#I’m not being snobbish I love garbage

[swimyghost]

Possum Chemistry

A backstory about Martha and Steve nobody asked for yet here we are. Rubi and Marie belong to @self-insert-nonsense so fuck yeah.

---

Rubi grunted as she tossed the garbage bag into the bin. She rolled his shoulder a few times before making her way back to the painting awaiting her in her studio.

He can work with dead bodies but garbage? Noooo, that's too 'unhygienic'. 

She sighed. Rubi genuinely loved her husband despite all the crimes against humanity that took place in their shed on a daily basis and the aura of superiority he always liked to exude, but his lack of care for basic household chores was starting to get on her nerves.

She opened the backdoor to get back inside when he heard a pair of happy squeaks. Rubi turned her gaze behind her. In the distance was a pair of opossums happily walking side by side. One of them was considerably larger than the other and had a tired gaze while the other one had a tuft of hair in front of their eyes. The larger one suddenly ran ahead, leaving the tuff-haired possum by her lonesome. The possum disappeared into the bushes and reappeared with a fresh daisy in their mouth. A series of happy trills exploded from the other possum as they happily accepted their gift. The two briefly touched noses, causing a bashful stare between them, before they continued their walk into the forest, this time with the flower in tow. 

Oh my fucking God, that's the cutest thing I've ever seen. Rubi thought, her mind growing fuzzy at the idea of her husband Herbert doing something similar.

"It is, isn't it?"

Startled, Rubi leaped to the side, afraid someone had broken into her yard. Instead, she saw that a dirty blonde-haired teen was leaning over her fence, their arms crossed with their head resting between them. Several possum joeys scurried all over their worn red sweatshirt, eagerly looking at their surroundings. Rubi sighed before glaring at the teenager.

"It's not nice to scare people, Neighbor... Or read minds for that matter," Rubi said, hesitantly adding the last part of that sentence.

"I'm sorry and I can't read minds," Neighbor corrected, "I only knew what you were thinking because your face was like an open book."

Rubi blushed but Neighbor continued, "Though I have to agree with you, Martha and Steve are adorable. Yeah, they're adorable all year round but they get extra adorable on this day."

"What's today?" Rubi asked.

Carefully hopping the fence, Neighbor answered her question, "It's their anniversary. That's why I'm watching the joeys."

The aforementioned baby possums eagerly reached out to grab Rubi's black locks as she blinked in surprise. "It's their anniversary? Why didn't they tell me? I could've drawn something for them!"

If you would've told me three years ago I would be upset that I didn't know the anniversary of a pair of possums, I would've called you crazy. Rubi said internally, slowly realizing how weird the situation was. She was brought back to reality as one of the joeys yanked on her hair.

"They probably forgot and it's not my place to share their personal business so I didn't say anything," Neighbor explained.

Rubi nodded, glancing back at the forest. She wished she would have taken a picture of that moment so she could shove it in Herbert's face. Was it so wrong that she wanted her husband to be just as romantic as Steve?

"Wanna know how they got together?"

"There's a story behind that?" Rubi questioned.

"Yes, but it's long so I think you should sit down." Neighbor said. 

Rubi did just that, letting herself be overwhelmed with baby possums. Neighbor took their place beside her and let out a smile.

"It took place a couple of years ago..."

---

Martha knew she wasn't young anymore. That was not implying she was ancient, but her younger sisters from an even younger litter already had begun courting some jacks while she barely found any man tolerable. Her mother had told her that she was too picky but she couldn't help it; she wanted a real man, not a scoundrel. It also didn't help that human television had ruined her idea of love. She wanted a jack to sweep her off her paws and be there to tend to her every whim. Martha knew she was being too demanding, but seeing Mr. Darcy fall deeply in love with Elizabeth after spending so long trying to be the type of snobbish man both she and Elizabeth loathed filled her heart with joy and a desire to have that type of romance. 

Her mother had called her a cotton-headed fool, but Martha thought of herself as a hopeless romantic.

The jill had already made a home for herself in an old badger set, filling her home with human trinkets and flowers. Every day was the same routine: wake up either when the sun was high or when it had set and began to forage or hunt, bring the meal back home and get, go back out and forge some more, stop by the nearby creek and get a drink, see if any of the nearby humans are watching something interesting on the television, then go home. It was a simple routine, but it made her happy. The only part of her day that she dreaded was drinking from the creek.

The creek was often the gathering spot from hotheaded jacks. As most possums her age and younger were burdened with the task of single-handedly raising the joeys, she was often the lone female in a cloud of raging testosterone. She felt appalled by the sort of things they would discuss, such as having slept with multiple jills, attacking humans for the fun of it, and purposely starting fights with the possum's rivals, the raccoons. All that talk reminded her of her brother, who was single like her but it was his own decision. 

That all changed one day when she met a special jack. 

It was a warmer night and the sun was still barely peeking out from beyond the horizon, but Martha was rather thirsty. The heat was getting to all of the animals of the forest, including her. She decided to make a quick detour to the creek to simply drink and wash up before going to forage for grubs. Martha was careful not to be out in the open as it was dangerous for any marsupial to be seen by a predator such as a coyote or a fox. Once she reached the stream, the peaceful lull of the swift waters slapping against the rocks were shattered the high-pitched, crude laughter of nearby jacks. They situated themselves atop a nearby hill and were acting like hooligans, shoving each other and daring one another to leap into the waters below. They would occasionally tear into a vole or squirrel, letting bits of meat and blood drip from their jaws and onto the floor. Martha viewed them as savages. 

The jill quickly began her descent into the creek and let the water rest on the bottom of her stomach. The chill was relaxing and even though she had to tune out the immature calls from the males above, Martha was still enjoying the refreshing sensation. As she was trying to quickly finish up her bath, she saw him.

He was an older jack, probably only a moon or two older then she was. He was much larger than the other jacks, both in size and in weight, and held a sleepy gaze the entire time he padded towards the shore across from Martha. Although he held a tired demeanor, once he plunged his muzzle into the waters, Martha could see the kindness and intellect behind his brown eyes. His lovely gray and white fur was well groomed, not like the jacks that were sneering at both him and her above the pair and other males Martha had met. He seemed so gentle, carefully sitting himself down to get the best drink he could. Martha was instantly smitten.

She kept her eyes on him longer than she intended to as he lifted his head to meet her gaze. Embarrassed, the jill dove out of the water and raced away. She could faintly hear the taunts of the other males, but the look the larger male had given her set Martha's heart ablaze. She had done it, she finally met the one she was destined to be with. Her Mr. Darcy. Her Jack Dawson. Her Rick Blaine. 

But she knew she couldn't just rush these things. Human television had taught her she had to be slow, but affirmative. That's why she arrived at the same time the next day, eagerly to meet her potential suitor. She ignored the calls of the jacks who happened to appear as well and only waited for her beloved. However, despite the fact she waited almost an entire evening, he never showed up. Martha was puzzled. Perhaps he was busy doing something else? The forest was a large place after all so it wouldn't be surprising if he got caught up in other affairs. So, after having a quick bite to eat, Martha returned home hoping tomorrow would give her something different. But it was the same thing that day too. Same as the next day, and the day after that, and then the next. Five sunrises had passed and Martha still hadn't met her soulmate again. Her mother's words rang in her head: a cotton-headed fool. Perhaps she had invented the jack to fill the void in her heart. Martha was even more lonely than she started out with. On the sixth day, she decided to start her regular routine up again, although she was much more somber. When she finally reached the creek, she was surprised to see that the subject of her affections was laying across the creek nibbling on a circular human food item. It looked like bread but the jill wasn't too sure. Whatever he was eating didn't matter to her, the jack was here and she was going to make a good first impression. Well, a good second impression, Martha remembered had awkwardly fled the first time they met. She groomed herself to perfection behind a tree before stepping out. Martha tried her best to seem nonchalant yet interested at the same time, like a human jill in one of those human television programs where everyone wore fancy suits and dresses (Martha hoped to one day wear a dress as pretty as those jills wore). Martha made her way to the creek, one eye on the jack, and started to drink. Although she tried to appear uncaring, she couldn't help but grow flustered every time he laid eyes on her. It was like her body was set ablaze by the fires of passion.

This went on for several days. The jack's odd schedule never made any sense to Martha, but she loved the days when the two would sneak looks at each other from across the creek. While the forbidden love aspect was romantic at first, the invisible border between them was growing larger and larger every day. Martha was confused about the next course of action. All of the human stories told her that their relationship would form naturally but it just felt stagnant. Martha didn't wanna lose this jack. She barely knew him, yes, but that's why she wanted to get together with him, to know everything about the lovely man she had fallen in love with. That's why she had decided to turn to The Old Ways. In the Deep Forest was said to house a being older than time itself. It heard all and had the answers. All it asked for was one thing: a vegetable. 

Martha, desperate for answers, found herself a wild radish and began the trek into the deep part of the forest, deeper than most animals dared to venture. The sun began to rise and she knew that predators would rise as well. The forest grew thick with ancient trees and plants twice the size of her. Every noise set her heart racing again. The scent of a fox, coyote, and other strange creatures filled her nostrils once she padded over a log that was a natural bridge over a stream. Mud caked her body and she could feel herself heaving. A cotton-headed fool was the only type of animal who would do something like this, search for a being that might not even exist. Martha thought about turning around for the several hundredth time that whole journey but she couldn't. Not after all this time.

A crack of a twig shot her back to the present. Martha dropped the radish from her jaws and let out a long hiss, but it felt fake; the exhaustion was too strong. Martha was afraid because if she needed to run, she'd be dead.

Instead of a fox or coyote, a long-legged deer with the largest antlers Martha had ever seen stepped out. He looked young, but he had an aura of wisdom that radiated off him. He was bulky, but not overly muscular. His green eyes were teeming with hidden knowledge. He lowered him to Martha's level, offering her to climb on his back. Martha eagerly scrambled onto him, making sure to grab to radish before they took off. The deer didn't run, more liked glided across the forest floor. Leaves were kicked up in the air and floated around them like dancers. Martha was amazed by how bright everything suddenly became once they reached a circular pond surrounded by mossy trees and stones. The deer lowered itself, letting Martha slide off his back. Her body moved on autopilot. She walked towards to edge of the bottomless pool of water, dropped the radish in, and waited.

What is your question, marsupial? A voice erupted from the ground. 

Martha leaped back in terror. Was it a monster? After a few moments, the rumbling stopped and carefully crept back to the edge and asked her question.

Your love will blossom only if the boundaries are shattered and words are spoken. Gazes hold little to the power of speech. That is all.

The voice disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Martha was left with more questions than answers but the strange deer already has lowered back down, signaling it was time to go. Martha more hesitantly crept back on and the deer took off once more. The possum watched the unusual pond until it disappeared from sight. Martha noticed it had become dark and was surprised to see the moon and the stars. She wanted to ask the deer if time had really passed so fast but felt like she was already messing with something beyond her understanding.

The deer stopped at a certain point in the forest as if it were blocked by an invisible force. The jill thanked the deer, stepped off, and made her way home. It was midnight when she finally reached her den. Too exhausted to bother with appearances, Martha collapsed in her nest of moss and ferns. The only thing on the jill's mind was going to see the jack of her dreams. She would go to the creek once she did two things: make herself look presentable and find him a gift. Once she awoke to the sun high in the sky, only then did she notice a faint glow around her. Martha was worried, but not worried enough to miss her chance. She didn't care if she was a cotton-headed fool or blinded by love, Martha was going to make him her's and become his jill. After savaging around, she found a strange human food item by their silver cans of waste. A folded-over piece of flatbread with cheese, meats, and other cut vegetables. The scent made her mouth water, but she grabbed it and rushed over to the creek. She was ready to cross when someone strange was standing by her usual spot.

It was the jack, equally as well-groomed as she was and holding a gift, a branch covered it ripe wild berries. He too had the odd glow around him as well.

The two stared at each other. Martha's heart was pounding. Everything was perfect; the sounds of the creek, the sunlight cutting through the tree branches, the lack of anyone else, animal or human. It was perfect, all of it was. She just needed to step forward. However, the jack moved up first, setting the branch down and nosing it toward her. Martha nearly fainted on the spot. 

The two began to talk. Well, Martha spent most of the time talking. The jack, who she learned was named Steve (a wonderful name for such a handsome man), was a quiet soul but every time he spoke it was with purpose and he always added something to the conversation. Martha learned that his strange schedule was due to his strange sleep affliction in which he often found himself unable to sleep but when he could, would sleep for a long time. Steve had asked if she disliked him now. Martha was surprised as she had no reason to dislike him, he was perfect in her eyes. After their several hours-long chat, they simply sat pressed against each other, watching the water run by.

This became a common occurrence as the days slipped into weeks and into months. The time spent together was wonderful and Martha wanted it to last forever. However, spring had come after fall and winter became almost like a distant memory when she learned of her pregnancy. jills always knew when they were expecting, Martha's mother told her, and Martha was no different. All the signs had been there. The only problem she had was with Steve. It wasn't technically Steve, but males of the possum species had little to do with their babies. The jacks on creek's hill had all had babies but did nothing for them. Instead, they chase the next pretty face they saw. Martha knew it was selfish, but she wanted to stay with Steve. She didn't want him to leave her. So, despite wanting to see him, she decided to stay home and prepare a nest. Although her babies would go into her pouch and stay there for two and a half moons, she felt it necessary to be ready for anything. Besides, she needed to keep her mind off of Steve.

But the day soon came where she needed to visit him. She knew it wasn't fair for Steve to be left in the dark, especially since none of this was entirely his fault. So, on a calm spring morning, Martha nervously made the trek to the creek. Of course, Steve was waiting for her. He had been waiting for her all this time. The usually rational and collected Steve began to fret over the expecting mother, worried that something had happened to her. Martha's heart broke when she saw the worry in his eyes. Finally, once both of them all calmed down, Martha began to speak. She told him about the pregnancy, how far along she was, and her fears. She told him how she dreamed of meeting a man just like him and how she was so afraid to lose him. However, Martha told him that she couldn't make him stay and that, if he wanted to leave, he could and that she wouldn't hold it against him. Silence filled the clearing. All Martha could feel was his gaze on her. Her breathing grew louder but she tried to remain calm.

Suddenly, Steve pressed himself against Martha. Although he didn't say anything, the message was clear. Steve was going to stay, no matter what. Martha let out several happy squeaks and trills and buried her muzzle in his fur. Even Steve let out a couple of excited chirps. Once the two pulled away, the pair touched their noses together, excitedly waiting to see what the future held for the both of them.

---

"Wait, why was their love forbidden? And I never thought you'd be so... Detailed." Rubi said once the story came to a close.

"Well, blame Martha," Neighbor explained. "She's the one who always said it was forbidden because of the symbolism of them being split by the creek or whatever. Personally, I'm just happy Steve stayed. Martha is such a happy possum and I'd be sad to see her sad."

"Me too." Rubi agreed, stroking the back of a black-tufted joey. 

As if it was their cue, Steve and Martha slipped under the fence with Martha calling out to her babies. The joeys let go of Rubi and Neighbor and eagerly rushed towards their parents. Steve didn't make any noise as his children began to climb all over him. Martha chirped at Rubi and Neighbor, seemingly smiling at them.

"What did she say?" The older woman asked.

"Martha says thank you for watching her babies and that it was a wonderful anniversary. They have to go home though, it's growing late for the joeys." Neighbor translated.

The possums said their goodbyes (according to Neighbor) and left the yard. Neighbor stood up and stretched.

"I need to go home too. Mom's making a pot roast tonight. Don't you have to take care of Marie?" 

"Marie's with her grandmother," Rubi said, waving to Neighbor. "Have a good dinner! Thank you for the story."

"It’s no big deal. Later."

With a quick hop over the fence, Neighbor was gone. Rubi took this time to enter the shed. It was covered with science equipment and tools such as hammers and bone saws, but Rubi already knew how to maneuver around the well-lit area. Her black-haired husband didn't look up from his work, but already knew who it was.

"Hello, dear. What did you do today?"

"Painted mostly," Rubi said, wrapping her arms around Herbert's neck in a loose hug. "With Marie gone, it's easier to work without having to worry about her eating something."

"Well, that's certainly a plus," Herbert said, glancing up at Rubi before looking back down at the dull gray-skinned body in front of him.

"It was also Steve and Martha's anniversary today. Neighbor told me the story of how they met."

"Martha?" Herbert quickly looked up after hearing the name of his favorite possum. "Is she upset with me?"

"No, she and Steve didn't tell us and they weren't upset when I saw them. They looked very happy, actually."

"That's good. I was afraid I needed to whip up a hastily made gift for them." Herbert sighed in relief.

Rubi made a noncommittal hum, making circles with her finger around her husband's collar bone. "Herbert."

"Yes, dear?"

"I wanna have another baby."

"Well, I think that can certainly be arran- Wait, what?"

[stillthesunkenstars]

Oh I absolutely agree with you there! I've found that everyone is so resistant to change they've become the thing they scorn most lmfao like the show wasn't about embracing change in the first place. I love Narvin as a character but god damn the way the fandom woobies them is the WORST. Also, I've noticed a LOT of gender essentialism and other iffy shit going on like yes, because pushing out queer/poc creators is SUCH a good look for a fandom /sic

also, there is one person in particular whose the absolute shadiest piece of garbage, like...they're actively classist and even bragged about voting for Brexit so...really not a good look that they haven't been called out for it because they're one of the fandom "darlings"

I'm pretty pissy and bitter too lmfao. it's nice to talk about it finally

Yes EXACTLY... the there is just very little meaningful analysis and criticism in the gallifandom in general (or on tumblr, there is that pod of rassilon on podcast that discusses episodes but I gave up after two or three episodes because there is just such a generous helping of brax bashing) and especially to challenge popular fanon. As of narvin... I just couldn’t like him at the start because I was raised in similar environment as he did (closed off country with no internet access to outside, right wing racist parents who actively tried to brainwash me for a long time) but I always had doubts on their words so it’s completely unthinkable and irredeemable imo for him to be such a racist xenophobe whose prone to genocide even if his character develops later on (it’s just unacceptable for me in the first place) and though I’m not really an expert on gender... as a poc the lack of discussion (acceptance even) of the imperialist themes it’s definitely uncomfortable for me.

And that person you are talking about... it just seems really ironic to me that being classist and voting for brexit (isolationism??) are some of the exact themes the show strongly criticized...... the lack of awareness... and yeah this fandom darling culture in western fandoms it’s really something that disgusts me a lot because in eastern fandoms the status you hold are directly correlated to being a creator and the quality of your creations. And in here it’s somehow a privilege competition of how many merch you own and which members of the cast you had met in person? And from this ‘status’ there is a very strong snobbishness that comes with it and I dislike it a lot.

[grimmjowkurosakidrake]

fic propmt for ss- Sasuke going through emo phase, Sakura bubble gum pop who are neighbors and are annoyed by each other’s taste in music

Look at me answering fics prompts months after, I’m the worst I know! XD

This fic is a songfic inspired by A*Teens’ A perfect match! I know the ask was about Sasuke’s emo phase and you were expecting a little bit more Fall out boy than Dir en Grey but deal with me, my emo phase was my visual kei phase so I don’t know much about western emo music. Also, both Sasuke and Sakura are Japanese xD!

Well, without further ado, the fic:}

Perfect Match

Your family says that it’s just a phase, the fact that you like to wear dark colors on your clothes and you listen to angry music because that is what boys your age do and there’s nothing to worry about.

They don’t like to talk about the anger and the sadness you feel. You’re twenty and already in collage. You don’t think this is a phase anymore, now you’re just angry.

They don’t like to talk about how you’re a lot more sensitive than your brother and how you’re not all that much interested in becoming a lawyer just like him.

You are the second son of a rich family that never had to struggle for anything, you have absolutely nothing to be sad or angry about, or at least, that’s what they think.

But even with all the money they have you still had to sell your TV and your music system just to buy tickets for a “The Gazette” concert back in 2009 and even thought they can totally afford for suits you don’t want and private tutors you don’t need, you still had to sell your car and work for four months just to travel to Seoul and get tickets for the “Metallica” and “Baby metal” concert hosted there this year.

It was a great experience, it made you happy beyond belief, but that happiness you experienced, those feelings that for once weren’t depressing and anxiety-infusing, weren’t enough for your family.

Maybe that’s why you’re angry.

You’re angry when you arrive at your street on the buss, alone, because no one would come and see you at the airport and you’re definitely angry when your find Sakura, your childhood neighbor, dancing to fucking Reol’s “Give me a break” on her brand new music system that her mom bought her last month just so she could go and spend the money she makes on the Maid Caffe she works part-time on her mindless clothes and accessories.

She looks cute, you have to admit, with her too short, hot pink shorts and her Harajuku style black crop top with a Kabuki mask printed on it. She’s wearing the pink pearl collar you saw her buy a few days after your trip and you just know that the eyes of those stupid cat earrings she’s wearing are actually real diamonds.

It angers you how she can spend her money on making herself look how she wants to look so easily when you can’t even buy a pair of ripped, black jeans with all the money your father makes.

So, you lash at her “Could you shut up with that shit, please?” You ask her from across your own lawn, “I don’t want to listen to your garbage today.” She glares at you, her green eyes accentuated by her cat eye makeup, and then she turns up the music.

She’s a fierce girl Haruno Sakura.

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

You find yourself obliged to talk to her again when your parents invite hers to a late dinner on your house.

They force you to take her to your room and warn you with a tight lipped “behave yourself or else…” that makes you wonder what else could they take away from you now that you don’t even have a car.

She makes herself comfortable on your bed as you turn on your computer and My Chemical Romance’s Teenagers starts rolling through the music list. She makes an annoyed face at your choice in music but doesn’t say anything.

It’s your room, your rules, after all. And she’s smart enough to acknowledge this universal rule.

She’s wearing nicer clothes today. An all-black assemble consisting of a lite crop top only covering her small breasts paired with a big black bomber jacket and loose black, dress pants with a cute bow on top. Even when you couldn’t care less about clothes and fashion you think she looks insanely good tonight and you can’t take your eyes off her.

“You like my outfit?” She asks with a smirk when she notices your intense gaze on her.

“Yeah…” You answer, sitting by her legs on your bed.

“It’s by Yohji Yamamoto’s summer collection!” Beams Sakura, “You would think that with this level of minimalism it would be from a European designer you know?”

Whatever she says it sounds like a question, and even when you don’t know of what she’s talking about you mumble a small “Sure” as you come closer to her.

She smiles, “but no, it’s one of our own!” Giggles Sakura with clear excitement in her voice “We really do have to start appreciating our own artists more.”

“That sure is interesting,” You answer, so near her face that you can feel her warm breath against yours.

You really want to kiss her.

She’s beautiful, awful taste on music and all, she’s always happy and cute, more than anything. Happy like you never are, always optimistic and irreverent like her music and her clothes so kissing her red-looking lips that never stop smiling it’s all you can think about.

She kisses you first, the sweet taste of her lips on your own and the feeling of her petite arms around your neck making you feel like never before.

“I didn’t know you were interested in art,” she comments as she ends the kiss.

“I’m not,” you smirk, “But South Park says you can get a girl by faking interest in her and they’re not wrong.”

Sakura doesn’t hit you or screams, she just pushes you away, takes off her jacket and takes a copy of The Mist from your bookshelf to read in silence. You are able to see the expanse of her pristine, beautiful back and the beautiful Sakura tree branch tattoo that adorns her right arm and collarbone the whole night until she eventually leaves with her parents.

But you’re not allowed to touch and that is punishment enough.

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

You invite her to see a horror movie a few days later and she accepts, Sakura seems to hate the movie the whole time but the way she blushes when you put your arm around her shoulders makes you think she may be enjoying herself anyway.

You don’t understand until she invites you to an art gallery for a friend of hers whose work is being accepted that you finally understand the appeal of doing things you hate just for the person you like.

Her friends are boring and snobbish, but she’s wearing a form fitting red dress with her back bare and she allows you to rest your hand there the whole night.

You’re allowed to kiss her anywhere and everyone just knows that she’s yours and you’re hers by principle of her the closeness you share.

When you discover that you both want to go to a 2000s bands tribute after the party and she shows you the blue leather skirt she’s going to change into, you discover that maybe you’re not all that different.

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

Her clothes are always styled to look the way she likes them. Be it cute or sexy or that delicious combination of both that you like so much on her. With her short, pink skirts and her long, boyfriend t-shirts.

Her family is a very progressive one and they don’t mind how much skin she shows off or the art she has on her skin.

Everything is pristine on her, even her few tattoos, because she planed and wanted those changes on her.

But the holes on your pants are messy and not at all how you want them to look. You had to cut them yourself after all and you’re shit with anything that has to do with clothes, you don’t know about fabric and you always end up cutting where you should not.

This all ends when you start dating Sakura.

This time you’re in her room, listening to freaking Grease’s You’re the one that I want (and not saying anything because her room her rules, after all), as she carefully cuts holes on your jeans.

She looks happy to do so, because she loves clothes and spicing them up, she even buys a few skull patches to sew on the pockets and those small details make you happy just like the concerts and music make you happy.

You kiss her deeply when you go to your own house by night and she winks at you from across her window as Marina and the Diamonds’ Bubblegum bitch blasts through her music system.

As your parents who always thought of her as the nice girl from across your lawn frown at the lyrics of the singer crying “I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch!”, you can’t help but think that she’s a perfect match for you.

[6blackfilin9]

Just decided to show that I'm still alive over here

So guess it's LongShitpost Time

A very long post about The Batman's (2004) Penguin

And well, I've been thinking about making it for about a year, so.. here we are, watching me behaving like an easily surprised kid babbling about Oswald and how much I admire him and why

Actually nothin' important or highly moral here. If you still wanna read then just forget it's talk about a character from a kids show, I take this sh🐧t seriously and barely speak English

I like to take a lot of screenshots but can't use here all of them uuUUuUuuUUUUUGH

It's all about the 1st episode of 2nd season of The Batman (mostly, I also mention other my two fav episodes with Oswald)

I like it so much cuz this all just starts with "cat-mouse play" kind of cooperation which leads to "well guess you two will be chillin' in jail in pure mammalian harmony" and ends up with "oh no no no, this is your thievish girl, so you take her back"

"— You two pointy-ears make such a cute couple: his and hers."

"— Hm, made for each other."

I just crack up at this plot line so much

But well, being more serious, this episode unveils some of Oswald's personality traits quite vividly.

Going back to the first episode when he appeared, from the first sight it looked like the most of the time he acts like a mindlessly arrogant jerk who has no clue about what he’s doing, as most of kid-show villains, and tends to lose his temper fast , but if you look closer you’ll see that huge amount of his conduct lines are just a part of the games he plays

Like, he came to the Bruce's party just to take the damn list of guests, that’s the goal

But because of his behavior in public's eyes he wasn't the "strange quiet guy who's been looking around for all the time, than took the list of rich guests from butler and than left while there are robberies of rich people occurring in the city". He was "arrogant snobbish freak who thinks he's some sort of royalty (despite his family lost its place at the top of Gotham's society) so he acts around them as if they were peasants", so, for everyone it looks like the only thing he came for was attention, plus, influenced by negative emotions, people didn't notice such a potty movements as putting some paper in his jacket. I mean none even managed to notice that he stole the motherf🐧cking tray

(Well, for sure Oswald's quite snobbish about his family and it's "blue blood", can’t deny that, though he doesn’t behave that defiantly all the time and the only time when he completely loses it, cracks and explodes about this was when he became enraged hearing Alfred's words whom he took hostage in Bruce's house. That was a very bad day for him)

And come on, Oswald had patience and intelligence to figure out how to teach different predatory birds like ravens and owls, who actually tend to be wayward and even agressive time to time, to steal damn stuff from houses and how to make those f🐧cking badass high-tech umbrellas himself

So, cool man

If that episode showed his enormous arrogance, devotion to his family, resourcefulness, intelligence and hidden potential, this one shows how cunning, selfish, cold, ruthless and at some point insightful he can be

Back to the episode, it literally opens with the start of the strategy competition between Oswald and Selina

First they meet they start with a direct verbal flight for the Cat statue, which Oswald wins. So Selina, willing to get what she wants, desides to get down on a more manipulative subtle level playing love interest

So, of course Oswald gets stunned at first, I guess not every girl treats him this way every day, but he effectively uses this state to figure out his following plan and actions, and immediately starts behaving as a school boy in love.

So the man literally changed his tactics in a couple of seconds and figured out the new plan with the new “puppet” involved. Selina didn’t even notice anything thinking that she managed to hook him up easily so she now can manipulate him as she wants.

(guess Bruce was right, these two are worth each other: both prideful as heck)

So later their game enters the new fervent phase: they both play love interest in front of each other, and Oswald nailes his role just perfectly, making Selina even more convinced of his naivety so she reduces her alertness completely.

But guess he enjoyed this at some point. Like, Selina is a charming beautiful woman able to maintain a pleasant conversation with couple of dry sarcastic notes, so, I think this shade of sincerity helped him to play his part

And well, for quite huge amount of time Oswald makes that devil face with crooked grin which makes him look like a f🐧cking Satan, or just beings grumpy hardened journalist who had seen some shit which makes him look like he's about to have a severe breakdown, but here as he is around Selina in the first part of the episode he's completely calm like a damn fat cat, serious, focused and straight-faced, that's just gorgeous

He cracks up a bit ahead of time just once, when she manages to get the Bird statue

But as it goes to the showdown he doesn’t show even a hint of genuine sympathy or regret, he’s just like “well get reked Selina” and takes English leave

Well, I know it’s a kids show, Bruce saves the day and stuff, but Oz did literally put the bomb in the f🐧cking handcuffs so in case one of the two tries to put them off before the police arrive they actually f🐧cking die. I mean, that's kinda rough. But at the other hand it’s quite nobly but shortsighted of him to leave his enemies alive having a chance to interfere him later

And well, maybe Oswald isn’t good at etiquette, but he have never beaten Selina or any other lady if it came to close fight, while Batman did. Ozzie is a gentleman, shame on ya Bruce

And just to be said, the motherf🐧ucker didn’t even blink when the f🐧king half of his god damn umbrella was cut off right in front of his f🐧cking face. And oh my god, how f🐧cking firm Oswald's grip is that the hella heavy umbrella all made of f🐧cking metal didn't even swayed from the impact in the most stout place. Badass.

And just for a second, Oswald managed to dig to the bottom of that legend about the Bird and Cat statues and started putting the plan into action only after he had found all the necessary information about it (which he had to translate himself from ancient Egyptian), so that the first time he used it, it didn't turn out that he missed something and summoned some ancient shit so now the whole world is in danger (as it happens with villains in movies sometimes).

(The saddest part is that the only single thing that prevented the shit from happening was immense amount of luck. mean Bruce has all kinds of gadgets for literally any situation and knows literally everything just in case. Like, it was very useful of Bruce to study ancient Egyptian just in case someone decides to use egyptian artifacts for evil stuff. And they were so f🐧king lucky the the birds weren’t hungry and didn’t try to peck their faces off while they were climbing the god damn lighthouse which is already hella dangerous even without the maniac birds trying to knock you down)

Well, what do we have so far

Even if Oswald does have some temper issues, he's capable of making some keen psychological tricks, making strategies and keep his head above water, the only thing that actually hampers him is his own pride (like in the episode with Team Penguin. He does have some leadership qualities but he turns from leader into boss quite quickly thinking of himself only)

And, importantly, he is being at some level realistic and objective realizing that none actually takes him seriously.

He understands that for most of the people he’s just a deformed and depraved man with a funny voice, who’s also a descendant of the aristocratic family which ran out of money and lost former authority.

And he uses it for his own good. He couldn't if he didn't, otherwise he'd choose way less twisted ways of behavior

He knew what would the people at the party see in him, so he could predict what behavior would cause the result he needed.

He understood Selina wouldn’t take him as a serious opponent, seeing him as a lonely slow-witted man or whatever, being sure that she can hook him as any other in such an unpretentious way she thought she would be able to make him do all the work instead of her. His awareness made her plans all exposed and clear

But all this negligence combined with his pride does hurt him though, no doubt. There’s a whole episode about it, when he occupied Bruce’s house.

He has his own reasons to envy and hate Bruce, by the way. They both are from rich families, both intelligent, strong and talented, but Bruce is more young and handsome, plus, his family business remained successful. At this point he is much more luckier than Oswald

I mean even if it gets to falling Bruse safely falls on tent and Oswald falls on the dirty ground through hell, fire and high boiling water (I don't give a shit that it had been made for the comedy matters)

Basically, the only thing Oswald is doing is trying to restore not only the family’s honor, but also his own with help of money and growth of his authority. Maybe even to show others and himself that he’s something more than just a garbage. That he's something more than he seems to be at the first sight

But as far as I can see Oswald has never been that type of poor kid with low self esteem crying in a shower with the lights off and who then starts to hide behind the wall of arrogance as he grows up. I mean right in this episode he says that his mother had always told him that he was a handsome one, so I think his parents loved him, maybe even spoiled at some point, and gave him confidence and warmth he needed.

Though well, to be fair, children are cruel, and of course they would react to the child who lookes like a victim of a crazy geneticist's experiment in a very specific way. Some would avoid him no matter what it takes, for sure some would get used to him and communicate normally, but some would mock and bully him severely. So of course he would start to protect himself

But sadly he went in wrong direction, since his confidence became arrogance and his ways became much more twisted and radical

Even as an adult he’ve chosen a really slippery slope, though. He could've chosen a different path, but (as I guess) he couldn't overcome his sense of injustice and his resentment towards people around him, who actually neglected and loathed him. So he just sank in his negative experience and sharpened himself as the lone survivalist, which made him egotistical to the point when he doesn't care about the others and can actually stumble in some situations, being sure he can't be wrong

His actions can't be justified, but they can be explained. Oswald is really very understandable character

So

There is actually no moral of the post

Just me coming to conclusion that The Batman's Oswald appears to be quite deep in the first seasons

Yes, I just wasted about 5 minutes of your life, and you can't take those back

But I can leave you with a question besides frustration

Why in the bloody hell are they holding each other?!

I mean come on

Few hours ago they revealed mutual betrayal, he almost killed her, dropped her on the froor so she couldn't run away with the thing he needed, and now they hold each other flying away on a jet-umbrella

And don’t f🐧cking tell me they do this because of the fear that if one of them falls the other will too

No f🐧cking way

Just imagine flying on the f🐧cking jet-umbrella, you will cling to it so tightly that one day you will take it into your grave with yourself because you will not be able to unclench your f🐧cking fingers after a single flight, but instead of holding the motherf🐧cking umbrella they hold each other

So is it a weird joke or a very thick hint?

Who knows

[antler-steve]

✨ 1/4 hi can i join the dabi match up? 🥺 im 4'11, straight, asian and im a capricorn! & i think im really meant to be a capricorn lmao im an extrovert, sympathetic & v kind to others but im reserved most of the time, i dont like sharing (serious) stuff about me. im like friends with and kind to everyone but comfortable with few hehe im that friend u go to for an honest (harsh) but logical advice 😂

✨ 2/4 i am really independent, witty & driven/ambitious most of the time but i'd be so stubborn lol my friendliness may also come off as confidence but that's not really true i have a long ass list of insecurities that lie beneath djsksks in terms of athletic abilities i think im on average since i was into sports (football!) but my body shape isn't fit im a bit chubby n all :< i may have said im selfless & nice to everyone but that doesn't apply when im mad & i get so hot-headed v easily lmao

+ i also have a v snarky and sarcastic side sometimes it's funny sometimes it's snobbish tbh + my love language is words of affirmation & quality time so words really do give me the 🦋 tho im easily hurt i hate crying when there's other people around (but i can't really help it :c) my hobbies/interests basically says im a pretty chill nerd lmao i enjoy math&science, i love watching series/movies (bonus if it's thriller/mystery), reading, & listening to music hehe i also (secretly) sing 🥺

✨ 4/4 with dabi, knowing he's a villain, at first i'd think i'm delusional if i think im attracted to him. tho, i'd be so damn curious about him & im not gonna be surprised if that leads to attraction djdks since im really stubborn (even w/ my feelings) i think til the end i'd deny how i like him esp how i enjoy the back & forth banters & with my insecurity issues i think it will never cross my mind he's gonna like me back keldks i hope this isn't too long :< have a good day 🥺💕

***

Hey anon, you’re fine, thanks for sending in an ask. I like a bit of length, it gives me more to work with. But you didn’t put your age, so I’m not giving you any nsfw stuff.

I think I'm going to match you with…

Dabi

He flirts with you while you're in denial, at first because he thinks it's funny, but he likes teasing you a bit too much for that to be the only reason

The first gift he ever gives you is a drag on his cigarette

He has sent you four texts ever, three of them consist only of the word "ok"

He will never lend you his jacket if it's cold, but he will let you put your hands up his shirt. He'll give you shit about how cold your hands are but he secretly enjoys how they feel like little blocks of ice

Your first fight starts with a cold breeze, and broken glass on your bathroom floor. Dabi has come to visit, and you've been curled up on the couch together watching something until the cold starts to bother you. It was then that you'd seen it, the pane of glass smashed and the latch forced, a mess of sharp fragments littering the room. You storm back to Dabi, a fragment of it in your hand. "You broke the window in my bathroom?"

Dabi looks up at you, blue gaze insouciant. "Yeah."

"I just got that fixed!" you feel exasperation seep into your voice. "I had to bug my landlord for months."

"Well-" Dabi's lips quirk infuriatingly at the corners. "Maybe you shouldn't have."

"Dabi-" you spread your hands, frustrated.

"I always use that window to get in. What else did you expect me to do?" He turns away, shaking his head.

You set your jaw, scowling at him. "Maybe, and here's a thought, you could use the front door like a normal person?"

"Oh, so I'm a normal person now?" he drawls. "Newsflash, short stuff, I'm not exactly normal."

Somehow, Dabi always knows the exact thing to say to get on your nerves. "Being on the wrong side of a firework one time doesn't excuse being an inconsiderate shit to everyone in your life, you overcooked piece of lean cuisine," you snap, tossing the piece of glass you've picked up into your garbage.

The air in the room goes dead. You've made a mistake. You've treated him like a person, not like the  incendiary maniac he is. Blue fire flashes in his eyes, and you take a step back as he advances on you. Your back is against the wall, and Dabi leans over you, palm on the wall above your head.

"You gonna say that again, doll?" he says, tone flat. You stop breathing for a second as he stares down at you, but he's not using his fire. The things that have been upsetting you swirl around in your mind, and it's not just the broken window that you're going to have to get fixed again, it's your boyfriend being a villain who's going to end up in Tartarus if he gets caught, so you can't even tell your friends he exists. You can't even complain about his scorched ass to anyone. It's too much.

You shake your head as you feel tears form at the corners of your eyes, and push your way past him, leaving the room. His body is solid under his loose t-shirt, but he doesn't resist, blue eyes fixed on you as you close the door behind you.

You throw yourself on the bed as a sob escapes you. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You've let your anger get the better of you and now Dabi's going to leave. He's going to slip out into the night, and you're never going to see him again. Maybe that's for the best. The thought rips another sob from you.

You don't hear Dabi come into your room, but you feel the bed shift under his weight as he sits beside you, patting your side to get you to make room for him. He flops down by your side, a soft noise as he expels air through his lips. He's not touching you, but you can feel the warmth that radiates from his skin.

You sniff into your blanket, eyes still wet. "I'm not gonna apologise."

"I know," he says. It occurs to you that he really deserves an apology, you were pretty savage to him, but that would require him to give you an apology about the window, and you both know he's too proud to give you that.

"Truce?" you ask.

"Mm." Dabi rolls into your side, an arm slung over you carelessly. "You really think I'm an… what was it you said? An overcooked piece of lean cuisine?" His tone is light, more amused than angry, though there's still an edge to it. You've managed to hurt his feelings this time, those things you sometimes forget he has.

You roll so that your back is to him, so he can't see what a mess your crying has made of your face, and you feel his lips brush the top of your head as he pulls your body to his. "You're more than that, Mr Crispy." You sigh, sinking against him, his warmth easing the tension in the muscles of your back. "Though if you want to come in the front door in future, I could give you keys for my place."

"Keys, huh?" he asks. "What if I lost them?"

On a whim, you reach up and behind you, fingers brushing the metal of the piercings in his ears. "You've got rings, don't you? Just attach them to one of those."

Dabi snorts, jabbing a thumb into the softness of your belly to make you squeal. "Fuck you," he rasps, half laughing, but he’s not mad at you anymore.

[kamijoxversailles]

I'm greedy so do all the mun thingies ♡ - karmas typist

ooc - pffft.... Greedy mun!!!! XD

¯\_(ツ)_/¯:  do you have any tumblr friends? if so, who are they?

I do! I consider several people my friends here, including, but ABSOLUTELY NOT EXCLUSIVELY @moonaeraa and @haidoneko. There are several others. I feel like I become friends with most of the people I rp with.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°):  relationship status?

Single and completely uninterested in mingling. 

ಠ_ಠ:  what is your biggest pet peeve?

When people drop casual misogyny and expect me to think it’s funny. They may not realize they’re misogynistic, but that doesn’t make it funny.

(ಥ_ಥ):  finish this: i hate it when…

I hate it when adults talk about their flaws or what they don’t like about their bodies, while children can hear it. Also, when they talk about how bad their children behave - WHILE THE CHILD HEARS IT! Yes, I’m looking at you, brother dear and sister-in-law!

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ:  what is your favorite animal?

PENGUINS!

(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞ ☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜):  who is someone you can tell everything to?

My little sister, and my real-life friend Ingunn.

(づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ:  are you a hugger?

If I know the person, yes. If they’re a stranger, then no.

(╯°□°)╯︵ ʞooqǝɔɐɟ:  besides tumblr, do you have any other social media?

I have an instagram, nordlysfantasi. I am sorry to say it is very unorganized. I post what I FEEL like. I don’t have a system.

﴾͡๏̯͡๏﴿?:  how old are you?

I’ll be 29 years old on May 28th!

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻:  what are your thoughts on school?

An important and good thing. Education is good. I DO believe the system is flawed, and I think it is VERY wrong the way society is focusing on higher education as being the end-all be-all. Not everyone needs a doctorate, you know? We need waiters and hairdressers and garbage workers and grocery store people just as much (or, as this pandemic shows - MORE than!) professors and CEOs. 

| (• ◡•)| (❍ᴥ❍ʋ):  favorite tv show?

Supernatural! Also, I will admit, Botched. I am currently slightly obsessed with Botched...

(ง'̀-‘́)ง:  are you okay?

Right now? Yes. This answer would obviously change from day to day.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:  ･ﾟ✧: sexual orientation?

Lesbian. I’m sex repulsed, though. I will gladly WRITE smut, but... I don’t want to touch or be touched in any sexual way. 

┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴:  are you a people person or a loner?

I’m a people person with some very specific people, or with a wide range of people for a very limited time. I’m GOOD with people. I WORK with people. But except for my very closest friends, I prefer to spend my free time alone. Company I don’t choose myself tires me out VERY quickly.

ლ(ಠ益ಠლ):  do you have any siblings?

Hell yes! Three older brothers, one older sister, and one younger sister! 

ಠ╭╮ಠ:  have you ever self harmed?

Yes. Not in the ways most commonly shown in movies. But yes.

(づ￣ ³￣)づ:  have you ever been in love?

Only with fictional characters~

(☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞:  would you rather be hugged by a bunny or kissed by a doe?

Hugged by a bunny! I don’t like to be kissed or licked by ANYTHING.

(ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻:  how do you let your anger out?

Crying. I cry a LOT. 

ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ:  are you active?

At work, yes. I work in a daycare. In my free time? Hmm. Uuuuh. Nope. 

ヾ(⌐■_■)ノ♪:  what are your favorite band(s)/artist(s)?

Kamijo, Versailles, Malice Mizer, Dead End, Buck-Tick, Galneryus, Emilie Autumn, Tori Amos, Priscilla Hernandez, Indica, Dreamcatcher. 

（╯°□°）╯︵(\ .o.)\:  who is your least favorite person?

My dad, my second oldest brother, and his wife (my sister-in-law)

♥‿♥:  tell us about your crush!

I suppose Kamijo is a sort-of crush. I’m lesbian, and not interested in him sexually, but DAMN, he’s handsome, and his voice makes me melt!

◔̯◔:  what time is it?

Right now, it’s 10:31pm.

◕‿◕:  what is your guilty pleasure?

Online, I have no guilty pleasures. I am proud to be me, and like what I like. In real life... Almost everthing I like is a guilty pleasure. I don’t show my art taste to my family, I don’t play my music for them, I seldom tell them what the books I read are about, I would NEVER tell them I watch Botched - a show about plastic surgery. I’d NEVER admit to them that I listen to kpop. My family are.....kinda snobbish. I come from a family that’s full of professional musicians, some of them metal and rock, most of them classical. I’m a classically trained pianist and singer myself. I’ve grown up having pop music and pop stars made fun of in my home.  I’m confident in many things, but when it comes to telling my family that “yeah, I DO like pop music, actually!” that’s just....that’s not gonna happen. Coming out as a lesbian was easier. They’re cultural elitists. 

◔ ⌣ ◔:  are you a virgin?

Virginity is a silly concept born of patriarchal values placed on a woman’s chastity. Most common definitions of virginity mainly mean - have I had a dick inside my vagina? The answer is no, so by that definition, I am a virgin. But I have had sexual experiences, so by less rigid definitions of virginity, no, I’m not a virgin.  So. Why don’t we just get rid of that whole concept, eh?

[marcoacesabo]

Hello !! I love your writing and I wanna ask you if it's possible a MAS with an omegaverse theme! Like two alpha for one omega or one alpha for two omega please? (nsfw will be an add but do as you feel) thank you and have a good day

Sabo is an omega. A real shock to everyone that meets him, seeing as he is nothing like a proper omega should be. But then again, he’s not exactly the type of person who follows people's expectations in any other area either.

Despite the fact he dresses like a prince, Sabo would rather be the knight in the heat of battle.

Despite the fact he is fair in hair, Sabo is far from the stereotype dumb blond (which is a dumb stereotype, to begin with)

Despite the fact he is noble, Sabo can often be found in the commoners market scoffing at the rich men’s sensitivities.

 Being an omega wasn’t a big role in his life nor was it something to take much notice in everyday activities. It was just something he was, the same importance as being tall- another thing that made people believe he was an alpha- where someone would point it out only in selected settings.

In the old days, omegas weren’t allowed as many rights as their alphas and betas counterparts seeing as they were seen as the “delicate” and “frail”  sort of people. But times have changed, and nowadays people have come to terms with the fact that their Presenting was not in charge of their worth or roles in society.

Of course, there were some that clung to the old ways, (his parents were a fine example) who had the ideal image of what Presenting class were supposed to be and stereotypes still ran rampage (Which is why people got shocked at Sabo’s) but they weren’t as limiting as before.

With the invention of Scent Suppressers, most of the youth didn’t even know what Presenting class their friends were without one of them saying it themselves.

Sabo, however, can admit to being lonely. He wanted a Beta or Alpha to cuddle up with but not because of his class. He just likes being the big spoon to someone and having a fulfilling romantic relationship.   

Just his luck that only Omegas and the rare not his type Betas flirted with him. The last time he almost screamed when an Omega had attempted to lure him in with a naughty little hint of his scent. The guy had been far too daring but Sabo gave him points for trying.

There were a few he liked, but for some reason, they didn’t like him. Now it was stated that his P class was only pointed out in certain circumstances, and while true, they tended to be mostly in his love life. A real inconvenience if you asked him.

“I just wish someone would stay with me even after finding out my P Class.” He whines to Koala and Law, who was a Beta and Alpha respectively. They were taking a break together at a local cafe as per usual in their work schedules. “Did I tell you the last date I went on ended with a “You shouldn’t trick innocent Betas like myself.” bit? Like hey asshole, you were the one that walked up to me at the bar, not the other way around.” 

Koala snorts into her hand.  “Sounds like you dodged a real loser then.”

Law raised his hot chocolate as if though he was casting a blessing upon the table. “To our amazing dodging skills good lads. And lady.”

“We all know I’m the best lad here” Koala counters easily. “When it comes down to it, you’re both peasants.”

“Isn’t Sabo a literal lord? Or was that a fever dream I had once.”

“It was a fever dream”

“Figured.”

Sabo hated to admit it, but his friends' antics did cause his lips to twitch in amusement. He didn’t want to be cheered up though, he wanted to pout a bit and whine about his bad luck. “Can we please get back on topic? How am I ever going to find love?”

Koala tapped her chin then snapped her fingers. Based on her expression Sabo knew to be on guard. “We could set you up.”

“I rather eat poison.” Sabo quickly shots down the idea. Across from him, his best friends deflates with a pout. 

“I rather you do that then whine about how lonely you are too”  Law tacks on with a nonchalance that the blond envies sometimes. “Besides, what the worst that can happen? You go on a date, it doesn’t work and you keep looking.”

Sabo rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t date a friend’s family or friends. It makes things awkward if they don’t work out.”

Koala blows out a dramatic sigh rolling her eyes at his rules. Which wasn’t fair, Sabo had them for a reason!  “Well, how else are you going to meet someone? Going door to door with a boyfriend application?”

Sabo frowns at her, choosing to take a bite out of his muffin then grace that sarcasm with an answer. At that moment the cafe door is swung open, the little bell at the top announcing the arrival of new customers.

 Law slumps in his seat with a groan when he spots them over the girl’s shoulder.  “Oh great, Strawhat-ya is here and I look like garbage. Again.”

At this both Sabo and Koala perk up. They have been hearing little mentions of the infamous Strawhat for over three months now, ever since Law joined a local art class in which the Alpha meets the bubbling crush of his.

From the various stories- note the various rants and whining- Law has only been able to cross paths with the younger male when he looks his “worse” aka in the early mornings the class started at (A time everyone knows Law looked half-dead) or whenever the other model wasn’t prepared.  

Sabo wanted to point out they were on break between a photoshoot and all three had turn heads down the street but he chooses not to. Despite the fact, Law is a professional model the Alpha still had trouble coming to terms with people thinking him attractive. 

Bullying tended to leave some scars after all.

“Which one is he?” Sabo asks attempting to crane his neck over Koala’s shoulder without making it obvious. She also turns around but unlike Sabo, she doesn’t let her eyes linger before returning her gaze to the fluster Alpha on the blond’s right side.

 Law jabs an elbow into his rib. “Stop it. He’s going to see us! And who do you think I’m talking about when I saw Strawhat-ya in a group of guys with only one of them wearing a straw hat?”

“Sheesh, no need to be mean about it I just-”

“Traffy?” The straw hat-wearing young man says across the cafe. He seems to have barely noticed them but the way his face brights up it seems as if though his favorite holiday came early. Sabo can see the appeal, the kid is as cute as a button.

Not his type, but adorable none the less as the guy practically skips over. He seems to be unaware or uncaring of the stares he’s receiving from the other customers and Sabo likes him that much more.

Behind him, a group of four males follows, all seeming used to their friend running off mid-conversation. 

“Hello, Strawhat-ya.” Law says, cooly. Koala’s pleasant smile she uses on strangers twitch and Sabo tries not to sigh out loud. To any who didn’t know him, Law came off as snobbish and standoff-ish, whenever he became nervous his face twisted to lock down any emotion. 

Right now, with his face perfectly blank, he was probably terrified with nerves. Luckily “Strawhat” took it in stride.  “I didn’t know you liked this place!”

“I visit it on my breaks some times.” Law gestures to the other two people on the table making the big round eyes take them in for the first time.  “By the way, this is Sabo and Koala.”

“Hello.” 

“How do you do?”

Strawhat stares at them with such an intense expression for a few seconds Sabo’s almost sure he’s sizing them up for a fight before it clears away and he happily gestures to his own group. For half a second the blond wonders if he imagined that. “This is Zoro, Ussop, Marco and Ace. Guys this is Traffy.”

Sabo turns his polite smile onto the group, following the hand that points each male out and almost swallows his tongue on the last two. Wow. Now there was certainly his type.

Koala kicks him which alerts Sabo he may have been staring a little too much. Thank the Sea the table cloth is long enough to hide her action otherwise he would have ended up looking like a bigger full.  

Unknown to him, the two males had noticed his stare and had shared a glance with knowing smiles. Koala is quick to invite the group to join them which they all agree to after pushing the tables together.

Strawhat ends up sitting to a very tense Law, and Sabo is somehow moved to sit next to Marco as a result. 

“Luffy tells us you're a model.” Ace starts with a polite smile. 

“I am,” Law says in a cutting tone. Sabo almost winces. 

Not seeming to mind the raven hair grins. “I’m a fashion designer myself. Marco and Luffy are too.”

“That’s nice.”  

There is a short pause where Sabo is trying to think of something, anything, to say when Marco suddenly lends into his side and whisper in his ear. “I don’t mean to be rude but your Scent Suppresser ran out.”

Sabo wonders if he was expecting him to blush or turn wide eyes at him. Some Omegas got embarrassed when that happened but really it was the same as seeing a girl’s bra straps. It didn’t matter. 

“So?” He asks with a raised brow. 

Much to his surprised delight, the other man found this answer amusing. “So nothing I suppose yoi.”

Ace who is sitting on Marco’s other side grins over the taller blond shoulder at Sabo.  “Oh, I like you. I’m an Alpha myself, so is Marco here. We sometimes ditch the suppressers too”

Sabo feels a thrill from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes. He takes another bite of his muffin eyeing the pair that seem to be having a conversation with nothing but gestures and glances. 

Not willing to get his hopes up but liking the possibility he grins. “Then I think we get along just fine gentlemen.”

Meanwhile, Koala, Zoro, and Ussop all gave each other uncomfortable looks seeing as they felt like the rest of the table were in their own little world. 

“So er, you guys like spicy food?” Koala asks as Luffy made gooey eyes at the stone-version of Law and Sabo shamelessly flirted with Ace and Marco.

[sailorportia]

Daily Drabble, 7th of January

“Write about the three worst things that happened to the protagonist before the story starts.“ Prompt from @writingprompts365

also available on Ao3

[previous drabble] [next drabble]

approx. 1,000 words

Little Witch Academia, Hannah England x Amanda O’Neill (angsty)

Hannah entered the Green Team's room without even knocking on the door first. "Hey, Yankee. Someone wrote you a letter." Technically students were supposed to pick up their own letters, but what Finnelan didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Amanda, who was lounging on her bed, perked up. "Oh, you wrote me a love letter?"

Hannah rolled her eyes. "As if. I would never do that. At all. Ever."

"The joke would've been on you. I  can't read."

"I can't tell if you're being serious, and I don't think I want to know."

Hannah waited for a retort that was not forthcoming. Amanda was glaring at the letter with the kind of fury reserved for one's worst enemies. And cockroaches.

"Is that your family's wax seal?"

"Who knows?" Amanda pulled out her wand and torched the letter out of existence.

"What the hell, Amanda?" It didn't take a genius to realize that Amanda had mixed feelings about her family. "Uh, do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Amanda said. "There's nothing to talk about. They don't deserve anyone's time. They'd love to have it. They want everything. Greedy, ugly garbage people."

Hannah blinked. "O-kaaay." She sat down next to Amanda. "You don't have to say anything you don't want to."

Amanda turned on her side, facing away from Hannah. "Those bastards pushed me into studying magic because my grandma's will . She wasn't even buried before they started squabbling over you was going to get her cash. They're disgusting." Every word she spat out had more venom than the last. Her family's bullshit had poisoned her view of magic. Her friends had to heal the damage her family created.

"If those oil baron chucklefucks think they can squeeze money out of them, they've got another thing coming," Amanda said bitterly. "I should donate millions to solar power research or something, just to spite them. Or maybe I could give it to eco-terrorists. Wait, I could be an eco-terrorist!"

"I see." Hannah searched for a tactful way of validating Amanda's feelings without saying what she really felt: that the O'Neill's were lower than dirt for hurting Amanda. "Your entire family can't be all bad. Isn't there someone who... isn't like that?"

Amanda shrugged. "My cousins are alright. But they can't afford to be seen with me."

"What do you mean?"

"That story's a real doozy." Amanda shifted again, sitting up and taking her pillow into her lap and scrunching it up. "The year before I started going to Luna Nova there was this big family gathering, right? A stupid ball or gala or whatever. They forced me to wear this god-awful frilly dress and did my hair like something out of a period drama. Seriously, it was the worst I've ever looked."

"Yeah, you look way better in a suit."

"What was that?"

"Uh, nothing. You were saying about the gala?"

"Right. Anyway, my shitty family was totally trying to set me and my cousins up with rich boys so they could make themselves even richer. Rich guys act even more entitled than regular guys, and they're twice as greasy. I practically had to use my wand as a flyswatter to keep them away. One of them got a little too rough with one of my cousins and I may have sorta kinda kicked three of his teeth out."

"Serves him right," Hannah said.

"I'm glad you think so. No one at the party did. Especially my family. They said I was a troublemaker. After that night my name was mud and nobody in the States would be caught dead with me."

Amanda hadn't been a fan of the snobbish social circles she'd forced to run in, but she had made a few friends... who dropped her the second their own social standing was at risk.

"Good riddance, she said. "I stopped even trying to meet their messed up expectations. I cut up all my dresses and sheared my hair off. That's where this iconic look comes from," she added, pointing at her wild hairdo.

"Well, that was enlightening," Hannah said. No wonder she has such a hate on for the aristocracy, she thought. We must seem like the exact same kind of people. But they weren't, were they? Honestly Hannah didn't know how she would've reacted if she had been part of the American upper-class rather than the British. It was a stark reminder of how much self-improvement she still had left to do.

"Well, do you know what we say about those kinds of people on this side of the pond?" Hannah asked.

"What?"

"They can go bugger themselves."

Amanda had been expecting something dry and sanctimonious. Anything but that. She burst out laughing. "Actually I think they're a little too stiff for that. Shit, Hannah, I really needed that."

Hannah grinned giddily. She was just a little too pleased that she had improved Amanda's mood. "I'm glad I could I help. I don't like it when you're sad."

Her friend's naked sincerity spooked her. "Don't get all mushy on me," she said dismissively.

Hannah took Amanda's dismissal as a challenge. "I'll get as mushy as I like." She winked. "Maybe if I'm feeling feisty I might even get touchy-feely."

A tingling sensation passed over Amanda's entire body and settled in her stomach. Hannah's words awakened feelings she hadn't allowed herself to have in forever. Gay feelings. For a girl. And not just "this girl is hot" feelings. Feelings feelings.

No way. I'm not getting myself caught up in that kind of thing again. Everyone knew about Amanda's playboy image, but nobody knew that her romantic history had one sad dead end of an entry. What she'd neglected to mention earlier that one of the people who abandoned her was her first and only girlfriend. A girl who was a little too similar to Hannah for her comfort.

Figures a dumbass like me would have a type that's so bad for me, Amanda thought. She liked Hannah a lot, but not enough to risk getting hurt again. Sorry, Hannah Banana, but we aren't getting any closer than this.

[marshmallow-phd]

A Royal Intrusion

Request:  Hi, love! This is Admin T from NoonaClock! May I request a royalty Au scenario with jongdae please? I adore your writing! Thanks so much in advance!! ❤❤❤

A/N: This was way too much to write!!! I hope you like it!

Genre: Royalty AU

Pairing: Jongdae x Reader

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4

Moodboard by @kreactionsentertainment (admin eva!)

**

“This really isn’t a good idea, Your Highness.”

Jongdae smirked. “You need to loosen up. Nothing’s going to happen!”

It was obvious that his personal guard was not going to agree.

Jongdae hated calling Minseok his personal guard. They were friends - best friends. They trained alongside each other, grew up together. As the second son of a duke, it was an honor for for both Minseok and his father. The only other position above him was Captain of the Guard, something he had no interest in. Jongdae was glad for that. He didn’t think he could accept anyone else by his side, trust anyone else with his life.

The back entrance was completely deserted as the two of them snuck out of the castle. It would take a little longer to get to his true destination in the heart of the capital and outside the palace walls, but it meant less chance of being discovered by the guards.

“Your mother is not going to be happy about this,” Minseok mumbled

“I'm sure she was actually expecting this,” Jongdae chuckled. “I did my duty. I said hello to the guests and danced with a few of the ‘eligible maidens’ she wanted me to.” He made sure his disdain was apparent in his voice.

As prince of the region, he had several unwanted duties he had to uphold. That included being friendly with young daughters of the dukes and lords of the kingdom as one of them could possibly be his future queen. Jongdae shuddered at the thought. Most of them were nice enough, he just couldn’t see himself spending the rest of his life with one of them. They were too… Jongdae sighed. He didn’t want to insult any of them. They were raised to be good wives, proper ladies. It wasn’t their fault it made them somewhat boring and too similar to each other.

Minseok check to make sure the coast was clear before nodding to the rebelling prince.

“Let’s go,” Jongdae urged. He ran past Minseok, too impatient to wait any longer. Gone were his fine dress blues, his heavy uniform covered in thick metals and a decorative sash that itched his neck whenever it shuffled out of place. Now he was in civilian clothes, certainly more comfortable to run around the empty streets. A majority of the citizens in the inner circle of the capital were at the ball, leaving him free to roam around without anyone trying to stop him or gawking at him.

It was a rare moment of freedom.

You hummed softly to yourself, smiling as you took down the sheets that were hanging up in the backyard to dry with the setting sun. It was peaceful, quiet. Just how you liked it.

Everyone else was gone, having their fun at the ball, including your father, stepmother, and sister.

You were quite lucky. Even the the fairytales had warned you that she would hate you and treat you like garbage, your stepmother was a bit of an angel. She treated you just as well as your half sister who was only fourteen. As you’ve gotten older, your stepmother had become more of your friend than a parental figure, which came in handy when convincing your father to not make you go to the ball.

It was pointless to you. As the daughter of a (though very well off) merchant, you were not an ideal match for the prince’s hand, easily overlooked for the higher class ladies. Not that you wanted to be an option anyway. The few knights you had met in the marketplace were a bit too full of themselves for your liking and no one else had caught your eye. Perhaps you were just too picky. Your father was putting more and more pressure on you lately to get married as you were that age now. But he understood that you wanted to marry for love for that’s what he did himself, but you needed time. Love at first sight was not something you believed in.

Just as you pulled down the last sheet from the wire, a scraping sound caught your attention. It seemed to be coming from the brick wall that seperated your backyard from the smith’s next door. Steeling yourself, you held the sheet to your chest protectively, wondering if you should run inside to safety.

“Ow!”

A silhouette popped up on the wall and the unknown figure crawled over, losing his footing and falling to other side, landing right in your stepmother’s rose bushes. Without thinking, you ran over to him.

“Are you okay?” you asked, kneeling down in front of him as he struggled to get to his feet.

“I’m fine,” he groaned.

In the last remaining light of the setting sun, you caught a glimpse of his face, making you gasp. You bowed your head, keeping your eyes down.

“Your Highness.”

“No, no, please, don’t do that.” Two hands grabbed your shoulders and forced you to your feet. “I’m sorry about your flowers.”

A little laugh escaped you. The Crown Prince was worried about the plants? And what was he doing climbing into your backyard? You lifted your head to ask just that question, but stopped when you noticed the cuts on his cheeks from the thorns.

You reached up reflexively but pulled your hand back, remember the inappropriateness of it.

“Y-your bleeding,” you pointed out.

The Prince brought his own finger to his face, the tips covered in blood when he pulled them away. He whined. “Mother’s going to kill me.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed again. He threw a look that was mixed with confusion frustration.

Clearing your throat, you offered, “I have a first aid kit in house, if you would like me to patch them up for you?”

A pair of piecing, deep brown eyes flickered back and forth between his hand and you, making your blood run hot. You always knew the Prince was handsome. Thanks to your family’s status and choice of residence you were often attending ceremonies and caught glimpses of His Highness from afar. He always wore a look of seriousness to match his royal uniform, giving him a sense of arrogance or haughtiness. However, as he stood in front of you now, he seemed much more… normal. And his lips, while not fully smiling, were pulled up slightly in the corners, giving him a little more personality beyond a stiffly portrait character.

He nodded. “Thank you.”

After a small curtsy, you turned and headed inside, assuming he would follow you. He did and you motioned for him to sit down at the table while you headed into the storage room to fetch the kit. Setting the small box on the table next the Prince, you poured him a glass of water.

“Thank you,” he whispered and gulped down nearly half the glass in one sitting.

You smiled, “You’re welcome.”

All the supplies you needed were right there so you uncorked the cleaning alcohol, soaking a cotton swab in the potent liquid.

Holding it up, you looked back up at him. “May I?”

He nodded. The moment you pressed the cotton to the first cut, he flinched, sucking in air between his teeth. You gave a small apology before continuing, holding his jaw in place with your free fingers.

“Can I ask you a question, Your Highness?” you asked. He hummed which you took as permission. “Why, exactly, aren’t you at the ball?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “I just… needed out. It’s too stuffy in there.”

You giggled. “I thought the ballroom was fairly large myself the last time I was there.”

A frown pulled at his lips. “You’ve been to the palace?”

It took some self discipline to not snap at him. You were wearing an old work dress that was stained and faded and were doing laundry while the high and mighty were dancing the night away. Of course he assumed you were a servant.

Taking a deep breath, you sighed. “Yes, I have. I’ve gone to a few celebrations with my father. He’s Sir Yoon, the merchant.”

This newly given information made his eyes widen. “Y-you’re Yoon Jihoon’s daughter?”

“Mm-hm.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why aren’t you at the ball?”

You shrugged, moving on from cleaning the cuts to tapping on small pieces of gauze to keep them from getting infected. It would be a shame to ruin the pretty face. “I saw no need to go. My father would just try to introduce me to some other snobbish high-born who thinks he’s God’s gift to women. I have no interest in people like that. They want an ornament for their arm. I’d rather have someone I can talk to. Not many people want to have a conversation with someone.”

“You mean, like how we’re having one right now?”

Your fingers froze. Risking it, you raised your eyes to meet his. They were staring at you again, making your heart pound in your chest. He was the prince - out of your reach in a sense - and yet here you were, getting all flustered like the heroines from the fairytales you grew up hearing before bed.

“I-I, um, well, I guess-” you took a deep breath, trying to calm your system down. “Sure. You could call this a conversation.”

He smirked. “Last time I checked, a conversation consisted of two people speaking back and forth on the same subject.”

Ugh. How could he be obnoxious and yet still appealing? You pouted your lips, unable to come up with a good comeback.

Your silence made him laugh, knowing he’d won. Without thinking, you slapped his shoulder as if he was one of your friends from the market rather than the Crown Prince. That hit to his arm stopped his laughter in its tracks and made you gasp at your own irrational action. Staring down at the spot you’d hit, he was still smiling if a bit shocked.

An apology was stuck in your throat due to being too stunned and you were sure that you had clearly crossed a line and were in trouble now.

Turning back to you, those eyes were sparkling, making your heart overreact again. A lock of hair had fallen out of your bun and was now hanging in front of your face. You wished more had fallen as well to hide your face in embarrassment. Still in silence, he reached out to you and pushed the hair out of your face and behind your ear. Heat rose to your cheeks and you knew they were turning pinker by the second.

A blinding smile grew on his face. “You know-”

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

The pounding at your front door was frantic, making you jump. Hopping up to your feet, you practically ran to the door, trying to put distance between you and your guest.

Opening up the door, you found the Prince’s personal guard standing there in a panic. He, too, was dressed plainly.

“Miss, I’m sorry to disturb you, but there were reports of an unknown person running through the area and I’m needing to see if you’ve heard anything unusual or saw something suspicious.”

“Oh, um-” you chewed on your cheek. He was obviously looking for the Prince. Were you supposed to lie and pretend you didn’t know anything?

“Don’t worry, Minseok,” said runaway laughed behind you. “I’m right here. I fell in some rose bushes in the backyard. The young miss was just patching me up.”

Minseok visibly relaxed. “Oh, thank goodness. I lost the guards. I’m sure they just gave up and went back to the palace, but I think it best if we returned as well.”

Jongdae nodded solemnly. “Yes, I think you’re right. I’ve caused enough trouble for the evening.”

You deflated. As strange as the situation was, you quite enjoyed speaking casually to the Prince and were sad to seem him go. But he had a duty and you were a few classes below his rank no matter how much property and money your father owned.

Nodding, Minseok turned to start walking away. Jongdae stepped out of the house, but turned back quickly before you could close the door.

“I never caught your name.”

You gave him a small smile. “(y/n), Your Highness.”

He repeated your name softly and it sounded heavenly coming from his lips. “Well, (y/n), if you don’t mind, I would really like to come visit you again tomorrow. Would my presence be welcomed?”

You nodded, probably a little too enthusiastically. “Yes, of course, Your highness.”

“Please, call me Jongdae. I’ll see you tomorrow, (y/n). Until then.” He took your hand and placed a gentle kiss just above your knuckles. At the insistence of his guard, he walked away, shooting you one last glance before he disappeared down the dark street.

Closing the door, you leaned your forehead against the cool wood and sighed, wondering how tomorrow could come any faster.

[barbaras-mermaid-cove]

The Date - Expertshipping (Atem x Aileen) Part 9

((A/N: Here's the long awaited Chapter 9 of "The Date!" In the coming chapters-Will Yami come to terms with his trauma? Will he be prepared for the big day with Aileen? Will Yugi and Anzu make a cameo? Keep reading to find out. // ... // Warning: Even though it skips over the rape scene in the flashback, this is still the most disturbing chapter to date. Read with caution.)) ... (Yami Yugi's POV) Yami trained endlessly for the big day: the day when he and Aileen would run a marathon. She would sometimes train with him, but today she wasn't home. So he decided to train alone. He was already athletic; though it didn't show much on his small build. His muscles had tightened, but they still looked as small as before. After his long jogging run, he came back to the game shop. He went upstairs, opened the door to his room, plopped down on his bed, and was out like a light. He'd tired himself out more than expected. ... ((Flashback: Ancient Egypt)) He was standing at the court of a rival empire. He and his priests were negotiating a trade deal. The king of the rival empire looked a lot like his father. He wore white, purple, and gold, possibly to flaunt his wealth. Everyone knew how hard purple was to come by. His eyes were comforting, but selfish. There was something in his eyes that unnerved the young pharaoh, yet they beckoned him to come closer. "My king," said his right hand man. "Are you ready to negotiate with Egypt? I'm certain they have a lot to offer us." He turned to Yami and gave him a polite smile. It was like one of those fake smiles those snobbish older women who secretly dislike you and think they're superior to you would give. Yami smiled back, doing his best to be polite, even though he saw right through the right hand man's game. "I'm sure we do. Seto, show them the finest Egyptian linens we have." Priest Seto took a box from one of his camels, and showed the other king what was inside. The king held them up. "Yes, these are very nice. I'll take them." In return, he offered gold. ... At the end of their trades, the other king smiled at Yami. It was a trustworthy smile, unlike the fake one from the right hand man. Yami shook hands with him. "You've been a fair and noble trade partner," the young pharaoh said. He bowed his head respectfully. The man was at least twice as old as he was. Just because his right hand man didn't respect young people didn't mean he had to prove him right in his assumptions. "As are you," the other king agreed. "Just like your father was." "I'm sure he'd be glad to hear that, were he still alive," Yami said, trying not to feel sad at being reminded. The other king noticed how sad the boy looked. There was a glint in the man's eye that Yami didn't notice. "Come to my room later on," the man said. "The rest of the gold I have for you is there." Yami had noticed he'd been ripped off for the tiniest bit of gold, but he didn't think to mention it. Most everything else was in order. Still, if the man wanted to be fair... The pharaoh had an odd feeling, but he didn't think much of it. Sometimes feelings could deceive you. So he entered the man's room. There was no gold in sight, only a canopy bed with a wooden chest by the foot of it. The man was nowhere in sight either. Suddenly, Yami felt a hand over his mouth. The person who'd grabbed him roughly pushed him against the wall, bruising his bare arms which had shot out to protect his chest. "What is the meaning of this?" the 15 year old cried, removing the hand on his mouth. It was a great offense to touch the pharaoh (if you weren't his family or his wife). It was a greater offense to hurt the pharaoh in any way. He glared at the figure. It was the king of the rival empire. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?" If the man wasn't a fellow king, he'd be beaten until his whole body was sore. The man smirked. "I know exactly what I'm doing. I've wanted to claim that pretty body of yours for a long time, and now that your father's dead, he can't protect you." "What?!" Yami cried. He struggled in vain. "Release me!" The other man glared down at him hatefully. It was rude of the young pharaoh to refuse a gift. He slammed him into the wall again and again. Soon there were bruises all over the boy's arms. Yami grew more frightened. "Stop it!" he cried. He tried to escape, but the man grabbed his arm. He pulled the boy onto his bed. Yami tried fighting back, but his face was slapped. The man held him down and took some rope from below the bed. He tied Yami's arms to his bedpost. "No! Please stop!" Yami had no idea what was happening, but it was nothing good. This was the sort of thing a kidnapper would do. He scanned his mind for ideas. His legs were still free, and he could kick the man off the bed. But he feared the repurcussions that might occur from that. So he just lay still, fighting the ropes that bound his hands. A bead of sweat ran down his face. "You had it coming. Always so proud and noble and innocent. It's about time someone taught you about the real world," the other king said. He lifted the boy's robes, exposing half his body. Then he moved his hand to the boy's face. He caressed the pharaoh's cheek and sniffed his hair. "Hmmm... you smell sooooo good..." The pharaoh shuddered. He felt more weak and helpless than ever before. "Let me go, please..." The man didn't listen. He continued touching him inappropriately, moving his hands down gradually. "No! Noooo! Please...!" Then he started doing something truly horrible. Outside the room, an agonized scream was heard. The servant girls were the only ones who heard, but they knew better than to ask questions. ... After the king was done with him, he pulled away from the body below him, rolling onto the other side of the bed. From his bedside table, he opened a drawer, and pulled out a gold ring. He crawled over to the young pharaoh and slipped it onto the boy's pinky finger. It was a perfect fit. He'd kept his promise. That was the gold he'd promised to give him. He always kept a promise. He watched the boy lie still on the bed, eyes empty and staring straight ahead. He was still so pretty, the king thought. So he moved closer, and placed a kiss on the boy's lips. He was met with no resistance, and no reciprocation. The boy simply lay there, like the undead, only blinking occasionally. The sweat looked gorgeous on his hazel skin, the man thought. Smirking with triumph, the man simply moved close to his ear and whispered, "All hail the mighty King of Egypt." The mocking words were the final straw, and the young pharaoh broke. New tears streaked down his face, wetting the spots the old tear stains had left. ... Yami returned to his priests. His eyes were still empty, and he looked drained of most of his life force. "So did you get the gold?" Seto asked. He nodded. Slipping the ring off his finger, Yami deposited it in the box with the rest of the gold with such carelessness - almost disgust - you'd think he was handling garbage. "So what happened," Seto said. "You don't look happy." The way the pharaoh spoke was unlike any way he'd spoken before. His words were empty sounding rather than confident and proud. "Let's just go back to Egypt." Seto was so surprised by his words that he had no response to them. He simply nodded. "Good idea." Back in Egypt, in the pharaoh's palace, Yami asked to speak to Seto alone. The priest met him in his room. Slowly, Yami explained everything that had happened. Seto was shocked, but not surprised. The way Yami was acting could only be explained by something horrible like this. "And you see," he finished, "because of what happened, I cannot rule over Egypt anymore. That man stripped me of my nobility. So, I must pass on the station of pharaoh to you." Seto was taken aback. "You can't be serious!" At seeing that he was, Seto looked him dead in the eye. "Pharaoh, please understand this. Sometimes horrible things happen to good people. But you can't just give up! Just because he tainted your body doesn't mean he tainted your heart and soul! You're still noble on the inside." He looked at him with love. "I'm sure of it. You're still the leader Egypt needs!" The pharaoh wasn't expecting him to say that, and was touched to say the least. His eyes shone with love for the other man. "Oh, Seto..." he hugged him. "Thank you. Thank you so much..." More tears leaked from his eyes; tears of joy this time. Regardless of what had happened, he knew Seto was right. He would keep ruling over Egypt like he had before. And his friend would be there to help him heal.  

[pandoraimperatrix]

Four Names for Love

Gotham | BatCat | BabyFic | Multi-chapter | Read on AO3

Summary: When Bruce parted ways with Gotham he was leaving behind more than he thought. Meanwhile Selina is trying to find a way to herself after being abandoned again and on top of that she finds out she was left with a lot more than a heartbreak.

——————————————————————————

Finally. This is a baby fic after all :D

Philia part I

(philia)

I love you at three a.m. when for the thousandth time I thank a god I do not believe in for giving you life.

—           one, two, three, four - a.j. (via ibuzoo)

 Selina wanted to leave as soon as she was able to stand up without having to hold herself against the wall, but Barbara wasn’t having it. She was talking and talking, and since she had asked about her period Selina’s head started pounding and she just wanted Barbara to shut the fuck up.

Then she had something trusted into her hands. She looked at the thin carbon box confused.

‘Just pee in it, it’s easy.’

‘Why do you even have this?’

‘I manage a women-only employee bar, these things are handy.’

She gave Barbara a suspicious look.

‘Why do you even care?’

‘Because I care about you.’ Barbara said in a sickening sweet tone.

Selina wanted to throw up again.

‘Yeah, right.’

Barbara dropped the act and rolled her eyes.

‘Just do it.’

Selina pondered her options. In one hand she was scared out of her life to do that test, on the other it wasn’t like she could get another test easily and she had to know. A pregnancy wasn’t like something she could ignore and it would go away. Barbara was crazy and she surely had some creepy agenda driving her to be so nice, but she had never really harmed Selina before.

‘Fine.’

Barbara smiled in that maniac way of hers but didn’t move.

‘Get out.’ Demanded Selina annoyed.

‘Oh! Right!’

She left the bathroom, but by her voice Selina knew she was just on the other side of the door.

‘So?’

‘I’m not done, yet.’

‘Think of waterfalls, rain, dripping faucets…’

‘Shut up, Barbara.’

‘Ohhh, moody aren’t we?’

Selina opened the door eventually, she held the stick like it was about to bite her.

‘What does it say?’ Barbara asked biting her nail, Selina was deeply disturbed by how she was so into the whole thing.

‘I don’t know. What two sticks mean?’

Barbara’s creepy smile widened.

‘Congratulations!’

Selina felt the headache become ten times worse, and suddenly she felt like the air disappeared, she couldn’t breathe.

‘No. No. This is not happening. This thing is wrong.’

‘Selina… We can do another one if you like, but you said you haven’t been having your period and is tired and nauseous all the time, that’s pregnancy for you.’

Selina didn’t say anything for a while, she just looked at the positive pregnancy test in her shaking hand.

‘No…but…. No. It. No.’

‘Selina, calm down. You are turning blue.’ She put her free hand on Selina’s shoulder. ‘Jesus, you are cold.’

Selina took a few shaky breaths, closed her eyes trying to make the whole room stop turning but it seems to make things worse. She grabbed the fabric of her shirt covering her chest, she felt like her bones were too tight, crushing her.

‘You must think I’m so stupid.’ She finally managed in a broken voice and slid down against the wall.

Barbara sighed, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, still holding her baby.

‘Yeah, I do. But considering how I got pregnant, I have no right to judge. And you could’ve got a lot worse baby daddy than a billionaire boy that love you to bits.’

‘It’s not his.’ She tried pathetically. Barbara rolled her eyes.

‘Oh please, Selina. I saw the both of you eating each other faces far too many times to believe in that.’

Selina didn’t say a thing for a while, she just couldn’t believe that was happening. From all the twisted fucked up things that ever happened to her, teen pregnancy? Really? What was her? An after school special?

‘He left.’ Selina mumbled.

‘What?’

‘He left, Barbara, and it was bad enough without… this.’

‘Left? To where?’

Selina seriously had never been more annoyed at Barbara in her life.

‘I don’t know. He just left and all I got was this stupid letter.’ She said angrily.

‘Well, not all you got.’ Barbara said a trace of laugh in her voice. Selina gave her a nasty look. Barbara didn’t seen to care. She took a weird pleasure of pushing other people’s buttons. ‘His butler must know where he is, Selina. Don’t worry. I’m really disappointed on him for leaving you in this hell hole and going to have fun elsewhere. But men are like that, darling.’

And said that she got up cooing to her baby and left Selina alone.

 ‘Where is he?!’

Alfred didn’t seem to be fazed at all by her sudden appearance or demanding tone.

‘Good afternoon to you too, Miss Kyle.’

Selina had to work hard to stop the urge to use her bullwhip on the pompous prick.

‘Where. Is. He?’

‘Not here, Miss Kyle.’ He didn’t even look away from him book.

Selina marched towards him, took the book from his hands and threw the damn thing against the wall.

‘Well, that was really impolite.’ He said, impassive.

‘Impolite? You must think I’m a joke, don’t you? Just tell me where the fuck he is!’

Alfred finally stood up but Selina didn’t retreat, ignoring how he was towering over her, she just looked up defiantly.

‘You will watch your tone, young lady. And no, I do not think you are a joke. I think you are a sad story, Miss Kyle. A cautionary tale. I, for a fact, do not know where Master Bruce is, and even if I did, I would respect his wishes to not be found by the likes of you. Heaven knows how long I prayed for the end this… Infatuation. I have never understood the appeal.’

Selina never felt the urge to slap someone so strong before. But she didn’t. She laughed instead. A mirthless bitter laugh.

‘I knew it. I knew it. You rich people are all the same. You never change. Even after all this years and all this crap we went through. You just think we are all garbage because we didn’t go the same stuck up parties or know how to use properly all the twenty-seven forks you use to eat a single oyster. You use people than throw them away and you don’t feel guilty. You don’t feel anything. You know what? It doesn’t matter anymore. Fuck you. And fuck Bruce too.’

She left before he could say anything else.

  ——————————————————————————

Well… We all know Selina’s and Alfred’s relationship in Gotham is a bit… You know. To be fair I really don’t like Gotham’s Alfred. I think he gives a working class vibe that doesn’t match the character at all. And before someone accuses me of classism, I *am* working class lmao Very much so. Slum born. But Alfred shouldn’t be. I always thought him as a male Violet Crawley. Even more snobbish than Mr. Carson. And Gotham’s Alfred feels like a Call The Midwife character. This fic is character bashing free though, I don’t do that.

I’m taking a slightly different path from my script here, we should already have the first timeskip, this story has two, because I’ll not write a lot about Selina’s pregnancy, not much happens there. We still we have the ten years timeskip too. But I think the next chapter will be the last in this period, I think. Well. Till next time. Stay safe and send me your thoughts.

[fuck-customers]

This morning (5/21) I was talking to my boyfriend about retail (we met at work) and how some things have changed since I left the store three years ago.

For some background context: we both were employed at a store known as "The Barn" (he still works there, and basically knows almost everything). At the time of my employment, I worked in the cafe as well as on the floor/service desk/front register.

Here are some gems from my time of working in the cafe, in no particular order:

- During Christmastime, an elderly lady came into the store and walked up to the cafe - ad in hand - asking f we had a Galaxy Deer coffee maker, to which I informed her that no, we are not part of the Galaxy Deer franchise, we are only licensed to sell some of their products to make drinks therefore we do not sell their coffee makers. She huffed, and rolled her eyes at me. She had walked through the store, past a sign clearly labelled as "The Barn Cafe, serving Galaxy Deer products" and still thought, "This must be a Galaxy Deer!" (This was not uncommon, and I literally have so many stories of fully grown adults throwing tantrums because they couldn't use their Galaxy Deer app or use their card).

- I was screamed at - literally screamed at - because we ran out of large cups and a lady wanted a large cappuccino. We were going to offer her two mediums for the same price but she wasn't having it and my other coworkers had to defend me as I was getting the brunt of this woman's insufferable tirade about how awful I was - all because of not having a large cup. 

- Our manager was a piece of human garbage and had perhaps one functioning brain cell - if that. There was a time when she and the other cafe worker (our "cafe lead") were literally standing by the espresso bar making samples for THEMSELVES (not for guests) and I had to work around them as I tried to get customer's orders done. When I tried to politely say she should move, she gave me an attitude and scoffed at me. She also could not make drinks to save her life. She was so slow and rude to customers that it physically pained me to watch her on the espresso/cold bar. It should be noted that I lost my cool with her during the holiday season because she was being a gigantic bitch and worsening my already poor mental state. 

- A guy wanted to buy a mug that was sold in box and use it for coffee. I told him I wasn't sure if that was possible, because I had never been trained on this scenario, so he scoffed at me, "What are you? New?" To which I stopped being polite and retorted with, "Actually I've been here for a little over six months, sir, and I don't want to lose my job." After getting the green light from management, I made him his coffee (he wanted decaf, so I had to brew a new pot) and I heavily debated sliding the cup over the counter so that it would fall to the ground "by accident".

- Getting man-splained over a macchiato. 

- There were two of us on for a busy weekend and I was stuck on both hot and cold bar. This meant I was working double time to get out cold and hot drinks as fast as I could. I had to make sugar free mocha syrup on the fly, run back and forth between the espresso machine and the frappucino station, all the while being stared at by customers waiting for their drink. This one lady, however, did not like the fact she had to wait, so she started to complain. She storms up to my coworker, who's on the register, and demands a refund because she had ordered three lattes and they were taking too long to make. The ironic thing, however, was just as she began to complain, I had put the caps on her drinks. I hear her complaining, and something in me snapped - to this day I still am shocked I wasn't fired - but I walk over with her drinks and forcefully set them down on the counter. The interaction went something along these lines:

Her: I want a refund.

Me: Here are your drinks, m'am.

Her: I waited too long, I want a refund.

Me, voice dripping with the tonality of "not today, satan": You're not getting a refund. Here are your drinks. Have a LOVELY day, m'am.

Some nicer interactions:

- An older, Italian gentleman sang to me in Italian because he asked for my name and I told him it was spelled "the Italian way".

- An older snobbish man who was my least favorite customer became a little nicer once I stopped letting his snarky attitude bother me and started to react to him in a kindly fashion.

- Two Eastern European ladies who always ordered tea, a bake case item, and gave us a dollar each as a tip (even though we technically weren't allowed to have a tip jar). They were so sweet and I wanted to adopt them as my grannies. 

- The guy who I made a "breve latte" for that ended up loving it (he saw me later on in the store, and was raving about how good it was, which made me feel good because it was the first time I had ever made one of those and wasn't sure if I did it correctly).

- Every customer who sneaked a tip to us because they thought corporate should give us a tip jar.

- A customer who decided to pay for everyone's order in line.

I have a lot more, but these are the ones I can remember.

Overall, I'm glad I worked as a barista because it gave me a deeper respect and understanding of those who work at Galaxy Deer or an independent shop. I try to be as polite as possible and tip when I can because for every rude customer, an equally nice one is what kept me going through the rough times.

[a380flightdeck]

First Class, Low Class, No Class: The Passenger Hall of Shame.

I’M OLD ENOUGH to remember when people dressed up to fly. I remember my dad putting on a tie before we left for the airport. And that was as recently as the early 1980s.

One of the reasons, though, that people once took flying so seriously, is that so few of them had the means to partake in it. Not all that long ago, only a fraction of the population could afford to fly on a regular basis. Flying today is far cheaper than it used to be. As a result, almost everybody does it.

And as the demographics have changed, so have the levels of behavior. This we’d expect. With nearly four million people flying every day of the week, across every strata of culture and class the world over, standards of decorum are going to fall. That’s fine, and I don’t want to sound snobbish about it. Maintaining simple dignity doesn’t require anything too formal. I have no problem, for example, with people wearing shorts and sandals onto a plane.

But there comes a point, and what I do have a problem with, is the idea that otherwise reasonable protocols of civility, manners and courtesy cease to apply when you’re at an airport or on an airplane.

I’ve never been privy to a full-blown “air rage” incident, but I’ve witnessed countless instances of shameful behavior: passengers cursing at airline staff; stealing from the liquor carts; leaving soiled diapers in seat pockets; etc., etc. Why, for example, do so many airline passengers find it acceptable to throw their garbage and food all over the cabin floor, then mash it into the carpeting with their feet? You don’t do this in a restaurant. Why is it okay on an airplane? It tends to be small-scale stuff — rudeness and a lack of elementary courtesy — rather than anything violent or overtly hostile, but that doesn’t excuse it.

Here is just some of what I’ve witnessed over the past several months…

I am at the airport in Dubai one early morning, waiting to catch an Emirates flight to Boston. I’m sitting in the boarding lounge when I hear a strange noise coming from behind me. Snip, snip snip, click, click, click. What is that?

I turn around, and what do I see? The guy directly behind me — a young guy in his twenties — is sitting cross-legged in his chair. Both of this feet are naked, and he is clipping his toenails. With every snip and click he splits away another crescent of toenail, which he drops into a growing pile next to his left knee.

Would you take off your socks and start clipping your toenails in a movie theater? In the waiting room at your dentist? Most people would feel uneasy doing it in the woods, never mind at an airport boarding lounge in front of three-hundred people. And while I don’t want to watch, I feel that I have to. Because I need to know what he’s going to do with that big, disgusting pile of trimmings once our flight begins to board. Is he going to collect them up and carry them to the trash? Or will he brush them onto the floor?

What do you think he does?

On another occasion I am at Kennedy Airport, in terminal four, down near the Virgin America gates. A woman and her young daughter are sitting on a bench-seat right along the edge of the corridor. The daughter is four, maybe five years old, and she’s holding a tall plastic cup brimming with round, colored candies. They’re marble-shaped candies, possibly peanut M&Ms. All at once, with no warning, the girl takes the cup and flings the entire thing onto the floor. It’s an impressive spectacle, I have to say, as hundreds of tiny orbs go clattering across the carpet, coming to rest in a great fan-shaped display of color. People turn and stare. And what does the woman do?

She stands up, takes the girl by the hand, and the two of them walk silently away, leaving the entire mess — even the plastic cup — sitting there for some unfortunate janitorial worker to sweep up.

Meanwhile, people are kicked off planes all the time for acting, and even dressing, obnoxiously. In Boston recently, jetBlue denied boarding to a young woman because they felt her shorts were too revealing. Apparently, though, a t-shirt emblazoned with the words FUCK LOVE in giant block letters is within the boundaries of decency?

I’m not a prude. Nonetheless I’m dying to understand when and how this sort of thing become acceptable. And I’m imagining this same attire in a different context. In the bleachers at a baseball game, for instance. Would that be okay? Would the guy be asked to leave? Wouldn’t he be harassed by parents who’d brought their kids along? There are plenty of little kids at airports, so why is it different here? And which is more troubling, the fact that he’s being accommodated, or the fact that somebody rude enough to put on a shirt like that exists in the first place?

I’m reminded of a shirt that was all the rage a few years ago in Asia. It was a sleeveless tee bearing the grainy image of the model Hedi Klum. She was topless, biting her lip and sticking her middle finger at the viewer. After six days in Thailand I must have seen five hundred tourists — all of them women, whatever that means — wearing these distasteful and hostile things.

Next we have Ms. Stinkytoes, luxuriating in her Emirates first class suite. She shows us that boorishness these days isn’t merely for the louts in steerage. Are these the same people who buy elephant ivory and rhinoceros horns? And the privacy of her suite is no excuse (couldn’t she at least have closed the doors?). Maybe I’m overreacting to this one, but how is this any more appropriate that resting one’s bare and splayed toes on a restaurant table? This is still, for all intents and purposes, a public place, and somebody else is going to be occupying that cubicle a few hours from now. And for crying out loud, they give you socks and slippers!

What is it? Is it the stress? Is it the contempt people harbor for the airlines? Whatever the causes, flying has a way of bringing out the worst in people.