedding, with a unsurprising number of them actually being Shinjo clients.

It’s a nightmare, to be frank. You’re not really allowed to be yourself at this wedding, since your every move is being scrutinized. Ritsu will notice your unease and smooth talk his way out of any and every situation you find yourself in, so really all you have to do is smile and nod!

(Pssst, if you want a do over of the wedding where you only invite your friends and make it less formal, Ritsu can totally make it happen! He’s more than ready to see you in your wedding attire and marry you all over again. In fact, he feels he missed out on seeing the full extent of your happiness because of his family’s connections...)

Once everything has settled down, he’s a wonderful husband. Honestly, he’s worth it. Definitely the type to have cameras everywhere in his house though...just in case you get hurt or something goes wrong, he needs the evidence to defend and protect you!

He’s working for sure, so if you want to stay home you can! Whether you’re a working spouse or not will influence how the two of you divide household tasks, but make no mistake, it will be a fair division. He’s nothing if not fair after all :)

It’s not uncommon for you to wake up and see him already awake—or, on the weekends, with a book over his face. Kiss him good morning and make him some coffee, he’ll sleepily hang over your shoulders and try his best to wake up :(( He’s so CUTE.

Leo...He’s a tough one. You’d have to be with him a long time, and even though I don’t think he’d really think about proposing until it’s been a long LONGGG time. Doesn’t take it seriously either. I don’t...He’s just not a good person. Leo cannot be vulnerable. If you proposed first he’d probably make fun of you before accepting. He’s so MEAN.

I don’t understand why you’re doing this but yk what I support you. Someone’s got to marry him and if you think you have what it takes then go for it. He’s definitely posting your engagement online for clout and being super sweet and fake in front of the camera...sigh.

He’d invite SO MANY PEOPLE to the wedding and ENCOURAGE them to have their cameras out to record everything. At least he’s sweet to you during the ceremony, and he doesn’t smash your face into the cake or anything for clout. Maybe he does care a little bit WHAT WHO SAID THAT.

Sho is definitely there in some capacity. Maybe catering? He’d do a good job at it. Probably asks you if you’re sure about this right before the wedding because he sees what a dumpster fire it could be.

After all of that mess is over, Leo switches his social media to a more family vlog type of vibe. This is great for him because he rakes in a bunch of views from posting the two of you doing domestic things!

He’ll help out around the house for sure, but acts grumpy about it if you happen to catch him. He really doesn’t mind cleaning, but if he’s cleaning up after you he’ll be a bitch about it. He can be nice sometimes though! Lets you pitch ideas for his merch and listens when you tell him to put the phone down sometimes...

[janicho88]

Know When To Let Go Part 1

Pairing- Dean, x Female!Reader. 

Word count- 3,889

Warnings- A lot of ANGST, Dean is a bit of jerk, fighting,

Summary- You almost lost Dean to a heart attack, now after one phone call there is another threat from the past that could come between you two.

A/N-I know this isn't one of my ongoing series, but this has been in my drafts for years. The first 2 parts are a rewrite of the Route 66 episode. I'm trying to get back into writing, I promise. It's been so long since I've posted, I'm not even sure what to use for a taglist so I'm going off the last Forever tag list. If you would like to be removed let me know. Not Beta'd, all mistakes are mine

Sitting in the back of Baby, you think back on this last week, it was one of the worst of your life.  During the last hunt Dean had been electrocuted which led to him having a heart attack.  Doctors didn’t give him much time, you and Sam worked like crazy looking for some way to save him.  Finally, Sam found a faith healer, which turned into another case on its own.  Now, Dean was in the motel room saying goodbye to the chick he met on this job.  Sam was kind enough to bring her back to talk to Dean.  No, you weren’t jealous at all, but does he seriously have to meet a girl in every town you stop in?

Your parents had been hunters and would drop you off at Bobby’s, which is where you met Sam and Dean as kids. Dean was a year older, and had taken you under his wing.  When you were twelve, your parents never made it back from a hunt.  You lived with Bobby until you turned 18, then you started hunting with the Winchester instead of researching at Bobby’s. Sam was like a little brother to you, even if he shot up taller than all of you.  Dean was your best friend and as you grew up, he was the man who stole your heart.  You never saw him sharing those feelings so you kept them bottled up.  This left you standing by and watching, the constant hookups and flirting breaking your heart a little more each time.  Sam has known since you were kids there was something between you and Dean, and often pushes you to tell his brother.  You could never bring yourself to do it, and in turn, lose Dean altogether.  

You were there for Dean through everything, the rough hunts, Sam leaving for Stanford, fights with his dad, then John disappearing a few months ago which led to picking up Sam who then lost Jess.  You couldn’t imagine what losing Dean last week would have done to you.  When he was in the hospital, you came close to telling him how you felt when he was holding you next to him in the tiny hospital bed.  The two of you had gotten fairly close over the last case, but once again someone else had caught his eye. 

The three of you stop at a gas station when Dean gets a phone call and walks off.  Sam is standing next to the car looking over a map to plan your route to Pennsylvania, where your next case is. Dean starts heading back to the car putting his phone away.  

“I think I found a way we can bypass that construction just east of here.  We might even make Pennsylvania faster than we thought,” Sam calls out.

Dean looks out over the car before turning to the two of you, “Problem is, we’re not going to Pennsylvania”

You and Sam look at each other before looking at Dean.  “Where are we going then?” You ask.

“I got a call from an, uh, old friend.  Her father was killed last night, thinks it might be our kind of thing.”

“What? Who’s the friend?” Sam wanted to know.

“Listen, trust me on this, she never woulda called, never, if she didn’t need us.”

There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, “who is the friend Dean?” He just ignores you and hops in the car.

As you were driving Sam again tries to get Dean to tell him who the old friend is.  You are headed to Mississippi, which gives you a pretty good idea of who this friend is and you are livid. 

Dean finally says the name you are dreading, Cassie.  You had been traveling with Dean when he met her in Ohio, and they had gone out for a few weeks.  You didn’t like her then and you really didn’t like her the night Dean came back to the hotel drunk and heartbroken because she ended things.  She was a stuck up snob, she absolutely crushed Dean. 

“She actually had the nerve to call you and ask for help?” you exclaim. Unfeaking believable, and apparently Dean is still pretending he can’t hear you.

“You never mentioned her before,” Sam is telling Dean.

“Really?” When Sam just looks at him Dean continues, “ Yeah, we went out.”

“Like more than one night?  You actually dated somebody?”

“What are you not getting here?  Dad, Y/N, and I were working a job in Ohio, she was in college.  

We went out for a couple of weeks.”

“What happened between you guys?”

“Drop it Sam,”  you really didn’t want to dig up this part of the past.

“Was there more going on?” The dense man kept pushing.

“Yeah, they went out. She was a bitch, they broke up, it broke his heart, and I had to fix her mess.”

“Knock it off, Y/N.  That was years ago, and in the past.”  Now he acknowledges you, just to  defend her.  He couldn’t still have feelings for her could he?

“Okay.  So I’m sorry about her dad, but why would she call you if he was in a car accident?  Not really our kinda thing?” It took Sam a minute, “wait, does she know what we do?”  Dean didn’t answer staring ahead. “Dude, you didn’t?”

“He actually told the bitch what we really do, Sam.”

“Watch it Y/N.” Dean gives you a glare through the rearview mirror, and you give one right back.   

Sam looks at you curiously. You aren’t usually one for hate unless they deserve it. 

“Wait. You told her. You told her our secret! Our big family number one rule, we do what we do and we shut up about it.  I never said a word about it to Jess for over a year and a half, instead I lied to her. But you tell some girl you only knew a few weeks, everything.”  Dean still didn’t answer, just looking straight ahead.  “Dean!” 

“Yeah, looks like.”  He just pushed down on the accelerator ignoring Sam’s bitchface.

“Witch, didn’t deserve to know anything,”  you muttered under your breath.  Judging by the glare Dean sends back he still heard you.

There isn’t much talking between any of you after that. You arrive in town and Dean parks near the newspaper building and quickly exits the car.  Guess she told him where she works.  

Walking inside you see three people arguing and unfortunately recognize one of them as Cassie. One of the men leaves and the other walks away when Cassie turns to face the three of you, giving Dean a grin and calling out his name. Dean gives her a small grin.  Why is she so happy? She's the one who dumped him.  Oh she just made you fuming mad. 

“Hey Cassie.” She doesn’t say anything and they just stare at each other before Dean continues.  “This is my brother Sam, and you remember Y/N.”  

You would be pretty shocked if she didn’t remember you.  After calming Dean down and he finally passed out that night, you went to her apartment and bitched her out. Which is probably why she smiled at Sam and ignored you.

“I’m sorry bout your dad,” Dean started.

“Yeah, Me too,” she answers.

 Well, she does talk.  This staring is driving you nuts.  “You called Cassie, apparently you think you need our help.”

“I didn’t know you would still be around.” She quickly glances at you before going back to Dean, “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

“Well, I don’t desert the people I care about.”

Dean glares at you as everyone leaves the building and walks back to the Impala to follow her to her mother’s house.  When she gets in her car Dean grabs your arm stopping you.  “That’s enough out of you! You don’t have to be such a bitch, you know.”

He climbs behind the wheel of Baby, and you roll your eyes before sliding in yourself. 

Cassie brings out tea when you arrive, she settles down close to Dean. She tells you all how her mother has been in bad shape, so she was staying at the house with her.  She has been very nervous lately and worried about her husband.  When Dean asks why, Cassie mentions her dad had been scared and seeing things, like an awful-looking black truck following him.  Sam interrupts to ask who the driver was, but apparently her dad never mentioned one.  The truck was always appearing and disappearing.  Her father’s car had been dented in the accident, and it looks like something big. 

You’ve been watching Dean, and have to hide a laugh when he is giving his tea a weird look before quickly putting it aside on the table. You turn your attention back to what Cassie is saying.  The sooner you solve this, the sooner you can leave this town. 

“Dad sold cars, and was always driving a new one. There wasn’t a scratch on it before the accident.  It was raining hard that night, and mud was everywhere.  There was one distinct set of muddy tracks which led from dad’s car to the edge where he went over.”  She paused trying to gain control of her emotions, “only his tracks.”

“The first accident, he was a friend of your father’s?” Dean asks her.

“Yes, Clayton Soames, they were best friends, and owned the dealership together.  Same thing, a dent, no tracks, and the cops said he lost control too.”

Dean wants to know if she has any thoughts on why the two men would have been targets, but she doesn’t. Then Sam asks her if she thought it was the vanishing truck her dad saw.

“When you say it out loud like that, listen, I’m a bit skeptical about this… ghost stuff… or whatever it is you guys do.”

“Skeptical?  If I remember right you said I was nuts.”

“If you don’t believe it, why did you bother calling Cassie?”  You cut in after Dean.  Getting another glare from the man. 

“That was back then, I just can’t explain what happened so I called you.” Her and Dean are back to staring at each other, I just might be sick you think. 

“Excuse us a second,”  Dean gets up and grabs your arm, pulling you out of your seat across from him and to the corner of the room.  “If you aren’t actually going to be any help you can leave, and go wait in the car.”

Before you can reply, Cassie’s mom walks in and she gets up to talk to her.  Dean walks away leaving you standing alone.  She introduces Dean as a friend from college and Sam as his sibling, you get nothing.  Sam sees you hurry outside trying to hide the tears in your eyes, he knows Dean’s behavior has to be getting to you.  Excusing himself he follows you outside.

“Sam, you are always telling me I need to be honest with Dean about my feelings.  This is why I can’t, he’ll choose some chick who hurt him over me, the person who has been there for him for over 15 years.”  Dean comes out and you turn away from him quickly.

“I don’t understand what your problem is, but that was unnecessary,” he snaps at you. 

The three of you head back to the motel shortly.  It is a quiet ride back, you and Dean aren’t speaking to one another, and Sam doesn’t want to get either of you going. Usually, you share a bed with Dean, but that isn’t going to happen tonight.  At least the room has a couch, as bad as it looks it is still better than the floor.

Early the next morning Dean’s phone rang waking you up from the little sleep you had gotten.  It’s Cassie, apparently someone else died during the night, same way as the others.  Dean is hurrying both you and Sam to get ready and out the door. When you arrive at the scene Cassie is talking to one of the men from yesterday.  Dean is quick to walk over, you and Sam following behind. 

“Did the cops check for additional denting on Jimmy’s car, see if it was pushed?”

The man looked at Dean then back to Cassie, “Who is this?”

“Dean and Sam Winchester, and… his friend Y/N, they’re family friends.  This is Mayor Harold Todd.”

“There is one set of tracks, just one. Nothing points to foul play here.”

“Mayor, the police, officials, everyone is taking their cues from you, if you are indifferent about this then..”

“Indifferent!” He interrupts her

“Mayor, would you close the road if the victims were white?”

“Are you suggesting I’m racist Cassie, I’m the last person you should talk to like that.”

When Cassie tries to find out why, he just tells her to ask her mother and walks away. 

From there Dean drives you all back to the motel room to change into fed clothes.  While in the bathroom getting ready you can hear the boys talking, well Sam at least trying to get information from Dean about Cassie

. 

“I’ll say this for her, she’s fearless,” Sam starts, Dean just humming.  “I bet she kicked your ass a few times.  It’s interesting you guys never look at each other at the same time.  You look when she isn’t and she checks you out when you aren’t.  It’s an interesting observation you know, in an observationally interesting way.”

Just shut-up about her Sam, you think to yourself. “You think we might have more pressing issues here?” Dean finally responds.

“Hey, if I’m hitting a nerve.”

“Y/N, hurry up we’re leaving, let’s go,” Dean yells for you.

You leave for the docks to talk to a few guys who are friends of the victims, Cassie has mentioned they would be there having lunch.

“Excuse me.  Are you Ron Stubbins?”  You asked, reaching the two men first. When he nods, Dean takes over talking.

“You were friends with Jimmy Anderson?”

“Who wants to know?” Ron counters.

“We’re with Mr. Anderson’s insurance company, got to dot the I’s and cross some T’s.”

“We were just wondering if the deceased had mentioned any unusual experiences recently?” Sam cut in.

The men are looking at the three of you funny so you step in, “Well visions, hallucinations.  It’s part of a medical examination kind of thing.  This is all standard.”

“It takes three of you to come down?  What company did you say you were with?”

“I’m new, these guys are training me.”

“All National Mutual,” Dean cut in.  “Can you tell me, did he ever mention seeing a truck? A big black truck?”

“What the hell are you all talking about?  You even speaking English?” Ron asks.

“Son this truck, is it a big scary monster looking thing?”  The man with Ron cut in.

“Yeah, actually, I think so.”  Dean answers him.  The man just nods.  “What about it?”

“I’ve heard of a truck like that,” he finally answers.. 

That gets Sam’s attention, “You have, Where?”

“Not a where, but a when, son. Back in the ‘60’s there was a string of deaths.  Black men.  Story goes they disappeared in a big, nasty, black truck.”

“Did they ever catch the guy?” Dean wants to know.

“No, never found him.  Hell, not sure if they even really looked.  See there was a time, this town wasn’t too friendly to all its citizens.” 

“Thank you for your time,” you tell the men as the three of you turn to walk back to the Impala.  

The guys start talking while you follow behind. 

“This truck,” Dean starts.

“Keeps coming up doesn't it?” Sam fills in.

“You know, I was thinking.  You heard of the flying dutchman?” Dean asks his brother.

“That ghost ship?  It was infused with the captain’s evil spirit, and basically part of him.”

“What if this is like the same thing here? You know, a phantom truck, an extension of some bastard’s ghost, that is re-enacting past crimes?”

“Could be, the victims have all been black men.”

“It’s more than that, everything seems to be connected to Cassie and her family.”

“It’s all, all about Cassie,” you mutter under your breath, but apparently not low enough again.

“What is your deal?” Dean turns to you, “you have been a nag ever since I told you we were coming here!  All these stupid little comments.  What the hell is your problem?”

“You really have to ask me what my problem is?  You are so blinded by what you once felt for her.  I was there with you Dean, when things ended, I know how much she hurt you.  I absolutely hate her, and so did you before yesterday.”

“She hurt me, me, not you.  I never asked for you to help me, it’s not up to you how I handle this.  My life doesn’t concern you, stay out of it!  Grow up Y/N, I’m sick and tired of your attitude.”

“Maybe it’s just time I did get out of it.  If I’m gone then I can’t interfere in your life anymore.”

“Maybe that would be a great idea.  I’m over the way you’ve been lately.”

“Fine, after this case, I’m out of your hair.”

“Best thing you’ve said all case.”

“Alright guys, let’s just calm down,” Sam tries to intervene before it blows up, turning to Dean,  “you go work that angle with Cassie and her family, talk to her”

“Yeah, I will.”  Dean throws a glare your way when he answers.

“You might also wanna mention that other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“The unfinished business between you two. Dean, what is going on between you?”

You can’t listen so you walk away to calm yourself down.

“Maybe, we were a bit more involved than I said before.” Sam just stares at him.  “Okay so a lot more. I told her our secret, what’s out there and what we do.  I shouldn’t have.”

“Come on man, everyone needs to open up to someone at some point.”

“No, I don’t.  It was stupid of me to get that close. Just look how it ended.”

“Is that what’s wrong with Y/N?  How bad this thing ended with you and Cassie?”

“I don’t know what the hell her problem is, but she needs to get over it fast.”

“Did you love her?”

“Y/N? She’s my best friend, dude I can’t.”

“I meant Cassie, but good to know your mind goes there first.”

“No, didn’t. I’m leaving.”

“You did love her, and you dumped her.”  Sam watches Dean for a minute, “Wait, she dumped you?”

Dean walked over to the Impala’s door, “Just get in the car, get in the car.”

“What about Y/N?”  Sam asks, getting in and looking around for you.

“She can walk back, maybe it will cool her down.”

You walked around the corner trying to calm yourself down and keep the tears at bay.   When you are turning to go back you see the Impala speed by.  They seriously left you here?  Dean really did want you gone. Looking down, you are glad you didn’t grab the heeled shoes, at least this pair wasn't awful for walking. 

You turn back around and start the thirty minute walk to the motel.  This time you can’t stop the tears from falling.  You have loved Dean for years, and been his best friend even longer.  You want to be there for Dean. You were best friends, wasn’t that how it was supposed to be?  If you  are honest with yourself, you would know it was more than that, he was it for you.  It was clear lately, you're not the one for him.  Apparently you mean nothing to him.  Years ago, when he was hurt by Cassie, he changed and didn’t let anyone, even you get as close as he used to.  Maybe you should get your own room tonight, and start adjusting to being on your own.  This case couldn’t wrap up fast enough for you to get out of this town. 

You arrive back at the motel and the Impala is nowhere to be seen.  Either they aren’t back yet, or Dean dropped Sam off and went to her.  Heading to the room you plan to grab your things and get another room.  Opening the door you think you are alone, until Sam walks out of the bathroom. 

“Y/N, I’m glad you’re back, I’m sorry Dean left without you.”

“Don’t worry about it Sam, he obviously isn’t.

”

“What is going on with you two?”

“I think we have just had enough of each other.”

“It’s more than that.”

You let out a sigh before turning to sit on the bed.  “Dean doesn’t think straight around Cassie, he never has.  I don’t want to see him hurt again, because I know she will.  He changed the minute he got her call.”

“When are you going to tell my brother you are in love with him?”

“I’m not Sam, I told you last night, he doesn’t share those feelings.  Hell, he wants me gone, out of his life, and maybe that isn’t a bad idea.”

“What are you saying?”

“Our friendship is barely hanging on by a thread, I’m not going to cut that final one by telling him how I feel.  He wouldn’t wait for this case to even be over before he made me leave.  It’s clear I’ve overstayed my welcome with you two.”  

“No, you haven’t.  I think we all just need a break after this.  You and Dean aren’t thinking straight right now.”

“I’m going to grab another room. I don’t think we need the three of us in one tonight.”

“You don’t need to do that.” 

“It would be better if...”

“No,” Sam cuts you off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, but Dean is with Cassie, we need to figure out how this relates back to her family. I don’t know when he’ll even get back tonight, so don’t worry about another room. Everything will be back to normal in a day or two.”

“Sam, I’m leaving when this case is over.  I need to be on my own for a bit.  You will always be my not so little, little brother, but I can’t stay around him anymore.

Y/N, come on.  It’s just a fight, you guys will be fine in a few days.

“I’m going to hit the shower.”  You don’t want him to try and talk you out of this decision.  

Walking into the bathroom you quickly turn on the water so Sam won’t hear you cry.  After 18 years of friendship this is where you finally part ways from the man who has been there for you since he was 8 years old. Dean doesn’t want you around and you can’t keep watching him sleep with all those other women.  The knife in your chest twists a little more every time.  Getting out of the shower you get ready for bed, sleeping on the couch again because you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep in the bed that smells like Dean, even if it would be the last time.  You know Sam is asleep and you don’t fight the tears that surface once again.

Part 2-coming soon

Thank you for reading!

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[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 

[alinaastarkov]

i'm not a shipper, but i think it's blatantly obvious that grmm has something big n impactful for jonrya. we're talking about two main characters, created to complement each other from the beginning. if she were a little older, i think ppl would be more willing to at least try to analyze the text. and i suspect that, deep down... fans noticed, but prefer to pretend they didn't. like at some point, you have to ask yourself why grrm felt it necessary to revisit old ideas n make jon live a semi-triangle through his perspective that also maximizes so many emotions. jon is a v passionate young boy when it comes to arya. while the other stark children think fondly of each other, they have all this intense stuff involving soul n heart. ultimately he chose arya. his heart is his sister and his sister is his heart. and the heart is all that matters. how ridiculously obvious is that? lol we already know that he and arya are outsiders, that they are each other's favorite person. it's redundant to keep hammering the reader like that. plus using the love vs duty card at this point in the story implies that if the theme comes back, it won't have the same narrative impact bc that alternative has already been used, just like if he died again for someone else it wouldn't have the same impact either. grrm isn't exactly a subtle writer, when he feels inspired, he just writes. as he wrote: each other's memories prevent them from giving themselves completely to organizations that demand detachment from the past. jon thinks that arya's home is with him. he was tormented over her. why do their stories need to be so intertwined in affc and adwd? what implications could his dying thought associated her will bring after the resurrection? how will their already close relationship be reconfigured? could they save each other after they meet again and connect with their true selves? these are questions that many fans don't seem ready to discuss. although, if that's part of grrm's plan. it will happen eventually. he might just take the platonic route with undertones. easy as hell. in a series full of incest, a brother ends up being accused of stealing a bride and apparently nothing rings in the heads of fans who are always so dedicated to looking for the smallest details to validate dumb ass theories looool. it's bc they simply don't want to see. the crazy parallels with rhaegar (black heart/stark maiden) are also not subtle either. as i said, i don't even consider myself a shipper, i prefer jon/val and i like arya/gendry. however, these pairings obviously don't carry the same emotional weight as jonarya and weren't even set up as endgame initially, ppl liking it or not. and grrm has already confirmed that he's going for the endings he's had in mind since 1991, so these two will inevitably be more important in their respective endings than secondary characters created later. and frankly, everyone knows that they choose each other before any possible love interests. be fucking realist. it's grmm's story. there's definitely something planned for them and has put a lot of attention on their relationship for a reason. jonrya foreshadowing is so thick that i cannot see how ppl can ignore them

you are absolutely right, anon. george at no point has scrapped his ideas for these two, and in fact made it more prevalent. they've been bonded since childhood, both outsiders, honourable, listened the most to ned's lessons, stubborn, kind, have a shared journey of losing identity (something all the key 5 go through actually which can be added to the list of reasons they are still the key 5), george even made them unique in looking alike. i could go on. he wrote them both with the other in mind.

forgive me if i'm getting the numbers wrong but i think jon thinks of arya something like 47 times? and that's in 42 chapters. on average he thinks about her at least once a chapter. crazy work. arya in turn thinks about jon around 42 times across her 34 chapters. frankly, arguments that george isn't going that way, isn't highlighting their bond especially or for a particular reason, are being purposefully obtuse. and they absolutely have noticed, lol. this is why every jonsa theory rests on jonrya material, quotes about arya, arya's storyline and themes or jon's love for arya. jon and arya's entire relationship is apparently just a red herring. they simultaneously insist there's nothing romantic and that we're gross, but also take "what do you know of my heart, priestess?" and pretend it's about sansa because deep down they know it's the most romantic thing ever. it's why they insist sansa will be the girl in grey or that sansa replaced arya in the original outline's love triangle despite no evidence of this. suddenly we're supposed to believe jon-arya-tyrion became jon-sansa-tyrion despite jon never thinking of sansa, and jon spending adwd fighting imaginary duels with ramsay for arya's honour. the outline also makes clear arya's in love with jon not tyrion, so who's to say it wasn't always meant to be a love triangle from jon's perspective only, lol?

i would absolutely agree that it's becoming redunant with how often he hammers it home if the fandom wasn't like this. as it is, most of the fandom still isn't getting in. he needs to be more insane about them actually. and the constant assertion that the girl in grey, or jon's betrayal for love will happen again shows such a misreading of the text. they've recognised the devotion jon has for arya, but because they don't like her that can only be platonic, and that devotion will be transferred onto whoever they like best and this time it will be romantic, duh. as if he's gonna repeat storylines exactly just with a different character this time.

and yeah, this doesn't have to lead to anything more than a deep, platonic bond and endgame where they at least won't be apart from each other. but to insist jon and arya are platonic and "not that deep", "he loves his whole family," etc. and then literally replace arya in the story with x character is unbelievably stupid and annoying.

[callipraxia]

What do you think of Dipper and Ford’s relationship? I definitely see it as a positive thing, and it benefits them both in many ways. They find kindred spirits after years of feeling like loners, they enjoy their time together, and Dipper helps humanise Ford and helps brings him into the family, while Ford boosts Dipper’s confidence and treats him with respect.

But there are some possible issues there. That Dipper’s hero worship might blind him to Ford’s flaws, and that Ford might be so focused on seeing Dipper’s potential that he forgets he’s still a child and might be unintentionally pushing him before he’s ready.

That could cause problems in the future, especially for Dipper. He’s got enough stressors without struggling to live up to his hero’s expectations.

I’m never one to shy away from arguing with Mr. Hirsch’s interpretations of his own characters, but I do sort of agree with one thing he said about Dipper and Ford: that if Dipper had stayed behind as Ford’s apprentice, it would have been McGucket all over again, sooner or later, or at least something similar. An interesting thing about Ford is how he’s perhaps not traditionally charismatic, but once the occasional person is drawn in, their lives can very quickly start to revolve around him, and how things are going in his world becomes how things are going in their world. If things had played out as originally planned, in a circumstance where the Rift was contained but not permanently sealed and where Bill was still alive, this could not have ended well, no matter how well-intentioned anyone was in the beginning. Killing Bill was not, in and of itself, enough to resolve his many, many psychological problems, but it was probably the clearest route he had to an opportunity to do so. While Bill lived – that was some ‘neither can live while the other survives’ kind of stuff, to steal a line from elsewhere. There wasn’t really a lot of room in his life for other relationships until that one was resolved. It would have been worse with Dipper than other people, though, because Dipper also had a history with Bill. Add in the hero-worship from Dipper, and, well, to borrow from Bill himself on the TBOB website:

“The truth was, [Ford] was half a genius. The other half seemed to be frozen at the age of 18, still a child, totally dependent on outside praise”

One of the reasons Stan and Ford can both get on so well with children is due to the ways in which their emotional and psychological developments seem to have arrested at some point in adolescence. And Dipper would, for at least a good while, have been a pretty constant source of that praise, and…well, we saw what happened the last time Ford had someone who fulfilled his need for outside praise. In a case where I did argue with Mr. Hirsch:

“He’s aloof, and distant, and he’s too perfect. And it’s like, ‘oh! I think he’s also aloof and distant from himself.’ I think he is, uh, deeply, deeply hiding from his real feelings about things, because at some point early on, he decided that he could run from hurt by achievement and by creation, and has dug that hole so deep that he has no relationships” (Hirsch, “Alex Hirsch Interview Transcript”).

One thing that almost immediately becomes apparent upon even a casual examination of the texts, though, is that Ford does at least very much want to have relationships...Whenever he has the chance, this supposedly aloof, relationship-less character can’t seem to stop himself from trying to form relationships…[redacted is a massive list of examples]. We are told by the writers that Ford is a loner, but throughout his life, the parts of his actual behavior that we are shown seem to betray a fairly consistent desire for collaboration, and one which is strong enough to override his belief in the solitude of great men (Hirsch and Renzetti) far more often than not.

Someone who understands at least a glimmer of what he’s been through, who reminds him of everything he likes about himself and not that much of the things he doesn’t like about himself, who wants to impress him more than anything in the world, and who, in that circumstance, would be basically the only person who he interacted with for long stretches of time? Recipe for disaster, one way or another. Eventually ceasing to see Dipper as a child would only be one of the issues.

Not, of course, that I disagree with your statement about the relationship ultimately being good for both of them. Dipper needed the ego reinforcement of being treated with more respect, which both Ford and the town itself give him, which has increased his confidence immensely by the end of the summer; Ford needed a sort of ‘starter relationship’ to ease him back into the world of, well, relating to anyone after thirty years as an outlaw and fugitive. I even think they could work well together at some point in the future, once they’ve both sorted themselves out a little, and when Dipper has the perspective and maturity to deal with Ford as a fellow human being instead of as this Ideal that Dipper can never really live up to or stop trying to live up to. Otherwise…well, Dipper understood about getting tricked by Bill, but eventually, Ford would disappoint Dipper in some way, and even at the very end of the show, I don’t think Dipper’s quite mentally ready to deal with that. We see a lot of growth in Dipper in season two – he takes to the role of town hero very well, and by the end of the summer is even becoming something of an orator/natural leader-figure; I’ve never seen anyone discuss it, but if Weird Science doesn’t work out, I could see Dipper having a future in politics or activism of some kind – but he is, after all, still a young kid, and one who is still to an extent growing into a better version of himself. At the very least, I think he needs to confront Piedmont, where it's implied he's been pretty unhappy his whole life, as the new, more assertive Dipper and prove to himself that he can still be that person without the outside reinforcement of being surrounded by a public that by that point pretty much universally thinks well of him.

[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.

[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

[hornydemonrp]

RRRAAAHHH

If I see ONE MORE FUCKING post in the tags like

“I’m looking for a partner I can obsess over ships with, someone I can build worlds with, and send inspo, and develop characters”

I’m gonna fucking LOSE IT

THAT’S NOT HOW IT WORKS

And no, these aren’t wistful, aspirational posts like, [Sighs] I wish I had someone to do these things with 🥺…

these are classified ads. These are job postings.

Imagine being like, “hey I’m looking for a soulmate, someone I can be passionate with but also enjoy quiet moments; someone who wants to plan a dream home with me; someone who wants to have a lot of kids and name them with me, and talk about the schools they’ll go to”

Being up front about what you want is fine, wanting those things is fine, BUT IT’S NOT A FUCKING CHECKLIST

It’s not a job application.

It’s like posting a very detailed plot in your wishlist, but for a PERSON

That’s not how meeting people works, that’s not how relationships work, that’s not how PEOPLE WORK

I understand all the reasons why, but that doesn’t make it okay to come out with a list of high stakes demands that immediately put pressure on any prospective person to BE ALL THAT for you.

You’re skipping the hard work. You want to avoid the work, just to “get to the good stuff”

For your own sake, and the sake of whoever you find,

DON’T DO THAT

It is highly unlikely you’ll get what you want, and more than likely you’ll end up disappointing each other

“But life is risk”

SHUT UP

Getting what you want (really, the shape of what you want, the idea of what you want) isn’t enough. For it to LAST, it has to be good and real and organic and sustainable and flexible. It has to be born out of communication and trust and patience and empathy and understanding and the daily work of wanting the same thing together

It’s as true of RP relationships as it is of romantic ones! The goals may be different, the stakes may be lower, but the process is the same.

“It’s not that serious”

SHUT UP

YES IT IS

Is it “end of the world” serious? No. But it’s a thing you want to do. It’s a hobby. You want to have fun. You want it to be good. So take it seriously. “Seriously” isn’t a binary between “not caring at all” or “caring the most”; it’s just about paying attention and caring about what you put in and get out. You are choosing to spend your free time doing this—why would you accept anything less than what’s best for you? Anything less than what would let you get the most out of it?

Stop cheating yourself out of a good experience by chasing instant gratification. If this has worked for you in the past, there’s no guarantee it’ll happen again—less than that, in fact. Yes, to be fair, it CAN work, but it’s like winning the lottery. “High risk, high reward” is silly and promises diminishing returns.

This is easier said than done because I still have to remind myself.

Every single time you go for the easy route, the fast route, it’s fun for a fraction of the time and the rest of it is empty and disappointing. If that means you roleplay less often, with fewer partners, that sucks (I know this all too well), but it makes for a better experience.

The partners you build worlds with, develop characters with, obsess with, those start with just a simple, “hey you wanna try this one little idea?” And one day you look up and you’ve done all that, many times over.

Trying to START from that place, INSISTING you start there is the best way to make sure you don’t get what you want.

Slow down. Take your time. Remember that people are people. Remember that this is a creative hobby centered around PLAYING, EXPLORATION, just seeing what the fuck would happen! This isn’t collecting; this isn’t checking boxes. You can’t pull a complete relationship out of a box. You have to built it from scratch. If you want it, you have to show up, be present, and engage.

Stop treating it like something you can buy off Amazon.

FUCK

[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.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Vent, tw misunderstandings about DID

Hey,

I'm the anon who recently started writing therapists specialized in DID. It didn't really go well, the best answer was "Maybe in 2027"... So I tried to open up to my current therapist a bit, although I knew she doesn't know much about dissociation. I was just hoping she might refer me to some specialist I haven't found online. I just told her to "Maybe read a bit into dissociation" and she did a bit. But the resources she found were so poorly and outdated... And she said some things that were just so wrong but I couldn't tell her that, because I don't want her to know how much I already know. For example she said "Yeah, you don't seem to have DID, you never went in here and introduced yourself to me with a new name". And I just want to cry because I feel like my one chance to maybe getting her to find out about DID without opening up too much failed. How akward would it be to go to her again "Maybe look again into dissociative disorders but this time find good resources!".

We also went through those checklists and the section about DID did have exactly 3 questions:

"Are you at war with yourself about your identity?" (How vage can one phrase a question)

"Do you sometimes ask people to call you a different name?"

"Do people sometimes say you act strange?"

Like, two of those a person with DID would probably not know because of amnesia.

And every question was so vage that I could have answered with yes or no and could've a good explanation for both. So I went the safe route because even having those papers on my lap felt so dangerous, and said no to all of those.

It is so shitty. So I offered to write a symptoms-diary until the next appointment, so I can maybe add more details that I wasn't brave enough to tell her and her resources didn't ask. But now it is again on me. Why do I have to open up more and more? Maybe I should just give her an essay, why I find myself represented in one diagnosis and the symptoms. Ha.

And all of that while her horrible resources had that tip "Be specific with your questions because your patient might be too ashamed to open up" like the phrase was laughing into my face.

Idk, I just needed to vent. It seems so impossible. Every time I open up and feel like "This time it'll work out" something super unexpected happens and ruins my plans.

Hello, Anon.

This is unfortunately the case for many therapists when it comes to knowing enough about dissociative disorders to be of actual help and support with treatment plans. I’ll list a resource for you to utilize, but know if your therapist isn’t taking you seriously, then you should keep trying to find someone else. At the very least somebody who shows active willingness to learn and do their own research to better support you.

-Amun

[viperwhispered]

Okay but answering the ask about Emi going back to talk to her past self and thinking about the circumstances in which she'd rather not have ended up in twst in the first place and oof that got my brain down the angst route 😭

Just, honestly... It'd break her so bad if a few years down the line, she's more settled in, maybe she's just graduated NRC, she and Jamil have been together for a few years, she (and they) are starting to have some plans for the future and all... and then someone comes in and tells her they've got a way to send her back.

Like.

How's she supposed to choose here? She still doesn't really belong here, but she's getting there, but she'd love to comfort her family and everyone else she left behind, but also the years have already passed (as far as she knows, who knows how that stuff works and if both worlds move at similar paces), and how would she explain everything, and how could she possibly just abandon Jamil, but she could return to all those familiar things and surroundings and...

Just, oof.

Even worse if for some reason it was like "you gotta decide now".

Because like she already disappeared without a trace once, she couldn't possibly do that again and have even more people, Jamil especially, hurting that way.

But also like... Yeah the longer she stays in twst, the more she starts feeling like she can't just wait to go back, she might have to start building a life here. Hence the getting into a relationship with Jamil in the first place and all that.

But there's definitely a period of time there (even after she's probably had to convince Jamil that it's worth giving a relationship a go anyway, even with the uncertainties they have) where she'd feel so bad for leaving Jamil behind, but would do it anyway.

And boy if that doesn't just break my heart.

Just, damned if you do, damned if you don't. How much could she mend what was already broken? How much would she break anew, if this time she chose to make that transition?

Not sure how much coherence this has but gonna tag the Emi peeps anyways

@scint1llat3 @diodellet @moonyasnow @bibi-cha

If you'd like to be added to the tag list (or be removed from it), just let me know!

[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?”

[lisutarid-a]

[Gakuen K] Fushimi Saruhiko Route Translation

Late Night Invitation

LIST OF CHAPTERS

[Translation under the cut]

Saya: (In just an hour, this year will be over)

Saya: (So many things happened, but the biggest thing was meeting Fushimi-kun)

Saya: (I wonder what I would have said to myself when I was a temporary member about my current situation)

Saya: (It was scary at first…It's strange to fall in love with someone)

Saya: (I wonder what Fushimi-kun is doing now. I wonder if he's watching a New Year's Eve special program)

Saya: (I have a call…from Fushimi-kun)

Saya: Hello.

Fushimi: [What are you doing now?]

Saya: I'm sitting in my room looking back on the year and wondering what Fushimi-kun is doing.

Fushimi: [Hm, in short, you're free]

Saya: And what are you doing?

Fushimi: [I'm walking outside]

Saya: At this hour? Where are you going?

Fushimi: [To anywhere]

Fushimi: […Do you plan to go to Hatsumode?]

Choice: Uh-huh, I didn't think about it

Saya: Uh-huh, didn't think about it at all.

Fushimi: [You should at least go to Hatsumode, wouldn't it be better to ask for something?]

Saya: Um…I've never been to the shrine in this place, but if you say so.

Fushimi: [Do you know where it is?]

Saya: Uh-huh, I don't know.

Fushimi: [If so, I'll go with you]

Saya: Is it okay?

Fushimi: [It's better than if you get lost in some strange place and I have to pick you up]

Saya: Thank you. You're a big help.

Saya: (…Hm? This is…)

Saya: (Could it be that I was invited to Hatsumode…?)

Choice: I'd like to go ❤︎

Saya: Uhm, I'd like to go. I haven't been to the shrine in this place yet.

Fushimi: [Have you already decided who you're gonna go with?]

Saya: I was planning to go with Fushimi-kun…

Fushimi: [Don't make other people's plans without their permission]

Saya: Do you have plans already?

Fushimi: [I don't]

Saya: If so, let's go together.

Fushimi: [Yeah]

Saya: Great. Thank you.

Saya: So what were you calling me about?

Fushimi: [About what we're talking now]

Saya: Eh… Are you saying that you called me from the beginning to invite me to Hatsumode?

Fushimi: [Tsk…]

Saya: (Fushimi-kun invited me. I'm so happy…]

Saya: I'm looking forward to Hatsumode.

Fushimi: [I'm got to the place, so I gotta hang up]

Saya: Uhm. Since we will see each other next year, I wish you a Happy New Year.

Fushimi: [It's too early to say that]

Saya: Eh?

Saya: (He hang up. What did he mean by 'It's too early?')

Saya: (Did something hit the window? Is it windy outside?)

Saya: Again. I wonder if it's a prank…

Saya: Again…It's a bit scary, but let's open it.

Fushimi: What took you so long.

Saya: Ah…! Fushimi-kun, why are you here…?

Fushimi: You're going to Hatsumode, right?

Saya: You were saying about going now!?

Fushimi: That's right. Hurry up and come here.

Saya: Even if you say to hurry up, it's already 11:00 p.m.

Saya: Because it's a dormitory, I don't have permission to go out at this hour.

Fushimi: Then, just jump down from there.

Saya: Ehh!

Fushimi: Just hurry up and do it.

Saya: But…

Saya: (Now when I have to jump down, it's really high…)

Fushimi: Hurry up before someone comes.

Saya: I-I'm scared.

Fushimi: You'll be fine at this distance.

Saya: (What should I do? I'm scared, but if I don't get down, I won't be able to go to Hatsumode with Fushimi-kun…)

Saya: …All right! I'm coming!

Fushimi: Ugh!

Saya: Ouch…

Fushimi: I'm the one who is hurt.

Saya: Waah, sorry!

Fushimi: Why jump down with all your might like that? If you say you're scared, get down more carefully.

Saya: I got carried away…You're not hurt, are you?

Fushimi: I'm not. You?

Saya: I'm okay. Because Fushimi-kun caught me.

Fushimi: I see. If so, let's go already.

Saya: Fufu.

Fushimi: Why are you laughing?

Saya: Because I can't believe I snuck out of the dorm this late, it's kind of fun.

Fushimi: You're more brave than I thought…

Fushimi: I mean, how long are you going to stay like that? Get off me.

Saya: Ah, sorry.

Saya: Seems like no one has seen us so far.

Fushimi: Once we get past the dorms, the rest is easy. There's no one in the school building.

Saya: But you never know who you might meet, so we can't let our guard down until we get out of the school gate.

Fushimi: Let's hurry up and get out of here.

[Prev chapter][Next chapter]

[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.