#acrylic house signs

[gender-trash]

so i complain a lot about low build quality of modern durable goods, but i do think there's a lot of freedom in having durable goods that (while they meet or exceed a minimum level of functionality) you aren't tempted to Keep Nice.

i don't care if my cat sharpens her claws on the couch because it's an ikea couch i got for free off a friend who was moving away. i don't care if my car gets scratched because it's already dinged up and it doesn't make it any less drivable. i don't care if my desk chair upholstery gets stained; it was cheap and who gives a shit if my chair is grungy. in many cases i actively disprefer the Nice version of the thing (like, say, a fancy expensive car) because it's emotionally a lot harder to blow off incidental damage.

this is also a thing that's really nice about DIYing/thrift flipping furniture and shit: i don't care that much if i scratch up the finish on my desk because -- well, it's a desk. who cares if a desk is scratched?? but also, i built the damn thing, so i can just sand it and refinish it with the exact same varnish. i could reupholster the various cat-scratched furniture, if for some reason i wanted to do that. i CAN, in fact, Fix Him.

i grew up in a house with a bunch of Nice Furniture, including (most frustratingly) antiques where you absolutely could not leave anything wet on them ever. a couple times, in the course of lighting birthday candles, the kitchen table accidentally got match-scorched, and my mom STILL tisks over those burn marks every time she remembers they exist. and i have to say, constantly Being Careful of the Furniture did and still does drive me up the wall. it's exhausting. like -- you don't have to spend mental energy on that!! you can refinish the dang table! you can, idk, lasercut some clear acrylic sheets to put on top of the antique dresser set! you can also decide to just not care about your stuff displaying the ordinary signs of wear and tear from being lived with, instead of trying to make a home a furniture showplace. every time i look at the scorch marks on my parents' kitchen table, i remember eating birthday cake.

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio DPxDC Nobody Knows Au Pt 3

Parts 1 and 2

They both fall silent and stare. 

That's an answer to one of many questions they've been asking themselves for years, isn't it?

Their best friend disappeared, and it wasn't abduction or murder. It was an escape.

“You guys don't have contact with Jack and Maddie, do you?”

Tucker swears there's a record scratch in his brain.

Sam gapes. “You mean your parents?”

Danny smiles, small, grim and humorless. “Jack and Maddie.”

Jesus Christ.

Sam glances over at Tucker and they exchange a look. Tucker knows they've been feeling a shared guilt for a long time, feeling like they didn't do enough. They had suspicions about something fucked going on in Danny's home life since the beginning of freshman year, but they never blew the whistle about it.

Rationally they know it wasn't their responsibility. All of Amity had suspicions - someone should have called CPS, and it shouldn't have been a couple of kids. A goddamn adult should have stepped up.

It doesn't keep either of them from feeling like they failed their childhood best friend.

“Considering I've spent the last four years suspecting they killed you and chucked your body into the portal to hide it? Hell fucking no, Danny,” Sam asserts.

The set of Danny's shoulders relaxes significantly. “Good,” he breathes. “Good. Please keep it that way.”

“What the fuck was going on in that house, man?” Tucker asks, a little sick to his stomach. He knows right away he shouldn't have asked.

Danny's expression shutters into something polite and pleasant to hide discomfort, and he immediately starts ‘casually’ gathering his papers and computer into his bag.

“Listen, I'm really happy to see you guys - seriously. I really should get going though, I-”

Sam reaches out and snatches him by the scruff of his shirt before he can even stand up all the way, yanking him back down into his chair.

His dumbfounded expression makes Tucker snort a laugh, so familiar and puppy-like. Danny is still all big blue eyes and nearly visible question marks when taken off guard. Tucker missed that face.

“You're not going anywhere until we get your phone number,” Sam argues, not a hint of wiggle room in her face or tone. “We'll get lunch or something, all three of us. Go to the mall. We're living in the same city, you know I'll hunt you down.”

When Danny hesitates, her face and tone melt into something softer.

“Please, Danny. We miss you.”

Danny melts a little, sighing and smiling. “...yeah. Yeah, I missed you too. I've missed you guys so much.”

“So?” Sam prompts, holding her hand out.

Danny huffs a little laughing breath and fishes around in his pocket, unlocking his phone and plopping it into her hand. 

His nails are black and green. Gradient.

Tucker doesn't know much about nails, but he knows there's a difference when Sam paints them and when she splurges for acrylics.

“Are those professionally done?” he asks, bemused. Danny had never expressed an interest in that kind of thing as a kid. It's kind of cool to see signs that he's, like…growing into himself.

Danny shrugs, and it feels good to see that he doesn't even seem to consider Tucker might give a shit in a bad way.

“I'm on my hot girl shit,” he deadpans, and Sam nearly drops his phone with the force of her startled laugh.

Tucker snorts. “Oh, well about time.”

“Hey!” Danny protests, offense fake and eyes dancing. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing! You had a glow up is all.”

Danny snickers and kicks him gently under the table.

“Okay, dick.”

It's like they never parted at all for a moment.

“Here, Mr. Hot Girl Shit,” Sam says, handing Danny his phone back. “I put our numbers in and sent a text in a group chat so you can't forget to reach out. I'm serious, Danny. We missed you, don't disappear. It was scary enough the first time.”

Danny grimaces, at least looking genuinely apologetic. “I know. I'm sorry. I really do need to get going today, though. I've got an appointment.”

“What kind of appointment?” Tucker asks.

The grin Danny gives him is mischievous and has a few teeth sharper than he remembers there being. 

He breezes past them and out the door with an impish response of, “Hide and seek with furries.”

Part 4

Masterpost

[estesphantom]

Ex-Husband John Price |

John Price headcanon

reader is she/her & works as a medic. John Price might be a little (insanely obsessed) love sick over his silly ex wife. He’s Joe Goldberg.

The two of you didn’t divorce because you fell out of love, or someone cheated, or any true “marital” problems many couples would divorce for. In fact, divorcing him killed you as it did him.

Being in the military is a job that is very demanding and although you knew of that when you married, you didn’t realize how much of an effect it had on the both of you. Though it was wrong, you felt like you could have more from a man that didn’t have a job that required more attention than your marriage did to him. John told you he understood your decision and respected you. He took weeks to sign the papers, though, with an excuse of being too busy.

The truth was that he let you divorce him because he knew you wouldn’t find a man that was better molded for you than he was. He was right. Of course he was.

“Mm, and how are you holding up, love?” he inquires while you fill up a pot of coffee in the break room. His eyes peered up at yours while you took a seat across from him on the couch. You two were making small talk and it had been only a few weeks after your divorce.

John let you keep the house, the dog, everything you would ask for. You felt guilty and pleaded with him to take something, anything he hadn’t already taken (which was only his clothes and documentations) but he refused. He wanted to prove he still respected and loved you after the divorce.

“Just fine. And you?” your delicate fingers rubbed your temples as you tried to free the stress from the first half of your shift. He stared at your badge which still had ‘DR. PRICE’ printed in bold black with a picture of your kind face above it.

“Good for you,” he smiles at you kindly, the same warm, handsome smile he’d given you a hundred times before and the first smile he’d given you when pronounced husband and wife. He didn’t answer the second part of your question.

Your attempts of finding a man that had enough time for you, or even any ounce of attraction towards you was rough. It seemed as if any man at work you would approach would dodge your attempts at flirting like the plague.

Men in the military were like starved lions; desperate, needy, and impulsive. You were a very attractive, young woman, which checked all of the boxes for the dogs working in the military. Hell, before you and the Captain became a thing, you had to bring pepper spray every day to make sure none of the men tried anything.

The absence of attention made you think. Then, you thought of your ex husband. The influence he has. His love that withstood signing the divorce papers and moving out of his home for your comfort and happiness.

You remembered the way he would make you promise you would never replace him. You remembered his vow to always look out for you and to never let anything become between you two. You remembered sleeping over at his apartment for the first time and finding a collection of your belongings that you thought went missing over the past few months. You remembered fiddling with the dusty mascara, the acrylic nail that had broken off during a date, the lipstick, the panties. You loved John because of how much he’d noticed of you and how much he loved you.

So, when your shifts were over and you were scrambling to find him, you felt mistaken for the divorce in the first place. Your feet stepped quickly as you called his name. His broad shoulders turned to face you and his facial expression immediately softened. Your heart slowed.

“Can you come home with me? There’s a- my air conditioning doesn’t really work anymore,” your face blushed up immediately as you came up with a dumb excuse on the spot. You wanted to slap yourself square in the face.

John chuckled. He was amused. He crossed his arms and cocked his head slightly to the side, staying quiet for a few seconds while contemplating his next move. He uncrossed his arms and grabbed his keys out of his pocket, using his free hand to pull your smaller hand into his. He saw right through you.

“Okay, love. It’ll cost you, though,” his thumb rubbed against yours as if it were always home for him. You hummed in response as he led you out of the base’s office to the car park where you would approach his car.

As you climbed into the car, you realized there truly wasn’t anyone out there who was meant for you the way John Price was.

His love wasn’t obsession, it was gratitude.

Right?

[darkbluekies]

Jerry and forced intimacy, please? If darling will be very don't-touch-me person and, well, a black cat. How's that?

Stay like this

Mafia!female!yandere OC x reader

Summary: Jerry has had a hard day and want to cuddle up on the couch, much to your displeasure.

Warnings: threats, mentions of pain, overthinking, forced cuddling, Stockholm syndrome in the end

Word count: 1.1k

Jerry groans as she enters the house. You freeze on the couch, holding your trembling hands between your knees. You can hear Jerry drag her feet behind her over to you and fall down on the couch. She's lying down with her arms and legs spread, looking tired.

"Come here, baby", she says and yawns. "I've had a shit day. Make it better."

"I don't want to", you say.

Jerry raises an eyebrow. You feel equally surprised. How dare you say no?

"I didn't ask", Jerry reminds you.

"You know I don't like to be touched", you remind her back through gritted teeth.

Jerry rolls her eyes. "And I thought I was the black cat. Y/N, let me make things clear: you're my property, I do as I please with you. And now I want to hold you because my day has been like a stick of nails shoved up my ass."

You give her a glare. Jerry sighs heavily and pulls herself up in a sitting position, grabs your arm and pulls you into her chest. You try to push her away, but find it difficult and surprising to find her so … strong. She locks her arms around you, trapping you against her chest.

"Now stay like this", Jerry says.

A manipulated part of you tells you that you should be honored to be treated like this. Jerry hates everyone and doesn't want anyone to touch her. You should consider yourself lucky that she goes to great lengths to keep your body smashed against hers. Yet, you don't. You don't like how violent she is, you don't like how selfish she is or how passive aggressive she can be. You understand why people don't like her … but you also understand why they respect her. Your hands were shaking when she entered the house — just one of the many signs your body tells you how terrified you are of her.

She runs her acrylic nails through your hair. You should feel honored … but you can only feel like a prisoner.

"You're perfect", Jerry murmurs. "And you're all mine."

You shut your eyes tightly. Jerry never shows any kind of kindness towards anyone. You should feel honored that she compliments you, but you don't feel any gratitude.

"Why do you even like me?" you whisper against her breast. "You hate everyone."

"I don't fucking know", Jerry sighs and strokes your hair. "There's something about you that nags me and it refuses to make me forget you. There's an annoying feeling inside me that just wants you. If I told you how I want you, you'd be terrified."

"Are you going to hurt me?"

Jerry raises an eyebrow. "Do you want to be hurt?"

"N-No."

"Then I won't. Not unless I have to, but you're obedient enough. You don't need to be physically punished. Mentally is enough." She notices the scared hint in your eyes. "Y/N, don't think so much. I'm not going to hurt you."

She leans forward and places a sweet kiss on your forehead. The kiss is too sweet to be Jerry. It only makes you feel smaller. You don’t want to be the only one that gets to experience the little sweetness Jerry has deep inside her stone cold heart. It will only make your escape from her harder. She won’t let you go easily after being vulnerable with you. Being vulnerable with you only tells you how obsessed she is with you. You feel how tears enter your eyes when imagining all the things she’ll do to you if you tried to run away. Would she be worse with you than with her enemies?

“Baby boy/girl, what’s the matter?” she asks. “Why are you crying?”

“Nothing”, you whisper quickly and hide your face down into her black shirt.

She cups your cheeks and lifts up your face to meet hers. Jerry tilts her head.

“‘Nothing’ is not an answer to my question”, she says calmly, but you can hear a warning tingle in her voice. “Why don’t you answer me properly?”

“I … I was thinking too much again”, you admit.

“About?”

You hesitate. Jerry wipes away a tear from your cheek with her thumb.

“What you’d … do to me if i left”, you mumble and look away.

Jerry’s brown — almost black — eyes stare into your soul.

“If you left?” she repeats in shock and chuckles lowly. “But baby, you’re not going anywhere, how could you ever leave? Do you really think I’ll allow that?” She runs her hand through your hair. “Do you really think I’m going to let you run away from me, hm?”

“No …”, you whisper. “That’s why I’m … thinking.”

Jerry grabs your jaw to keep your face turned to her. You’re unable to look her in the eyes.

“I’m starting to think you are a little masochist after all”, she says. “Why are you torturing yourself with scenarios that haven’t happened? And that won’t happen if you just stay? There aren’t a lot of rules to follow, you know. It’s not that hard.”

“Would you be worse to me than to your enemies if I actually tried?”

“I’d like to think that I would, but that nagging feeling inside of me won’t let me. I feel mushy when I’m with you, my pet, and I hate it. I just want you in my arms. It doesn’t feel like you’re safe anywhere else. But it makes it really fucking hard to protect you when you don’t even want me to touch you.”

You don’t answer. Jerry’s hand is massaging your scalp, causing pleasant shivers to run down your spine. For once, you feel a bit calmer. You know that Jerry loves you … somewhere deep inside of her in that stone cold heart of hers and that this defensive facade is a mechanism to survive in her horrible world. Slowly, you relax your body.

“Just stay with me and everything will be fine”, Jerry says. “Okay, baby? You won’t get hurt.”

“O-Okay.”

"Try to get some rest now."

You nod and find yourself drifting off to sleep on her chest. Silently hating yourself for feeling more and more familiar with her touch. Jerry smiles down at you, relaxing her body the second she knows you're asleep. She plays with your hair and kisses your forehead. A smile plays on her lips. She really does love you, but you’ll never get to see just how much.

[1eoness]

uhmmmm actor leon kennedy?? mayvbe

cw: dom! ooc leon kennedy x sub afab reader | no specific leon | he's kinda weird here idk | creampie | praise | mild degradation | wee bit of size kink idk

[to clarify, i am a minor (17). anyone <17 and anyone >17 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni}

a/n bc i love rambling : so uhmmm when i was writing this there was an electric explosion right outside of our house so the power's out in our neighborhood and im back in this damn cafe LMAOOO

a/n : (update lol)i wrote this like monthssss ago (wtf this sucks).. so im back nd im gonna post this bc why the fuck not it's still rllyyyy bad and a lot of word repeating but yeah just felt like posting lol

synopsis : actor!leon kennedy has been in the gig too long to deal with nepotistic, wide-eyed girls like you. yet much to his exasperation, you're just too much of a greenhorn in the showbiz world.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -you can fucking skip this part idc- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you've only ever heard his name maybe once or twice in one of the magazines in your mother's bar. you must've read it over and over again, having to see his name and face habitually to endure the excruciating hours of working behind the bar with your phone in a locker. you weren't particularly enthusiastic about films or Hollywood or WASP families, either. but it was better than nothing.

it started like this. you were wiping the cedarwood slab that dewed with beer, when the woman who sat across you (having drunk maybe 4 pints) reached over with her veiny, grisly hands. the acrylics tapped at your temples when she held your awkward face.

said "woman" was your aunt who just got back from monaco. and she's been urging you to work with Pierce. whoever that was.

you were well content with the life you had right now. but sometimes—often in front of your vanity— you did find yourself fantasizing about the 'big city'. you caught yourself in a cliche dream but the idea was invigorating, the mere machinations of those opportunities dangled above your eyes like meat on a stick.

"..oh, but.. i don't think it's practical, you know?" you excused as you dismissed the billowing thoughts in your head. even if you had the physical assets that aligned with the director's vision, it would still feel wrong. some people go to literal schools for this stuff, don't they?

but she remained persistent. and after a low, lighthearted sigh, she continued her persuasion. "..y/n, you're a diamond in the rough." your aunt neared you, holding your hands together in a friendly hold. "..let me make it a reality for you."

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

so. were you a natural? hell no.

you're wearing a costume that you can't even touch without the stylists getting mad at you. you got harped on and poked at for so long you were starting to get a migraine. the studio refused to let up on you, jabbing at you passive aggressively until you curled like a millipede. honestly, you were more pissed than sad!

and leon? god, he was a total fucking hottie. and he was totally cold.

the director announced an hour break to everyone just before they'd jump straight to the next scene. you remained sat on one of the props, hands clasped on your lap, contemplating the choices you've made over for the 7th time today. you were fidgeting like you were anxious. you forgot how breaks felt. the luxury was there, five star hotels, velvet cushions and robes and office gossip and dinners with imported wine and cheese. but it felt like hell. working with leon was the only thing that made it even ten percent worth everything, but even he doesn't seem to like you. why was everyone so mean? fucking fair enough, you were beginning to hate this place so much you might ask for a cigarette yourself.

the petrichor mellowed through the film set, nibbling her skin with chill. nights in raccoon are cold, you needed to keep mind of that in case you decide to open your front door without a jacket. the alleyways were diffused by vapor lighting and LED signs. you also had another superficial thought. what do people on set usually do when they're on break?

you whip your head up, legs swinging slightly as you scanned the area. most of them are either adjusting equipment, going through script, or smoking one. you turned your head to your right without expecting much.

you saw leon leaning against the wall, next to the director, sharing smoke (you're beginning to see this is a trend) and cheap laughs. you were mildly surprised, not realizing they were both adjacent behind you, and you felt goosebumps rise when your eyes landed on leon. you quickly looked forward again. you didn't want to move away.

you missed leon's subtle smirk to himself when his gaze flicked to the crown of your hair. he took a puff of his stick, still sounding like he was talking to the man beside him. his eyes didn't leave you and the way you sat there like you were going to spend the remainder of your break spacing out.

leon's voice was nonchalant behind you. to you, it was faint chatter. "...life will chew you up and spit you back out before too long, but that's..."

...

was he talking to you?

leon wasn't too nice on you while you guys were on set, but he wasn't so directly mean either—emphasis on directly.

he's earned word of you from both your aunt and the director, obviously. he doesn't look like the type, but sometimes he has a knack for gossip. that's just how the nature of stardom works, doesn't it? name number #1 did this that tto name number #2, someone divorced someone, someone slept with someone—and the whole world goes aflame. he could care less about where you came from, why you're really here or who you were connected to. but something about you was thought-provoking. contrasting you, he worked for where he was. you just sat there looking pretty and snagged the role right away. maybe that sort of incompetency and oblivious audacity made you stand out from the rest. he found it pathetically attractive. you're an artless girl.

your head swiveled over your shoulder, looking behind and up at leon.

leon's eyes met your gaze halfway. "aww. is this your first big time acting gig, baby? no need to be nervous, it'll be alright." a tinge of mockery sweetened the husk of his voice. the director, who you now know is 'pierce', snickered at leon's subtle sarcasm.

the director tells him he's going to announce everyone to continue, since he wanted the rain to 'sex things up'. heaven's dew tapped lightly on the concrete as the director mounted his back off the vandalized walls, leaving you and leon alone in the same space. oh god.

for a minute you sat there quietly, letting the tension sink in upon the director leaving. you tentatively take another glance at leon. he wasn't looking at you anymore, and his hands were out his pockets as he swipes the little box open. soft brown tufts wisped when he shook his head to get the rain off his hair.

you got off the table. you walked to leon. you'd say your feet were moving on its own.

his head shifts to your direction. his bangs falling over his face. a gust of wind breezes by, and he smells deep, musky. like cardamom. cedarwood.

" if anyone's givin' you trouble on set..." leon looks down as he slips a cigarette in his mouth, rummaging in his pocket for his lighter. "you come to leon... 'kay?"

his hush voice was honeyed whiskey when it wooed at you, applying simple emphasis to his two-syllable name. leon, leon, how that name would sound in bed. there's a slight tease to his eyes, before diverting his attention to his cigarette, casting an orange glow in his palms when he flicks the lighter on with his thumb. his presence was prodding, inviting you with every inch of his body language. this man was blazing and you were a fucking moth.

he likes the way you're looking at him right now. your eyes are batting at every subtle sculpt of him. you can look away but he knows you're still thinking about him.

such a sweet thing, this one.

he decides to be 'friendlier', pitying the fact that you're obviously having a hard time socializing with the crew. "what's your favorite movie, doll?"

"mm.. i liked kill bill. and pulp fiction." you converse casually.

a name rolls off his tongue. "quentin tarantino." he nodded in what seemed like approval, watching a puddle.

you blink. "what?"

he glances at you and he doesn't reply, before leaving that wall all to yourself.

...

leon's tongue trickles with the taste of vouvray. you were art in the shadows, the honey lighting of the dimmed lamp doing nothing to illuminate leon's hotel room. your lips are glossed with his saliva, evidence of your breath went after he made out with you.

you're barely holding it, all while his big hands purchased at your flesh, drinking in the way you straddled his boner. the subtle friction where you were able to feel how big he really is intimidated you, blooming excited butterflies, your stomach fluttering at each soft push of your hips. you watched with your palms flat on his stomach, the soaked fabric of your panties collecting and staining all over his boxers as you stifled a needy whimper. "y'need it now, baby? oh, don't go soft on me now... i'll take care of you, just tell me."

his pretty baby, sitting on him and too shy to plead from the big shot. leon's hands languidly travel your skin, palms massaging up your sides. "...i-i wan' it.. i want you.. please.." you murmured hazily, leaning down to give him a soft kiss to compensate for the bashfulness that rode over your speech.

"is that right, sweetheart?" he bit his lip gently at the teasing sight, loving the way you sounded needier by the minute. "oh, baby, go on. it's all yours, yeah?.." he crooned, patting your thigh gently.

"easy, baby.. oh, there you go.. atta girl.." he groans prettily when he's muttering you through it, eyes delectably gazing at the way you sink on his length. it was cute to him seeing you not knowing what to do with your hands. but he watches you settle them on his built torso, and he could only look at you in adoration. god, he was so fucking thick and you were so highly strung..

leon's touch stroke at your knees. you aren't moving, and he looks almost amused seeing you try to render just how he feels inside you. "i can't.." he heard you murmur before you giggled quietly, to which made him chuckle as well. but the flustered laughter dies down. the actor groans, feeling your fluttering grip around his cock, making it his instinct to hold onto your waist.

it didn't take long before you started getting loud. your arousal lathered up and everytime you pump down a creamy squelch. "mhmmm... uhh, keep going.." leon whispers, and his eyes stared at where your bodies met. you could hear a soft whimper from him—vocally begging your sweet little self to go faster.

leon watches you trying to change the speed. poor girl, you looked like you were already starting to ragdoll. you resisted stopping, unable to with the way he'd rub into the right spots. leon took your small, depleted whine as a sign for him to initiate. he was just letting you have your fun. just until you'd get a bit frustrated. by this time he'd already lit another cigarette and the stick perches between his lips.

"..tiring, ain't it, sweetheart?" leon coos, feigning pity for you, fingers clutched at your hips like its his favorite thing to hold. he started to thrust up into your sopping little cunt, pulling a weak mewl out of you. there might be nothing he loves more than watching your supple frame as it bounces atop him.

"mmm.. aww 's okay, baby.. leon's got you.. mhm, that's right." he responds to every quaint sob you make. his stamina was stubborn as he gradually shifted his pace.

"nice and quiet, baby... don't want th't fucker 'pierce hearin' you..." leon almost feels like a sick fuck, pretty lips grinning slightly as he moans. "god, fuuuuck... mmmhh... uh- f-fuck!" leon almost whines before giving you a harsh thrust, as if he were desperately trying to make you his cocksleeve. if you were going to take it so well then you shouldn't be surprised at how he's gonna force you down, and keep you in place while he sluts you out.

you're murmuring something, and the words fall like blabber to his ears.

leon smiles endearingly, as if he isn't fucking you stupid right now. "mhhh.. wanna cum? you wanna cum?" leon asks as he tries to make sense of what you're saying.

and you gulp, gasping through your watering voice. "w-wanna cumm.. give it t'me-"

he tries not to laugh.

"c'mon, let me make you cum... i'll make it feel good.." leon murmurs before you could feel him pound into you, a whine dripping like syrup from your voice. your body barely keeps up. you feel tight and it's making leon's head tilt back a bit. "oh, there you go, sweetheart... atta girl.." he mumbles hazily as his mind starts to get messy.

"like that? uhuh? mmmh?~" leon moans back almost mockingly at each pleasured whine that spilled your voice. you're mindlessly pawing at whatever you can reach on leon, turning him on with your helplessness. "takin' me nice and well-..." he growls as he starts to piston up into your cunt brutally. you look cuter when you're stuffed with leon's thickness, when you're crying on what you begged for.

"leon, c-cumming" you lolled out in a low moan, head leaning slightly. "i'm gonna cum.."

he responds with a groan, hips rocking upward as he feels you clenching around him. "go on, baby, give it to me. 'm right here,"

he has you shuddering when you cum, the vibrating sensation jolting to your brain as it reeled in pleasure. it takes a few shallow thrusts to keep you satisfied but it's hard to tell when you're already sniffling and twitching on top of him. you wipe your face as you draw a few breaths. leon reaches to warmly take your wrist, thumb pressing onto your skin, feeling your heartbeat.

he watches you gather your bearings before generously caressing your hair once. you help yourself off leon's shaft and a heavy-sounding breathe escapes him in wonder.

leon whispers something once he leans into you and chucks his half-dead cigarette into the ashtray. "c'mere.." his one arm tucked around your back and eventually the other to your leg as he makes you lie down. he treats you with some sort of delicacy, at least until he doesn't.

leon tugs you closer with his arm hooked loosely under your knee, pulling your princess body in for a few intimate kisses to calm the both of you. he tastes mildly bitter. you hummed in his mouth when your lips lock together, eyes fluttering while you felt weak. leon starts muttering as he asks if anything hurts, if you're okay, if you're gonna stay here for the night. for a moment he doesn't say anything and he's just gazing down at you languorously while he breathes. he kisses one of your eyelids before he shifts.

maybe leon liked you better like this, on your fours, limping against the satin bedding as you cried and panted in a way that seemed like suffocation. his thick fingers tug at your hair once, your only teary view being the couch and the TV that dimly mirrored a reflection of you being held down be leon as he rammed into your dribbling hole tenderly. your legs occasionally kicking up against him, hitting him with your ankles as you found it hard to not writhe. he watches you peek over your shoulder, the expression in your eyes instigating struggle. "what?" leon tugs at your hair again, fighting the toothy smile from his face as he fucked you brainless. "didn't think i could make a whore out of you?"

leon lets go of your hair to rut into you with urgency. the bed was starting to jut out small squeaks from leon's rhythm. he leans closer, chewing on his lip as his eyes narrowed in pleasure. a soft growl emanates from behind you, skin on skin, breathing near your ear. the rough hands that were once planted near yours on the mattress start to grip your forearms like handles. he watches your back contort.

you jolt up as leon yielded you to his body, impaling you with his girth in a routinely fashion, urging you to cry louder. "oh, baby.." he whimpers lowly as he starts to feel himself lose control again.

"fuck, i can't.." you wail out, head hanging low briefly. he notices.

"ready to pass out, honey?" he pants softly.

you weakly shook your head.

"good girl." leon bit his bottom lip, whispering out a needy 'fuck' as he slammed into you while pulling you back. he felt satisfied by the way you yelped. his brows furrow, expression tainted with a lustful and crude color as he almost began to drool. brown strands started to get in the way of his vision. his breath is suddenly hitched, water lining his eyes as his voice turned up a note. he hisses, head tilting to the side. "fuck, fuck,-" his gruff words start to match with his thrusts. "take it- all-, yes, baby, that's a good- fucking- mnnnghh..."

it takes leon a while to recover, moaning lowly and riding his orgasm, watching you spasm beneath him while he spills inside you without much restraint. he tiredly fucks his load in you before he gives out and huffs a spent whine. he catches a glimpse of it. you're leaking white.

you're breathless, fatigued, sweating, and almost thoughtless as you catch some oxygen back in your lungs. you could feel yourself pulsating around his twitching shaft as waves of pleasure traveled your burning body. his arms loosen of their sensual hold before they catch you, pulling your weary form down to spoon with you momentarily. you can feel each other inhaling. exhaling.

a phone rang. it wasn't yours, you could tell by the ringtone. your eyes flit to see pierce's name on a default iphone screen. "i need a drink." leon exhales roughly, leaning over to kiss the shell of your ear before he reached for the bedside table to grab for his phone. he slipped out of the sheets with his phone on his ear.

[circe69]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧

As you arrived in the rainy Manchester, England, you found yourself to be in a slight predicament. With a drenched suitcase in one hand and a wasted train ticket in the other, you wander into a somewhat shady bed and breakfast, with Simon Riley's grandfather as the owner, and Simon Riley himself being your neighbor.

“leap year”, is one of my favorite movies, so definitely inspired this!

🗝cw: fem!reader, catcalling, 🗝 genre: fluffy fluff 🗝 a/n: part 2?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"Please, there has to be some misunderstanding, I bought this ticket months in advance. It's pouring outside! Is there nothing you can do-"

"Look, I'm sorry ma'am but the ticket seems to be invalid, I can't let you on without a credible QR code."

You groan in frustration, pressing your acrylic-clad fingers to your forehead and pinching the bridge of your nose. The short man standing in the booth spoke again, "Manchester is only about a mile away, maybe you could-"

"You expect me, a woman who's alone, to walk in this weather?" Your tone was getting ruder by the minute, and your face was heating up. How stupid could he be?

He tried to apologize and say he was only trying to make suggestions, but you walked away in the middle of his sentence, furious at the ignorance some men have these days. As you made your way to the front door of the train station, preparing yourself to go out, you hoped that if you did die or get kidnapped, the short man would read about in the paper and feel like he allowed it to happen.

Your pink umbrella stood out among the black ones, but you didn't have time to care. It barely worked anyway, so eventually you decided to put away the cheap plastic. Your shoes were getting soaked, and so were your clothes under the thin fabric coating your suitcase. Walking past the bench outside the station, a few men whistled in your direction. "Hey, nice bra," one of them said, and as you looked down, you realized your white sweater was completely see-through from the rain, your black lace bra basically yelling for people to stare at it. You took a deep breath, and without even looking back to see his toothless, disgusting smile, you kept walking.

These parts of Manchester were old and rustic, cobblestone lining the pavement in uneven slabs and vines taking over sides of buildings. If you weren't so drenched and freezing right now, you might've enjoyed the sight. You could tell good people lived here, people who liked to live their lives the way they wanted to. Your mood was almost lifted until you stepped in a huge pothole, your entire foot being submerged in mud. "UGH!" You scream, this was the worst beginning to any trip, and the rain wasn't helping at all. Tears were welling in your eye, but they ceased when you looked up to see a quaint inn,

"Riley's Pub House and Inn", a big sign said at the entrance, some letters, not all, being lit up by red LED's. You sniffled back the tears in your sinuses and walked up to the building. When you got to the front door, you read another sign that gave you a little bit of hope, something that told you maybe this was a sign that this was a good call, "Grandson, Simon Riley, returns home from the military!" You smiled at the words, the terrible hearts and smiley faces drawn around it in crayon and marker. All the sudden, the thunder boomed and scared you, making you squeal and drop your suitcase on the wet pavement.

Okay, the universe obviously wants me to stop being so sappy, it's making me too vulnerable, you thought as you picked up the luggage and opened the wooden door. A loud creak declared your welcome, drawing everyone's attention in the pub to look at you in all your glory. A wet, messy, insane-looking woman walking into a pub.

You smiled awkwardly at the lack of talking once you entered, the clearing of throats and scooting of chairs filling the silence occasionally. "Hello," you said quietly, your hoarse voice making you realize you hadn't talked in hours. No one said it back, but instead continued talking and drinking, and as the crazy slowly filled the pub once more, you walked up to the tall, older men behind the counter. He wore a dirty apron, one with splotches of messy markers just like the sign outside, and was cleaning mugs while smoking a cigarette. He spoke first, thankfully, "What can I do for ya?" He tried to not stare at your undergarments from underneath your shirt, and you admired the sentiment, but at this point, you didn't care.

"I'm in need of a room for the night," you said, leaning against the counter with an elbow, slightly pulling back as you realized how sticky it was. "Oh wow, a room? No one's asked for one of those in a while," the man said before having a laughing fit, inducing one for every man around him as well. "Whew, I'm just kidding, sweetheart, they're not that bad. Oi, Simon!" He yelled, and you flinched as you felt your eardrum recoil. The man turned around to get a ring of keys, and from behind you, you heard a gruff, deep voice, "Right here, pops." You turned around facing him, a tall muscular man with dirty blonde hair and dark brown eyes. His face was perfectly chiseled, his jawline even more so, and the veins running down his arms made you want to slide up his sleeve to see where they led. You swallowed back the thoughts, and looked up at the man in front of you.

Simon made eye contact with you and held it as he reached behind you to grab the keys from the old man. "I'll show you to it," Simon said, his voice being unnaturally and sickeningly seductive. How many steroids did he have to pump himself with to sound like that, to look like that? You didn't so much as even respond before he picked up your suitcase and started walking towards the hallway. Simon led you up a flight of spiral stairs, and it took every ounce of courage in your body to speak up, "So, is he your dad?"

He inhaled quickly, "Grandfather." Oh right, the military man. "Oh so you're the Simon Riley who just came back from the military!" You said loudly as he stopped in front of a room door and set down your luggage to retrieve the keys. "That's me," he made eye contact once again and you could've stared for hours. You hated to admit it, but his eyes were so unbelievably dark, almost sad but still beautiful.

Once your door opened after a few jiggles of the key, he put a hand out in front, signaling you to go in first. You nodded your head and walked into what seemed more like a closet than anything. Your face must've expressed it too, and Simon must've noticed. "Not good enough, doll?" You shook your head feverishly, "No! No, it's- it's great. Homey." He furrowed his eyebrows and barely smiled, "Homey?" He repeated, confused.

You laughed slightly, "Yeah, it's homey. Y' know, like, comfortable." Simon nodded and slid his hands into his pockets. "It's bloody disgusting is what it is, I keep telling that old geezer to fix this place up," He spoke quietly as he ran his finger along a side table, blowing the dust off. "Well, I'm staying across the hall while I'm here anyways, you better not snore, bug."

Your face turned red at the comment, but you managed to look away just in time, "I don't snore." Simon opened the door to walk out when he said, "Sure ya don't. What do I get if I get awoken by your unexpected but terrible sleep apnea?"

"Well then, you can bang on my door and tell me to shut up."

Simon smiled, teeth and all, "What's your name?" He whispered, leaning against the doorway.

"Y/N." You whispered back, breath hitching at the low tones of your voices.

"Well, Y/N, would you open the door if I banged on it?" He said your name like it was a secret, like it was something he'd keep forever. You couldn't get over how good it sounded coming out of his mouth.

"Maybe, maybe not."

He turned around and said from over his shoulder before opening the door to his room, "Breakfast is at 8. Be there." Before you could respond, his door shut, shaking some of the mini shampoos and conditioners on the counter. Through the closed door, you could hear Simon yell, "And make sure to dry your bra!" You gasped, covering your breasts by folding your arms over. Smiling to yourself, you wondered if he'd do what he said; if he'd ever bang on the door, and if you'd open it.

[penguinsravioli]

Crush Confessions

❝⁺ ₊ ✦⋆ ｡ ˚chapter 4❝⁺ ₊ ✦⋆ ｡ ˚ Anthony Vaughn x Reader

The party was a bit of a crash, but I guess that’s fine. Unfortunately for me I couldn’t find my ride. Ca$h was gone. 

And mysteriously, so was Dusty’s dads car. I sigh, him and this eshay bullshit. He’s told me that he feels like he’s “entitled” to continue to hangout with them. Even if Chook is an asshole, he’s basically one root income. Undoubtedly so though, a reckless and illegal root. I’m sat on the stairs of Dusty’s front porch, fiddling with my long skirt, swaying it back n’ forth. “I love this goth mother look you have going for you” I look toward Missy. I let out a chuckle, “Thanks Miss, hot, per usual.”

She twirls her hair jokingly, making the both of us giggle a bit. “How are you holding up?” Here it goes, the same question about how it’s been at home since the map. “Umm not the best, but it’s alright, I got my trap phone” I pull out the little burner device. “(name)! Look at you being rebellious!” 

“Sweetheart I’ve been pretty rebellious forever. Don’t know how you didn’t see the signs” I shower myself in self praise whilst Missy laughs with her hand over her mouth. “You got a ride home?”  “Yeah” I take back my phone, lying though my teeth so she doesn’t go out of her way for me. “Plus I need the air anyways” I stretch my back in the concrete stairwell. Missy begins to stand, “Alright then (nickname), call me if you need anything alright?” I nod. “Of course” I can tell by the look on her face that she doesn’t believe me. I know I won’t call her if I need anything. I barely call Ca$h when I need a ride to school. I always end up walking, despite the distance.

I play with my acrylics with a solemn look. Seriously though how am I gonna get home. My house is anything but close. 

“Hey Ladybug” I shout at Ant after he spooks me. “That wasn’t funny!” I whine a bit at his everlasting delight from my fear. “Calm down babes. Just me.” He puts his hands up, slowly lowering them when I roll my eyes at the nonsense. Ant has always looked at me with such a sincerity that I could never find in anyone else. It’s like if I were to disappear he’d notice. It always makes my heart drop but it’s like a familiar nice feeling that I cant describe well if you asked.

So the minute my irises centered to make eye contact with him, and I saw Ant Instantly searching. The feeling came back.

I turn away again, staring in front of me. “I haven’t heard you call me Ladybug since Kindergarten” 

“Thought it should make a comeback,” he slings an arm around my waist pulling me closer towards his body. “Plus it suits you” I chuckle. “How so?”

“Because you’re unique like a ladybug”

“You sure it’s not because you wanted us to be matching like how we used to?”  He smiles cheekily “No, but little me was a genius” I laugh at him and then check the time. It’s getting real late. I doubt my parents are home currently but I should definitely start to head back. “If you don’t mind me asking— can you walk me home” I sneakily shimmy from his grip and rise to my feet in a swift motion. Ants eyes follow me as I stand. “How could I say no?” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“You’re getting really bold these days” I lock his hand with mine, enjoying the warmth he emits.

“I guess you give me a boost in ego” he replies quick whilst we walk. We’ve walked for 30 minutes and have finally made it to my home, and  don’t want him to go.

“Can you stay with me a little longer?” He looks towards me. 

Literally why the fuck did I just say that.

 “Yeah of course. Anything you wan’t” ever since cemetery we’ve gotten even closer despite me trying to build a barrier between us again.

Which sounds odd, but me and him distanced ourselves and our friendship entirely because of the hookup. It had been our first time actually ever doing anything like that. I think that we both felt an insane amount of guilt in shame. We had a talk in middle about how we were gonna make “our parents proud”, for him it was because he was heavily religious in his younger years.  While for me, because my parents had been so controlling and scared me into a corner.  It was until that party that me and Ant had finally really pushed past our promise of attempting to be good children.

The awkwardness afterwards had been mostly conveyed on my part, it was only me that had avoided my feelings for him after holiday. So it’s not surprising that they spilt out after the police crashed cemetery.

—He took out his wallet and pulled out some cash. In hand I had the soda I was craving, while he chose not to get a drink. “Cheers” I ushered to the cashier as we left.  I laid my head on Ants shoulder as I opened my carbonated drink. “Thank you for paying, I forgot my wallet at home” 

“No dramas. You deserve it” I gulp down my drink before answering. “Deserve it for doing what?”

“I dunno, just being yourself.”

“That’s way sweet of you Babes” I nudge him softly. He grins, “Of course, I’m ripper, remember?”—

We snuck in through my unlocked window, my room wasn’t really big but it wasn’t really small either. It was just a bit cluttered because I liked collecting posters, figures, random objects like signs, etc. “Your room has improved since the last time I saw it”

“Thanks Ant” I begin to pick up a few clothes I had threw around while getting ready for the party. “m’course”. I put the clothes in a pile and begin to fold them in a quick manner so I don’t have to deal with them much later 

“I neeeed to go thrifting again sometime, all the thrift stores around here have been so dry though” 

I spark up conversation.

 “You go thrifting? I’ve never tried it” I gasp, “seriously?! You know how many cool graphic tees I find on a regular? They would suit you so well too” I stand up putting the clothes in their respective places. I turn, coming face to face with Anthony.

In shock I scoot back, but he pulls me forward. “Why can’t just take the hint already?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know that you know that I like you (name)”He pulled me in by my waist and held me tight, giving me a sense of security. “I don’t know how come you’ve been avoiding me, but it’s been driving me crazy trying to figure you out” 

I suck in a breath. In attempt I try to find the words to reply but they’re stuck in my throat. So I’m just stuck, staring into his desperate eyes like I’m brainless. “Ant, you know I do care for you and—

I hear a car pull up into the driveway. Immediate silence was met from the both of us. I look at the window and back at Ant. “Anthony I will not repeat myself, get under my bed, when they leave the room I need you to sneak out as fast as humanly possible” I whisper yell as I start to undress and put on my night clothes. He starts to slide underneath quickly, holding his breath as I get into bed and pretend that I wasn’t at a party just an hour prior. I quickly turn my beside lamp off and get underneath my covers.

I hear the keys to the front door jiggle and I whisper to Ant “…you be as still as possible” 

“..got it”

I hear their footsteps down the hall slowly inching to my doorway. Then my door swings open. 

“(name)?” I pretend I’m knocked out. I’m a great pretender. They shut the door once they don’t get a response. And walk upstairs to their room.

 I let out a large sigh. I get off my bed quietly and crouch down to look at Ant. “I’d start to leave now” he starts to climb from underneath my bed with a nod of agreement. “Before I do though”

He pulls me in and gives me a quick peck on the lips and winks at me, jumping out my window and landing as silent as possible. Avoiding the cameras just like we did previously. 

When he’s no longer within area I close my window. 

Holding my beating heart in absolute shock. “I dunno why I’m so struck over this when he literally fucked me” I giggle to myself, sneaking to the bathroom so I can do my skincare before bed.

[princessjojo-x]

LeoVenus ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆

💝 initially, he’ll act more like a house cat rather than a lion. he’ll analyse & observe his love interest with a straight face & detached vibe. he’ll leave her guessing & pinning after his affections. this can make her feel unwelcome & unwanted by him. however, once she’s won him over & he realises her worth, he’ll pounce & hunt her down. he’ll become more open, talkative & friendly.

💝 he’s not shy to make the first move bc he always approaches love with bravery & he wears his heart on his sleeve.

💝 it’s unlikely he’ll hide his partner as he prefers to love out loud. he wants a partner he is proud of & is proud of him in return.

💝 he has an inherent ability to radiate positive motivation, make others feel special & validate people’s point of view. the only time he doesn't fill someone with extraordinary support is when he realises that person is a potential competitor.

💝 he is very generous with his partner & he is the best gift giver amongst all the venus signs.

💝 he may cause arguments within rxship out of boredom bc he is drawn to drama & fireworks.

💝 he tends to hang on to dying rxships bc he is extremely loyal & forgives easily. all fixed venus signs stay in rxships that don’t serve them bc it gives them a sense of familiarity & security. they fear the idea of having to start over from scratch.

💝 you rarely see him have ugly days bc he’s so well kept.

💝 he loves himself first & won’t let you forget that. driven by the desire to be admired & adored, he can come across as snobby & is likely to prioritise his own needs over his partners, leading to an imbalance in the rxship.

💝 his bruised egos may lead to passive-aggressive behaviour & prolonged sulks at times as all leo placements have fragile egos (however leo venus is the most confident & leo moon is the most insecure).

💝 sexually, he is open to adventures & experiments as long as it doesn’t lead to a sense of humiliation.

Turn On’s:

💝 leo placements are known to have a lot of confidence, yet leo venuses tend to question their place in their partners lives a lot & need constant reassurance to feel sure of their partner’s love for them. he wants constant attention, obsession & expression of emotions from his partner. he even likes his partner to beg for his attention. he feels loved when being spoiled, praised & applauded so tell him you’re proud of them. he has a fundamental need for positive & supportive feedback. if it's negative or not supportive enough, he can inwardly feel unworthy. compliment him but only genuinely & at the right timing.

💝 he loves grand gestures & larger displays of love.

💝 he prefers to be the leader or in charge since he hates taking orders. but he needs a woman who is strong & assertive, not weak & caving in.

💝 he dates for a good time, not to be overly serious. he enjoys flirting & playing around. playing is very important to this placement so whenever you are together, wherever you are, whatever boring thing you are doing they will make it fun. promise him fun, adventure & laughter. he needs a partner who is the life of the party (outgoing, warm, happy, optimistic. honest caring).

💝 he enjoys chasing (playing cat & mouse) so ensure to be hard to get.

💝 he wants a partner who’s like a celebrity (popular, sociable, well respected, widely attracted, impressive, sought after, bold, confident, radiant, charismatic & proud). she is sure of herself, has strong values & high respect for those she’s closest to. she makes noise wherever she goes & rarely lets other people override her opinion.

💝 his ideal lover will have a fire sign sun, moon or asc.

💝 he wants a partner who is always overdressed in attention grabbing clothing bc he wants everyone staring at her! he likes anything shiny, bold, extra, unique, extraordinary, creative & fun; titties out, booty out, excessive makeup, XL acrylics, hoop earrings, leopard print, designer accessories, tacky clothing, etc. dress brightly in colours ruled by the sun (yellow, bronze & gold). he

💝 all fire venus’s want a passionate partner who encourages them to be confident & expressive, they want someone to be proud of them.

Turn Off’s:

💝 someone who is negative, selfish, patronising, unoriginal & domineering.

💝 never judge him for being generous or kind to you/others.

💝 don’t ever question or humiliate him in public.

💝 if you do something to try make him feel insecure in himself. (same for all fire venus)

💝 ghost him (this will HURT)

[owl-with-a-pen]

Parthas had a vibrancy about it that Kara had seen nowhere else. She’d detailed it in her article the first time she’d visited with Nia, but no words could really do the town justice. Community really meant something here, humans and aliens alike worked together to keep their town thriving. And it was thriving.

Nia had once told Kara that her mother had been the heart of the town. She’d planted the flowers that still bloomed each spring on every street, bursting out from pots beneath the windows of local cafes. She’d been commissioned to paint original works for a lot of the community venues and had even designed a mural that was now proudly displayed across the first building that greeted outsiders into the town’s borders.

Isabel really was the heart – a heart that continued to beat even now that she was gone. Her vitality was ingrained into the lives of every person who called Parthas home, but none more than the family she’d built that home for.

Kara had been visiting Parthas more than anywhere else over the last few months. Not to fulfil her duties as Supergirl, but rather the infinitely more important duties of Kara Zor-El, Maid of Honour Extraordinaire. She’d been busy booking venues, securing hotel rooms, ordering flowers plus catering - giving just about any regular wedding planner a run for their money - and in all that time, she hadn’t yet needed to return to Nia’s own childhood home.

That was, until now.

“Thanks for doing this with me, Kara,” Nia said as they made their way up the cobbled pathway towards the front porch.

It was her first coherent sentence since they’d reached the town border. Nia had spent most of the drive passed out against the passenger side window, a surly furrow to her brow.  Kara was willing to bet she hadn’t had a wink of sleep last night. After all, today’s trip wasn’t exactly something Nia had been looking forward to.

So, she tried to stay cheerful for them both. “Hey, of course.” She beamed, nudging Nia’s arm. “Alex didn’t bestow me with the title Best Maid of Honour Ever for nothing, you know.”

Nia did smile at that, although it couldn’t quite disguise the shadows beneath her eyes. She glanced up towards the house warily, her jaw set. “I’m just glad to have a buffer. Things have still been… weird between us, y’know?”

Kara winced sympathetically. “Is she here yet?”

Nia shrugged. “You tell me.”

Kara took that as her cue. She closed her eyes, opening her heightened senses as she listened out for any signs of life behind the varnished doorframe. She straightened almost immediately. “Well, there’s definitely a heartbeat in there. Your dad’s still out of town, right?”

“Suit and shoe shopping,” Nia said with a roll of her eyes. “I think he’s trying to get a wedding gift while he’s in the city, although he’s not really sure what a Coluan would want. I said waffle iron.”

Kara nodded seriously. “Brainy is getting pretty good with breakfast foods.”

“Right?”

Kara chuckled, catching herself when she noticed how intensely Nia was studying the door. She cleared her throat. “Ready?”

“For this? Never,” Nia muttered, grabbing for the doorhandle. “So here goes nothing.”

The house was just the same as Kara remembered, right down to the pleasant smell of vanilla mixed with acrylic paint that wafted down the hall. From the way Nia stiffened, Kara knew it wasn’t just her heightened senses picking it up.

Isabel’s paintings still decorated the walls, an intricately detailed doorway to her dreams in every direction they looked. Nia kept her eyes trained on the floor, sucking in a deep breath as she took her first step inside.

At the same time, a floorboard above them creaked and a shadow slunk over the banister, dipping swiftly towards them. They both looked up just as Maeve Nal appeared at the top of the stairs, a strained smile already etched in place.

At first, no one said a word.

Kara glanced awkwardly between the two sisters as they exchanged a long and wary look. Kara knew exactly what that kind of a look meant, she and Alex had shared it plenty of times themselves. Once, when they’d been teenagers, Kara had lost control of her heat vision during an argument with Eliza that had nearly burned the kitchen down. The following morning, she’d met Alex with the same expression Maeve was demonstrating now. An unspoken promise to try harder, to be on her best behaviour. No more outbursts.

But there had been- so many more - and so Kara understood the distrust in Nia’s eyes, that hesitancy to believe anything Maeve was selling her, no matter how much they both wanted it to be true.

When Nia remained silent, Maeve cleared her throat. “Nia, Kara, you’re early,” she said with forced cheer. “How was the journey?”

“It was fine,” Nia said quickly, an edge to her voice that made no room for small talk.

Maeve nodded anyway. “Good, that’s good. Do either of you want a drink, or--?”

“Can we just get started?” Nia interrupted, grabbing for the stair rail.

Maeve’s smile hardened into tight line. She pursed her lips, stepping away from the banister. “Of course. Come on up.”

Kara smiled politely as she passed Maeve on the landing. The last time they’d seen each other hadn’t exactly been under the best of circumstances. Not just that, but when they’d first met, Maeve had only known her as Kara Danvers, Nia’s work colleague and friend. Now, like the rest of the world, Maeve knew the truth.

That, right now, she was sharing a roof with Supergirl.

Not that Maeve seemed to care. Maybe she was used to superheroes with a family history as rich as Naltor’s, maybe she’d made the connection long ago - or maybe she was more focused on the well-being of her sister to pay it any thought. This was going to be a difficult experience for them both, Kara knew, and whether Nia admitted to it or not, there was a reason she’d wanted Maeve there with her today.

Nia took the lead down the hallway, walking a path she must have travelled a hundred times over the years, before stopping in front a doorway just across from her dad’s bedroom.

It was already open.

She waited for Kara to catch up from the corner of her eye, bracing herself, before heading through to the other side.

Kara followed her in, Maeve close behind. With all three of them in there, it should have felt crowded, but somehow the room was accommodating enough to fit everyone comfortably. Natural light flooded in from three large windows on the tallest part of the far wall, casting an inviting glow across the tan floorboards. A pink orchid was sat on the windowsill, petals fresh and flourishing in the sunlight.

An easel was set up in the centre of the room, an old canvas still hooked in place. The painting wasn’t finished, its meaning lost to time, but Kara couldn’t help but wonder.

Had this been Isabel’s final dream?

The room wasn’t just home to Isabel’s old artwork. Large antique wardrobes had been pushed against the wall, and boxes of old supplies gathered dust in a corner. The rest of the furniture had been hidden away beneath clean cotton sheets, as though they were already sharing the space with a handful of ghostly figures.

The studio kept parts of Isabel’s life in colour, at least, even if a few had been obscured along the way. Nia’s dad must have been looking after the room as best he could, and although nothing felt neglected, there were certain pieces of clutter that hadn’t been touched for a very long time.

“So,” Maeve said, leaning against the doorway. “Where do you want to start looking?”

Nia didn’t speak; her dark eyes worked over the room, flickering quickly from spot to spot. She didn’t marvel the place like when she’d first visited the Fortress - there was nothing new about it, not really. Kara knew that this was far from Nia’s first visit home since her mother’s passing. Last summer, she and Brainy had stayed in Parthas for three weeks after their engagement announcement, and Nia had since set aside a weekend every month to visit her dad. In all that time, though, Nia had admitted she’d never made it quite as far as her mother’s art studio. It was never locked, the door nearly always open, but she always found an excuse to avoid it.

Now, Kara watched as Nia marked out every item in the room like she was planning an itinerary. Finally, she bit her lip, heading over to the closest wardrobe before pulling it open.

The doors shuddered and groaned on old hinges, the smell of mothballs invading the air, but Nia didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she started to card her way through the heavy articles of clothing that hung inside. Some from decades prior, others more modern in shape and cut. On her right, Maeve opened the wardrobe stood nearest to the door, a host of pastel blues and ivory creams packed tightly on the other side.

Neither sister spoke a word to the other, and Kara suddenly felt that bit more of an invader on the whole ritual. Nia had wanted her there as both a peacekeeper and a friend, but her duty was a little blurred around the edges now that she was stood among Isabel’s old things. Kara decided to open one of the boxes on the floor that hadn’t been taped shut to occupy her time, rummaging inside half-heartedly as Nia continued her search.

She combed through her mom’s things carefully, pausing to squeeze or hold a piece at length when it sparked a fond memory. That was the only time she looked halfway comfortable with what she was doing. Kara felt her pain – aside from the data crystals stored in her pod, she hadn’t had anything left of her parents when she’d been sent away, believing them to be dead. If she had, she might have found the same bittersweet peace that was currently stirring Nia’s confliction.

Every so often, Maeve would offer up a possible clothing option from her closet, pulling a jacket or scarf from the hanger for Nia to see. Her wardrobe certainly boasted a colour scheme more fitting for their objective, but every time Nia shot her down. She was clearly looking for something specific, even if she didn’t know what it was she was searching for.  

Maeve stopped trying soon after her fifth failed attempt, and the room fell once again into a tense silence only disturbed by the screech of metal hangers on metal rails.

Just as Kara was planning to suggest they break for lunch, Nia gasped sharply from behind her. Kara turned immediately, tense and alert, only to find Nia stood with something clutched tightly to her chest.

It was a long piece of satin fabric with a pearly texture. Simple and without shape, like a scarf or shawl.

But there was nothing simple about the way that Nia was looking at it.

“Nia—what is it?” Maeve asked.

Nia gritted her teeth, shaking her head. “This was stupid,” she muttered. Her arms fell slack, dropping the satin to the ground. “I-I need some air.”

She stormed out before either of them could convince her otherwise, disappearing around the corner. Kara caught Maeve’s eye guardedly.

“I should—” Maeve began.

“No,” Kara said. “Let me.”

Maeve didn’t try to fight her on the subject. Her own eyes were glistening, unable to articulate her thanks.

Kara didn’t wait for one. She gave it five seconds before following out after Nia, locating her heartbeat a little too quickly. It was thudding like crazy, and the fact she’d only made it as far as the stairs only increased the volume of her grief.

“Nia?” Kara asked tentatively. When Nia half turned her head and she saw the tears that had begun streaking down her face, Kara’s chest tightened. “Hey, Nia, Nia, what is it?”

Nia only shook her head, wiping angrily at her cheeks with the edge of her palm. “I shouldn’t have done this, Kara. It was a dumb idea.”

“Nia,” Kara admonished, taking her arm. “It was a good idea. A wonderful one. Look, maybe we should take a break. We could go to that coffee place on the corner, the one you were talking about earlier?”

“No.” Nia rolled her shoulder out of Kara’s grasp, folding her arms. “I mean—no. I don’t need a break. I just—” She blinked quickly, clenching her teeth. “Just—I thought this’d be easier, that being here with all her stuff would make me feel closer to her, make everything clearer.” She snorted. “But it doesn’t and nothing here feels right.”

“It’s okay.”

“But it’s not!” Nia spun to face Kara fully, the tears of her frustration still glittering on her jaw. “I came here to find something of my mom’s that I could wear for my wedding day, so why can’t I, Kara? It’s all here, so why—”

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Kara instructed, taking Nia’s shoulders before she could back away. This time, Nia didn’t fight her. She stared, chest heaving, cheeks blotched with red, until finally Kara’s words began to sink in. Her lashes fluttered shut and she drew in one long and steady breath, easing it out through her teeth. Kara smiled. “I think you answered your own question. It is all here, there’s a lot to go through, and I don’t just mean your mom’s stuff.” She glanced meaningfully down the hall, giving Nia’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

Nia huffed out a laugh. “Maybe you’re right,” she muttered thickly, before rolling her eyes. “I know you’re right. I just…”

“Take it slow,” Kara said. “There’s no rush, Nia. However long it takes, we will find something. I refuse to leave until we do.”

Nia’s lips crumpled into a smile at her pseudo-serious remark and Kara grinned, winding an arm around her back. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Nia agreed, sniffing into her hand.

After drying her face off with some tissues from the bathroom, Kara guided Nia back to Isabel’s study and right into the expectant gaze of her big sister.

“Everything alright?” Maeve asked immediately, abandoning her search.

Nia nodded quickly, avoiding Maeve’s eyes. “Things just got a little overwhelming.”

“I noticed,” Maeve said with a wry smile. “You were looking at this, right?”

The second Maeve lifted up the offending satin piece, Nia faltered. She set her jaw, biting her lip. “Yeah. It’s just… I guess for a second it reminded me of what mom was wearing in the dream realm. When I—”

“Right,” Maeve said, cutting her off with a pained wince. “Of course. Well… maybe, maybe that’s a sign you should wear it? It’d go well with your dress, right?”

Nia frowned. “You haven’t even seen my dress.”

Maeve gave her a pointed look. “And whose fault is that?”

Nia cringed, taking the shawl from her sister’s hands. She weighed it for a moment, letting the satin slide across her palms before she gripped it more firmly. Eventually, she sighed. “Maybe for the afterparty,” she relented.

Kara caught the unconvinced glimmer in Maeve’s eye when she nodded, turning back towards the wardrobes. “We’ll keep looking.”

On the bright side, the tension that had once weighed the room down didn’t seem quite as present anymore. Instead, Isabel’s studio was flooded with easy chatter. Now, when Nia or Maeve found something that they liked, they’d pause to laugh, nudge the other, and recount the memory that came with it.

“Remember when mom thought this hat looked good?”

“Oh my god, her gardening gloves! I thought the neighbour’s dog stole them years ago!”

“She let me live in this sweater whenever I was sick.”

The stories continued like that for hours and soon, Kara found herself laughing along with them, pointing out atrocious style choices in the mix and begging for the stories behind them. She found she was learning a great deal more about Isabel Nal than she ever had when she’d been alive, and with every memory revisited, a little more of that tension chipped away until it felt like nothing but a bad dream.

The laughter came to an abrupt stop when Nia reached the last item in her mother’s closet. She glanced to Maeve, finding that her sister was in the exact same position. Two wardrobes full of stuff to blow through, and they hadn’t found a single thing she could use.

“Don’t look so down in the dumps,” Maeve said, patting her sister’s arm. “Who said it had to be clothes, anyway? What about…” She stopped in the middle of the room, hands on hips as she scoured the studio. Kara watched as she moved purposefully to the far wall, grabbing one of the larger sheets and tugging it free, revealing the furniture beneath.

Maeve’s face lit up. “Nia--- what about in here.”

Kara stood stunned, staring in amazement at Maeve’s discovery. It was an antique dressing table, an old varnished oak piece with an oval mirror fixed into the headboard and one long drawer fitted underneath.

Nia walked over to it, running her hand across the brass handle before carefully tugging it open. Kara peered over Nia’s shoulder, her eyes widening when she realised what rested inside.

“Oh Rao, they’re beautiful.”

The inside of the drawer was inlaid with a royal blue velvet. Pieces of jewellery had been set delicately into each individual indent. Rings, bracelets, necklaces, all made from bands of pure gold that glittered intermittently with flecks of blue.

“Oh wow, mom’s jewellery collection,” Maeve said from Nia’s other side. She turned to Kara, adding for her benefit: “She brought a lot of them with her from Naltor. Each piece is fitted with a Naltorian gemstone. They’re supposed to help focus the mind and body, offer clarity to those that are lost, and not just for the daughters gifted with the Sight.” She nudged Nia’s arm. “Mom would let us wear them out for special occasions sometimes.”

Nia’s smile was distant, caught far in the past. “I remember,” she said, picking her way across the collection. “College graduation, she told me to choose anything I wanted.” Her hand stilled suddenly, clenching her fingers together. She swallowed hard.

“What is it?” Kara asked.

A scornful smile twitched at Nia’s lips. She glanced up, catching Maeve’s eye through the vanity mirror's reflection. “Except… I never did. I wanted to, really, and it felt right, like I was drawn to these stones somehow. My powers hadn’t even manifested yet, but I was so afraid to pick one, because a part of me knew what it meant, even then.”

Maeve turned away guiltily, unable to match her sister’s glare. The room felt colder, suddenly, and Kara fought the urge to shudder. This wasn’t her fight, nor her place to say anything.  Whatever Maeve had to say, she’d be speaking it alone.

“Do you feel drawn to anything now?” Maeve asked, surprising them both with her certainty, as though she wasn’t being held under scrutiny at all.

Nia’s brow furrowed, her expression guarded. “What?”

“Well, do you?”

“I—” Nia shook her head, turning unwillingly back to the jewellery out on display. “I- I don’t know…”

Impulsively, Maeve took her sister’s hand, linking their fingers together. “Don’t think about it,” she scolded, rolling her eyes. “Feel, Nia. Draw from the stones’ clarity. Let that guide you.”

When Nia glanced Kara’s way, she tried to offer her an encouraging smile, even if she was a little lost on what was going on here. She’d seen Naltorian jewellery before, Maeve’s first peace offering to Nia had been the necklace Isabel had given her, but this was different. When Nia closed her eyes and her and Maeve’s joined hands drew a line across the velvet, a band of blue energy erupted from Nia’s bracelet, winding at first around their fingers before misting out into fine tendrils like digits of their own, probing the drawer’s interior as though they were living things.

Kara supposed they were. What was Nia’s energy if not an extension of herself? And if the stones offered clarity, then they were certainly helping with the search now. Nia’s face was set with expert focus, her eyes rolling calmly beneath her lids as she followed the path her powers were chasing. Until, eventually…

“Wait,” Nia said, her eyes snapping open. “What’s that?”

Kara wasn’t sure what Nia was seeing, that was until she picked at one of the rings at the corner of the set, pulling loose a small piece of ribbon that had been tucked beneath it.

“A pull tab?” Maeve asked.

Nia’s frown deepened as she tugged at the ribbon. With it, a whole section of the velvet inset came loose, lifting upward.

Underneath was a small hidden compartment, barely a few inches across. And inside that compartment…

“Oh my god,” Maeve said. “Is that…?”

Cushioned between four edges of black velvet was a brilliantly silver bridal comb with cobalt blue gemstones set into the fixings in a wave-like pattern.

“The Naltorian symbol for union,” Maeve explained, her face pale. “I can’t believe it was here this whole time.”

“It’s beautiful,” Kara murmured, unable to tear her eyes away from it. “Oh, Nia, it’s perfect.”

“It’s mom’s,” Nia said tightly, closing her eyes. “She- she wore it for her wedding, but we thought it was lost. I only ever saw it in pictures, never…” She stopped herself short, reaching out for the comb before lifting it carefully into her hands. It looked ancient and brand new at the same time. Nia handled it delicately, as though afraid it might snap under the slightest provocation.

Maeve’s eyes shimmered, an eager look, a hungry look. “There’s this old Naltorian tradition,” she said slowly, her voice wavering slightly, “the daughter that inherits the Sight is meant to wear something of her matriarchal line on her day of union. Her wedding day. Every family has something different, something personal, but that item will stay in a family for generations. This was mom’s, but it was also our grandmother’s and our great-grandmother before her. It could go back centuries. It does go back centuries.” She lifted her hand, as though to summon it. “Mom once told me it would only find a Dreamer when the time was right.”

Kara watched Maeve warily, monitoring her fascination.

“I didn’t even know that,” Nia muttered, just as Maeve’s hand coasted over it. Nia flinched, clenching her hand across the comb in reflex. She narrowed her eyes at her sister, weighing her intentions, before slowly unfurling her fingers.

Maeve looked at Nia curiously. When Nia nodded, she breathed in, taking the bridal comb from her sister’s hand. She studied it carefully, running her index finger over each individual gemstone, testing it for durability.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Maeve said as she continued to examine the comb. “About Naltor, about… tradition. Mom always thought she’d have more time and I… I didn’t want to share it. I wanted it to be a secret, just between the two of us.”

Nia bared her teeth at that, a bitter scowl as she made to turn away. Before she could, Maeve caught her arm, stilling her little sister so that she could run a hand along her back, winding her fingers into the edges of her long hair. Kara watched as Maeve bunched Nia’s locks together in her free hand, fashioning it into a low hanging ponytail. “Hold still.”

“Maeve,” Nia murmured, but she did as she was told, watching her big sister through the mirror as she slid the bridal comb into place, holding in a way that the wave of blue perfectly melded into the depths of her dark hair.

Maeve marvelled at her handiwork. “Well, look at that. It’s perfect on you.”

“Something borrowed,” Kara said, nodding towards Nia’s reflection. “Something blue.”

Nia choked out a watery laugh, rubbing at her eyes. She probed at the comb, grinning as she felt for it in her hair.

“I’m sorry I never told you,” Maeve said, her reflection fixed solemnly on her sister. “It was selfish and spiteful and never my secret to keep. From now on, I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”

“It sounds like a lot,” Nia admitted honestly. She folded her arms, tipping back into her sister’s ready embrace. “Maybe you can tell me more about it back in National City? I mean, I still need to show you my dress.”

Maeve’s eyes lit up in surprise. She grinned, nodding her head. “I’d like that.”

“And wait until the whole outfit’s put together,” Kara added excitedly. “Nia, you are going to make one breathtaking bride.”

“Thank you,” Nia mouthed, taking Kara’s hand.

Kara squeezed back gently. “Any time.”

In the end, she supposed her services as social buffer or peacekeeper hadn’t been all that necessary. Her duty as a friend, however? That was a full-time role.

One that she was more than happy to fulfil for the rest of her life.

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: She Knows (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

She Knows

series summary:  

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

A series of events led you to this exact moment where you and Joker's worst nightmare finally came true. She knew and you had no doubt she would tell the world.

author’s note:

WARNING CLIFFHANGER AHEAD (again)

Wow! Funny how I’m late but updating on a Wednesday of all days... anyhoo hope everyone had a great Fourth of July if you’re state side. Be petty and listen to She Knows by J. Cole. I had way too much fun adding in memes and pop culture references into this chapter! If you don’t understand one, do message me! I’d be more than happy to explain!

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster  @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!    

Last Chapter  |  Next Chapter 

A series of events led you to this exact moment.

You were in your apartment being accused of everything to Metropolis and back. The accuser happened to be your friend and she wasn't holding anything back.

"How long have you two been together? Y'all were on some secret bull___t that night at the club, I should've known then! Of all people why him, Y/n? Have you lost your mind?!"

The questions kept coming with no end in sight.

Florence was in full rage mode, pointing her coffin acrylics in your face, well on the verge of hysterics. Your audience wasn't too far behind. It was utter chaos in your dining room. Neo braved the fray and tried to tone Florence down but she smacked his hands away and whirled on him instead.

"I don't wanna hear s__t from you!"

"Flo baby—" He tried again until Florence dismissed him with a flip of her middle finger.

"F__k you! I'll deal with you later! Right now, Y/n gotta own up to her s__t! It's the least she can do!"

You glanced at the group of people gathered around your dinner table and sighed. This was beyond embarrassing but unfortunately it was happening all because Dick couldn't keep his mouth shut.

The culprit sat watching the drama unfold with a smug grin on his face. Times like this you hated him so much..

This was all his fault.

He backed you into a corner that you couldn't run from. You were tired of hiding and lying to everyone but that wasn't the point. It wasn't Dick's business to tell and now you were in the hot seat because he decided to meddle. They deserved to know the truth.. but how would you begin to clear up the air and set the facts straight?

"Florence.. please just calm down, and let me explain.."

The sad thing is; you never got the chance to.

Four days ago...

You looked up at Dick when he leaned his forearms on the counter. "So, Y/n? When do I get to meet Prince Charming?"

You were speechless. All you could do was blink as your brain did a full Windows shutdown. You felt like throwing up, curling up into a ball, and screaming out into the ether all at once.

In no way, shape, or form, was this happening. You shook your head and glanced down at the gossip magazine still in your hands. Did Joker know about all this? Was this the mysterious contents of the manila folder you found back at the beach house?

No, you were confident that J would've told you if he knew beforehand.

This was bad news for both you and his career. You were a popular author nationwide with a cult following on social media. You were set to frontline GothCon in a few months and promo ads and interviews about your most recent book were still circulating within the media. Despite all of the buzz, it had been a while since you were followed by paparazzi. You weren't the most exciting person, so you weren't entirely sure what piqued their interest.

Joker would be livid when he found out he was captured twice on camera.

He was still a wanted criminal, going almost three months strong in hiding. This could ruin everything between you and him. Right before it could officially start.

You were rereading the article when Dick spoke up. "Oh and I talked to your mom."

You almost snapped your neck with how fast you looked up. He mentioned it so casually as if he didn't already drop a bomb on your Monday. "You did what?"

"Y/n, please keep up with me here. I talked to Mom. You haven't called her in three weeks! That's tots not like you. Anyways, she and I got to scheming and get this–"

It concerned you with just how close Dick was to your parents. More on that later you suppose. Something told you this next bit wouldn't be good.

"They're coming to visit! I know, I know. It's very last minute, but your dad and I are gonna bbq and I already invited everyone else so you don't have to worry." He beamed from your island counter.

Such a shame you were anything but ecstatic.

Was this a prank of some sort? Did you hit your head over the weekend? Was this a fever dream? You lived in Gotham City for a year now and your parents never came to visit. Not because they didn't love you, more so, both parties involved had conflicting work schedules.

They couldn't have picked a better time to visit. This was all way too much for your brain to process.

"Dick, what? I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Run that back! You can't just make plans with my parents at my place and NOT TELL ME!" You shouted.

You watched him roll his crystal blue eyes, the same ones girls in this city, (and in Blüdhaven) swooned over. When you first met Dick you had to admit, his suave demeanor piqued your interest too.

You quickly got over that silly crush. His attitude was a piece of work. Speaking of... He smirked, "I just did."

As much as you loved Dick Grayson, you wanted to kill him right about now. You sat the magazine down and wiped your face with a groan.

"Hooooooooo my God! You're just like Cindy making it impossible for me to rain check things! When is this happening? Not like my input matters but it'll be nice to know when."

You just spent a relaxing four day vacation away from the city only to return and be forced into a family reunion. What joy.

Dick shrugged his shoulders, "This Thursday." He knew you would panic but the temper tantrum you were having was over the top.

Your neck rolled as your lashes fluttered in disbelief. He popped another snack into his mouth and waited for the inevitable outcry.

"Richard John Grayson!" There it was.

"Using my full name? Now that's sexy." He easily dodged the magazine you threw at his head.

It knocked something over on the counter behind him but neither of you paid it any attention. Dick glanced at you and cringed. He knew that face all too well. You were pissed.

"C'mon, Y/n. It's the perfect weather for a get-together; everyone is free, all you gotta do is unlock the door and look cute. Which wouldn't be too difficult." He added with another one of his boyish smiles.

Unfortunately, you were immune to his charms. This was not how you wanted to spend your week.

Your apartment was in desperate need of a deep clean, you knew Dick depleted your fridge, so that meant more grocery shopping, and quite honestly, you wanted to relax with Joker and spend time with him— not entertain guests!

But Dick went ahead and made plans for you. Without your permission! You had enough and started to chase him around the kitchen and into your living room.

The police officer had the upper hand and always stayed just out of your reach. His laughter floated up to the high ceilings and the husky sound only fueled your anger.

You got even more frustrated from going around in circles and stopped to catch your breath by leaning on the couch. Dick bounced on the balls of his feet, not winded in the slightest.

Since when were you so out of shape?

"Were you out of shape when you took J's dick a day ago?" The devil on your left shoulder asked out of the blue. "Cuz he folded us like a lawn chair." She cackled to herself.

"And we took it like a champ too!" The angel added after she materialized on your right shoulder.

In a rare gesture, she sided with her archnemesis. That's when you knew it was bad.

It was official. You were making a therapy appointment this week. Having full blown conversations with figments of your imagination really needed to stop. You refused to turn into the mentally ill.

Although you'd fit in perfectly within Gotham City and you doubted Joker would mind a looney girlfriend. Woah. Stop right there.

You had yet to tell J that you loved him! What business did you have putting labels on things? You physically shook those thoughts away. Back to the matter at hand.

"Who else.. did you.. invite?" You wheezed out in Dick's direction.

He faked to his left but you predicted his movements and almost got a hold of him if you didn't stumble on the decorative rug. Thankfully your colorful ottoman nearby, thus preventing a bad fall.

"Whatever do you mean Y/n?" He laughed after he knew you were okay.

He thought this was a game. Stupid agile former acrobat..

"You.. know what I mean Grayson!" You shouted as you dived over the dining table but Dick just vaulted over it with the grace of his family's name. You crumbled to the floor on the other side but quickly ran after him back into the kitchen, grumbling along the way.

"Annoying, extroverted, pain in my—"

"Oo! Bad Y/n! No swearing in the apartment!" Dick chided you.

You weren't going to catch him so you looked around for an equalizer.

Dick huffed when you hit him dead in the face with a roll of paper towels. He smacked them aside and raised his arms in surrender when he noticed you found something heavier to throw.

"S__t! Easy! Easy, Y/n! Okay, I'll explain! Just don't hurt my face!"

You lowered the bread box back down onto the counter with a heavy thud. It was solid wood, an heirloom from your mother's side of the family.

"THEN START ELABORATING GRAYSON!"

"Lower your voice. How about we take this conversation to the balcony?" He suggested.

You jutted your hip and crossed your arms, "Why? You scared?"

Dick chuckled to himself. You were a spitfire when you wanted to be. He didn't want to admit it aloud, but your aim was better than a quarterback.

"Yeah.. there's not much out there you can throw at me." He confessed.

The both of you shared a laugh and the tension between you both dissipated. "Alright, fine. I won't hurt that pretty face of yours. For now. Lead the way." You said.

He walked over to hold out his arm like a proper gentleman but not before tipping your chin up with his index finger. "You think I'm pretty, Y/n?"

"Mhm." You hummed, "Pretty annoying."

Dick just laughed and guided you out onto the balcony.

A random breeze tossed your hair as you sat your glass down on the table. Your hands were damp from the condensation and you wiped them off on your jeans as you faced Dick.

He was already staring at you with those clear blue eyes of his. They accessed you like he knew something you didn't. His knowing gaze and the gossip magazine he showed you earlier; your anxiety was at an all time high.

"So... Are you gonna explain or just stare at me all afternoon?"

He sat his own beverage down with a smirk before leaning back on the patio couch.

"The latter sounds like time better spent but.. you do deserve an explanation. Like I said earlier, your parents and I organized this get-together for Thursday. They haven't visited since you moved here and you deserve a breather from work. We all do. It's just our close friends, nothing serious Y/n, so don't go decorating or doing anything extravagant."

"I'll admit, I haven't been around lately since I picked up more shifts back home and.." You blinked in shock watching Dick Grayson, of all people, falter.

He always had the right words to say. You wrung your lip as he nodded to himself and returned your gaze.

"I don't want you lifting a finger, Y/n. Don't fight me on this! I'll clean the apartment for you, just relax these next few days and let me take care of things while I'm here."

You paled. Two months ago if he dropped by wanting to stay over, it wouldn't have been an issue. Dick came and went as he pleased— never staying more than a week at a time, but things were different now.

You had Joker.

And Dick Grayson, a police officer stationed in Blüdhaven with strong ties to Gotham City, could not find out about Joker staying here.

You could fool Barbara and the girls, but Dick with his natural perceptiveness and fondness for being nosy would definitely find incriminating evidence if he stayed over. You couldn't allow that.

"Uh... wow.. I'm uhh shocked that you, of all people, want to clean. Alfred must be clutching his pearls right about now. But um.. you don't have to stay with me Dick. I-I can clean the place and have everything ready by Thurs—-"

He waved off your excuse like a fly. "Nonsense, Y/n/n! I've been here since Friday."

Your ears were ringing and your hands felt clammy. When did it get so hot? Dick didn't notice the early stages of a panic attack occurring right in front of him. "Huh?" 

He took your startled reply with a grain of salt.

"Yeah, I arrived in town late Friday night but I had to check in with the old man and Alfred. That took longer than expected. Then Barbara texted me n' said that you were still out of town, so I crashed at your place instead of going home. I've been chillin over here ever since!"

Your right eye twitched. "H-Here? You slept here?"

Dick quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, Y/n. I just said that. I don't see the problem, I used to stay over in the past, no biggie. I didn't go in your room if that's what you're freaking out about, geez."

Like him going into your room was the issue here. You trusted him in that regard. You were panicking because Joker had temporarily moved into your guest room and the bathroom therein.

All it would take was one out of place item and Dick would ask who was staying with you, or worse. He'd deduce exactly who your roommate is and ruin everything for you.

You had to warn Joker not to come back. Scratch that. You needed to check his room and see if he left anything out.

You stood up abruptly and mumbled out an excuse.

"You know what? I really need to um, get caught up on.. uh laundry. Yes! Laundry and dusting! And have you seen those plants of mine? Dry as a bone! I should ahhh... do that. Water that. Them, I mean..."

You turned to make a beeline inside but Dick's voice halted your steps.

"Stop." He stood and eyed you pensively as he got closer.

"You ramble when you're nervous and it's rare that you let your place get so far behind on chores. Which tells me that you haven't been home in a while. Just how long have you been gone, young lady?" You avoided his gaze, picking you apart.

'Honestly Y/n, make yourself look more guilty.' You groaned internally.

Dick's eyes shifted to your shoulder to the array of bite marks finally healing from the weekend.

"You have been naughty, Y/n!" You flushed red and pushed him away.

Dick hardly moved. "Finally got laid huh? Was it Prince Charming? Did he fly you out so you could get some D? D__n Y/n, he must be really good then."

Technically he was right. Joker did in fact fly you out to Massachusetts and his stroke game was immaculate... but that wasn't the point here!

Dick laughed even harder when you rolled your eyes. "But we both know that's not the full truth. He stays here too."

He smiled at your horrified face. "Uh huh. I saw his stuff in the guest room. Woah, easy here Y/n! Don't go passing out on me!"

You swayed on your feet and Dick's arms shot out to catch you.

"Geez, dramatic much? I'm happy if you're happy, but I still want to meet him. I gotta talk to him and all."

The sun on the balcony was frying your head. Dick was talking out of his neck at this point. "T-Talk? About what?"

Dick just shook his head and drew you in for a hug.

"Y/n. Despite the hard time I give you, you're like a little sister to me. So if this guy means a lot to you, well. I wanna meet him. Someone's gotta give him a good Blüdhaven warning and I volunteer since I have all this natural intimidation going on."

You didn't have the heart to tell Dick that Joker was taller than him and far more intimidating. You simply snorted and accidentally spoke aloud.

"Tuh, good luck with that."

Dick leaned back so he could look down at you with a purple Riddler mark on his face.

"Nothing, I-I didn't say anything." Something flashed in his clear blue eyes but it was gone before you could question what.

He was back to himself in record time.

"O..K.. Hey! Why don't you go get your laundry sorted out and I'll start dusting the ceilings, yeah?" You jumped and shined your e/c eyes up at Dick.

"You'll dust for me?! Last time I almost died going up the ladder."

Dick sighed and rolled his gaze upward. "Y/n, you are too accident prone to be on anybody's ladder."

You awkwardly laughed and hugged your brother. You never had a sibling before. It was new and exciting until too much physical contact got overbearing.

"Mkay, that's enough." You pushed him away to begin the aforementioned chores.

Thankfully Dick wasn't insulted and left you to your own devices.

You watched him mosey back inside and disappear into your storage room, most likely, to fish out the cleaning supplies. While he was distracted, you sprinted to your bedroom with your phone.

You were grateful that Joker gave you his number over the weekend. However he said it was only to be used for emergencies. You considered him coming back and accidentally meeting Dick an emergency. You had to avoid them meeting at all costs.

You sealed yourself in your bedroom and made sure you dialed the one-call number correctly and waited.

It rang and rang and your stomach felt like it was sitting atop a rollercoaster hill, waiting for him to answer.

And without momentum, you rolled back to the station. It rang to a generic message. You weren't sure how you felt about leaving a voicemail but you already came this far, you couldn't waste the dial you made. So you took a deep breath and began.

"J.... It's me. Um. I have a friend over. Like staying over over. It's not safe for you to come back anytime soon. Please don't be upset with me. I also have a big family dinner this Thursday that I can't back out of so, please. Please, J! Don't come back until I give you a signal. I'll find a way.. I lo.. Ahhhh, um uh b-bye!"

You ended the call with shaky hands.

Did you almost say that on a freaking voicemail? Of all the worst times to confess, that would have been so anticlimactic. Thank goodness you caught yourself from making a complete fool of yourself.

Joker deserved a better declaration than some halfhearted mention on a voicemail that he'd probably would never listen to.

'Y/n, pull ya together girl. He's probably just busy.. '

He did sacrifice an entire weekend of his time to kick it back with you. He was probably drowning in whatever stuff a psychotic crime boss did at the office. Did Joker even have an office?

You pictured him behind an executive desk stacked high with papers and quickly wiped that image from your mind. It was replaced with J sliding down stacks of counterfeit money and torturing people in seedy back rooms. That was a better reality than Joker in an office setting.

You sighed and programmed your brain to focus on laundry and not on a certain criminal that vexed your heart and soul.

Little did you know— your mental imagery of him was spot on.

Joker was in fact working overtime to make up for his weekend vacation with you. In the short timeframe the two of you parted ways, he met up with Frost to go over pressing matters.

Joker knew about the photos.

It was upsetting that there were images of him floating around but it was more damaging to you. He tried to stop it on Thursday night, but the pap gave him and his men the slip.

Joker made sure you were safely tucked in at the hotel before he and Frost tore Atlanta apart trying to find the scumbag.

Joker thought that flying out of state would shake the trail, but this photographer was good. Too good, as if they had inside intel that helped them stalk you and Joker to Martha's Vineyard. Joker hated lots of things but he hated a rat the most.

Finding the snitch within his own organization proved to be difficult when Joker wasn't in Gotham City, so he had to wait until Monday to continue his investigation. He played things off and calmed your nerves at the beach house after that envelope came and made things worse.

Joker did not like being taunted. He needed to get to the bottom of this issue quickly. It was already irritating him.

The second he landed the jet at the Archie Goodwin International airport, outside of Gotham City proper; your security detail was there and waiting. You were sent off to your apartment and Joker immediately got to work.

Back to reality it seems.

Joker questioned if it would be easier to just whisk you away to some remote location until all of this blew over, but he knew you wouldn't go for it. You were independent and stubborn. You wouldn't hide like a coward. He admired that about you.

Too bad this was a serious threat that needed to be addressed and being stubborn about it could get you killed.

Some of your freedom would be sacrificed in order to protect you. Hopefully you would understand.

A pep rally, a test of loyalty, and a mass execution later, Joker weeded out the loose ends within his gang. One managed to give good information before croaking over and Joker saw red.

The bad feeling he had back at the airport was coming true. Things were far worse than he expected.

He followed the lead and lo and behold, it led back to his current best friend, Ivan Burbanc. Granted, Ivan didn't feel honored being Joker's friend, in time, maybe they could warm up to each other.

He already had the best seat in the house; a rickety chair underneath a light bulb, tucked away from prying eyes— although Ivan couldn't appreciate all of this since he had a sack over his head. His arms and legs were tied down and he was a frantic mess assuming the worst, until a door opened a little ways off.

Joker nodded at Mac to leave. The blond was standing guard and tossed over his shoulder, "We ruffled him up a bit during the grab. He's all yours, Boss."

Joker hummed in response. Quite honestly he didn't care about the lesser details. He just wanted to get the intel he needed and move on.

The more time he spent working was another minute spent away from you. Joker was like a drug addict needing his fix and you were an island over, blissfully unaware that Joker was getting his hands dirty, all to keep you safe.

The less you knew, the better. But he needed to see you soon.

He approached the paparazzi with calculated steps. The poor guy was nearly pissing himself in fear but Joker needed him to choke on it to get the answers he sought.

Ivan knew someone entered the room. Their exact location was unknown.

He jumped when he heard an eerie voice to his immediate right. "I just wanna know why. Why? Whyyy did you do it?"

Such an ambiguous question but it prompted the desired response. "Why what? I-I don't know what you're talking about man! I'm just a photographer! Please, you gotta let me go!"

"Just a pho-to-graph-er? Hm.. so uh, stalking and harassment are just perks of the eh.. job? You see. You tooK a picture of someone. Thursday. Night. And that... thaT. That is a big problem, uh Ivan? Is it?"

By this point, Ivan realized he was in deep s__t. This wasn't just some average Gotham City misunderstanding.

It wasn't out of place for a citizen to find themselves snatched from the street if they dabbled in crime. Being a paparazzi at times required him to get his hands dirty, but he was still a well rounded guy! This could all still be some misunderstanding! Maybe they nabbed the wrong guy?

He knew he shouldn't have taken that side gig but money was tight this month. It was just a simple shot, nothing too crazy! He was already in Atlanta so what did he have to lose except so much to gain?

He felt something sharp drag over his bare arm and panicked when it pierced the skin there. A simple graze, although deep enough to draw blood.

Whoever kidnapped him meant business. It was in his best interest to start talking.

"Ow! Alright, alright I-I was hired man!" The unknown voice asked by whom and Ivan scrambled to remember.

"Uh it was uh. S-Some anonymous tip! It wasn't through my normal means of intel but it said Y/n L/n would be flying out to Euphoria. They wanted a scandalous shot of her or something equivalent. I was already in the area so I acted on it! S-She's a high price celeb since she's so sheltered. One pic of her can go for like, thousands if it's good! E-Easy money!"

Joker's lip curled in a snarl. Was that all you were to these people? A dollar sign? Was he the only one that cared about your well being?

"You think my Light is just some quick buck?"

Ivan cringed further back into his chair at the declaration. Great, now he had an angry bf to deal with. "Okay.. l-listen buddy.. I didn't know she was your girl.."

Joker ripped the bag off from Ivan's head. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the room's dim light, but once he recovered and saw who was in front of him, he knew he was a dead man.

"The Joker! S__t, okay.. okay! I–I'm sorry alright! I can't r-retract the spread, but we can make a deal right? Right?"

He was stumbling over his words so badly that Joker hardly understood the useless plea. He was busy thinking of ways he wanted to end this pathetic life to listen fully.

He still needed a name though.

"Fine. I li-ke deals. Who gave you the tip?" Joker asked.

The blade in his hand twinkled in the light as he locked eyes with his prey with an unreadable look. His reputation alone explained what was going to happen here if Ivan didn't respond. It motivated him to babble out nonsense.

"I.. ah.. uh some third party! I told you, I dunno! It was mad sketchy bro, but I took the risk!"

"Hmm. Well uh eye-van? Was it worth the risk?" Without warning, Joker jammed the knife into Ivan's thigh and just like he expected, this guy was a screamer.

Good thing the walls here were thick. It had been a while since Joker heard the sweet sound of sheer terror. It washed over him like a fond memory, yet he itched for more. Joker cracked his neck and waited for the screams to die down.

"Oh Ivan. Ivan, Ivan, Ivan, look at me! Hi.. you think thaT was bad. No. No. WaiT, till I take it out. Yeah? So! Who? Gave. You. The. Tip?" Right at the last word, Joker yanked the knife out.

Outside the room, Mac and another goon were placing bets on how long it would take to get results. All that was heard was muffled screams and Joker's maniacal laughter. It was good to hear the boss happy again.

"I dunno.. Boss is in a good mood today n' you know how he gets with a screamer. Maybe an hour?"

Mac nodded sagely. "Good point. Fifty says he'll drag it out."

In total, it only took twenty eight minutes.

Joker knocked on the door twice and emerged composed and cordial to the two goons stationed out front.

One of them offered him a towel to wipe his hands with and they were wise enough not to comment on the gory mess Joker left inside.

They could see it from here.

"If ya don'T mind.. Uh cleaning up my errr.. yeah." Joker vaguely pointed over his shoulder. He didn't stick around to hear them agree.

He got the name he wanted but unfortunately, it wasn't one that he knew. More digging around which meant this would take a lot longer than he had anticipated.

Joker was slightly limping down the hall when his coat pocket chimed. His leg was giving him problems again. He sighed and leaned his bodyweight on the wall and fished out the pesky device. Sure enough, one voicemail was left on his burner phone. Frost knew better than to make such a rookie mistake so that meant...

You.

Joker had the phone up to his ear in record time. Your sweet, melodic voice instantly calmed his nerves. That is until he actually listened to what you had to say. The two of you really had terrible luck.

One of your friends must've been staying over and you were so bent out of shape thinking he would be upset. He was, but it was so refreshing to hear you say please, that Joker didn't catch your last sentence for what it (almost) was.

This break would actually work out in his favor. He still needed more time to hunt down this thorn in his side and finally get to the bottom of his security leak. There was still a rat scurrying around that he needed to catch.

Thursday would give him plenty of time to do just that without being distracted— worrying about you.

Joker knew you wouldn't leave the apartment after being away for so long and your family dinner thingy would assure that you stayed in one place and not land into any trouble. Joker still had security cameras installed in your apartment if he really wanted to check in with you.

He couldn't help to be a little curious about your folks.

Now that he thought about it, you never mentioned them before. He wondered what your relationship with them was like and how they treated you in kind. Maybe he would tune in and check in on things..

Four days apart after such a wonderful weekend with you would be utter torture but Joker nodded to himself with conviction. He could(n't) do this. But he had to.

He also had to destroy this burner phone since you left a voice message on it so— he didn't see the harm in sending you a text before dumping it.

That was the only explanation he had for taking a risk, not just to soothe his separation anxiety, but yours as well.

OK see u Thurs my Light 🃏

You were shocked to see your phone light up with an unknown number messaging you.

Then you saw the playing card and instantly knew who it was. You weren't expecting a response from J. The fact that he did, felt like you were finally going down that rollercoaster at full speed.

Never mind the fact that he sent it an hour after your call or that his message was cut and dry. Despite how busy Joker was, he took the time out to text you back. That's what mattered. 

He listened to your voicemail! (and hopefully didn't catch your word fumble at the end.) You didn't care that you were in front of Dick when you smiled wide.

"Oooooh. Someone's in love."

And cue the record scratch. You watched Dick descend the ladder to face you. He set the duster down and crossed his arms at your high pitch reply.

You immediately denied it. "N-No no I'm not! You don't know what you're um talking about!"

"Y/n. You can't see your face right now but you're glowing and not that, I just finished writing a novel, glow. Whoever this guy is, he's got you down bad."

"I am not down bad..." You echoed.

Dick fixed you with a, "why is you lying" look. You huffed and scurried over to your floor length mirror to see for yourself.

You looked the same in your opinion. After talking on the balcony with Dick, you changed into some old cleaning clothes and tied your hair up and out of the way. A few curls peeked out from under your bandana to frame your face, leaving you with a messy, but natural, look.

Your skin did look aglow and fresh but that could very well be from your stress free weekend with J. Other than that..

Dick came up behind you and rested his hands on your shoulders. "Ya see it? You look in love."

You were still unsure yet the longer you stared, that unknown but familiar, feeling bubbled up to the surface. All the feelings that you kept bottled up since the beginning, festered front and center before reaching a tipping point.

You weren't supposed to let Joker in. He wasn't supposed to have a chance with your heart. But he found a way in, no matter how many walls you erected to keep him out. Joker still managed to tear down each one to get to you.

And today, you looked at your reflection in the mirror and let the last wall crumble down.

"You're right. I.. I'm in love." You whispered to your reflection. The smile that stared back confirmed it.

It was the only thought on your mind for three days straight. In the meantime..

You finally got around to cleaning your apartment– from the vaulted ceilings down to the decorative rugs. Every nook and cranny in between had been cleaned.

The balcony doors were left open to circulate fresh air into the place to expel all of the strong chemicals you mixed to clean while Dick kept his promise and helped when something was out of your reach or too heavy to lift.

He became concerned when you opted out on wearing a mask to mix Pine-Sol and Comet together.

"Are you trying to kill us?!" He coughed and gagged when you added bleach and Ajax into the strong concoction. Was it supposed to sizzle like that?!

"I'm tryna kill the germs, yeah." Men were such lightweights. You'd been mixing chemicals to clean since you were a kid.

He's lucky you didn't bust out the Fabuloso.

As the fumes died down, you made an extensive grocery list and glared at Dick for depleting your fridge and cupboards in such a short amount of time.

Did he not eat at home? You knew he stayed at Wayne manor periodically and Alfred was a beast in the kitchen, so there was no excuse there.

You didn't know his living situation back home in Blüdhaven but still. Why did he raid your fridge every time he came over?

He laughed it off and mentioned he would foot the bill plus the delivery cost since it would be too much for the both of you to haul back on your own. He went ahead and included the necessary things for the scheduled dinner party and you cringed at the total.

He didn't bat an eyelash at the number and swiped his black credit card. Dick Grayson got moneeeeeeey!

Mind you, you did too, but old money tends to hit a lot more differently.

With the penthouse clean enough to meet your high standards and everything prepared for Thursday, you and Dick spent the remainder of the week catching up and lounging around.

Dick preoccupied his time by watching a popular tv series. You bid yours toiling in front of your laptop. The sound of your fingers flying over the keys floated throughout the penthouse and it was just like old times.

There was a sense of calmness that you hadn't felt in quite some time. You almost forgot that you were deeply involved with Gotham's City's most wanted criminal. Almost.

A startling reminder of your predicament flashed on the tv screen late Wednesday night. You were working on your wip on the floor while Dick relaxed on the couch after dinner.

You recognized GCN's nightly female reporter's voice as she drowned on about some political news before getting to the segment headliner.

"Now onto developing news. Sightings of the notorious Joker shook the Roanoke Mall early this afternoon. Local shoppers were terrified to discover the clown was among them, not as a terrorist, but as a consumer. Our correspondent Emily Vega reports. Emily."

The coverage panned from the studio to a blonde who was standing next to an eyewitness.

Emily nodded for a full minute before giving a delayed greeting. She then recapped the situation before handing the mic over to the witness.

GCN flashed their name and title on a banner yet you paid no attention.

"It was crazy! One minute everything was fine, the next The Joker and a few of his crew came strolling in, lookin' around! I thought they were gonna rob the place but get this! He just walked up to the counter and asked for one of my coworkers. I was scared because you don't just talk to The Joker without you know." They made a throat cutting gesture before continuing.

"Yeah, him and Rick just talked in the corner and right when I thought, yeah we're gonna die, keep in mind Rick ain't the best talker; The Joker bought somethin'! Paid in cash, asked for gift wrapping, and everything! You know when I stop and think bout it.. he's actually a nice guy..."

Emily jerked the microphone back and quickly ended the segment. "Reporting live from Jacob and Co. back to the studio."

The time on the clock tower behind her put the initial interview around midday.

Apparently this happened earlier and GCN was resharing the information, you surmised.

"Very scary. Thank you Emily. Management at Jacob and Co. known for their pricey custom jewelry, refused to comment on what exactly was discussed and purchased by The Joker, but the GCPD has since taken over the investigation with hopes of his recapture being imminent. As of today, The Joker remains at large for three long months. When more information arises, count on GCN to report it to you live. Now onto the recent missing persons report of a controversial photographer Ivan...."

You jumped when Dick spoke up.

"A nice guy? Are they even talking about the same Joker? Him and nice in the same sentence? He probably threatened the employees to keep quiet. Geez, when will the people of Gotham learn that The Joker is extremely dangerous?" Dick preached from your couch.

You enjoyed when Dick got passionate about things and ranted but this anger felt personal somehow..

You trailed your eyes away from him and back to the tv screen.

The reporter was going on about the missing paparazzi but your mind was elsewhere. Dick looked at you when you hummed aloud. "Huh. I wonder what he bought."

You locked eyes with Dick who looked anything but amused by your random thought. "What?" You asked.

"That's what you're thinking about Y/n? Not the fact a wanted man walked into a jewelry store and walked out without the authorities being called, but about what he purchased?No one sees the problem here! On that note, I'm going to bed and you should too. We got a big day tomorrow."

Dick turned off the tv and stepped over you to head to bed.

You were left stunned in the dark after his outburst but still thinking about what J bought.

Jacob and Co. was rather pricey and it just so happened to be the same jeweler you bought most of your favorite pieces from.

What was Joker up to?

"I'll know soon enough I guess." You mumbled to yourself. Dick did have a point though.

Tomorrow was a big day and you needed all of the rest you could get. Joker looked alright on tv so that put your mind at ease to start your nightly routine for bed.

Finally it was Thursday.

You really didn't want to entertain guests today but the sooner you did, the faster you could send everyone home and call for Joker to return.

You were missing him more and more by the day.

It was the mantra that motivated you to wake up and get ready. Dick stated all you had to do was look pretty and open the door, so you followed his instructions.

Once you washed up, you donned a simple but stylish denim jumpsuit. You didn't bother with shoes and let your freshly painted toes add a pop of color to your ensemble.

You also choose to wear your hair down for a change and tucked the excess back behind your ears.

When you opened your bedroom door, an explosion of smells hit your nostrils. Dick was already in the kitchen with his Kiss the Cook apron on (it looked better on Joker) over a pair of shorts and a simple tee.

Dick's natural looks could make anything look high end. He noticed you hesitating in the archway and beckoned you over with a loud greeting.

"Good morning Y/n/n!! I'm just chopping up some veggies and finishing up the marinade for the meat. Wanna help?"

You shrugged and walked over. It was then you saw the unorganized chaos Dick was orchestrating.

"Chile, what's on the menu?" You chuckled.

"I'm glad you asked! Your dad and I are bbq three types of meat, the slaw is in the fridge; ready to mix. Beans are prepped for the oven. Mom is bringing the greens since I couldn't find collards in this wretched city to save my life... We'll have pasta and potato salad as vegan options for her. I do need you to make cornbread and the Mac and cheese however." He grinned at you.

Your eyes bugged at the menu presented. Good thing you went ahead and decorated the table against Dick's instructions. Nothing serious he said.. this was a banquet!

But then you replayed his speech and stopped short.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to do anything but look cute and open the door, Grayson?" You crossed your arms with a playful grin.

He noticed it and groaned. Of course you caught his quickly spoken request.

"C'mon.. Y/n! You make the best Mac and cheese I've ever tasted and I.. always overcook the cornbread." He looked away, dejected.

You snorted and got out the necessary ingredients before tossing your insult over your shoulder. "That's because you ain't got no ancestors to tell you how to season."

You laughed at his butthurt face.

"Funny. Real funny." He griped.

The two of you quickly found a rhythm in the spacious kitchen to finish preparing everything before the guests arrived. Time got away from you both but around noon, there was a knock on the door.

Dick was elbows deep in potatoes so you quickly wiped your hands clean and made for the front. "Coming!"

You opened the door to Barbara and Morgana's wide smiles.

"Did someone order your favorite dessert?" Barbara sang while pointing to the big travel container in her lap. You squealed and let them in. "You baked?!"

"I sure did! I made all your favorites and Dick asked for a pie. Weirdo." She let Morgana push her in so she could keep a good grip on the sweets.

You eyed Morgana empty hands and arched an eyebrow. "Uhhh what did you bring?"

"Myself, thank you." She jokingly quipped.

You held back a laugh. There was always that one person at the cookout who came empty handed. You never guessed it would be her.

Though not surprising, Morgana busted out bottles of alcohol from thin air and started mixing a fruity sangria and a separate nonalcoholic lemonade batch for the party. You just shook your head at your friend. Where she kept magically procuring alcohol from, you'll never figure out.

You left the two girls to their mixing to help Dick back inside the kitchen.

More time passed and the penthouse was abuzz with more delicious aromas and laughter. You barely heard the doorbell since Barbara tapped into your speakers and started a playlist for everyone.

Luckily Morgana heard it and moseyed over to answer it. She opened the door, drink in hand, but quickly dropped everything to help the esteemed guests inside.

"Grayson! Those ribs better be on the grill!"

You and Dick froze after hearing the loud, but familiar, bellowing voice.

He dropped a mixing spoon on the floor and locked eyes with you. After that, it was a race to see who could hug them first.

Naturally he beat you to the living room simply because you stopped about halfway at the sight.

You hadn't seen your parents for an entire year and my, how nothing changed.

Your dad was still tall and imposing with his split eyebrow and sharp features. He had a protective arm wrapped around your mother who literally seemed to be invincible to age. The only factor to hint at it was the tasteful streaks of grey in her luscious hair. And quite frankly, it could pass as a money piece hair dye.

Other than that, the two of you could be twins.

Time seemed to stop when two pairs of e/c locked paths. The bushel of greens in her hands were passed off to her husband the moment she saw your eyes water.

"Mama..."

Everyone in the room watched the long awaited reunion. You didn't care how old you were; you hadn't seen your mother in a year. So much happened since then that your emotions simply got the better of you.

You moved out for the first time to a completely different city. You were held at gun and knifepoint, almost killed at your charity, rescued from said event and then abducted from your home by a schizophrenic, former district attorney. You've been through so much without your mother's shoulder to lean on.

Everything just came pouring out. You weren't making a lick of sense, but she just hugged you closer and petted your hair.

"My baby! What did this mean ol' city do to you? Dry your tears, love. Oh don't you look so beautiful, doesn't she honey?" She twisted a bit so your father could join the hug.

He too was a little misty eyed but real men didn't shed tears. Okay, maybe one or two.

"Yeah she does! Both of my girls are." He kissed both your forehead and his wife's before smiling down at his armful.

The family was back together.

"C-Can I join the family hug please?" The three of you looked over at Dick who was bashfully waiting his turn.

Morgana and Barbara both called him an idiot but much to their surprise, he was snatched up by your father and inducted into the hug. Apparently he was part of the family after all. Who would've thought?

Your mother let you go with a wet chuckle and started to dote on Grayson.

"And look at you! Ack! You look so pale! Have you been getting your necessary nutrients? What about you Y/n? You both look so skinny! Lemme go put these greens on so y'all can eat. C'mon on Y/n! We can catch up while we pick 'em!"

You wiped your face dry. "Yes ma'am."

You weren't that skinny right? You shared a look with Dick who— mind you, was all muscle, and fit as can be. He rolled his eyes not believing it either.

You look fine, he mouthed to you before your dad slapped him loudly on the back. It sounded like a clap of thunder. Dick hardly budged at the impact.

"I'm serious boy. If them ribs ain't on the grill by now, you done screwed up." Your dad bellowed.

They shared a laugh as they made their way to the balcony where the grill was indeed steady cooking the various meat for the feast. That left the girls to gather in the kitchen, sharing laughs and jokes about your year so far living in the city.

Your mom was placing a lid on a boiling pot when Barbara continued the recap. "We finally got her to go out clubbing with us!"

Morgana quickly swallowed her drink and added, "Yeah Mrs. Y/L/N, we were flown out to ATL and had a blast!"

"Really? My Y/n at a club? I'd pay money to see that." Your mom joked. You flushed red and whined, "Ma.."

"Don't Ma me. I'm so used to you indoors with a book in hand. Or better yet, writing one. I'm still waiting for a tour of the place. Your royalties but be something else to afford the top floor."

You jumped to attention and did just that.

Even though Barbara had been over numerous times, she came along as well as Morgana. Being the new friend of the circle, Morgana didn't have the opportunity to venture past your living room and was excited to see the rest of the place in its entirety.

"Four bedrooms, one of them is empty at the moment. Two and a half baths. A massive storage room, my own laundry room, two private balconies and have you seen this view?" You led everyone past your sunroom and out to the balcony where Dad and Dick were glazing the ribs with bbq sauce.

Your mother gasped in awe after you mentioned the view.

She could see Dini Highway from here, it was incredible. Yet the verdict was still out. "Are you happy here?"

You were stealing a taste of the sauce while your dad wasn't looking but heard the question. "Uh.. yeah! I love it here, Mom. I tell you and dad that all the time when I call."

"Then why didn't you show us your room?"

Morgana choked on her drink. Barbara and Dick pointedly looked away and your Dad noticed all of this and addressed the elephant in the room.. or correction; balcony.

"Y/n. You're not isolating yourself again are you? We talked about this... It ain't healthy." He sighed.

Your mother, being a doctor, nodded in agreement alongside him.

You were on your own since your friends weren't entering this fight but thankfully the doorbell ringing saved you. You dodged that awkward bullet. Saved by the bell.

You padded back inside to the foyer and opened the front door, although you quickly wished that you hadn't.

"Ayyyyyy!! Sorry we late! We bought Tequila!" Florence cried out before giving you a hug. She bounced you around in a circle yet your attention was on her plus one standing behind her.

Neo held up the two decorative tequila bottles and winked. Lovely. Florence and booze. What could possibly go wrong?

By the time Florence and her date arrived, the food was ready.

You called everyone over to your dinner table where the vast spread spanned the massive table. Dick brought over the steaming cuts of meat and set them center stage around the other side dishes and fixings to eat.

"This is a lot of food.." Barbara awed.

"Yes indeed! We can thank Grayson for buying and cooking it all but most importantly, let's thank Him. May we bow?"

The table nodded and began to bow their heads. As you were closing your eyes, you spotted Neo rolling his.

Rude, but what could you say? You weren't about to force your family's religion on anyone. It was optional.

Your mom ended Grace beautifully and prompted everyone to dig in. Her and Dick really worked hard to get everything on the table and you could hear multiple stomachs growling; everything looked so good.

The sound of fine china rattling and polite chatter filled the air.

"Mr. Y/L/N, Y/n told me that you don't drink so I made a nonalcoholic version for you." Morgana said while pouring your dad a glass.

She was making her way around the table, filling up everyone's glasses with their selected drink before taking a seat next to you.

"Heh, thanks. Twelve years and I don't wanna get yelled at by my girls." As soon as he said that, you and your mom stared him down like a hawk.

"My point exactly." He laughed while taking a sip. "Mmph, that's good! Might steal that recipe from you Morgana!"

"See Y/n. My non-alcoholic drinks are just as good as the original." She raised her glass to your father at the head of the table, opposite of you.

Your mom was seated to his left and sipped his choice just to make sure. Not bad at all.

She remembered you saying on a call that Morgana and Florence were the heavy drinkers of the group. Not that she didn't trust them, but the virgin drinks looked the same as the alcohol infused one that Florence was tipping back.

Florence looked over at your mom who was seated to her right and smiled. Dick was serving Neo a portion of bbq at the end of the table, on your right.

Dick didn't know the guy but he came with Florence so he couldn't say much. He honestly just seated him next to you since it was the only empty seat left.

Once Dick sat down in his own seat, (on your dad's right and Barbara's left) he whispered in her ear asking who Neo was.

"Florence's client/boyfriend. He's the one that flew us out to Atlanta." Barbara whispered back.

Dick nodded briefly and sized the guy up.

His experience as Nightwing told him this man was bad news. But you seemed to be at ease around him if the pointed glares you sent his way were any indication. You were a good judge of character so Dick wasn't that worried.

Everyone was eating and tossing stories back and forth over dinner when the doorbell rang again.

You frowned and sat your fork down, looking down the table at Dick. "....You expecting anyone else? You only said eight plate settings."

He was already asking Barbara and Morgana to slide down to make room. Not like they needed to move, since your table was already long enough and technically could seat twelve— but you were curious as to who else he invited.

"Aren't you going to answer the door sweetheart?" Your mother scolded you.

She taught you manners so you scooted your chair back to go answer the door. You didn't check the peephole before swinging the door open.

You blinked a mile a minute when Bruce Wayne stood in your small hallway holding a black bag. "Bruce?"

"Good evening. I apologize for being late. Work held me longer than I was expecting. May I come in?" He was dressed casually in a dark shirt and slacks and dang it, he looked good.

"Uhhhh.. I guess?" You stepped aside to let him come in as you mentally berated yourself for thinking about Bruce in such a way.

That chapter is closed Y/n. You have Joker now. Why are you even looking at Bruce like that? He's easy on the eyes, but girl! J is built different out here! He all types of daddy.

You nodded to yourself and closed the front door. When you returned to the dining room, everyone had greeted Bruce (except Neo of course) with open arms.

"Y/n!! You didn't tell me you knew Bruce Wayne!!" Your mother was over the moon at the possibilities.

You fixed her with a deadpan glare and gestured to Dick. "Mom. Dick Grayson is right there, whatchu mean?"

"She has a point, babe." You dad came to your defense. The two men were a packaged deal.

Dick waved at his guardian when he sat down at your left. Of course Dick updated the seating so this could happen. Sneaky little..

"This food looks amazing! Once again I apologize for arriving so late." The businessman mused as your mother personally fixed him a plate.

You joined Neo in giving Wayne an annoyed glare. Florence noticed the two of you shared reactions far too similar for it to be a coincidence.

Bruce asked for a little of everything and leaned over to ask you a question. "Is that your mother or your sister, Y/n?"

Your mom laughed and gave him a generous serving of potato salad after overhearing his genuine query.

"Y/n! Is he always this gregarious?" She swatted his broad shoulders as she made it back to her seat.

Everyone was off in their own sidebar conversations but you still attempted to reply to your mother from across the table. "Uh, sure I guess. I-I mean, I wouldn't know.."

"You don't know? Dick told us you stayed with Wayne for two weeks." Your dad said at the head of the table.

Your mom agreed with him and added, "..and you said you enjoyed this past weekend away out of town. I thought it was with Bruce."

Neo snickered into his glass and thus stole the table's attention. He had been quiet for the duration of dinner but he couldn't contain his comment any longer. "Oh she enjoyed her weekend alright. Not with him tho."

The entire table went dead silent.

You weren't the only one staring at the club owner in shock. Was he being serious right now? You kicked him under the table but he didn't seem phased.

Florence was also quiet, reading into things more than she should've, and grew way too curious over time. She had to know about this weird chemistry between you and Neo.

"How would you know? You told me you had business to attend to over the weekend." Her nails tapped erratically against her glass, making Barbara and Morgana tense.

Neo scoffed. "I did. Someone had to keep Princess safe."

Your mother choked on her lemonade and Bruce narrowed his eyes at this shady guy. He didn't like how he used a pet name so casually with you.

Your jaw dropped and stared at Neo as if he grew a second head. He hadn't used that nickname for you in ages.

Florence eyed Neo briefly and laughed at your bewildered face. "Oh.. okay! Okay. I see what's good. So y'all f__king, huh?"

"Oh s__t." Barbara smacked Dick's arm for interrupting but returned to watch the drama unfolding. That didn't stop his mouth from running. "Wait.. is this Neo guy your Prince Charming, Y/n/n?"

"What?! No!" You denied.

"D__n right. I ain't no prince." He replied over a forkful of beans.

You glared at him. "You aren't helping." He just shrugged and returned your kick under the table, although a lot harder. You blinked back the pain.

"Wooooooow. And here I thought we were friends, Y/n. Going behind my back? After you encouraged me to get with him at his club." Florence chuckled once, it was filled with pent up frustration.

She was getting heated and the alcohol wasn't helping things. "This some real snake behavior." She added.

"Sweetheart, is this true?" Your mother asked gently.

Finally someone was doubting things here! You grabbed onto her lifeline and didn't let go. "No, Mom! Neo and I aren't even like that...." You gestured wildly between you and him.

Why did Dick seat him at your right hand side?! This looked worse than it was.

"Then what the f__k are you two then? Cuz to me, y'all way too close with y'all knowing glares, him calling you Princess and s__t. Why is he protecting you'over the weekend' and why you just sitting there acting all hush hush and shady b__h?"

Your father coughed into his fist. He swore like a sailor but this conversation was getting a little rowdy even for his standards.

A few seats down, Morgana was still eating, watching everything unfold like it was a tv drama. Traitor..

"What you gotta say in all this?" Florence fired at her date, "Ion like how you sitting there looking all smug."

Neo pointed to himself and laughed. "Ohhh, you want me to speak now?" He asked.

"Yeah! Yeah I do. So speak!" Flo fired back.

He nodded and caught your eye. "You want me to tell them the truth, Y/n?"

All eyes turned to you. You were choking on air, unable to breathe. This was not happening. "Y-You... We can't.. Neo.. don't." You gripped the table till your knuckles turned white.

"Okay, I think Y/n needs some fresh air right now." Barbara began. Florence shot down that suggestion real quick.

"Nah she don't need s__t except a good explanation or her feelings won't be the only thing hurtin. I suggest you start talking hoe."

"Watch it now, Flo." Your dad warned.

He didn't like where this conversation was going but he'd do his best to keep the peace and get to the bottom of things, civilly.

The Haitian scooted back from the table to take a breath. She started counting under the breath. No one was ready for when she reached ten.

"Y/n.. seriously this is getting weird.. are you and Neo.. you know.." Barbara hesitated.

"NO! I don't even like the guy! Not after the crap he pulled at Luigi's.."

He tossed his head back with a groan. "Bruhh. That's in the past Y/L. Can we please move on from dat?"

"Lugi's pizza? Y/n. Did this happen the same time we went on a date? Now that you mention it.. You came back from that bathroom break quite distraught." Bruce quickly rounded on Neo. "What did you do to Y/n?"

"None of your business, Wanye." Neo bit back just as fiercely.

"Not you pulling two pulling two hotties at the same time Y/n. You is devious!" Morgana cackled. Dick waved her off and she eyed him until he spoke.

"That'll be an incorrect calculation my dear, Morgana. It's actually three judging by the clothing size I found in her guest bedroom."

You buried your head in your hands. Whhhhhhyyyyyy did Dick have to open his mouth?

"OH! SO YOU BEEN SLEEPING HERE TOO?!" Florence shouted at her now ex.

Neo looked distraught when she stood up from her seat and stormed towards your guest rooms.

You had to think for a second before getting up too. Joker's clothes were still in there. Why didn't you move his stuff into your room earlier?!

"Flo, wait!!" You ran after her. Bruce wanted to see this for himself and followed behind you.

Your father tossed his napkin on the table as he shook his head at his wife.

"I didn't raise no hoe, (your mother's name.)" She winced but laughed to lighten up the mood. "Hmm, that is true but you married one."

Morgana snorted when Dick gagged. "You're acting like they're your parents.

"They are." He was still cringing when a series of shouts came from the back. Everyone still seated at the table waited for anything since they couldn't hear what was being said.

Florence stormed back into the dining room to thrust a dress shirt into Neo's face. He was a pillar of stone. His visage never wavered at the evidence literally being thrown in his face.

"Why did I find the shirt I bought you in her closet?!"

You finally caught up with Florence in the dining room, who staring at her date venomously.

Bruce stood behind you, silently demanding answers as well, but for his own selfish reasons. He saw some things in your guest bedroom that made him question who this lover of yours truly was..

"A black dress shirt Flo? That's rather vague to use as evidence." Barbara sighed. "Every guy owns like a dozen of them."

"Aht. Try again. You got me messed up if I don't remember my purchases. This Armani baby and Giorgio ain't cheap. Is this the dress suit I bought you a few months back?" She asked her stoic date.

Everyone looked at Neo who was mid sip of his drink. He glanced at the label before looking up into your pleading eyes behind Florence. "Yeah it's mine."

He didn't comment that she bought the wrong size. She was already fired hot, including that fact would be more insult to injury.

You didn't understand why Neo was lying. Joker only wore his custom purple suits and the casual clothes that he bought.

You knew he had an array of disguises at his disposal and that black suit was the same one he wore to Euphoria. You had no clue it was actually Neo's, given to his boss last minute to blend in with the employees at the club.

It suited Joker better than Neo if you were the judge of things but now was not the time.

Unfortunately, Neo being the owner was the truth and that did not help your case right now. Your silence, the newfound evidence.. It all pointed at you and Neo having an affair behind Florence's back.

And you refused to lose one of your friends all because of a misunderstanding.

For starters, it was hard for you to make friends and you and Flo were childhood friends at that. The two of you argued over the years and had some fights, but nothing like this. It was never over a guy.

She was the popular cheerleader in highschool. You were the quiet girl from the poetry club; two different circles that would never share the same love interests.

Morgana's gasp and Barbara's look of distrust was breaking your heart.

You broke the girl code and by default, they were taking Florence's side. These were your only friends in life.

Was Joker worth this heartbreak? How could you fix this complete misunderstanding while also keeping Joker a secret?

You felt Bruce's hands settle on your shoulders and the weight of it didn't feel comforting. Everyone in this room was against you. How could he be any different?

It was the worst feeling ever being all alone against the odds. You had the instinctual urge to run.

Bruce didn't give you the chance. "Y/n. It might not be appropriate to ask, but is he the reason why you broke things off with me?"

Everyone jumped when your mom groaned in pain. "Babe, are you okay?!" Your dad asked. Now was not the time for medical emergencies!!

Your mom clutched her chest in agony. "No, I am not OK! Our baby fumbled the bag with The Bruce Wayne for this common street thug? Where did we go wrong?" She sobbed.

"D__n, I'm right here." Neo grumbled. He overlooked how everyone here assumed he was a thug. They weren't wrong.. but dang.

Dick came to his adoptive mother's aid. You should've known anything else from his mouth tonight would be unhelpful. Dick lived for drama.

"Exactly ma! I can see why you don't wanna date the old man, Y/n, but I'm not convinced this guy here is your lover boy. He doesn't look anything like Prince Charming from the gossip magazine!" Dick said.

You wanted to choke him right then and there. Then, you wanted the floor to swallow you up. The entire room was confused until your mother spoke up. "What gossip magazine?"

"Dick, please.." You pleaded in vain.

Nothing would stop him when he was the center of attention. He grinned wide and rushed into the kitchen to grab that long forgotten magazine and held it up for your parents to see.

"This one! Our dear Y/n had quite the weekend with her Prince Charming."

Your father snatched the mag from Grayson and read it over. His eyes widened before he passed it around the table.

One after another your friends and family read about your privacy being violated, printed for the whole world to see, before the magazine landed in Florence's hands.

She took the longest to read the article and for good reason.

"He looks familiar..." She mumbled.

You and Neo paled at the same time.

Florence was drunk that Thursday night at Euphoria but she got a good look at Joker even with his disguise in place. The VIP floor was dark but not dark enough to conceal noticeable scars like Joker's. Your panic attack was back and raging harder than before.

"How... how long have you two been together, Y/n?" She asked you. When you didn't answer, she continued. "Why did I even ask? It doesn't matter. Y'all two were on some secret bull___t that night at the club. I knew I recognized him from somewhere!"

She didn't say who the him in her sentence was but it was practically obvious. Your greatest fear was being realized.

Neo must've come to the same realization because his entire demeanor changed. Flo quickly crossed the room to get into your personal space. "How long Y/n?!"

Florence was in full rage mode, pointing her coffin acrylics in your face, well on the verge of hysterics.

Your audience wasn't too far behind given the sudden change in the air. Florence wasn't messing around anymore. It was utter chaos in your dining room. Your father was scolding Dick for starting all of this, whereas your mother, Barbara, and Morgana were screaming at Florence to chill.

Much to your shock, Bruce was a silent brick wall behind you. He didn't offer you protection or a means to escape. You were rooted in place by his strong hands on your shoulders.

Neo saw your distress and braved the fray to try and to tone Florence down but she smacked his hands away and whirled on him instead. "I don't wanna hear s__t from you!"

"Flo baby—" He tried again until Florence dismissed him with a flip of her middle finger.

"F__k you! I'll deal with you later! Right now, Y/n gotta own up to her s__t! It's the least she can do!"

He didn't let Flo get far and grabbed her before she could whirl back on you.

"Get the f__k off me Neo! I know! And how could you let her!! Of all people, why him, Y/n? Have you lost your mind?!"

"Florence.. please just calm down, and let me explain.." You pleaded. That seemed to ignite her anger more.

Nothing was making sense. She couldn't seem to understand why you were so calm about all of this. Maybe she guessed wrong? No! She knew who she saw....

She broke free from Neo's hold and snarled right in your face. "Both of you are insane. You two deserve each other."

With that said, she grabbed her purse from the foyer closet and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

You were left with chills running down your spine. Florence knew. She had to. Both of you are insane.

Her harsh words echoed in your ear. She knows. She knows. She knows. She knows. She knows. She knows. She knows. She knows.She knows.She knows.She knows.She knows.

Neo was on the same wavelength since a dark shadow crossed his features before he took off after her.

You couldn't think straight amidst all of the chaos. Your own thoughts and fears were drowning out the mayhem that was in your dining room.

Everyone was talking over one another but to you, it all sounded like you were underwater. Those two words were on repeat in your head.

Florence knows. She knows about Joker.

And if the night wasn't theatrical enough, you fainted right into Bruce's awaiting arms.

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #35: Valentine

Masterlist

content: intimate whumper, carewhumper, some suggestive themes (No explicit content)

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Another day, another hotel. They left in the morning. Heather shook him awake at five o’clock sharp. He packed his things, despite his complaints and fatigue, and he made himself comfortable in the car. The roads blurred together. He tried to look out for signs, the name of a city or even a new state, but found none. 

The new hotel was somewhat nicer. They didn’t have a free breakfast, or a minifridge, but they did have a television and a larger fridge, plus a small chandelier in the room—for whatever reason—as well as free soap samples in the bathroom. Rosehip scented. Jackie kept a few in his pocket, then collapsed onto the bed. It was much more comfortable-looking. The fabric was hazel-coloured and smelled like laundry detergent.

Heather’s mood was slightly better, or she had learned to hide her emotions more thoroughly. She did not say anything, only sat on the swivel chair and stared at the painting on the wall. It was a river scene. Probably Venice. Gondolas and lanterns glowing yellow over flat waters, with a stilted house or two in the background. The painting was real, not printed out, and Jackie could even make out the thick, textured strokes of acrylic on its surface. 

Jackie sat up. “Do you like this one?” 

“Which one?”

“The hotel.”

“It’s fine.” She shifted her gaze to look out the window instead. It wasn’t floor-length, like the last window, but it was long. The sky had darkened somewhat. According to the clock on the wall, it was half-past six.

“Where are we?”

“Bellevue.”

“Oh, I’ve gone to Bellevue before.” This was a lie—Jackie never had the money to travel—but he really needed something to talk about. He didn’t want to look uncultured. Anyway, he knew enough about the city. “They have a botanical garden.”

“I’m not a botanist.”

“Yeah, but we could still go there. Just visit.”

“We could.” But she said nothing else on the matter.

Jackie sighed. “What are we going to do, then?”

“Nothing. Stay here.” She finally turned her head to look at him. “Are you bored?”

“A little.”

“Read a book. Or go to sleep.”

There were two beds. That was an option, but not an appealing one. He didn’t want to sleep. He wasn’t fatigued anymore, just restless. 

So he took out his book instead. He stared at the pages. He turned a few pages. He rolled over onto his back, so he could hold up the book and read that way. He rolled back onto his stomach. He sat up. He got off the bed, and read while walking in languid circles. He sat on the sofa. He sat on the floor—also carpet, also dark brown, but thicker. He stood up and leaned against the wall. He sat back down on the bed.

And then he glanced at the clock. Two minutes had passed.

“You get bored very easily,” Heather said.

He put the book down. “I’m not a gentle soul like you.”

“Well, then.” She laced her hands together. “I’m bored too.”

“Can we go to the garden, then?”

“No. It’s too risky.” She unlaced her hands. “What did you do all day, back in the basement? Other than reading and drawing.”

“I went to sleep.”

“Nothing else?”

“Sometimes I would bang my head against the wall?”

“Thanks for the suggestion.” She paused. “I could take up smoking.”

Jackie let out a mock gasp. “Heather!”

“What?” She smiled a little. “I have good lungs.”

“Yeah, but I don’t. I’ll be coughing all the time.”

“Didn’t you buy cigarettes?”

“And look where that got me. What about the T.V.?”

The television stared silently at them both, startled out of its easy background role. It wasn’t a flatscreen, but boxy ones had a wry charm of their own. How odd, that such a sleek hotel should contain such an anachronism. It was big enough to watch from the bed, at least. The remote lay beside it, blocky and black, beside a flyer with all the hotel service numbers.

“That’s a fair point.” She stood up and took the remote. The television flickered on with the push of a button. There were a few channel numbers inlaid yellow-on-blue, plus an option for movies.

“Interesting,” Heather said in a rather flat tone.

“There’s nothing else to do. We might as well, yeah?”

“What? Watch the news?” 

Jackie scoffed. “No, silly. Watch a movie. Don’t tell me that biochemists don’t watch movies.”

“I watch movies.” She walked over and shoved the remote into his hands. “Of course I watch movies. I’m not some kind of recluse.”

“Oh, do you? Name one movie.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She turned off the lights, then curled up on the bed beside him. “Just hurry up and pick something.”

He clicked through the options. Nothing very interesting. Jackie only liked depressing French films in black-and-white, but hotels didn’t usually offer those. There were a few slasher flicks, though. Perhaps the blood would appeal to Heather.

“How about Saw?” he asked.

“No, it’s unrealistic. You’d die of sepsis before any of the stupid traps.”

“Okay, how about Halloween Three?”

“It’s not even October.”

“Alright, alright, Texas Chainsaw Massacre?”

She made a face at him.

“What? You love chainsaw massacres.”

“Too soon, Jackie.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. What if we watch Psycho?”

She shrugged. “Fine.” 

He didn’t care much for horror movies either, but it was better in comparison to everything else. Psycho was a classic, at least. Or so he had heard. As the introduction played, Jackie was still bored, but he was glad the room wasn’t dead quiet anymore.

His gaze wandered away from the movie, towards Heather beside him. In the light of the television, neon and always awake, she looked so different. He followed the motion of her eyelids, the way her eyelashes dipped as she blinked, the light reflecting against them in a waxy line then scattering apart.

He did not deserve anybody’s affection, least of all Heather’s. He was unable to even let go of what was hurting him, unable to rip the arrow from his chest—still, he would do anything for her. He had gouged his own heart out, and he would do it again. That had to mean something. He wasn’t completely useless, was he?

Heather wasn’t actually watching the movie, and neither was he. She stared at the floor, bit at the edge of her lip, and he stared at her. He was happy, but something caught in his chest and welled up in his throat. He got the strange urge to lean against her. Press up against her shoulder. Put his head there, breathe in and out, let everything else fade away…

Well, this was all foreign to him. He didn't know what to say, how to act. He knew how to behave and talk politely, but there was no skill in that. Nobody had ever wanted him like this before.

Heather was different. She kept him around. She wanted him to stay.

That’s because she kidnapped you, idiot.

Yes. Maybe it was delusion. Maybe it was pareidolia, to see patterns where there were none. But he could pretend. They could smooth that uneven detail over. They could forgive and forget and let live, just leave it be and let it go. And to be wanted was to be wanted; the legality of it was irrelevant.

He wasn’t sure what to do now. He couldn’t ask her outright. No, he had lost enough dignity already. He moved a little closer to her on the bed. Not enough to touch her, but close enough that they could touch if she wanted, hypothetically, possibly, maybe, to touch. 

She turned her head towards him. Her hair shifted around her shoulders, spilling over them like woven silk, or like they were carved from marble, in perfect sheafs and sections. That familiar gaze seared into him, still distant and piercing, but not so cold anymore. 

Someone was screaming on the television. The sound was distorted, cut through by static. It was some kind of brutal death, he was sure, judging from the sounds. The flash of a blade, the splash of water against linoleum, what could have been a fresh splatter of flesh.

Jackie leaned a little closer—still not close enough to touch, no, of course not. He’d understand if Heather shoved him away and started gagging. He’d be a little offended if she gagged, obviously…

“Stop.”

He flinched back at once. “Sorry, I—”

“I didn’t tell you to move. Stop moving. Stay there.”

Heather was not as shy as he was. She closed the gap between them with fluid ease, wrapped her arms around him and settled in the crook of his neck and shoulder. He wondered if she had more experience than him, to put it that way. She made this look easy.

He tried not to be so tense, tried to follow her lead. Jackie hadn’t been held in so long. It was supposed to be relaxing, but he was too occupied with making sure he didn’t screw it up. It was imperative that he did everything right. Heather already had enough reason to hate him. 

“Hm?” She shifted her head. Her hair grazed the back of his neck. “Something wrong?”

“No.”

Someone was monologuing on the television. He couldn’t make out any of the words. Something serious, maybe a confession or a heated confrontation. 

“Do you want me to let go?” she murmured. “You can ask me to stop, you know.”

“No, this is okay.” He shut his eyes. “I’m okay.”

“Why is your heart beating so fast?”

“I’m sorry.”

She sighed, a low and weary sound. “Don’t say that.”

“Sorry—“ He cut himself off. “I won’t.”

“That’s not what I meant. Say what you want. I don’t care. Apologize, if you want. But I wish you would…” 

She didn’t finish her request. Instead, she placed a hand on his chest, where his heart buzzed so incessantly, betraying him, under the thick, solid black sweater he had borrowed from her. 

He didn’t know what she wished for, but he knew he would give it to her. He wasn’t stupid; he was aware she could change her mind. He needed whatever brief protection her love offered, if it meant receiving her affection, her kindness. Such blunt terms would not bother him. All relationships were just company for company, tooth for tooth, an eye for an eye. The price was heavier here, perhaps, but it was still a simple one. 

Heather pushed him down onto the bed. Slow, steady, the steady pace she had with the scalpel and saw. His eyes fluttered open. He remembered the metal pressure against his insides, against his stomach, his bones, a wound deeper than his flesh and nerves. He swallowed, and the thought died.

Exchange, give and take. That was all. That was… all. That was it, and he didn’t need to worry. He would be fine with that. He didn’t resist, let her push him down. The fabric was soft under his head. 

Heather looked down at him, a watcher from above, indecipherable as always, still studying him. 

He hesitated. She was waiting. He was supposed to say something, or do something, but his words faltered to a harsh blank.

She did not wait forever. She laid down beside him, nestled close and held him tight. The fabric shifted underneath them. A shiver clawed up his spine, but he remained perfectly still.

Now he could feel her heart beating as well. Hard, heavy beats, as unyielding as wrought metal. Her breath feathered up against his neck. The tang of orange blossoms filled up his lungs like sand and cement, a cloying citrus smell. The television muttered and murmured, but he barely heard it. His face was feeling flushed. He was painfully aware of each and every part of her, the curve of her shoulders, the precise pressure of her arms. The tension coiled with each exhale and inhale, wound up and up in his chest, grew thick in the back of his throat. But Heather was content to just lie there, so he was too.

The sky outside the window shone white-speckled black. Night had already fallen. It was unbearably cold out on the street, Jackie was certain, but he was inside and safe and warm. Not safe, necessarily, not yet, not quite… but he was inside and warm. Two out of three wasn’t so bad. And he wasn’t alone. It made him want to cry.

Heather closed her eyes. He didn’t see this happen, but he felt the butterfly-wing motion of her eyelashes pushing against his skin, grazing him like the spill of her hair. 

It was easy to forget that constant heaviness in his chest. It was easy to just give up, give into it for one night. He was wanted here and it was going to be okay.

Their silence stagnated. The stars flickered, dim against the city’s brash lights. He closed his eyes.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl @lthrboy @whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation @creppersfunpalooza

@vidawhump

[mercurytrinemoon]

on house systems and my reasoning behind using whole sign house system

As some of you may have seen from my recent posts, a couple of weeks ago a youtube/tik tok astrologer called whole sign users - including me - "lazy, non-abstract thinkers who can't think outside of the box". I dare to say it is ironic because people who use Placidus - a house system that is a default system in all astrology websites and software (aside from CHANI!) - are actually the ones leaning towards being lazy and unwilling to branch out and try something new. They are complacent in that regard. So that inspired me to talk about house systems in general and about why I personally find whole sign system the most accurate. I may do a part two where I will read a few charts to give you examples and illustrate my thought process. This part is an introduction and the theoretical reasoning behind my choice.

MY BACKGROUND

Like probably 99% of people, I've started my astrological journey with Placidus. It didn't last long (although if you count the time I've been indirectly under my mom's teachings then it's about 15 years, lol) because after a couple of months of my independent deep dive on astrology I switched to equal house system, which I found a nice compromise between an equally-divided houses and the fact that the 1st house starts at the ascendant.

And honestly, it's not like I jumped to the equal system just like that. I really didn't want to at first because that'd mean I wouldn't be able to be on the same page with everyone else - which still to this day is annoying sometimes when someone is showing a chart in Placidus and in my head I'm like "but this placement you're talking about! It would fit perfectly if you switched to whole sign!". But people refuse to keep their minds open and really stop and think about it. And I mean, really stop and think, not switch the system, look at it for 5 minutes, not really giving it a chance and then switch back to Placidus again.

So I've mentioned it ages ago but that deep dive into astrology started with synastry. I was looking at the bi-wheel of me and someone else and as much as I loved the thought of them having Venus in my 1st house, I just couldn't find logic in it: how can a Pisces Venus be compatible with my Aquarius ascendant if it's in a neighbouring sign and neighbouring signs have nothing in common??? It was a hard pill to swallow because I wanted it to be in my 1st, but it wasn't. It's two different energies, on paper Aquarius and Pisces shouldn't work together, so why is this trying to force me into thinking they do?

This is how I ditched Placidus. Because of synastry.

And to be fair, I have my rising sign at 0° so equal and whole look pretty much identical in my case. So it's not like a bit of Pisces could still be in my 1st house. But like I said, I thought that'd be a nice compromise.

But later on I've discovered ancient techniques and the most important and impactful of them all:

ANNUAL PROFECTIONS

So, in annual profections you basically use whole sign system. Helenistic astrologers had equal system and Porphyry at hand, yet they used whole sign exclusively for that technique. Even modern astrologers who use Placidus for everything will tell you: whole sign for profections. Because, just like with many things in life, there are certain tools for certain techniques and mediums. You know, you use acrylic paint for wood, not watercolor. Or, you won't use the same paint for your walls as for your steel fence, right?

So I used profections. And they were spot on and continue to be. Therefore my conclusion was, it doesn't make sense to constantly switch between houses - although, again, some people do that and that's fine but I like consistency and going back and forth became a bit chaotic. Because if certain placements get activated during certain years with profections, then why would I read these placements differently on a day-to-day basis. You know?

One thing I will say though is that sometimes I will look if a planet is cadent or angular. I guess this is also just to see if it's moving towards the angle or moving away from it.

MODERN APPROACH

So back to Placidus for a bit. Maybe this is beside the point cause we're talking house system usage in and of itself but Placidus users often value the intricacies of a "personalised" chart, where every chart of, let's say, an Aquarius rising isn't divided the exact same way. They also like the intricacies of interceptions.

Yet they don't mind using generational planets as rulers for every Scorpio, Aquarius and Pisces (wow, every Scorpio rising born between 1983-1995 has Pluto in Scorpio, how boring). They also often don't use house rulers. I've yet to see a modern astrology book that teaches about house rulers except for the ascendant ruler. Heck, my certified astrologer mom was never taught that - and she went to school for that!

And, the horror, they resort to the notion of "1st house placement is the same as an Aries placement". Which I despise bacause that is a thinking of a dummy and I have a separate article on it HERE if you want to give it a read.

Again, not all Placidus users but kind of following that default system and not looking for alternative points of view leads most of them to these ways of reading charts. Because Placidus has been closely ascribed to the modern approach.

And I think "personalising" a chart with things like traditional rulers, having MC-IC possibly fall into houses other than 10th and 4th and certainly using house rulers is far more superior than having things like interceptions, which I personally find to be a bit gimmicky.

And to quickly answer your question: interceptions are said to symbolize "blocked" energy, right? I find it a redundantly philosophical concept where you have to make up stuff in order for it to fit: and it either doesn't or the answer can be found in a different spot in the chart. I did watch some of the stuff from that avid Placidus worshipper and they blamed intercepted Moon for themes of secrecy when the Moon was in Scorpio - a sign that is already secretive. So, was it an interception specifically that caused it?

HOUSE RULERS

Such an underrated thing yet so accurate. How many times have we all seen people ask "but what if my house is empty?". Usually the answer is "look at the sign that rules that house", when in fact it should be: "look at the house ruler!".

And house rulers work best with whole sign houses. Profections are an amazing way of demonstrating that. Look at your chart or the charts of others and really pay attention to what planet rules your profection year: I can guarantee you that using whole sign you'll see a massive difference between, for example, benefic-ruled years and malefic-ruled years. It's like a night and day. Of course there's a lot of factors and sometimes a Venus-ruled year might go south on you when it's the year of Venus retrograde or Saturn is transiting your natal Venus. But that only proves that it is Venus being switched on that year, not another planet.

Or when your year is ruled by a planet that is exalted vs in detriment or in fall.

House rulers using Placidus? Or any quadrant system in general? A mess honestly. I was reading reddit, as I often do, and I've scrolled through a discussion on house systems. A user called StellaGraphia put it perfectly so I'm just going to quote them:

"house rulers are muddled in quadrant systems. There will often be a planet in a different sign than the sign on the house's cusp, and the ruler of that sign is ruling the next house, not the one the planet is in. So who is that planet relying on? That planet's whole condition, etc. in relation to who it is operating under is muddled."

TRANSITS AND SAME ENERGY SITUATION

I think even transits can illustrate it in a good way. There's a reason we have sign-based aspects because the same energies feel each other.

Let's say someone has Sun in Pisces but using quadrant system Pisces takes up two different houses. Transiting Saturn goes into Pisces, the Sun's going to immediately feel it - because it's the same sign, the same energy. And let's say that Sun is in the 3rd house and Saturn is still in the 2nd. How can it affect 2nd house issues if it's already affecting the 3rd house Sun? Personally I just think it gets unnecessarily messy.

This is kind of simmilar to that synastry example I was talking about earlier.

WHY IS PLACIDUS *THE* SYSTEM ACTUALLY?

I think the topic of quadrant systems is messy in general because there's so many of them and no one really is right in saying Placidus is better or Regiomontanus is better or Campanus or whatever. They're all someone else's idea of what a house division should look like, it's all hypothetical and the only real thing there is is ascendant-descendant degree cause that's a literal horizon and MC-IC degree cause that's a literal meridian of the Earth. Everything else? Theories. So which one is right?

The goal of a lot of scholars throughout the years was to finally crack the code what kind of system was Ptolemy (2nd century) describing in his texts on astrology. A few astrologers tried to push their own theory on what it was, including Placidus whose interpretation was pretty detailed in calculations. And so this is exactly why it got popular - it had the advantage of being an appealing old concept (or so they thought) that could finally be put into practice thanks to the technological advancement that made it possible to calculate easily.

Funnily, much later it turned out that Ptolemy was most probably using some sort of equal house division and nothing really that complex to calculate.

And so at that time in the 17th century older systems have been pushed to the side because of the excitement surrounding a system that required more nuanced math. And more nuanced math meant more advancement - at least for astrologers of that time.

Whole sign system is, for obvious reasons, tidier and simpler (as in more direct) but that does not equal to "easier to read" or, how our Placidus bully said, "for the lazy". Because there's nothing easier or more difficult about reading one or the other. It's just quadrant houses get more clunky if you want to read with house rulers and no, clunky does not mean more intricate. It's just clunky.

It's also more convenient if you don't know someone's exact time of birth but you know their ascendant. You don't really need the exact degree to divide the houses. Same thing if someone has an approximate birth time - as long as the ascendant stays in the same sign you're good to go. This is definitely an additional advantage of the whole sign houses that come in handy surprisingly often in my experience.

And earlier I said I used to find equal system a nice compromise. I think an equally (no pun intended) good compromise - if not slightly better - is Porphyry, which still retains quadrants but divides them into equal sections. So if you do like each of the axis to be the beginning of an angular house but like me, you find interceptions useless and like things to be more tidy, maybe give Porphyry a try!

So what I’m trying to say is, if someone wants to use Placidus - or any other quadrant system - then go ahead but don't be silly and say crap about other systems, especially whole sign, when it's a method that's been the blueprint and despite its simplicity (or maybe because of it) it works like a charm and it's been used by all the fathers of astrology and they didn't need such convoluted system like Placidus.

Or heck, no one said you have to choose one and stick to it for the rest of your life. Test all of them, use whole sign parallel to a quadrant system - this is what astrologers did even back in the late hallenistic times. There's a lot of options to explore when it comes to house systems.

[akiraidraws]

A product of Drew Tech and acquired by Stein Laboratories when the project was set to be terminated, Bendy is an unusual and timid little orca. Measuring only 2'11" in length, he is remarkably small for a specimen of his species. This unusual characteristic allows him to be housed within one of Stein Laboratories world class aquariums where he is free and safe from predators.

Bendy is personally cared for by the founders of Stein Labs; Mr. and Mrs. Stein. Who feed and attend to the little whale's needs. He can often be seen engaging in play behavior with the couple through the sturdy acrylic of his enclosure, emitting low whistles and clicks as he follows after his carers.

He is openly affectionate towards the Stein's while displaying signs of distress around other biologists; often hiding out of sight.

It is unclear whether this is a result of his prior residence at Drew Tech or simply a behavioral characteristic.

Further observation will need to be carried out.

[agressive-reject]

So, I guess I'm staying at camp all year

TW: Homophobia, Homophobic slur, Cursing, Parental neglect

Aster, please meet me in the parlor, we have much to discuss. Regards, Margaret Remington

Aster had always found it strange that her mother signed her texts with her full name. Or that she signed them at all.

She knew she was in trouble. She was always in trouble. She was scolded for not sitting like a lady, for not wearing the right color dress, for getting her septum pierced. But above all, her mother hated the scar on Aster's face.

It was a reminder that she wasn't truly a Remington. She was the product of an affair that was never to be spoken of. It was a reminder of the Titan War and the drakon that killed Silena Beauregard.

Aster remembered that day like it was yesterday. She could still hear the agonizing screams from her older sister Clarisse as Silena lay dying in her arms.

She descended the giant flight of stairs in the Remington mansion and sat on one of the leather couches. The room was big and dark. It was cold and uninviting. There were various catalogs on the mahogany coffee table. The one on top of the stack said in big bold letters,

"IF YOU'RE NOT SHOOTING A REMINGTON YOU'RE MISSING A LOT"

It was one of the older ones on the table, mid-century if Aster remembered correctly.

She didn't dare touch the antique catalogs with pages upon pages of guns and rifles.

Aster bounced her leg nervously, mindlessly twisting one of her braids in her hand. Completely absorbed in thought,

Just one more week until I can leave for camp

A tall stern woman entered the room. She wore a fitted blouse and a pencil skirt. Around her neck was a string of pearls.

She placed her briefcase on the other couch opposite the one Aster was sitting on. She opened it and pulled out a red notebook. She threw it down on the coffee table.

"Do you want to explain this, young lady?" Margaret Remington growled.

At the sight of the notebook Aster almost had a heart attack.

"WHAT THE FUCK MOM! YOU READ MY DIARY?!"

Margaret stepped closer and grabbed Aster by the collar of her shirt. Acrylic nails dug into her marbled skin as her mother pulled her up so they were face to face.

"Don't you dare use that tone with me. It's bad enough that you insist on going to that wretched camp, but now I learn that you're a dirty queer. You were supposed to take over the family business! Marry a rich man. But no. You had to be a selfish bitch and choose women. Do you know what this will do to the company?! How can you be heir to the Remington fortune if you're choosing to go fuck some random whore!"

Aster was shaking, she could feel the hot tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Mom I-"

"Save it. You'll break your father's heart when he hears how you let us all down!"

"He's not my dad," Aster said, trying to keep more tears from falling.

"You're right. He's not. You were a mistake. Product of one night with a god and a failed abortion. Get out."

"what?"

"I SAID GET OUT! PACK YOUR THINGS! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" her mother screamed at the top of her lungs. It echoed through the mansion.

"FINE! I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL YOU NASTY CUNT!" Aster screamed back as she grabbed her notebook and ran upstairs.

She grabbed as much of her stuff as she could fit into her bag and ran out the door, not looking back.

It seems she'd be getting to camp a week early.

[boopiddyboop]

Choi San Natal Chart Reading

So this reading got delayed a bit by my acrylic nails. Had to switch keyboards and everything in order to type better (not at full speed by any means, but I’m back to “functional”). If you see a typo I missed, no you didn’t 🙂 Compounded by the universe sending me several distractions every time I sat down to research and write.

Anywho, San! Oh Mountain boy- I’m excited to finally do this after the grand reveal from his B-Day live. I know I’m not exactly striking when the iron’s hot on this content, but Lord knows I’ve never been with the times. To the reading!

Full Disclaimer: Most of my knowledge is by traditional astrology, which involves but is not limited to: using whole signs, excluding Uranus-Pluto for natal charts, different sign rulers, and different planetary interpretations.  Astrology is subjective by nature; I do not think my way is best, simply that this is the version of interpretation that makes the most sense to me. This is not a professional service, simply a hobby meant for entertainment purposes only.  Feel free to disagree with or question my conclusions.

Placements:

Sun: Cancer - 11th house

Moon: Gemini - 10th house

Mercury: Leo - 12th house

Venus: Leo - 12th house

Mars: Scorpio - 3rd house

Jupiter: Taurus - 9th house

Saturn: Taurus - 9th house

Ascendant: Virgo

Midheaven: Gemini - 10th house

North Node: Leo - 12th house

Raise your hand if you were personally victimized by San’s surprise Virgo Rising? *raises hand*. I always felt that San gave big Leo energy (and this thought will get justified pretty quickly), but I can always vibe with Virgo being in the charts of idols. I also have a slight bias towards Virgos as a whole, so good for you, San. You cracked my top 3. His Virgo Rising is being ruled by a Mercury in Leo. See? Told you it’d be quick.  Because that Mercury is sitting in the 12th house, it keeps him from being too domineering of a communicator. Very similar to Hongjoong’s Mercury in the 12th, though Hongjoong’s is in Sagittarius, which suffers the placement even more so by being mutable, whereas San’s Leo in the 12th fights more for attention.

So, interestingly, the only Cardinal energy we get from San is his Sun in Cancer. Sun in Cancer is notably not a super great placement for it, as the moon brings quite a moodiness to the Sun’s light.San does however have two things combatting this. 1) It’s in the 11th house. The sun here makes one seem more gregarious and outstanding. In other words, this is one of his fan fairy placements.  2) His Sun is ruled by a Moon in Gemini. Once again, a bit of a conflicted placement for a sign, but in this case the Gemini is helping logic out what’s going on with his Sun in Cancer emotionally. Inversely this can negatively cause him to overcorrect his moodiness into overthinking if he’s not careful. That moon is also conjunct his midheaven in Gemini causing him to be quite emotionally vested in his work. This is also a good placement for parents.

I will take any opportunity to reference this

Speaking of fairy placements, the other very strong one is his Taurus Jupiter in the 9th house. Jupiter is a benefic, bringing luck and growth wherever it sits. Taurus ruled by Venus, also a benefic planet. 9th house is travel, foreign cultures, languages, etc. So put those in a shaker and voila. Lots of luck and growth with the international fans xD We do see a Saturn in Taurus tempering this a bit, as Saturn brings restriction, but overall, I’d count this as a net positive. (Mingi also shares this Jupiter/Saturn in Taurus combo so we’ll get to see this play out differently later.) Both of these placements are being ruled by San’s Venus in Leo, which thrives off of the attention that 9th house is giving him. This placement of Venus in the 12th house can also be quite sensitive? Not the greatest pairing with that 

Finally, Ateez and the Scorpio gang strikes again with Mars in Scorpio in the 3rd house. A fighting placement already, but between this and the Leo Mercury, when this boy truly gets into a disagreement, his words will absolutely be aimed to kill. Personally, I think he taps a lot of his demon line energy from this placement.

Overall, if I had to pick a word for San’s chart, it would be dynamic. And dynamic charts are what make for interesting celebrities. I barely even touched on the aspects in his chart (his Mercury, Jupiter, and Mars are all square/opposed), and we still got a fun look at all of the interesting things going on. That being said, feel free to comment on something I missed in the askbox :)

[pwlanier]

Thornton Willis (B. 1936)

Full House

signed, dated and titled 'Thornton Willis 1981 FULL HOUSE' (on the reverse)

acrylic on canvas

Christie’s